Saving A Priestess
Jilla gets involved in a rescue in this fantasy-mystery short story
Jilla had no aversion to going to the Temple of the Moon Goddess. If she had a deity to pray to, and sometimes she did, it was the Moon Goddess. Nor did she have any problem with going to this particular Temple in the city of Badin. This was her first time in the small city, that was also a small kingdom, and so she was certain she’d done nothing there that would annoy any of the Priestesses in the Temple.
Being summoned to the Temple by the High Priestess had concerned her. Her experience had been that that the Priestesses didn’t always appreciate the tales that surrounded Jilla the Rogue. She’d broken laws and savaged customs. She was never barred from a Temple for her behavior, but neither had she been welcomed as a paragon of one of the Goddess’ followers.
Indeed, Jilla might have ignored the summons, except for two reasons. One was that Badin was so far turning out to be a wasted visit for her. The city-kingdoms of the region didn’t get along with each other. Alliances shifted back and forth. Sometimes trade was good and sometimes it was weak. The only ones to profit from this were the Kings, the most skilled of soldiers, and the slave traders who dealt in captives and their descendants. Jilla had yet to find a desirable target to steal from.
The other was that part of the summons read, “I need your help, urgently.” An urgent plea from a High Priestess was something Jilla wasn’t going to ignore.
So it was that she walked into the Temple in Badin and identified herself to the first Priestess she met. The white-robed young woman at once took her through the building and past the altar to one of the small chambers beneath the public area. Jilla wasn’t taken to one of the sleeping rooms but to something that resembled a shop’s working room, albeit with no decoration and no windows.
Sitting behind a writing table was a short woman with dark hair. She wore a strip of yellow cloth around her head. When she looked up, Jilla saw relief in the woman’s eyes, but also age. How much age Jilla couldn’t guess, because instead of the usual magical lighting, the room was lit with a handful of candles.
“You are Jilla, I trust?” the woman asked in a weighted tone.
“I am,” Jilla answered.
The woman rose and came around the table. “I am High Priestess Morri.”
Jilla bowed her head.
“Leave us,” Morri said the Priestess that had escorted Jilla there. The young woman bowed her head and dashed away. Morri closed the door behind her.
“We must speak quickly, and not be overheard,” Morri said. “The fewer that know you’re here, the better.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“One of our Priestesses, Flira, has been abducted by the local leader of outlaws, Teven.”
Jilla’s eyes widened. “He would dare?” she gasped.
Morri shook her head. “His message said he would not.”
“Message?”
Morri went back to the writing table. She turned something with her right hand. There was a click, and she pulled open a drawer.
“A hidden drawer?”
“Useful, what with how rivalries in these parts change.” Morri took out a scrap of parchment. “Can you read our tongue?”
“I can only speak it, and not always well.”
“I see. The message from Teven was short. It was tied to a rock laid at the Temple entrance. One of the Priestesses found it just as morning cleaning began. It says that Flira will not be harmed in any way, nor debased, so long as a ransom of twenty gold is paid.”
“Paid? To him?”
“I presume so.”
“Will she be exchanged?”
“I presume that as well. The message says that I, or one of my Priestesses, must be at the Inn of the Hart.”
“When?”
“Five days from this one.”
“How much time has passed since the message was found?”
“Just this morning.”
Jilla let out a sigh. “This seems a strange way of getting gold, High Priestess.”
Morri nodded. “I quite agree. Teven and his men have to know that we of the Moon Goddess are not rich. What wealth we do have goes to caring for the poor and the sick.”
“It’s not as though he’s doing this to buy the Temple.”
“That would be impossible.”
“Is the city so poor that there’s no one else he could kidnap and hold for ransom?”
“No.”
“Then there must be some other reason for this scheme.”
“That’s what I thought. Which is why I summoned you.”
Jilla stood straight. “What would you have me do, High Priestess?”
“We cannot pay the ransom. We also haven’t the skills to learn why this is happening. I should like you to find out what’s going on.”
“I’ll do my best, but as I’m a stranger here, I’m not sure the local thieves will speak with me.”
“Avoid them if you can. All answer to Teven.”
“Done.”
“Furthermore, Jilla, I should like you to acquire the ransom.”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
“By what road did you enter the city?”
