“But they kill our kind!”
“Do our kind not kill cows and sheep to feed?”
“So, we’re sheep to them.”
“No, we’re survival. Food in the bellies of their young.”
Martin might never eat beef again. “Their master?”
“The mage we left behind. With each offering, he grows stronger. One day he’ll find a way to cross over. He plans to face the creature himself. He will fail.”
“He wants what you want, right? Wouldn’t he be a powerful ally?”
Dmitri shook his head. “Not exactly. He wants to make a deal with it or, lacking that, kill it, but he has greater ambitions.”
Those plans sounded plenty ambitious to Martin. “What?”
“The mages who came here wanted just to live, save your people our fate, make our home here. He wants to siphon the magic from your world to rebuild ours.”
And here Martin thought the master might help. No. Just another predator. “Where does priesthood and worshipping the Father come in?”
A chuckle wafted from under Dmitri’s hood. “Though I’m no seer of minds, I can well imagine the images in your head right now. The form of worship you are familiar with has evolved, as has nearly everything else in existence.” Dmitri bowed his head and spoke words in a language Martin didn’t know. “Worship of the Father and his feminine aspect, the Mother, had existed since your distant ancestors spoke their first words. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Once the Lady came, the Father’s followers believed our story, welcomed us, joined our cause. The original priests all died out as time went by, leaving only mage-born.”
Quickstepping to keep up, Martin pushed away thoughts of Peter to recall what Dmitri had said. “You said the Father exists if I believe in him.”
Dmitri’s hood dipped in a nod. “In people’s minds, he is real, and praying to him increases the harvest, allows childless couples children. The people believe in him; therefore, he exists. It’s another form of magic.”
“The Lady’s worshippers? What happened to separate the Father from the Mother?”
Dmitri stayed silent for so long Martin thought he wouldn’t answer. “Greed, envy, sloth. Some wanted more of the pleasure; others thought they could only serve by doing without. The more pleasure one group received, the more the others became envious and bitter.
“The creature came here, took advantage of the people’s beliefs, and set itself up as the Lady.”
“Some believe she… it, doesn’t truly live in the temple.” Though Martin felt its malevolent presence night after night.
“It does, in a fashion. Right now, it is mostly dormant, feasting on magic. But I believe it senses us, will make a move soon to stop our efforts.”
“And—”
“I’ve said too much already. Repeat none of what you heard from me this night. I only tell you because… because soon I believe you’ll have a reason to know. Now, I must study.” Dmitri stopped at the door to the Father’s temple. Martin hadn’t even realized they’d traveled this far. “I bid you good eve.”
Martin stood in the street, a million questions on his tongue. He’d not get any answers tonight. Laughter and bright lights called to him from the Lady’s temple. Music, wine, warm bodies. Serve the poor? He couldn’t imagine those inside serving anyone but themselves. No wonder the common people hated them.
Dmitri had said the current ways weren’t like this in the old days. Why did no texts exist of that time?
Churning thoughts put Martin’s feet into motion to check on Peter. He rushed past the night workers, ignoring their taunts and offers, breathing a sigh of relief when the tavern came into view.
Light spilled from the open doorway, as well as the last of the eve’s patrons. The barmaid wrapped a shawl around her shoulders. Two men escorted her when she’d only ever left alone before.
Good. Peter took precautions.
Or the barmaid took liberties. Somehow, Martin couldn’t imagine the headstrong Addie bowing to social conventions.
For a moment, a brief second, Martin caught sight of Peter before the door closed. Peter. Someone easy to talk to, who didn’t espouse either faith and try to sway Martin to one side or the other. Merely shared ale and conversation.
And their bodies. Oh, how Martin tried to stay away, not pull Peter into the darkness.
Like a moth drawn to a flame, Martin couldn’t stay away.
