A night in the swampy jungle did nothing to improve Kaidan's mood. He woke to the odd sensation of something wet and very tongue-like in his ear. His eyes snapped open. The telkie had curled up on his chest and was sleeping. It was the culprit of the odd sensation against his ear. The creature's tongue had lolled out of its mouth and slid against his ear sometime during the night.

The tiny animal's face was devoid of its usual mischievous look, and its large, purring breaths vibrated soothingly through his entire chest. Although the amount of slobber the creature had gotten on the blankets was going to stain, Kaidan tried to ignore the stench and the likelihood of a stain in favor of making peace with the furry, winged beast. It didn't seem inclined to go anywhere, so if he didn't want to be miserable, he'd better figure it out. Staring up at the tent's white peak, he tried to muster the energy to move.

Sleep last night had been difficult to come by in the heat, and the stuffy tent hadn't helped. But it had been necessary to keep the tent closed if Zerua's wardings were to keep the wild animals at bay. Her magic only worked if the perimeter was properly secured, unfortunately.

Shame she didn't bring any air cooling spell stones with her. He closed his eyes and groaned.

The telfie's purring stopped, and it grumbled, yanking its tongue back into its mouth and opening brown eyes to stare at him with an accusatory huff. He glared back. "What are you looking at? I didn't do anything. It's your fault you chose to sleep on top of me."

Beside him, Zerua turned over, yawning. "Kaidan? Who are you talking to?"

He huffed. "The stupid animal."

"She's not stupid."

Kaidan eyed the creature with a sigh, his earlier intentions to get along with the thing fading. "If you say so."

Zerua opened her eyes, laughing at him. "You're engaging in a stare-down with a baby animal, Kaidan. Really." She sat up, the blanket slipping down to her hips to reveal her bare skin.

Stripping had been the only way to make the heat somewhat bearable in the early evening, though the night's temperatures had dipped to colder temperatures, necessitating a blanket. Now, they were high again, and neither of them had clothes appropriate to the environment.

Kaidan's attention shifted from the telfie to his wife, and his mood instantly improved. He reached out and trailed his fingertips down her back with a smirk. She gasped, shivering under his touch. His grin broadened. "Been a while, hasn't it?"

Her gaze raked over his face, and she ducked her head with a tiny smile. "I suppose it has."

His fingers traced lazy circles against her skin, dipping lower to trace the curve of her spine. "We have time to fix that."

Her fingers curled into the blanket, and her back swelled against his fingers with her sharp inhalation. "Do we?"

He shooed the telfie off his chest, ignoring the animal's throaty rumble of annoyance. "Mmm... I think so." Sitting up, he nuzzled her neck with his nose, flicking his tongue over her skin to taste the salty sweat lingering there.

She bent her neck to the side, giving in to him. He dragged her into his lap, his mouth finding the pulse point of her neck. She arched into him with a whimper and tangled her hands in his hair. "Kaidan, is this really—"

"Shh..." He lifted his head and pressed his lips to her forehead with a smile. "Let me enjoy some time with you before we have to return to reality and our mission. Might be the only chance we have in a long time to do this."

She closed her eyes, tilting her head back with a sigh. "Would it be so bad to just go back home and forget we ever found that journal?"

Kaidan's playful mood evaporated, and he stilled against her. "Yes. If what Banach wrote is true, then everything we've believed to be true is a lie and some great evil will befall us if anyone ever opens the Pathway without the reincarnation of Rith there. Zer, our whole world as we know it could be destroyed because of lies that are centuries old." He rested his forehead against her collarbone. "We can't just leave it be. There are prophecies—" He shuddered. "The things written in this book make it clear that good is evil and evil is good, assuming this is true. We need to find Ashkarith and discover the truth before it's too late."

She exhaled slowly. "Fine. Then we'd—"

At that moment, a rustling sound came from outside the tent, followed by a loud, unmistakably human whoop. Kaidan froze against Zerua, and she sucked in a breath. "K-kaidan?"

He pressed a finger to her lips and shook his head. Placing his lips against her ear, he asked, "Will the wards hold against humans?"

She shook her head, her cheeks draining of color.

The tent flap was torn open before they could come up with a solution. A swarthy, red-brown skinned native stooped in the entrance, his entire torso and face painted with swirling tribal markings. Kaidan eyed them, trying to identify which tribe he might belong to. When he didn't recognize anything, he gave up and offered the frowning man a wan smile.

The man motioned for them to get up and move out of the tent. Zerua glanced at Kaidan, and he nodded. They couldn't afford to anger the man. She grabbed her blanket and wrapped herself in it, hiding her slender body from the man's disinterested stare. He stood aside, pointing for her to head out.

