The Sacred Depths

Wealthgiver 8

This is the eighth chapter of Wealthgiver, an alternate history serial romance about nationalism and cave-Thracians. For the back-of-the-book description and an index of chapters, click here. For the beginning, click here. For the previous chapter, click here.

MOOD MUSIC

Kori clapped as she entered her sitting room, indicating the position of the furniture. "Put him next to the stove."

The echoes faded and the picture painted itself: the thick felted carpet, the soft wall-hangings with their buzzing patterns of wire. The sharp gold and silver ornaments. The two faces carved into the wooden panels of the ceiling.

Sixteen hundred years ago, the priests of the Depths might have dragged a stranger into a dank cavern and thrown him into the stalagmite pit. Wailing priestesses would have torn this man's limbs from his body and mixed his blood into the sacred wine.

Now, Kori could recline on a divan in her private apartments, a bowl of honeyed wheat on the tray next to her, her feet warmed by a cast-iron stove. Her people had abandoned Dionysus and Ares in favor of deeper gods.

Murad and Theodoros lowered the prisoner to the carpet. Nikolai and Bogdan sat behind him. Kori turned her face toward where his must be.

"The Sacred Depths welcome you." Her words outlined a body stocky rather than tall, with powerful shoulders. His eyes were large and deep-set, his jawline sharp. Junior Physician, Captain and Baron Voropayevski. Andrei. If Kori whistled high enough, she might get a sense of the shape of his lips.

"Very well," said Nikolai. "What would you have me ask him, My Maiden?"

"Never mind about that," said Kori. "Monsieur le Baron, me comprenez-vous?"