The King of Koraha, page 17
All those angles on duty guarding caravans and practicing moving the sand had paid off. Shyla’s intense and localized sandstorm was a thing of beauty. Cries of surprise mixed with shouted orders. Storms like this were rare this close to the danger zone. She pelted the thieves, pushed them back, and harassed them, grinning all the while. Fun. Tracking their whereabouts, she kept the pressure on until they reached their shelter.
Once they were inside, she sent a whirlwind of sand to spin around that area, pushing enough magic in it to keep it going for a while. Then she turned to catch up with the caravan.
Her energy started to lag once the initial thrill wore off. The air thickened in the heat. It was an effort to fill her lungs. Sunlight turned painful, its rays needling through her sun cloak. Remembering the gorgeous arcs of light in Nintri’s heart caravan, she marveled that something so deadly could also be so beautiful.
She slowed to a trudge. The distant wagons seemed to float on the heat undulating from the sands. It took her longer than she’d expected to reach the caravan.
Rendor waited for her by the entrance to the travel shelter. He looked over her shoulder. “Do we need to worry about the bandits?”
“No. Do we need to worry about Tahir and his people?”
“No one noticed you were gone until we arrived here. I covered for you.” He studied her. “Do I need to help you inside?”
“No.” She summoned the last of her energy and climbed down the ladder into the cool semi-darkness. Then she drank all her water and collapsed onto a cushion.
* * *
Shyla had a “conversation” with Tahir once she recovered her strength. Seemed he and a number of other caravan owners worked with that particular group of bandits. The road was a bit of a detour, so the caravans only traveled that route when they had passengers. The owners then received twenty-five percent of the toll coins the bandits collected.
Angry fire pulsed in her chest, and Shyla used The Eyes to convince Tahir of the error of his ways. The desire to track down the other owners sizzled in her blood. They were taking advantage of good people!
Sensing her fury, Rendor touched her arm. “The bandits will just attack other caravans. At least this way no one is injured.”
Of course he was right. And anxiety twisted in her stomach as soon as she calmed down. She’d judged Tahir and punished him without any hesitation, just like King Tamburah. Icy fear spread through her body and she shivered. Had she just taken another step toward madness?
Once again, Rendor picked up on her mood. He moved closer. “Don’t worry, we’ll inform the King. Once he has the coins to hire soldiers, these ambushes will be stopped.”
But would the King be able to stop her?
* * *
The rest of the trip to Apanji was uneventful. It was close to darkness when they arrived at the surface buildings of the city. Shyla pointed out the two thick pink columns that stood twenty meters higher than the rest of the structures.
“Those are the pillars of the sky,” she explained to Rendor. “They go all the way down to the bottom of the city.”
“Impressive.”
“Wait until you see them when the sun is up.” Shyla was looking forward to being underground when that happened. It was the best vantage point to view them. Most cities had something that celebrated the Sun Goddess and showcased her glorious sun. Except Zirdai. According to the historic records, Tamburah had destroyed the mirror falls that brought sunlight into Zirdai like a cascade. He’d claimed he was more powerful than the Sun Goddess and everyone should worship him.
Rendor made a few inquiries and found them rooms to rent. The two-room suite was small, clean, and located away from the crowded center. After third meal, Shyla insisted on going to the local market to purchase a map. They would be living here for a while.
Rendor was amused. “You can decipher archaic languages and read ancient maps, but you can’t figure out the signs etched into the walls? How’d you find your way in Zirdai?”
“I bought a map and explored. Besides, those signs only tell you the immediate area. I need to see the whole city.” She spread her hands wide.
“Most city maps are out of date almost immediately,” Rendor said.
“Doesn’t matter, I just need a general layout.”
She found a seller and purchased a map that had enough detail for her purposes. When they returned to their rooms, she spread it out on the table. At first glance, Apanji appeared to be shaped like Zirdai, a deep narrow vase. But upon closer inspection, there was a yawning cavern that had a rectangular shape in the middle of the city. It extended from level ten all the way down to the bottom level.
