Chapter Twenty-Three: The Order
In which Melik suggests they stay with a religious order, and Ian meets an enchanting young woman.
Melik frowned. “Why is this dagger so valuable?”
“It’s an heirloom,” Ian said. “Its value is unclear.”
Seamus stared at the ground. “It’s worth a ship.”
A pang of sympathy struck Ian. He put a hand on Seamus’ shoulder. “Tell me how you lost it.”
“I left the ship at dawn yesterday with the first shore crew. I was almost to the palace when I saw—” He stopped, bit off the words, and colored from chin to forehead.
Melik snorted a laugh. “A veil girl,” he said. “Thieves work with them. While men throw coins at her and she removes her veils, pickpockets work through the crowd and take purses.”
Ian looked at Seamus. “Is that what happened?”
Seamus nodded. “I didn’t have a purse, but when I started walking again, I realized the dagger was gone.”
Ian frowned. Why would someone take it? It was just a rusty blade to an untrained eye. Someone knew a blond Eiryan boy would have that blade. He turned back to Melik. “I think it’s time to speak with d’Tarjian and my friend. Seamus will accompany us.”
Melik inclined his head and turned to lead them toward the palace. He offered the basket of olives to Ian. “Hungry?”
Ian shook his head, but Seamus took a handful of the olives and wrapped them into a kerchief. Melik turned aside where a woman sat in a doorway with a begging cup. He put the basket of olives in her hand and spoke in a low tone, and she gave him a toothless smile and put her wrinkled hand on his forehead. He returned the touch and straightened.
“That was noble,” Ian said, hoping he kept the incredulity from his voice.
Melik shrugged. “No sense in wasting food.” He kept walking.
“Still, it was a gesture I didn’t expect from—” Ian bit off the words.
Melik laughed. “Sometimes, my old nurse’s voice rings in my head, and the only way to shut it off is to give to a beggar or help an old man with packages. I’ve done my best to corrupt those tendencies, but you can’t erase everything.”
They continued through the city to the palace, but just as they crested the hill, the gates started to close, and Melik pointed. “Our little detour cost us, my friend. We’ll have to wait till tomorrow.”
Ian stopped walking and sighed. He glanced back down the hill. “Back to the inn?”
Melik shook his head. “I have another idea.” He gestured to a smaller building near the palace. The gates were still open. “The virgins of Sai Atena. They serve the Great Kirok. Once each week, they open their gates to travelers. If we ask for shelter, and if they still have room, they’ll host us.”
Ian frowned. “We have sayas on Eirya, but I wasn’t aware of this custom.”
“It’s a holdover from the days of the old gods.” Melik shrugged. “It’s up to you, but if they will host us for the night, we’ll be near the palace first thing in the morning.”
Ian nodded. “Please, intercede for us.”
Melik approached the gates, and a young saya in white robes approached. “Saya,” Melik said with a slight inclination of the head. “Are you welcoming travelers tonight?”
The young woman folded her hands and bowed her head. “We are. The three of you? We have one room still available, if you will share.”
Ian stepped forward, and the girl turned her eyes to his. He sucked in his breath. Gods . . . She’s . . . He didn’t have the words for this girl’s beauty. He recovered his composure and bowed. “Saya, we’ll be happy to share.”
Her dark eyes passed over them. “This way, my lords.”
Melik laughed behind Ian’s back. “I introduced you to all manner of beautiful women all the way here, and you want a woman who’s sworn herself to the chaste god?”
Ian grimaced, thankful the girl couldn’t see his face. He’s right. You do this, you know—you’ve done it before—fallen for girls you can’t have. He shook his head. This isn’t falling for a girl. This is just admiring a beautiful woman.
The girl led them through the marble temple to an austere room appointed with several sleeping mats. She gestured them in. “You may have to share with other men, but for the moment, you have it to yourselves. Would you like a meal?”
“Aye,” Ian said. Too quickly, he realized right away. “I mean—a meal would be welcome.”
Melik snickered and lifted the girl’s hand. “A meal is welcome if delivered by your hands, my dear,” he said. “And if you will share it with us.”
Dark eyes twinkled, and she gave Melik a gaze of mock sternness. “The order frowns upon the sayas eating with men.”
“We need information,” Melik said. “Perhaps you might have some to offer?”
She tilted her head to one side, and Ian’s breath quickened at the sight of the smooth neck in the faint light. She had a round, dark face framed by coarse black curls, and her eyes were darker than any he’d seen in Espara. Neither thin nor plump, she had a graceful, athletic build; he could picture her in a silk gown as easily as in riding breeches. “Information,” she said in a low voice. “What kind of information?”
“There is a man in the palace—a Tal’Amuni man brought in from Kanisse Helene’s island,” Ian said, eager to insert himself into the conversation. “He’s a friend of mine.”
She nodded, slow, and straightened. “May I have your names?”
“I’m Ia—Ethan Cardig. This is my guard, Melik d’Nostrius, and my servant, Seamus.”
Her full, rosy lips curved into a smile. “I am Saya Ursula,” she said. “Please, make yourselves comfortable. I’ll return shortly with your meal.” She walked away.
Ian let out a long breath and watched her walk away with a proud gait he’d rarely seen in any woman besides his own sister. If she weren’t a saya, I’d take her back to Eirya this moment.
Melik laughed again and clapped a hand on Ian’s shoulder. “You know, not all of the sayas are as chaste as they claim,” he said.
Ian stared after Ursula. “She is. I can tell.”
Melik laughed and walked away.
But Ian remained in the doorway until the last thread of Ursula’s white robe disappeared around a corner.