Chapter 10: Loyal Servants of the Empire

Curses are blessings.

Blessings are curses.

Nothing but mouth and tail,

forced to crawl on its belly,

the serpent is said to be

the wisest of all god’s creatures.

As such, there is none

better at seduction.

- Book of Odim Kalodim, author unknown

~!@#$%^&*()_+ 10.2 +_)(*^%$#@!~

Derris made his way into the forest, trusting his ears that he might hear the cries of any wounded beast—but there was nothing so dumb or so desperate among the trees. The shadows of the woods were long in the early morning light and the undergrowth was heavy. He moved slowly, though he expected nothing more than a raven, or maybe a hawk—if he should find anything at all. He walked out several hundred yards, turned, walked a good twenty feet parallel to the wall, then doubled back so he might canvas a wider area. He decided if there was anything to find, he might as well find it.

And find it, he did. There was a dusting of feathers on the ground, mostly exploded—mere fragments. There were two feathers, nearly complete and rather big. Both were beige with a soft slow fade to red on one side, and a bright green stripe almost the width of his finger, with a thin black line on the other. Both tips were rudely broken and dappled in blood.

Meu rested under a lilac. She worried about the arrow in her wing, her pain and consternation loud in her head. She missed the slow step of the guard and his quiet manner, and he did not see her for all the leaves and flowers. He brushed the lilac aside, so he might see beyond, and almost stuck a finger in Meu’s sore eye.

Frightened by the sudden invasion, Meu struck the guard’s hand. She flushed the remainder of her venom into him, and hoped he was amiable to a conversation. If not, she’d have to try intimidation. There certainly wasn’t enough venom for out and out control.

Struck by the wyrm, Derris cursed as he stumbled away. “What the devil...?!” He pulled his sword and whirled around to face the hedge of clustered purple flowers anew. Now that he knew something hid among the lilac, he could see Meu’s camouflaged form coiled about the stalks. “Jeiju’s tits!” He swore as he realized the size of her.

Jeiju? Meu spoke in his mind. You are not a Trohl.

Derris stared at the creature. Did it speak to him? “I am not a Trohl,” he admitted. “I worship the true gods, Ooroiyuo and Naharahna.”

Meu grinned, Yes, the true gods.

Her language was strange, yet Derris understood it. “How...?” He began.

Are you the one that shot me? Meu interrupted. There was something menacing about the way she said it. She rose to the top of the lilac and showed herself. Glory, she was massive! Her wings were as wide as a condor! Meu nudged the arrow with her snout as it hung among the feathers of her right wing.

Derris frowned to see it. “Non, beast,” he began in a soft tone. “I am sent to find you and take your corpse back to the one that did it,” he admitted. Despite his harsh words, he did not approach, or raise his weapon. Indeed, he could barely speak. The words came so easily only because he need do nothing more than think them!

Her candor matched his. Will you do it? Will you kill me and deliver my body for a trophy?

Derris frowned. “I should think it is you that kills me. Am I poisoned? Do I die already?”

You are poisoned, Meu told him, but you will not die. I do apologize. It is the venom that allows us to think to each other. Painful, I admit, but oh so convenient among thinking beings. Please, let there be peace between us.

“Peace,” Derris agreed and leaned toward Meu in hopes to getting a better look at her. “Are you chimera?”

Non, she chuckled. I am a wyrm, though some have called me wind serpent or basilisk. And what do you know of chimera?

“Only that they possess great magics,” Derris noted. “And since you are magic...” he shrugged.

Aren’t we all?

Derris snorted. “I should think I am not as magic as you.”

It is difficult for one to see his own magics when they are hard won with work. Meu winked.

Derris frowned. “Hard work cannot give me venom that lets me talk to others.”

That is true, Meu agreed. But I was born to this figure. Do you not see your own advantages? You have hands for holding and writing.

“And you have wings,” Derris said.

One which has an arrow in it, she complained.

“I am sorry he shot you,” Derris noted. “Petaerus should not have done such a thing. He has very poor manners.”

