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The form doesn’t so much as twitch. I wince in understanding. “They mustn’t be fully animated yet.”
The daimon-man’s face falls. “We can’t do that awful magic ourselves.”
Alek speaks up quietly. “We’ll have to break the bodies so the daimon can go free. At least there won’t be a struggle.”
Rheave nods, but he still looks unsettled.
Stavros waves to us. “Come on, let’s do what we can for them and then blast the rest of this place to bits before the Order realizes we’re here.”
Tinom calls out from another doorway. “I’ve found at least a few of the sacrificial accomplices!”
As I hustle over to join him in helping the mutilated figures, the images of the vast room with its rows of bodies stick in my head. My skin turns clammy, and not just because of the dank atmosphere of the underground facility.
I’m surrounded by the beings the scourge sorcerers have used for their purposes—to expand their power and their reach.
It isn’t so different from how the gods apparently used the first riven, is it?
And the scourge sorcerers have called on their captured daimon again and again. They even managed to alter Rheave’s behavior briefly a few times in the past after he’d shaken off most of their influence.
How can I be sure no godlen will ever tap me again to use me for their own agenda?
Twenty-Five
Ivy
My uncertainties gnaw at me until a queasy sense of resolve forms in my gut. As we ride back toward the Temple of Tranquil Skies, my gaze shifts along the horizon, searching for a landmark I spotted on our journey to the clay factory.
We have to keep a slow pace with most of our number—which now includes the seven sacrificial accomplices we were able to rescue—piled into two wagons rather than on horseback. The sun has dipped to the horizon by the time I spot the crooked spire in the distance.
I nudge my horse forward to ride next to Stavros, knowing Rheave will keep pace. “That’s a temple of Kosmel. Alek mentioned it when we passed the first time.”
Stavros considers the distant building with its irregular architecture, presumably designed to echo the godlen of luck and trickery’s interest in aiding those who aren’t following the straightest paths in life.
His gaze slides back to me. “What are you thinking, Lady Thief?”
I adjust my grip on Toast’s reins, abruptly nervous even though I have no real reason to be. “I’d like to make a detour over there. On my own,” I add quickly when Rheave draws in a breath to speak. “There’s a matter I’d like to take up with the godlen who’s called on me.”
Both of my men pause in pensive silence. We haven’t broadcast Alek’s discovery about the riven to all of our allies for fear of how Tinom will respond, but the scholar informed the rest of my men not long after he revealed his findings to me.
Rheave makes a disgruntled sound. “I could come with you and stay out of the way once we get to the temple. It might not be safe for you to go off on your own.”
I shake my head. “I’ll be less noticeable than the bunch of you. No one will be looking for a single rider. You should stay together in case the scourge sorcerers come looking for us for revenge. I’ll meet you back at the Temple of Tranquil Skies—I might even make it there before you do.”
Stavros lets out a sigh but reaches across the space to bump his elbow against Rheave’s arm. “You’re going to have to learn that there’s no subduing our woman’s independent streak. And she has a point. You’re the most powerful protection we have other than her magic.”
The former general tips his head toward me with a fond smile and compassion smoldering in his gaze. “Go on and see what the trickster can tell you. I’d like to hear it too.”
I meet his eyes with a wave of affection. “Thank you.”
Tapping Toast’s sides, I send him cantering across the open plains toward the temple. It’s far enough away that after a time I have to draw him back to a brisk trot to avoid exhausting him.
By the time I reach the cluster of ramshackle homes around the temple, where I guess the devouts and maybe eager dedicats take their rest, evening has fully set in. Lanterns gleam against the darkness in the temple’s mismatched windows.
I tie Toast to one of the posts outside the temple. Kosmel is a patron of thieves, but I’m not especially worried about losing my mount.
Anyone who tries to make off with this cantankerous creature against his will is going to regret it.
Several crows perch on the crooked points of the roof. They let out a few hoarse caws at my arrival.
