E06 - Ch 25: Pass

Sylvara trudged through the gates of Celindrin and found it exactly like the cesspit she remembered it to be. A small, ragged figure shuffled toward her not a dozen steps into the city.

"Spare an arca, High One?" The Mirebound boy's voice was polite and hopeful, a contrast to his bone-thin grimy appearance.

Given her own ragged appearance after fighting the demon and not a wink of sleep since then, she doubted he actually recognized her as an Ascendant and had only used the honorific to charm. She ignored the boy and kept on moving down the street. When he followed after her, she gave him a single look that sent him scampering down an alleyway.

The pain in her arm was like an incessant screaming child, and it had only gotten worse during the night of spell travel. She could barely move it now even with the aid of her veil. Her arcavoir still had plenty of reserves to spare, but her body was spent.

She walked through the streets surveying the crooked buildings and dark alleys and the overcrowded destitute citizenry with a growing scowl on her face. She was wrong. Celindrin was even more of a cesspit than she remembered. But even a cesspit had a Temple of Heleric.

It was situated near the center of the city, only an arm's reach from the magistrate's hall. The temple looked as if it belonged to another city entirely. Pristine limestone columns and walls looked as if they were somehow warded from the decay that infested the rest of the city. Smooth marble paved the steps and grounds. Clear glass windows were carved by intricate golden inlays. A triangular cut of pure arcana worth at least a million arca by Sylvara's estimate was inset into stone above the temple's grand entryway. She could hear it humming as she stepped into the temple's great courtyard.

Despite the poverty outside the temple’s walls, none would dare to steal the arcana jewel. To steal from an Ascendant was punishable by death by the Emporer’s executioner, but the justice brought to a theft from a conclave was theirs to oversee, and all knew that was a punishment no soul could withstand.

Inside, the temple was a sanctuary from the noise of the streets. The air was cool and fragrant with incense. Soft chants echoed from distant halls, blending with the gentle trickle of water from numerous fountains.

The doors to the main hall were open and beyond, Sylvara could see a magnificent twenty-foot golden statue of the sun god and another eyewatering jewel of arcana implanted in his raised right hand. His left hand was tucked behind his back in accordance with his image. The god's head was hairless but his face wore a thick beard. He was seated with his legs crossed, he was nude, bearing a body strong and sculpted. It made Sylvara think of Aelric.

Sweet Heleric, do I need to get laid, Sylvara thought. I'm lusting over a god's statue and a farm boy.

But first she needed to get her arm attended to.

Sylvara made her way to the corner of the courtyard and headed down a pillared limestone corridor lined with sculpted tapestries depicting moments of Heleric's most famous myths. Her fingers trailed along cool stone walls, each step measured and deliberate.

The corridor led to another open courtyard, this one with a pavilion at its center. A senior priestess in white robes looked up from a stone desk, her eyes immediately drawn to Sylvara's injured arm, bound tight by arcana.

Sylvara fished out her chained necklace that bore the crescent emblem of the Chandra. It not only marked her as one of her conclave, but a full arcanist. Like Heleric's hand, it was inset with arcana, the sliver of moon glowing bright blue.

"Arcanist," the woman said formally with a light bow "We welcome you to Celindrin—"

"It's a dump."

"—And the Temple of Heleric."

"Just get me a room, will you?"

The woman bowed again. "You will be charged in accordance with the bonded rates of your conclave."

"Fine." Then when the woman did not move to guide her, Sylvara said. "You want me to pay now?"

"If it pleases you, High One," the woman said.

Sylvara would have reached over and grabbed the woman by her robes and slugged her in the face if she had the arms available to pull off the maneuver.

She pressed her finger to the payment tablet of the woman's desk and pressed her arcana into, forming a solid cylinder of bright blue light.

"Good enough?"

The woman bowed again. "That shall be more than enough to cover your wound and stay and provide a generous donation to Lord Heleric."

"Yeah right, I want change."

✣ ✣ ✣

Sylvara lay in the hot waters of the bathing trench that was cut into the marble flooring of the room. She was thinking about the hunter, the demon, and the boy who had sworn to kill her.

She could still remember the way he had looked at her. Those bright, clear eyes that contrasted starkly with the venom that filled them.

Revenge, she thought. Enjoy that luxury while you still can, Brint.

So lost in her thoughts she was that she did not hear the priestess entering her chambers until she had closed the doors and called to her.

"Are you well, Arcanist?"

"About time," Sylvara said as she looked over to find a beautiful young woman in white robes that were simpler than the ones worn by the one who had taken her money. She had golden hair, this one, smooth auburn skin, and long-lashed eyes. Beauty too fine to not be marked by high arcumen. Not just a priestess then, an Ascendant acolyte of the Helera, the holy conclave which oversaw the temples of Heleric.

The acolyte approached, her attention on Sylvara's outstretched arm that she kept out of the water, resting on the raised rim of the bathing trench.

"What brutal marks," she said. "May I ask what caused such wounds?"

"Cat fight."

The young woman stared at Sylvara with astonishment, then she laughed, holding a hand to her mouth. "You tease me."

Sylvara cracked a grin. "Let's get on with it, shall we?"

The acolyte nodded. "Of course, you must be in a lot of pain. Would you like to be seated while I mend you, or would you prefer to stay in the bath?"

"Seated." Sylvara rose from the water and the acolyte held out a towel for her to dry her body with.

Sylvara noted the young woman staring at her body. "Sorry, but you aren't my type."