I thank you for your sympathy, Meu replied. Despite the look of it, I do believe it is a minor concern. I have lost little more than a bit of blood and perhaps some pride. Besides, it has given me the opportunity of meeting you. Indeed, I am quite happy that you found me and not some other. I imagine it should not be so cordial between me and some of your brothers.

“I am not very good at soldiering,” Derris answered with a frown.

Indeed, you are too frank and friendly. I should think there are better uses for a man like you, the wyrm said.

“For one of my birth, there is nothing greater than to be a soldier,” Derris replied. He hanged his head in shame. “Your venom is cruel. I suspect none can lie with it in their veins.”

The wyrm chuckled. Most men lie to themselves. Indeed, lies come all too quick to the mind and tongue. It is the truth they cannot speak, she mused. But you are not such a man. No. Instead, you have sussed a great secret of the venom—it will have your truth—even if you know nothing but lies. You must believe it to speak it.

Derris considered her words. “Can’t one lie by omission?”

We all lie by omission. There is no way to include it all, Meu replied. Shall we be friends, that I might ask you a favor?

“There is peace,” Derris noted. “It is a small step to being friends. What might I do for you, wyrm?”

Will you break this arrow and take it from my wing?

Derris gulped. To approach the creature was to take chances. He wanted to trust her. She seemed sincere in her apology. But there was a dark fringe at the edge of her mind that seemed a torrent of rage and hatred. Could she be trusted, or did she hide a part of herself? Was she as honest as she claimed she had to be? Was she simply mad at being shot? First, you must find a good bit of dirt under the leaves below this bush, and when the blood comes, you must be ready to press it on my wound. Meu told him. Both sides.

Derris got down on his knees and scraped under the lilac. He gathered several handfuls of dark earth and made a neat pile. Meu crawled out of the lilac, slow and sure. Derris raised his hands to he examine the injury.

Gentle... the creature cautioned as Derris moved close. She lowered her wing.

Derris broke the fletching from the shaft, then slid the arrow through. “Sorry,” He apologized, as she quivered from the violation. Meu trembled and sighed as the arrow slid free. Derris stuffed the pieces of the arrow into his pocket. Then leaned over and picked up a handful of dirt. He pressed the virgin earth on both sides of the wound, then brushed away the excess.

Meu flexed her wing, then curled it to her side. I thank you, she breathed with relief.

“You are most welcome,” Derris gave a bow.

Son of Odim, what is your name? Meu asked.

“I am Derris, guard of the Empress’ Own,” he replied. “Who is this Odim?”

You do not know the great book? Meu asked.

“I know several books, but this Odim is not among them,” he shrugged.

It is a Tallian legend. The Odim Kalodim was the first, the last, the every. He is the abstract from which the specific is stamped. All men are his sons and women his daughters, Meu stated. I thank you, Derris, of the Empress’ Own. It is no wonder she keeps you for herself.

Derris wondered that this creature did not know all the armies of Minist were called the Empress’ Own. Derris thought to correct her but decided to let the point slide. There was something else he wished to address instead. “You speak in my mind, and you are kind and considerate...”

Thank you, Meu noted as he paused.

Derris gave a slow nod and a nervous smile, then took a step back. “There is a vulgar darkness about your thoughts,” he noted. “Why is this?” He realized if she was devious, this might provoke a strike. He thought he might yet return to camp with a trophy for Petaerus.

Ah, that, the creature snickered. Are you sure you wish to know? she asked. There is no remedy for knowledge.

“I would know. It will tell me if you are more angel or devil,” Derris stated, though he did not mean to reveal the second part—it was simply too easy to speak to her!

That it may, she agreed. I have bit another. His mind is still linked to my own. Do you know this man? The wyrm opened the thoughts of Fedring to Derris.

Pain, rage, and obscenity crashed upon the guard’s mind. The dark memories of Fedring flooded and staggered him. Derris gasped, shocked that the Corpus Majoris should harbor such vile proclivities and take part in such twisted machinations. Indeed, if the wyrm could be trusted, Fedring fed on the fears of men, the tears of women, and the blood of children! Was he not a holy man? A man of the Twin Gods? A Sacred Protector of the Throne? But Derris saw how the Majoris reveled in his atrocious acts. Worse than that, he saw through Fedring’s eyes an entire society of such corrupt and scandalous individuals of all stripes and manner.

