Chasing Talismans

CHAPTER FOUR

When Divine opened the door to the Sultry Sapphire, sounds collided into her. Thumps of hand drums, the twang of a jaw harp, and the bright arc of vibrations from a bow, accompanied laughter and singing. How did they have the energy to be so merry so late? Her eyelids felt heavy. If the person Viktor saw wasn’t Madeline, she had lost valuable time and energy.

Saph looked up from the bar and smiled, waving. Divine nodded.

“You look exhausted, darling,” Saph commented.

Divine slumped against the bar. “I feel it.”

“I know there’s more to your story but”—she held up a hand—“rather than question you, I’d like to offer you a place to stay.”

Divine glanced at the patrons; several pink-scaled bodies danced on tabletops. Iguion. Their green and black spikes from head to tail broken only by the pillowed clothes they wore. She wondered if these lived in the district with the Iramont pool that showed her their home island. Flopping onto an open stool, she searched Saph’s face. Without her talisman and her magic well, Divine felt no vibrations of emotions against her skin in the air between her and Saph and had to read the sincerity within her face. She did need rest.

Saph bent, aligning their faces. “About earlier. If I made you uncomfortable, I apologize.”

Divine shook her head. “I’m just…I’m still working through my emotions. I’ve been chasing her for five months.”

Saph leaned against the bar and rested her chin on her hands. “You let down your guard. Maybe even found yourself enjoying the evening?”

Divine nodded.

“You deserve to enjoy things.” Saph straightened, wiping the bar.

When in Oberon, she hadn’t even ventured to the riverwalk, instead opting to stay at the inn with other travelers, though even they participated in games and music while Divine watched for Madeline. She missed playing her accordion, but bringing its suitcase size on the road was ridiculous. Not to mention how the dust would cause havoc in its bellows.

“Do you have musicians here often?” Divine asked, casting a longing look at the music-makers.

“Just about every night after sundown. Do you play?”

“Some. I find clarity and a sense of calm through music.”

“Feel free to join any night, though the racket back there is less than calm. Though on Soul’s days, we read poetry at the magic hour so they have to be done early. There’s just something about the time midway between sleeping and rising that seems powerful. Like you’re here but you’re also elsewhere.”

Divine cocked an eyebrow. “We?”

“I write poetry.” Saph pointed a thumb at her chest.

Sylas had loaded up a tray of mugs nearby but paused to lean closer to Divine. “Don’t let the weapon scare you, the boss is really a softy. Ask her to read you the one about how love is like an axe.”

“Sylas, I will make you clean the latrine with your tongue if you reveal any more of my secrets.”

“Well, now I’m curious.” Divine crossed her arms and leaned on the bar.

Saph mirrored the action, bringing their faces close. Divine could feel Saph’s breath on her lips and her stomach fluttered pleasantly.

“That’s a fourth date trade,” Saph said, then pushed away.

Divine tried to keep her disappointment from showing by turning to watch the musicians again. Their song had ended, and the audience alternated between raising their glasses and gulping their contents.

“What did you mean about offering a place to stay?” Divine asked.

“I have blankets. You can sleep on my bedroom floor, no charge. And I really mean just sleep. Don’t get any ideas.” Her uncovered eye winked. “I’ll keep asking around until I close, and in the morning, we take to the streets. Someone is bound to have seen this thief since Viktor.”

“That may not be Madeline,” Divine mumbled, her gaze blurring as she stared at the bar.

“Ah, she’s a notorious thief, then?”

Divine’s gazed slowly focused on Saph. “What do you mean?”

“Since you know her name.”

“I—it’s complicated.”

“These things usually are.” Saph reached below the bar and pulled out a jar. Where Divine would usually hold a container in her hand, Saph nestled it into the crook of her arm then used her five-digited hand to unscrew the cap. She scooped out a sticky substance that might have been honey and dropped the spoon into a mug. She filled it up from the closest keg for a nearby patron. “I know I promised to resist questioning you but, why do you think she’s not who Viktor saw?”

Divine shrugged. “Madeline’s not the only one with that tattoo. And there were two major directions from Oberon, not to mention any number of small villages in any direction. I bet that she’d come here. Disappear in the larger crowd. If she went another way, I’m so behind I may never pick up her trail again.”

Saph wiped her hands on the sides of her long skirt and hopped onto the bar. She swiveled so that her legs hung off the front to the side of Divine. She could get used to Saph’s favorite position.