The young woman blinked, surprised. "I apologize," she said quickly. "It is not often for us to receive a high arcanist here."

Sylvara snorted.

"What brings you to Celindrin if I may ask?" the acolyte said as she helped Sylvara into the recessed chair, carefully placing her elbow on the armrest.

"Oh, you know, taking in the sights. Any taverns you'd recommend?"

The young woman chuckled again. "We are not allowed to attend such establishments."

"That's a pity, I guess that means you wouldn't be able to recommend a brothel where I won't catch something."

The young woman covered her mouth and shook her head. Then she held Sylvara's arm and incanted, "Iasis."

Soft rosy light surrounded her arm and Sylvara felt a warmth that began to ease the pain that ran from her shoulder to her fingertips. She stared at the pinkish glow of the spell and lusted for it as every arcanist did. But it would never be hers, not as long as the Conclave of Helera claimed ownership over its power.

"So strange these cuts," the young woman said as she studied Sylvara's arm. "They don't bear the markings of a cat nor any other beast I've seen. What kind of animal did this to you?"

"The ugly kind," Sylvara said, closing her eyes.

"Oh, you tease me again. Were you in a foreign land? I see you have kept this arm bound in arcana for a time."

Sylvara peeked at the acolyte before closing her eyes again. Her arm was already nearly healed. "Yeah… for a time."

Her hand shot out and caught the girl by the throat, and then Sylvara was on her, slamming her down against the marble and trapping her arms beneath the might of her thighs. The acolyte struggled to speak, but her windpipe was held closed in Sylvara's good hand. Her other arm was still not fully healed, but it was in fine enough condition to shape a spell.

"Kakris," she whispered and a bright orange dagger spun into existence above the acolyte's chest.

The acolyte's already wide eyes widened further.

"Tell me,” Sylvara said, grinning. “Have you heard the story of the nosy priestess who asked too many questions and was brutally murdered by the paranoid arcanist?"

The acolyte struggled against Sylvara’s strength, but she kept her locked to the floor.

"It goes like this: The paranoid arcanist asks the nosy priestess, 'Hey nosy priestess, who sent you to spy on me?' and the nosy priestess says, 'I don't know what you're talking about!' Then the paranoid arcanist stabs the nosy priestess in the chest. They both know the priestess can heal herself one stabbing, of course. That was just a warmup round for them both. So the paranoid arcanist tries again with a second round of questioning. 'Hey nosy priestess, who sent you to spy on me?' The nosy priestess replies, 'No one, I swear!' Now, in the story, the nosy priestess thinks that she'll only take one more stab, but that's where she's wrong. The paranoid arcanist is paranoid, remember? She thinks the nosy priestess is biding her time for someone to come save her. So the paranoid arcanist stabs her ten times, in the chest, in the stomach, in the throat, everywhere. The end."

The acolyte's eyes were filled with terror, and her face red, nearly out of breath.

"Are you ready?" Sylvara smiled wickedly down at her. "Now since you already know the story, we're going to start directly with the second round."

The dagger shot in and out of the priestess' chest once and blood began to spread across her white robes. The priestess shook and kicked, but Sylvara held her tight.

"Hey nosy priestess, who sent you to spy on me?"

Sylvara eased her grip and the young woman sucked in lungfuls of air as she coughed blood and phlegm from her mouth.

"The Mother is displeased with your failure!"

Sylvara felt her temperature drop. "What did you just say?" she snarled.

"You failed to bring the boy to the Mother! And now you attack a sister of the Nyx! She will hear of this!"

Sylvara pushed herself off the girl. "Failed? Try again. And you got stuck because you damned obvious questioning."

"Iasis!" The acolyte pressed her hands to her chest, healing the wound as she continued to cough mouthfuls of blood across the marble floor.

After she had caught her breath, the acolyte gave Sylvara a bloody smile. "The boy was supposed to come with you. Instead you arrive here, wounded and no Dawnmere in hand. You shall be punished when you return. I shall see to that."

Sylvara kicked the acolyte in the face. She hadn't meant to, she really wasn't supposed to attack a sister, but the girl deserved a foot in the teeth if anyone ever did.

"Listen here, you little gutterchick. I've done my job. I've found him. I've severed the bond. And now the boy is on his way to Elduros all on his own. So don't tell me what I have and haven't accomplished. And before you get too high off the stink of your own ass, remember that I'll be reporting to the Mother very soon. In person. Don't think I won't tell her of how easily you revealed yourself to me after a single touch of my blade."

Pure horror crossed the acolyte's bloodied face then. She knew there was no greater offense than to betray the mother, and it appeared she had not been given instructions to reveal herself. "No! Mercy, sister, I was wrong to have threatened you! Please!"

"Please what?"

"T-the Mother doesn't have to know of my mistake. Please don't tell her, I beg of you."

The acolyte dropped to her knees then and began kissing the toes of Sylvara's feet. It made her feel disgusted. She pulled her feet away, but she did not release her hold on the summoned dagger.

"Enough," Sylvara said. "Clean yourself up and get your story straight. Tell the Mother I will be with her soon and she will hear my full account. And you will tell her that I have succeeded. Do you hear?"

"Yes, of course," the acolyte said, bowing deeply again. "At least let me finish healing your wound."

Sylvara threw on her robes, her arm aching as she slid into the sleeves. "Pass. I don’t like stupid touching me. Afraid it might be catching."

Then she stepped out into the night.