Derris leaned heavily on the trunk of a tree against this revolting onslaught. The illusion of his very world crashed about him in fantastic fashion. He’d always had his doubts about some of those with badges of authority, but never suspected the ruling elite were so nefarious, so bloodthirsty, and so numerous!

The dark thoughts of the Baradha subsided. I am sorry. I do not mean to pain you, the wyrm stated. Secretly, she felt the revelations might do him no end of good—but for now they’d only bring him pain. I must go, she told him. I have been up too late and need a good rest. I bid you farewell, Derris, of the Empress’ Own. If your Gods shall have it, I pray we cross paths again.

“Wait!” Derris yelled after her. “What do I call yo, or shall I call you only beast?!” I am no mere beast, she pointed out. Call me Meu.

As the wyrm crept away, Derris sat on the forest floor and watched her fade from view. Conflicted, he considered the hate and cruelty of Fedring. Although he may have refused to look at it head on, the general corruption of the ruling elite was something he’d secretly suspected for some time—but now he was forced to face it in a very immediate manner. He wondered if it was true and begged for some proof that it wasn’t. Could Meu manipulate the thoughts of those she bit? Was she twisting Fedring’s words, so to say? For a second, Derris convinced himself she was a devil after all, come to divide the good people of Minist. He wondered if he did the wrong thing when he pulled the arrow from her wing. He should have killed her and taken her corpse to Petaerus after all! But as he thought this, a small voice told him he did the right thing—a voice he recognized as his own.

For some time, Derris sat against the tree and considered the tight knots of his own confusion. Finally, he stood and walked back to Camp Calderhal. He took the feathers to Petaerus and told him a bold faced lie.

“What? This is all you find?!” Petaerus asked as he snatched the feathers from Derris.

Derris shrugged, and remembered the broken arrow in his pocket. He would not be returning that. “What was it you shot?” he asked and pointed to the fantastic nature of the feathers, curious to know if Petaerus got a good look at Meu.

Petaerus shook his head. “Some giant bird...” he stared at Derris and slowly turned sour. “Nothing else?!” he finally erupted. “You found nothing?!”

“A bit of blood... a trail that did not last,” Derris shrugged. “Whatever it was, I do not think you killed it. Shall I go back out? Shall I search some more?” He asked, and thought he might like to have more time to himself.

Petaerus swore and muttered under his breath. He pulled off his helmet and secured the feathers with a band of cloth, then placed the helmet back on his head. He turned to Dolif. “How do I look?”

Dolif admired the feathers and smiled. “They’re quite impressive,” he assured his friend.

“Dear gods, let that beast return!” Petaerus flexed. “I’d rather take another shot at that monster than rub against naked Naharahna herself!”

Derris was shocked at the impropriety. “Blasphemy!” He whispered.

Petaerus heard him. He turned on the lesser guard and scoffed. “You are too serious! Do you think the gods even notice us as we crawl about the dirt? To them, we are but ants!”

Derris frowned. “Who informs your faith?”

“Informs my...” Petaerus repeated as he drew himself up. “Listen here, Derris: we are dust before the gods! We are nothing but the fallen children of a broken moon—and she is most broken! Do you not see? This life is nothing but our torment! The gods have demanded the impossible of us; the task of reforming this world! But I am not dumb enough to attempt the impossible! Instead, I shall take what I can hack out of this jungle! Hischeidah has the right of it; all is folly! Do as you want!” Petaerus touched the stylized star on Derris’s collar. “But I see what you are. One day, the school of Addivus will see the light—if the Empress doesn’t put an early end to his band of bleeding heart enablers! Why she tolerates him at all is beyond me!”

Red faced and furious, Derris shrugged and stepped away. He was not about to argue politics with a higher rank, especially after what he just witnessed.

“Hold!” Dolif called after him. “You haven’t been released!”

