“And these are the resources we currently have on hand from the latest pythian harvest,” Argas said, handing a sheet of paper to Shamain. She took it, glanced at it briefly, grimaced in distaste, then tossed it on the pile with the others.

What a load of rakshit the avatar had left her to deal with. Shamain shook her head in disgust. Had she really bothered to rush back from the coast for this?

Not that she’d known what was waiting, only that she’d wasted enough time as it was. This avatar was still too much of an unknown to leave unattended for long, and after her negotiations with village of Seabrest had dragged out several days, she’d begun to grow nervous.

The result had been making her grandchildren-turned-porters run at double time, turning a journey of a week into only four days. The two boys had nearly dropped dead of exhaustion each night, but personally Shamain had thought it worth the extra trouble.

Now, staring at the mess of paperwork in front of her, she wasn’t so certain.

How could the avatar just run off like this? After she had specifically planted the seeds to keep him close to home where he’d be under constant observation. What was he thinking?

More importantly, what was Kivi thinking? Dratted girl had sided with Shamain one moment, only to go rogue the next. This is why you could never trust Daisa with anything that truly mattered. Shamain ground her teeth in frustration.

Lacking the girl herself to spend her ire on, she turned to Argas. “What do you expect me to do with this mess, hmm? You think I care a whit about what supplies those fools back at the tree are gathering?”

“The avatar left instructions to negotiate with the dveorg. I assumed you would want to take over, now that—”

“You thought wrong. I seem to recall that I left rather clear instructions for you to not let the fool boy out of your sight. Yet what did you do? Sent him off on some madcap adventure with a wave and a pat on the back, I expect. You proud of yourself for that one, Argas?”

The younger lud frowned. “I was never even consulted by the avatar about his departure. By the time I heard about it, the matter was settled. Besides, Paeral and Sworv—”

“Fah. An old fool and a slightly less old fool.” Plus another Daisa. Shamain did her best not to grind her teeth to dust over that one. At least Daisa caste were easily manipulated. She might be able to turn that to her advantage once they returned.

She glowered at Argas again. “You’ve got no spine, lad. No initiative. That’s why you’ve always been my least-favorite nephew.”

“Technically, I’m your grand-nephew.” Argas paused, then added, “Also, that hurts to hear you say, auntie.”

“Oh, best get over yourself. We have too much important work to be wallowing in self-pity.”

“I did my best to ingratiate myself with the avatar in your absence, like you asked. I even got him to call me his friend.” The boy sounded far too proud of that little fact. Shamain’s glower increased.

“And what did you manage to learn, as our avatar’s trusted friend? Did he mention anything about his plans for our future?”

“Not particularly,” Argas said. “Most of our time together was focused on finding the missing children.”

Yes, that. Another mess for the avatar to have simply dumped in her lap upon her return. While none of the children were Leadership, their absence was still worrying. Shamain already had several avenues of thought to pursue concerning their return.

“There was the matter with Sworv,” her grand-nephew continued, “But after he spoke to me about it—”

“He spoke to you about making Sworv a priest?” Shamain was ready to throw something at her bubble-headed descendant. How could this fool have been born an Etruscian?

Argas must have sensed something in her expression, as he quickly held up his hands. “Not about that! Another matter, concerning the man being allowed to manage our kitchens.”

Briefly he explained about the incident. Shamain snorted when he was done. “He actually suggested he would get rid of the caste system, did he? I knew yeth were arrogant, but apparently I didn’t know the half of it.”

“He seemed to give up the idea rather quickly after I explained the situation,” Argas noted.

“Good. Last thing we need is our avatar getting any delusions of grandeur. Could you imagine?” She snorted again and shook her head. “Suppose that was why he ended up making the man a priest. Probably figures he’ll solve everyone’s woes one lud at a time.”

Well, if that was the worst of their problems, it was one she could deal with. A few conversations on his return, a few prompts from her and the others, and she was certain he’d start seeing the wisdom in choosing further priest candidates from the pool of remaining Leadership. It was a skill that Shamain was well-versed in.

But she doubted this was the worst of what was yet to come with their precious avatar.

