Chapter Two

Sera trembled in the freezing darkness as she gazed up at the tiny opening above her. She couldn’t hear anything of what was happening, but she felt her friend’s tension.

Sera didn’t call out. She knew Ionia wanted her to be quiet. Something bad was occurring up in the Prayer Chamber, and the girl ached to know what it was, but she didn’t move. She couldn’t reach out with her mind—she was too dazed, too frightened.

Suddenly Sera’s vision swam, and a red haze flooded the air before her eyes. Sera gasped, covering them, and she fell to the ground.

Anguish filled her so drastically that Sera began to make her sobbing sounds. Something had happened to Ionia. She couldn’t see Ionia anymore. Where was she? Why had she vanished from Sera’s mind? She was always there!

Sera knew what it meant. It had happened before, with others. Like little Sillee, in the Healing Rooms. She had had the Water Fever, and the Sisters were unable to cure her. When Sillee slipped away from their world, she also disappeared from Sera’s mind. Just as Ionia did now.

Sera whimpered in her strange way, rubbing her face against the dirt in uncontrollable sorrow. “Ah. Ah. Ah. Ah!” she said over and over again.

Sera didn’t know how long she lay there, in the bottom of the dark tunnel. She only woke when she felt a hand on her arm. She jerked upright, and when she saw a man kneeling before her, she cried out again and scrambled back.

“I won’t hurt you,” the man said. Sera read his lips in confusion. She had never seen a man like this before. His hair was as long as hers… and his skin was so brown!

He sat patiently under her scrutiny. “Will you come up with me?” he asked after a time. Sera, though still frightened, shook her head. Ionia had told her to go to the mountains. She wanted her to leave.

The man seemed to understand. “Your friend has told me to tell you that she wants you to come with us. It would go better for you, she said.”

Sera didn’t fully understand what he was saying. Who was us? We? And where was Ionia?

She tried to ask him this with her hands, but he just stared at the movements in bafflement. Frustrated, Sera tried again. Something dawned in his expression.

“Can you speak?” he asked her. “At all?”

Sera drew back, not liking the question. She had been mocked before, when she had shown others her empty mouth, no tongue where there should be one. She didn’t know if this man realized that she couldn’t hear, either, but she would not tell him that.

“Just shake your head yes or no,” the man ordered, his face kind. Hesitating, Sera finally shook her head no.

He settled back, looking troubled. “We need to go up now, little one. Will you come willingly?”

Sera still didn’t quite understand, but she saw his kind expression, so she nodded. His mouth relaxed. She hadn’t even realized it had been tense.

“I need you to wrap my arms around my neck,” he said, grasping hold of a rope Sera hadn’t seen dangling from somewhere above. “And I will pull us up. Do you understand?”

Sera had never touched a man before. She blushed, not wanting to do it now. The Sisters were banished from any contact with men, unless it was in the Healing Rooms. And even then they weren’t allowed to utter one word to them—not that Sera could.

Again, the man seemed to know what she was thinking. “I promise I will not touch you. You need only have your hands around my neck for a few moments, until we reach the top.”

The small girl still hesitated; there was something sad and anxious in the man’s eyes that she did not like. But then she did shyly wrap her arms around his neck, trusting him. No person had yet purposefully done her harm in her short life, and she did not believe this man would now.

Sera missed the play of emotions crossing the man’s face as he pulled them back up to the Prayer Chambers.

Goshen Johiima was not a cruel Hilda. He experienced odd emotions for such a warrior. He pitied many of the people they slaughtered. He felt the prisoners’ pain when they were sold as slaves at the markets. And he especially did not enjoy this last task his people had been given: Find the Women of the Oracle and destroy them. He could see that they were a gentle group. They did no one any harm, and had great skill as healers.

But if the Emperor deemed them dangerous, the Hilda were left no choice but to follow his orders. They were indebted to the man for the rest of his life. And though Goshen hated the pitiless man they served, he prided himself for his unswerving loyalty.

The girl’s arms tightened around him as they neared the opening made from the alter. Goshen tried to ignore the deep pity he felt for her, and hoped that the others had already removed that girl’s body. Her strange glowing eyes struck something in him that hadn’t stirred since his last sister had been born…

“You found the other one,” Mashatt noted as Goshen stepped out of the hole. The girl was holding onto him with a painfully tight grip, and Goshen gently extracted her from him. He saw with relief that the body had been taken to another place… but there was blood on the stones.

“She was still at the mouth of the tunnel. She hadn’t even moved,” he told the other man, moving his body to shield the blood from the girl. Then, “Where’s Clamant?”

Mashatt was studying the girl with bright eyes. “She’s prettier than most. Perhaps Clamant will allow me to keep her—it’s time I took a wife.”

“No,” Goshen objected before thinking. Mashatt grinned, and Goshen could have kicked himself.

“Do you desire to keep her for yourself, my friend? I wonder what the fair Tisimli will have to say about that.”

Goshen looked at the girl. She was cowering by the alter, her wide, strange eyes darting back and forth between them. He sighed. Perhaps it was better that Mashatt claimed her for his; the girl would be either killed or sold as a slave—and neither would go well for her. And Mashatt was not an evil man. He was just overbearingly proud and brash. Perhaps the girl would help him settle down.

“No,” Goshen finally said to Mashatt. “I do not want her for myself.” He said nothing more. He decided to let the gods do with the girl what they willed.

“We’ve finished what we came to do,” Clamant announced, walking back into the shadowy Prayer Chambers. “Time to go. I’m hungry.”