“There’s another reason why I wanted this.” She tapped the map with her finger. “If you were going to bring in a bunch of mercs and wanted to lay low for a while, where would you stay?”
Rendor peered over her shoulder. “I’d seek out rooms like ours—on the edges, but close to the action.” He pointed to the market, which had been built on tiers up the side of that huge cavern. “In the levels behind the stalls, there’s a number of places for temporary stays. They’re mostly for the merchants and wagon drivers who come and go. However, just beyond that is another grouping of rentals.” Rendor paused. “I could check them out, see if the mercs are there. That would be a good starting point.”
She faced him. “And I’ll infiltrate the monastery and see how many monks Lonato’s pilgrims have converted.”
“No,” Rendor said immediately. “Too dangerous.”
She had expected his resistance. “Not really.” She held up a hand. “By the time Xerxes figures out we’re not coming back to Nintri and sends a message to Apanji, it will take approximately sixty sun jumps. We’ve used forty-eight of them to get here, so we have another twelve sun jumps before word arrives.”
“Fine, then I’ll go with you,” Rendor said.
“You’ll stand out. No one will believe you’re a monk. I know how monasteries work. I can pretend to be a visiting monk, have a look around, and leave.”
“Leave? Just like that?”
“Well, no. I have to see how bad the situation is and fix it if I can. Plus if they’re not converted yet, I’ll talk to their leader about assigning monks to help the King.”
“What if they’re all converted? Are you going to influence an entire monastery?”
“No. I’ll retreat.” When he hesitated, she added, “I escaped the Monks of Callow and they knew who I was right from the start. This time, I’m not announcing that I’m working for the King, and I’ll wear long sleeves to hide the sigil. No one will suspect.”
He grumbled and was clearly not happy, but he didn’t have a solid argument. “How long?”
“Three or four sun jumps at most.” And before he could change his mind, she asked, “Are you going to be able to avoid drawing notice?”
“Don’t worry about me, I know how to blend in.”
They spent the next sun jump together and visited the shaft—a underwhelming name for the gigantic vertical cavern. The pink sky columns speared the space into thirds as if they’d been installed to hold up the city. They both shone with bright white light, illuminating the entire area. There was no need for lanterns when the sun was in the sky.
“What causes it to shine like that?” Rendor asked her.
“It’s something in the stone that transforms the sunlight.” She swept her arm up. “This entire cavern is man-made. Those pillars were discovered when Apanji’s ancestors started building their underground city. They cleared all the sand, dirt, and rocks away, exposing the pink stone until it ended sixty-six levels down.”
“I’m surprised they didn’t stop when they hit water.”
Her attention focused on the waterfall. The massive gush of water poured out from the side of the shaft at around level fifty-seven and fell nine levels down into a huge pool at the bottom of the shaft. The water roared and white froth bubbled in the pool. It looked like a sandstorm raged in the air above, except instead of grains of sand, it was tiny droplets of water misting the area. The heavy moisture smelled rich with minerals.
“The sky pillars are producing natural light. They were smart to expose the entire length to take advantage of that.” Shyla decided she could easily live in Apanji. It was a beautiful city and her favorite so far. Soaking in the happy murmurs of the citizens, she filled her lungs with the lush air. Once they finished helping the King, she looked forward to visiting the other wonders of Koraha. Excited, she entwined her fingers in Rendor’s and squeezed. He grinned at her.
They returned to their rooms so Rendor could demonstrate what she’d be missing while she was at the monastery.
“That should give you plenty of incentive to return,” he said smugly, nuzzling her neck as she gasped for breath.
“Return? Scorching hells, after that I’m never leaving this cushion.”
“I’ve no objections.” His level of smugness increased.