Past the man, Kaidan could now see other braves standing about in loincloths and bearing the same sharp, angular painted lines and tattoos as the man standing in the tent's entrance. He grabbed his own blanket and wrapped it around his waist, flinching when the telfie scampered onto his shoulders and dug tiny, sharp claws into his skin with a whimper. The man who had discovered them raised a brow at the telfie's appearance but only motioned Kaidan outside.

He emerged into the daylight, blinking as the harsh sun filtered through the foliage overhead. He eyed the sections of thicker canopy beyond the braves wistfully. The sun beat down on his head, and sweat beaded his upper lip. He stood beside Zerua, staring at the men surrounding them.

Their captor barked an order to the men standing behind them. Rough, calloused fingers closed around his bare arms and wrenched them behind his back. He glowered at the man directing them, fighting the grasp of his captors. It was of no avail.

He considered shifting into some ravening beast and killing all of them, but what good would it do? It wouldn't help them find the city of Faeridhia and Ashkarith by extension.

The men were gentler with Zerua. One of them placed a hand on her shoulder, guiding her firmly toward the darker portions of the jungle. Three of the braves enclosed her to ensure she wouldn't flee while the remaining four surrounded him. The man who was leading them shoved him forward, sending him stumbling after his wife. He winced as the stones and roots covering the jungle floor dug into his bare feet, but he bit his lip and continued on. Albrith's light! What a mess we've landed ourselves in. As they plunged into the heart of the jungle, he sent a silent prayer up to Albrith and Irafor for their protection. Then he set his mind to the path ahead and stumbled on.

***

"We found them camping in the jungle near the borders of the city, Sire." The man who had found them kneed Kaidan in the back, sending him sprawling on his hands and knees in front of the king.

Kaidan glanced over at Zerua, praying that she wouldn't receive the same rough treatment from the men holding her. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her sinking to her knees before the king, her head bowed in a silent display of respect. Good girl, he thought. Adapt and we might just survive this. He returned his attention to the king seated atop the gleaming throne of polished, honey-brown alor wood. Good thing they're speaking in the Common tongue so we can understand. That gave him a sliver of hope. Perhaps the men didn't intend to execute them on the spot.

"What were they doing there?" The king leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm.

"Well—" The brave who had ordered their arrest shifted from one foot to the other, his moccasined feet brushing against the marble flooring in a steady hush of movement. "They were engaging in the sacred rites of Mahala, Sire."

The king's brows rose. "In the middle of the jungle?" He stared at Kaidan with pursed lips. "What man is so desperate for his wife that he would do such an improper thing?"

Heat bloomed in Kaidan's chest and spread over his shoulders and up his neck before finally flooding into his cheeks.

"Surely you speak Common, stranger." The king stood and began to pace the dais before his throne, his arms crossed. "Tell me, why would you do such a thing? Do you not respect your woman?"

Kaidan swallowed, feeling like a small child enduring a lecture from his father. "I—Sire, I fail to see..."

The king rounded on him, his face reddening. "You defile the rites of Mahala by taking her gift in such a crude manner, and yet you have nothing to say for yourself?"

"Sire, we meant no offense." Zerua's soft whisper echoed in the silence following the king's question. "In our culture, intimacy—" A fiery red splashed across her cheeks as everyone gaped at her. "It is not such a sacred thing. Had we known it was regarded as unholy to engage in such actions in the jungle, we would not have done so." She ducked her head, clutching her blanket closer to her chest. "Forgive us, your majesty."

The king sucked in a breath and watched her in silence for a long moment. Then he crossed his arms. "As you are foreigners, I suppose it is understandable that you didn't know of our customs and the affront you were committing against Mahala, goddess of marriage and love." He tapped his slippered foot against the marble dais. "I will pardon you, but you must bring an offering to Mahala's temple so that you do not bring her wrath down upon us for allowing this atrocity to be committed within our borders."

Kaidan bit his lip to hold in a relieved laugh. What strange customs these people hold to... Not that they're necessarily wrong, but still— He ducked his head to hide the smile on his lips. "It will be as you say, Sire."

"Good. My bard will instruct you in the proper rites."

"Are they to be executed for trespassing, Sire?" The painted brave who had taken them stepped up beside Kaidan. "It is the way."

"I am aware of that, Kurifal." The king eyed Kaidan and Zerua curiously. "That is a well-known fact among the realms, as well, so I wonder—What were you two doing trespassing on Faelkish land?"

