The Twice-Enchanted Blade: Part 4

There were five of them altogether, three women and two men. Their forms were slim and well-shaped, and they were dressed in what mostly resembled loose-fitting white togas, which, with the way the evening breeze was playing with them, left little to imagination. Pale-skinned, blue-eyed, and with platinum blonde hair, they did not look like typical desert-dwellers. On their faces, seemingly warm smiles were plastered, but there was something about them that seemed off. They looked remarkably similar to each other, and I had trouble telling them apart.

“Why do you sit out here, in the open, when our abode is but a stone’s throw away?” asked the woman standing in the middle of the group, “We are acolytes of Zanica, and it is our sacred duty to offer wary travelers hospitality and respite”.

Cults of Zanica, often under different names, existed throughout the world, sometimes under different names. She was a goddess of pleasure and hedonism, and her popularity tended to fluctuate depending on the local population’s tendency to moral outrage. They did tend to be a bit more respected than other similar organizations, since part of their creed included traveling to remote, ravaged, and dangerous locations for the purpose of bringing some levity to the lives of those dwelling in such places. As such, their presence here was not impossible, but we still weren’t convinced.

“We are thankful for your offer”, Spiridon answered diplomatically, looking at the alleged acolytes with barely concealed hostility, “but we must respectfully decline. We are too numerous to impose on your hospitality, and we are well-stocked with provisions, since we were unaware there was a friendly outpost anywhere on the way”.

“Oh, we are a bit of an open secret among the folks to the north.” The woman’s smile became wider, “Many trading and hunting trips get prolonged with a little visit to our temple. Everyone knows about us, but prefers not to talk about it”.

“You do not look like you’re from around here”, I found myself asking, anxious to poke a definite hole in their cover story. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did you end up here?”

“Oh, not at all. We are descendants of Al-Teinan slaves, released when the current Emir’s grandfather abolished the practice. Our ancestors were foreign pleasure slaves, and found themselves in need of a job, so they refurbished this abandoned old temple and dedicated it to Zanica”.

This all made some sort of sense. We were still suspicious, of course, but there was a non-trivial chance they were telling the truth, so we still had to act diplomatically. Nobody wanted to risk accidentally massacring a group of innocent, if debauched, acolytes because of a bout of paranoia. Brief awkward silence ensued before the head acolyte extended her invitation once again.

“I assure you, your numbers are not an issue”, she began before one of the other girls interjected, “The more the merrier!”, prompting the rest of her group to giggle. As the laughter died down, their leader continued, “You must have a hard journey ahead of you. Why not take a little break when you have the chance?”

“I thank you once again for your offer”, said Nixon, “But we really must refuse. We are used to frugal life, and I feel a taste of luxury at this moment would be bad for our morale in the long run”.

“That puts us in a conundrum”, a mischievous grin appeared on the head acolyte’s face, “since it is our sacred duty to help weary travellers rest and recuperate. But I’m sure we’ll manage to think of a compromise”.

With that, their group turned around and left for the temple. While they were away, we had a brief discussion on how to deal with the situation. The consensus was similar to my own conclusions; the acolytes’ story was judged to be possible but unlikely, so we couldn’t justify initiating any open hostility from our side despite our suspicions. We asked Fang whether he knew anything about the temple, but he and his men all hailed from villages deep in the desert and couldn’t tell if the story we were given was credible. So we made a huge pot of coffee to stave off sleep, and waited tensely for the alleged acolytes to make their move.

We didn’t have to wait particularly long. A sound of beating drums came from the direction of the temple, and a procession poured out of the cave. Dozens of men and women, some playing various instruments, some carrying trays of fruit and pastry, and others with jugs of wine, all with similar faces but with slightly different builds, men more or less muscular, women more or less voluptuous, but all looking like marble statues come to life. They were led by the same woman who acted as their spokesperson last time.

“Since you didn’t want to come to us, we had to come to you”, she said, a big smile on her face. “We will not pressure you into indulging in the full range of services we offer, it is your prerogative if you want to miss out after all, but we thought you might enjoy a bit of light refreshments and entertainment”.

The lieutenant attempted to protest again, but to no avail. From that moment on, any control we might have had of the situation was gone. Flutes, drums, and zithers were blaring a hypnotic, repetitive, disorienting tune. Censers full of burning incense suddenly appeared, emitting pungent smoke. Somebody demanded that they be put out and was promptly ignored. The acolytes started mingling among us, offering up fruit platters and wine, which we were trying our best to reject. We should have, in retrospect, firmly prevented them from doing this, but there must have been something in those incense burners that affected our minds adversely, and our unwillingness to strike first based on unproven suspicion gave the temple dwellers enough time to render us incapable of clear thought and capacity for decisive action.

The events of the night continued towards their climax, and there was nothing we could do about it.