Page 15 of The Warrior Priest (After the Rift #1)

T he evening was still young when we arrived at the temple of Merdu’s Rest, the priestly order of doctors and apothecaries who took care of infirm and dying priests.

Although the goddess Hailia was associated with healing, priests took care of their own.

I supposed it would be undignified for dying men to be cared for by women when their bodies hadn’t been seen by the opposite sex in decades, in some cases.

Priestesses had their equivalent order, Hailia’s Rest. Their smaller temple was located in the same street as the priests’.

We had no interest in it. We needed a dead man .

Rhys had explained on the way that he’d gotten the idea from my own faked death.

Although mine hadn’t been deliberately faked, it had served my purpose and stopped my uncle from searching for me, at least until he saw me recently.

Rhys hoped he’d be convinced a second time, if we could find a suitable body.

“Why not a woman’s body?” I asked as we passed the temple of Hailia’s Rest.

“Do you think the governor will believe a woman capable of cold-blooded murder? Or that she could climb a vine?”

He had a point.

We stopped opposite Merdu’s Rest, an elegant temple with rounded domes of the same style as the high temple, only smaller.

Unlike the temple of Merdu’s Guards, there were no walls surrounding it.

It barely even had a forecourt, just a narrow path in front of four stone steps leading to the entrance.

“We’ll wait for the high temple bell to signal evening prayers, then we’ll go in through the side door,” Rhys said. “There are no torches there. Can you pick the lock in the dark?”

“Of course. Rhys, are you sure you want to use the fresh corpse of one of your fellow brothers? It could deny him a proper burial in sacred ground.”

“The order isn’t just for ill and dying priests.

The city’s unclaimed deceased men are brought here.

Vagrants and those with no family or who can’t be identified.

The priests prepare the bodies for burial and pray for their souls.

They’re kept for a week, sometimes less in the heat of summer, in case someone comes forward and claims them.

It’s always better to bury someone with a name in sacred ground than without.

We’re not taking the body of someone with friends and family, Jac. Also, I’ll pray for him.”

For a religious person, that was enough to justify what we were about to do. I still had my reservations.

“The priests will notice a missing corpse.” I indicated the temple. “They’ll realize something is going on when that same body finds its way back here tomorrow.”

“Their master will take their concerns to the high priest. The high priest will deem it wiser to say nothing, since finding the deputy governor’s killer will put an end to the governor’s threat of violence.

The high priest likes peaceful solutions.

” He leaned back against the wall of the building behind us, ankles crossed, arms loosely by his sides.

He was as calm as could be. “Any more questions?”

“Just one,” I said. “What if this goes wrong? What if my uncle doesn’t believe the ruse a second time?”

“That’s two questions. Have faith, Jac.”

“That’s not an answer.”

His jaw firmed and he stared at the temple with grim determination.

The high temple’s bell rang out in the distance. Time for evening prayer.

“Let’s get this over with,” I said.

Rhys bowed his head. His lips moved in silent prayer. After a moment, he looked up. “Ready.” It seemed he had to follow the religion’s rules of prayer time even when he was on a mission.

We entered the narrow lane where the temple’s side door was located. It wasn’t as dark as I thought it would be, thanks to a sliver of moonlight slicing across the cobblestones. I crouched at the door and set to work. Moments later, the click of the lock opening sounded loud in the empty lane.

Rhys entered first, then signaled for me to follow.

Light from torches positioned in wall sconces helped guide our way through the warren of the corridors and back rooms. Rhys grabbed one and led the way down a set of stone steps to the basement.

The air was even colder, making it the ideal room to prepare bodies for burial, particularly the unclaimed ones that needed to be kept for a week.

I caught a glimpse of four lying on tables before Rhys blocked my vision.

“Don’t look,” he said. “They’re naked.”

“I’ve seen naked men before.”

“When? Who?”

“None of your business.”

The only naked men I’d seen were at the river, frolicking in the shallows on hot days. Sometimes they invited me to join them, but I always declined, for obvious reasons. I stayed to enjoy the view, however. It was quite an education for a sheltered young lady.

“Stop being a prude, Rhys, and step aside. I assure you I won’t faint from the sight.”

“Me, a prude? Ha!”

