Heard

Charyic ate the food that was brought, and despite feeling queasy managed to keep it down. This seemed to satisfy Alok and he sent her to the baths with Ametel. The woman chattered cheerfully and incessantly the entire time and Charyic was ready to hit her by the time she returned to her room. The two healers seemed glad to be able to leave now that Charyic was seeming better, but Alok instructed Ivhir to send for him if he had any concerns.

Once the two had gone Charyic turned to Ivhir and held out her hand. “My knife.”

“I don’t see why you need it, and I think I would feel safer if you didn’t have it.” Ivhir gave her a distrustful look and Charyic had to take a moment to cool her temper.

“If you don’t return it to me I will have to steal one to replace it. I need an offering for Ayil.” She held out her hand again and he looked dubious. “I’m not going to kill you. You can step outside and keep guard if you’re that concerned.” Keeping the annoyance out of her voice was harder than it should have been.

“I’ll hold onto the knife until we go to the temple in the morning.” Ivhir shook his head and Charyic gritted her teeth and dropped onto the bed as if she were sulking.

Ivhir blew out the lamps and, she noticed, laid something in front of the door before he settled onto his cot. She lay awake waiting for what seemed an eternity. When his breath had been slow and even for a long time she carefully and quietly rose and slipped his knife out of its sheath where it had been laid beneath his cot. She had warned him. Charyic took her tools from their concealed place and put them and the knife in Esus’ bag. Looping the bag around her wrist, she opened the window wider than the crack Ivhir had left to look down on the scaffolding. It would do.

She stifled a groan as she heaved herself carefully out of the window. This child was going to be the death of her. In Luzoron she’d still been able to do most things but it seemed like her belly had gotten more unwieldy, had it been that long? Charyic managed her way down the scaffolding and slipped out of the surprisingly unguarded palace into the silent market streets.

The temple gates had been pulled closed for the night and there were people sleeping outside of them. Opening them would not be smart, though it would probably be easier than finding a way to climb over. She began to stroll around the fence looking for any easy way over or a second gate and found nothing as it met the stone of the temple wall. Walking further she found a locked door. It was out of the way, almost hidden, inset into the wall.

With a smile, she pulled out her tools and deftly opened it. Without thieves around to motivate them, lockmakers were far too complacent. The door creaked obnoxiously loud as she opened it, that would balance it out, she thought wryly.

Stepping in and closing the unbearably loud door, Charyic tried to get her bearings. She was on the right side. Probably somewhere behind the altar. Wandering through the corridors, she tried to hold onto a mental picture of where she should be in relation to the door and where she thought the altar was. As she stepped into what looked like a treasure room filled with statues and gold, trinkets and candies, and even the sword she had brought, she thought she must be getting closer. It was difficult not to pick up just a few things that Ayil probably wouldn’t miss, but that wasn’t what she was here for. She looked for another door along the walls.

“What is it you’re looking for, perhaps I can help you find it?” A woman’s dry voice reverberated through the chamber.

Charyic jumped and grabbed her belly turning in surprise. “I’d appreciate that.” Her annoyance was slightly more pronounced than it should have been and it made the priestess raise her eyebrow. “I’m looking for the altar.”

“Truly?” The priestess approached smiling dangerously. “Most who wish to leave an offering come in through the gates and don’t skulk around amongst the offerings in the middle of the night.”

“I’m a thief. Old habits die hard, I suppose. But Ayil should know I’m not here to rob her, even though I was itching to take a half dozen things she probably would never have noticed were missing.” Charyic smiled and shook her head feeling her eyes start to burn. “I have offerings to leave and things to ask.”

The priestess looked at her speculatively. “One offering, one request. There are two other altars if there is more you require.”

The aching lump in her throat made it difficult to speak. “The altar,” she stopped and took a breath calming herself. “The altar I would go to is not here. And Ayil is family.” Charyic rubbed her belly and just breathed deeply for a moment, the child seemed to be registering some discontent with her activities by kicking with surprising strength.

“Ayil is family?” The priestess asked in an odd tone.

“Grandfather said she was.” Charyic imitated him, “Sweet girl, sharp girl. Family does its best. Loves both her fathers. Bitter games. Could be kinder to a mother.”

The priestess began to laugh. “I’ll take your plea to him. Father seldom approves but he always loves.” She smiled warmly and held out her hand.

Charyic pulled her tools out of Esus’ bag. “Ask him. Please. To save Esus.” She pressed them into Ayil’s hand.

“And for me?” Ayil inquired curiously.

Reaching back into the bag she pulled out Ivhir’s knife and was greeted with a frown, Charyic shook her head and pulled her hair back with her other hand, twisting it and using the sharp knife to cut it off. She held all of her long, dark hair out to Ayil. “I am begging you, don’t ever make me feel like this again. You are-you are breaking me.” Her voice was cracking and the tears she was trying to hold back were spilling down her cheeks.

The priestess reached out with her other hand and took the hair. She was silent for a moment and when she spoke she sounded subdued, “Your plea was heard.” She stood looking at the objects in her hands. “May I please borrow your bag?”

The sobs she was trying to suppress broke out but quickly turned to laughter and the priestess smiled. Charyic wiped her eyes, “It’s not my bag.” The two of them began to laugh together at that. “I’d rather not walk around openly with a borrowed knife but I’d be happy to include it with Esus’ bag. I warned Ivhir that if he didn’t give my knife back I would have to steal one. He can’t fault me if his happened to be handiest.” She slipped the knife back into the bag and held it open.

“No, he cannot.” The woman laughed and it sounded very much like Ayil’s laugh again. Charyic’s tools and hair were placed carefully inside and the bag was closed again. “These will be returned to their owners, eventually.” She held the bag as if it were precious. “Allow me to see you out.”