Eighteen

“Master Dwarf, if I could-” Kwes tried again and the look leveled at him made him stop and clear his throat.

“My little magpie, that circlet goes to Hammersworn’s youngest. Leave it.” Master Odos smiled faintly. “You’ll have to forgive Kwes, Master Grimgrip. Magpies are known for going after things that shine.”

“It must be in the blood if he’s Hammersworn’s brother. The woman asked politely to see the jewels inside the altar box when we came to Delver’s Deep. When she was refused,” the dwarf snorted, “rudely, by one of my companions, she walked away. If I hadn’t been told to open the box no one would have known she’d removed them to get a good look.”

Odos covered his face. “She never mentioned that to me.”

“She was told not to. The stones should have killed a thief on the spot, but she was curious, not malicious. I found her in the room of light looking them over like a jeweler. That woman had the gall to be offended that I interrupted her.”

“I’m surprised she only looked at them.” Kwes smiled as Odos laughed into his hands. “She likes stealing from temples.”

“She never stole from dwarves.” The old man waved his hand straightening with a smile. “I used to encourage her to steal from temples.” He glanced toward a doorway, “Priests have always irritated her, even Mabor’s.”

The blood soaked priest of Imos returned from his surveying of the house. “You were right that there were no wards anywhere in the house. There’s no sign of her or the mage.”

“A mage would have put up wards.” Grimgrip frowned.

“He did. Some of them were even impressive.” Master Odos went to look out of the window, “She cleared them all away.”

“That takes power.” The dwarf studied Odos’ back and Kwes tried to understand why it baffled him.

“She’s a goddess or something like it, isn’t she? The Golden Rook?”

“She is.” Odos smiled faintly and glanced back to the dwarf, “You haven’t asked where she took the mage.”

“The Golden Rook is a servant of death himself. She took him to the sunless pits.” The priest shrugged.

“Only the dead are supposed to be able to go to Hevtos’ realm. It requires his permission for the living to pass.” 

Kwes exhaled, “And they’re not on speaking terms.”

“That name is not to be spoken!” 

“I suggest we leave the city to wait for her.” Odos ignored the man, “She’ll be in a bad mood and from the open hole in the floor she’s taken her supplies for dragon’s fire.”

“She wouldn’t burn the city!” He and the priest spoke at the same time and the old man sighed.

“She’s never liked Withia. As a child… If anyone gives her a sliver of a reason she’d burn the city just to see it gone.”

“I have businesses here, Master Odos!” Kwes took a step, gesturing toward the door. 

“What of the people here?” The priest shuddered. “There are so many, not only those who live here but those who’ve come for the festival. It would be murder.”

“I would argue that murder requires intent, but, yes.” Odos nodded grimly, “People will die.”

“Hammersworn would take the people here into consideration.”

“Did you ever see her lose her temper, Master Grimgrip?” The mirthless curve of the old man’s lips made Kwes feel chilled. “The Rook is worse. You want to stay on the Rook’s good side. Hammersworn was a sweet girl in comparison.”

“We need to do something, sitting here is pointless.” Kwes moved toward the door. “People won’t leave if you start shouting that the Golden Rook is going to burn the city to the ground but they may leave for a performance. If we can convince enough players to put something on outside the walls…”

The dwarf took a deep breath once they came out into the street. “That might have been a good idea if there were time. I’ll meet you outside the north gate and tell as many on my way out to leave as I can.”

Kwes sniffed the air, “There’s time, someone’s started a fire nearby…”

The priest grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him to the middle of the street to point to a growing column of black smoke rising from the center of the city. 

“Who is she serving?” The priest snapped and turned on Odos, “This is madness!”

“That is revenge for the murder of Syreilla Hammersworn. At the moment she’s pouring her rage out and letting the city share her pain.” He looked very old for a moment, “Young gods and goddesses… she has yet to learn temperance or be censured by her grandfather.”

 The priest stared at the smoke.

“Who do you serve, nephew? Or should I ask what? Will you stand by Imos in his mistakes or will you stand for justice and see wrongs righted.”

“The divinity does not make mistakes.” He tore his eyes from the pillar of smoke but for all the certainty in his voice his eyes were nervous.

“My brother does. He made a grave one when he had his very mortal niece murdered and promised to put the assassins out of Hevtos’ reach. For too long he’s been lying and telling his worshippers that he will judge them and send them to a reward of his devising or punishment from our uncle. But it’s Hevtos who judges and sends mortals to their rewards and punishments.

“The Golden Rook is going to make certain his lies are exposed and she’s going to burn his temples… It’s what he did to Uncle in his fury. Even my brother can see the circle.”