At last, the boat nudged up against Banner Pier. Kesh scrambled out as soon as the boatman tied up the scow. From here, he could not see Leave-taking Pier. The Devourer told no secrets. Those on their way to worship were shielded from the sight of those departing, in the same manner that those departing could expect to skim home without being seen by every arriving pilgrim.
As Talker and Silent got the litter onto the pier, a bare-chested, dark-haired lad dressed in a novice's kilt walked up to Kesh. He was yawning as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.
"You're early." He grinned skittishly, as if he had just recalled that hierodules dedicated to the Merciless One cast no judgment and made no comment. He gave Keshad the once-over up and down, nodded genially to Talker and Silent as if they came here all the time either as bearers or supplicants, and finally looked over the featureless curtains that concealed the interior of the litter. "My old aunt spent five years as a Devouring girl before she married," he added, "and she used to say that no person comes concealed for any good purpose. 'Who is ashamed to be touched by the Devourer's lips'?"
"It's nothing to do with shame," said Kesh, a tide of heat and anger swelling over him. His head throbbed, and he wanted it all to be done with and him walking away with what he had come for.
"Eiya! No harm meant! Which house is yours?"
"I'm here to see the Hieros."
The lad's mouth formed a circle.
A raucous cry split the air. Keshad actually jumped because he was already so on edge, but the others only tipped back their heads as folk always did to mark a reeve passing over along the northern edge of the delta and circling in toward Olossi.
"Uncle Idan says there were more of them reeves back when he was a lad," said Talker. "Bad days, since that drought. It just goes to show that when folk don't keep order in their own houses, pretty soon the land begins to suffer. So the gods teach us."
"Bad luck on them who deserves it," muttered the lad under his breath, making the cross-fingers sign against ill fortune close against his body, as if he didn't want the others to see. He saw Kesh watching him, flushed, and turned his attention to the two bearers. "If you will wait in the outer court, I'd much appreciate it."
"I need the litter brought with me," said Kesh. "Then they can go and wait wherever you wish."
"Are you sure?"
"That I need the litter brought with me?"
"That you want an audience with the Hieros. No one ever asks for that. If you knew her, you'd know-" He flicked hair out of his eyes and sidestepped away. "No one in sight. Not a soul come so early, and there's none to leave."
"Damn all," said the boatman. "First come in the morning means a long wait, or a return trip made empty. My old arms!"
"Sorry, old man," said the lad. "It wasn't a lantern night, last night. You know the rules."
"I won't be long," said Kesh, "as I'm not here to worship the Devourer, just to conduct a bit of business. If you'll wait at Leave-taking Pier, I'll pay you passage back, same as came here."
The boatman grinned, showing brown teeth and gaps between. "Over there, then. Same number as coming. That's fair."
The lad hopped from one foot to the other. It was evident he wanted to ask what was going on, but novices did not ask about the business or predilections or desires or identities, if veiled, of pilgrims. It was against the rules.
"The Devourer eats secrets," he said at last, with a hopeful glance at Kesh, as if encouraging him to confide a pair or three of mysteries.
"I'm ready to go," said Kesh.
Unlit lanterns hung from the parallel ranks of posts that marked the path up to the outer court. To one side of the posts, the ground sloped down to the water's edge and a thin strand of pebble beach. To the other side, rockier ground had been manicured into a pleasing arrangement of rock, moss, and pruned miniature trees, these islands separated by raked sand. A big ginny lizard-one of the Devourer's acolytes, as they were called-perched on top of a rock, sunning itself. As they strode past, it cracked open its mouth just enough to show teeth.
A tall lattice fence grown thick with herboria and red and yellow falls of patience marked the beginning of the outer court. They passed through a gap in the lattice fence and walked toward the great gates between rows of benches. The outer court filled the wide space between the workshop wing and the long kitchen hall, which had a thatched roof but no walls. A dozen men and women chopped vegetables at tables, or sweated over hearths and grills. Halfway down to Tradesmen's Pier, a big rounded bread oven was being cleaned out. The smell of that fresh bread made Kesh's mouth water.
The lad beckoned them through the gates. "Heya!" he called to a pair of youths loitering in the shade. "Get down to the pier. You were already supposed to be there."
They walked into the Heart Garden, a square courtyard surrounded by blank walls. Three closed inner gates beckoned, one painted golden yellow and one the pale silver of moonlight. The third, opposite the bronze-colored outer court gates, was painted as white as the walls and in fact was rather difficult to discern against the white walls. The lad motioned to benches placed within pools of shade cast by a dozen vine-covered arbors and surrounded by beds of bright yellow-bells, blood roses, and blue and violet stardrops. This time of day it was quiet, and the scent of the flowers, particularly the glorious stardrops, was piquant and heady, like a drug. They sat in the shade and waited while the lad vanished through the white gates.
At intervals, Talker and Silent glanced at the litter. They knew its weight and balance, but they asked no questions. Kesh rubbed his hands as if washing them. He had never been as anxious in his life as he was at this threshold, not even when he had faced down Master Feden. A hush had fallen. Somewhere unseen, a door scraped open and slid shut. He jumped up when one of the white doors slid open. An elderly woman appeared. She beckoned.
"Bring the litter," he said.
The procession arrived at the white gate. The old woman was tiny, with chains of delicate dancer's bells circling her wrists and ankles. Her long hair was gone to silver and bound back into a braid brightened with moss-green ribbons.
"Set your burden down just inside and then return out here," she said to the bearers in a high, light voice. "We'll call you when you're needed." To Kesh she said nothing.
Past the white gate, a screen blocked their view of the courtyard beyond. Talker and Silent set down the litter, and as soon as they retreated the lad appeared; he closed the doors by going out after them, leaving Kesh alone with the old woman. She wore blue silk, and smelled of sweet ginger.
She moved away around the screen without looking back at him and with a remarkable and agile haste. He followed the chime of her bells into a court grown so lush with vines and hedges and carefully pruned trees that the scent of green watered growing things made the air almost too thick to breathe. Around every corner of the labyrinthine pathway a new and different tiny glade was revealed, soft and shadowed and usually ornamented by some cunning, tiny waterfall trickling along a sculpture shaped out of rock or pipewood. At length his steps led him to a graveled open space at the center. A fountain splashed, water caressing the flanks of a statue depicting a man and a woman in the grip of the Devourer.
"Crude, but it was placed here long before my tenure. I would never have chosen something so unsophisticated." The voice was low, harsh, and female.
He turned all the way around. He was alone, although the dense foliage offered a hundred hiding places.
"With what desire do you come to worship at the altar of the Merciless One?" the voice asked.