ordered the girl, as he stepped out of the stall.
There was very slightly more light in the stableyard than in the stall, a peculiar reddish light. He looked up, wondering why starlight should be such a color, and discovered that no stars were visible. Clouds had blown up out of the east, and most of the sky was overcast; the reddish glow was the reflected fires of the active volcanoes and the city's torchlit market. The strip of clear sky to the west narrowed as he watched, a vanishing black gap between the stable wall and the encroaching red-gray clouds.
He shrugged. A little rain never hurt anyone. He strode out the arch to the tavern adjoining.
The taproom was not crowded; half a dozen dark-robed customers sat scattered about among the tables. There was no sign of the two serving maids or their brother, but only a middle-aged woman of unhealthy appearance, carrying away empty mugs and replacing them with full ones.
'Ho, there.'
She glanced his way, but did not pause until she had dealt with her current batch of ale; that properly distributed, she wound her way through the chairs, shoving them under appropriate tables as she went, until she stood in front of the overman.
'And how may I aid you, sir?'
'Have you a lantern? I would tend to my mount, but the light is inadequate.'
'A lantern? Not for sale.'
'Could I borrow one, then? I can pay.'
She shrugged. 'As you please.' She departed, winding her way across the room again to vanish through a door at the back. A moment later she emerged again, a shuttered lantern in her hand. Garth took it, thanked her, dropped a coin in her palm and left; he failed to notice the steady gaze of one of the patrons studying him, and was out of sight through the stable's arch when the same man also departed, walking quickly in the direction of the temple of Tema.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Frima didn't think much of the tunic. It was scarcely longer than the gambeson, and she insisted there was a cold draft on her shins despite the fact that Garth could not feel a breath of air. Further, it was embroidered in red and gold, as was appropriate for a Prince of Ordunin on formal occasions, and she seemed to consider such adornment a sign of decadence. She pointed out that no Dыsarran wore any garment with more than a single color to it, and although the midnight-blue of the tunic was perfectly acceptable, she found the bright trimmings utterly appalling.
Garth let her complain, so long as she wore the thing and returned his padding. He pointed out that he preferred to have her look like a foreigner; she replied that she hadn't known foreigners were so tasteless.
Despite her complaints, Frima donned the tunic. Garth, meanwhile, returned his gambeson to its proper place beneath his mail, tossed aside the hilt of his sword and its now-useless scabbard, and tied his battle-axe to his back. He wished he had thought to bring a second cloak. It was something he would do on any future adventures; that, and a spare pair of boots. He felt very exposed wandering the streets wearing armor openly, as if he were inviting attack; it seemed though that he had no choice. He also thought that carrying the axe was inviting trouble, but it was undoubtedly safer than going unarmed.
Besides, he relied on the fact that the humans would not expect a fugitive to walk openly in their midst.
He had no real plans at this point; he still had three temples to rob, but he was tired and hungry and had a captive to take care of. It occurred to him that he should have gotten food while in the tavern getting the lantern. He stood, and leaned over the door of the stall, peering through the arch at the street.
A pedestrian passed by, and a second later an oxcart followed. There was a hint of dawn in the eastern sky, visible only as a slightly paler shade of gray in the cloud-cover, but present nonetheless. Dugger the stable- boy was gone, and presumably one of his daytime compatriots would show up at any minute; Garth had no desire to waste more money bribing them to silence as he had Dugger. He decided he did not care to venture forth just now, and instead found his meager remaining supply of provisions, left over from his journey.
Frima looked dubiously at the strips of dried meat and the handful of berries he offered her, but took them and ate them; he ate his fill likewise, and washed the unappetizing fare down with the metallic-tasting water from his one remaining canteen, leaving enough for his prisoner to do the same. He was surprised when she made no complaint; it was just as well, though, as she would probably be eating more of the same throughout the long ride back to Skelleth.
His hunger assuaged, he sat back and contemplated whether he would do better to tackle the remaining shrines by daylight or at night; after some thought, he decided he simply didn't have enough information, and asked Frima her opinion.
'Would it be safer to rob the altars of P'hul and Bheleu by night or day, girl?'
Frima, who had said nothing since she stopped complaining about her new garb, answered, 'I don't know.'
'The worshippers live by day, but their ceremonies are held at night, correct?'
'Yes.'
'What of the priests? When do they sleep?'
'I don't know. Perhaps they have no need to sleep at all.'
'Everyone, human or overman, needs to sleep.'
It seemed plain the girl was to be of no use in deciding. It appeared to him that the priests must sleep during the day, and that therefore that would be the optimum time to make his attempt, but if he were seen abroad in daylight he would be inviting retaliation from the cult of Sai.
Of course, at night he was risking the revenge of Tema and Andhur Regvos.
It was no use; he was unable to decide on such a basis. He considered instead what he would do if he did not choose to rob another temple immediately.
Obviously, he would sleep.
Did he want to sleep?
Well, yes, now that the subject came up, he realized he was quite weary and could use a nap. He would take one, and when he woke up he would go rob the next temple.
The matter finally decided, he announced, 'We will sleep now.' Without waiting to see what Frima thought of this, he stretched himself out as best he could on the straw and fell soundly asleep.
Frima did not immediately follow his example, but instead sat and reviewed the events of the night just ending and the one before it. She had been tending her father's shop while he attended the regular moonlight ceremony at the temple when three large men had entered, claiming a pot they had bought there had a faulty seam; she had known that they were lying, for her father was undoubtedly the best tinker in Dыsarra, but had looked at the pot anyway, and found herself gagged, then grabbed, then bound, and carried off in a sack over one man's shoulder. She had spent the following day in a small, cramped cell somewhere, but had been too frightened to sleep for a long time, even though it was obviously after dawn; when at last she had dozed off, it was to be rudely awakened by the same three men, who removed not merely her bonds but her clothes as well, before dragging her, struggling all the way, to the altar of Sai.
She had known, from the instant that the gag was pressed into her mouth, that she was being kidnapped by one of the day-dweller cults; it was a familiar concept, a traditional childhood fear, suddenly become much too real. She had had no real hope of escape; nobody ever escaped from the temples. Instead she had tried to behave properly, as befit a true follower of the night-goddess and the daughter of the city's best tinker. And then, when the ceremony was well under way and she was paying attention to nothing but the pain from the cutting of the priest's knife, this great red-eyed, bloody-handed monster had appeared and freed her.
She was familiar with overmen; every so often one would come to the shop, to buy a belt-buckle or have a harness repaired, never to buy the pots and kettles that were, her father's pride. They spoke rudely and carried swords, and had faces like Death himself-or at least like Bheleu, as represented in the little idols she had seen in the marketplace. She did not like overmen; they were big and dangerous and mysterious, and it was said that they laughed at the gods yet were not struck down, which implied some sorcerous might, although she had never heard