Saph’s hand lightly touched Divine’s. “I am eager to see if she’s selling in the market like Viktor implied, as it means you and I will get to follow the instructions of the mysterious letter without delay. A deserved vacation from your endless hunt. Give us two more days to find this Madeline before you abandon hope, hm?”

Divine held her breath, fighting back a surge of emotion. She didn’t need to move with the singular urgency of one who had only herself to depend on anymore. But could she trust Saph? The free lodging was definitely tempting.

“Wool makes me itchy.” Divine rotated her hand and squeezed Saph’s fingers gently, hoping to convey her appreciation.

“You’re in luck. I gave my last wool blanket to Viktor.”

* * *

In the morning and slightly less fatigued, Divine exited the tavern with Saph, who left the Sultry Sapphire in the care of Sylus. Not many patrons came until lunchtime, and he wouldn’t really need her until the evening rush. The hunt for her talisman could begin. Divine nearly quivered at the prospect.

As they closed the door behind them, Saph touched Divine’s elbow and steered them toward the rising sun. The city already bustled.

“I have half of an idea to convert the Sapphire to a teashop in the mornings—bake some apple bread and buttered rolls, and brew hot leaves with splashes of milk or honey. Think it would be popular?”

Divine looked back at the shops around the tavern; next door a business had crates and barrels in various states of disassembly stacked to the roof of its small porch and a sign that said “Temporarily Closed” stuck to the door’s window. On the other side, a sign larger than the Sultry Sapphire flashed “Exotic Meats” in gold from the wood carving. Smoke swirled out of a chimney and Divine wrinkled her nose as the faint stench of burnt animal fat wafted on a gust of wind.

“I’ve never seen a place to sit and drink tea. Could work.”

“Perhaps the novelty will draw interest. But, to the task before us. What you said about the Kellas captains got me thinking. We should step into the autumn street market. This time of year, everyone is trying to get rid of the things they didn’t sell earlier. Many vendors, with some coming as far as Pariatan. The regular shops open a bit later to give them an hour of non-competition. Rare Iramont hospitality. Though I think it’s so the shop owners can enjoy the merriment.”

The pair walked in silence until they turned down an alley near the Palfrey Post which led into an open square. Divine wasn’t sure how she missed the alley last night. However, looking closer, canopies swam over carts full of apples, miniature animals made of straw, displays of dried flower wreaths, and colorful quilts serving as living paintings. Children ducked beside their elders as they haggled the price to pay for the last harvest of fresh bustleberries.

In the dashing children, Divine saw herself in her mother’s garden, ribbons in her hand as she made a tail ripple behind a fish made from twigs. There was something there, hidden in the joy of the emotion. A fish that had stopped moving on the bank of a river, Divine touching its smooth scales and the fish leaping to life and into the sparkling water. Or was it just the disarrayed child memory of the ribboned toy and the encouraged pretend play in the safety of her mother’s presence? A tap on her shoulder and Divine looked away from the children, and her memories.

“There’s a jewelry seller over there.” Saph pointed and together, they danced around the shoppers. Divine bumped into a woman as an ear of corn materialized in her hand, the green husk accenting her brown skin.

“Five friggons an ear,” the woman said, tapping her wide nose.

“Uh, no thank you,” Divine mumbled.

The woman, a Nelithorian she now noticed, wore a wide band of orange cloth on her head, distinct to the humans of the northern province. She grabbed Divine’s forearm. “You won’t find a better price in the city.”

“It’s robbery.”

Divine leaned to the right. Behind the Nelithorian, a woman and the apparent source of the insult frowned; a baby snuggled in her arms and a small child gripped her free hand.

The seller rotated to her. “I merely charge what it’s worth.”

“You stand there and create an ear of corn,” the woman replied. “You didn’t labor in the fields to harvest it like the farmers. How dare you charge that price!”

The merchant placed the corn in a woven basket secured in the crook of her other arm. “The nearby farms have been plagued by the black spot. If you want to buy from a farmer, go then. Go north to Oberon just to get some corn and tell me how much you save after you pay for transportation. Or find a farmer who’s traveled here. They are selling for six or seven friggons each.”

The other woman shifted her baby up her shoulder. “You undercut the farmers’ prices. It’s not right. How hard is it for you? You just wave your hand.”

