Page 21 of The Eyes of Tamburah
He stared at her as if he was reading her very soul. There were flecks of gold in his umber-colored eyes. A strange, uncomfortable heat flowed through her. It had been a long time since anyone had peered at her as a person and not as a sun-kissed.
“Let me know if you need anything,” he said.
“Will do.”
Nodding, he walked away. She leaned on the wall. The hard stone reassured her that her world hadn’t just flipped upside down. Folding her cloak into a small bundle, she tucked it into her pack.
Shyla returned to the dining cavern. After she ate, she considered her next move. First she needed a place to sleep. There were rooms available for short-term leases—mostly for visitors, but they were down in the thirties. Too far. Her legs ached from her trip to level forty-three and back. And the cut on her temple throbbed, making it difficult for her to think straight.
If she had friends—Banqui! She could sleep in his rooms on level thirteen. Considering that getting enough sleep would help her think clearer, she figured he wouldn’t mind.
Four levels didn’t seem far until she started walking. Then her legs turned to stone, dragging on the rest of her body. Each step an effort. Dozens of angles passed before she arrived. Well…probably not dozens.
She was so focused on the door to Banqui’s rooms, she failed to notice the four people waiting in the shadows until they stepped into the weak druk light. Instantly on guard, Shyla brought her hands up to protect her face. But the four didn’t move closer. They waited with their hands tucked into the sleeves of their green robes. Hoods drawn over their heads kept their faces in shadow.
Deacons. She cursed under her breath and relaxed. “If you’re looking for Banqui, he’s a guest of the Water Prince.”
“The Heliacal Priestess would like to speak with you, Shyla Sun-kissed,” the deacon on the right said with a man’s voice.
Bad news for so many reasons. The fact that the Heliacal Priestess knew she existed was the biggest concern. “When?”
“Now.”
“But it’s—”
“Now.”
No one refused the Heliacal Priestess. And she wasn’t going to be the first, so Shyla agreed to go with them. Two led while the others followed behind her. As they descended through the levels, the ache in her legs turned into sharp shooting pains. Her calves stung. At one point in the thirties, she asked about a lift. No response. By level sixty, her hip bones and lower back burned. Shyla imagined by the time they reached the Heliacal Priestess on level ninety-six, her legs would be worn down to nubs. Soon the trip turned into an endless blur of misery.
Drier air was the first indication that they’d passed level eighty. Trol lanterns replaced the indigo light from the druks. Rugs covered the wider corridors. Stained glass doors and mosaic tiles decorated the throughways. All evidence of the very wealthy residents who lived here. Extra guards also patrolled the wide tunnels. The soldiers studied them, but didn’t question the deacons. The two factions avoided interacting if possible. Each had its own demesne. The prince provided water to the priestess and her holy army, while she supplied him and his guards with food. It was an almost perfect balance of power. Water was more vital, but eventually people needed to eat. There had been coups in other cities of Koraha, and, as long as it had been quick, the king had allowed it, but when it expanded into all-out war, he’d arrived with his battalions to stop it.
Deacons guarded the entrance to level ninety-six. It appeared that the Heliacal Priestess occupied the entire level—one level above the Water Prince’s. Shyla wondered if that annoyed the woman as much as the fact that the Water Prince refused to attend worship services.
Shyla was led into an austere waiting room. The lack of wealth seemed to be calculated rather than a personal preference. She doubted the rest of the rooms were so plain. Deacons stood to either side of the door both inside and out—a clear signal of the nature of this visit.
Hobbling over to one of the cushions, she sank into it with a grateful groan. As she rubbed her legs, Shyla avoided thinking about the return trip—or the possibility there wouldn’t be one. Rumors of the Heliacal Priestess’s temper and stories of those who failed to be properly pious spun through the city like sand devils. While she didn’t believe these anecdotes, she knew they all had a root of truth. The trick was finding that one true tendril among all the others. Normally, that would be an interesting challenge, but Shyla was far from her normal life at this point.
Without a sand clock, she lost track of time. Despite her nerves, the silence and warm dry air lulled Shyla into a light doze. When the Heliacal Priestess appeared, Shyla snapped awake. The woman wore a green robe styled similarly to the deacons’. While theirs were plain and woven from gamelu wool, hers was silk. The material pooled around her bare feet and orbs had been embroidered into the fabric with a bright gold thread. Bald and beautiful, with dark sapphire-colored eyes and angular features, her skin was almost black from all those angles she spent worshipping the Sun Goddess every sun jump. She wore only a single piece of jewelry, a platinum torque that ringed her neck.
The woman scowled as Shyla continued to stare. Finally remembering her manners, Shyla struggled to her feet. Her leg and back muscles screamed in protest, but she managed to stand. No need to anger the most powerful woman in Zirdai. She bowed in respect and waited.
“As you were,” the Heliacal Priestess said with such a smooth melodious voice that Shyla wondered if the woman sang.
Shyla straightened and met her gaze. Censure and derision greeted her. Not good.
“Where are The Eyes?” she demanded.
So much for small talk. At least the prince had eased into the accusation. “I don’t know.”
“You’re lying.” She gestured to her deacons. “Take her to the well of sinners and drown her.”
CHAPTER
5
Drown? Whatever that was, it didn’t sound good. The Heliacal Priestess’s deacons rushed her, grabbing her arms. Shyla clamped down on her instincts to break their hold—that would be the action of the guilty. Instead, she pulled her left arm forward enough to expose the Water Prince’s sigil. However it didn’t have the desired effect. The deacons failed to let go of her.
The Heliacal Priestess stared at the bracelet. “I see you managed to fool that young whelp. Not that it’s hard to do.” She crossed her arms. “Still, I can’t risk upsetting him.” Gesturing to the deacons, she said, “Release her. Pela, fetch our guest a glass of holy water.”