“Oh, that’s right,” I teased. “You haven’t kept that particular vow.”

“Low blow, Jac.” He stepped aside. “We need a relatively fit looking body, one capable of climbing a vine and rowing a boat.”

It didn’t take us long to settle on a man aged about thirty with a stubbled jawline and in need of a haircut. Old scars marred his torso and hands, but there were no obvious signs of foul play.

“He drowned.” Rhys indicated the bluish tinge of the skin and the wrinkly palms and souls of the feet.

He tilted the head to the side and held the torch close for better light.

“No sign he was held underwater, so my guess is he was so drunk he fell unconscious and stumbled into the river. A relatively peaceful way to die.”

A chill rippled down my spine. “How can you speak so calmly about death?”

He held the torch up to see my face. “Because death isn’t the end. All believers know that.” The heat from the torch and his intense gaze chased the chill from my bones.

I cleared my throat. “We can’t present a naked body to the sheriff. To make the story of a drunken drowning feasible, he needs to be dressed.”

“That trunk probably has their clothes. See what you can find while I pray for him.” He stood by the body and closed his eyes.

His prayer was said out loud this time, although he kept his voice low.

It was melodic, the words soothing, as he prayed to the god and goddess to embrace the poor soul who’d become lost and lonely.

“If he was without faith…” Rhys paused. “If his faith wavered, show him the path back. He needs your guidance and love.”

I opened the trunk only to step back from the power of the smell coming from the pile of rags inside. I turned away, coughing, then gulped in some fresher air before holding my breath as I rifled through the clothes. Thankfully it was easy to determine which ones belonged to our body.

Rhys came up alongside me with the torch. “Do you need light?”

“You’ll need it to look for his boots. I’m not going back in there.

” I held a pair of trousers, shirt and jerkin at arm’s length.

“He wore these when he died. They smell of the river, and not the nice part either. He died not far from the factories, if I’m not mistaken.

There’s even some mud still on them.” I deposited the clothes and boots beside the body.

“Shouldn’t there be mud on him, too? And if he was a vagrant, why isn’t he dirtier? ”

“The priests have cleaned him. It’s part of the burial ritual. You dress his top half. I’ll look for the boots.”

He wasn’t a large man, but carrying a dead body out of the temple unseen wouldn’t be easy once we’d dressed him. I was considering the best way to do it when Rhys simply picked him up and slung him over his shoulder. The body draped there like a shawl, torso and arms dangling at Rhys’s back.

“I’ll go first and check if the coast is clear,” I said, torch in hand.

I was about to climb the stairs when I heard footsteps walking above. I waited, a finger to my lips in warning.

Rhys tilted his head to the side, listening.

Once the footsteps receded, I led the way up.

I peered around the corner, and seeing no one about, signaled for him to follow.

I placed the torch back in the wall sconce and pushed open the same door through which we’d entered.

I raced on my toes down the lane, but stopped when I realized Rhys wasn’t with me.

He’d stopped further back but was now heading toward me.

The body was no longer across his shoulder, but at his side, propped up by Rhys’s strong arm.

The toes of the boots skimmed the ground, no doubt making even larger holes in the worn leather than was already there.

The head lolled forward. He looked like a man helping his drunken companion home.

“The factories are that way,” I said to Rhys when he turned left instead of right.

“We have a stop to make first. You’re going to earn your wages.”

“This is a paid job? But it’s not officially sanctioned. How will you get the money from Master Tomaj?”

He flashed me a grin. “Let me worry about that.”

“I hate it when you’re mysterious. It’s no wonder people stop believing when the priests are so secretive.”

“People?”

“People who like answers.”

“There isn’t an answer to every question in life, Jac.”

It was a typical response from him whenever the topic of religion arose. Thankfully, it arose very rarely. Despite his life revolving around it, he didn’t mention it much.

“There’s no secret about our order,” he went on. “We train to fight. We fight when needed.”

“And yet there is a high wall around your temple complex and women aren’t allowed inside.”

He stopped and hitched the body higher. A passerby gave Rhys an odd look before noticing his priest’s tunic. “Need help, Brother?”

“No, thanks. My friend had a little too much tonight.”

The man chuckled. “We all have a friend like that. Good night and good luck.”