“The west road.” A memory entered her mind. “I passed by a small group of slave traders coming this way.” She shuddered. “I didn’t like how they looked at me.”
Morri sneered. “Such men, and they are all men, do evil work, keeping captives and their sons and daughters in chains. Yet as along as those swine profit, they can pay the Kings to look the other way when their trade comes. I know that another band of them is due in this city tomorrow.”
“Would it be a shame if they didn’t arrive?”
“Not even their own relatives would be shamed at their disappearance.”
“What if the fellows aren’t rich?”
“Get what you can and report back to me.”
“Then what?”
“I shouldn’t like you to take on Teven and attempt a rescue, but if that’s what must be done, then I’ll do all I can to help.”
Jilla shook her head. “I hope it won’t come to that. I’ll take on those wretched slave traders, then see what else can be done.”
“May the Goddess keep you, Jilla.”
Jilla bowed her head. It was Morri who, without another word, showed Jilla out of the temple.
At once Jilla headed out of the city. She suspected that the party of slave traders was still another day from getting to the city. She made good time traveling on her own, yet it was after dark when she got to their camp.
There were six men moving some thirty slaves, most of whom were adult men and women. Four of the six rode horses while the other two drove a wagon with supplies. The slaves were chained to the wagon. Five of the six men were asleep on the road. The sixth sat atop the wagon, armed with a crossbow, and keeping watch.
Jilla decided that once she knew the layout of the camp, she’d attack the best she could. She began by sinking a knife into the back of the man on watch duty. He let out a muffled cry, but it didn’t wake up anyone in the camp.
Jilla drew her other knife. She was able to stab three of the remaining five before the last two woke up. She grabbed a sword from one of the dead men and engaged the last two men.
They tried to get around her so that one would be behind her. The stirring of their horses and the bodies of their comrades kept them from undertaking this silent plan with enough speed to surprise her. One stumbled but remained standing and able to parry her probing strikes. The other tripped and fell.
Though she knew proper fighting techniques, Jilla was never one for propriety when she was in a real scrap. She dashed towards the man who’d fallen. She stepped on his throat with the heel of one of her boots to prevent him from getting up quickly. She struck at the other with a fury of quick blows. Her assault sent him back into the wagon. She jabbed the point of the sword into his thigh.
Instantly she turned on the other man, who was finally back on his feet, though coughing up a storm. She came at him with a rush. He was able to hold off her first few strikes. Then a cough and a shake of his head left him open. She thrust forward with her sword into the man’s chest. She didn’t bother to take it out, presuming that it might be stuck, and deciding that there wasn’t the time to find out one way or the other.
She turned to the last man still standing. He’d taken a defensive stance and was favoring his good leg. She shifted her knife from her left hand to her right and threw it at him. It caught him in the upper arm. He cried out but seemed to remain in his stance.
She didn’t wait for him to react further. She started at him while he was still grimacing from the knife wound. She easily evaded his one attempt at a blow with his sword. She kneed him in his groin. She yanked his sword from his hand, turned it, and shoved it into his chest.
She stood for a moment, catching her breath. Finally she was able to relax and look around the camp. “Seven of ten for the ambush,” she said quietly, “but eight of ten for the fight. I might need to ease up on the thieving and practice my fighting skills.”
After a few moments she was able to calm the slaves. She had no trouble getting them out of their chains and shackles. She was able to get a few of the freed men to help her move the bodies of the slave traders out of the road and well into the wooded wilderness along the road. Once that was done she had everyone sleep until well after dawn.
Once the sun was up she was able to count up what she’d taken from the slave traders. They had on them and in the wagon some nine gold, fifteen silver, and ten copper. She claimed the gold and five silver for herself. The rest she gave to the freed slaves. As some were born slaves and others captives, she told the group to head back the way they came. She urged them to avoid cities as best they could. She didn’t let them take the horses or the wagon. Although selling the horses would make them coins, there was too much of a risk in selling stolen horses. Instead she scattered the mounts and the horses pulling the wagon. With that done she made her way back to the city of Badin and the Temple. She was taken directly to High Priestess Morri.
“A good night out of the city, Jilla?” the woman asked.