Unfortunately, duty called. Shyla dressed as a Monk of Parzival in a tan-colored tunic and pants, wrapping her turban in their signature style. Then she shouldered her pack and headed for the surface.
Shyla reached topside just as the sun touched the horizon. Sand swirled in the cooling air as the sky changed color, darkening to a deep red. Hiding near the surface buildings, she waited for a caravan to arrive. If none appeared, she’d have to retreat to her rooms and try again the next sun jump. Which she wouldn’t mind doing. At all. Her blood still crackled from Rendor’s goodbye.
A large caravan finally pulled in when only a thin crescent of the sun remained in the sky. The gamelus were panting from the effort to reach the city before full darkness. Their yellow fur was matted with sweat. The owner must have miscalculated the timing or they were waylaid by bandits.
Amid the flurry of activity, Shyla wove through the wagons as if she belonged, then headed toward the monastery at a fast clip. She’d sensed the Monks of Lyons hiding in the sands, watching the city. And now their focus should be on her, a monk on pilgrimage who’d just arrived with the caravan.
As the light faded, Shyla considered removing the druk from her pack. She had a vague idea of where the monastery was located, and most monks would be able to find and track the slight prints left behind by those on patrol. That was if she could see them. Shyla had been following the bumps, but that wouldn’t help with her disguise.
Just as she was fumbling for the druk, a monk appeared in front of her. She jumped in surprise. Guess she’d been distracted.
“Sorry,” he said. “But it’ll take you forever to find the monastery in the dark. I thought I’d save you some time.”
“Thank you.” She’d already forgotten she was supposed to be a monk. They didn’t let their colleagues stumble around in the dark. Strangers, yes. Fellow monks, no.
“I’m Walkur Lyons.” He held out his hand.
“Shasta Parzival.” She gave him a fake name just in case they’d heard of her. Shaking his hand, she hoped Shasta was close enough to Shyla that she remembered to respond when someone called her by that name.
“Zirdai’s pretty far. Are you on a spiritual journey or do you have news for us? We’ve heard rumors about the Water Prince arresting monks.”
“I’m on a pilgrimage, but I can answer your questions as well.”
“Wonderful. You can join the pilgrims from Nintri.”
“Nintri? Have they been here long?” she asked as he led her through the desert.
“No. About three or five sun jumps.” Walkur laughed. “I can’t keep track.”
They arrived at the entrance. Like all the other monasteries Shyla had visited, this one had a single room on the surface. About a dozen monks waited within.
“What took you so long?” a man asked. “We thought you got lost again.”
Chuckles sounded.
“Looks like Walkur’s found another stray. What did we tell you about that?” one woman teased.
“Very funny,” Walkur said. “This is Shasta, she’s from Zirdai. She just got off that caravan we tracked.”
“They made it to Apanji?” a monk asked Walkur in surprise.
“Just about.”
There were mutters about foolish caravan drivers as they all descended into the monastery. A few monks stood guard at the bottom of the steps. Walkur removed his veil, exposing kind brown eyes and a thin black mustache. She guessed he was close to her age, maybe a few circuits older. Walkur then played host, showing Shyla around before escorting her to the guest wing.
“No one is here now, but most of the rooms are taken. However, there’s at least two open. Third meal will start soon. Come join us and I’ll introduce you to Neda. She’s our leader and I’m sure she’ll want to hear the news from Zirdai.”
“Thank you.” Shyla found an empty room at the end of the hallway. The small space held a cushion, a fur, a trunk, a sand clock, and a druk. Memories of her childhood rose. She’d grown up in a room just like this. She placed her sun cloak and pack into the trunk and then locked it before removing the small key. Then she searched for the dining area.
It didn’t take her long to find it. She followed the scent of roasted gamelu meat and the buzz of voices. The monks might be considered different orders, but the layout of their homes was similar. And they all worshiped the Sun Goddess.