She rose to her feet, bones cracking as they popped back into place. Cairn take her, but it was horrible getting old! What she wouldn’t give for the body she’d had in her youth.

“Come. Let us see what we can learn about the missing lud children.”

“Auntie? Do you want me to schedule a meeting with the dveorgan chief?”

“Why in the name of our ancestors would I want you to do that? Fah, foolish boy.” Shamain made for the door, her grand-nephew falling in behind her, still muttering questions. Well, let him wonder.

Argas wasn’t old enough to remember the last time their village had been visited by the dveorg. Shamain herself had been a young girl on the cusp of maidenhood, but she still recalled it well. Her father had been chief elder of the village even then, and had brought her along with him.

“Listen and observe, Shamy,” he said, still calling her by the pet name she’d carried her entire life, despite her complaints that she was far too old now for such things. “I expect you to tell me what you learned when this is over.”

She did as her father asked, and together they approached a place outside the village where the earth appeared disturbed. Only upon closer inspection did she see that something had managed to push it outward, like a great beast emerging from the bowels of the Innerworld. She shuddered at the thought.

Villagers told stories occasionally of the mighty mungandir, the beasts that sometimes fed on pythian trees, and more often fed upon those who lived beneath its boughs...

However, a moment later several small people emerged from the hole, and all thoughts of mungandir were swept from her mind.

Her father spoke to them at length in their strange language—a language he would later teach her, as his own father had taught him—before the dveorgs retreated to their hole once again. Soon they reemerged, this time carrying a half-dozen small boxes carved out of gray stone.

In response, her father called several Daisa forward, who emerged from the village with armloads of cloth, barrels of oil, and several other commodities produced from the tree.

The dveorg appeared overjoyed at the sight, and practically scrambled over each other to seize the proffered supplies.

Trading complete, the dveorg climbed into their hole, and this time their disappearance was accompanied by a rumbling from beneath. When nothing emerged for several minutes, Shamain screwed up her courage and approached the hole.

Inside she found nothing. A short distance below the dirt the ground turned to stone—pure, unbroken stone. No sign of any tunnel or other method for reaching the surface remained.

A shadow fell over her, and Shamain turned to find her father watching her. “What did you learn, Shamy?”

“We trade with the tiny people,” she said. Even without understanding their language, she’d grasped that much. “They wanted our pythian supplies. Why?”

Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

“Because the dveorg detest sunlight and cannot remain long on the surface. They harvest much from the pythian’s roots, but accessing its bark and leaves are beyond them.”

The pythian’s roots? Shamain was reminded again of the mungandir, and she shivered despite herself.

“You misunderstand though,” her father continued. “The dveorg are not people. The gods did not create them, did not elevate them from the common human waste as they did our own ancestors long ago. Such filth is beneath us, which is also why they remain underground, as is proper.”

“Then why do we trade with them, father?” she asked.

“Just because someone is beneath us does not mean they cannot be useful, Shamy. Look at our Daisa. They learn no skills, provide no meaningful resources to the village. Their heads are empty of all but the most basic of thoughts. Yet we keep them, feed them, clothe them. Do you know why?”

He gestured to where a short distance away, the Daisa were working together to haul the heavy stone boxes into the village. Sweat streamed down their faces, and their muscles strained under the weight.

Her father turned back to her. “If not for the Daisa caste, we would need to haul our own supplies. Fetch our own water. Cook our own meals. It is because of the Daisa that we have time to enjoy a bit of leisure. That we have time to study, to create art, to write, to make ourselves better.

“So yes, the dveorg are filthy, detestable creatures. But even detestable creatures have a use, if you know how manipulate them properly.”

Her father’s words had stuck with her over the years, as she had grown and come fully into her power as a member of Leadership. Now, entering the sunset years of her life, she wondered what legacy her own life would leave. Her children were fully grown, and her grandchildren at least thought they were, even if they had not quite reached maturity in truth. Had she imparted such important lessons to them properly, as her father had done with her?

She could only hope that was the case. Because now the avatar had come, and everything was changing. The reappearance of the dveorg was proof enough of that.

So Shamain would need to be careful, and use every tool available to ensure her people’s continued survival. Even if some of those tools were more detestable than others.