“Ah, confrontational and ignorant. If you had wanted snowshrooms, that requires travel to the northern edge of Nelithor. Do you know how long it takes to travel the length of our land? How much practice it takes to recall a precise image in our minds to then reach through our wells and grab the exact cluster of grain or fruit from the vine that we need? You pay for the skills of a Harvester of the Goddess of Fields as well as the item.”

The mother squinted her eyes and pressed her lips together before whirling away. Divine slipped past the hawker, thankful she couldn’t feel the tension in the air without her talisman, and turned her attention to the jeweler’s booth.

Saph peered at the racks festooned with necklaces swaying in the breeze, their chains and charms tinkling softly.

“Don’t they want to get more followers?” Saph mumbled from the side of her mouth, picking up a bracelet with flutterwing charms made from the pink shells of Solhavn.

“Generally. But she has a point. Exact memory recall is practiced, not a gift from her Goddess. Their memory training starts very young. And they travel to locations they need to memorize. It’s very demanding.”

“Does everyone know this much about the other temples?”

“I needed to know as a Soulshield.” Divine hesitated. “Let’s keep looking.” She kept her eyes on the seller’s wares despite wanting to see Saph’s expression. Could the woman tell she was avoiding the topic?

“Something special I can find you ladies?” The older woman lifted a t-bar display with necklaces dangling. “Two for one special today on all summer blossom pendants.”

“Do you sell any lockets?” Divine asked.

“My specialty is charms and pendants. But,” the woman said, then tapped a finger to her mouth, “I could craft something for you. Add a sliding panel to the back of a carved-out stone, perhaps.”

Divine shook her head. “Thanks for the offer. I was looking for something I’d seen up north.”

“If there’s nothing here to your liking, there is a pawn shop in the Essentials District. But Otto has been out of town. I think he gets back tonight. Bet he has a thing or two from all over Trelvania.”

“I know the place. You probably saw it. The mess next door.” Saph elbowed Divine.

Divine chewed on her lip. The building with the haphazard stack of containers.

“He probably opens up after sunset tonight,” Saph continued. “If she hasn’t already sold it elsewhere, we can catch her then.”

Divine’s heart hiccupped. “Or, or scare her off,” she fumbled, turning from the stall.

“If she goes to Otto’s, he likely wouldn’t sell it until the next night. Otto likes to tidy up any trails, I mean ‘clean up’ whatever he gets for resale.” Saph winked. “We’ve got several hours to occupy. Let me show you one of my favorite autumn traditions.”

Before Divine could protest, Saph hooked their elbows and veered her through the market toward several carts. Divine smelled their contents before she saw them; honey drizzled over apples with cinnamon crumbles and sugar-coated flatnuts. Her mouth watered. Beyond the food vendors, thin blue fabric soared over rows of benches between trees. At the back sat a stage where a partition painted with a meadow scene bracketed either edge.

Saph leaned closer. “There’s this delicious old woman who’s been doing this for ages. Only in the fall. I can’t let you miss it. Then we’ll get back to chasing talismans. My parents brought me here every year when I was a child.”

A Kellas, his whiskers twitching over his cream and grey fur, shook a bag at them from the nearest cart. Unlike the Nelithorian woman, the Kellas seemed to be enjoying himself and his pink lips curled into a feline smile. How different the two races from the same province seemed.

The tavern owner reached into her bodice and removed a small coin purse and held up two fingers. As he touched the white starburst on his chest, Divine protested with a stuttered you-don’t-need-to but Saph insisted, turning her nose up as if that blocked her from seeing anything more from Divine. With a bag of roasted flatnuts in each of their hands, they found a bench near the middle. The pair crunched the sweet morsels as the rows filled with children and adults, their packages and globes swirling with winter and autumn scenes clutched in their sticky hands.

Soon a long, thin bill topped by two protuberant black eyes peeked out from behind the screen.

“Ah, good, good. They’re here,” a voice in falsetto spoke from behind the partition.

The brown and beige speckled head bobbed, attached to a wooden cross by strings and a hand moved above it. Then the hooweet’s webbed feet walked, the feathered body moving forward. A woman followed, bent over as her arms manipulated the strings attached to the wings and feet, though in reality, the bird was flightless. Wrinkles tattooed the performer’s rough skin, a sign of many days in the sun, and her hair shimmered with grey.

“We can start, Mezerie,” the woman, Mezerie, Divine assumed, said in the voice of the island bird. “Does anyone know how many tickles it takes to make a decacacti laugh? Ten-tacles!”