Walkur spotted her and gestured for her to join him at his table. He’d taken off his turban, revealing an explosion of black hair. She glanced around before joining him. The Monks of Lyons wore light blue tunics so the dark green of the Callow monks stood out. She noted the Callow monks didn’t all sit together; instead each one sat at a separate table. They noticed her too and their gazes tracked her as she wove through the dining area. She hoped they hadn’t heard from Lonato yet. If Lonato trusted Xerxes, he wouldn’t send a message until the commander informed him of Shyla and Rendor’s escape.
When she arrived, Walkur introduced her to Neda and three other monks. They were between sixty to seventy circuits old and the elders of the monastery. Neda appeared to be around fifty-eight circuits old. Shyla decided to give the leader the benefit of the doubt and not use The Eyes on her. Not unless something the woman said or did triggered suspicion.
“Welcome to Lyons,” Neda said. “We are blessed by your presence.”
“I’m blessed to be welcomed to your monastery,” she said, remembering the proper response.
They exchanged pleasant small talk during the meal, but as soon as Shyla finished eating, Neda leaned close and asked, “What news do you have from Zirdai?”
Interesting how she didn’t ask about the Parzival monks. Shyla couldn’t think of any reason not to tell Neda about the defeat so she reported what had happened from the perspective of a monk that was not directly involved.
“Hanif arrested!” She barked a laugh. “Bet that took some of the puff out of his chest.”
It wasn’t a question, so Shyla ignored it and continued with her story.
“We heard about a sun-kissed who took down the Water Prince and Heliacal Priestess. You say she was part of an organization called the Invisible Sword?” Neda asked.
“Yes.”
“What’s your take on them? Are they like those mercenaries we’ve been hearing about?”
Shyla decided to go for ignorance. “What mercenaries? Aren’t they outlawed?”
“Yes, they are. But they’re forming in some cities, offering their services for hire.”
“The Invisible Sword wasn’t hired. They stopped the atrocities because no one else would or could.”
Neda studied her and Shyla regretted her heated tone. If she’d been as uninvolved as she claimed, she wouldn’t be defending the Invisible Sword.
“It’s rather an odd time for you to leave your home, considering all the recent upheavals in your city,” Neda said.
“That’s why I left. I needed peace to reconnect with the Sun Goddess.”
Neda glanced over to the Callow monks and frowned before returning her attention to Shyla. “You’re welcome to stay, of course.” Then she lowered her voice. “I just don’t know how peaceful it will be here.”
“Is Apanji having troubles?”
“No. It’s an internal matter. A disagreement over what our role is in society. If you want to avoid conflict, I suggest you travel to Catronia.”
“Has our role changed?” Shyla asked, hoping for more information and wanting to confirm that Neda hadn’t been converted yet.
“No. And until I hear otherwise from the King, our role will remain the same for this monastery.”
“That is good to hear. I’ll stay for a little while. If it gets too contentious, I’ll leave.”
Neda stood and the other three, who’d been quiet the entire time, rose as well. “In that case,” Neda said, “prayers are in the chapel at angles zero, eighty, one-sixty, and two-forty. There’s a chore chart in the common room. We’d appreciate it if you could help out once a sun jump.”
“Of course.”
When the monks left, Walkur beamed at her. “That went well, don’t you think?”
“It did. How long are the Callow monks expected to remain?”
His good humor died. “They didn’t say.” Then he hopped to his feet. “Since you’re my stray”—a grin flashed—“you’re my responsibility, which means if you need anything or have any questions, come find me. I work in the kitchen during first meal and help in the growing caverns from angle sixty to one-twenty, then I’m on patrol until darkness. You’re also welcome to help out any of those times. I might as well benefit from finding a stray, don’t you think?”
“I do. Which of the three chores is your favorite?”
“The growing cavern. I just love tending the plants. Our world is so dry and hot and scratchy. And they are so smooth and moist and soft. It does smell bad at times, but if you get close to a leaf…” He pulled in a deep breath as if transported. “It smells divine.” Then he blushed. “Sorry, I… It sounds… I’m…”
“Sounds fun. I’ll see you there.”
