Pug and Dominic bowed. Meecham waited to the rear, ignored, as was the custom. Pug said, “Greetings, Yagu. For two humble priests of Hantukama your presence is no interruption. Are you well?”
Yagu said, “Yes, I am well,” finishing off the formal greeting of strangers. Then he took on a lofty stance, crossing his arms and sticking his chest out. “What brings the priests of Hantukama to the house of my master?”
Pug said, “We travel from Seran to the City of the Plains. As we passed by, we saw this estate and hoped to beg a meal for poor missionaries. Is this possible?” Pug knew it was not Yagu’s prerogative to say, but he let the scrawny gardener play out the role of deciding.
The gardener stroked his chin for a moment. “It is permitted for you to beg, though I cannot say if you will be turned away or fed. Come, I will show you the kitchen.”
As they walked toward the house, Pug said, “May I inquire who lives in this wondrous abode?”
Showing pride in the reflected glory of his master, Yagu said, “This is the house of Netoha, called “He Who Rises Quickly.
Pug feigned ignorance, though he was pleased to know his former servant was still in possession of the estate. “Perhaps,” said Pug, “it would not be too offensive for humble priests to pay respects to so august a personage.”
Yagu frowned. His master was a busy man, but he also made time for such as these. He would not be pleased to find the gardener had presumed to fend them off, though they were little more than beggars, not being from a powerful sect, such as the servants of Chochocan or Juran. “I will ask. It may be my master will have a moment for you. If not, then perhaps a meal may be had.”
The gardener led them to a door Pug knew led into the kitchen area. The afternoon sun beat down upon them as the gardener disappeared inside. The house was a strange design of interconnecting buildings Pug had built nearly two years before. It had started something of a revolution in Tsurani architecture, but Pug doubted the trend had continued, given the Tsurani sensitivity to political fortune.
The door slid open and a woman stepped out, followed by Yagu. Pug bowed before she could get a look at his face. It was Almorella, a former slave Pug had freed, now wed to Netoha. She had been Katala’s closest friend.
Yagu said, “My mistress graciously agrees to speak with the priests of Hantukama.”
From his bowing position Pug said, “Are you well, mistress?”
Hearing his voice, Almorella gripped the doorframe as she fought for breath. When Pug straightened, she forced herself to breathe and said, “I . . . am well.” Her eyes widened and she began to speak his Tsurani name.
Pug shook his head. “I have met your honored husband. I hoped he might spare a moment for an old acquaintance.”
Almost inaudibly Almorella said, “My husband always has time for . . . old friends.”
She bade them enter and closed the door behind. Yagu stood outside a moment, perplexed at his mistress’s behavior. But as the door slid shut, he shrugged and returned to his beloved plants. Who could understand the rich?
Almorella led them quickly and silently through the kitchen. She struggled to maintain her composure, barely concealing her shaking hands as she brushed past three startled slaves. They never noticed their mistress’s agitated state, for their eyes were riveted on Meecham, the biggest barbarian slave they had ever seen, truly a giant among giants.
Reaching Pug’s former workroom, she slid aside the door and whispered, “I will get my husband.”
They entered and sat, Meecham awkwardly, upon plump cushions on the floor. Pug looked about the room and saw that little had changed. He felt a strange sense of being in two places at the same time, for he could almost imagine opening the door to find Katala and William outside in the garden. But he wore the saffron-colored robe of a priest of Hantukama, not the black of a Great One, and a terrible peril was possibly about to descend upon the two worlds with which his fate seemed forever intertwined. Since beginning the search for a return to Kelewan, a faint nagging had started at the back of Pug’s mind. He sensed that his unconscious mind was operating as it often did, working on a problem while his attention was elsewhere. Something about all that had occurred on Midkemia had a faintly familiar quality to it, and he knew the time was soon coming when he would intuit what that quality was.
The door slid open and a man entered, Almorella behind. She closed the door, while the man bowed low. “You honor my home, Great One.”
“Honors to your house, Netoha. Are you well?”
“I am well, Great One. How may I serve?”
“Sit, and tell me of the Empire.” Without hesitation, Netoha sat. “Does Ichindar still rule the Holy City?”
“The Light of Heaven still rules the Empire.”