Destiny

steady herself. She was not a young woman. Her long hair was tangled. Many of the ribbons and tiny bells woven through it had been lost. Her white gown was torn and dirty. When they were thrown from Eagle Eye, she sustained a hard knock, and a sizable bruise darkened her forehead over her left eye.

Recovering her equanimity, she apologized for her outburst and they resumed walking. More calmly, Sa’ida thanked Kerian for saving her.

Kerian asked, “By the way, what was it that knocked us off Eagle Eye and put you out for so long?”

“A powerful spell.”

“Condortal didn’t look like a spellcaster,” Kerian mused. “Do the worshipers of Torghan have magic like that?”

Sa’ida exclaimed, “They do not! There must have been a Nerakan sorcerer at our temple!”

The possibility upset her deeply. She grew more and more agitated at the idea of a foreigner practicing illicit magic in her city. Kerian comforted her with the thought that the Nerakan and his hirelings hadn’t been after Sa’ida. They could have struck at the Temple of Elir-Sana anytime. They attacked only after seeing Kerian’s arrival. Condortal’s hirelings probably had orders to seize any elves who showed up in Khuri-Khan.

“It was simply their misfortune that the elf who showed up was you,” murmured Sa’ida.

When they reached the Temple of Elir-Sana, Sa’ida was astonished to see the khan’s armored horsemen drawn up in the avenue. They surrounded the blue-domed temple like a wall of glittering steel. Kerian was all for slipping away unseen, but Sa’ida had had enough skulking. Dirty, exhausted, and injured, the priestess stormed into the square. Fearing more treachery, the elf woman followed reluctantly in her wake.

“Marak Mali, is that you? What’s going on here?” Sa’ida demanded.

The commander of the troop, a handsome young man with an elegant mustache, looked past the line of horsemen. Shock bloomed on his face.

“Holy Lady, you are well! Bless the goddess!”

Reassured Sa’ida was indeed whole, he explained that he and his men had been sent by the khan to guard the temple from further attacks. The activities of the night had not gone unnoticed. Unlike the cowed folk of Arembeg, those living near the temple had not turned a blind eye. They ran to alert the city garrison. Sahim-Khan ordered a company of his elite horsemen to protect the ancient shrine and crush the Torghanists if they dared show their faces.

“The old rogue did well!”

Captain Mali chose to ignore the priestess’s disrespectful remark. His gaze fell upon Kerian, standing nearby, and he asked the holy lady who she was.

Kerian would have given her name, but Sa’ida replied quickly, “A courier from the khan of the laddad. She came to see me.”

Mali nodded. He’d known a laddad was about after seeing the griffon tethered in the temple courtyard. As loyal men of Khur, he and his soldiers had not desecrated the temple enclosure with their presence.

“It is irregular to entertain foreign emissaries without the Khan’s approval, holy one,” he commented cautiously.

“I wasn’t expecting her, was I?” the priestess replied tartly.

“And before I could do more than greet her, the house of the goddess was invaded by mad Torghanists! They dragged us into the Arembeg district, but we managed to escape.”

He glanced southward at the smoke blackening the predawn sky. “So I see, beloved of the goddess.”

Sa’ida thanked him for his efforts and began to move away. “I must prepare myself,” she explained. “I trust you’ll be here all day?”

“We remain till the Great Khan recalls us.” Brows lifting, he asked, “Prepare yourself for what, holy one?”

“I have decided to go on a journey.”

The Lioness was elated, but allowed nothing to show on her face. It would not do for a mere courier to shout triumphantly. Instead, she emulated the priestess’s dignified exit, following Sa’ida between lines of horsemen to the gate. The priestess carefully closed the gate behind them.

Sa’ida had taken only a few steps when the temple doors opened. Priestesses and acolytes streamed out, many of the latter in tears. They surrounded Sa’ida, loudly proclaiming their relief, praising the goddess for her safe return, and lamenting her bruised and battered state. With some effort, Sa’ida restored order. One acolyte was sent to bring ointments and clean bandages for the Lioness’s injured arm. The others were dismissed to their duties.

Once the youngsters were within the temple and out of earshot, Sa’ida addressed the priestesses. “Thanks to the goddess’s mercy-and the wits of Sosirah here-I am restored to you. I am going with Sosirah to minister to the khan of the laddad. Prepare my baggage for a journey of ten days, and include the instruments for a great healing.”

Bewildered but obedient, the priestesses departed. Kerian and Sa’ida followed them inside while Sa’ida dressed her injured arm. Kerian asked her about her change of heart.

“There is an old saying: ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend.’ The Dark Order and its Torghanist minions have grown too bold. Sahim-Khan will strike back at them, but it is time I do something myself.”

“And helping us may divert the Nerakans from Khur.”

“True, but”-Sa’ida’s brown eyes regarded her steadily- “your Speaker has a great soul. There aren’t enough like him in the world. He should be saved.”

Perhaps it was the fatigue of the long journey or the sudden release of tension after the brawl with the Torghanist fanatics, but Kerian’s relief was so strong she felt tears pricking her eyes. She threw her arms around the woman’s neck and hugged her hard.

“Ah, lady, remember who we are,” the priestess said but patted Kerian’s shoulder kindly.

Stepping back, Kerian cleared her throat and assumed her sternest demeanor. “What did you call me out there Sosirah?”

A smile graced the priestess’s lips. “It means ‘Lioness’ in our language.”

Dawn came, the perpetually cloudless sky above Khuri-Khan brightening from cobalt to azure with a swiftness that still surprised Kerian. While Sa’ida met with the elder priestess who would mind temple affairs in her absence, Kerian went to see to Eagle Eye. He was sleeping in a far corner of the courtyard, still weighted down by a heavy fishing net. Sensing her approach, he awoke. She spoke soothingly to keep him from struggling against the net and injuring himself. As soon as he was free, he stretched his limbs, filled his great chest with air, and gave vent to a full-throated screech. Many of the soldiers on guard outside the wall found themselves unceremoniously tossed to the ground as their horses bucked and reared. Kerian smothered a laugh.

Aside from superficial scrapes and his still-blind left eye, Eagle Eye seemed in fine shape. She led him to the same small pool from which he’d drunk on their arrival. While he quenched his thirst, four acolytes came out of the temple. They carried baskets and a brass tray.

“Food for you and the beast,” said the eldest girl. “Ointment for the creature’s eye.”

Kerian made to take the baskets of Eagle Eye’s provender, but the acolytes bypassed her. Unafraid, the girls set the baskets directly before the griffon. He watched them with fierce head held high then snapped up the pieces of meat, bolting each in a series of prodigious gulps.

Kerian ate more decorously, though not by much. She was devouring her third peach (Khuri-Khan was famous for its golden peaches) when one of the acolytes approached the griffon on his blind side. She held a jar of unguent. Kerian warned her not to get too close. The acolyte opened the jar of unguent and began to sing.

The Khurish tune was a simple one, a children’s song about an injured little girl having a wound dressed. To Kerian’s astonishment, Eagle Eye allowed the girl to anoint his injury. He even lowered his feathered head so she could better reach his eye.

“I’ve never seen him allow a human so close before,” Kerian said.

“All creatures know pain,” the girl replied. “And all creatures understand kindness.”

By the time the sun cleared the intervening buildings and set the temple’s blue dome ablaze, Sa’ida was ready. The entire college of Elir-Sana turned out to see her off. Kerian had worried she would try to take too much heavy baggage, but those fears proved unfounded. The holy mistress carried only two modest-sized cloth bags.