Kaidan lifted his head to answer when Zerua's steady, gentle voice filled the room again. "Sire, we are here to find out the truth about what happened at the city of Ashkarith and the Hill of Dubarin. We wish to know the truth about the gods."

"Badly enough to risk your lives?" The king stroked his black beard. "You are a strange one, woman. Rise." He waved for her to do as told.

Zerua rose, keeping the blanket close.

"What is your name? And your husband's?"

"I am Zerua. This is Kaidan."

"And what is your profession that you would come to my kingdom, risking death to find the truth?"

"We're archaeologists, Sire. Seekers of truth from history." Zerua smiled. "And we have found what we believe to be the diary of Queen Banach."

The king's eyes widened. "That was lost when she was! You lie."

Zerua shook her head. "No, Sire. We found it when excavating at Dubarin Hill."

"Dubarin Hill? Why would you find it there?" The king returned to pacing.

"We found it with the remains of a woman buried there. Her identity was impossible to confirm from the condition of the body." Zerua cleared her throat. "But the journal is in remarkable condition given the age we confirmed the body to be. Sire, the journal speaks of the writer's husband, Rith. We believe it to be hers."

"I would like to see the diary, if I may." The king rounded to face the two of them.

Kaidan and Zerua glanced at each other. It was their only chance to avoid execution, Kaidan realized. He nodded to Zerua.

She bit her lip and nodded back. "It's in the belongings that were left behind when your braves took us, Sire."

He crossed his arms. "Kurifal will retrieve your things. If it is indeed the diary, I will consider aiding you in your quest. If it is not, you will bear my wrath." He flicked his fingers at Kurifal. "Take them to a room in the palace and guide the bard to them. He will be responsible for their care."

Kurifal bowed and grabbed Kaidan's arm. Kaidan gritted his teeth and cooperated with the man's rough handling. He glanced up to see a scowl etched into the man's weathered features. Guess he doesn't appreciate the change in protocol. Kaidan ducked his head when the man glared at him, hoping to avoid further altercations with the man as the brave dragged him down the stone halls of the castle.

***

The bard was a wizened old man with a funny twinkle in his rheumy gray eyes. He leaned on his walking stick with a chuckle as he examined the couple standing in front of him. His robes swished against the floors as he circled them, clucking and mumbling to himself. Zerua shot Kaidan a glance and clutched the blanket closer to her. She bit her lip, hoping the bard would give them clothes to wear so she wouldn't have to continue holding this blanket up. Wrapping it around herself like a towel had improved the situation, but she still fidgeted with it, concerned that it might drop at any moment and leave her exposed to the judgmental eyes of everyone around.

The bard's gnarled stick pounded onto the stone floor in front of her. "Yes, ye'll do nicely, I think." He grinned, revealing blackened stumps where teeth should've been. Scratching his bald pate, the man hobbled to the bed and eased himself onto it. With a sigh, he nodded and waved the two of them closer. Once they'd obeyed and settled onto the floor a safe distance from his sandaled feet, the bard cleared his throat and tapped the flat end of his stick on the ground. "Now, I'm to instruct ye on the offerin's ye must make to appease the goddess for yer crude behavior in the jungle." His face crinkled with a smile, and he chuckled. "Ye two—" He pointed the end of his stick at them. "Yer either brave or stupid for comin' here and doin' such a thing."

Zerua and Kaidan glanced at each other, fighting smiles. She was certain he was thinking about his grandfather, Miftul, who had much the same attitude as this man did. In fact, the bard had the same irreverent attitude toward life mingled with a healthy respect for the requirements to be followed if one wanted to continue on living.

A groan came from the bard, and she looked back to the wrinkly fellow to find him rubbing at his back. He met her gaze without faltering and grimaced. "I'm gettin' too old for this." His words ended with a strange lisping hiss, courtesy of his missing teeth, but he didn't seem to care or notice. "At any rate, yer just goin' to have to sacrifice those blankets." He pointed at them with another high-pitched laugh.

The couple stared at him in silence for a long moment.

Then Kaidan broke the awkward silence. "With all due respect, sir, we have nothing else to wear."

The old man lifted his bony finger. "Ah. I knew I forgot somethin'."

"You forgot what?"

"Clothes, son. Clothes. Ye can't go gallavantin' about Faeridhia dressed in nothin' but yer own skin, now can ye?" Another inane laugh bubbled out of the bard.

"I see."

Zerua cleared her throat. "Sir, could we please have clothing sooner rather than later?"

