Kerra jumped up in alarm when the door burst open. Blade strode in, slightly out of breath. He had only been gone a few minutes, and she expected an explanation, but he ignored her and pulled something from his pack before stripping one of the dirty sheets off the bed and draping it over her head. She quelled an automatic urge to pull it off, reminding herself, as she constantly did, of her vow of obedience. He took her arm and hustled her out of the door. She stumbled through the garbage that littered the alley, almost unable to match the speed at which he dragged her along.
Once again, she fought the desire to jerk free of his hand and refuse to take another step until he had told her the reason for his unseemly haste and the enforced indignity of the smelly sheet. She did not doubt that he had good reason, probably the imminent arrival of pursuers, but she would have liked to have been consulted on the matter before he took such drastic action.
At the end of the lane, they entered a busy street thronging with people and livestock pushing and shoving in a bleating, shouting mass along manure-splattered roads. Blade glanced around, then pulled her towards a lumbering wagon overladen with vegetables. Ignoring her gasp of surprise, he heaved her over the side of it and into the pungent mass of cabbages and carriroots. Moments later he joined her, meeting her angry eyes with a slight, wry smile.
"Are you going to tell me what is going on?" Kerra demanded, struggling to find purchase on the slippery vegetables.
His smile broadened at her plight. "Remember what I said about laying plans? They always go wrong. Even my plan to buy dye and clothes was doomed to fail, and it was very short term."
"What happened?" She managed to steady herself on the shifting vegetables.
"Dog soldiers. Endor must have a lot more men than we thought. He probably sent them ahead to infiltrate the city in disguise. He could have hundreds here that we do not know about. I encountered a pair on my way to the vendors, and they were on your trail."
Kerra glanced past him in amazement at the multitudes that crammed the streets behind the cart. She knew all about dog soldiers, she had plenty in her army. That they could track her through this swarm of humanity was incredible, and she turned her astounded gaze upon him once more.
"They were tracking us through this?"
"Oh, they were having a great deal of difficulty, or they would have been at the door at dawn." His smile faded and a faint frown puckered his brow. "I should have considered the possibility, remote though it would have seemed."
"What could you have done about it?"
"Lots of things. Left a false trail, gone through a few barns, taken the aerial route." He gestured to the passing rooftops on either side of the road. "The assassins' highway, some call it. I never used it much, it was too much trouble. Many of my comrades do though, especially when leaving their kills. Dogs cannot follow you on the roofs."
"I would have liked an explanation before you dragged me about."
His brows rose. "There was no time, and it would have served no purpose."
"It would have been polite." She started to tug off the smelly sheet, but he reached out and held it in place.
"You will take that off when I say so, not before."
She glared at him. "How close were they?"
"Too close for my liking, only two streets away on Vendor's Lane."
"Did they see you?"
He smiled at her naiveté. "No."
"Then why did you run back to the room?"
"To give us a head start."
Kerra peered over the edge of the cart at the hubbub on the street around them, horrified by the overcrowded squalor. The palace abounded with paintings of grand country manors and scenes of rural bliss, even a few cityscapes, but nothing like this. Women hung washing on lines across the street, shouting at their neighbours to be heard over the ruckus from below.
Ragged beggars crouched in dark doorways, their dirty hands outstretched to pluck at the fine clothes of the more affluent, who shook them off. Scabby children picked pockets and stole food from vendors, fighting with mangy dogs over scraps in the gutters. Some had been mutilated and forced to beg, displaying twisted limbs beneath their rags. Young women bared themselves in windows, calling out to men and inviting them to sample their wares, some younger than Kerra. The entire scene, with its vile smells, filthy vistas and raucous sounds, repulsed her.
Turning away, she found Blade watching her with narrowed eyes, his lips twisted into a bitter line. He had lived amongst these people, in these conditions, for most of his life, and she looked away in embarrassment. She was glad when he turned to scan the street ahead.
"Where are we going?"
He shrugged. "Wherever this cart is, for now. As soon as you set foot on the ground, the hounds will be able to pick up your scent again."
"What about you?" she demanded, annoyed that he made it sound like she was to blame.
"I doubt that they are following me. I left nothing at the palace to give them my scent. Besides, it is you he wants."
"He wants to chop off your head."
"Not as badly as he wants to capture you." Something caught Blade's attention, and he sat up and gazed over the side of the cart before turning to her. "We are getting off here."
Kerra got to her knees as he climbed over the side of the cart and dropped to the ground. She jumped down, stumbling a little, and to her surprise he swept her up in his arms and carried her across the road. The pedestrians parted to let him through, most with hostile glares, some with startled or curious glances. His garb advertised his profession, and it was rare to see an assassin abroad in daylight, especially carrying a young girl wrapped in a sheet. Those who did not avoid him, he pushed aside, ignoring the few who protested. Only a few yards up the street, he entered an arched doorway made of pale stone, where he set her on her feet. They faced the polished brass door of a temple, and he leant past her to pull on the bell cord.