“Let him go,” Petaerus scoffed. “It must be quite taxing to be so incompetent and wrong all the time. At least we can let him be these things on his own,” he called.

Derris returned to his post. He finally relaxed after his confrontation with Petaerus and Dolif, only to be bothered by the foul thoughts of Fedring once more. The longer Derris dwelled on it, the more convinced he was of Fedring’s sins and also of general corruption among the Baradha. The Baradha—now there was a term he had not known at the start of his day! And to think he served in their various corruptions! What were they really doing in this foreign land? They were certainly not bringing peace to the natives, as they so often said!

Meu continued to eavesdrop on the guard’s unprotected thoughts, She felt sorry for him. We need not explore the fetid acts of Fedring anymore. It is not your responsibility to remake the Empire, she said. Instead, let me entertain you with memories of my own.

Derris wasn’t expecting her to still be in his head. A righteous indignation came over him—but was quickly erased as the sensations of flight washed through the guard. The warmth of the sun and the cool of the breeze mingled as strong wings twisted in the wind. In his mind, he remembered spinning lazy circles in thermal updrafts as he drifted higher and higher. He dove for the earth at incredible speeds, and the world rushed up to meet him. He skittered about the edge of storm clouds, and danced next to the sheer face of cliffs. But even as his memories drifted among distant clouds, Derris was troubled by the hate and secret motivations of his betters. He could not shake it. He could not break free of Fedring’s memories.

After his shift, Derris wandered about the camp, unsure what to do with himself. A lost soul. The reason and purpose he carried through his days was turned on its head. He was suddenly without course. A rudderless ship. Out of mere habit, he found himself in front of the mess hall. He paid a bot for a late lunch and ate out of obligation to his body.

As he ate, Derris looked about the mess hall. Several priestesses sat around a table with a number of their children. He wondered if he should take his troubles to the priesthood. Who better to help with a crisis of faith?

There was only one among the faith he cared to trust. Derris didn’t bother to change his armor. He went straight to the tent of Wenifas and rang her bell. Agitated as he was, he impatiently rang again. Only then did he realize she might be with another petitioner. The idea that he might have to wait was repugnant. He turned to leave, disgusted by the need to share his troubles.

A slight hand pulled aside the thick canvas door of the tent. Wenifas stared at the retreating form of Derris. For a split second, she thought to let him go—but she liked the man and decided his company might be a fine thing. “Patience, friend,” she said to the retreating guard.

Derris turned. Wenifas smiled at the man she knew well and often. She was a petite thing with dark hair and lots of freckles. Just to look upon her melted his troubled heart.

Her eyes caught on his sword, and she frowned. “What is it? Am I summoned?” she asked. A look of horror crept across her face. “Is it Claiten?”

“No,” Derris replied. “I apologize, I have not thought to remove my gear. Must I go to the barracks and change, or might I come in?”

Wenifas stepped aside as she held open the canvas door of her tent. He seemed so distracted. She was afraid if she sent him away, he would not return again for some days. “Do not make a habit of it,” she smiled as he stepped aside. “I trust there is reason for your hastiness?”

“I suffer,” Derris frowned as he sat among her worn rugs. “I have witnessed a thing and I do not know what to make of it.” He removed his sword and helmet, and set them aside.

Wenifas sat facing him in the soft clothes of her profession. “What causes you pain, my friend?” she asked as she rubbed sympathy into his leg.

“A crisis,” Derris admitted. “A crisis of faith,” he whispered.

“You are in the right place,” Wenifas smiled. “Might I ask after the tithe?”

“Yes,” Derris answered. “I shall have this day and night—though I must return to my duties at midnight,” he gave her several coins, a proper and generous offering.

Wenifas took the money and quickly counted it. “I accept your charge and bid you welcome,” she smiled and set the coin in a small bowl. She would not take the coins out of the bowl until she accounted for his visit in her book of absolution. “Now, how shall we start? Shall we perform ritual?” She leaned into him. “Shall we dance and meld ourselves?” She licked his ear.

“I would speak,” Derris admitted. “I would tell you what I’ve seen.”

“Then I will listen,” Wenifas sat back and stared at Derris. She smiled at him expectantly.

