Midnight Quest (39 page)

“At least the taste is good,” Chizeld observed.

“They’re good cooks,” Sarvell agreed. “You’re just not going to eat anything hot.”

“Lass?”

“Yes, Rialt.”

“Get us in and out of this place quickly.”

She lifted her glass, which he clinked his own against. “I’ll do my best.”

~*~*~*~

Before leaving Morton altogether the next morning, party reached a general consensus that visiting the local Temple of Elahandra would be a good idea. After all, the theory about the Jordia crystal being far to the north was just that—a plausible theory. There was no need to travel all of that distance if there wasn’t a reason to.

So Sarvell led the way down the main street and to the center of town where the temple sat. As expected of a small town, the building wasn’t very large. It was made of white granite, as all temples were, with two prayer rooms and a larger main door in the center.

Chizeld had heard Jewel remark happily several times that the Jordian temple visit would be the easiest by far. After all, Elahandra was the goddess of Jordia. Jewel didn’t have to go and ask permission—already had it. Instead of two temple visits, Jewel was only required to do one, the more formal visit of a high priestess to a temple priestess.

No one had really anticipated that this visit, out of all, would actually be the most taxing.

How the priestesses had known of coming, Chizeld had no idea, but there must have been at least some forewarning, as a veritable feast had been laid out. The three old crones were nearly shaking with happiness, almost teary-eyed, with the most formal version of the white Order robes on and every grey hair in place. Chizeld, sort of, sympathized. These women had likely been in this small temple most of life, with absolutely nothing of consequence happening. Then, out of the blue, not only did a high priestess appear but
the
Guardian of the Barrier. It was a wonder no one had experienced heart failure yet.

The women had promptly captured Jewel by both arms and dragged straight to the dining table and then further pinned Jewel in place by sitting close by. Rialt, uneasy, had chosen to stand behind Jewel’s chair, further blocking any exit.

Chizeld managed to escape from the opening pleasantries by asking politely to examine the records, which the three priestesses promptly granted permission for. Since the records were well organized (and largely neglected, judging from the amount of dust), it took mere moments to find a very old Order book that held record of a high priestess being called in Jordia to Lyra. The only reason why Lyra would need a high priestess was to manage a crystal. Confirmation enough.

Hoping to circumvent a torturous visit like the one in Bryn, Chizeld hurried back to the main room where everyone was gathered. Alas…there was no escape.

Jewel had managed well enough the first hour, politely responding to all of the questions, but when the conversation started to get repetitive, a strained smile appeared.

Rialt started casting Chizeld pointed looks, waiting for the same magical phrase that had released them from the
last
bothersome visit. But Chizeld didn’t think that would work here. Verisians were
very
well versed in protocol and etiquette. Misquoting something would only make the guardsman seem like an idiot and likely spark a lecture on proper protocol to boot.

 Impatient, Rialt finally shifted over to lean closer to Chizeld’s ear, murmuring, “Do we need to bide three hours again afore you pipe up, man?”

Chizeld gave a small, helpless shake of the head. “Women likely know Order protocol better. The same trick won’t work here.”

Judging from the dark scowl that slammed over Rialt’s face, that wasn’t the right answer. Turning, the Ramathan caught Sarvell’s attention and waved the man closer. Sarvell, who had been standing on Rialt’s left side, only had to sidle over a few feet to join in on the whispered conversation. With a wary eye on the burbling priestesses, Sarvell kept the tone low. “What?”

“Chizeld says the same trick will no work here,” Rialt reported in a near growl. “Any ideas?”

Sarvell favored Rialt with quite the look. “If I had, do you think we’d still be standing around here?”

“You be the traveling guide,” Rialt responded with a hiss. “Say we be rushed on time, or some such.”

“Rialt, for the love of the gods, I am not going to lie in front of
four
priestesses.” Sarvell darted another cautious look at the women, but the ladies carried on, oblivious. “We have plenty of time to get to Jordia and you know it.”