He shot her a grateful smile before bolting. As she debated her next move, one of the Callow monks came over to her table.
Once they were inside, she sent a whirlwind of sand to spin around that area, pushing enough magic in it to keep it going for a while. Then she turned to catch up with the caravan.
Her energy started to lag once the initial thrill wore off. The air thickened in the heat. It was an effort to fill her lungs. Sunlight turned painful, its rays needling through her sun cloak. Remembering the gorgeous arcs of light in Nintri’s heart caravan, she marveled that something so deadly could also be so beautiful.
She slowed to a trudge. The distant wagons seemed to float on the heat undulating from the sands. It took her longer than she’d expected to reach the caravan.
Rendor waited for her by the entrance to the travel shelter. He looked over her shoulder. “Do we need to worry about the bandits?”
“No. Do we need to worry about Tahir and his people?”
“No one noticed you were gone until we arrived here. I covered for you.” He studied her. “Do I need to help you inside?”
“No.” She summoned the last of her energy and climbed down the ladder into the cool semi-darkness. Then she drank all her water and collapsed onto a cushion.
* * *
Shyla had a “conversation” with Tahir once she recovered her strength. Seemed he and a number of other caravan owners worked with that particular group of bandits. The road was a bit of a detour, so the caravans only traveled that route when they had passengers. The owners then received twenty-five percent of the toll coins the bandits collected.
Angry fire pulsed in her chest, and Shyla used The Eyes to convince Tahir of the error of his ways. The desire to track down the other owners sizzled in her blood. They were taking advantage of good people!
Sensing her fury, Rendor touched her arm. “The bandits will just attack other caravans. At least this way no one is injured.”
Of course he was right. And anxiety twisted in her stomach as soon as she calmed down. She’d judged Tahir and punished him without any hesitation, just like King Tamburah. Icy fear spread through her body and she shivered. Had she just taken another step toward madness?
Once again, Rendor picked up on her mood. He moved closer. “Don’t worry, we’ll inform the King. Once he has the coins to hire soldiers, these ambushes will be stopped.”
But would the King be able to stop her?
* * *
The rest of the trip to Apanji was uneventful. It was close to darkness when they arrived at the surface buildings of the city. Shyla pointed out the two thick pink columns that stood twenty meters higher than the rest of the structures.
“Those are the pillars of the sky,” she explained to Rendor. “They go all the way down to the bottom of the city.”
“Impressive.”
“Wait until you see them when the sun is up.” Shyla was looking forward to being underground when that happened. It was the best vantage point to view them. Most cities had something that celebrated the Sun Goddess and showcased her glorious sun. Except Zirdai. According to the historic records, Tamburah had destroyed the mirror falls that brought sunlight into Zirdai like a cascade. He’d claimed he was more powerful than the Sun Goddess and everyone should worship him.
Rendor made a few inquiries and found them rooms to rent. The two-room suite was small, clean, and located away from the crowded center. After third meal, Shyla insisted on going to the local market to purchase a map. They would be living here for a while.
Rendor was amused. “You can decipher archaic languages and read ancient maps, but you can’t figure out the signs etched into the walls? How’d you find your way in Zirdai?”
“I bought a map and explored. Besides, those signs only tell you the immediate area. I need to see the whole city.” She spread her hands wide.
“Most city maps are out of date almost immediately,” Rendor said.
“Doesn’t matter, I just need a general layout.”
She found a seller and purchased a map that had enough detail for her purposes. When they returned to their rooms, she spread it out on the table. At first glance, Apanji appeared to be shaped like Zirdai, a deep narrow vase. But upon closer inspection, there was a yawning cavern that had a rectangular shape in the middle of the city. It extended from level ten all the way down to the bottom level.
“There’s another reason why I wanted this.” She tapped the map with her finger. “If you were going to bring in a bunch of mercs and wanted to lay low for a while, where would you stay?”
