75: THE TEMPLE OF VILFAR
(Senera’s story)
The next morning, they ate a bland meal of bread and sausages, before Molas led them to the temple of Vilfar. They wouldn’t have needed the guide. The temple was the most ostentatious building in the entire city, the highest up, it was impossible to miss.
Gaining an audience with Vilfar proved to be a different matter. A line of petitioners ran out the door, down the main steps, and several blocks past the temple grounds. Every person in that line had the cold, hateful stare of someone with a grudge, a reason to nurse it, and an unwillingness to let go.
Xivan could’ve been standing in that line. Looking at the duchess’s expression as she traced the assembled crowd, Senera could tell the same thought had occurred to Xivan too. Her eyes narrowed, and her jaw flexed inside her mouth. Her hand strayed toward the pommel of her sword. Then the woman squared her shoulders and turned back toward the temple.
“Well,” she said. “How do we skip the line? That’s the question. I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel like waiting here for a month just to have Vilfar lie to my face and tell me she has no idea where Suless is.”
“You don’t really think Vilfar would—”
Xivan gave Talea a look.
Talea closed her mouth.
Senera fought not to smile. “I think we’ll do it the same way we’d get to the front of any other kind of line—we bribe the doorman.”
The temple of Vilfar’s interior repeated the theme established in Kishna-Farriga. True, it wasn’t buried in a pit in the ground and it was much more elaborate, catering to a far broader range of worshipper, but it had the same basics. A giant blood-covered statue presided over a vast array of offering bowls, priests, and the various animals who would be sacrificed to appease Vilfar’s apparent thirst for blood.
Senera ignored the normal priests. Her target was particular—the priest whose robes were finer, manner stiffer, and nose held higher, too important to talk to the common rabble.
He or she wouldn’t be the head priest, but they’d be someone who wanted to be the head priest. Someone with ambitions. Someone so interested in putting themselves into their goddess’s good graces that they were willing to take a risk. And even then, the who didn’t matter nearly as much as the where: within earshot of the goddess’s altar.
She found her mark and approached. “Would you be so kind as to inquire with your lady if she would have any interest in buying a Cornerstone?”
The priest blinked. He looked like a local, but if any local Doltari had ever been as pale as Senera—which she doubted—generations with Vilfar and the dark-skinned Marakori she’d brought with her had changed that. So he was fair-haired and tan and handsome enough if one liked that sort of thing.
“A what?” He seemed confused. “You’re selling part of a house?”
Senera resisted the strong urge to roll her eyes. “No,” Senera said gently. “A Cornerstone. One of the Eight Cornerstones. In particular, I’m talking about Warmonger, which is a hematite stone around so big and—”
The ground shook.
Senera heard screams and then the curious sound of many knees all hitting the ground at once. She looked back at Xivan and Talea. The three of them were the only people standing.
Vilfar’s statue pointed a single grisly finger in Senera’s direction. “Bring her to the private chambers.” The statue’s voice boomed and echoed loudly through the giant hall.
Rebel made a low growling sound, and Senera shushed her.
A priest stood and ran over to Senera, bowing. “If you’ll follow me?” Without waiting to see if they would, he walked into the inner sanctum. As they followed the priest, Senera felt the eyes of the entire temple on them, every single person watching them go.
The god-queen Vilfar’s private chambers were significantly less ghoulish than the blood-filled temple outside, but no less melodramatic. The red-and-black color scheme played backdrop to bronze statuary showing acts of vengeance in progress, whether slow torture or violent surprise murders. The goddess herself reclined on a velvet couch, eating from a silver platter.
Vilfar’s hair was glossy black, cut short and practical but with great precision. Her skin color was a lovely deep tan. Unexpectedly, her eyes were solid black. Senera found herself wondering if Vilfar might have originally been a member of House D’Lorus.
Vilfar didn’t rise from her couch. “Did I hear that correctly? Are you claiming to have a Cornerstone?”
Senera stepped forward. This next part might prove tricky. No matter that Xivan carried Urthaenriel, Vilfar was still a wizard savvy enough to have learned the map of godhood. She was nothing to be taken trivially.