"You will remain silent," he instructed, ignoring her slight pout.
Within moments, the door creaked open, and a white-robed priestess studied them.
Blade said, "We ask for sanctuary."
The priestess' eyes raked him. "You are -"
"A Knight of the Veil." Blade took a gold medallion from his pocket and held it out for her to inspect. The priestess glanced at it and bowed, opening the door fully. Kerra followed him into the temple, glancing around at the bare stone decor and the intricate mosaics that adorned it. The priestess led them down a short corridor and knocked on a door, opening it when a voice from within gave her permission.
They entered a small, book-lined room that was almost as bare as the corridor outside. Incense filled the air with a cloying, flowery scent. An older priestess sat at a desk, dressed in a white robe with a silver snake emblem on the breast that denoted her higher rank, her iron grey hair pulled back from her gaunt, careworn face. She glanced up at them, then raised a brow at the young priestess.
"He is a sacred Knight of the Veil, Mother Rozin," the young woman explained. "He has asked for sanctuary."
The older woman studied Blade's bruised face. "I know of only one Knight who scorns his uniform and continues to dress as an assassin."
"I was an assassin, sister."
"You are many things, Sir Conash. Assassin, Knight, lord, and husband to the Regent. I take it you are here in your role as Knight?"
"I am."
"Good. And what do you require sanctuary from? Those who injured you?"
He shrugged. "Does it matter?"
"Yes," she said. "If trouble follows you, I want to know its shape and form, so I will see it coming."
"Hopefully it will not follow me here, but you will know it if it does." He met her stern gaze. "The less you know, the better, learned sister."
The priestess folded her hands and sat back. "Very well. What do you require?"
"Food, a bath, a uniform for myself and robes for my young charge. Then passage from the city to a southern town, with an escort."
Her brows rose. "Sir Conash, since your dedication at the High Temple sixteen years ago, you have not set foot on holy ground. I think a visit to the inner shrine is called for, before we fulfil any of your requirements."
"Sister, every moment we are here increases your danger. I recommend a swift departure."
The woman's eyes flicked to Kerra, who pulled the dirty sheet more tightly around her head, holding it under her chin so it hid all but her face.
"Presumably she is the reason for your plight."
"Indeed."
"She is a child. I will assume that you have fulfilled a Knightly duty and rescued her from abuse. She is entitled to sanctuary, as are you." She stood and walked around the desk to face them. "I agree with your need for a speedy departure, but rest assured, undesirables cannot enter a temple. You will enter the inner shrine to be anointed before you leave."
"As you wish." Blade's eyes grew a little frostier.
"Sister Mistra will take your charge to be washed and fed."
"No. She stays with me. I want a room prepared, with a bath, fresh clothes and food. And I recommend you have someone wash your doorstep and sprinkle it with pungent scent."
She shot him a sharp glance. "Dog men?"
"Yes."
"I see." She nodded to the younger woman, who left to make the arrangements. "She will see to it. Now, if you will follow me, I will take you to the shrine."
Mother Rozin walked past them to the door, and Blade followed with obvious reluctance. Kerra trailed behind, glancing into bare rooms and tiny alcoves filled pools of water and smoking incense sticks or potted plants and little lamps. Distant singing wafted on the cool breeze that blew along the corridor, and she realised that although the street frontage of this building was small, the temple was in fact quite large.
The priestess stopped before a brass door and pushed it open, ushering them into another small, bare room, this one with a marble plinth at its centre that supported an alabaster basin of fizzing water. Sticks of incense burnt in brass pots in the corners of the chamber, and a flowering shrub basked in a pool of light from a high window.
Kerra cast her mind back to the teachings of her tutor to find the meaning of the various symbols. Tinsharon was the god of life and death, represented in the alcoves by the incense for death and the water for life, or the lamps for death and the plants for life. Here the combination was incense and plants. The clear fizzing liquid in the basin was holy water, collected from the sacred spring and used for religious ceremonies.
Mother Rozin indicated that Kerra should stand next to the door, then joined Blade at the basin. He turned to face the priestess, a wry smile twisting his lips. Kerra's gaze grew more intent as he unlaced his jacket, and Mother Rozin picked up a golden cup from a low stone table. The former assassin shucked his leather jacket and unbuttoned the black shirt he wore beneath it, easing the sleeves over the armed dagger sheaths strapped to his forearms.
Their presence startled her, for she had thought that the Cotti had disarmed him, although upon reflection, she should have realised he would have retrieved his weapons. She looked away as he removed his shirt and a tight leather vest to reveal a sculpted torso ridged with muscle, but curiosity dragged her eyes back. The pink scars on his chest were once more exposed, but now he also revealed pale scars on his back, long lines in the distinctive pattern that only a flogging could have made. Chiana had not mentioned anything about him ever being flogged, and she wondered who had done it. The bandage on his shoulder was stained with blood, and Mother Rozin frowned at it.