After all, just because something was detestable didn’t mean it wasn’t useful.

To that end, she came to a stop in front of the door to her room. Pulling it open, she turned to Argas. “Wait here.”

“What are you—” His words cut off as she slammed the door in his face.

Shuffling as quickly as her old bones would allow, Shamain made her way across the room. While many of the lud families had taken rooms together, Shamain had opted for privacy. Both due to her status as one of Xeph’s priestess’s, and for other, more selfish reasons.

Reaching her bed, she began pushing it aside. The frame let out a groan of protest that could probably be heard through the entire temple, but who cared. Let them all think this simply another one of old Shamain’s eccentricities. She’d worked hard to cultivate the persona of a madwoman, after all.

Once the bed was sufficiently moved, she knelt down and felt about until she found the secret alcove.

It had been a lucky find on first inspecting the room. Shamain had suspected she’d turn up something of the sort, though. After all, priests had as much reason for secrets as anyone, perhaps more so. She couldn’t be the first who needed to hide items away from prying eyes.

The alcove had been empty of all but dust when she found it, but now it contained a few precious items. She took out two of these.

A pair of reddish crystals, which glittered prettily in the light of the nearby lamp.

The avatar had referred to these as ‘memory shards’. While Shamain didn’t know exactly what was meant by the name, she had a few reasonable guesses.

Guesses for which she hadn’t been able to seek answers to before leaving on her mission. But with both the avatar and Kivi gone from the temple for the foreseeable future, there was no better time.

Slipping them in her pocket, she pulled the door open, finding Argas leaning against the wall opposite. She set off down the tunnel, calling over her shoulder, “Quick slacking off. You want to find those children or not?”

Hurried footsteps followed after her. “Of course, Auntie. It’s just... if we’re not going to speak with the dveorg, where are we bound?”

“The dveorg don’t have the children,” she said, ignoring the rest of the question. “If they did, they wouldn’t have hidden it from us. Those creatures are obsessed with shows of strength. If some tribe member had found one of the children, they’d have been parading them for all the others to see, either to show how strong they were, or how strong the child was.”

“So then where—”

“Pay attention, lad! If you tried listening instead of flapping your gums so much, you might actually learn something!”

Finally, Argas went silent, padding along behind her as they made their way deeper into the temple. Shamain had only been this way once, so she hoped she remembered the correct number of turns. It should be somewhat near the wall of the cliff...

There. A pair of lud stood guard in front of a closed door, both standing up straighter at the sight of her. She noted the spear clutched by one, the decrepit sword and shield held by the other. Not as threatening as a quartet of kaiblades might have been, but the village had barely had two complete sets between them even before the cult came and stole everything away. One made do with what they had, she supposed.

“You there,” she said to the first, a woman from the Etruscian class whose name she couldn’t be bothered to remember. Why was an Etruscian standing guard? This was Daisa work if there were such a thing. “I wish to speak with one of the prisoners.”

“Priestess? Are you certain?” The woman glanced at her partner uncertainly, and for a moment Shamain wondered if the avatar had left any instructions behind. But no, she doubted the boy had given their prisoners a moment’s thought since their arrival at the temple. He seemed the sort.

Whereas Shamain had very much given thought to them, and what she was about to do.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, girl!” she snapped. “I was helping lead this village while your mother was still in her nappies. Now, are you going to open this door or not?”

“Of course, Priestess!” Both the guards hurried to unlock the door, and a moment later it slid open. Shamain started forward, then almost recoiled. The stench of unwashed bodies, stale air, and an unclean latrine... well, she supposed this was what happened when you left a group of prisoners to languish in a sealed room for several weeks.

Steeling herself, she strode the rest of the way in.

The cultists of Zavastu stared up at her blank expressions. Their room was empty of any and all accommodations, beyond the single lamp that burned on the wall and a small hole in the corner that the avatar had created for them to dump their waste into. Several empty trays sat beside the door, indicating that their mealtime must have been recent.

Shamain nudged these out of the way with her foot, then strode forward to stand over Ligo. The former archon stared up at her, enormous eyes dull and unblinking.

