The Alabaster Staff by Edward Bolme Page B

consequence,” said the priestess. “Tiamat was the only deity who cared for Unther. She ended this land’s oppression.”
    “Unther did fine under Gilgeam for thousands of years. Oppression hardens us. A weaker people would buckle under the strains we rejoice in.”
    “You learned that from your mother, or your priest,” observed the matron.
    “Kind of both,” Kehrsyn answered.
    The priestess thought more, and said, in a very professorial tone, “If Unther thrives under oppression, then you should not fear power. Why, then, do you fear us?”
    “Gilgeam protected us,” said Kehrsyn, “and we gladly bore his yoke. Your religion worships the Queen of Dragons. You hold dragons in awe. You want to be just like them, and yet dragons protect nothing but their own hoard, killing anything that’s a threat. So of course I fear you. Why wouldn’t I, when your people greet me with blades?”
    So saying, she silently opened the latch of the door behind her, ready to tumble out in the street screaming for help.
    The priestess stood silently for a moment, then clucked her tongue.
    “You are a very brave young woman,” she said.
    “Not really,” Kehrsyn admitted. “I just try to hide my fear.” She didn’t add that she also always tried to have a back-up plan handy.
    The priestess nodded and said, “Hiding your fear
is
bravery.” She took a deep breath and rocked on her heels.“I think I like you. You rather remind me of me when I was younger.
    “At least,” she added with a wry smile, “you remind me of how I prefer to think of myself when I was your age.
    “You may go. If any of my people cause you any grief, tell them that you have the sufferance of Tiglath. That should spare you any trouble not of your own devising.”
    She waved her hand at the door, nodded ever so slightly, turned, and walked away.
    “Thank you,” said Kehrsyn to the priestess’s departing back.
    The others stood back and let Kehrsyn fetch her cloak and leave.
    She opened the door and peered around to look for the cordon of guards. Though the rain had petered out, the streets were growing dark. She saw the torches of the guards some blocks away and felt safe to exit. She shut the door behind her and stepped down the stairs, clutching her left arm just below the shoulder in an attempt to throttle the throbbing pain.
    Messemprar after nightfall was a far quieter place. Though there was no official curfew, the populace stayed indoors anyway. The weather was miserable, the overcrowded conditions taxed the soul, and the chronic hunger and the fear of war left little gaiety in the hearts of its residents. Even if people were in the mood to celebrate, there was nothing to do it with. The taverns carefully rationed out their overpriced ales, and often they ran dry and had to wait until a new ship entered port. People were in no mood to pay coin to musicians and other entertainers, whom, with the war, found themselves cast as “beggars” or “vagabonds” or “unproductive oafs.” Entertainers, like, say, Kehrsyn.
    Folks were also concerned about the possibility of being unjustly rousted and cast out of the city after dark, but Kehrsyn had not seen that happen. Once the city’s maingate was closed for the evening, the guards didn’t want to open it back up.
    That left Kehrsyn free to wander the streets of a city filled with closed doors, shuttered windows, and fires sequestered behind mud-brick walls.
    Ordinarily, she scouted out potential places to spend the night beforehand. The fact that she almost always ended up getting rousted outside didn’t matter; she liked being prepared. That night, however, she hadn’t had the chance to, or, more accurately, had squandered it by feeling sorry for herself. She heaved a weary sigh and circumnavigated the Tiamatan temple. If she had the sufferance of Tiglath, she fully intended to use it.
    Toward the back, she found a reasonable place, a side door with a couple of wooden steps leading up to it.