The bard nodded, tapping his chin with a ragged fingernail. "I suppose ye might need 'em sooner than later. Well then, this way. Time for a little tour, I suppose." He stood, joints popping with each movement he made. Stretching his back, he sighed and hobbled toward the door. "I can do that, can't I? Suppose I could. The king's given me custody of ye."

Kaidan shot Zerua a confused frown. "Is he fully sane?"

"I can still hear, son. And I'm not fully sane, but I'm fully functional." The bard cackled as he marched down the hall, his walking stick beating staccato notes against the stone floor.

Zerua shrugged and continued on past Kaidan. "Don't think it matters much, Kai. He's in charge of us, so we'd better do what he says."

The bard burst into another fit of laughter at that. "Yer a canny one, aren't ye, girl? Though I'm fairly sure ye could overpower me if ye pleased." His sharp gaze ran over her blanket-clad form. "Though yer a slip of a thing, aren't ye? So, perhaps not."

Kaidan caught up with her. Zerua pursed her lips, crossing her arms over her chest. She had the distinct feeling that the old man was playing up his madness for their benefit. Perhaps all bards around here were required to be a bit touched in the head? Well, so long as he gave them something appropriate to wear, it hardly mattered.

The bard stopped in front of a room with a sign beside the door. The runic writing etched onto it wasn't something Zerua recognized, but the bard seemed contented with his choice. The door itself had no handle or lock, which surprised Zerua. Do they have no crime around here? Or is it just the palace that's like this? The bard began to hum a tuneless ditty under his breath and shoved through the door, sending it clattering into the wall.

Zerua peeked around the bard's skinny frame, looking to see where they'd been taken. The room carried shelves of clothing, bandages, clean supplies, and first aid materials. Zerua blinked, a frown furling her brow. Kaidan stopped short beside her, gaping at the room. "What in—"

The bard's brass voice cut his question off. "Behold, the castle's communal clothin' and supply closet."

"Communal—" Zerua cleared her throat. "You mean people just come in here to get their clothes? No one has their own things?"

"That is precisely what I mean, girl." The word precisely came out sounding more like preeshishely, but his point was made.

"Even the king?" Kaidan spun in a circle, still staring at the room's contents.

"Even the king, son. Though—" The bard staggered to a shelf and began picking through the clothing, shifting piles of examined clothes to the side to continue his hunt. "He has some of his own stuff, if ye catch my meanin'. Has to. He's king, and he's got to wear the ceremonial stuff sometimes, ye know?"

"You're joking, surely. Doesn't that get taken advantage of?" Zerua pointed at the shelves stocked with supplies. "And who pays for it all?"

The bard shrugged. "All of us, kid. And nah, it doesn't get taken advantage of." He chuckled. "No one wants to do that."

"What? No one?" Zerua couldn't wrap her mind around it.

"No one." The bard whipped out a pale blue dress and shook it out, holding it up and eyeing her. "And I think this'll do nicely."

Zerua examined the dress. It was simple, practically a tube with straps to hold it up, but the fabric was light, and the skirt flared past the waist to allow ease of movement. It looked like her size too. The bard held it out to her, and she took it from his twisted, veined fingers with a weak smile. "Better than a blanket, I'm sure."

That seemed to satisfy the man. He grunted and shuffled to another shelf, weeding through clothing there until he found Kaidan a pair of pants like the braves wore and a loose, billowing tunic. These he shoved into Kaidan's arms while he searched for a belt and a hat. Kaidan and Zerua watched him do this in silence, their confusion mounting as the seconds ticked by. Finally, the bard handed off the last of the clothing and pointed them to a dressing room off the main storage chamber.

Kaidan and Zerua followed his directive and went to change. As they yanked the clothing on, the two of them examined each other. The hilarity of the situation hit Zerua when Kaidan finished dressing and strapped on the belt. As he checked the fit in the sheet of glass serving as a mirror, she took a moment to admire the fact that the clothing was so antiquated. She hadn't seen this sort of outfit on anyone outside of costume parties and historical celebration events. The bard had dressed him in clothing that looked like something Montelishrians would've worn nearly two-hundred years ago. No one wore baggy pants and billowing shirts anymore. Everything was sharp and clean-cut. She clapped her hands over her mouth, trying to hold back the laughter.

Kaidan turned to her with a scowl on his face, crossing his arms. "Stop laughing! It isn't—" Then his gaze fell on the dress she was wearing, and he began laughing too. "You look like something out of a child's history book from the Ethlian era."

Zerua snickered. "At least mine is only fifty years too old. Yours looks like something straight of the era of the Fedhan line of monarchs. It'd be just their style."

