David Dalglish - Dawn of Swords

Much to her chagrin, however, neither Connington was to be found. Tower Honor was a ghost town, with only cooks, servants, and whores lingering about. Not even Clovis, who never missed an opportunity to let everyone know how important he was, had shown up yet.

If the esteemed Highest Crestwell wasn’t in the palace, there was only one other place he could be.

Soleh left the castle and commandeered a horse and carriage from a jeweler who had been selling his wares in the courtyard. As payment, she tossed him what remained of Connington coins that she’d taken from the purses of the five criminals. Pulo slid in beside her in the front of the carriage; Jonn and Roddalin took the rear; and they set off without delay.

Pulo guided the cart without care for those before them, the horses’ hooves pounding away. The wagon bounded along the streets of Veldaren, heading west toward Karak’s Temple. She didn’t need to look at her escorts to know they were worried, much more worried than they’d been when confronting the gang. Their tension hung in the air like a poisonous mist.

The streets emptied out the farther west they traveled, the buildings and homesteads giving way to wide expanses of dirt where only a few abandoned tents and lean-tos stood. Vulfram had insisted that in time the whole city would become a sprawling paradise of brick and stone, but that had not yet come to fruition. The sight of the bare earth, where all the trees had been felled and grass refused to grow, was actually more depressing than the gray gloominess of the finished sections of the city.

Soleh had embarked on this trek at least a couple times a week since Karak had returned to her, constantly needing to be in his presence. The deity preferred to greet his subjects in the home he had built for himself, located in the far west of the city. The structure slowly appeared before her, rising above the brown ruinous soil like a shimmering diamond in a sea of coal.

It was an overwhelmingly simple construction, square at its base and tall, the thick stones of its walls stained black. The onyx lions guarding the entrance were mirrors of those outside the Castle of the Lion; in fact, they were exact copies carved by Ibis. The entrance to the temple was a huge door marked with three stars set in a triangular pattern-a symbol representing the cooperation between the three gods of the realm.

There was a white mare tied to a post in front of the temple. Soleh recognized it instantly, and her heart started racing. She had Pulo bring the carriage to a stop beside it.

“Stay here,” she told her entourage, knowing they wouldn’t mind remaining outside. Karak was beloved throughout the realm, but his forty-year disappearance had made him a mysterious figure for most of the populace. A small dose of fear to keep the people in line , Lanike Crestwell had told her, and Soleh readily agreed. It was too bad those words hadn’t proved true. Perhaps if Karak had made himself more available, the city would not have plummeted into this violence; perhaps it might in fact have retained the short-lived peace and harmony that had emerged just after his reappearance.…

She ran her hand along the smooth hairs covering Highest Crestwell’s horse on her way by. The mare whinnied and kicked its hind legs slightly. Soleh ignored the irritable beast, so much like its master, and climbed the steps, pulling open the tall temple door.

The inside of the temple was lush, filled with fineries donated from every corner of Neldar and beyond. In the antechamber alone there were stuffed carcasses of pelicans, cranes, and brightly colored kingfishers, pottery from the ruins of Kal’droth, potted plants as tall as grown men, and weapons that predated man by a thousand years, which had been given as gifts by the Quellan elves. The items had built up over Karak’s absence, as visiting the temple had become a pilgrimage for many of the deity’s children. It struck her as ironic that now that the god had returned, the temple saw far less traffic.

She walked through the antechamber and entered the monastery, where there were no more fineries to distract from the hall’s true purpose. Twenty rows of pews lined the floor, leading up to the altar at the rear of the chamber. On his return, the great statue of the deity had been removed. It was the true Karak who now sat on the altar steps, hands dangling between his knees as he listened to the confessions of Clovis Crestwell.

The god glanced up the moment her feet hit the polished stone floor. He didn’t move, only acknowledging her with a slight rising of a single eyebrow. Highest Crestwell kept his posture as well, kneeling in the front pew, head bowed, hands folded in prayer, his mouth whispering his wrongdoings so that they could be absolved by Karak. There must be many , she thought, but silenced that part of her brain. Soleh clasped her hands in front of her and slowed her pace. No matter what her problems were with the Highest, she needed to show respect to her god, especially in his own house.

By the time she reached the foot of the altar, Clovis had finished his confession. He slid from the pew and kissed Karak’s bare foot.

“You may go in peace now, my son,” the god said. Clovis bowed his head and shuffled away, nearly running into Soleh. The Highest didn’t acknowledge her presence, but she swore she saw a grin spread across his lips.

It wasn’t until the sound of the outer door closing echoed through the hall that Karak gestured for Soleh to sit.

“I would prefer to stand, my Lord,” she replied.

“As you wish,” said Karak, rising to his feet and turning to tend to the candles burning behind him. “Why are you here, my sweet Soleh? It has been many days since you last visited, and I have missed you.” Moving back toward her, he looked down at her closely. “Yet there is no peace in your heart as you look upon me. What troubles you?”

“So much more than I can handle, my Lord,” she said. “The whole of your kingdom is falling to pieces. You must help us.”

Karak faced her, his glowing eyes like portals into the heart of a sun.

“What is wrong with my kingdom, sweet Soleh? And why must I help you?”

She jabbed a thumb over her shoulder. “Clovis is ruining everything. It was difficult enough to keep the peace before, but your Highest ordered most of the good men of the Watch into the army that bears your name, leaving us shorthanded, and replaced them with hired thugs and cutthroats. There is no honor among them and little love for you. The castle dungeons are overflowing, as are the tombs. The merchants are fearful of selling their wares, for the thieves and delinquents the Watch had kept under control are now running unchecked. The new Watchers either can’t handle the situation or won’t.”

Karak sat once more on the edge of the altar and lifted his hands, palms up. “What would you have me do?”

“For one, you can order Clovis to return the men of the Watch to their posts!” she replied, her frustration robbing her of her better sense. She immediately reined herself in. “I apologize, my Lord. I meant no disrespect.”

“None is taken.”

“My point is this, my Lord…even before the Highest spirited our best guards away, the city was growing difficult to manage. Haven is a tiny community. Barely a thousand live there, of which perhaps half might be capable of mounting a resistance-much less than Clovis now has at his disposal. He has no need of so many soldiers!”

“Would you have me call them back?”

“Perhaps.” Soleh swallowed hard and continued hesitantly. She felt like she was tugging on the tail of a lion. “Or, perhaps you could show your face among the people once more. After you came back to me, there were five days of peace. Five days when wrongdoing all but halted. The people saw you, and they rejoiced! There was calm, there was brotherhood, there was harmony. But it seems now as if you have…”