“So. How on earth did you manage to get into the Temple?” Salvator asked. “I had to kill quite a few guards to do so myself, and I seem to have made a few enemies in the process. At least I managed to wrangle a few answers from those older gentlemen.”
“I surrendered,” Qhora said. “I surrendered to them, and they took me inside.”
Salvator snorted. “Well, that is just typical. A man has to fight his way inside, but a lady gets an armed escort.”
“They threatened to kill me.”
“Ah, well, there was much more equality there, then.”
The two walked to the end of the side street and joined the main stream of traffic on the broad avenue. Men and women padded by bearing baskets and crates, and rolling barrels in front of them. There were mule-drawn carts and ox-drawn wagons, men riding camels and women riding zebras, and even the occasional ostrich with a few cloth bundles on its back.
“It reminds me of home. A little.” Qhora nodded at a passing sivathera strutting past with a curtained carriage behind it. The huge beast snorted and bowed its long spotted neck toward a nearby horse.
“How unfortunate.” Salvator sniffed and winced. “I assume you did not find the Aegyptian or his sword.”
“No.”
The Italian stopped to survey the street with a squint in his eyes. “Well, my dear, it may be time to reassess our goals. I’ve learned what I came here to learn, and now I wish only to leave with my head still in place. We haven’t seen or heard a trace of our prey since we left Carthage. He may not even be in the city. Or he may have come here only to continue on to somewhere else. The only thing I know for certain is that the longer we stay, the more likely it becomes that we won’t live long enough to leave.”
Qhora nodded. “I know. And you’re right. We should go back to the rail yard and wait for Mirari, and then go home. Maybe when I return to Madrid I can hire someone to return here and find the Aegyptian for me. I have his name. I know where he lives. I suppose that will have to be enough for now.”
“More than enough.” Salvator resumed walking. He glanced up to their left. “I think your little friend has found you.”
“Mirari?” Qhora looked up just in time to see a clutter of wings and feathers and talons collide with her side. The nearby pedestrians stumbled back to avoid the harpy eagle as it flapped and shrieked, trying to balanced on the woman’s arm. Qhora grunted at the sudden weight of him, but she lifted her arm and allowed him to settle with his long talons locked around her bare skin. “Turi, you worthless thing. I suppose you spent the night gorging on fat city rats, or did you carry off a whole sheep to eat on some rooftop?”
Turi squawked and snapped his beak and blinked his huge golden eyes.
Qhora sighed and pressed on through the crowd with the Italian just behind her. She was only half certain that she was heading back to the rail yard, but she planned to wait a few more minutes before asking Salvator for directions.
“Dona Qhora!”
She turned to see a familiar masked face bobbing through the crowd, and then the rest of the Espani woman emerged, shouldering others aside roughly as she moved in a straight line across the street. And as she reached them, another figure emerged from her shadow. “Hello again,” Tycho said. “We’ve spent all night looking for you.”
“You’re both all right?” Qhora wrapped her arms around Mirari and squeezed her tight. “Thank the gods. And your God. How did you find me?”
“The bird,” she said.
“Ah.” Qhora smiled and stroked Turi’s head. “Good boy. You’re not so worthless after all.”
Tycho shook his head. “You scared me half to death last night, surrendering to them like that! I thought you’d gone mad.”
“It was a risk I was willing to take. But that’s all in the past now. What happened to you two last night?”
Mirari told her that they had followed her to the temple, then returned to the rail yard, and then returned to the Temple to wait and watch. “But my lady, I have news. We spoke with Captain Ohana. She knows of a way to free a soul from a seireiken!”
Qhora felt her heart seize in her chest. “But I thought that was impossible.”
“Apparently it’s not impossible. Just very difficult,” Tycho said.
“The captain said she was going to build a tool that could release the souls from the seireiken while we came to get you. If we bring her the sword, she might be able to free Don Lorenzo’s soul and let him find peace.” Mirari glanced at Salvator. “Did you have any luck finding the sword last night?”
“No. None.” The Italian shrugged. “I did have two very interesting conversations in between some lengthy sprints, and I nearly stole a seireiken for myself, but as you can see we managed to escape with only our lives and no other souvenirs. But that’s all in the past now, as your lady says. Dona Qhora was just telling me that it’s time for us to all be heading home.”
“No.” Qhora shook her head. “No, I’ve changed my mind. We’ve come this far. We’ve seen the one-eyed woman and the detective here in the city. And now we’ve learned how to free Enzo. We’ll stay at least one more day to learn where the Aegyptian is or went. Maybe we can find the detective again. He seemed reasonable, or at least more reasonable than the others. He might be willing to help us for a price.” Qhora turned and started back down the road toward the Temple. “We can ask people in the street. A one-eyed woman and a Mazigh gunslinger should be at least a little memorable, right Salvator?”
The Italian sighed.
Qhora glanced back once just to be sure the tall fencer was actually following her, and she noticed young Tycho shuffling along at the back of the group and falling behind. She paused to wait for him to come alongside her. “I’m sorry. You must be tired. We can go a little slower.”
“What?” He looked up and his worried frown vanished into a look of mild surprise. “Oh, no, I’m sorry, my mind was somewhere else. I’m fine. Don’t slow down on my account.” He quickened his pace.
“Were you thinking about Philo?” Qhora asked. “I’m sorry. I know how you feel. I’ve barely given myself an hour to think about Enzo. I…I think I just can’t right now. Maybe when we’re home, when I have my baby in my arms again, then I can stop and breathe and mourn.”
The dwarf touched her hand. “It’s a terrible thing, what’s happened to you. No one should ever have to see that, or feel that. I’m sorry for you, and for your son. But don’t be sorry for me. Philo lived a noble life, far longer than most. And he died in good health, with his wits about him, in service to our Lady and our city. But I wasn’t thinking about him just now. I was thinking about breakfast.” He grinned sheepishly.
“But…it’s been only half a day since…” Qhora frowned.
Spiro shrugged. “Death is a part of life, and I’ve been preparing myself for Philo’s death for years. And besides, that was yesterday. Today is a new day. Philo would want me to be working, to complete our task and all the tasks that will follow. So I need to find a seireiken for the Vlachian prince. And I would be honored to help you save your husband’s soul.” He smiled and bowed his head.
“Thank you.” Qhora focused on the road ahead.
Is it really so easy for him? Or is his bravado just an act for my benefit? Or maybe for his own benefit?
Their group turned the corner and looked down the next avenue where the towering Temple of Osiris loomed above all other buildings. Qhora was about to ask Fabris what sort of person they should question on the street when Mirari grabbed her and the Italian and pulled them close to the wall. “My lady, there is a small group leaving the Temple now. Ten warriors and an older man. They are coming this way.”
Qhora peeked out and quickly pulled back. “That’s Khai. The old one. He’s an important man in the temple. He’s the one they took me to, the one who said he would kill me. His seireiken has claimed so many souls that it burns white hot.”