Free Tivi's Dagger by Alex Douglas

same.”
    “ No, it’s not . Look at her smile, it’s…bigger.”
    “ Rubbish. You may be in need of an
eye-glass, brother.” He folded his arms and tapped his foot on the
ground, gazing into the mist that was descending on the nearby
temple from the peak above.
    Kari had finished his prayers. He stood up
and turned to me, grinning. “All the statues are generally carved
to the same specifications, Ned. Your brother is correct. Perhaps
it is simply your perspective that is different.”
    I stared at the statue, baffled.
    “ Now Kari,” Kel began. “It’s something
I’ve been meaning to ask you since we started out on this
pilgrimage. Your deity has two faces and is represented by two
different names. Is she one entity with two faces or two entities
in one? The texts at my university are…unenlightening.”
    Kari was beaming with pleasure. “I would be
most happy to tell you of our Lady when we have time to pause. If
you like, you may also read the Book of Matativi, which I carry in
my pack. Unfortunately it is written in an obsolete Methari
dialect, which may require some explanation.”
    Kel rubbed his hands together in an
explosion of academic glee. “Oh, you mean Lishmenthar? I have
studied what I could from the fragments that remain in the
archives. By the Gods, what an opportunity! Thank you, Kari. I look
forward to it.”
    “ You had better keep your opportunities to yourself when we
return to Lis,” Brin said, scowling. “The penalty for sharing
knowledge of a heretical text is ten years in the Protectors’
prison.”
    Kari turned his smile on my brother
with a hard glint in his eyes. “You had better watch what you name
as heresy in this land, tiyal .”
    To my astonishment and delight, my brother
swallowed and muttered an apology. It was a wonderful moment and I
gazed at Kari with something akin to hero worship for handing me
the rare opportunity to watch Brin squirm. Kel, obviously
uncomfortable, fingered the blue blossoms that spilled from glasses
at the statue’s feet.
    “ What’s the significance of these
flowers?” he asked, clearly hoping to lighten the mood.
    “ We call them Mataya Kari , Mata’s blessing. They grow in the
darkness, on barren soil and even on stony ground, just as love can
touch the bleakest of hearts.”
    “ Remarkable!” Lana exclaimed. “They’re
beautiful. And is that where your name comes from?”
    “ Indeed,” Kari said. “Come, it grows
dark. I will announce our presence to the Mother or Father of this
monastery. And Brindar, I would suggest you guard your tongue more
closely. While we are much more relaxed about many things than the
Protectors, the penalty for blasphemy in this land is as harsh as
it is in Lis.”
    Again Brin squirmed; again I rejoiced.
    Sometime later we were ensconced in
another austere room at the back of the Temple to share dinner with
the Father of the monastery. He spoke little of the common tongue,
and spent most of the meal asking Kari questions. The food was
simple but delicious. Beautifully served on trays on small ceramic
dishes, there was a selection of crunchy roots, delicately pickled
and sweet, brown beans in a thick sauce, and a bowl of fluffy mash
with the aroma of jasmine. Again I heard the same phrases as
before: tiyallan, Thar Mati, kath
mai . At the mention of the last one, the old monk drew
a line across his heart.
    “ We speak of the Night Walkers,” Kari
explained. “He is asking if we have encountered any so
far.”
    Then the wine was served and I thought no
more of such terrible things. We held our glasses to the sky and
drank, and I sighed with contentment. Brin was behaving himself
well and even forced himself to have a second glass. The monks were
generous with the alcohol and by the time the meal was done, the
old man began to fan himself and unraveled the silver from his head
to give us a toothless smile, his lips darkened with wine. His
ears, like Mother Kiti’s, sagged with the weight of rings and