Wysper - An Unexpected Invitation

Tonight is the last night of the festival... and Greywolf has not come.

In truth, I never thought he would. The night after the Ceremony of Plentiful Giving, when Greywolf had walked the Shadowlands just to kiss me, Yrg had found me in the rooms I share with Thalia and Myra and gone through my mind as if pulling everything out of a carefully arranged cabinet and dumping it onto the floor. It took me a full day to recover, with the dreams about being rescued by him beginning the following night. I know Yrg was the one to plant them there but what can I do? At least this time the dreams are pleasant, and not the nightmares I was expecting to receive. Though I do wonder why Yrg planted them at all.

Besides, if Greywolf did try a rescue attempt, how could he find me without being caught? The city of Bukhara has several separate districts, with the important ones kept apart from the rest of the city by stone walls, with gates to control access. Such as the temple district we are residing in now. It is in the southeast part of the city, the quadrangle dedicated to Yun-Kax and his allied gods being in the center of the district, with pyramids sacred to other major gods arranged in an orderly fashion around it.

Between the pyramid quadrangles are stone buildings for the priests to use, the largest one at the back of Yun-Kax's pyramid for the High Priest when he is visiting, while at the rear of the district are buildings for the less important people to share.

Like the women's quarters we are living in now. Unlike our house in Tesiphon, here we are cramped for space, but I do not mind. It reminds me of our old dwelling in Britannia, with all its comings and goings and gossip, and giggling over silly things, and... no, it does me no good to remember. The old days are gone, never to return.

At least this building has running water. One of the ceramic pipes leads into a cistern on top of the building, where the water is heated by the sun, so I have warm water for my bath, which is within a large stone pool I am sharing with several other women, and females of other races.

The stone walls are layered with ceramic tiles of river scenes, while the floor of the bath room is tiled in blue. Myra is sitting on the edge, her own feet in the water as she washes my hair, humming the melody of a hymn to Pan as I hum the counterpoint. Singing his praises is forbidden, of course. But no one has ever told us we cannot hum.

We finish the hymn, then Myra takes a battered, silver pitcher and fills it with warm water from the pipe pouring water into the pool, which she uses to rinse the soap from my hair. Putting the pitcher down with a metallic clang on the stone floor, she dries my hair with a towel. I close my eyes as she begins running a wooden comb, one of the few items we had been allowed to bring with us from Britannia, through my hair as she teases out the tangles.

The slap, slap, slap, of broad feet on stone echoes off the walls, and a moment later, so does Thalia's voice. "One of the High Priest's eunuchs is here with an officer of the temple district guards and a half-dozen of his men."

I open my eyes and climb out of the pool. Myra is holding the towel I step into, and she dries me off with practiced ease as she humphs, "Why did the High Priest not send a messenger first? I still need to take my bath, and you have flour on your hands from kneading dough."

Thalia is wearing a plain linen dress, stained with berry juice and bits of unleavened dough. "We are not going. The summons is for Wysper, alone."

A stab of fear shoots through me. "Alone? Thalia, he never summons just one of us to his chambers."

'I know," Thalia replies, a scowl replacing her usual cheerful expression. "He has never allowed even a whiff of impropriety to attach itself to us. I do not know what has changed."

"I think I do." A guilty look steals over Myra's face. "The High Priest's chief acolyte, Kavad-El, told me Bukhara is the last of the empire's satrapies we are going to visit. Once the festival is over, we are heading home."

Home as in Tesiphon and not our real home of Britannia. Thalia's eyes narrow. "And just how did you come by this information, might I ask?" Myra's face reddens, and Thalia turns her scowl on my priestess-sister. "Do you realize what the High Priest will do if he finds out?"

Myra shakes her head. "He will not, I promise. Besides, we did very little wrong. A few kisses, nothing more."

"That depends on where you did the kissing," a new voice says. I look down at the edge of the pool. One of the local priestesses of a mystery cult, a Daemo who has been sculpted to look like an an elongated woman with eternally wide, innocent looking purple eyes, boyish hips, and black hair, has swum to our side. "Between the sheets, Kavad-El told me how he taught you to pleasure him with your mouth, so he would not be tempted to risk defiling your holy virginity."

Being Myra's confidant, I already knew, but Thalia is shocked to the core. "Myra!"

"He never touched me," Myra says quickly, "or asked me to disrobe. Thalia, we have to make friends among them, even if it means pushing at the edges of what we are allowed. There is a movement among the other temples to displace Yun-Kax from the dominant position their temple holds. Kavad-El told me the other temples believe the High Priest has too much power, and that there is a plot to bring him down." Myra grabs Thalia's hand. "If that happens, we have to be prepared."

Myra never told me anything about a plot. "Myra, this is serious. The High Priest could be using the chief acolyte to test your loyalty."

She looks at me. "I thought of that, but Kavad-El swore that was not the case when I threw the accusation at him. He told me the plan is to depose the High Priest as soon as he returns from this trip, stripping power from all Yun-Kax's priests and giving it to the acolytes instead, making them temple priests, while Kavad-El becomes high-priest of equal stature with the other high priests of the other temples."

I grab Myra by the shoulders. "Listen to me. We may be slaves of the Sasnayams, but the High Priest sees that we are taken care of, unlike the slaves of the other temples. Or would you like the priests of Ghash-Kimil to get their hands on us?" Myra shivers, and I gently shake her. "The High Priest needs to be told."

Fear sweeps her face. "Promise me you will not tell him."