Children’s giggles bubbled into the air. The desert creature popped out from behind the screen, the prickly tentacle-like stems waving.

The creatures continued to interact with the children closest, eliciting laughs and some chuckles from the adults alike. Eventually, both puppets left the stage, and two others appeared; one playing a piano while the other flew around on a fabric book. The woman continued to voice life into each character and Divine found herself grinning.

“Such interesting creations,” Saph whispered after another change in characters. “I wonder where she comes up with them.”

“That one,” Divine said, leaning closer as Mezerie stroked the pink and orange hair that grew from its head down the length of its back, “is a boradain. It is said to be a demon by some of the temples, though it’s just a mythological creature used to tell morality lessons.”

“Spoken from experience?” Saph asked, words brushing Divine’s ear.

Divine glanced over to see Saph’s grin and raised eyebrow. She smiled back, returning her gaze to the show. “That, and I’m a voracious reader.”

“What else are you voracious at?” Saph’s whisper seemed tinted with huskiness.

Divine bit the side of her lower lip, containing her nervous laughter and inward trembling as she fought every urge to face Saph and kiss her.

“There’s this book of creatures, a bestiary, at my temple. But some of them must be made up as I’ve never encountered anyone who’s seen them. Those ones are usually paired with human traits and emotions and instructions for Soulshields on how to influence them. The humans, that is.”

The puppeteer moved the boradain’s four arms with sticks as it walked upright. It looked almost human, though its mouth protruded as if stuck in a forever pucker, and its arms slightly tinted blue. It was large enough for the woman to use one of her arms inside it to open and close the mouth and move its head as it talked, adding another level of reality to the theatrics. If such a creature ever existed, it probably wasn’t prone to hugging with its muscular tetra-arms.

“What does the entry for the boradain say?” Saph asked.

“It’s a lesson to be mindful of your limitations and not to seek more power. I think the connection to the boradain is that four arms are not better than two.”

Saph snickered. “Every tavern owner would argue that is completely false.”

After more puppets, some as large as the puppeteer and others as small as her palm, the show concluded to the sound of laughter. Saph and Divine returned through the market as the crowd disbursed to the vendor stands.

“What’s your favorite creature from that bestiary?” Saph asked as they stepped inside a booth with dried flower arrangements and designs burnt onto wooden bowls and plates.

Divine thought for a moment before the image of a page with a purple stone came into her memory. “One of the more interesting entries was a morality lesson. A water drop and a watering can tended to a garden. One day, they asked the Goddess of Souls to make them a companion who would appreciate their kindness.”

“The watering can talks in this story?”

Grinning, Divine continued. “The Goddess of Souls took a returned soul—a soul that has passed after death into her care and is ready to find rebirth—and gave the soul new life in a bright yellow flower. At the center glowed a purple stone, a soul gem. The flower told them how much it appreciated their care at tending the garden. The yellow flower grew larger and would shade the other flowers on hot days and would use some of its stored water to rain down on the garden. The flower became a guardian, watching out for pests and letting the water drop and watering can know what the garden needed. The flower saw many cycles within the garden grow and watched over them, talking and being friends with its creators.”

Divine’s hand hovered over pink dotted sprigs and bundles of fragrant lavender spindles sticking out of a wooden vase.

“A lesson of…friendship?”

Swiveling, Divine found that Saph stood nearly toe-to-toe with her.

“That Gods and Goddesses working together can create good. I think the water drop was supposed to be the Goddess of Standing Water.”

“And the watering can?” Saph slipped a sprig behind Divine’s ear as she tossed a coin to the stall’s owner.

Averting her eyes, Divine touched the dried flower—she thought she’d seen a blur of yellow—her breath catching at the thought of Saph’s touch.

She swallowed. “I…I’m not sure. The entry was about beings called Elders. Non-sapient creatures like birds, or plants and trees granted some of the powers of a God or Goddess.”

“Talking birds that zap you with lightning before stealing your sandwich. I’m glad that’s not something you see around here.”

“Thankfully they all seemed to be powers of Tranquil Gods, so I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that.”

They did see birds in the market, swooping from tree to building top, but none with the power of storms. Saph’s earlier comment made Divine wonder if coming here since childhood meant she’d always lived here or the general southern half of Trelvania.

“That you’ve memorized so much of that book is remarkable. I often forget my notes for what I need to buy at the grocer for tomorrow’s meal.”