“Yes and no. I did well in the fight. However, the take wasn’t as good as we’d hoped.” Jilla put the nine gold on the table. “I’m keeping five silver as part of my fee.”
“That’s fair, but we’re eleven short.”
“I know. They might have been better picking if they’d made it here.”
Morri shook her head. “It takes days for those beasts to sell slaves. How many did they have with them?”
“Thirty.”
“Bah! At most another six or seven. We’d still be short.”
“I forgot yesterday to ask about the Priestess they’re holding captive. Who is she?”
“Flira? Neither rich nor a great beauty, Jilla.”
“What of her family?”
“She’s the daughter of Ganac, a wool merchant.”
“His only child?”
“No. She’s second of two daughters. Youngest of three children.”
“Then this man has a son as well?”
“Yes.”
“How are they?”
“Well. The older daughter and the son are married. Ganac’s son will inherit the trade when his father passes, which shouldn’t be for some years. Why?”
“A few thoughts came into my head on the way back here, High Priestess. The first was that this was a scheme by the father to get back his child.”
Morri shook her head again. “Ganac was happy that we could give her both a place and a purpose.”
“Fair enough. My next thought was that this was some family scheme.”
“Not likely.”
“The daughter is happy to be away from the wool trade?”
“She married a scribe. Couldn’t be happier.”
“That leads me to another thought. Suppose you couldn’t call upon me. What would you have done, once you got that message?”
“Went to Ganac and asked him to help pay.”
“Could he have?”
Morri sighed. “He would have had to sell everything.”
“To whom?”
“I don’t know. I hear much in the city, but I’ve yet to hear any massive demand for wool, or for the shop of a wool merchant.”
Jilla took in a breath. “It might be the trade itself that someone is after.”
“The wool trade? Are you serious?”
Jilla sighed. “High Priestess, the only other explanation for this is that somehow Flira had someone send you that threat, because she’d either trying to cheat the Temple or her father.”
“No. Flira is devoted, and no man has been pursuing her since she joined us.”
“Before?”
“Not with any passion. I would have hesitated to accept her if that was so.”
“I suspected as much. Tell me, was it much of a secret that Flira came here?”
“Not much of a secret. Why do you ask?”
“I still think the wool trade is the reason for this abduction. If that’s so, then Flira, being out and about helping folk, made the easiest target for whoever is behind her kidnapping. Do you think if I went to Ganac right away he’d see me?”
Morri shook her head. “It’s late spring, Jilla. While the early spring shearing is done, the spring trading is underway. He won’t have free time until we reach the Solstice.”
“All right. I’ll do some quiet asking around, then visit Ganac once the sun sets. Where can I find his shop and his home?”
Morri told her how to find the man. With that Jilla left the Temple. She went around the city, asking discrete questions about Ganac, his friends, his rivals, and the local thieves. The only interesting piece of information she gained was that Teven was supposed to be clever and a less-violent outlaw leader than those who came before him.
After the sun went down Jilla made her way to the wool merchant’s house. It wasn’t a particularly secure residence, so she had no trouble getting in. Nor was the house occupied by too many. It seemed to her that there was a servant’s room on the ground floor and owner’s chambers among one of a few rooms on the upper floor. She drew her knife, slipped through the unlocked door, and used the blade to wake the one man sleeping in the bed.
“Don’t cry out,” she whispered. “I’m not here to harm you.”
“Who are you?” the man demanded, his voice low and harsh.
“Who I am isn’t important. Your daughter Flira is.”
“Flira is a Priestess, outlaw!”
“She is indeed a Priestess, and right now she’s being held by an outlaw.”
“You?”
“Teven.”
“What do you want?”
“Have you annoyed the local outlaws recently?”
“No!”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes!”
“What about rivals?”
“No one hates me enough to kidnap my daughter. No one hates me enough to insult her, much less me.”
“If I looked around the house, I wouldn’t find her here, would I?”
“No!”
“There hasn’t been some young man around to your house asking about her, has there?”
“No.”
Jilla blew out a breath. “High Priestess Morri said as much.”
Even in the dim light of the bedchambers she could see the man’s eyes widen. “The High Priestess? What’s going on? Is Flira safe?”
“For now. Two days ago someone left a rock with a message in front of the Temple. Teven claims he’s holding Flira. She won’t be harmed if the Temple pays a ransom for her safe return.”
