things go bad.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” he assures her.
Aku takes his seat on a chair in the corner and watches them as they talk. He remains fairly quiet for the most part, almost completely unobtrusive. But then again, that’s probably something slaves have to do. He’s taken to Aleya, and of all of them, seems to relax most around her. After what he’s been through and the way he’s been treated, it could be a while before he’ll be able to fully trust anyone.
“The boy doing alright?” asks Brother Willim.
“Yes,” she replies, “he’s adjusting well.”
Miko catches Jiron’s attention before he walks through the door and says, “Bring back some tarts if you can.”
“Look,” he says as his gaze moves across those gathered there, “I am not going on a shopping trip. If you want something, get it yourselves.”
“Alright, fine,” states Miko defensively. “But if you do run across a baker, I’m sure Aku would love some.”
“As well as the High Priest of Morcyth I would imagine,” Stig says with a grin.
Miko returns the grin. “I’m sure he wouldn’t turn any away.” At that the rest of them chuckle, if not outright laugh.
Jiron shakes his head and hurries through the door before something else delays him. Reilin, Shorty and Stig follow right behind.
While they’re gone to verify the accuracy of the temple complex diagram, the others adjourn to the common room for dinner and entertainment. Brother Willim and Miko opt to remain in the room and look after Aku, allowing Aleya the opportunity to have some fun.
When Jiron and the others return several hours later, they join the party in the common room. “Everything is exactly as the paper says,” he tells them. Scar gets up from his chair and takes another seat to allow Jiron to sit next to Aleya. “Thanks,” he tells Scar as he sits down.
“Not a problem,” Scar replies.
“If that one is correct, then it’s safe to say the other should be as well,” Reilin says quietly.
James nods his head, “All we have to do now is wait for tomorrow night.”
“Fortunately that will allow us to be at full strength when we begin,” Jiron says. Signaling the server, he indicates that he and the others who just arrived with him would like an ale. In short order she arrives with four mugs and sets them on the table.
After knocking back almost half of his in one long swig, Stig leans forward and says in a hushed tone, “While we were there they brought a long string of slaves into the temple.”
“I can imagine what use they’ll be put to tomorrow night,” says James. His imagination begins churning through different ways they might be used during the rites. Sacrifice, blood offering, or maybe just stealing their life for dark magics. The thought of the theft of their life for magic brings him back to the question his own morality. About how he had done the same when he used the sphere back in the Eye’s Court. Is he really any better than they are?
Yes, he is.
What he did was out of survival. They are doing it out of choice and that is the difference. The day he no longer looks for better alternatives will be the day he can count himself as being just as they are.
The rest of the evening passes well. A traveling minstrel sets up on the platform at the end of the common room and they sit and listen to him all night. When James finally reaches the point where he can no longer keep his eyes open, he takes his leave.
Upstairs he finds Brother Willim in deep discussion of one theological idea or another. Off to one side of the room, Aku is asleep on the floor. Miko shrugs when he glances questioningly to him. “He wouldn’t sleep on the bed,” Miko explains. “The look on his face when we tried to get him to was one of distrust.”
“I don’t think he’s ever been on a bed before,” Brother Willim replies. “At least other than with Aleya.”
“As long as he’s comfortable,” James says. “Try to get some rest. We’ll be leaving tomorrow night.” They both nod and as he closes the door, resume their discussion. Too much is on his mind as he makes his way down to his room. What will tomorrow hold? Will they be successful? And what may await them should they manage to reach the teleportation dais here in Zixtyn and make it to the High Temple?
Once within his room he undresses for bed and his eye catches sight of the barest sliver of a moon out his window. Tomorrow night will be when Killian’s Shroud blinds the giant’s eye. A shiver runs through him as he turns away from the window and climbs into bed.
Chapter Thirty Seven
Since they were first brought here to this dark cold place, the daily routine has been just that, routine. Three meals a day, a new slops bucket twice a day and the continual appearances by those strange little creatures who like so much to stare at them. Only once had the routine ever changed.
A man had grown sick. Tinok didn’t know the man and he was being kept in the cell adjacent to his, but one day the man started coughing. Nothing serious, just a cough every now and then. Perhaps it was due to the cold, the inactivity, or something else, but the cough progressively worsened over the course of two sleep periods. With no way to tell time, Tinok has grown to judge it by the times when he sleeps.
After the second sleep period, one of the cowled figures appeared and moved to the cell containing the sick man. The cowled figure then opened the cell and entered. Moving across to where the man was lying on the cold stone floor, it stopped next to him.
A hand, rather emaciated with the skin tightly stretched around the bones beneath, emerges from the robe’s sleeve. A small flask is gripped by the hand and is brought forward to the man. The poor guy is now trying in vain to scoot away but another hand emerges from the other sleeve and grabs him.
The man panics and his coughing fit increases badly as he struggles against the hand holding him still. Then a word is uttered by the cowled figure and the man suddenly grows quiet and still. Once he’s completely quieted down, the hand holding the flask put it to the man’s mouth and poured its contents between his lips. Unable to do otherwise, the man swallowed the liquid.
Standing up, the cowled figure turned toward the door and left. During this time, not a single prisoner within the cell the cowled figure entered tried to escape or fight. Maybe it was the feel of the place or the uncertainty that escape would even be possible, but they remained where they were.
Shortly after the door shut and the cowled figure departed, the man was able to move again. Several hours later, his cough cleared up and he felt well. Whatever that stuff was that was poured into him, it definitely cured him.
That was many sleep periods ago. And from that time to now, there was only the routine. Today however, things felt different. There was an urgency in the air that wasn’t there before. A feeling that something was going to happen and that it wasn’t going to be good.
Also, the little creatures that had been such constant companions since they first arrived, are absent. After their second meal of the day was brought and consumed, the man in armor again appears. Four of the cowled figures accompany him. They begin to open the cell doors and have those within come out.
“Man I don’t like this,” says Esix as he and Tinok, along with the others in their cell, are brought out to stand with the others.
What Tinok wouldn’t give to have his knives in his hand once again. “I don’t either,” he replies.
They’re lined up and then the warrior priest begins leading them down the passage. Going in the opposite direction than that which they did in coming here, they move along until they come to a steep stairwell leading down. The warrior priest enters the stairwell and begins descending the steps.
“Where are they taking us?” Esix asks.
“Nowhere good I’m sure,” Tinok whispers back.
What dim light there had been in the cell area is all but nonexistent as they enter the stairs. With barely enough light to see the person before them, they follow cautiously as they descend down the steps.