For several seconds, Derris couldn’t speak. What if she didn’t believe him? What if she was a secret friend of Fedring? As Derris considered his difficulties, he noticed the edge of her clothing, and studied the curve of her shirt as it rose and fell over her chest. Worn about the edges, her blouse had an intricate lace border made of a fine, though old, material. At one time, the shirt must have been expensive. No longer. Many of the other priestesses would not wear a thing so thin. As Derris considered her shirt, he looked up to see the patient, smiling eyes of Wenifas gazing back at him, and he realized the shirt was the finest garment in all the land, simply because it touched her skin so freely.

“Should I ask questions?” Wenifas asked.

Derris frowned. He opened his mouth. He closed it. In the back of his mind, Derris could still sense Meu, as if she was looking over his shoulder. This made the guard even more reticent to speak. He looked about the tent. He stared at Wenifas and then looked away. He could not force the words to come out.

“Okay,” Wenifas leaned forward and kissed the guard. “We will talk later, yes? For now, leave your words and concentrate on your senses.” She lifted his shirt and undid his belt as she kissed him again. She pushed him to his back. Her warm, sweet breath made his head swim. The storms in her eyes spoke of mirth and succor as she lifted her shirt over her head and shook out her long dark hair.

~!@#$%^&*()_+ 10.3 +_)(*&^%$#@!~

Having purged Derris of his lust, Wenifas laid with the guard and considered his mood. Normally, Derris was gentle and attentive in his ways, but today he was forceful and aggravated. An edge of suspicion colored his lovemaking. Though Wenifas did not like the cling and neediness of most of the guards—there was too much of it among the men—she enjoyed the change of this quiet and often inhibited man. It spoke of a depth she had not encountered and a complexity she did not expect.

“Now what of this crisis?” Wenifas began.

“I am hearing thoughts,” Derris replied. “Not my thoughts, mind you, I am always hearing those. But I am hearing the thoughts of others.”

“Sounds unlikely,” Wenifas kissed him. “What am I thinking?” She challenged.

“I cannot hear everyone’s thoughts,” Derris frowned. “It is but a few—two if I am exact.”

“And how did this happen?” Wenifas asked.

“I was ordered into the woods after a bird—a giant bird, mind you. I found it, or should I say, she found me? But she was not a bird at all. She was a serpent with wings.”

“She?” Wenifas caught on the word.

Derris nodded, “She was twelve, maybe fifteen feet long? A great beast though she was no beast at all! Her wings were as long as my arms! She bit me, and after she bit me, she was in my head.”

“Then I make love to a serpent?” Wenifas smiled. “Does she like it?”

Derris frowned. “It is not a joke,” he said, though Meu chuckled in his head.

“Of course not,” Wenifas agreed. “She bit you like this?” Wenifas playfully teethed his neck.

“Only she broke the skin and put her venom in me,” he said and pointed at two marks several inches apart, one on his hand and the other on his wrist. “Indeed,” Wenifas frowned as she inspected the bite marks. She was not expecting such proof.

“She was beautiful,” Derris noted. “She called herself a wind serpent, a basilisk, and a wyrm. Have you ever heard of such things?”

“Not a one—and she is a thing of beauty, you say?” Wenifas smoldered. “Tell me, do you think of her as you dig in me?”

“Don’t be vulgar,” Derris frowned. “She is beautiful in the way of the wind, or waves as they roll off the ocean. One does not make love to the landscape.”

Wenifas shook her head. “Every flower begs for the rape of the bee,” she smiled and put up a hand to cut off his protest. “You are quite right. Do not mind my jealousy,” Her fingers played across his skin. “So this serpent bit you, and with her venom in your veins, she could put thoughts in your head. Perhaps she causes you to hallucinate?”

Derris thought on it, “I do not think so. I have suffered hallucination—under guidance of course.”

“Of course,” Wenifas nodded. “Was she trying to kill you?”

“No. Her only motivation was communication. After she bit me, she could speak in my mind,” Derris repeated. “Is such a thing even possible?”

Wenifas shrugged. “There is so much I do not know.”