“I had to know about the empathic influence mentioned in the pages,” Divine expanded, feeling more comfortable around the tavern owner the more the day went on. “Between understanding the goals and motivations of each temple, and which emotions branched into other emotions, knowledge was a requirement of all Soulshields.”

“But they didn’t memorize the migratory patterns of black-tailed swillers, did they?”

Divine’s mouth dropped open. “I didn’t tell you—”

“I saw you watching them. It’s not hard to guess. You seem to spend a lot of time up there.” Saph tapped Divine’s forehead. “I think I’ll focus on what makes Divine divine on our next trade of personal knowledge.”

Divine had forgotten how much she knew about the creatures of the Trelvanian continent and surrounding islands until Saph’s compliment. The praise ran through her like warm tarrow-root beer. True, the creatures themselves weren’t something she’d been required to study in the halls of her Goddess, but she had discovered an early interest, nonetheless. Her mother had encouraged her from that first bestiary page.

Eager to think more of Saph and less of the absence of her mother, Divine motioned with her shoulder back out of the tent as an unspoken, “ Shall we?”, and the pair returned to the market’s flow. Divine wanted to know more about the tavern owner.

“Are you originally from Iramont?” Divine asked.

“Yes, I was born here. Had I lived elsewhere, I might have avoided some of the unpleasantness that comes when you are different . People don’t like different.”

As the interaction with the Iguion at Viktor’s tables had shown, the lack of respect for human-adjacents was pervasive everywhere. But Divine didn’t need her magic well to know Saph meant something else.

“You mean your hand, don’t you?”

Saph glanced around long enough Divine thought she was avoiding the question. Scratching the piercing at her helix, Saph spoke again.

“I had the hardest time opening packages as a child, to the amusement of others. I believe children are the products of what they are around. They learn to be mean because they see it. I got tired of answering the same questions, ‘why is your hand different?’ ‘what happened to your hand?’. Then there were those who’d get grossed out if they had to touch me. One time, some of the kids I played with decided to try to make me do things with my hand that they knew required five separate fingers. Stupid things like musical instruments. I never played with them again. They’d get back what they put into the world, I believed. Eventually.”

The autumn festival was even busier as individuals and families ducked in and out of vendor stalls, some admiring while others loaded their arms with bags that contained purchases. Saph pointed out interesting items, but Divine found she stared more at Saph than the wares. Despite her humor, there was a softer side beneath it all.

Hungry bazaar-goers stood in line for fire-roasted meats on a stick and toasted sugar puffs that were practically melting off their spears. Divine noted that the variety of food seemed less than what she’d seen at other years’ fall markets in Arosia.

“Seems many are impacted by the black spot.” Divine nodded to a large smoker wafting grey musical staves into the air. “What about your tavern?”

“It has caused my prices to increase. It’s harder to find some of the food, as you saw with the corn kerfuffle. But overall, I’m not too impacted. Most of my alcohol is made in the north. And I’ve switched my menu to roots.”

“Just…roots?”

“Most of the root vegetables seem to be fairing better right now. So, roots are on the table. Some of the other restaurants get their stuff further north, but they need different ingredients. People going to drink their sorrows in beer aren’t looking for a flaky pastry with berry jam and scrambled eggs.”

Someone bumped into Divine’s side, and she staggered forward, bouncing into Saph.

Saph’s grinned and her hand wrapped around Divine’s, pulling her through the crowd. They were opposite where they had entered and Divine could see another alleyway that exited onto an unknown street. But Saph paused in front of a stall where a woman was explaining her merchandise to a small group.

“You can write or draw whatever you want to,” the woman said as she brushed strokes across a canvas on an easel. “No one would see it.”

The woman swiveled away, arm stretched in presentation, inviting everyone to look. Her canvas remained blank.

“Only with this”—she held up a yellow triangle frame that stretched from her chest to the top of her head and poked her head through the shape—“will the ink be revealed.”

Lowering the frame, she placed a crystal within a slot at each vertex. As the last one was placed, the empty space within the triangle lit with orange light like the thin fabric of a veil. The woman held the triangle over her canvas and within the light a painting of the God of Storms’s symbol appeared: a swirling vortex over a wagon wheel that had the head of an anvil for spokes. Several people uttered appreciative oohs.