“You. Come with me.” Without another word she strode from the room.

“Priestess, are you certain that’s wise?” The other guard, a Daisa named Yect—at last, a proper guard for once—asked as she walked by. Shamain shot a glower over her shoulder and the man gulped. There were no further complaints.

She only went a short distance down the tunnel to another door. Inside she found what appeared to be more storage, the boxes here containing a noticeable coating of dust.

Still, it was unoccupied, and would serve her purposes.

Spinning, she stuck out a finger and stopped Argas from following her inside. “Stay out here. Make sure that we aren’t disturbed.”

“Of course, Aun—ah, priestess.” Argas shot the forfiliin cultist a dark look as he passed but took up position in the hallway.

The door closed with a soft click, and then she was alone with the archon.

“Has their been word from my mistress?” Ligo asked. There was a note of desperation in his voice that Shamain particularly liked. Desperation meant he’d be more open to negotiating.

“Couldn’t say, nobody tells me anything. But I doubt it. Hasn’t been nearly long enough for your caravan to have made it all the way home by now.”

“I doubt Avina stayed with the caravan. If she remembered her training, she would have made for the nearest—” The archon cut off with a strangled cough, then glowered at Shamain as if it was her fault. Whatever. Shamain didn’t care enough to pry such secrets from him.

“That’s not what we’re here for. Maybe your goddess decides to trade for you, maybe she doesn’t. What do you think your odds of that happening truly are?”

“Once my goddess learns of our plight, she will send her finest to free me and our fellow priests.” Ligo puffed himself up, his eyes bulging. “Tell your avatar that. If you all value your life, you would be better to free us now. Save yourself all a great deal of pain and suffering.”

“Maybe we will, maybe we won’t. What did you do with the children?”

“What?” Her words had apparently thrown the forfiliin off, as she’d intended them to. Confusion darkened his expression. “We took no children from your village, only those capable of surviving the journey, and for being useful once they arrived at the journey’s end.”

“I don’t mean before. Yours is the only room in this temple that hasn’t been searched six times over. So, tell me, are you hiding them?”

“You’re... missing children? Here? In this place?” Ligo glanced around, then turned back to her. “If you allow myself and my fellow priests some freedom to stretch our legs, we’ll gladly help you search. Perhaps we’ll notice something that you missed.”

“Never mind about that.” She could tell by the tone of his voice, the undercurrent of hope and desperation, that he spoke the truth. So, the cult wasn’t responsible. It had been a long shot, but Shamain had to ask. She moved on to the real reason for this visit. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the memory shards. "Recognize these?”

“That’s... where did you get those?”

“One of these I stole from a chest here at the temple,” she said, keeping her voice even. Then she added. “The other, I took off the body of the elder you killed.”

Vividly, she remembered the shock of holding Tervak’s lifeless body in her arms while the avatar had beaten the archon senseless. Watching the last of his life fade away, and then, and then... the crystal had simply appeared on his chest, as if from thin air. Shamain had been so surprised, she’d simply slipped it in her pocket without thinking. Only later had she been glad for her quick reaction.

The avatar had never commented about the crystal’s absence, but she’d seen him devouring enough of them to know they were important to him somehow.

Now she intended to learn just how important.

Ligo glanced at the shards, then back at her. “Why should I tell you anything?”

“Because I have something you want. We both know that Zavastu isn’t going to bow to the demands of some unknown god fresh from the cradle.” She pocketed the stones again. It didn’t escape her notice that the archon’s eyes followed them with a greedy hunger. “You and your fellow priests are never leaving here. Unless someone were to help you escape. So perhaps your question shouldn’t be ‘why should I tell you anything’, but ‘why shouldn’t I tell you everything’?”

She saw a war of emotions cross the forfiliin’s face. He would make a show of resistance, would make further demands of her, try to gain a stronger position.

Bluster, all of it. And wasted. She had him by the balls, and they both knew it. Even such a detestable creature as this should be able to recognize that fact.

But just because he was detestable didn’t mean he wasn’t useful.

“Enough stalling, lad.” She leaned back against a crate, resting her weary bones. “Start talking.”