The priestess dipped the golden cup into the fizzing water and held it up as Blade sank down on one knee. He submitted with ill grace to the ritual, clearly unmoved by it. Mother Rozin dipped her fingers into the holy water and anointed his brow with it, then bade him rise and repeated the procedure on his chest. Walking behind him, she dabbed the holy water on either side of his spine and at the base of it. Pouring the remainder of the holy water back into the basin, she replaced the cup on the table and turned to face him.
"Walk in Tinsharon's pure light, Sir Conash, and may he ever watch over you." She bowed to him, clasping her hands before her, and he turned to pick up his vest, donning it before he tugged his shirt over the wrist sheaths.
When he was dressed, Mother Rozin led them back into the corridor and along it to a bare room containing a few potted plants and two wooden benches. She indicated that they should wait there, then left. Blade went over to the bench and sat down with a sigh, tugging at his sleeves. Kerra joined him, perching on the edge of the hard seat. After a few minutes, the younger priestess appeared with the news that their room was ready and a carriage would be waiting when they were finished.
For the first time, Blade was glad Minna-Satu had insisted he become a Knight, despite the tiresome rigmarole it sometimes entailed. Until now, he had not made use of the privileges it accorded him, nor had he performed any service for the temples. His other titles meant nothing to the priestesses, but his knighthood made him a part of their inner cloister and privy to their most sacred rituals. He was a priest of Tinsharon, ordained with water from the sacred river and blessed by the high priestess.
No man could enter the temples except priests and Knights, and all sacrificed their manhood for the privilege, just as the priestesses remained virginal all their lives. The temples were sanctuaries for women and children whose menfolk abused or cast them out onto the streets. Orphans were reared in the larger temples, many of them dedicating their lives to the god whose servants had raised them.
The young priestess led them to another room, where she left them. A tub of steaming water stood behind a curtain in one corner, and a pot of meaty stew and two bowls waited on a table. Two sets of clothes hung across the back of a chair. Other than that, the room was as bare as the rest of the temple, for although the church was rich and the shrines covered with gold, the priestesses lived simple lives and owned nothing. As soon as they were alone, Kerra pulled off the sheet with a grimace, throwing it on the floor. Blade went to the table and sat down to ladle stew into a bowl.
"Bath," he ordered the Queen.
Kerra shot him a cross look, but went behind the curtain, and soon splashed in the tub. When she was finished, he took his turn, and she donned the white acolyte’s robe before she ate her cooling stew. After his bath, Blade dressed in the uniform of a Knight for the first time, disliking it. White was not his colour, and the mail shirt pinched him under the arms. The uniform was a reasonably good fit, and the pale grey leggings tucked into soft boots of the same hue.
Rolling his old clothes into a bundle, he tucked them under his arm and inspected the Queen's new outfit. The simple robe possessed a hood, and he pulled it up before opening the door. The young priestess waited outside, and led them to the back of the temple. Mother Rozin stood talking to four Knights, who were to be his escort, presumably. Blade wore his medallion on the outside of his tabard as they did, and they nodded to him in a friendly, if distant manner. Kerra kept her head down, and Blade turned to thank the priestess as the girl climbed into the coach. She accepted his thanks with a gracious nod, her eyes twinkling.
"Take good care of your charge, Sir Conash. Sir Raylin and the others will escort you to Ferndar, which should suit your needs."
"I am sure it will, sister."
"Good luck, Sir Conash, and safe journey."
Blade climbed into the white and gold carriage beside Kerra, tucking his bundle of clothes under the seat, and the coachman whipped up the team of four grey horses. Two Knights rode ahead of the coach and two behind, also on greys. They took a narrow, less crowded street out of the city, and before long they reached the gates. There the usual Jashimari guards now had two Cotti companions, and Blade tensed. The Jashimari sentries made no move to stop them, but the Cotti stepped into their path, and the coachman pulled up his team. Blade tugged Kerra's hood further over her face as the Cotti came up to the coach and peered in through the window. They studied Blade, then one jerked his chin at the Queen.
"Pull back the hood."
Blade frowned, noting that Raylin and the other Knights were dismounting. "No. It is forbidden to display the face of a vestal virgin to an uncastrated man."
The Cotti's lip curled. "No one leaves the city unless they show themselves."
"Then you will have to make an exception."
"No exceptions."
"You do not have the authority to stop the church's Knights from performing their duties."
The Cotti snorted. "I've got orders to stop all traffic until I find a blonde girl."
"Who ordered this?"
"Prince Endor."