Rialt looked between both and then rolled eyes heavenward. “Oh for the love of—”

Heaving an explosive sigh, the man took a deliberate step forward and laid a hand on Jewel’s shoulder.

“Lass, we can no bide here much longer,” the words were announced at just the right volume to cut through the chatter.

Chizeld had to bite the bottom lip, hard, to keep from laughing when Rialt followed up the words with a caress along the axe’s hilt and a meaningful look at the women. All three priestesses froze, looking at the axe with alarm.

“If we bide much longer, the assassins might catch on, you ken,” Rialt added, almost as if an afterthought.

Jewel, proving to be a fine actress, responded in consternation, “Oh dear, have we been here that long? I am so terribly sorry, sisters. I had not thought to stay and endanger any of you. Please, before I bring danger to your doorstep, do allow me to leave your hospitality.”

“Assassins?” one woman squeaked faintly, looking strangely green in the face.

“Corbeird is not pleased with my progress,” Jewel responded with splayed hands. “He has been seeking to thwart me by sending Daath assassins. You do understand, I hope.”

“Yes,” the middle priestess managed to say. “Quite.”

With a winsome smile, Jewel managed to scoot back the chair and stand up from the table all in one motion. “Thank you ever so much for your time and for the lovely meal. Elahandra’s blessings be with you.”

Rialt snagged Jewel’s hand before one step could be taken and set a course for the outside at a brisk walk. Chizeld and Sarvell exchanged amused glances as both men followed along. Only Rialt would think to
threaten
the way out of that situation.

After reaching the outside, with the door safely closed, Jewel announced to no one in particular, “This is the
last
time that I do any sort of formal temple visit. From now on, I’m just going to be rude!”

Rialt’s scowl eased and a slow chuckle tumbled forth. “I second the motion, lass.”

“Third,” Chizeld chimed in, untying the reins horse.

“Motion carried,” Sarvell played along, mounting in an easy motion. “Now let’s get out of here before someone can think to catch us.”

“Where to?” Jewel asked, her foot already in the stirrup.

Chizeld met the men’s looks with a smug smile. “Lyra.”

~*~*~*~

Jewel didn’t quite know if she was relieved or anxious about leaving Morton. Having to constantly check her every word to avoid offending the Jordians around her was tiring. On the other hand, once they left Morton, they only had a few hours of travel before they entered the Blenkhorn Mountains. Well-traveled highway or no, she did
not
look forward to that leg of the trip.

What it really boiled down to was which she preferred to trip over: words or roots.

They mounted up that morning and headed back toward the highway. The storm the day before had turned the path into one of puddles and mud. Jewel could feel it being splashed onto the hem of her skirt and her boots. Of course if she were getting muddy riding along in this, she couldn’t
imagine
what Bortonor was like. His fur would be caked in mud by this evening.

Sleeping with a muddy dog. Now didn’t
that
sound appealing.

The majority of the day didn’t present her any real trouble considering they were on horseback most of the time. Since they were still on a major highway, they encountered quite a bit of traffic. This road
was
the most direct route from Veris to Jordia, after all.

Most of it consisted of caravans and traders. Jordia had a long history of producing very high quality instruments, art, and things of that nature. Veris enjoyed trading anything they could lay their hands on. The two clans were on good terms with each other just because of business alone.

People traveling south toward Veris were of a good humor and were perfectly willing to trade a few words as they passed the party. They assured Sarvell that the road ahead was clear, or had been when they passed through, so everyone anticipated no problems ahead.

Jewel’s problems were just starting, though.

The highway had dozens of spots off to the side of the road that were meant for camping. This mountain seemed to have little pockets of waterfalls and streams all over the place, giving every camping spot access to water. People clearly used the same spot over and over, as a niche had been carved in over time. As long as Jewel stayed inside the camp area she had no problems.

But, of course, a girl couldn’t stay directly in the camp the entire time.

She took Bortonor with her to answer a call of nature, and spent the entire distance away from the camp stumbling over deadfall and brushing against rough tree trunks. By the time she had turned around and started for the camp again, her hair had been caught three times on limbs, she’d nearly fallen twice, and had careened right off of one tree into another. Bortonor was doing his best to keep her on a straight path, but the density of the woods made this nigh impossible.