Derris nodded. “I must believe it is. The things she showed me... We talked for some time. She was very polite, and I was very honest. I removed the arrow from her wing,” Derris reached across the room for his pants. He pulled pieces of broken arrow from his pocket and showed the fragments to Wenifas. “It is not possible that I have simply imagined this,” he stated.

Wenifas frowned as she noted the blood on the arrow. “She was shot?”

“By Petaerus. He shot her without even knowing what she was,” Derris explained.

“Ah, then you are at the gate.”

“For another night,” Derris admitted. “Then I go back to the other fort for another week,” he whispered as he was not supposed to tell her such things.

“So you went out into the woods to secure a kill for Petaerus,” Wenifas surmised. “Then this wind serpent bit you, which allowed her to speak in your mind. Then she told you things—and you believe they are true?”

“She’s rather wise and honest,” Derris noted.

“The devil is wise and honest to a fault,” Wenifas noted. “She may tell the truth, but if she is using it to convince you of lies, you must not believe any of it. Evil always uses good things in bad ways. That is the nature of evil.”

Derris shook his head. “The things she showed me were not unbelievable. In fact, everything she showed me makes perfect sense. This is what worries me. It is easy to think she deceives me, that her thoughts are all lies. But that means I must go against my own observations. It is hard to believe she showed me the truth—except that it brings a cruel clarity to the world. It all makes sense. And so I find myself in an intolerable situation!”

“Am I intolerable?” Wenifas teased.

“No,” Derris turned from her, embarrassed. “You are among the best of my world. You are beautiful, honest, kind...”

Wenifas blushed to hear his compliments.

“Is a good soul a thing for humans alone?” Derris continued. “Is it possible that a good soul might wear a serpent’s skin?”

Wenifas narrowed her eyes. “What did she tell you? What has so changed your world that you now call it intolerable?”

“I said there were two voices in my head. She bit another before she bit me. She shared his thoughts. His memories ran rampant through my mind,” Derris explained.

“And his thoughts were... dark?” Wenifas guessed. “Evil?”

“He is the worst of things: corrupt, filthy. He does the worst of things: lie, steal, torture.”

Wenifas sat back and stared at Derris as he floundered once more. “Okay,” she began. “So a giant serpent bit you, and thought some thoughts into your head, and also thought the thoughts of someone else into your head that you know and trusted. Because of these thoughts, you now believe this other is a murderer and filth. Is this the tale you tell me?”

“Pretty much,” Derris affirmed. “Though I shan’t say I ever trusted him...” he hedged.

“And who is this man? Is he one of the guard?” Wenifas asked. She leaned in close and whispered. “Is he one of your officers?” Her eyes went wide with the possibility of such a scandal. “Is it Petaerus?”

Derris shook his head. “I do not claim pure righteousness—and I expect it in no other. But this one... I am led to believe he is above reproach. He is so near to the gods.”

Wenifas stared at him with anticipation. The intense look reminded Derris of what he risked. If word of the guard’s suspicions got back to Fedring, it might cost Derris his position and pay. He might receive lashings for spreading such slander. Personal attacks against one of such high office demanded clear evidence—or harsh punishment. Derris turned his head. Gently, he pushed away from Wenifas and sat up. “No,” he whispered. “I cast doubts upon my betters. I do not wish to do so,” he hanged his head.

“You mustn’t fear me. Fear is the enemy! As a soldier, you must know this,” Wenifas reminded him. “I swear myself to secrecy. I swear it on the gods, this story shall go no further than this tent.”

Derris looked Wenifas in the eye. “You swear it?”

“By Ooroiyuo,” she nodded. “By Naharahna.”

Derris took in a long breath. With fear in his eyes, he whispered. “It is his grace, the Corpus Majoris himself. It is Fedring.”

Horror lit across the priestess’ face. She quickly hid it. Only Meriona the Jay and High Commander Gliedian matched the rank of Fedring—yet Fedring was the ranking member of the Church, which was her order. Wenifas knew him well. She suppressed a shudder as she leaned in close. “What did this creature show you?” She whispered, unable to stop her morbid curiosity.