“What’s the ransom?”
“Twenty gold.”
“That’s quite a lot for one Priestess. Who are you, girl?”
“Jilla. Perhaps you’ve heard of me.”
The man gasped.
Jilla jabbed his neck with her knife. “Hush. High Priestess Morri hired me to get Flira returned safe. The exchange is supposed to happen at the Inn of the Hart in a few days. What do you know of that place?”
“Only that it tends be where you can find the outlaws of the city. Or find those who can find them.”
“Have you ever had to find them?”
“I’m a wool merchant. Why would I need to?”
“True. If the High Priestess came to you, asking for the whole ransom, could you pay it?”
“Yes, but it would leave me with nothing.”
“Nothing? What about your shop?”
“I’d have to sell that to eat. I’d probably have to sell it anyway, since I don’t have twenty gold on me.”
“How much do you have?”
“Ten for certain. Perhaps twelve or thirteen.”
“Very well. Take what you can find in the morning to the Temple. Tell those who work at your shop that your daughter is in trouble, but the matter is being taken care of.”
“Why?”
“Someone knows your situation, my good man. I believe this scheme is to force you to sell your shop. But why are they after you, and not any other merchant or tradesman? And how do they know to target you?”
“I have no consort with criminals.”
“No, but the High Priestess told me it was no secret that your youngest daughter became a Priestess. I suspect Flira was taken because, as one of the Priestesses of the Moon Goddess, she’d be on her own in the city offering aid. She be a young woman, making her way through the city alone. From what I know, most Priestesses enter as common young women. It’s rare for the daughter of a man of any means to follow the Moon Goddess in quite that way.
“All that makes sense to me. What doesn’t make sense is why Teven, or someone else, has it in for you. My hope is that, when you tell your workers that there’s trouble with Flira, one of them will report this to whoever paid him for information on your family.”
“What else should I do?”
“Nothing, Ganac. Only do as I’ve told you. Nothing more. Your daughter will come out of this fine, but only of you heed my words.” She poked him with her knife once more. “Understand?”
He nodded.
“Good. Remember, give the gold to the Temple, then tell your workers. Sleep well.” With that Jilla slipped out of the man’s room. She made her way to the Temple where, after reporting to Morri, she was allowed to sleep for the night.
She kept out of sight when Ganac came to the Temple in the morning to hand over the gold. Once he left she followed him from the Temple to his shop. There, dressed in rags and seeming to be a poor beggar girl, she kept watch on the man’s shop.
All was quiet at the shop until early in the afternoon. She saw a man leave by the front door and make his way down the street. She kept behind him and largely out of his view as he made his was from the shop, located at the north side of the central district of the city, to a rougher neighborhood along the river that cut through the city. The man walked into a tavern with a deer over the door. It was the Inn of the Hart.
The man wasn’t there long enough to drink a mug, much less eat a meal. She watched him as he made his way back to the shop. An hour or so before sunset he left with everyone else and made his way home. His cottage was just a few streets away from the shop, in a poor but otherwise decent neighborhood. She gave herself clues to remember where the house was. She raced back to the Temple, at supper, and changed.
On the way to the Temple the notion entered her mind to use magic to get the man to talk. The trouble she saw with such an effort would be paying a witch. She wasn’t swimming in silver, and asking the High Priestess to pay for such an expense felt exploitative. She also worried about having to explain why she wanted a spell, and thus letting someone know what was going on with Flira.
Secrecy was needed for this adventure, she decided. That meant she’d have to resort to means other than magic to get to the truth.
She made her way back to the man’s cottage. She had no difficulty sneaking in. Doing so put her directly in the man’s bedroom. From what she remembered, the man was tall, thin, and young. He was neither handsome nor ugly. He was sleeping alone.
She drew her knife, stuck it next to his throat, and snapped, “Wake up, rascal!”
“Who are you?” he squeaked.
“Never you mind. If I search this place, will I find Priestess Flira?”
“No!”
“Keep your voice down! Why did you visit the Inn of the Hart earlier?”
He shuddered but didn’t speak.
“I’ll draw blood if I have to. Answer!”
“I told Teven the coins were coming.”
“That’s all?”
“Yes!”