"I will not," I reply, letting Myra go, "because you will. Tomorrow at dawn, the priests of Yun-Kax will hear the final confessions, so you must request one with the High Priest, as is traditional for all penitents. He will be intrigued and doubtless hear yours himself."

"But... he will know what I did."

"The High Priest will learn of it eventually," says the dark haired Daemo in the pool. "I am a priestess of Istar, goddess of carnal passions, and have dealt with your High Priest for more years than you have been alive. He will find out."

"Blood drinking Daemo whore," Thalia sniffs.

"Among other things," the Daemo replies with a smile. "However," the smile leaving her face, "it also means I know how the world works. Confess and the High Priest will be lenient with you, perhaps even with Kavad-El, who you obviously have feelings for." Myra blushes a deep red and the Daemo nods. "Daemo see things in humans that others do not. If you do not confess, though, his wrath will be a cold, fearsome thing. Do not ask me how I know."

Seeing the bleakness in her face, I shiver myself, as Thalia puts her hand on Myra's and my own shoulders. "As eldest, I will decide whether Myra confesses to the High Priest or not. We will wait until Wysper returns, and after hearing her tale of the night's events, I will decide our best course of action." Her hand closes on my thin shoulder. "You will say nothing of this without my permission." I nod and she lets us go. "We have wasted too much time already. Myra, help Wysper dress, the demure blue one he just gave her."

"The black one," I reply.

Thalia frowns. "That one makes you look like a whore."

"I am already Yun-Kax's whore, so why should I not dress like one to please his servant?" Ignoring Thalia's shocked expression, I pad across the stone floor towards the open doorway where our chambers lay, Myra at my heels, and walk down the carpeted hallway until I reach our rooms.

Myra goes right for the wardrobe where our dresses are hung on hooks, grabs the black one and, as I raise my arms, slips it over my head. She takes a few moments adjusting it. In truth, it is is almost as demure as the blue one, the dress leaving my shoulders bare, but far too flowing to reveal much more. However, the sleeves and the hem are cut to look like black flames when I move my limbs, with a hint of red cloth underneath emphasizing the effect.

I am still damp from the bath and the dress clings to my slender hips more than I like, so I pull it away as Myra dabs a tiny bit of Egyptian Kohl on her finger and uses it around my eyes. She steps back and I smile at my friend. "How do I look?"

Her return smile is a shadow of its usual self. "Like the privileged wife of a noble lord." Her expression grows worried. "Wysper..."

I put my finger to her lips. "Later." Myra nods. I kiss her on the lips, grab the red pashmina I will use against the evening's chill air, and then hurry out of the room.

The evening air is losing the heat of the day, but the paving stones beneath my bare feet are still warm as the sun's brightness slowly fades in the west, letting the light of the stars overhead return.

At least they would return, had the rest of the city not been lit up like a Noble's banquet hall. The temple district is lit here and there by torches, but beyond its walls the city blazes with light and the sounds of drunken revelry, with men shouting or attempting to drown out other singers with raucous songs of their own, while women laugh. Tonight is the night of Bukhara's festival of Light conquering the Dark, celebrating not only Yun-Kax but all the gods and goddesses of the Sasnayam pantheon as well.

Including the god of death. Unlike the other pyramids, covered in bright colors of yellow or green, the temple of Ghash-Kimil is painted black. Its open entrance, wide enough to let a wagon enter, is outlined in human blood and the bleached bones of its sacrificial victims, whose bodies are arranged in welcoming positions, as if inviting you to enter. Whispered rumors of the rites practiced within its walls have reached even my ears, and as I pass underneath the shadow it casts from the setting sun, I suppress a shudder.

The young captain of the half-dozen temple guards, who are walking on either side of us, never notices. "Tell me," he says in a voice as light as the flutes I can hear accompanying the singers, "what you think of our great city of Bukhara?"

I shrug, listening to the jangling sounds his metal armor makes as he walks. "I am not an expert on cities, but for a small city-state on the edge of the waste, it seems fine."

The High Priest's eunuch, a massive presence at my back, gives a derisive snort. "You rely far too much on your ancestor's heroic reputation for your defense. Your gates are too weak to withstand a determined assault, your walls have been neglected, and as for the poor quality of your soldiers..."

"Enough!" The gaudy plates of the captain's armor, designed to look like a serpent's scales, shine red as blood for a moment in the torchlight. "Bukhara's warriors are among the finest in the east. We have stood up to raiders out of Khor, nomad tribes, bandit kings, and even if this supposed White Horde," his hand waving in an easterly direction, "showed up, we would defeat them. The city-state of Bukhara is a mighty fortress."

The eunuch only snorts again, and I speak before he can make matters worse. "If your city has withstood all those attacks, I have no doubt it would stand up to anything the White Horde could muster."

Somewhere close to the wall, a woman's voice begins a bawdy song about Ghash-Kimil desperately trying to stop the Festival and failing miserably, with drunken male voices joining in on the chorus. I sigh as I look at the lights beyond the stone walls. "The High Priest has forbidden us to venture outside of the temple district, but I do wish I could see the festival up close before we return."

"The word in the barracks is that your party will not be traveling northward to Akhur, but instead plans to return to Tesiphon once the festival is over, as Akhur decided to renew their allegiance to the Lords of Khor."

I shrug again, and the captain's babyish face turns sly. "You know, my watch will be over after you are delivered safely from the High Priest's quarters back to the women's house. I could escort you and a flagon of wine to the top of the great pyramid, where we could watch the festivities together. The revelry will likely last until dawn."

I raise my eyebrows. "You do realize that, if I lose my virginity on the top of the pyramid or anywhere else, my fertility magic comes to an end?"