“I do, Your Holiness,” replied Senera. She bowed her head low. “But first I must beg your forgiveness. You see, I’m not selling said Cornerstone, but I needed this audience. Goddesses are rarely in the practice of taking meetings with people they don’t know.”
Vilfar’s nostrils flared. “Indeed. But we are in the business of killing people who waste our time.”
Senera immediately liked her.
“We’re not doing that,” said Xivan. “I need your help.”
Vilfar turned her attention to Xivan for the first time. “Your body temperature is wrong. You can’t be alive, but my every sense…” She raised herself up a little from the couch. “I can’t tell anything else about you. Why is that?”1
“My name is Xivan Kaen,” replied Xivan, ignoring the question, “and I’m here to kill Suless.”
Senera sighed. She’d really just done that, hadn’t she?
Recognition swept over Vilfar’s expression. “And you thought to look for the goddess of betrayal … here?” She smiled to make sure none of them missed the joke; looking for the goddess of betrayal in the temple of the goddess of vengeance.
“Yes, because we know she’s here,” Senera said. “I do have a Cornerstone: the Name of All Things, which was given to me by my husband, Relos Var.”
This was a gamble. A gamble that Vilfar knew who Relos Var was. A gamble that Vilfar would respect the name enough to realize she shouldn’t murder them without risking his wrath. And the gamble that Vilfar would believe Senera was Relos Var’s wife, technically true even if it had never come close to being practiced in reality.2
But the way Vilfar’s eyes narrowed suggested one of those gambles had paid off. “And what has that bitch done this time?”
“She has my husband, my son, and my grandchild.” Xivan stood there with an expression to burn the heavens.
Vilfar, Goddess of Vengeance, didn’t look surprised.
During this discussion, Talea seemed to have decided she wasn’t needed. And so, Talea had gone over and spent the time distracting Rebel, mostly with belly rubs. With this announcement, however, Talea stood, took Rebel’s leash in hand, and went back over to Xivan. She placed a comforting hand on the older woman’s shoulder.
“I cannot…” Vilfar seemed to be trying to search for the right words. “She is here, but I would never give that hag shelter. Since you have the Name of All Things, you can verify that.”
“If you haven’t given her shelter, then you won’t mind handing her over.” Senera smiled and hoped this meant the job would be easy, almost over.
The apologetic look in Vilfar’s eyes killed that hope quickly.
“I haven’t given her shelter,” Vilfar clarified, “but someone else has.” The goddess paused. “I don’t suppose you were serious earlier when you said you were willing to sell Warmonger?”
Senera held out her hands. “It’s not mine to sell. But I doubt my husband ever would. Something about it being too dangerous to be allowed out in the world.”
“What does it do?” whispered Talea.
If Talea had asked the question of Senera, it was Vilfar who answered. “Oh, exactly what the name says. I suppose you might say population control. But if you ever want to start a war and make sure your people are absolutely behind it, there’s no better thing for it. Nemesan had the stone, and it took Quur and Kirpis combined over a hundred years to defeat him.”
“Oh.” Talea swallowed.
“Who’s given Suless shelter?” Xivan was focused on one thing only.
Vilfar scowled. “A new neighbor who’s settled in my lands. An unappreciated new neighbor. I would’ve thought Suless went to her death, but if you say she’s still alive, she must have found a way to placate him. That’s where you’ll find her. I’d help but”—the goddess shrugged—“I don’t like picking fights I can’t win. It’s bad for business.”
The three women looked at each other. Then Senera sighed. “And who is this intruder, that you can’t deal with them?”
Vilfar smiled. “Oh, he’s quite out of my league. It’s Baelosh.”
Senera groaned. Vilfar nodded sympathetically.
“Who’s Baelosh?” Talea asked.
“Baelosh,” Senera answered, “is a dragon.”
“That went rather well,” Talea said after they’d left with nothing but a map indicating Baelosh’s last known location.
They’d had to push a few people out of the way to leave the temple too. Word had spread the goddess herself had spoken to these three, so as soon as they left her chambers the women found themselves surrounded by hopefuls trying to speak with them, look at them, or just touch them. Senera had been forced to resort to some minor, harmless, but threatening-looking magics to convince the worshippers to go somewhere else for their divine blessings.
