“There never is,” the woman agreed. “Mr. Carnahan’s old habits die hard.”
“That’s how they get to be old habits,” Carnahan said. He slipped his boot under my sword’s blade, then kicked it up into the air. I reflexively caught it without breaking eye contact, a feat I was never able to manage again in my life. But at least the one time that I got it right, it counted. Carnahan’s eyes widened in surprise, but so slightly only I noticed.
I slipped the weapon back in its scabbard. “Thanks.”
“Come on, you two,” the woman said patiently.
“Yeah, don’t forget who’s paying you,” Cathy added, but I saw from her glance that she agreed this Carnahan bore watching.
“Sorry,” the big man said. “Guess that’s not very friendly.” He offered me his hand. His grip, even restrained for politeness, could twist off a crocodile’s head.
Cathy cleared her throat and he turned to her. “Cathy Dumont,” she said as she shook his hand. “Dumont Confidential Courier Service.”
“You’ve picked a fine day to visit,” the woman said. “We’re finishing up a celebration, and it’s almost time to open this year’s sacred wine. Why don’t we go down and relax a little.”
“Is Epona Gray celebrating?” Cathy asked.
The woman looked at her carefully for a long moment. “She surely is,” she answered enigmatically.
We followed them down the hill into the village. Giddy people milled about, watching us but not making a big deal of it. One little boy fell into step beside me; I noticed that he mimicked the way I walked.
“Get outta here, Randy,” Carnahan told the kid. His voice was gruff but not mean. The boy instantly ran off.
The woman led us to one of the larger common buildings. On the closed door was a white horse head symbol identical to the first marker we’d encountered. The woman stepped onto the small porch and opened the door, then stepped aside in a formal, practiced way for us to enter.
We both stopped. Cathy said, “Just so you know, we’re not planning to stay for church,” and glanced back at me. I saw the tense, suspicious look in her eyes, and wished Carnahan wasn’t directly behind me, blocking any quick retreat. But we had no real choice. I followed Cathy into the temple with every sense straining for danger.
SIXTEEN
Inside was a quaint little temple big enough for perhaps twenty people at a time. A huge white horse head silhouette in mosaic tile dominated the far wall, with a low altar before it. A cauldron, charred from much use, sat over a fire pit in the center of the room. Half-moon benches circled the cauldron. The woman closed the door from the outside, leaving us alone in the room with Carnahan.
Then another woman emerged from a side entrance carrying a fresh bundle of grain, oats by the look of it. She placed it on the altar then turned to us. She had long wavy hair streaked with gray, and wore several symbolic necklaces. “Hello,” she said. Her slight accent identified her as Ginstrian, from the far west.
“Epona Gray?” Cathy asked, all business.
The woman looked carefully at her, just as the other one had done on the hill. “If I am… what happens?”
“If you are, I give you a package, you make your mark on a receipt and we all go our merry way.”
“What sort of package?”
Cathy sighed impatiently. “Ma’am, I am tired, and frustrated, and really just want to be rid of this thing, okay?” She pulled the small box from her pocket. “This is it. I have no idea what it is, or even who sent it. I just got paid to put it in your hands.”
The woman reached for the box, but just as her fingertips touched it, Cathy yanked it back. “ If you’re Epona Gray,” she added.
The woman smiled contritely. “All right. I’m not Epona. I’m her assistant. My name is Nicole Ritter.”
“Assistant?” Cathy repeated disdainfully. She gestured at the temple. “Then is she the priestess here or something?”
“Something. She’s also very ill.” She said this as if the words didn’t quite convey the meaning.
“Then maybe we should get this to her quickly,” Cathy snapped as she returned the box to her pocket.
“I could sign for it,” Nicole said. “Epona wouldn’t mind.”
Cathy shook her head. “Sorry. From my hand to hers. That’s what I was paid for.”
“We could take it from you,” Carnahan said. There was no malice or threat in his voice, just a simple statement, and that made him scarier.
I turned to him and kept my voice just as neutral. “Might be harder than you think.”
“Mr. Carnahan, we’re not that way here,” Nicole said firmly. To Cathy she said, “I would really prefer not to take you to Epona right now, miss. Both for her sake and yours. But…” She bit her lip as she thought.
Then she stepped close and looked intently into Cathy’s eyes. Cathy tensed but didn’t move away, almost like the woman had instantly transfixed her to the spot.
“Do you know the goddess inside you?” Nicole asked, so softly I barely heard it. “Are you a spiritual woman?”
Like a contrite little girl Cathy said, “I don’t… ” The she blinked to break the moment. “I’m a busy woman,” she said in her normal voice. “If it’ll simplify things, we can leave my muscle-boy here. He gets in the way more than he helps, anyway.”
Nicole pondered this a moment, still looking Cathy over. “Very well,” she said at last. “I’ll take you. Give me a few minutes to change clothes. Mr. Carnahan, since you and this gentleman seem to have so much in common, why don’t you entertain him until we return?”
Carnahan looked at me like you would an ingrown toenail. But he said, “Sure.”
Nicole excused herself into a back room. Cathy put her hand on my arm and leaned close. “If it seems like I’ve been gone too long, don’t wait for an invitation. Come find me.”
“My plan exactly,” I replied quietly.
Cathy nodded, then said for Carnahan’s benefit, “Then go play with your new friend. But don’t get so drunk we can’t leave when I get back.”
I grinned at Carnahan. “Reckon I’m all yours.”
“Hmph,” the big man replied. With a last look at Cathy, I followed him out the door.
The sun had dropped out of sight behind the treetops, and torches now illuminated the paths and doorways. I smelled meat cooking and incense. A crowd gathered near the central well, and I heard music and dancing. Between two other buildings children too small to celebrate played and laughed, watched over by two hugely pregnant teenage girls.
“What’s the occasion?” I asked Carnahan.
“Ah, when their daughters turn five, they send them out to get trampled by the wild horses. But I’ve never seen it happen. The horses always miss, and the kid is therefore ‘blessed by the goddess Epona.’ ” His sarcasm was thick.
“Epona is a goddess? ” I asked.
“You betcha.” We reached a long, narrow building with a sign over the door proclaiming it Betty’s Place. “The great goddess Epona, who lives in the forest with her spirit birds and magical horses.” He snorted. “It’s a bunch of horse shit if you ask me. Somebody trains those animals not to run over people. And if Epona’s a goddess, then I’m the damn King of the Monkeys.”
The door opened just in time to catch his last words, and the same woman who’d led us to the temple smiled at us. “Your majesty,” she said with a mock curtsey.
“Oh, stop it. Betty, this is-?”
“Eddie,” I said, and bowed slightly. “Pleased to officially meet you.”
“Likewise.” To Carnahan she said, “You have a friend with manners, Stan. How’d that happen?”
“Nicole told me to entertain him,” the big man mumbled. “C’mon, let’s sit down.”
“Just pick a seat, I’ll be right with you,” Betty said, and I followed Carnahan to a corner table. The place wasn’t exactly a tavern or entirely a restaurant; parchment books lined the walls, and board games were available. Small candles on the tables kept the room dim and somehow mysterious. Three teenage girls talking in low, intense voices sat at the only other occupied table. Music filtered in from outside.