He halted at the sight of the girl. A slow smile spread across his scarred face. “This the other one? Who found her? Goshen?” Goshen nodded.

“I was just telling Goshen about how I would like to take a wife,” Mashatt began. Clamant laughed.

“Oh no, you don’t. This girl will fetch a fair price as a temple sweet. Find one of our own women to take to your bed, Mashatt.”

Mashatt scowled. Suddenly the girl began making choking noises, and all three men turned to her. Her eyes were riveted on the floor, and Goshen realized that he’d moved from his place in front of the blood.

Her mouth was opening and closing in horror. “Ah? Ah?” she cried with tears streaming down her pale face. Goshen cursed and again stepped in front of the pool of blood. She covered her face and more strange noises poured forth from her mouth.

Clamant was frowning heavily. “What’s wrong with her? This—”

Goshen saw no hope for it. “She cannot speak. I think that what she does now is all she is capable of.”

The girl was now making those odd motions with her tiny hands again. Clamant drew back, snarling. “What is this, some kind of witchery?”

“No. I believe that it is the way she communicates.”

Mashatt appeared disgusted. “What a waste. Clamant, I will go and gather the mages, and we’ll wait atop for you.”

Their leader nodded, not taking his shrewd eyes off of the girl. When Mashatt had left the Chambers, he turned to Goshen. “The temples will not want such a girl. Neither will anyone else, for that matter. You know what to do. I’m going to see if there’s any food in this place.”

He turned his back and strode after Mashatt. Goshen stood there, staring at the door flap. A war was raging within him. The girl hadn’t stopped making her alarming sounds, and he finally looked at her. She was so pale, so small, so helpless.

Goshen knew he couldn’t kill her. “Do you have anywhere to go?” he asked her in a low voice.

Violet eyes wide, she shrank from him. Undoubtedly the sight of her friend’s blood had made her realize what kind of men they really were.

He faltered, and then reached into his pocket. “It’s not much, and you can’t use it outside of the Falconlands, but it’s all I have.” Goshen held out a bag of coins to her.

The girl now looked at him with confusion. She fluttered her hands again. Goshen shook his head. “I don’t understand,” he told her. “Just take this, and go back down the tunnel. I won’t tell anyone. But make sure you aren’t seen.”

She still did not take the bag. Goshen took her hand, and she jumped wildly. He tightened his grip when she tried to pull away, and put the coins in her palm. “We may return to search for things we want,” he warned her. “Do not come back here. The nearest city is Winged, across the line of mountains. On foot, it is a ten day journey. Use this money to rent a room after your crossing. If anyone speaks to you, ignore them. When you’re ready, continue on and go to wherever your family or friends are.”

The girl was shaking her head. Her mouth was forming a word, an O.

“No?” Goshen guessed. “You do not want to leave?”

She shook her head again, and continued to make the shape with her mouth. She touched her heart, and then his, and shook her head again.

Then he knew. “No family.”

She nodded. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I cannot help you. If you stay, Clamant will kill you. The best thing for you would be to go. Perhaps you can find a position in Winged. Some families there hire servants, instead of buying slaves.” Very few, though. Goshen wavered. Would it be better to just kill her, as he was ordered? He doubted she would even be able to make the crossing. Her hands were soft, indicating that she’d never worked a day in her short life. He debated on whether or not to take her back to the camp with him… but Mashatt was correct—Tisimli would not react pleasantly. She would see the girl’s presence as an insult.

The girl would have to make the crossing, Goshen decided. He’d never killed a woman in his life, and he could not bring himself to do it now. It felt dishonorable, striking down a human with no way to defend themselves.

“It would be best to travel at night, and sleep during the day,” he instructed her. “That—”

A shout sounded from down the corridor behind the tapestry. More Hildas were coming. Goshen took hold of the girl’s frail shoulders and turned her back towards the alter. When she stood on the edge of it, she looked up at him with fear.

“I am sorry about your friend,” he told her solemnly. “But you will be honoring her death if you survive this journey. Will you do that?”

If she understood his words, she gave no indication. He had no more time, and he silently pointed at the rope, not wanting to speak in case the men could hear him. The girl’s face brightened, and she nodded, bending down and taking the rope in hand.

“Go,” he ordered. “I will distract the men.”

Without another word or glance in the girl’s direction, he strode over to the tapestry, sweeping it up and ducking beneath it. He walked quickly down the shadowy hall, until he reached the men. There were three Hildas, and they stopped when they saw him.

Goshen grinned in greeting. “What brings you here, friends? This is my loot!”

One of the men, Bishoot, sneered. “This is all of our loot, friend. Why are you here? Mashatt is gathering everyone back above ground.”

“I should ask the same of you,” Goshen replied lightly. “But if you must wander down here, I would suggest turning back towards the supply rooms. Clamant requires help finding food. I’ve just finished checking these rooms behind me. There is no need to go further.”

Bishoot was looking at him suspiciously. “Your face holds a lie, my friend. I would like to see these rooms for myself.”

Goshen feigned nonchalance, shrugging. “If you insist. There is nothing worth seeing.” The three Hildas brushed past him, Bishoot in the lead. Goshen watched them, frowning, and decided to follow.

As they approached the tapestry, Goshen thought he heard the girl whimpering. They drew even closer to the Chambers, and his throat tightened. The three Hildas did not pause, but swept under and in.

Goshen listened carefully for any sounds of swords being drawn or cries of the girl. He heard neither. When he had entered the room, Goshen casually glanced toward the alters, as if merely admiring them. His muscles relaxed in relief.

The girl was gone.