Rendor peered over her shoulder. “I’d seek out rooms like ours—on the edges, but close to the action.” He pointed to the market, which had been built on tiers up the side of that huge cavern. “In the levels behind the stalls, there’s a number of places for temporary stays. They’re mostly for the merchants and wagon drivers who come and go. However, just beyond that is another grouping of rentals.” Rendor paused. “I could check them out, see if the mercs are there. That would be a good starting point.”
She faced him. “And I’ll infiltrate the monastery and see how many monks Lonato’s pilgrims have converted.”
“No,” Rendor said immediately. “Too dangerous.”
She had expected his resistance. “Not really.” She held up a hand. “By the time Xerxes figures out we’re not coming back to Nintri and sends a message to Apanji, it will take approximately sixty sun jumps. We’ve used forty-eight of them to get here, so we have another twelve sun jumps before word arrives.”
“Fine, then I’ll go with you,” Rendor said.
“You’ll stand out. No one will believe you’re a monk. I know how monasteries work. I can pretend to be a visiting monk, have a look around, and leave.”
“Leave? Just like that?”
“Well, no. I have to see how bad the situation is and fix it if I can. Plus if they’re not converted yet, I’ll talk to their leader about assigning monks to help the King.”
“What if they’re all converted? Are you going to influence an entire monastery?”
“No. I’ll retreat.” When he hesitated, she added, “I escaped the Monks of Callow and they knew who I was right from the start. This time, I’m not announcing that I’m working for the King, and I’ll wear long sleeves to hide the sigil. No one will suspect.”
He grumbled and was clearly not happy, but he didn’t have a solid argument. “How long?”
“Three or four sun jumps at most.” And before he could change his mind, she asked, “Are you going to be able to avoid drawing notice?”
“Don’t worry about me, I know how to blend in.”
They spent the next sun jump together and visited the shaft—a underwhelming name for the gigantic vertical cavern. The pink sky columns speared the space into thirds as if they’d been installed to hold up the city. They both shone with bright white light, illuminating the entire area. There was no need for lanterns when the sun was in the sky.
“What causes it to shine like that?” Rendor asked her.
“It’s something in the stone that transforms the sunlight.” She swept her arm up. “This entire cavern is man-made. Those pillars were discovered when Apanji’s ancestors started building their underground city. They cleared all the sand, dirt, and rocks away, exposing the pink stone until it ended sixty-six levels down.”
“I’m surprised they didn’t stop when they hit water.”
Her attention focused on the waterfall. The massive gush of water poured out from the side of the shaft at around level fifty-seven and fell nine levels down into a huge pool at the bottom of the shaft. The water roared and white froth bubbled in the pool. It looked like a sandstorm raged in the air above, except instead of grains of sand, it was tiny droplets of water misting the area. The heavy moisture smelled rich with minerals.
“The sky pillars are producing natural light. They were smart to expose the entire length to take advantage of that.” Shyla decided she could easily live in Apanji. It was a beautiful city and her favorite so far. Soaking in the happy murmurs of the citizens, she filled her lungs with the lush air. Once they finished helping the King, she looked forward to visiting the other wonders of Koraha. Excited, she entwined her fingers in Rendor’s and squeezed. He grinned at her.
They returned to their rooms so Rendor could demonstrate what she’d be missing while she was at the monastery.
“That should give you plenty of incentive to return,” he said smugly, nuzzling her neck as she gasped for breath.
“Return? Scorching hells, after that I’m never leaving this cushion.”
“I’ve no objections.” His level of smugness increased.
Unfortunately, duty called. Shyla dressed as a Monk of Parzival in a tan-colored tunic and pants, wrapping her turban in their signature style. Then she shouldered her pack and headed for the surface.