“What’s this scheme about? Why does he want a Priestess?”
“He doesn’t want her. He wants Ganac’s shop.”
“Why does he want Ganac’s shop?”
“A way to move coins around, he said.”
“What does he mean by that?”
“I don’t know! That’s all he told me!”
“How did he get his hands on you?”
“There was a girl. I got her pregnant. I needed coins to marry her. Teven would loan them to me, but only if I helped him get Ganac’s shop.”
“Where is this girl?”
“With her parents. Once I have the coins we’ll be married.”
“You’re part of a scheme to kidnap a Priestess and demand a ransom for her safety. If you want to see this girl again, you’ll keep quiet about this visit.”
“Why? Who are you?”
Jilla poked the man’s neck with her knife again. “I’m someone who doesn’t like it when Priestesses get taken for ransom. That’s all you need to worry about. Close your eyes.”
The man did as she told him. Jilla slipped back out of his cottage. She waited a moment to find out if he’d shout for help. When no further sounds came from the cottage, she made her way back to the Temple.
There she told Morri what she’d learned. Jilla speculated that the scheme was to leave Ganac broke and having to sell his shop. One of Teven’s men would purchase it. Teven’s gang could then use the shop to move stolen coins and goods, and use the shop as a way to both earn honest coins and expand their criminal trade to other cities.
Jilla spent the following day idle, except for buying a small club. The day after that, at the appointed time, she was dressed in the gown and robe of a Priestess, and made her way to the Inn of the Hart with the ransom. She took the club she’d bought the previous day with her. Before entering the Inn, she placed it against one of the exterior walls. With that done she entered the tavern.
It was much like any other she’d visited in her life. There was an open area with tables and chairs. There was a counter in front of the wall opposite the street entrance. Bottles and casks of liquor sat between the counter and the wall. The place was lit with lanterns and not candles, which made it a bit more respectable. However, there was sawdust all over the floor, and that made Jilla think the place had been a mess the previous night.
She was met at the door by a tall, burly man with a scar on his right cheek. He fell in behind her as she walked to a table. Sitting at the table was a young woman in white, who was Flira. Next to her was a man wearing clean clothes and grinning from ear to ear. Standing behind him was another tall and burly man, though with a broken nose instead of a scar.
“Teven, I trust?” Jilla said to the seated man.
“You’re not the High Priestess.”
Jilla tossed the sack of gold coins on the table. “This is as much as she’ll have to do with you. This, and cursing your name to the Goddess.”
The man took the sack. He opened it and counted out the coins. While he did so, Jilla turned to Flira. She saw the young woman’s eyes were wide. She gave Flira a quick frown and a short shake of her head.
The man looked at Jilla. “Well, it is all here.” He turned to Flira. “You may go with her.” Flira stood up. When she was at Jilla’s side, Jilla took her by the hand and led out her outside the tavern.
Once on the street Jilla pointed in the direction she came. “There’s a couple of soldiers on patrol. You’d best go to them and summon them here.”
“Why? And who are you? You’re not a Priestess!”
Jilla picked up the club and grinned to Flira. “No, I am not. You’d best get the soldiers. There’s going to be a ruckus.”
Flira gulped then dashed away.
Jilla went back into the tavern, keeping the club behind her back. The man at the door moved to stop her. “What do you want?”
“I want the gold back,” Jilla answered mildly.
The man turned towards the table. “Hey, Teven, the Priestess wants the gold back!”
He turned to face Jilla just in time to see her swing the club at his right knee. When he bent down in pain, Jilla thumped the side of his face as hard as she could with the club. She didn’t wait for him to fall to the floor, and instead pushed him aside.
The man who’d been behind Teven had come around the table and was charging at her. Jilla ducked down to avoid him. Letting him overshoot her, she turned to Teven, who was on his feet and making for the counter. She tossed the club at him. It caught him in the back of his head, sending him face-first into the front of the counter.
She jerked herself around to face the second thug. He took a wild swing at her with his right hand. She evaded his blow and launched one of her own at his belly. He paused for an instant, but that was enough time for her duck and punch up into his groin. She rose up and pushed him to the floor.
She ran at Teven, who was staggering to his feet. With a grunt she smashed her fist into his face. She shook her hand to recover from the sting, then connected a second blow to his jaw. That blow sent him flopping to the floor.
