Chapter 21

Belili trod carefully in the darkness. The ritual had eaten up a lot of the strength she had recovered during her short sleep the night before. I shouldn't talk to gods on an empty stomach, she thought and had to giggle. Surprised, she touched her lips. I must be really tired. 

Her foot caught on a stone and she took two tumbling steps before regaining her balance. Exhaustion was catching up with her. When this is all over, I will sleep for a week. Or be dead.

The noises of many people made her look up. Beyond the crest of the next hill, light illuminated the night sky. How big was the bandit camp? Not that it mattered at this point. Maybe when Urk first brought her out of town, she could have run away – if she could have brought herself to leave Saras behind. Now it was too late. She had made bargains with two gods, binding her to this path, even if it would likely kill her.

With a sigh, she began hiking up the hill. One of her sandals sat loose, the strap having ripped during her last stumble. I am too hungry to run anyway.

Reaching the crest, a small valley spread out in front of her. Low hills on three sides protected an open water somewhere between a waterhole and a tiny lake in size. Two dozen fires spread out from it on the unprotected side of the valley. At their center close to the water stood two big tents, looking foreign in style. 

Before Belili could take in more details somebody grabbed her from behind. 

"Who are you?" a voice asked so close to her ear, she could smell the sweet odor of rotten gums. 

Seems like he is really not here, Belili thought. True to his word Urk had left before she conducted the ritual and judging by the fact that he hadn't warned her of the sentries hiding in the darkness, he probably hadn't dared to return to her side even after it was done and she had left the abandoned farm behind. At least he helped me with the circle and the incantation

"I am Belili," she said. "I snuck out of town to meet the Epi-khmet."

"Really?" another somewhat older voice asked. "And how did you do that?"

"I have something for them," Belili said, ignoring the question. "Something important."

The older man stepped out of the darkness and looked down at her. "I guess it is in here?" He reached for the cloth bag Belili carried across her chest. 

"You cannot touch that," Belili exclaimed and tried to retreat, but the foul-mouthed man held her in place.

The older man pulled the bag open and started to rummage inside. 

"The Epi-khmet will be angry if you touch that," Belili said, trying to sound as convincing as she could.

Foulmouth snickered. "Maybe we just have our fun with you and bring them the bag afterward. If it is so valuable, there is probably a reward, right?"

I cannot let you do that, Belili thought. "It is cursed."

Both men froze. 

In the dark, she could barely see the older man's features but his eyes stared down at her considering her words. Who wouldn't take the threat of a curse seriously?

After a couple of heartbeats, he cooked his head. "Your tunic is ripped and you are all scrawny." He reached down, taking one of her hands. "Calluses from hard labor. Those are not the soft hands of a priestess. If there was a curse, it would have gotten you first." His other hand retrieved the box. 

"What is that?" foulmouth asked, blowing more of the rotten stench past Belili's nose. "Hey, what are you mumbling there, girl?"

The older bandit turned the box in his hands. "How do you open this?" He gave it a little shake.

"Can you not feel the grove of the lid?" the younger man asked, curiosity and greed drawing his attention away from Belili, allowing her to finish the spell she had learned only hours before. When the last syllable left her mouth, a short shiver ran through her body and she could feel the hair on her arms standing up. 

"I can feel it here," the older bandit said, running his thumb along the side of the box. "But it… " He gagged, leaned forward, and threw up violently. 

The man holding Belili jumped back, pulling her with him. "By Urk, what is wrong with you? What is wrong with him?"

Feeling his grip loosen, Belili tore herself away and took the wooden box out of the sick man's hand. He didn't resist, falling to his hands and knees a heartbeat later when more vomit forced itself up his throat.

"Hey!" The other man shouted. "What is wrong with him? What did you do?" His voice was panicked and his head turned back and forth between Belili and his gagging comrade. 

"He is cursed," Belili said, pushing the box into her bag. "You must bring me to the leaders of the Epi-khmet as quickly as possible." She had to convince the fearful bandit before he decided that it might be safer to just cut her throat. "We need to hurry!" 

"I… I did not touch it," the younger man said. "You did this!"

"The gods are watching us," Belili said. "We need to fulfill their will to lift the curse." She gestured toward the camp. Behind her, the older bandit rolled to the side only half concise at this point. 

The younger man finally made up his mind. "Yes, follow me." He turned and hurried down the hill toward the camp so fast, that Belili had to jog to keep up. 

Once they reached the first fires several men called out to foulmouth, but he waved them off, heading straight for the two big tents standing close to the lake. 