Shyla reached topside just as the sun touched the horizon. Sand swirled in the cooling air as the sky changed color, darkening to a deep red. Hiding near the surface buildings, she waited for a caravan to arrive. If none appeared, she’d have to retreat to her rooms and try again the next sun jump. Which she wouldn’t mind doing. At all. Her blood still crackled from Rendor’s goodbye.
A large caravan finally pulled in when only a thin crescent of the sun remained in the sky. The gamelus were panting from the effort to reach the city before full darkness. Their yellow fur was matted with sweat. The owner must have miscalculated the timing or they were waylaid by bandits.
Amid the flurry of activity, Shyla wove through the wagons as if she belonged, then headed toward the monastery at a fast clip. She’d sensed the Monks of Lyons hiding in the sands, watching the city. And now their focus should be on her, a monk on pilgrimage who’d just arrived with the caravan.
As the light faded, Shyla considered removing the druk from her pack. She had a vague idea of where the monastery was located, and most monks would be able to find and track the slight prints left behind by those on patrol. That was if she could see them. Shyla had been following the bumps, but that wouldn’t help with her disguise.
Just as she was fumbling for the druk, a monk appeared in front of her. She jumped in surprise. Guess she’d been distracted.
“Sorry,” he said. “But it’ll take you forever to find the monastery in the dark. I thought I’d save you some time.”
“Thank you.” She’d already forgotten she was supposed to be a monk. They didn’t let their colleagues stumble around in the dark. Strangers, yes. Fellow monks, no.
“I’m Walkur Lyons.” He held out his hand.
“Shasta Parzival.” She gave him a fake name just in case they’d heard of her. Shaking his hand, she hoped Shasta was close enough to Shyla that she remembered to respond when someone called her by that name.
“Zirdai’s pretty far. Are you on a spiritual journey or do you have news for us? We’ve heard rumors about the Water Prince arresting monks.”
“I’m on a pilgrimage, but I can answer your questions as well.”
“Wonderful. You can join the pilgrims from Nintri.”
“Nintri? Have they been here long?” she asked as he led her through the desert.
“No. About three or five sun jumps.” Walkur laughed. “I can’t keep track.”
They arrived at the entrance. Like all the other monasteries Shyla had visited, this one had a single room on the surface. About a dozen monks waited within.
“What took you so long?” a man asked. “We thought you got lost again.”
Chuckles sounded.
“Looks like Walkur’s found another stray. What did we tell you about that?” one woman teased.
“Very funny,” Walkur said. “This is Shasta, she’s from Zirdai. She just got off that caravan we tracked.”
“They made it to Apanji?” a monk asked Walkur in surprise.
“Just about.”
There were mutters about foolish caravan drivers as they all descended into the monastery. A few monks stood guard at the bottom of the steps. Walkur removed his veil, exposing kind brown eyes and a thin black mustache. She guessed he was close to her age, maybe a few circuits older. Walkur then played host, showing Shyla around before escorting her to the guest wing.
“No one is here now, but most of the rooms are taken. However, there’s at least two open. Third meal will start soon. Come join us and I’ll introduce you to Neda. She’s our leader and I’m sure she’ll want to hear the news from Zirdai.”
“Thank you.” Shyla found an empty room at the end of the hallway. The small space held a cushion, a fur, a trunk, a sand clock, and a druk. Memories of her childhood rose. She’d grown up in a room just like this. She placed her sun cloak and pack into the trunk and then locked it before removing the small key. Then she searched for the dining area.
It didn’t take her long to find it. She followed the scent of roasted gamelu meat and the buzz of voices. The monks might be considered different orders, but the layout of their homes was similar. And they all worshiped the Sun Goddess.
Walkur spotted her and gestured for her to join him at his table. He’d taken off his turban, revealing an explosion of black hair. She glanced around before joining him. The Monks of Lyons wore light blue tunics so the dark green of the Callow monks stood out. She noted the Callow monks didn’t all sit together; instead each one sat at a separate table. They noticed her too and their gazes tracked her as she wove through the dining area. She hoped they hadn’t heard from Lonato yet. If Lonato trusted Xerxes, he wouldn’t send a message until the commander informed him of Shyla and Rendor’s escape.
