Touch of Iron (The Living Blade #1) (19 page)

“We?” Diaz raised one eyebrow. “
We
are taking you to the temple and to your brother. That’s what we are doing. And then Prince Bashan and I are going to find the Living Blade. And when we find it and the rightful emperor sits on the throne, the north will see peace again.”

“You really believe that?”

“I believe it.”

Nora raised an eyebrow. If they had been alone, she would have asked him for an explanation. But they weren’t. All those weeks of solitude on the Plains and now—

She shrugged and decided not to poke deeper. They were already attracting unwanted attention. He was being unbelievably ignorant about Prince Bashan’s character, about legends and mythical objects. But she was following him. So who was really being stupid? She pulled up her hood as he had and they walked the road in silence.

B
y dusk, Nora and Diaz
passed through the gates, entering the temple courtyards. The grounds of the temple were built like a stone island set in the wide and shallow bay of the Plains. The island’s summit was the actual Temple of the Wind, an airy palace filled with light, with spires and balconies overlooking the green sea below. It was easy to imagine white linen curtains billowing in the breeze in the sweltering summer, yet inside it would always be cool, the air filled with the sound of wind chimes made of seashells and exquisite wood, humming eerie music whenever the wind blew through. Now, in winter, the temple glittered like an icicle, sparkling in pure white.

In concentric rings around the base, cobblestone streets branched off the broad but steep causeway, which led ever upward before spooling out into a wide square at the foot of the temple itself, closed in by a round wooden gateway painted red. In the streets stood lime-washed stone houses with slated tile roofs, with balconies and gardens and alleys that shaped the lower courtyards into a labyrinth of passageways. Fountains and springs with statues of pilgrim masters and springs bubbled forth fresh, clean water into carved marble troughs, where Nora and Diaz stooped to drink. The water was hot but not scalding in Nora’s hand and it steamed in the cold like breath, a tribute to the god of air.

Nora had never seen so much stone. But the outer rings were in disrepair—crumbling, broken structures with saplings growing between the weeds and grass and cracks in the streets. One elder tree had taken over a forlorn square in one of the side streets. Now there was an elder grove breaking up the cobblestones, roots thick under the crumbling walls. Green lichen grew on the white stone, and the Temple of the Wind showed a twin face. The towering temple itself left Nora with the impression of a regal lady looking down resentfully on the dirty neighbor’s children, clutching at her faded skirts.

On the one hand, the streets along the temple’s outer walls housed the ghosts of former splendor, while newly arrived herds of sheep and cattle ruminated among overgrown pillars and statues. On the other, the rings closest to the temple were crowded with refugees as though the surrounding lands had been stripped bare of people. Every house there was cobbled together from the pillaged ruins of the outer rings, or by breaking through walls to join them together to sleep at least fifteen to twenty people. Makeshift stalls had been put up in the square. Women haggled, girls carried water, men hammered wooden boards across caved-in roofs, and washing lines hung full of clothes and sheets. The smell of garlic and freshly baked bread wafted down the causeway, making Nora’s stomach rumble. Children ran and shrieked in their wild games, and above all, the sounds of industry rang loud and clear.

No one paid the two worn travelers any attention until they reached the round red gates. Beyond that threshold the temple began. Here, as though the temple had chosen its own personification, an elderly woman stood in white robes whipping in the wind, her gray hair tied into two long braids, chains of silver dangling from her earlobes. Her stern face broke into a smile and she opened her arms when Diaz approached.

“Telen,” she said as he embraced her. “We have been waiting for your return. I kept a lookout on the road to spot you firsthand. It’s been a long time, my friend.”

“It’s good to be back, Talitha. You grow more beautiful every time.”

The woman blue eyes wrinkled in pleasure. Her laugh rang clear and high over the busy marketplace in the courtyard below.

“He is a courteous flatterer, this one.” The woman bent over to Nora and winked mischievously.

Nora smiled. A courteous flatterer was not what she would have called Diaz.

“I am Master Talitha of Cumi, pilgrim master and guardian of the Temple of the Wind.” The woman bowed, one hand to her heart. Nora bowed lower, just as was expected before age and wisdom. The master turned and gestured for them to follow her up the stairs. “You must be Noraya. I have heard much about you from your brother. He’s holed himself up in our library and has set it upon himself to read through every scrap of paper he can find there. Or so it would seem.”

“That sounds like Owen.”

A huge weight lifted from Nora’s heart and it skipped a few beats in an aching yearning as they walked up the stone staircase.

“Are the courtyards full?” Diaz asked Master Cumi with a frown.

“Most of the refugees from the surrounding countryside are in some of the courtyard houses. So much unrest all across the north since the emperor died! And I fear that after the fall of Moorfleet, more people will stream to this sanctuary.”

They climbed the stairs, the two masters in front, Nora behind them. It was a steep, narrow staircase with no railing. Nora stayed in the middle and hoped no one would come down while they were going up.

“But I dare say there’s room enough. Perhaps we could convene tomorrow, you and I, and Master Akela?” Master Cumi spoke to Diaz while climbing.

Master Cumi didn’t need to catch a breath and here Nora was, sweating already. She really hated heights. Really hated depths, too. And they weren’t even a quarter of the way up.

“Akela still hasn’t left for Lara’s embrace?” Diaz asked.

“He keeps on saying he’ll live to be ninety. I believe it.” Master Cumi smiled. “Prince Bashan told me you found Master Darren dead in the Shrine of Hin. This is bad news in itself, especially now, amid the chaos. Though it may also be good news. I do believe you are still the oldest master in the north.”

Nora looked at Diaz, who winced.