Senera gave her a look. “That’s only because you have no idea who Baelosh is.”
“We’ll deal with him,” Xivan replied. “We know she’s here. Soon we shall have her.” The irritation on her face suggested she wasn’t feeling the confidence she was preaching, however. “What can you tell us about Baelosh?”
Senera shooed a group of vagrants from their position against a carved rose sandstone wall. It seemed safer to have their backs up against something. A vendor on the corner sold sliced fruit dipped in spices and roasted meat wrapped in something that looked like sag. Senera’s stomach rumbled at the smell, but she ignored it for the moment.
Senera spread the map out on the stone floor with one hand. “So this is where we are now.” She traced a finger along the line on the map. “And this is the main road that leads west and ultimately heads to Kishna-Farriga.” She tapped the large red circle. “So somewhere in all of this is where we’ll find Baelosh.”
“I still don’t understand how we’re supposed to kill a dragon,” Talea said.
“We’re not here to kill him. We’re here to convince him to give up Suless.” Xivan looked over at Senera. “Right?”
“That’s the theory.” The wizard rubbed a finger against the bridge of her nose. “Baelosh is infamous. Admittedly, that’s mostly because of his encounter with the first emperor of Quur, but he deserves his reputation. He’s associated with jungle and wilderness. As if nature itself was a dragon. Areas where he nests tend to be lush, verdant regions. Probably why Vilfar hadn’t previously made a serious effort to drive him off.”
“Does he have any vulnerabilities?” Xivan asked.
Senera shrugged. “The obvious: fire.”
“Oh,” Talea said, “it’s a real shame Janel’s not here. She’s good at that.”
Senera snorted. Yes, Janel would be quite handy. Except Janel would be too busy trying to kill Senera first. They hadn’t parted on the best terms.3 “I strongly recommend against trying to fight him. The stories depict him as one of the saner dragons and thus capable of casting spells, he regurgitates this caustic—” She shook her head. “Basically, Baelosh will kill you, melt you, and then turn you into wonderfully useful fertilizer for all the plants he’ll grow from your corpse.”
“So how do we deal with him?” The determined look on Xivan’s face left little doubt walking away was not an option.
“Well, not by playing fair, that’s for certain.” Senera eyed the vendor’s selection of meat. Its provenance seemed uncertain. Rat? Probably. “Oh, I never thought I’d miss Yoran food.”
Talea nodded. “I miss Khorveshan food.”
Xivan patted her on the shoulder. “When this is all finished, we’ll go back there. You’ll be able to have anything you’d like.”
The look Talea gave Xivan in return was so adoring, Senera felt certain the woman had been taking lessons from Rebel.
“If we’re going to convince Baelosh to leave,” Senera said, “we’ll have to do something a little bit more significant than asking nicely.”
Xivan shifted on her feet. “I don’t suppose he cares for money?”
“Possibly? The main story about Baelosh involves his encounter with Emperor Simillion, who stole a necklace of star tears from the dragon’s hoard. From this, one might assume he actually does collect wealth, or at least jewels. But there are other stories where Baelosh seems to collect riddles or poetry…”
“That’s less than helpful,” Xivan said.
“I can ask the Name of All Things,” Senera admitted, “but one has to be careful about wording. It can’t tell us if Baelosh will accept metal or gems as a bribe, only if he has in the past. That isn’t necessarily an accurate predictor of future behavior.”
“Pity we can’t just ask someone who knows him,” Talea mourned.
“He’s Ompher and Galava’s son, but I somehow doubt either would be willing to help. And anyone else is thousands of years dead—” Senera let her statement fall away as she realized the obvious answer. “Right. The one who got away.”
“You’re in serious danger of starting to sound like a wizard,” Xivan warned. “Meaning, we speak the same language, yet I have no idea what you’re saying.”
“I’m talking about the person most famous for his interactions with Baelosh. We could just ask him.”
Talea and Xivan shared a look.
“Are you … still talking about Emperor Simillion?” Talea asked.
“Yes,” Senera admitted, “but you know him better as Thurvishar D’Lorus.”4