Page 32 of Ties of Frost

This fretting and growing anger did me no good. The story about the snake and my time volunteering with the Sisters of Beneficence had chastened me. If I had a prayer of getting this curse out of my arm and breaking the heartbond, all without failing in my piety and rengir vows, it would take just that—prayer.

I slipped out the door and made my way through the dawn light to the Ravensburgh Sanctuary. The public house of worship in Ravensburgh, the Sanctuary was also attached to a monastery, and the abbot was just leading the monks in a sunrise liturgy. I sneaked into the back row oflow benches and knelt on a cushion, adding my low voice to the refrain of the monks.

Kyrundar had once admitted he struggled with the memorization and repetitions of such traditions. I’d judged him for it at the time, but later I’d had to acknowledge his faith wasn’t any less sincere, and at times I was tempted to envy how easily and without pretense he could speak to Iskyr. For my part, though, the rituals helped steady the fire in my chest and clarify my thoughts and supplications.

When the abbot finished, I added my own traditional prayers and recitation of holy texts asking for guidance, provision, protection, and endurance, and then I crept out before any of the brothers noticed me.

With the sun up, the streets bustled with activity. People pushed market carts or opened doors to shops, calling out their wares. A girl hurried past me, corralling a flock of geese, and a boy tugged on the lead of a stubborn pig. A man with tattoos covering his muscular arms—likely a human, as few shifters or elves cared for tattoos—walked by carrying a barrel on his shoulder. I caught a few curious glances at my sword and was glad I’d stowed my Order insignia in my hip bag. Even though the time in the sanctuary had helped, I still wasn’t in the mood for extra attention.

When I returned to our room in the Haven, Kyrundar was dressed—thank Iskyr—and braiding back the sides of his hair. For a brief moment, I watched in fascination as his deft fingers flew through weaving together the thin strands, but then he turned his head to see me.

“Where did you go?” He raised a brow and leaned tothe side. “And what are you hiding behind your back?”

“Sanctuary.” I pulled my hands in front of me, revealing two warm, glazed buns with dried currants. “And a baker was leaving as I returned. She’d donated some fresh baked goods. I was glad I was able to thank her before she returned to her bakery. I wasn’t sure if you’d still be asleep, so I thought I should grab one for you before the others get up and they’re all devoured.”

He grinned. “I appreciate it. Let me finish this, if you don’t mind.”

“Braiding your hair with sticky fingers would be unwise,” I agreed.

I waited until we’d both finished our buns to ask the question burning at the back of my throat. “Can we meet your friend now?”

Kyrundar looked up from his sticky fingertips and glanced out the window before shaking his head. “Not yet. I don’t want to inconvenience her.”

If asking a few questions was an inconvenience, his contact must not be overly friendly. The idea that he truly wasn’t that close with this woman pleased me, and I decided not to examine why.

“How is your arm?”

I shrugged. “The same.” Which included a glimmer of cold pain every time I made an abrupt movement or bumped the spot, but that would worry him for no reason. He’d done all he could.

Kyrundar nodded. “Want to walk around town until it’s time to meet my friend?”

As that seemed preferable to sitting in the Haven, I readily agreed.

About an hour later, as I was wondering whether I risked sounding like a petulant child if I asked again when we would meet this mysterious woman, Kyrundar changed course. He switched from an aimless stroll to jaunty strides as he left my side to approach a long building.

The ground floor was made of limestone, while the upper two stories were built of timber-framed wattle and daub. Wood shingles covered the steep gables of the uppermost rooms. A sign jutting out from the second floor over the busy thoroughfare depicted a steaming teapot, and red letters painted over the door declared THE BLOOMING LOTUS TEAHOUSE.

I caught his sleeve and brought us to a halt. “What is this?”

“It’s a tea parlor.”

“I can see that.” I crossed my arms, ignoring the icy twinge of my wound. “Why are we here?”

“To have tea, obviously.” Kyrundar’s wide smile made me want to singe off his ridiculously silky hair. “The Blooming Lotus not only serves the best tea on this side of the continent, it also observes the ancient tea ceremony from Shuallang as a practice of pursuing calm, releasing worries, and treasuring the blessings of the present moment.”

Just saying all of that took too long. “We don’t have time for—”

“My contact is the proprietor.” He waved toward the front door. “It would be terribly impolite to ask her for afavor without first giving her our business, now wouldn’t it?”

I narrowed my eyes. “You said she was your friend.”

“So she is,” Kyrundar agreed far too cheerfully. “And I like to support my friends.”

“You said you spent all your money.”

“I suppose you’ll have to pay, then. But a rengir’s money is never truly her own.” He winked. “Come on. An hour won’t delay us that much, and it will be good for you to remember it’s all right to rest now and then.” He headed inside.

An hour. On top of the night spent at the Haven and the hour spent milling about Ravensburgh… I groaned and followed him. It wasn’t as if I had any leads of my own.

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