33

Ersgath was nothing like the little villages she and Kel had passed on their way here. Kyokami, Lokokami, and the others had all been built off of the same basic plan; stone buildings, a single temple, and small fields of crops crowded in wherever the forest had been clear cut. The villages were compact and neat, as if someone had pasted copies of them every few miles along the road.

Ersgath was a sprawling beast. The buildings were a mishmash of wood and stone. She could see echoes of the same architecture in the stone buildings with their stately, square structure and small, deep-set windows, but the wooden buildings had simply been built where they could fit. Sometimes they acted as second or third story extensions to the older stone buildings, and in other places they were crowded in between two other buildings or so sprawling they took up a whole block, more like estates than singular buildings. There was no clear edge of town; the buildings just gradually got more sparse and changed from residential and storefronts to properties that were focused more on productions, such as blacksmiths and butchers.

It was crowded and, frankly, it stank. Livestock stood in crowded pens awaiting slaughtering and dogs seemed to wander at will. The cats were everywhere; she saw them on rooftops and napping on the canopies of the various stalls and winding around people's ankles, begging for food.

Even as they drew further into the town, she still saw cramped cages full of squawking chickens and a few crates that held the larger galas, which let out shrill whistles that made her ears ring. She quickly realized Ersgath had more plumbing than the small villages did, but just as quickly found herself wishing it didn't, because the sewers were open channels that flowed sluggishly on either side of the street, full of garbage and the bloated carcasses of rats and things she would rather not think about.

Aeliana seemed just as overwhelmed as she felt. The mare whinnied and threw her head back when a pair of yowling, fighting cats tumbled into the road in front of them. Lyra grabbed the front of the saddle to keep from falling off, and only breathed again when Kel grabbed the horse's bridle and pulled her head down and ran his hand down her cheek, murmuring soothing words.

"I will lead her for now," he told Lyra. "She is not used to this much commotion."

She nodded mutely, glad to let him take control. He took her reins and they resumed walking, though this time Lyra kept a grip on the front of the saddle in case Aeliana startled again.

"Where are we going?" she asked, raising her voice so Kel could hear her over the sound of the shop owners calling out, the barking dogs, and the general din of the busy town. "To The Northern Path?"

"To the Temple of Loreas, first." He paused. "I think it is the temple you will be most comfortable staying at. My sister liked it the most of any in Ersgath. If you wish to visit the other temples first, we can do so. Those with holy blood may stay for free in any temple with the space for them."

She blinked. She hadn't stopped to think about where she would stay when they finally got here, and it hadn't occurred to her that Kel would assume she would stay in a temple. She opened her mouth to ask if they could go to an inn instead, since she wasn't sure she wanted to interact with more gods until she had to, but then she remembered that she had exactly zero money. Some of the coins Galin said said the people of Lokokami gave Kel were probably technically hers, but he was going to use them to buy a horse and supplies for the rest of their journey to Heliotheopoli.

She didn't know if they would still need to go all the way to the city, but if Milo and Erik didn't know why they were here or how to get home, she wasn't going to just give up. She refused to jeopardize the rest of their journey just because she didn't want to stay in a temple for free.

"How many temples does Ersgath have?" she asked instead.

"Five," he replied. "They are all larger than the temples in the villages you have seen so far, and each of them has its own clergy; priests and priestesses who have devoted themselves to the temple god. Your tunic marks you as one of the wandering clergy, those who have not devoted themselves to any particular god and spend their lives traveling from place to place, helping at the temples and shrines that do not have their own clergy."

With an odd twist of nerves, she realized that for the first time, she was going to meet another person who could see the gods. Well, other than Nira. Would they be able to tell she was from another world entirely? Would it matter? Kel had seemed completely unbothered when he learned she was from somewhere else, but then Kel seemed unbothered by almost everything except mentions of his sister's death.

Maybe it would be smartest to keep her origins secret, but there was a chance that the priests or priestesses she met at the temple Kel was taking her to might be able to help her. The more she thought about it, the more she came to the conclusion that her being from another world, while interesting, might not be as earth-shattering here as it would have been at home. One of the first things Kel said when she gained the ability to talk to him was that very little was impossible.

Miracles probably weren't that interesting when they happened every day.

The clear ringing of a bell drew her out of her thoughts. Kel, who was leading Aeliana toward what seemed to be the main intersection in the center of town, urged the horse closer to the crossroads, pushing through a group of people as if they weren't there. A few of them turned on him, angry, but immediately backed away and bowed when they saw her.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

"My apologies, priestess. I did not mean to get in your way," one muttered.

She gave them a guilty nod, and once they were past, she lowered herself over the mare's neck to hiss at Kel, "That was rude! You can't just shove people aside like that."

He eased Aeliana to a halt right at the corner of the intersection and gave her an amused look. She could only tell by how his eyes crinkled; he was a master of not showing much emotion, but two weeks of him being her only steady companion had given her masterful insight into his body language.

