The Phoenix Unchained (21 page)

Nor would any who followed in his footsteps.

Six

The Temple at Sentarshadeen

A 
ND
THIS
IS the River Road into Sentarshadeen. We’re two miles outside the gates.” Simera stopped and indicated the milepost with a flourish.

“No bandits? No tigers? No wolves? No falling trees? No sudden blizzards? No unusually irritable rabbits? No—” Harrier seemed willing to go on listing possible dangers for quite some time. Tiercel reached out and swatted at him.

“Not even bad dreams,” he said with a sigh. And no Wildmages, either. Which was pretty unfair.

The Temple of the Light taught that the Wildmages kept the Balance and would
always
show up if there was a real need. And sometimes they showed up anyway, when there wasn’t a real need, to do things that were just nice, but not really vital. Or so he’d always heard. And certainly saving his life—back when he’d been a
baby—had been nice, and certainly his parents had appreciated it and so did he (or he would have if he’d been a little older) but he couldn’t really see how it was vital to the Great Balance. Unless it had been vital to the Great Balance for him to live to grow up so that he could get into trouble now. Which didn’t really make a lot of sense to Tiercel. He’d been thinking about that a lot, on his way to Sentarshadeen, and he couldn’t see how the Great Balance could have any use for an untrained (and untrainable) High Mage.

But even if it did, certainly it would want to stop things like what had happened at the Three Trees from happening again. Just because it hadn’t happened again
yet
didn’t make Tiercel think those kind of problems were over. Ever since that night he’d awakened in the forest from that dream he couldn’t remember, he’d had a sense of being . . . watched.

Neither Simera nor Harrier had noticed anything, of course, so after the first couple of times he’d brought it up, Tiercel had stopped saying anything. He already felt like a freak. And nothing had happened. Yet. Maybe that was why no Wildmage had showed up. Maybe one would be waiting for them in Sentarshadeen.

“So,” Simera asked, impatient with the byplay, “do we go on?”

Harrier looked at Tiercel. “Nothing’s happened since we left the Three Trees. Maybe that was . . . it.”

“Or maybe it’s just waiting until I fall asleep around a bunch of people again,” Tiercel said.

“Or maybe it was a coincidence,” Simera said. “The innkeeper there said they’d been having trouble in the forest long before you arrived. It could have been more of the same. Oh, don’t glare at me like that, Tyr Rolfort. You know it could.”

“Maybe,” Tiercel said reluctantly.

“What about this?” Simera proposed. “The Temple of the Light has a guest house. I know it’s horribly expensive, but you told me your father gave you a couple of Golden Suns for emergencies, and
I guess this would count as an emergency. If you aren’t safe at the Temple guest house, where
will
you be safe? And they’ll certainly know if there’s a Wildmage anywhere in Sentarshadeen, or if one is likely to be coming.”

“That makes sense,” Tiercel said reluctantly.

“Hot baths,” Harrier said yearningly. “Soft beds. And we can get everything washed. With
soap
.”

“And I’ll go to the Guildhouse and report the bandits,” Simera said. “And that . . . cold snap.”

That was, Tiercel supposed, one way of describing it.

His sense of being watched didn’t decrease as they entered Sentarshadeen. In fact, it increased. He knew that hundreds of years ago, this city had belonged to the Elves, but try as he might, he could see no sign of it now. His imagination painted the glittering golden towers of an Elven city, the roaming herds of unicorns, the vast and spectacular tracts of an ever-blooming Flower Forest, but what he saw instead were neat rows of shops and houses that didn’t look all that much different from Armethalieh. Just like at home, the city was built around a grand central park with spacious and extensive gardens, edged by the Law Courts and Magistrates’ Temple to one side, and the Libraries and the main Light Temple to the other. Tiercel was a little disappointed. He’d hoped for something more exotic.

“The Guildhouse is just up ahead,” Simera said, stopping along the edge of Temple Road. “Are you sure you can find your way from here?”

Harrier snorted derisively. “I can
see
the Light Temple from here, Simera. It will be hard to get lost in sight of it, but to please you, I suppose we can manage.”

Tiercel grinned to himself, though he was careful not to let either of them see it. Harrier’s early distrust of Simera was long-gone now, and he treated her with the same rough friendliness that he granted to Tiercel’s sisters.

The Centauress tossed her head. “If you do, I suppose you have wit enough to ask directions. At least Tiercel does. Well, I’ve gotten you here safely. That counts for something.”