“The most evil things,” Derris admitted. “I should not think he is capable of such monstrosity. I thought few men are capable of the things I saw, and among them were only our enemies. I thought I did not know such wicked men!”

“What is it you saw?!” she repeated. “You have told me nothing, only vague generalities! Can’t you see you must offer proof!”

“But I have no proof!” Derris snapped. “It is only in my head! And I cannot describe the terrors I saw! Not to a lady like you!” He gasped. “Blood! Abuse! Molestation! Shall I tell of the things he has done to mere children?! Magics of the worst kind, as black as midnight, with demons of the very worst sort!”

“What do you know of dark magic?” Wenifas asked. “What do you know of demons?”

“Too much,” he said as a wildness took light in his eyes. “I know that if one wishes to be treat with the dark gods, than one must offer up what is most valuable—and what is more valuable than innocence, beauty, youth?!” Derris took a deep breath. “No! I am cured of it! I am sure this is a trick of the devil! I will entertain these thoughts no more! Fedring is above reproach!”

Wenifas frowned. She cast a critical eye upon the guard, in large part because she also knew Fedring to be an opportunist and a pig. “Now you lie to me. You believe her still, this serpent. You think she shows you true, don’t you?”

Derris stared at Wenifas, his gaze was full of love and terror. He could see a battle in her, much like the one that raged in him. He could sense her fear, and somehow knew he’d changed things for both of them. He pulled her close and wrapped her in his arms.

Wenifas was quiet as she rested against Derris. The guard no longer spoke. Indeed, they both knew he’d said too much. For a time, neither said anything. Then after a while, Wenifas felt compelled. “I am glad you tell me these things,” she began.

Derris sighed his relief and offered a smile.

“There is much trouble in what you’ve said,” Wenifas whispered. “You mustn’t tell your friends, the other priestesses, or anyone. Not now. Not ever. Nobody. Do you hear?”

Derris nodded.

Wenifas continued in her serious manner. “You speak to anyone, even a word, and I will deny it all. I will not speak to you again. I will denounce you,” she claimed.

Derris frowned as he gave another nod, and kept his eyes locked on hers.

“I must tell you a thing, and you mustn’t be disturbed by its implication. Now swear you will repeat none of it.”

“Thrice you have asked me to swear, and I have affirmed it each time,” Derris replied. “You are the only one I have told, and it took me most the day to build up the trust and courage to do that!”

Wenifas smiled. “Then you are not a fool,” she said. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Fedring is imperfect—as are we all. I suspect even the Empress has faults, though it is not my position to say so. It is not my position to speak against any of them,” Wenifas sighed. “And yet I do. I see their hypocrisy. I see their lies. The world is not as we are led to believe. These people are above us legally—but morally?” She shook her head. “I cannot believe that. I have too many doubts.”

“It is sacrilege we speak,” Derris whispered. “It is sacrilege.”

Wenifas felt her heart sink.

“But it is truth,” Derris gave a nod. “It strikes me as truth, and that is what worries me most.”

“What are we to make of such contradictions?” Wenifas asked. “What are we to believe? Are all our leaders evil? Is every part of the priesthood a lie?”

Derris shook his head. “I do not know. How am I to know such things?”

“It cannot all be a lies,” Wenifas smiled. “You see, I have prayed a great deal, because I see the hypocrisy. I have seen it for years—but I do not have the strength to confront it! I have asked the gods for council, but they are silent—or they were—until they gave me someone to trust,” she beamed at the guard.

“Who have they given you?” Derris asked.

Wenifas shot a withering look at the guard and pushed against his chest. “You, you fool! Do you not see?! The gods answer prayers! And if they answer prayers, then they must be gods!”

“Then perhaps the rituals are not wicked,” Derris replied. “Do you know what I thought just now? I thought if it is all wicked, perhaps sex is truly a sin against the gods, and we secretly serve demons.”

Wenifas considered it for a moment. “I do not think so,” she answered. “And this is why: we do not lie. We are honest. We make fair trade. In the rituals we give what is promised.”

Derris thought on it. He liked her answer and smiled.