When she arrived, Walkur introduced her to Neda and three other monks. They were between sixty to seventy circuits old and the elders of the monastery. Neda appeared to be around fifty-eight circuits old. Shyla decided to give the leader the benefit of the doubt and not use The Eyes on her. Not unless something the woman said or did triggered suspicion.
“Welcome to Lyons,” Neda said. “We are blessed by your presence.”
“I’m blessed to be welcomed to your monastery,” she said, remembering the proper response.
They exchanged pleasant small talk during the meal, but as soon as Shyla finished eating, Neda leaned close and asked, “What news do you have from Zirdai?”
Interesting how she didn’t ask about the Parzival monks. Shyla couldn’t think of any reason not to tell Neda about the defeat so she reported what had happened from the perspective of a monk that was not directly involved.
“Hanif arrested!” She barked a laugh. “Bet that took some of the puff out of his chest.”
It wasn’t a question, so Shyla ignored it and continued with her story.
“We heard about a sun-kissed who took down the Water Prince and Heliacal Priestess. You say she was part of an organization called the Invisible Sword?” Neda asked.
“Yes.”
“What’s your take on them? Are they like those mercenaries we’ve been hearing about?”
Shyla decided to go for ignorance. “What mercenaries? Aren’t they outlawed?”
“Yes, they are. But they’re forming in some cities, offering their services for hire.”
“The Invisible Sword wasn’t hired. They stopped the atrocities because no one else would or could.”
Neda studied her and Shyla regretted her heated tone. If she’d been as uninvolved as she claimed, she wouldn’t be defending the Invisible Sword.
“It’s rather an odd time for you to leave your home, considering all the recent upheavals in your city,” Neda said.
“That’s why I left. I needed peace to reconnect with the Sun Goddess.”
Neda glanced over to the Callow monks and frowned before returning her attention to Shyla. “You’re welcome to stay, of course.” Then she lowered her voice. “I just don’t know how peaceful it will be here.”
“Is Apanji having troubles?”
“No. It’s an internal matter. A disagreement over what our role is in society. If you want to avoid conflict, I suggest you travel to Catronia.”
“Has our role changed?” Shyla asked, hoping for more information and wanting to confirm that Neda hadn’t been converted yet.
“No. And until I hear otherwise from the King, our role will remain the same for this monastery.”
“That is good to hear. I’ll stay for a little while. If it gets too contentious, I’ll leave.”
Neda stood and the other three, who’d been quiet the entire time, rose as well. “In that case,” Neda said, “prayers are in the chapel at angles zero, eighty, one-sixty, and two-forty. There’s a chore chart in the common room. We’d appreciate it if you could help out once a sun jump.”
“Of course.”
When the monks left, Walkur beamed at her. “That went well, don’t you think?”
“It did. How long are the Callow monks expected to remain?”
His good humor died. “They didn’t say.” Then he hopped to his feet. “Since you’re my stray”—a grin flashed—“you’re my responsibility, which means if you need anything or have any questions, come find me. I work in the kitchen during first meal and help in the growing caverns from angle sixty to one-twenty, then I’m on patrol until darkness. You’re also welcome to help out any of those times. I might as well benefit from finding a stray, don’t you think?”
“I do. Which of the three chores is your favorite?”
“The growing cavern. I just love tending the plants. Our world is so dry and hot and scratchy. And they are so smooth and moist and soft. It does smell bad at times, but if you get close to a leaf…” He pulled in a deep breath as if transported. “It smells divine.” Then he blushed. “Sorry, I… It sounds… I’m…”
“Sounds fun. I’ll see you there.”
He shot her a grateful smile before bolting. As she debated her next move, one of the Callow monks came over to her table.
