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"And who is Mother Dayinye? I'm sorry, I'm not familiar with your path nor this city." I glanced around as we entered a dining hall. My guide motioned for me to sit at one of the tables and I took my place on a bench.
"Wait," he said before disappearing through an archway. A moment later, he returned with a goblet of wine and—whoa!—a goblet of blood. He knew what I was, all right.
I accepted the crystal flute, sniffing it carefully. Human—more or less, tinged with magic. Not wanting to seem rude, I took a tiny sip and almost swooned. The blood was like nectar on my tongue. In fact, for a moment, I could have sworn I was drinking a fine merlot or burgundy or a glass of Elfin elixir. Another sip and I tasted apple juice and honey and cinnamon.>Camille frowned, then nodded and let him lead her back toward the gate.
I stopped them. "Hold on. What did Iris ask us to bring home? Some kind of crystal?"
"An Aqualine crystal from the Wyvern Ocean," Camille said in a faint voice. "And be sure and tell them that Iris is a priestess of—"
"Of Undutar. I remember that much. Go work on your shields. I'll be back in an hour or so. If I'm not back in two, come find me." I glanced at my watch. Camille couldn't wear one, but I liked them. "Do these even work here?"
Morio held up his wrist. He had a gold watch—it looked like a Rolex—tucked under his sleeve. "Yep, I checked first thing. Let's see, it's eight-thirty now, Earthside time. If you're not back by eleven, we'll come looking for you."
I gave them a quick wave. "Stay out of trouble. And if you see that owl, try to find out what it wants."
As they returned to the garden, I headed into the street, wondering which way to go first. Arbitrarily making up my mind, I turned left. I had a fifty percent chance of being right, so why not go with the path that seemed to mirror my destiny?
As I strolled down the street, trying to act like I belonged, it occurred to me that not having magical abilities was—at times—a handy thing. Neither Morio nor Camille could handle the excess energy here until they shielded. I, on the other hand, could barely feel the massive waves of magic riding through the streets.
I looked around. Most everyone wore robes, and it was hard to gauge their natures or temperament within those darkened hoods. Finally I played the eeny-meeny game and my finger came to rest pointing toward one man in a golden kimono who leaned against a wall, smoking something that suspiciously looked like a cigarette. As I drew closer the pungent smell of wormwood and mugwort drifted to my nose and I grimaced. Mugwort was just plain nasty, and wormwood wasn't all that good for the brain cells.
"Hello," I said, approaching him. "I was wondering if you can answer a question for me—"
"Shush," he said, cutting me off. "Hold on. Hear that?" He cocked his head as if he were straining to catch a whisper.
I listened, deciding that direct and forceful just wasn't going to cut it in this city. After a moment, I began to catch a faint rhythm beating on the breeze; it sounded like a slow drum, trance-work music like Camille often used to deepen her trances and sweep her into an altered state.
"What is it?" I whispered after a moment.
"The Temple of Hycondis is having their ritual tonight. They're making a sacrifice."
Swallowing a hasty retort, I forced myself to keep my first impressions to myself. Back in Y'Elestrial, temples were restricted in what they could—and couldn't—do. Though most rituals were approved, any involving deliberate sacrifice were banned, though fanatical sects often went underground to perform their darker rites.
"Hycondis?" I asked, desperately hoping that whoever the god was, he wasn't part of the Temple of Reckoning.
"The lord of disease. His followers sacrifice dead bodies to him to cleanse and purify them to return to the Mother's womb." He sounded bored, like he was reciting from a textbook.
"You mean they're already dead by the time they're sacrificed?"
With a disgusted look, he rolled his eyes. "Of course they are. Unlike the sacrifices you make to your stomach, vampire. Now what do you want?" He tossed his herbal ciggie away and it disappeared in a flash of light, leaving no litter to clutter the streets. Handy, very handy.
"I'm looking for the Temple of Reckoning," I said.
"No doubt. I'm sure you have a great deal to atone for," he said, letting out a little snort. Oh, yeah, he thought he was clever. "You'll find the temple two blocks down, turn right, and walk another block and there you go."
I started to thank him but he turned away, ignoring me as if I didn't exist. I let the matter drop—no use picking a fight with someone just because he was rude, especially since I was a visitor here.
The streets began to empty as I headed down the road. I glanced at my watch. Eight-forty-five. Dinner time? If there was a curfew, the guards hadn't mentioned it. Whatever the reason, by the time it was nine P.M. our time, the streets were clear of all foot traffic. Now and then I heard something pass that sounded like a carriage, though I couldn't see a thing. The hairs on the back of my neck had been standing at attention since I entered Temple Row.
And then I was in front of the Temple of Reckoning. A set of huge scales, as big as the shed in our backyard, stood in front of the temple, carved in stone. I paused, staring up at the megalithic building. The doors were lit by a purple flame that encircled the archway, and as I stepped toward it, the flame flared, crackling brightly. The inscription over the arch read, "Enter within, those who seek atonement and justice."
Hoping sincerely that I wouldn't burst into flames, I pushed open one of the heavy doors and stepped through.
CHAPTER 13
As I passed through the fire, the distinct scent of charred soul hit me. Was this the end? The next moment my foot hit the floor and I was through the door, standing in the temple foyer, relatively unscathed. Hell, I felt like I'd been turned inside out and wrung out to dry, but when I gave myself the once over, everything seemed in place.
The temple resembled an ancient Egyptian ruin, without the rubble. Huge statues of a woman rose on either side of the tiled walkway, guarding the entrance to what appeared to be an enormous hall. The statues' arms stretched out to form an arch through which all supplicants had to pass.