Belili kept her head down, trying not to meet anybody's eyes. She had heard many times what bandits did to women.

The camp was fairly quiet. They had the attention of most of the men sitting around the fires but what she saw from the corner of her eyes was neither greed nor lust. The men looked wary and tired, even haunted. Some had bloody rags wrapped around limbs or heads. 

These men are not happy with their situation, Belili thought. Then her attention was drawn by a tall figure dressed in the traveling tunic of the Epi-khmet warriors, stepping into their path.

He looked from Belili to her guide who avoided the warrior's gaze. 

"She… this girl wants to see your leaders," foulmouth stammered. "She is bringing you something."

The warrior gave Belili another long stare as if judging how much of a threat she represented. "Follow," he said finally, turning toward the tent. 

The young bandit stepped to the side and Belili walked past him. 

"Both of you," the warrior said, without looking back.

His slumping shoulders told Belili that this was the last thing her guide had wanted to hear but he complied immediately, falling in behind her. 

Epi-Khmet warriors carrying spears and bows surrounded the small camp within the camp on all sides, making it impossible for anybody to sneak up on the tents. A bit to the side a couple of figures worked around a cooking fire. From their clothing and posture, it was clear that these weren't fighters. Most of them seemed to be women. 

Did the Epi-khmet bring their own servants? Belili thought. It seemed strange considering they had been hunting master Jas'ar all this way north but then again maybe they had to provide them to that woman. 

The warrior leading them held up his hand. "Wait." He stepped through the tent flap, leaving Belili and the bandit huddling behind her alone. 

Unable to see inside, Belili studied her surroundings. There was a significant gap between the small Epi-khmet camp and the closest fires of the bandits that hadn't been visible from the hill. It was hard to say if it was a security measure by the warriors or if the outlaws just tried to keep their distance. Probably both, she thought. Judging by the haunted expressions these men are not very enthusiastic about being here. The bands might have been attracted by the prospect of rich loot but now they found themselves trapped between a walled town and whatever forces the Epi-khmet employed to keep them in check. 

Belili couldn't even guess how they kept the men from vanishing into night but she had seen enough magic in the last couple of days to believe that the Epi-khmet had their ways. 

A single figure carrying a tray broke away from the group working around the cooking fire and came toward them. When she stepped into the light of the single brazier outside the tent entrance she froze in place. 

"Belili?" Tala whispered almost inaudible. 

Thrown by the unexpected encounter, it took Belili a heartbeat to react. When she opened her mouth to respond, the tent flap parted and the warrior waved her in. 

"Come," he said. "All of you."

Belili closed her mouth and turned away from Zabu's wife. She must have been captured during the night attack, she thought. Maybe Ninkar and the others are here too.

For a short moment, the faces of all the people they had left behind that night rushed through her mind. Her people. 

She stepped through the tent flap held open by the tall warrior and pushed these thoughts aside. She had to focus on the here and now or she would die and so might anybody she knew. 

The tent's inside was illuminated by several oil lamps and Belili could see that the Epi-khmet had made an effort to make their leader comfortable. The design of the furniture, carpets, and hangings was familiar. It had likely been looted from the richer farms surrounding Urk. 

Belili had no time to take in more of her surroundings, as the attention of the three waiting figures turned to her. Under their eyes, she immediately felt an intangible pressure and she had to fight the instinct to make herself as small as she could.

Behind her, the bandit dropped to his hands and knees and Tala bowed as deep as the tray she was carrying allowed. 

Do they feel the pressure even stronger? Belili wondered. 

"Who are you?" asked the person on the right, a warrior with one arm in a sling and the other resting on the pommel of his sickle sword. Belili recognized him as the man who had addressed the town elders at the gate. 

Emareth, Belili thought, remembering the man's name. Did he get hurt during the night attack? 

Before Belili could answer, the man on the left said something in the language of the Epi-khmet. Clearly not a fighter, he was tall but thin - almost haggard - and wore a wide, richly decorated robe. Unlike the warriors with their thick braids protruding from the side of their otherwise shaven heads, his head was covered with a type of headscarf, held in place by a golden ring. In his hand, he held some kind of scepter, slightly shorter than a sickle sword. 

The warrior at the tent entrance began to respond but a raised hand by the last of the three people facing Belili silenced him immediately.

Standing almost two heads shorter than the men flanking her, the young woman still somehow managed to overshadow them with her presence. Her dress was rich and spotless, having no resemblance to the practical traveling clothes her subordinates wore. And they were her subordinates, that was immediately clear. 