“Darren was murdered,” he said. “I will find the one behind his death and avenge him.”

“Of course. Well then, Akela is the next oldest. Though I doubt he will accept the position of oversight of the entire northern lands. That is something to discuss. I took the liberty of filling some of the empty sleeping chambers of the temple with the prince’s men. Though, if you do not approve, Master Diaz, I could still find some accommodation elsewhere.”

“The temple is yours, Talitha. I was merely surprised.” Diaz waved his hand, dismissing any objection.

He glanced back at Nora to see whether she was still following. They had reached a small platform overlooking the courtyard below. It was far down. Very far down. Nora wiped the sweat from her brow.

“How many flights of stairs are there?” she asked, glancing up.

“Seven,” Master Talitha said with a smile. “Everyone hates the stairs. But they are the best protection in case the outer wall and gate should fall.”

Nora looked back over her shoulder to the high wall and the heavy gates that were lifted by wheels and pulleys.

“Have they ever?”

“Many times,” Diaz answered. “Though not in a long while.”

“Let us hope it shall remain that way,” Master Cumi said.

“We ran into some trouble. Nora is wounded in the shoulder,” Diaz said as they climbed again. “Perhaps you could take a look later.”

Master Cumi stopped and looked at Nora.

“Really? Is it a fresh wound? Right or left?”

“The right shoulder. I was hit by an arrow three weeks ago.”

Three lifetimes ago, more like.

At the top of the everlong stairs was a smaller courtyard before the actual Temple of the Wind. It was a beautifully tended garden area even in winter, with bushes of sage and lavender with their silvery leaves next to laurel trees in darker shades of green. In the middle of the slender trees, a statue of a woman holding a long sword to the sky dominated the small space. Water surrounded the statue’s feet and pooled there before running into a stone basin leading into the temple itself.

“Scyld.” Master Talitha knelt down, reached over the water, and touched the statue’s bared foot. The toes had been sanded down by generations of people touching them as they walked past. “The founder of our order, and our guardian.”

Nora nodded at Scyld in greeting. “I guess that’s supposed to be the Living Blade.”

Talitha exchanged a glance with Diaz, who shrugged. She smiled at Nora, waving them onward into the temple. It was airy and light within due to the many windows arching around the walls. Nora groaned at the sight of more stairs. Leading up and down in winding spirals, this time.

“Our temple is on the very site she smote Tuil, Lord of the Wind, to the ground with the Blade. He fell and the ancient kingdom of Vella was buried underneath him. The earth swallowed them up, and the Crest Mountains were born. And out of a rib taken from Tuil’s side, Scyld fashioned the Temple of the Wind. To remind us that we must never again cower.”

“A rib, huh? That’s nice,” Nora said, tripping on a step. “I know who Tuil is. Patron saint of twins. Everyone always thought Owen was Tuil’s twin.”

Talitha’s sharp eyes flashed.

“Indeed. That would make you…?”

“The other one’s.”

“I see.” Master Cumi turned to Nora and Diaz in front of two large wooden doors. “Telen, I have arranged for your usual quarters to be cleaned and ready for you. I shall accompany Noraya to hers.”

Nora opened her mouth, but Diaz was faster.

“Noraya will be wanting to see her brother before she retires. I can show her to the library and to her sleeping quarters after.”

“Very well.”

Talitha clapped her hands together, and her silver bracelets dangled on her wrists like bells ringing out her departure. She gave Diaz directions to Nora’s room and then bowed.

“I shall see you in the evening. I must prepare dinner for over forty people, and I’m running short of ideas as it is. Ah, I know. It’ll be roasted something, like all the other evenings so far.”

She smiled one last time and vanished around a bend.

“I like her. Your friend. She’s nice.” Nora followed Diaz up the winding stairs. “So, let me guess—the library is on the top floor?”

“No, just the next level up.” He looked over his shoulder.

“Oh, good.”

“The sleeping quarters are on the top floor.”

Diaz gave her a lopsided smile as she grimaced.

“A joke. They’re far below us. Be of good cheer, Noraya. Down is always easier than up.”

Nora wheezed. A joke? Maybe there was some magic to this place to have Diaz remove the stick up his ass. Shocking! First he said he wasn’t all wight; now he wasn’t all jerk. Next thing he’d tell her, he wasn’t a proper master pilgrim. They took the next bend and the half-wight pointed at a wooden door carved with patterns resembling vines and flowers. Nora paused to catch her breath. She bent double, hands on her knees, strength nearly giving out. But not yet.

This was it. Journey’s end. Behind this door was her twin brother, firmly wedged into the place he loved best. A library. Among all the other geniuses of the past, their tomes whispering their thoughts to him even centuries after they had gone. Her heart was beating loudly in her ears. There would be no more danger, no more sudden jolts of nauseous leaping into action. No more cold and deprivation. And tonight she would sleep in an actual bed. In an actual room. In an actual building. And alone. Her half-wight heating system wouldn’t lie next to her. Diaz had his head cocked to the side, waiting. She stared across an ever-deepening abyss of awkward silence into those dark eyes, conjuring up the words within her. He had saved her life. And she’d never be able to repay him. And how did you put that into words exactly?

“I wanted to say…” she started. “That thing you did…”

He raised his eyebrows and waited, hand on the doorknob. She took a deep breath and pressed it all out in one go.

“I’m glad you came for me, Diaz. I wouldn’t be alive or here if you hadn’t.”

She looked up into his face, which hadn’t changed much in the last few seconds. Maybe the eyebrows had gone up a little higher.

“You’re still very welcome,” he said and pushed open the door.