Page 42 of Queen Demon
“Maybe, probably.” Ziede’s frown deepened. “Why do we care about their camp?”
“Because I think they have more prisoners.”
Five
Kai and Dahin found their way to the various ramps that led outward from the port, where the streets curved up the gentle hills. Kai’s veil got a few side glances but not as many as he had expected. Ancartre was almost as cosmopolitan as Benais-arik now; he saw people from the archipelagoes, the far south, the far north, every skin color and every sort of dress.
White stone walls lined the streets, and arched gateways led into the homes beyond. It wasn’t barren, there were tubs and troughs of greenery and flowers along most of the walls. Unlike the large open places at the harbor, the shopfronts they passed were narrow and set deep back into the walls, with only a counter at front for the proprietor to sit at. Very unlike Benais-arik, where if a seller had enough goods for space in a building rather than a market stall, it was always big enough for customers to come in and sit down among the wares.
Soon the street opened up to a large plaza dotted with tall spreading pines, with the domed Temple of Merciful Philosophy at the far end. It towered over its surroundings, standing even higher because it sat atop a series of terraces, each lined with more of the polished white stone. The cracked section missing from the dome looked worse from the ground. It had weathered like an old scar, a shocking wound in what was otherwise an elegantly proportioned structure. The heavy timbers shoring up the curved outside wall looked permanent.
Two- and three-story houses lined the plaza, rising above their courtyard walls, with large windows and vines climbing their white stone. There was no sign that the Rising World assemblywas nearby, which was good. Kai wanted to avoid it if possible and hopefully it would be somewhere else in the city, in a spot more convenient to Ancartre’s rebuilding process; maybe in the old complex of libraries and temples spread out to the west.
Dahin pivoted in place, frowning. “They don’t believe in street vendors here, do they,” he commented. “It doesn’t give us anyone to ask for directions.”
In an Arike city, this shaded plaza would be full of little carts selling food and drinks. There wasn’t even a fountain for drinking water or washing hands and feet or any of the other things people needed to do in the middle of a major city. “That’s inconvenient,” Kai said. He started toward the Temple of Merciful Philosophy. There were people gathered on its terraces, sitting and talking, or walking slowly along looking at the carvings on the steps. Most were dressed in the more formal Belith styles, in long gowns with sashes or stoles wrapped in layers. The bright colors of their clothing and facial tattoos contrasted wildly with all the white polished stone.
As they drew closer, Kai saw the terraces were just dirt, packed flat and hard from so many feet over the years. But when they reached the first, he realized the carved cubbies on the stone-lined steps weren’t decoration; they were little death shrines. Each would contain bones or ashes collected in a small container.
Some visitors were leaving offerings of flowers or trinkets. Kai stepped back off the terrace and paced alongside it. The Memorials could be for people who died in the Hierarch invasion and the fighting afterward, or those who died when the Rising World armies had come here after the Hierarchs. Kai didn’t want to know.
Dahin had wandered off a little and was politely asking someone for directions. Kai waited where he was.
Then a person who had been leaving offerings on the upper terrace left their group and approached him. They were older, with white hair wound up in a bun and wrinkles so deeply etched that Kai couldn’t read their tattoos. They came to the edge of theterrace, leaned on their walking cane, and said, in Belith-accented Old Imperial, “Are you here for the Memorial, Sister?”
“No, elder, we just arrived in the city and didn’t know it was here,” Kai answered, feeling like he was Kai-Enna again and being required to explain why he had wandered off instead of finishing his chores.
“It’s for the honored dead of the War, the people who tried to defend the Temple when the Hierarchs came to seize it,” the elder explained.
“I’ve heard of the Temple, elder,” Kai assured them. “It was for settling disputes and arbitration.”
“Yes!” the person looked pleased. “Where do you come from?”
“Benais-arik, elder.”
“Ah.” Their gaze turned worried. “They said the emperor of the Rising World was deposed.”
“He was. It’s fine, he agreed to it.” Under his veil, Kai couldn’t help smiling.
It must have been obvious from his voice, because the elder smiled back. “Ah, it was for the best, then.”
Dahin returned, hanging back several paces to avoid having to be polite again, signaling Kai impatiently. “I have to go, elder. Thank you for your instruction.”
The person lifted a hand in farewell and Kai joined Dahin, who hissed, “We don’t have time to chat with random mortals, the envoy houses are over this way.”
The Enalin ambassador’s house was in a more open area, the streets less formal and more meandering. All the buildings here looked new, probably built atop an area destroyed during the war. The Ambassador’s house had the white wall protecting it from the street, with tall pines looming above it. It seemed forbidding, except for the plaque that indicated that this was also a free hostel for any Enalin or other travelers who needed shelter.
Dahin tugged on the bell pull next to the gate. After only a few moments, it swung open.
An Enalin in a dark blue caftan and a Belith-style stole stood there. They had very dark skin as most Enalin did, and their dark hair was braided and held back by silver rings shaped like orchids. Their smile held polite inquiry, which was hiding curiosity; they had probably not expected to open the gate to a Lesser Blessed dressed as an Arike woman and a Witch. Using Old Imperial, they said, “Welcome, travelers. I am Etem, a Doorkeeper of the House of Nibet and Enalin in Ancartre. Do you seek shelter for the night, or…?”
Kai said in formal Nibetian, “I was told the Lord of a Hundred Coronels and the Light of Enalin was staying in this house. If that is true, please tell them that Kaiisteron Fourth Prince of the underearth is here with Dahin Stargard, and hopes to speak with them.”
Etem blinked, stared, and then managed, “The Tescai-lin will be told at once. Please accept our hospitality while I inform the Senior Doorkeeper.” They stepped aside and gestured for Kai and Dahin to enter.
It was a relief. If the Tescai-lin hadn’t been here after all, they could have gotten help from the Enalin ambassador, but it would have been more awkward and probably required more explanation. And the ambassador would have to inform Belith’s Rising World council.
The scene that met Kai after stepping under the gate’s arch was not what he had expected at all. He had assumed there would be a courtyard with a garden, conventional for Belith city houses, whether they were home to one family or several. Instead there was a bridge over a large stone well, that must have once been the lower level of a monumental building. The spreading pines grew out of the bottom of it somewhere, tall enough to shade the well and the rest of the open space, their long red trunks flakey with age. They must have been planted not long after the war. Etemexplained, “This was the prison the Hierarchs had built here during their occupation. After the war it was razed and given over to the people of Enalin for their use.”
