Requiem Moon (Scarlet Odyssey) by C. T. Rwizi

Author:C. T. Rwizi [Rwizi, C. T.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: 47North
Published: 2021-03-22T16:00:00+00:00

The Sentinel out on the drive is the same young man who slipped Salo the message box over a week ago. Ilapara and Alinata are already there, watching him suspiciously from the porch as he paces back and forth, rubbing his hands together.

His eyes widen as soon as Salo emerges from the residence. “Honored sorcerer! I need your help! The king is in trouble!”

Standing somewhere behind Salo, Tuk lets out an audible groan. Salo ignores it, moving past Ilapara and Alinata and approaching the distressed Sentinel. “Calm down, Red-kin. Where is she right now?”

“In the undercity!” the Sentinel says, his eyes wild with panic. “She told us she was attending a prayer service; then there was an earthquake and the mystics started evacuating everyone, but I couldn’t find her, and they wouldn’t let me look for her. But I know she’s still down there! You have to help me.”

By her hardened expression, Ilapara is unconvinced. “This is absurd,” she says in Sirezi. “Of all the mystics crawling in this city, the guards, the Sentinels, he comes here? Something doesn’t smell right.”

The same thought has crossed Salo’s mind. “Why have you not sounded the alarm?” he asks the Sentinel. “Why have you come here?”

Fighting back tears, the Sentinel, who says his name is Obe Saai, babbles through an explanation: the king was doing something she didn’t want her Faro protector to know about, so she made her guards promise not to tell him under any circumstances, and since she has enemies who would seek to kill her the instant they knew she was out of the Red Temple, the Sentinel didn’t know where else to go but here.

“I shouldn’t have let her go alone,” he says when he’s done, looking haunted. “If she’s dead, it’ll be my fault, Mother above.”

The sheer force of his distress is surprising to Salo considering the Sentinel is supposed to be an indentured guard. Also surprising is Alinata’s reaction.

“We have to help, Salo,” she says, the urgent edge to her voice betraying how much this matters to her. “The king is in trouble, and the high mystic protecting her doesn’t know. Her death would be the end of everything.”

“That’s overstating things a little, don’t you think?” Tuk mutters, though his protest lacks enthusiasm, like he partly agrees with her.

“I thought the king was sequestered in the Red Temple,” Salo says to the Sentinel, who sniffs as he wipes his rheumy eyes.

“She’s been coming out disguised as a servant.”

Salo stills as a realization strikes him. “By Ama. That young woman I met in the botanical gardens . . .”

“Yes.” A flicker of hope sparks in the warrior’s eyes. “That was the king, and she needs your help, honored sorcerer.”

Tuk utters a curse while Ilapara shakes her head again. “I really hate this city,” she mumbles.

A sentiment Salo shares, but he could hardly refuse to help now, not when he remembers the king’s face so clearly. Not when she was desperate enough to meet him in person.

He considers the memory cube in his hand; it looks like he won’t be needing it tonight.

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