"Since when does a Cotti give orders in Jashimari?" Blade enquired. "Only the Regent can order the church Knights, or the Queen herself, and you are neither. Your prince would not dare to offend the church and incur the wrath of Tinsharon. The high priestess will order his dreams to be altered, and yours, if you do not let us pass unmolested."
The soldier glanced at his comrade for support, but the other man scowled. The Cotti were a superstitious race, and dreaded Tinsharon's wrath. Blade had learnt all their peculiarities when he had been their slave as a child, and used it to his advantage whenever possible.
The Jashimari worshipped Tinsharon as a giver of life as well as death, a protector and a destroyer, but to the Cotti he was a fierce and vengeful god with a great bloodlust. All catastrophes and natural disasters were blamed on Tinsharon's wrath, and the nobles strived to please him with their cruel deeds. The only thing guaranteed to cow a Cotti more than the Prince's ire was Tinsharon's, and Blade leant closer to increase the menace of his words.
"I assure you, the one you seek is not here, but a higher power protects us. You are brave indeed to provoke Tinsharon by insulting one of his servants. Perhaps his wrath will fall on your prince and not you, but he will surely seek the one who has brought the god's curse down upon his head."
The soldiers shifted and glanced around, as if expecting Tinsharon to jump out of the woodwork and strike them down. If the situation had not been so dire, their expressions would have amused Blade. He deliberately used Tinsharon's name often, since most people believed that speaking his name drew the god's attention, and few wanted his scrutiny, especially Cotti.
Blade pressed home his advantage. "Step aside now, and no one need ever know that we passed this way without your seeing the face of one young virgin."
The first Cotti nodded, but his comrade muttered something in his ear, and he frowned, then turned to argue with the other man. Blade watched them, fairly confident that his words would have the desired effect once they had finished their debate. The first guard looked up and waved them through. The second Cotti still looked unhappy, but had evidently bowed to the other's superior wisdom. Blade settled back into his seat with a sigh as the driver whipped up his team and the Knights remounted their steeds.
As they rattled away from the city along a rutted road, Kerra pushed back her hood enough to shoot him an incredulous look.
"Chiana said that you were a consummate liar, Blade, but I have never heard such a ridiculous yarn, and yet they believed you."
He smiled. "The Cotti fear Tinsharon's wrath more than anything. They just needed to be threatened with it. The Cotti priesthood use it to control the masses, and I spoke to them as one of their priests would."
"Is this why you chose this method to leave the city?"
"Of course."
"But there is no prohibition against a man seeing a priestess' face," she pointed out.
"They do not know that."
"How could you be so sure? If you had been mistaken, it would have gone badly for us."
He shook his head. "I know the Cotti, Kerra. They think themselves superior, and do not bother to learn about other cultures. If they had insisted, the Knights would have dealt with them while we made our escape. That is why I asked for an escort."
"I see." She glanced at the passing scenery. "Why are we going south?"
"Because Endor will expect me to go north, deeper into Jashimari."
"I would like to be consulted in future, Lord Conash. I may not be well versed in the ways of the world, but I should like to know what is to happen, even if you do not want my opinion."
He inclined his head. "Very well. Wherever possible."
After they had travelled in silence for a few minutes, the Queen began to pleat her robe and bite her lip, which told Blade that she was trying to get up the nerve to ask him something she knew she should not. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, wondering what inappropriate query she had on her mind, and whether she would ask it.
When she spoke, he tended to forget her youth, for the best teachers had moulded her manners and speech, which gave her a false air of wisdom. If he did not look at her and ignored the higher tone of her voice, he could sometimes hear Minna-Satu. Just when he was beginning to think that she would not speak, she blurted, "How did you get the scars on your back?"
His mouth twisted in distaste. "You have your mother's curiosity, I see. However, my mishaps are not for your entertainment."
"You were flogged, that much I can gather, the only mystery is by whom."
"A man with a whip."
"And did you kill him?"
"No." A faint smile curled his lips. "He lived to regret it."
"Was it my father?"
"No."
"But you hate him."
He glanced at her. "He is a Cotti, but he has some redeeming qualities."
"You hate all Cotti, so how do you feel about me?"
"Does it matter?"
"I am at your mercy."
"So you are." He gazed out of the window, his expression shuttered. "But do you think Chiana would have entrusted you to me if she did not know you would be safe?"
"How well does she know you?"
He smiled. "A good question. Probably better than you suspect."
"She loves you very much. All my life, she has told me stories about you."
"Good, then you will not plague me with questions."
"Were you this rude to my mother?"
"Quite often."
Kerra settled into the corner of the coach, where she could study him. "How did you get free at the palace?"
"I killed the guards."
"You were unarmed and injured."
"I was once an assassin, too."
"But -"
"Enough questions." He rubbed his brow. "I have a headache."
The Queen pouted, but turned to stare out of the window, and Blade leant back, closing his eyes.