Wenifas frowned. “But that is not to say that the rituals are not perverted,” she turned away. “There is no confidentiality in these tents. We swear to speak nothing outside them—but the Majoris visits us here, that we might tell him all that we witness. Like the devil, we tell lies of omission.”

Derris stared at her in horror.

“I will say nothing! You must believe that!” Wenifas swore. “And you mustn’t speak to the other priestesses of what you know! They will lie to you, as you lay on them! Many are pawns of the Corpus Majoris, his willing spies! He pays them with favor, coin, and title! He buys them as cheap as he can! I know because he’s offered me the same trinkets to betray my brothers and sisters!”

“And you refuse?”

“I play stupid,” Wenifas shrugged. “I pretend that I do not understand, and that I have nothing to give. I believe he thinks me simple.”

“I know it,” Derris admitted. “I have seen his dealings in the serpent’s thoughts. But you are not there. I trust you,” He hung his head in shame. “I mean to trust you,” he continued. “At the moment, I trust nothing...”

“I do not blame you, there is an incredible web of lies all about us,” Wenifas replied.

“It is so much to consider! You shall not have to worry about me telling anyone else! I should never want to speak of this ever again,” Derris said.

“That will not last,” Wenifas assured him. “For now, let us forget it. For now, let us do other things. For now,” She locked eyes with the guard, “let us worship.”

Derris stared at Wenifas. His hand reached for hers. “Is it proper? Is this what the gods want of us? What if other peoples have the truth of it? What if we are meant to be celibate?”

“We have our entire lives to swear off sex. For now, we can be only as we are,” she smiled. “Besides, this will bring us peace. It will bring us hope. Will it not?”

“I believe it will,” Derris agreed. He pulled Wenifas close and kissed her. “I am glad I have you, even if it is only for the night. I know it is sacrilege to say so, but I wish I could afford you now and forever.”

Wenifas smiled. “I think you speak the sweetest things. If it is sacrilege, than I too am a heretic. I would belong to none but you,” she kissed him back. His skin was warm and inviting as she pressed against him. With one hand she felt between his legs. He perked with the touch and she prepared to take him in.

A weak cough and a bit of a whine emanated from another part of the tent. Suddenly, the full bawl of a babe erupted. With a heavy sigh, Wenifas pulled away from Derris. She smiled down at the guard. “It is Evereste. Let me see to her,” she said and slowly disentangled herself. “You stay,” she commanded and jabbed Derris in the chest with a rough finger.

Derris stared as Wenifas walked out. She wrapped a shawl about her shoulders, turned, and parted the curtain to the other room. She smiled at the guard, then disappeared into the dark.

~@#$%^&*()_+ 10.4 +_)(*&^%$#@!~

Meu’s connection to Derris died as he made love to the priestess once more. She grinned as the ecstasy of his experience slowly faded into nothing.

Distracted, Meu stumbled upon more of her enemies. This time it was not ns. Instead it was bugbear. There were four of them and they turned on her immediately. With spears, axes, clubs, and darts, they gave chase.

Meu was quick and managed to evade them. She would have lost the bugbear quite easily, except that others joined the hunt. Two more came from her right and almost caught her unaware. Then another from her left—though she saw him in plenty of time. Suddenly there were too many to count, and they came at her from every direction! With nowhere else to go, Meu climbed a massive pine.

The buggers cheered as they surrounded the tree. More and more of the beasts approached. There were dozens below her, and yet more gathered, curious to see what their brothers had trapped!

Several climbed the tree and others nearby, that they might get close enough to throw and shoot at her. Several chopped at the tree as others danced and cheered on their efforts.

Meu stared down at the beasts in astonishment. There must be close to a hundred of them below her—and still more approached! Meu could not believe her eyes! How many of the little devils were out here!?

With each hack of the axes, the tree began to sway. It was time to escape them properly, she thought, and hoped her wing was up to the task. Meu spread her wings and launched up from the tree. She lifted herself into the air and rose toward the noonday sun. She only hoped she had the strength to get high enough, and far enough as she glanced down at the gathering mass of vermin.