Lifted

The cot had not lasted long. He wanted to spend all day reveling in the taste and feel of her. Every time she grinned at him or kissed his skin as though she longed to kiss every inch of him he wanted to make her call out his name. When she pulled away as they rested on the ground atop the broken cot, he frowned at her and sulked.

Charyic looked at him with amusement as she fetched the platter of untouched breakfast. After she spread the blanket wider on the ground she knelt with the platter and pointed at his staff.

“A kiss first.” He grinned at the look she gave him and pulled her down as soon as she set the platter aside. Her laughter charmed him.

When he finally sat up and took his staff in hand she bent and kissed his knee, You are a terrible husband, not letting me eat when I’m half starved. Her eyes sparkled as she teased him. You can make it up to me after breakfast by reading me some of the poetry I saw you reading earlier.

“A short one. I lack the patience for poetry when I have my loving wife naked before me.” Malav laughed as her face flushed and her eyes moved over his nakedness of their own accord.

A short poem. Her thoughts of kissing his skin while he read made him regret not promising a longer one.

“Eat. I have never wanted to read a poem as badly as I wish to at this moment.” His wife grinned and caressed his leg before she began to put cheese on a slice of bread. She offered him a bite after she had taken one and he pulled her into his lap. “If you wish to feed me, come closer.”

Breakfast managed to extend until the afternoon, each break they would nibble from the platter and she would tease him about forgetting to read the poem. When Cerik stepped into the tent turning his back and standing waiting to be acknowledged, Malav knew they had been summoned.

“We are expected?” Malav asked in a careful tone.

“Yes, my Prince. The priests wished it to be made known that the shrine has been opened to you for some hours now.” He paused thoughtfully, “I had only secured Lady Charyic’s travel clothes for this journey, do they need repairing or freshening before you enter the shrine?”

“Possibly. We will also need to wash ourselves before we wash in the pool.” Malav paused, “And something to drink would not be amiss.”

“I will fetch refreshments and water for washing at once, my Prince. I will also bring something that your lady wife may cover herself with, while she waits for her clothes.”

“Thank you, Cerik.”

The man almost turned to bow, but caught himself and quickly stepped out to give orders about water and clothing.

Charyic’s consternation about being expected to enter the shrine was palpable even without the staff in his hand. He assured her it would be for her benefit. After washing and quenching their thirst, Malav suggested that she wear his shirt to the root pool, and change into her clothes again afterward. Her nervousness did not abate when she saw the pool. The sight of the roots she was expected to carefully move over to wash herself made her want to flee.

Malav lifted her up and carried her into the pool, and she clung to him for dear life. He was amused by her reactions until he sank into the water with her. As soon as she entered the cold water she shuddered and began to sing. Hollowed and swallowed light, war and spreading darkness, hope aloft on wings of joy, love above and below. Charyic trembled terribly as the song came to an end, falling unconscious in his arms.

“Cerik!” Malav’s cry disturbed the sudden silence of the trees around the pool. He stumbled as he tried to get her back to the edge of the pool, causing them both to be momentarily submerged in the cold water. He had to move more carefully if he didn’t want to drown them both or get caught in the roots. The older man was there waiting as Malav stepped from the water with Charyic limp in his wet grip.

“What happened, your Highness?” Cerik asked quietly as he tried to take the girl from him.

“She sang. The water touched her and she sang.” Malies had promised. If he brought her… “I have to take her before the shrine.” He pulled on his clothes hurriedly and wrapped Charyic in the shirt she had worn to the root pool. He would have left his staff if Cerik had not thrust it at him as he moved toward the shrine with urgency.

This time there was no stately walk down into the shrine, Malav moved quickly, purposefully. He almost cursed at the priest who barred his way to the inner cavern. Smoke billowed from the vents at his feet and he waited impatiently for the man to speak.

“You have come to bend your knee to the unyielding. What do you offer, what do you ask?”

Offer. He had not brought an offering. Malav paused his mind racing. “I have come to bend my knee in supplication. I offer-I offer the child my wife will bear me, and I ask that I might keep her until the day my death pleases the greatest of all gods.” Water from the root pool dripped from her hair onto the stone floor.

“Enter, favored of Malies. You may approach the highest altar.”

Malav forged ahead into the inner cavern, at the highest altar he knelt, suddenly uncertain of what he should do. He had never bent his knee in supplication. He did not know how to ask and he could not afford to give Malies offense. His staff warmed in his hand. He was to lay her on the altar.

He stood and lay her among the bones and weapons and his staff was pulled from his hand as it had been pulled from the crook of his arm. He sank back to his knees looking at her helplessly.

“A child should first be conceived before it is promised, but I will accept it nonetheless.” The voice came from his mouth once more. “I will grant her to you until the day of your life’s end, if you keep her as close as your staff. If you do not guard her as jealously it will be your own negligence that parts you.”

Charyic shuddered as the staff was touched to her, the other end held in the darkness around the statue. She took a deeper breath and her eyes fluttered open, her head turning to Malav.

“Malav.” Her voice was a soft, weak whisper.

“You have not yet made an offering, but I have lifted your curse, blessed of Anyk. You were an offering and a warning for my brother, and now you are laid upon my altar.” The voice coming from Malav’s mouth seemed to frighten her and he could do nothing to reassure her.

“I thank you for lifting the curse, your Grimness. But what do I have that you would want?”

Malav heard the amusement in the voice, “A title I have not heard for some time. Why do thieves no longer visit my altars? You left no token on mine but you gave to Ayil, Laeros, Ynis and Umis.”

“To visit an altar is to ask for a god’s attention, your Grimness. To ask for yours is to ask to kneel before the headsman.”

The pleased voice spoke again, “I was asked to bring justice to Belasenden, did I not do it? Are there not many who worship and walk away from my shrines contented?”

The look of fear on her face eased as he spoke of Belasenden. “I will gladly give you a kiss in thanks for what you did in Belasenden, your Grimness. And a dozen more if it pleases you, in thanks for lifting this curse. But the worship of thieves is a cautious thing. The King of Fools isn’t permitted in your temples and your-” she bit her tongue not wanting to blaspheme in a god’s presence, “your brother,” the word was spoken as an invective, “has his shrines destroyed when they’re found. We avoid most of the gods when we can, except our own.”

Malav could feel a smile spreading across his face and the voice was smug as it spoke, “I accept the offer of thirteen kisses. And I am willing to offer the King of Fools refuge in my shrines if his own will bend their knees to me as well. So long as they do not also bend their knees to my brother.”

“I have not yet met a thief willing to bend their knee to your brother, your Grimness. The blinding b*****d is no friend to us, even if he stopped sleeping with our King’s wife.” Malav watched her stop breathing as she realized what she’d said.

Laughter echoed in the shrine.