Her eyes, Belili thought, her throat growing dry. They were light brown, almost yellow, and striking. Beautified with the most elaborate makeup, they burned above the light veil hiding her face with an angry intensity. 

Having taken control of the room with a single gesture, the woman lowered her hand and pointed at the cloth bag hanging around Belili's neck. "I sense a familiar scent." 

The tent fell silent. It took even her followers three heartbeats to realize that she was done talking. 

The thin man was the first to react. He pointed his scepter at Belili and spoke a couple of words to the warrior behind her who immediately stepped forward.

Belili almost panicked then and there. You cannot freeze, she chided herself, trying to fight the pressure emanating from the veiled woman's eyes. You only have one opportunity to get this right. Move!

Maybe it was her training with Urk or her fear for Saras, but somehow Belili managed to push back against the force weighing on her and take a single step forward. 

Emareth eyebrows shot up and he moved to intercept her.

"Goddess," she said, dropping to her knees in front of the young woman. "I am a messenger. I am bringing you what is yours." Seemingly ignoring the warrior, whose hand hovered hesitantly over the handle of his sword, she quickly retrieved the wooden box from her bag and held it up with both hands. 

Her eyes shining eagerly, the Epi-khmet goddess slowly reached down.

"No! Do not touch it."

The goddess paused, her gaze turning to the spot behind Belili's left shoulder. 

It had been foulmouth's voice.

"That thing is cursed," the bandit stammered. "It… it killed my brother."

No, take it, Belili thought. Please, open it! 

The goddess shook her head almost imperceptibly and returned her attention to the girl kneeling in front of her. 

Her eyes downcast, Belili could only hear the smack and the muffled cry of pain behind her. She pressed her lips together. They were so close and that bandit could still ruin everything. 

Just take it, Belili thought. Take it and it will be done. It will not be on me anymore.

She waited tensely, staring at the ground. She waited to feel the slight shift in weight when the goddess touched the box to open it or take it from her hands. Her heart drummed in her ears and the moment stretched. 

After what felt like an eternity but probably hadn't been more than a couple of heartbeats Belili's nerves failed and she carefully glanced up.

The goddess stood over her, her hand outstretched, her fingertips almost touching the lit. But she hesitated, her yellow-brown eyes narrowed to slits.

Then her fingers curled back into a fist and she leaned forward bringing her veiled face within a handsbreadth of the lit, closing her eyes.

She sniffed. 

Belili couldn't see the goddess's mouth but when the woman's eyes opened again and met hers, she could guess the vicious smile forming below the veil. 

I should lower my eyes, Belili thought but found that she wasn't able to break contact. 

"Do you know how we were able to follow that thief all the way here?" the goddess asked. "Does he even know?"

Belili took a moment to respond, to fight down the panic. "…no." What could she do now?

The goddess' hand made an elegant gesture as if she were waving the scent of the box to her nose. "Those from the line of Nemki were always cunning and resourceful. Much more so than our own high priests." She nodded lightly in the direction of the thin man behind her. "He hid his trail well but a jackal's nose is hard to deceive."

As she spoke those words the eyes holding Belili's suddenly changed. It only lasted for the blink of an eye but for that time the goddess' irises became the shining yellow dots of a nightly predator. 

Belili wanted to shirk back but found that she couldn't, the invisible force holding her in place. Cornered, she considered breaking her compact with Urk and employing one of the spells he had taught her. But would those even work on her? She thought desperately. 

The goddess seemed to be satisfied with whatever she saw in Belili's reaction. "Yes, he hid his own stench well enough." She made a little pause before nodding toward the box. "He hid his own but he could not completely hide my father's on the weights."

Belili's back grew cold as she understood.

"They are not in there, are they not?" the goddess Bechek asked slowly. "Which means the sage has put a nasty surprise in there." She tilted her head, regarding Belili. Then she placed one hand on Belili's head and brought her face close to her hair, sniffing twice. "The scent is on you, little mortal. What did you do with them?"

Belili started to quiver. The plan – her plan – had failed. Bechek had guessed the trap and now she would wring the truth from her. 

No! Belili thought. I cannot let this happen.

But what could she do? Under the pressure of the goddess' attention, she couldn't move. She tried to reach for one of Urk's spells but the words wouldn't come to her lips. Was this Bechek's power or was the compact with the god of wells hindering her? She couldn't tell. She knew so very little.

There has to be a way out. Think Belili, think!

And then it came to her. There was one last thing she could do.

She gathered all the willpower that had gotten her to the past couple of days and all her fear and desperation, for one last effort. 

Goddess Bechek, she mentally screamed. Behind you!