“Oh, not at all, boy. The Watch answers to the Council.” Then the tiny round grandma pointed skyward. “Paladins answer only to the gods. You must be new around here.”
“That I am.” And talking to a local gave me an excuse to keep watching the entrance in case Gerzog came out, so I was happy for the company. “I’ve only been in the Core for a few months, and this is my first time in this district. It’s rather nice. That great big church suspended over there is pretty impressive.”
“Oh, lad, that’stheCathedral. That’s where all the priests gather to commune with their saints and manage the spiritual welfare of all the kingdoms. Do you know nothing?”
My people were devout, but it was a pragmatic sort of devout. Our saint was all about hard work, and we prayed to him to keep ourselves in one piece long enough to get that work done. Most barge cadres weren’t big on the organized part of religion, priests of Ketekunan were few and far between, and our set of encyclopedias had been missing the volume detailing the history and organization of said church.
“I know a bit, just not how things are done around here. Like, what’s this place here they’re guarding?”
“You’ve never been to a holy site before? What kind of horrible backwards kingdom are you from?”
“Fogo.” When I said that, she shrugged like she’d never heard of it. “The one with all the lava.”
“Oh, that miserable fire realm. You poor thing. Well, come on, then.” With her free hand, she grabbed mine and tugged me toward the gate. “I didn’t know you were an escaped slave.”
“Indentured servant.” Breaking free would cause a scene, so I let her drag me along.
“Same difference. Such barbarity is illegal in the Core. In this city, all are equal, and upon holy ground, all are uplifted. The militant orders guard the shrines. Our tithes from the churches maintain them. The Council even donates magic to make them spiffy. I can’t believe you’ve been in the city so long without paying your proper respects to the gods. That’s bad luck, that is. You’re just begging to get cursed with misfortune.”
She was probably right, but if I ran into Gerzog and ended up shooting him in the face on holy ground, that would probably make the gods even more upset with me. “Thanks, but I’ve got an appointment I need to?—”
“Nonsense.” Halflings had surprisingly strong grips for such small people. “It only takes a minute to walk through the gardens and leave an offering.”
The paladins were watching us now, so I was committed. “That sounds great.”
“We got us a first-timer,” she said as we reached the gate. “There you go, hotlander. Say hello to Saint Prudence for me. She’s the best.”
“I will. Thank you, ma’am.” I nodded at the paladins as I walked through. “Good day to you, sirs.”
They nodded politely back, logically assuming I was a bumpkin here to see the sights, rather than a wizard who’d been wronged, plotting revenge upon a thieving orc.
I entered a big courtyard, and suddenly, it was no longer winter. There was green grass, flowers, big trees, and even leafy bushes sculpted to resemble animals. I was still getting used to the idea of plant life, so that really was something. I’d never seen a real garden before.
Even better, it wasn’t cold in here. Though the whole place was open to the grey sky, the temperature began to rise as soonas I stepped through the gate. It wasn’t even a sharp change, like the shock of coming in from the cold into a room with a fireplace so hot that the change would make your ears prickle and your skin hurt, but rather, this was a gradual, gentle warming. It was still chilly in here by Fogo’s burning standards, but it was downright pleasant compared to the altitude and wind chill I’d been suffering under all day.
Forget paying respects to the gods. I’d come back just for the magical weather.
There were meandering footpaths through the garden. People strolled down those or lounged on the grass, having pleasant conversations. There were birds flying around in here, probably glad to escape the winter outside. Some chirped and sang. The entire place had an aura of calm and contemplation about it. My home had been nothing at all like this, and it still managed to feel like home.
It didn’t seem like something that would attract filth like Gerzog the Marauder, but I could still sense the bullet nearby, so I picked a path that went in that direction and set out.
I hoped to spot him and follow him to someplace that wasn’t crawling with paladins. I didn’t know much about their attitudes, but they’d been well armed, and surely wouldn’t care for anyone disturbing the peace here.
There were statues scattered throughout the garden, standing on plinths. The statues were of various races and species, dressed in many different ways. Some wore next to nothing, while others were in suits of armor or big flowing robes. I was a little surprised when I saw one statue move and begin speaking like a real person, until I realized that was simply some manner of magical animation.
People would gather around a statue, then it’d come to life and begin telling them a story. When the stories were over, they would leave some small offering at the base: small coins, scrapsof food, crafts, and even a dead mouse. That one had been left by one of the strange frog race at the foot of a statue of a lizardman, but it had been done so respectfully that surely it hadn’t been meant as an insult.
I wondered if these statues were what those saints had really looked and sounded like before they’d been uplifted to immortality. There were thousands of saints, but this place only had dozens of statues, so I doubted mine would be represented. Which was unfortunate, as it would’ve been a treat to see an image of Ketekunan better than a wood carving stuck on a barge hull.
I rounded a corner, and there was a statue shorter than the others. It looked very similar to the halfling grandmother who’d shoved me in here, and when I checked, sure enough, the brass plaque at the base declared this to be Gwyneth, Saint of Prudence. No wonder this was her favorite; they could have been sisters.
Wait… Could I have been guided here by a saint, disguised as a mortal? There were stories about that sort of thing happening. Then I laughed at myself, because that was downright silly.
“I was told to say hello… Hello.” The statue didn’t come to life and regale me with tales, so I didn’t really know what else to do. I knew prudence had something to do with having good judgment and discipline—which I could certainly use—and my saint wasn’t around to ask for help, so she would have to do.
“While I’m here, I could use some help. I’m looking to put things right. I’ve got good folks counting on me, but I owe favors to evil men. I’ve made promises which I tried to keep, but I got betrayed by someone I thought to be a friend and wronged by a thieving orc. If I can’t keep those promises, then decent people—who I’m responsible for—are going to suffer. The lucky ones will be homeless, and the rest of us will be dead. As is poor Rufus already, may he rest in peace.” I had a dark thought that mademe chuckle. “He sure could have used some prudence coming down those stairs! The poor guy… Forgive me, that was probably inappropriate.”
I didn’t know what to leave for an offering and began patting myself down. I had almost no money left, and the only other things of value on me were rounds of ammunition, element, or enchantments, and it wouldn’t beprudentto give those up, especially while looking for a fight. Then I found something that might be appropriate.
