Well of the Damned

Chapter 50





People were coming out of their homes and businesses to look up at the clearing blue sky. Gavin didn’t bother to put his disguise back up when he joined them on the street. It was time to celebrate with them, not escape their notice. At first, no one recognized him, but as the rest of the mail clad battlers came outside without their cloaks obscuring their mail, people did notice.

Daia and Tennara frantically tried to keep people from crowding him at first. Gavin just laughed. “It’s awright. Calm yourself. Let’s just enjoy the sunshine together for a moment.”

He was swarmed by happy, spirited people. Hands patted him, congratulated him, thanked him for stopping the rain. He looked over the tops of their heads at Cirang where she worked, alongside Brawna and Calinor, to prohibit entry into the temple. Even unarmed and without magic, she’d played a crucial role in ending the rain. Crafty, she was, even now that she was zhi-bent. The question that plagued him was: would she have forced the water down Cabrice’s throat if Fabrice hadn’t relented?

“What about the temple?” someone shouted. “Why can’t we go in?”

The crowd was so loud, it seemed Gavin was the only one who heard the question. “Quiet down a moment,” he said, gesturing with his arms to get their attention. “Quiet down.” His deep voice boomed over the other voices, and gradually people quieted and settled down. “I’m sorry we got— have to interrupt your communion with Asti-nayas for a time. The water in the sacramental font’s been fouled. Let us clean it out and send for a new High Cleric to lead your prayers, and the temple will be open again soon.”

“Fouled? How?” someone asked.

“A new High Cleric? Why?” asked another.

“Was Seer Mirfak responsible for the font being fouled?” asked a third.

“Let’s just say it’s a poison of sorts. Seer Mirfak wasn’t responsible,” Gavin said, “but he’s been affected, along with two of his clerics. He’ll be unable to perform as High Cleric for a time. I’ll contact the Supreme Council of Clergy and have them send someone to replace Seer Mirfak and his other clerics. It shouldn’t be long.”

He shook some hands before excusing himself to go back into the temple. Daia and Tennara shut the doors behind him, and Brawna remained outside with his sword and the two magical rings. He tried to ignore the anxious feeling of it being outside his reach.

“Are you responsible for this?” one of the clerics demanded. “Unleash me this instant! I’m the High Cleric here. You can’t do this. I’ll have Asti-nayas strike you down where you stand, you ignorant cur!”

“Strike him down!” said another cleric, a short, plump buck with sagging jowls.

“Can someone gag him?” Gavin asked as he headed towards the altar.

“No,” the cleric said. “No! Unhand me, filthy wench. This is an outrage. I demand you—” He tried to shake off the gag, and failing that, he shouted muffled curses.

“There are buckets back here, my liege,” Cirang said. She skirted past him to grab a candle from the altar and opened the door on the right.

“I’ll fill them, you evaporate them?” Daia said from behind him.

“Your Majesty,” Cirang said, lighting the way. “Let me fill the buckets from the font. The water won’t do me any harm. If anyone else touches it... I wouldn’t want anyone else to suffer for what I’ve done.”

Gavin looked her up and down, trying to reconcile what he was hearing with the woman in front of him. If he didn’t know better, he’d have thought this was Cirang’s twin. It was a good idea, though. They would be wise to treat the water carefully. “Awright. Does that door lead outside?” he asked, pointing to a second door.

“Yes, sire. A small alley.”

“I should do it outside,” Gavin said, “so the steam doesn’t touch anyone when it rises.” He opened the door and stepped into the alley behind the temple. It was a weed-choked gravel alley littered with broken and water-logged benches and chairs, scraps of cloth and the ant-covered remains of some dead animal. With no one around, this was a good place to take care of the tainted water. “Cirang fills the buckets, Daia and Tennara bring the water to me — carefully. Don’t let it splash out. Someone go tell Brawna to bring Aldras Gar around to this door.”

It took the better part of two hours to drain the font. Cirang had to resort to using rags to soak up the last of the water, wringing it into the bucket. Everyone took care handling the water, and no one suffered any ill effects. They used soap and brushes they found in the storage room to scour the font, and then rinsed it thoroughly with clean water from the public well. Though he was satisfied it was clean and free of the tainted water, Gavin would have liked to examine the font with his hidden eye, to see whether any droplets remained. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t even find his hidden eye while he was inside the temple, much less see anything with it.

They put the three clerics on the backs of Brawna’s, Cirang’s and Tennara’s mounts, and the three women shared a ride to the lordover’s property with Gavin, Daia and Calinor. As they approached the gate, Gavin could hear Feanna hollering all the way from the guesthouse.

“Has she been screaming the whole time?” he asked Rikard.

“Yes, my liege. We’ve had quite a few people come to ask who the maniac— uh, I mean, who was making so much noise.”

Gavin scowled. They were talking about his wife and the mother of his unborn son. After seeing the clerics into the gaol, he decided to spend the night at the Princess Inn. There would be plenty of time on the ride home to listen to her screech and complain.

“If you don’t mind, my liege,” Tennara said, “I’d like to relieve Lila.”

Gavin nodded. “I’m sure she could use a bit of quiet. Tell Eriska and the others to have my wife ready for travel at first light. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Sleep well, my liege. You’ve earned it.”

“What about her?” Daia said, indicating Cirang with her thumb. “Can I kill her now, or do you want to do it?”

What would a king do? Gavin eyed Cirang up and down. “No. She drank the well water. She’s different now.”

“That doesn’t change what she’s done.”

“No,” he said, “but it changes how she feels about it. She’s no longer a danger to anyone.”

Calinor gripped Gavin’s shoulder. “You’re going to set her free?” he asked, his whisper fierce. “After all she’s done?”

“What we’ve done matters less than who we’ve become.” Gavin raised his eyebrows at Cirang. “What do you think a suitable punishment is?”

Cirang burst into tears. The guilt and shame were heavy burdens, and now the king was sparing her life? She didn’t think she could bear the memories of her crimes or the faces of the people she’d slain haunting her dreams. “For the terrible things I’ve done, I deserve death, my liege, and I would be grateful for it.”

“No,” he said. “I disagree. You deserve worse than death. You deserve to live with your memories and guilt. Until I find a way to repair the damage you did, consider yourself indentured.”