Her back hurt where she'd been kicked, and her bruised jaw made eating difficult. Her left ear seemed to ring a little, like a perfect bell that had been struck hard some time ago. She hoped that would not be permanent. By early afternoon, she was down to reciting a Tullamayne verse out loud, straining her memory to recall the blood-rousing third and fourth acts. With that accomplished to the best of her ability, she began translating it into Saalsi. Which proved actually quite interesting, and very challenging. “And by his fiery eye he did see, a vision beheld in glory gold…”
Glory? No such Saalsi term. “A vision beheld”…one beheld an abstract concept like glory? In Saalsi, it could be said in the literal, the figurative, the active and inactive, or if one were very clever, the dryly ironic or the highly suggestive. Choose the wrong one and serrin listeners would get the wrong idea entirely. But none of them really fit. How did one translate between the glorious passion of Tullamayne and civilised, sophisticated serrinim? Serrin, of course, did not bother trying-if they wished to understand such writings, they'd learn the entire language and read it in the original. But did that mean they truly understood it better that way? Errollyn didn't think so.
That over, and more exercises done, she was mentally and physically exhausted, and it was still only midafternoon. Any more of this, and she would scream. Evening brought dinner-a bowl of half-decent stew-and the relief of cool air. And a priest, after she had eaten, who threw her a robe and told her it was time for a bath.
He led her down the stairs and into the archbishop's chambers, which were empty and lit with candles They continued into a vast hallway with a vaulted ceiling and grand tapestries and paintings. Sasha could not help but look up as she walked-she'd never imagined to see the inside of the Porsada Temple. Not as a Nasi-Keth, and certainly not as a woman. The huge hallway was eerily quiet, save for the footsteps of their four guards. Had they emptied the hall lest anyone spy a woman in the temple? Or was it always this quiet?
Outside Sasha had only a moment to observe the spectacular night lights of Petrodor stretching far out around the harbour, before she was led down some stairs cut into the side of the cliff. The stairway was lit with lamps, steps smoothly hewn with the sharp-edged precision that seemed natural to sandstone. To the right and below, she could hear the ocean swell heaving. Only now did she realise exactly where she would be taking a bath. Probably the priesthood were scandalised enough at a woman in residence at the temple-the idea of her stripping off and bathing there was too much to contemplate. She was struck by a sudden image, as they descended, of a small army of priests hand-scrubbing the stones of the cell in her absence until their knuckles bled. She nearly laughed. Just as well for them it was not yet her time of the month.
After a long, switch-back descent, they reached a small cave, within which was a landing. Lamps lit the rocky ceiling to ghostly effect, as the swell roared in and climbed the landing's broad steps, and cast an ankle-depth of water across the flat flagstones.
“I'm bathing in there?” Sasha asked, as they paused on a ledge several steps above the awash flagstones. “That's salt water, I'll need a bath after my bath.”
“Salt water will do fine,” said the priest. His voice was thin and reedy within his hood, and she had yet to see his face. “There will be fresh water to wash your hair later, and soap. In case you are thinking of swimming to escape, there are permanent posts for holy guards just beyond the cave, one on the rocks to either side of the cave. They use crossbows extremely well. Should you miraculously be only wounded, and not killed outright, the swell is large tonight, as you can see. It should surely dash a wounded swimmer against the rocks.”
And many healthy ones, Sasha thought, watching the next surge come roaring through the cave, and rush up the barnacle-covered steps. What an amazing place. The ocean had mesmerised her ever since she'd first laid eyes upon it two months ago. It was strange, and fearsome, but she was Goeren-yai, and loved all things wild and beautiful. Surely there were ancient spirits here, deep in the depths.
The guards retreated from the cave, and the priest followed. They had not bound her arms, perhaps considering (correctly) that she was not as formidable as a man barehanded, and that her recent bruises would slow her even further. And there were four of them, all big, and armoured with shields. Even she wasn't quite that stupid.
Sasha pulled off her dress and underwear, and stepped onto the slippery flagstones. The water was cold on her feet, but in Lenayin, she'd swum in water far colder than this. The swell surges were not so strong on the far side of the cave, she saw, and splashed her way across the landing, observing the wooden posts driven into rock where small boats, on calmer seas, would tie up to allow passengers to disembark for the temple. And she wondered how many visitors the priesthood received, in the dead of night, direct from ships from foreign lands.
Bathing was a challenge, and several times she had to jump up the steps to avoid a pummelling swell. But, in between surges, the water stayed calm enough for her to get thoroughly wet. The chill seemed to help her bruises and she emerged feeling refreshed. Certainly, she thought as she splashed her way back to her clothes, it was much nicer down here than in her cell. Perhaps they'd let her stay a while longer. The waves made such an amazing, echoing roar as they came in, and the patterns of lantern light reflecting off the water, and dancing across the ceiling, were truly beautiful.
She was drying herself with the robe she'd been given when she sensed movement from the corner of her eye and spun. It was the priest. Sasha stared at him, warily, and continued drying herself. Her nudity was a weapon against men such as these. Damned if she'd try and hide it.
“I'm not dressed yet,” she stated the obvious. “Come down to observe your holy vows?”
“I've got something for you,” said the priest, and reached inside his robe.
Oh great, I bet you do, Sasha thought with exasperation. Another horny priest, as in all the Goeren-yai jokes. Well, she might struggle barehanded against four holy guards, but she was pretty sure she could handle this scrawny little idiot.
When he pulled out her sword in its scabbard instead, she was completely astonished.
“You can have it,” he continued, his face still hidden within the hood, “but you have to swear something first.”
Sasha stared at him. And realised that some clothes might actually be good, right about now. She pulled on the robe and tied the sash at the waist. “I'm not swearing anything. Who the hells are you?”
The priest pulled back his hood, and revealed the face of a small man, bald and bearded, with lively eyes now earnest and…anxious. The face of a man who was up to something. “My name's not important. What I'll do for you is very important. I'm going to help you escape. All you have to do is listen.”
Sasha nodded warily. Escape was good. Just keep him talking. “I'm listening.”
“My brothers are being murdered,” the small priest said. “The archbishop has taken sides-and his chosen side is that of Family Steiner. He is behind the murder of my brothers, I am sure of it. I expect I shall be the next victim, or close to it, so it's very important that you listen very closely.
“Something very big is coming. The archbishop and Patachi Steiner have made plans, I'm certain of it. Halmady were a threat, and I'm not entirely sure why-maybe they really were plotting against Family Steiner, it's possible, but I simply don't know. Now Halmady have been eliminated, and-”