Sand

Kneeling before the altar of Malies, Malav let the god’s pleasure wash over him. He had done well. And he was to do more yet. He still required a shrine of Iskus, and he needed to take the City of Light before his wife bore his child. Malies was clear. He wanted the child. He wanted Malav’s wife to bend her knee next to her husband and offer her service.

If Malav could do these things, there would be such rewards. His missteps would be forgiven. All would bow at his feet as they bowed to Malies.

Malav was nearly drunk with the euphoria of the visions given to him. He would do all that Malies asked and more.

He had months yet before Charyic would bear his son. As easily as he had conquered Cearazon and Cearaden, and the city of Gaelel. Malav was certain Isemalrocath would fall relatively quickly. The Light Bringers might give him some initial difficulty, but they would tire and his army of the dead would overwhelm them. The City of Light could wait.

The shrine on the Oryr Road, however, would need to be collected immediately. If thieves had not already moved it they would soon. Thieves. Cerik always seemed to have what was required on hand.

Smirking as he stood, Malav commanded, “Cerik, bring the girl. I need to find one of the shrines of the King of Fools.”

He heard the older man hesitate. “My King, I-”

“She escaped you?” He watched Cerik carefully for signs that he was lying.

“Yes. As did the beggar. I was speaking to him and when he had finished it seemed as if they simply vanished.” The man looked sincere. “The bells on the staff, my King, I think it may have been some sort of-”

Malav barked a laugh. “I should have known, a priest of the King of Fools would have some sort of thief magic. I should not have left you with him alone. You’ll search the rest of the plunder the men collected for any other thieves. I may require one if the shrine at the Oryr Road has been moved.”

The former priestess of Isemal approached demurely. “You commanded me to tell you of the weaknesses of Isemalrocath, Dread King?”

He could not contain his pride and pleasure looking on his handiwork, “I did indeed. You will accompany me and tell me all you know of them at length.” He wanted it on display. “The fabric I gave to Isemal, is it still here?”

“Yes, Dread King.”

“Fetch it. I think a gown of it would display you well.” Malav watched her move toward the back of the temple purposefully. He turned back to Cerik with a smile and caught the man’s disapproving look. “My wife cannot fault me for disloyalty, this parting is her doing.”

Cerik schooled his face to neutrality as Malav watched. “As you say, dread King.”

The slight difference in the way they both spoke the title was like a grain of sand on a smooth sheet. Malav contemplated putting Cerik on the tip of his blade as well. His thoughts were interrupted as his dead priestess returned.

“Cerik, take the cloth and have something… suitable made.” Malav wrapped his hand around the hilt of his blade and reached out to make certain that the gates had been raised and sealed, save the one he intended to use, the gate toward the Oryr Road. He gave the order for the army to begin moving, and the dead inside the walls were to begin the burning of the city. There would be none left to carry word to Isemalrocath.

He smiled at the thought of Ayred hiding in the city somewhere, burning.