“Now of course, you won’t need a large one if you are just writing secret letters to your friend. Which is why I offer this handheld version. Pocket Secrets , thirty-five friggons a piece.”

Behind her, Divine heard another merchant giving a similar demonstration. She rotated and watched as a man placed a large mirror upright on parchment laid across a table.

“Each piece I craft is unique and to your specifications,” he said, withdrawing several pens and brushes from his gray apron.

While she couldn’t see what he was writing on the paper, she saw the reflection in the mirror. Ornamental letters took the shape of buildings and creatures in black ink. The Y Divine was convinced looked like a mermaid tail. The artist added shimmering gold and purple to the design, then stepped to the side.

In the mirror it read imaginary . But on the paper, the curved descenders of the letters pointed the opposite way than they should, and the word started with the letter y. It was backward. The writing felt familiar but Divine couldn’t place it.

“This would be clever for writing arousing love letters.”

Saph’s voice in her ear made Divine turn.

“Hm?” Divine questioned, trying to focus. Did Saph just say something about arousal?

“You could write exceptionally specific compliments about how someone’s nether regions are as sweet as honey and never fear someone seeing those private messages.”

“Unless the person also had a Pocket Secret.”

“Oof, and half of the people watching are buying one. Good point. What’s over there?”

“Calligraphy? I think.”

“Well, I’m starving. Let’s get some of that meat on a stick while we wait for Otto’s shop to open.”

After food, the two women checked stores Saph identified that would purchase instead of make their goods without success in locating Divine’s locket. Eventually, they made their way to the main street as the sun tilted low. At Saph’s suggestion, they approached the pawn shop. Thuds and clinking seeped out of the shop in a mermaid song for collectors. Saph rapped on the door.

“Not open!” a muffled yell answered. “Come back tomorrow.”

“Otto! I’ve missed your sounds of clutter. Have a nice journey?”

“Yes, yes. But I’m busy.”

“I hear that. Look, I wanted to see if you’ve gotten any—”

A crash like cymbals exploded from the shop.

“Is this normal?” Divine questioned quietly, hoping no injuries accompanied the racket. Even without her well, she wanted to do something to help if he was hurt.

“Excessively so,” the woman whispered back, then cupped her hands around her mouth. “Chat tomorrow?”

“Yes, yes.”

“Great! Come by anytime, drinks on me.” Saph thumbed over her shoulder, and they turned toward the tavern. “He’ll come by. The man can’t resist free drinks.”

Divine nodded, her feet slowing. The day was ending. If the Goddess of Souls still watched over her, soon she’d have her talisman. A quick quest then she would follow the Spine of Trelvania back north, the white of its peaks beginning to spread to lower elevations this time of the year.

Her stomach tightened and flipped as Saph moved a few steps ahead. If she was this close to placing her talisman back around her neck, why was she nervous? This was what she wanted. The mountain to her west pointed homeward. Back to her life as a Soulshield of the Arosian Temple of Souls. If she could successfully appeal their judgement that she went renegade.

But as Saph paused, the outline of her face turned into the setting sun backlit like a painting enhanced by the Deity of Night and Art’s Creators, and her uncovered eye searching over Divine, Divine realized the flutterwings in her stomach weren’t all talisman related.

“I really appreciate all this”—Divine scratched the back of her head—“helping me find my talisman and everything.”

“The sooner you do, the sooner I can get that reward I’m promised.”

Divine nearly melted from Saph’s smile. “I know. But…the show, the sweets. You didn’t—I just—I had a wonderful time.”

She took a deep breath, staring into Saph’s eye. Taking a step forward, her hand unsteady, she reached for Saph. The raven- haired woman took Divine’s hand in hers. Her blood raced around her chest like bugs scurrying before a storm. In unison, they stepped closer to each other, their faces a mere breath away. Divine licked her lips and swallowed.

“I did as well,” Saph said quietly. “It was a pleasure. One I hope to…outdo on our third date.”

Divine wiggled a booted foot before replying, “Was this our second date?”

Saph grinned. “I keep surprising you. Very well, for a third date I will leave the inviting up to you. This way you cannot possibly be bereft of knowledge of it occurring.”

“I have enjoyed your surprises so far.” Divine hesitated. “Please don’t stop because I’m out of practice.”

Saph brought the back of Divine’s hand to her lips. “Practicing is the most fun.”

Divine’s muscles quivered as Saph pressed a kiss to the knuckle below the moonstone wrapped in silver leaves around Divine’s index finger. Her mouth parted as her breath quickened.