“It does. Come to the Temple guest house for dinner tonight, too,” Harrier said impulsively. “We certainly owe you a good dinner after all this.”

Simera grinned at him, switching her long braided tail back and forth. “If you hadn’t offered, I was planning to invite myself. After traveling with you for so long, I certainly want to see how the story ends, you know!”

IF the Light Temple’s steward was surprised to find two scruffy boys seeking lodging rather than the rich merchants the guest house usually played host to, he was far too well-trained to betray the fact.

Tiercel paid in advance, even before being prompted, and the sight of the Golden Sun in his palm ended the last of the steward’s qualms. A young novice led them to a good plain room with an attached bath. Tiercel had specified that, though he had turned down the lavish suite they had first been shown, and even though Harrier secretly felt it was wastefully extravagant, he was just as happy not to have to trudge down the hall to a public bathing area.

“Let us know when you are ready to depart, young Goodsirs, and what services you require during your stay. You will receive a full accounting, and of course, any balance due you.”

“Thank you,” Tiercel said. “I’m afraid we have quite a lot of . . . laundry.”

“Simply ring for one of the lay servants,” the novice said, smiling. “There is also a full schedule of Temple services posted in your rooms—we observe the full ritual here, every day, and you will hear the bells for service. There are also four chapels for private devotions, and Preceptors are available for private counseling.”

“Thank you,” Tiercel said again.

“What about food?” Harrier asked.

“The Refectory serves at Second Dawn Bells, Noonday, and Evensong Bells, but bread, cheese, and cider are available all day, young Goodsir.”

“I’m sure that’s everything. Thank you for your time,” Tiercel said.

“It is part of my work. The Guesthouse funds the Temple,” the novice said, smiling. “If you need something that the servants cannot provide, ask for me. I am Brother Kelamen.” He bowed and departed, closing the door behind him.

“First dibs on the bath,” Harrier said instantly.

“Are you sure you don’t just want to go down to the Refectory?” Tiercel said. “Honestly, Har.”

“Well, you never know. They might think there were more important things than food. It’s better to be sure,” Harrier said, heading into the bathroom.

While Harrier bathed—and Tiercel had to admit he was looking forward to his own turn, because even if he didn’t
quite
stink, a fortnight or so of bathing in lakes and streams hadn’t left him feeling quite clean either—he sorted through their packs, pulling out the things that needed washing.

It turned out that everything did, pretty much. They’d saved one clean change of clothes each, knowing they’d need it for Sentarshadeen, but everything else was grey and grubby, and some of it was torn, too. He supposed the Guesthouse could do mending as well as washing. When he’d finished making a tidy pile, he went over to the writing desk in the corner and stared down at the pen and paper there. He supposed he should write a letter to his parents, and let them know that he’d gotten to Sentarshadeen safely. If he paid for fast post, it would be there in a few days. But what could he say? He’d never lied to his parents. Not really.

He supposed a letter could wait until he’d talked to the Wild-mage. He was sure there’d be one here.

“Your turn,” Harrier said, coming out wrapped in a large towel. “There’s plenty of hot water.”

“OKAY,” Harrier said, when they were both clean and dressed. “Now we go over to the Temple and find a Wildmage.”

Tiercel hesitated. “Why don’t you go on to the Refectory?” he said. “I’ll meet you there.”

Harrier studied him for a long moment. “Okay,” he finally said.

THE Temple of the Light smelled of incense and fresh flowers. It was a comforting smell, one that Tiercel had always liked. He’d come in in the middle of the Litany to the Light and took a seat in the back, letting the familiar words wash over him.

The Light Temple meant safety and comfort. Light-Day services sitting between his parents and his sisters. Light-Day dinners at home. His father never worked on Light-Day, no matter how busy he was during the rest of the sennight. Light-Day was for family, Lord Rolfort always said. For being grateful to the Light and the Flowering, to the Blessed Saint Idalia and Kellen the Poor Orphan Boy who had given them back the world and shown them how important Family was, to the Wildmages who made the whole world their family for the sake of the Great Balance.

They’d always been soothing words when his father said them. But not quite real. Not that it wasn’t true that Family was the most important thing, and that the Light taught that you must treat everyone you met as your own family, for the sake of Kellen the Poor Orphan Boy, who had none.

But until all of this happened, Tiercel had never really thought of Kellen and Idalia as real people, although he supposed they must
have been. He’d never thought of magic as being something that could barge into your life and take it over, whether you wanted it to or not. Right now, if he wanted to, he could set the Temple of the Light on fire. The thought frightened him.