Song of Ashes

45: An Old Friend

It had stormed all day in Deynaport. Perhaps owing to the gloomy weather, few worshipers had come to the temple. This had given Sarka far too much time to worry about what Tayo had revealed to her. If the holy book were truly in the Bone Palace in the Opal Realm, there was no way Sarka could hope to retrieve it herself.

Would Tayo agree to help her? Could his treachery to Kogoren extend that far?

And there was the other matter. It should not have surprised Sarka that, having offended Kogoren and brought down her wrath upon the Annari, she had offended the God of the Crescent, as well. She wondered how powerful a god this Jalea was.

What uneasy truce had Lord Atai struck to defend her, and why?

Sarka's lonely contemplation had been undisturbed. She spent part of the day tidying in the temple as Konn worked on Atai's God-Song in their living quarters. He poked his head out in the late afternoon to tell her he was going to his bed, complaining of a headache. Sarka had nothing left to do-there was nothing more to mend and nothing left to clean-so, reluctant to disturb Konn, she spent the rainy day wandering from one side of the temple to another, wracking her brain for next steps in her journey.

How would she get the God-Song? How?

Perhaps she would be forced to choose another way.

Night fell at last. Sarka had only lit a couple of candles to keep her company in the gloaming. Now, she went to blow them out, preparing to take herself to bed for what she knew would be a sleepless night.

As she drew breath to blow out the first candle, she heard a knock at the door. It was well past the time when petitioners would come. Her first thought-illogical, but immediate-was of danger.

Could it be one of the Beloved?

Could it be Lord Jalea?

Sarka shook the thoughts away. She knew that Tayo and the others could not cross the threshold. As for the God of the Crescent, he would not come seeking her in Atai's temple-would he? It was a supplicant, desperate for solace; it had to be. He or she would be disappointed to find the temple empty of any supernatural shoulders to cry on.

She took the wooden bar off of the door and opened it a crack, peeking out to see who was on the other side.

She shut it again at once. Bewildered, Sarka stared at the closed door, wondering if she had gone mad.

The man on the other side knocked again. "Let me in, woman!" he cried.

Sarka opened the door a second time. "What are you doing here?"

"Wonderful to see you too," said Ro. He stood shivering on the threshold He wore his ash-walker's scarf, but the rainfall was his only cloak.

The patter of the rain falling onto the cobbles outside was the only sound for a moment as Sarka grasped for a response. At last, she stepped aside. "It is. I mean, it is wonderful to see you, Ro."

Ro stepped inside. Sarka closed the door behind him, watching him shake his limbs and wipe the rain off his face with a weary brush of his palm. Then he looked at her, dripping onto the wooden floor. His smile was a flash of white in the gloom, his voice a sigh of relief. "I made it."

"How?"

"By boat, woman-what do you think? When I heard from the Annari that you had crossed the sea, I couldn't believe it. They said you'd made it all the way to Deynaport on The Crescent. I never expected...I thought you would die."

The blood drained from Sarka's face. "The Annari. You saw them?"

"One of their ships, aye. I was still holed up in Horn Harbor with my damned foot." He shook the foot he had wounded, displaying a new set of boots. "Better now, but it got ugly for a while. Couldn't strike out for home 'til it was healed. The Jewelwave came into harbor before I left. Their captain had met Etza in Maidenport and heard the tale off her. I'm lucky I was still there when they docked."