“If I recall, I made a promise to share a secret on this date,” Saph continued.

Divine raised her eyebrows but couldn’t pry her gaze from Saph’s lips.

“Are you adequately intrigued?” Saph questioned.

“And can’t recall the promise.”

“How I once chased down people for a living. I was a mercenary. You know, jilted lover wants her husband found and his balls ripped off. That sort of thing. I was rather high-ranking before I quit. Chased people like your bandit.”

Stiffening, Divine looked toward the Holy District’s connecting street, though Saph continued talking. “Though yours hasn’t left us many clues, I feel we are about to find her.”

Divine let her hand drop from Saph’s grip, a stone tumbling down the mountainside.

“And I probably shouldn’t have brought her up. Shit. I’m sorry,” Saph apologized.

Divine looked past the buildings to their side. Over their vined and mossy roofs, the various temples’ domes and towers peaked. The Goddess of Souls and the Goddess of Condemnation rising higher than all the others. The God receives a boost from their well.

“It’s possible she means to keep it and is back at her Goddess’s sanctuary,” Divine said at last, thinking of the Goodly One’s experience with stolen talismans.

“I thought she wanted to sell it?”

“I learned something last night that has me second guessing.”

“Go on.”

Divine bit her lower lip and her stomach flipped at the way Saph’s eye focused on the action. “I dismissed it at first as the words of someone who’d jump at their own shadow. But as I’ve thought about it, it makes sense.” Divine told Saph what the Goodly One had said about stolen talismans.

“So, this thief is partnered with your rival temple.”

“You could say that.”

“Hm. Let’s rule out the selling idea with Otto and then we can look into this, yeah? Staying on one trail always helped while I was a mercenary. First rule of mercenaries, beware the side quests.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Divine flicked her eyes to her walking companion, yearning still lingering to have their lips meet, but the moment became paint washed from a canvas by a thundercloud, pooling beneath their feet to cling in droplets to their soles; perhaps evidence would be left as footprints.

* * *

As the setting sun bathed the tavern in an orange and pink glow, Saph signaled (a series of eyepatch scratches and adjusting of her bodice previously determined by the bar owner) for Divine to join the patrons at the tavern.

With the steps of someone who simply wanted a drink, Divine slid onto an open stool and saluted with two fingers. Saph approached and poured a frothing mug of tarrow-root beer while indicating with a side nod two men down the row. Divine listened while attempting to appear focused on imbibing herself.

“She tried to sell me a holy relic, of all things. Bad luck to deal in relics of the Goddess of Souls,” one of the men said.

“How did you know it was a relic?” Saph prompted, leaning forward with interest.

“It was a classic pendant of the followers, you know the one—a waxing crescent with a sword.”

“Very astute, Otto.” The raven-hair woman bopped the man on his nose with a finger for emphasis.

Divine choked and sputtered into her mug while the man next to her thumped her back for good measure.

“But it was a locket. Never seen one as a locket.” The man shrugged. “Anyway, I told her to take it to the temple of Souls. Good riddance.”

Saph turned her attention to another patron but not before winking at Divine.

“Don’t want to offend the deities. Especially not the top five.” A woman next to Otto said signaling Sylus for a refill. “Had a cousin visiting the Dagal Hot Springs up in Spine of Trelvania. He’d recently broken up with his girlfriend. She’s a follower of the God of Storms, you see. Anyway, a blizzard came out of nowhere. Stranded him up there a whole week. She claims she wasn’t involved but…” she took several gulps from her mug.

“Potato soup. Again?” the man who’d patted her back bemoaned into his bowl.

Sylus leaned his hip on the other side of the bar. The posture gave Divine and the man a wide view of his chest muscles through the opening of his shirt. “It has turnips and carrots, too. It’s still tasty. Unless you’d rather eat veggie bread?”

“No, no. Condemnation on this black spot. I’m just tired of the same root vegetables every day.”

“I’ll put it in a pot pie next time,” Sylus said, slinging a cloth over his shoulder.

“Different shape doesn’t change the taste.”

“You’d be surprised. Gravy makes everything better.”

The conversation near Otto veered toward the weather, and satisfied with the information, Divine downed the rest of her drink and retreated to a corner table for the rest of the evening, the contents of her stomach churning as much as her thoughts. Tomorrow she would close this book of suffering.