Kihrin had seen dead bodies before, but it took all his strength not to throw up. This was someone he knew.
Kihrin tossed the room as best he could. He even looked in the secret wall safe Butterbelly hadn’t thought he knew about. The stolen emerald tsali stone was missing.
Butterbelly had known where Kihrin lived. He had known where to find Kihrin, where to find Ola and Surdyeh. Kihrin could hope that Pretty Boy and Dead Man now had the emerald necklace they wanted, but if they also desired no living witnesses—and didn’t care who they hurt when hunting for one …
“Pappa…”
The young thief ran.
23: MORNING SERVICE
(Kihrin’s story)
I stared at the vista rearing up before me as I came around the bend.
The winding trail left behind fog and jungle, switchbacking up the sides of the mountain at the center of the island. The path became cobblestone, although the stone was warped and twisted in sections. No one could approach within five hundred feet of that thin, snaking trail without being seen. There was no cover, no shelter—just barren, black rock. The path ended at a temple.
At least, I assumed it was a temple.
It’s not like there was a sign, but generally, if I come around a bend and see a gigantic monolithic cobra carved from black basalt—tail spilling down ancient steps and double doors leading into darkness—I assume it must be a temple.
To what, or rather, to whom though? I had no idea. Even if only eight true gods exist, Quur is the land of a thousand gods.* There had to be a snake god, but I didn’t know who that might be, just as I didn’t know what gods the Manol vané worshipped. Was Thaena associated with snakes? Not in Quur, but who knows how her worship was practiced outside its borders?
As I stood there, I heard drums, coming from the temple.
I shrugged. What the hell? If the cultists were distracted with religious services, it might be the opportunity I needed. I didn’t see any guards, but why would they have guards when there was no way for anyone to invade? Everyone was probably in the temple.
Yeah, all right. Fine. If you insist: I was curious.
Walking up to the same temple was a peculiar exercise in vulnerability. I saw no shelter to hide behind, no way to stick to shadows for a stealthy approach. The sound of my borrowed sandals slapped against the hard stone despite my efforts to muffle the noise. I resorted to slipping off the sandals and carrying them by the straps.
As I drew closer, the immense age of the temple became evident. The stonework crumbled at the edges. The blocks were cracked as if heated and cooled swiftly. The building was far larger than I’d initially imagined. I couldn’t shake the feeling that the building hovered on the edge of collapse, that at any moment those immense tons of stone would crumble forward …
I shuddered. Vané wouldn’t build something like this, would they? All this stone and heavy oppressive earth was nothing like Lady Miya’s ephemeral loveliness, or even Teraeth’s razor-quick shadows. This seemed … older.
Was that even possible?*
I slipped inside the broad doors without seeing another soul. The air inside was musky and dank, and despite the distance from the beach, it smelled of the ocean. There was an undercurrent of something sweet and rotting. The drums sounded louder now. I felt the vibration in the soles of my feet. After a few moments, my eyes adjusted enough to let me see in the darkness.
The snake theme continued inside the building. Stone serpents twined up pillars and formed the arches over doorways, carved in bas-relief. Even the cobbles underfoot were shaped like scales. The rock shone slick and oily with the watery dampness of the temple. There were statues too: stone women with asps for hair; hugely muscled, scaled men with hooded cobra heads; coiling pythons with human faces. They reminded me of stories Surdyeh used to tell when I was a child, and I suppressed a shiver. Monsters, every one of them.
At least these were just stone.
I followed the sound of the drums, more careful now, more certain I would soon run into the rest of the Black Brotherhood and not sure what would happen when I did. What do you say to the group of cultist assassins who rescued you from certain death? Hey, thanks, any of you mind telling me how to get back to the mainland?
The damp tunnel leading deeper into the temple opened, and I found myself standing in the back of a great hall. People filled the enormous room, their features hidden behind the same voluminous black robes Teraeth and Khaemezra had worn in Kishna-Farriga. I slid in quietly, letting years of training and my own inclinations muffle the sound of my steps.
The warm air seemed unnatural when compared to the coolness of the island outside. Vents in the floor released a steady flow of steam into the room, to mingle with the incense and the blood on the altar. That altar … I had to press my lips together to keep from gasping out loud.
Behind the altar stood a statue different in style from the surrounding architecture. The statue was almost as tall as the height of the room itself, so even from the back, she looked like she might stretch out a hand and touch me. Like everything else, she was carved in black stone, but here and only here could I see the delicate touches of vané craftsmanship. In each hand she held a snake, which reared back to adore or strike at her. I honestly couldn’t tell if she was caressing the snakes or strangling them. Gold leaf covered every inch of her stone gown. The goddess wore a pectoral and belt fashioned from skulls around her neck and hips. Roses crafted from iron decorated her hair and dress. The salt air had rusted them to the color of blood.
I swallowed nervously. I knew her. Who does not? She is Thaena.* She is the Pale Lady. She is the Queen of the Underworld. She is the Goddess of Death. Teraeth had said the Black Brotherhood served the Death Goddess, and here was the confirmation.
I scowled as I looked at her. I didn’t know what her part in all this was, but I suspected it was every bit as active as Taja’s. Then I shivered. Maybe I had called to her, and not the other way around. Maybe when I was on board The Misery, the first time—before Tyentso’s gaesh. Or maybe back in the Capital City when I’d invoked Thaena …
I ground my teeth together and refused to think about it.
The altar dais was not empty. Two men crouched over massive drums, pounding out the beat vibrating through every stone. Two familiar figures stood before the altar. Khaemezra wore a small mountain of embroidered black velvet, as if the heat were someone else’s problem. Teraeth stood beside his mother, the only person in the entire hall who wore a different hue. His breeches were dark green, shimmering with silvery highlights. Long strips of silk, greens and golds, shifted and flowed over his torso and trailed down his arms. I was too far away to see the details of the outfit, but even from that distance there was something wild and feral about it.
Khaemezra opened her arms wide, a mirror of Thaena’s gesture. The drumming stopped.