“Here now, lass, hold up.” Rialt’s heavy stride approached her at a quick, sure pace. “I’ll get you.”

“I
hate
mountains,” she declared venomously.

“I know,” he answered patiently. Fortunately for him, not a trace of humor could be detected in his voice. If he
had
found this situation funny, to see her stumbling about like a drunkard, she’d have hit him as soon as he was in range. “Here, I’ll carry you back.”

Jewel typically would have insisted on finding her own way back, but right now she’d take any help offered. When he lifted her up into his arms, she put her head into the crook of his neck, as if hiding from the world, and gathered his shirt collar into a tight fist.

“Mountains are evil.”

“Absolutely,” he agreed deadpan. “Should be abolished.”

“And forests too.”

“I will get right on it.”

Somehow he managed to tickle her funny bone and she smiled. “I am being ridiculous, aren’t I?”

“I did no say that,” he pointed out mildly.

You didn’t have to
, she didn’t say aloud. She lifted her head to say something, but the sensation that brushed against her forehead didn’t match with the image of Rialt she had in her head. Frowning, she lifted a hand and felt along his jaw. “Rialt, when did you shave your beard off?”

“Eh? Ah, last night. It be a mite too warm to be covered in hair.” He turned and started walking back toward the camp in an even stride. “I always shave in the spring. Beard be like to itch a man to death otherwise.”

She supposed that did make sense. “Do you cut your hair too?”

“No, just tied it up.”

Good. She didn’t want him to make too many changes. She rather liked him the way he was.

As sweet as this was for him to come fetch her, Jewel didn’t really like the idea of having to be rescued every time that she went more than a dozen steps from the camp. There
were
difficulties being the only woman traveling with a group of men after all. “Rialt…how long will it take to clear the mountains at this rate?”

“Four days, belike.”

Four days? Jewel’s head thunked against his shoulder. At this moment, that seemed like an eternity.

Chapter Twenty-six

Jewel had never been so glad to get back on flat land in her life. Still, even after they left the mountains it took another two days of travel to reach the Jordian crystal. No one was really surprised to find that it was in Lyra, the capitol city of Jordia. It would have to be at the far north of the clan’s territory, after all, for it to be in line with the other crystals.

As they entered Lyra, Jewel turned her head this way and that, collecting all of the information that her senses could tell her. This city had a very different feel to it than others. Most cities had a certain level of noise from the traffic, various shops, and workshops. But this city didn’t adhere to that general rule. Jewel cocked her head in bemusement.

“I’m not hearing a lot of people. Is the city not very populated?”

“Eh?” Rialt paused a moment before responding, as if he were just now realizing what she asked. “No, lass, it be as full up with people as any other. But they be quieter.”

“It’s part of the Jordian culture,” Sarvell offered from up ahead. “They don’t believe on imposing on people in any way, and that includes being too noisy. You’ll find that they only get loud when the occasion calls for it.”

Jewel smiled. She hated noisy places just on general principal, so being in a place that wouldn’t hurt her ears sounded like paradise.

“The man standing near the gate—see?” Chizeld asked suddenly.

“Where?” Sarvell asked, but quickly added, “Oh, him? He’s in the Order’s red uniform, so, is he Jordia’s armsman?”

“Yes,” Chizeld confirmed. “One of the men sent to the Jordian high priestess. Good. This way can be guided directly to priestess.”

Jewel echoed that sentiment with relief. At least with this priestess they wouldn’t have to go looking for her. “Who is it, Chizeld?”

“Stiles,” he responded before raising his voice slightly. “Stiles!”

The other man gave no audible response, but he must have waved or something as Chizeld didn’t try calling out to him again. Heavy steps came toward them in a half-run before stopping just as quickly.

“Sir! Priestess Havenevik bids welcome. Wished for the party to be guided in.”

“By all means, Stiles, lead the way,” Jewel encouraged him.