The curtain rustled, and the bard poked his head around the cloth barrier. "Ye look just like one of us." He gave them a toothy grin. "Now, yer ready for a quick lesson in local history and a brief visit to the temple to burn—" He looked over the blankets with a sniff. "Those."

Zerua glowered at him. "Those are fine blankets that serve their purpose."

The bard shrugged. "Nonetheless. That's the sacrifice that the goddess told me ye should make."

Kaidan coughed, covering a laugh. "I see. Well, anything to appease the goddess."

The old man's lips split in a broad grin. "Now yer catchin' on, son. Whatever makes 'em happy so ye live comfortable-like for a few more years."

Now Zerua was certain he was faking it. The man's eyes held too much intelligence for him to truly be the insane old man he pretended to be. But, considering the situation they'd found themselves in, she chose not to comment on it. The bard smirked at her, seeming to know exactly what she was thinking. A twinkle danced in his gaze, and he turned his back on them. "Come along then, ye heathens." He rubbed his hands together before grabbing his stick from the wall and hobbling into the main storeroom.

***

When morning came, it brought with a stickier day than the last. Kaidan groaned and rolled onto his back, throwing a hand over his eyes. The buzz of insects outside the mesh window screen and the sun streaming over him made him wish he could roll over and go back to sleep. But there were things to do and questions to ask.

The bard, who had introduced himself as Teobhor the night that they'd been taken to sacrifice for their crime against the goddess, had many interesting tales to tell, and this morning, he had assured them that the king would decide their fate. Thankfully, word had come the day after their arrest that their story had been confirmed to the king's satisfaction, so they were in no danger of execution. But whether or not they'd get any help from the king or permission to visit the Holy Site, as the bard called Ashkarith, remained to be seen.

Beside him, Zerua groaned and turned onto her side, opening her eyes to greet the morning with a grumpy frown. "Why does it always have to be this hot?" She brushed her sticky hair off her forehead with a sigh.

"I don't know. Because it's a tropical environment, maybe?"

Zerua smacked him with a snicker. "Oh, quit being snide. You ready to get up and talk with Tebhor?"

He moaned. "Yes. No. We should though."

"Yes, we should." She laughed and sat up, the silk of her nightgown flowing over her fit form. Kaidan admired the lines of her body through the gown, thinking that he was blessed by the gods to have such a wonderful wife.

She rose from their pallet and padded across the room to retrieve the clothing that she'd been given the afternoon after their first meeting with King Eranar. He watched her dress, still trying to muster the energy to get up and prepare for the day himself. The cooling spell that had been cast on their room had worn off sometime during the night, and even the slight breeze blowing through the many screened window slots in the room wasn't enough to cool it off to a comfortable temperature.

He finally roused himself from his lethargy and got up, lumbering to his own clothing and tugging it all on. He found himself grateful once again for Tebhor's choice of clothing, which was lightweight and warded off the worst part of the heat from the sun.

As he was tying off the belt, the familiar knock of Tebhor's walking stick echoed in the hall. Moments later, the wizened man poked his head through the heavy curtain to their sleeping chamber, a broad, toothy smile on his lips. "The king will see you."

"Now?" Kaidan drew the strap of his satchel over his head, securing it at his side.

"Later in the morning. In about an hour." Tebhor hobbled in and eased his creaking body into the chair by the door. "Why?"

"I wanted to ask you about Ashkarith."

"The Holy Site?" The bard's muscles tensed, and he gripped the head of his staff more tightly. "It is a bad place, son. Very bad. None of the light it once contained is left. Yer still bent on goin', then?"

Kaidan settled cross-legged on the ground before Tebhor. "We have to, Tebhor. What can you tell us about the place?"

The bard shuddered, shaking his head. "No one who goes in comes back. Few who go there survive, and any who do wander the rest of their lives in a crazed state along the borders of the city, ravagin' any who approach. No one goes there." He raised a trembling hand toward Kaidan, palm up. "Not since she took up residence there a millennium ago."

"She?" Kaidan frowned.

The bard eased to his feet, trembling. "Bane of Ashkarith. She guards the city. I'll say no more. Just that ye shouldn't go there. It's not safe."

Kaidan stood too. "What do you mean?"

"I told ye what I meant, son."

Kaidan and Zerua exchanged glances. She shook her head, shrugging. He turned his attention back to the bard. "Are you sure you know nothing more, Tebhor?"

"Nothing that's for polite company." The old man turned away from them. "I'm tellin' ye not to go. Bane awaits any who enter." He shuffled toward the door. "Bane. Bane awaits," he muttered under his breath. Then he disappeared through the doorway, leaving the couple to ponder his frightening declaration.