"I forget, sometimes, that you were not born to this life. Forgive me for my rudeness, but I thought you would like to see this. Do you hear that bell ringing? It is the sound of an Aketian migration coming through along the North Road. They pass through the Helioclades only twice a year; at the end of summer to travel north for the season of rain, and at the end of winter to return to the river delta for the dry season."

She had heard the Aketian people mentioned a few times, and had even learned a few words and phrases in their language, thanks to Kel, but she didn't actually know that much about them. Despite feeling bad about just shoving their way to the front of a crowd of people, her curiosity was piqued. She looked to her left — the south — down the road in the direction the sound of the bell was coming from, and realized several things simultaneously; all the traffic on both roads had stopped. People were gathering at the edge of the west-east road as if they were about to watch a parade, but the north-south road was completely clear… to the north, at least.

A procession was approaching from the south. A man rode at the head of it on a creature she could only ogle at. His mount wasn't a horse, but a giant bird. Its head towered what must have been ten or twelve feet in the air, and its feathers were a stark, pure white, almost blinding in the sunlight. It had the sharp, hooked beak of a raptor, and curved talons as long as her arm on its scaled, four-toed feet. Around its breast it wore sky-blue and gold ornamentation, which served to secure the high-backed saddle the man on its back was sitting on.

The bird had no reins or visible method of controlling it, and its rider was leaning casually against the chair-like back of the saddle, his arms crossed as he observed the gathered observers haughtily. Another man walked beside the bird, ringing a golden bell that let out a high, clear tone every few steps.

Behind them was the rest of the procession; there were a lot of people, maybe a hundred or more, some of them riding birds or carts drawn by cattle, but she only glanced at them before her eyes were drawn back to the man who was riding the white bird at the front of the procession.

He had warm bronze skin, darker than anyone else she had seen so far, and his curly hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, braided through with shining gold strands. He was bare-chested, but wore a white cloak around his shoulders, an ornamental golden collar around his neck and, beneath it, a long leather necklace around his neck upon which hung what looked to her like average rocks the size of peach pits. His legs were tucked under the flightless bird's wings, but from what she could see of his pants, they were white with gold embroidery.

He looked like a king. He looked like someone who she would read about in a romance novel. He did not look like someone who would ever give a second glance to someone like her, sweaty and dusty from the road, clinging inexpertly to the saddle on the back of a plowhorse led by a man in damaged armor.

But as he drew nearer to the intersection, his bird's large, clawed feet sending up a puff of red dust with every stately step, his eyes landed on her and he raised a fist to the sky. The procession behind him slowed to a stop and the man with the bell stopped ringing it. The crowd around Lyra fell eerily silent, but the people behind him continued to laugh and chat as if this was nothing out of the ordinary.

The man on the bird moved forward alone. Beneath Lyra, Aeliana shifted. She could see the mare's skin twitching, and as the bird drew closer, she pinned her ears back and snorted. Only Kel's grip on the reins kept her from backing away. He raised his free hand to stroke her neck soothingly, but managed to bow to the man on the bird as he did so.

The man ignored him, his gaze only on her as his bird halted at an invisible command fifteen or so feet away. Lyra felt a twinge of irritation, though her sudden nerves mostly drowned it out. It didn't sit right with her how everyone ignored Kel in favor of her. He hadn't shown any sign that it bothered him, but it had to be annoying to experience.

"Lutum i auras, priestess." He inclined his head to her, very slightly, and to Lyra's shock, she recognized one of the Aketian phrases Kel had taught her a few days ago. It was a greeting that wished her peace and prosperity.

She bowed back, as low as she dared while she was on horseback, and responded, "Lutum dras auras," which was the formal response that meant 'peace brings prosperity.'

When she straightened, she saw a look of mild surprise flash across his face. A moment later, he responded with a string of Aketian that she didn't know.

"Sorry, I only know a few phrases," she admitted, feeling her face heat up.

"Ah, well, that is more than most of the sun-people bother to learn," he said, with a surprisingly warm laugh. "It has been over a year since I've seen someone with holy blood wearing a green tunic. Your people are far too fond of your acts of devotion. Where do your wanderings take you, priestess?"

"I'm going to Heliotheopoli," she said, then belatedly ducked her head and added, "Sir." The culture she came from wasn't one that was big on respect and social hierarchy, at least not outside of the workplace, but this man clearly demanded respect.

He grinned, his teeth as white as the bird he sat on. "You're less haughty than most of us are. A humble priestess! You're as rare as a white creche." He patted one of his bird's wings, and she spotted a hooked claw hidden in the feathers. She jumped when the bird ducked its head suddenly, but it was only preening its chest. "You do not know much about Aketian culture, I assume."

She shook her head. She was keenly aware of hundreds of pairs of eyes on her; the crowd of locals was staring shamelessly, and some of the people in the man's procession were watching with mild curiosity, as if she was a rarely colored cat.

"Only those with holy blood can lead our flocks, and in these waning years, we grow more and more rare and precious. If you have ever wished for a new life, humble priestess, join us, and within a decade you will ride your own war-creche and lead your own flock on our endless journey between the floods and the high places in the hills."

She could only stare at him, wondering if his offer was serious, or this was some cultural thing she didn't understand.