Just then the door burst open and two soldiers entered. “What’s going on here?” one of them asked.
Jilla turned their way. She saw Flira enter behind them. “Teven here kidnapped that Priestess,” she said between breaths. “Ransom was twenty gold. I came back here to retrieve it, for the Temple and for her father.”
“You’re going to have to come with us.”
“You’d best get some help. Even though these three are down, I doubt they’ll come willingly, even if I lend you a hand.”
“Led us a hand? Who are you?”
“Jilla the Rogue. Pleased to meet you both.”
With that one of the soldiers told Flira to find others to assist. She returned not too many moments later with more soldiers, High Priestess Morri, and Ganac. Along with the three criminals, they all walked to the small castle. Once there and before King Luvos, Morri explained the situation. Flira told of how she’d been taken. Ganac told of his meeting with Jilla. Jilla told of what she’d learned, and how she’d managed to dispatch three men, all of whom were at least a head taller than she was.
“Clearly you’ve done some good here,” King Luvos admitted to Jilla.
“Your Majesty, I’ve done a lot of good,” Jilla replied. “You have reason to keep Teven and two of his gang in jail for years. Anyone else working for him who aided in the kidnapping can also be punished. The High Priestess can keep the gold I brought her, and Ganac can get back his contribution. Most of all, Teven’s gang won’t own an honest shop so as to protect and expand their dishonest trade.”
“Jilla, where did you come up with the gold to give to the Temple?”
“Why do you ask, Your Majesty?”
“A group of slave traders was expected in the city a few days ago. They’ve not turned up, but a wagon and some horses were spotted not far from here.”
“Are you troubled that something happened to them?”
“I am. As I’m troubled about the slaves not reaching here.”
“You are, Your Majesty? Why? Were they captives taken from your domain?”
The King’s back stiffened. “What?”
“Well, Your Majesty, it occurs to me that if they were captives, then in allowing them to be taken, you endangered your own subjects.” Jilla raised her hands. “Not that I’d accuse you of that. All I hear is that you’re a good and noble King.”
“Yes?”
“If, though, these slaves were captives from other domains, then perhaps it would do you in good stead with the rulers of those domains to say that these traders had vanished and their subjects were able to return home.”
“Yes, it would,” the King said, drawing out the words.
“But let’s say that some, if not all, were born into slavery. That means it’s possible that their parents were once your subjects, or subjects of another domain. Do you wish to be known as a King who lets his subjects be taken away forever? Or do you wish to be known as a King who protects his subjects, and those descended from his subjects?”
The King opened his mouth, closed it, then frowned. “Those aren’t easy questions to answer, Jilla.”
“Then perhaps it would be wiser of Your Majesty not to ask,” Morri said.
Jilla could see at once that the King wasn’t about the push harder over what happened to the slave traders. To do so would be to admit, in front of important subjects of his, that he might be willing to let other lands take his subjects as captives. Doing that was troublesome but easily ignored. Saying that would be to admit to some lack of compassion for those the King ruled over. The words would draw a target on his back for anyone upset with any part of his rule, including the matter of losing captives in a conflict with another realm.
That ended the discussion, and the meeting itself. Everyone gave sworn statements and were allowed to go on their way. Ganac wanted Flira to remain with him for a day to get over his worry over her safety. That allowed Jilla to accompany Morri back to the Temple.
“You may have talked the King into pausing the slave trade,” Morri said, “if not putting it to an end here in Badin.”
“I may have, High Priestess,” Jilla replied. “I think it’ll be up to you, and others like you, to make certain of that.”
“Oh, we will. But we are just one small kingdom among several small kingdoms, Jilla. What the King of Badin does will have little effect on the rest.”
“Doesn’t the Moon Goddess say something about lighting the way in the dark?”
“True. But the Goddess also tells us that we should not be the only one to carry a light in the darkness. One light can only do so much.”
“I remember that as well, yes.”
Morri touched Jilla’s arm to stop their walk. Jilla was surprised at how casually the High Priestess was able to put two gold coins into Jilla’s right hand without attracting any attention from those walking past them on the street in the center of the city.
“What’s this?” Jilla asked, careful not to hold up her hand.
“Profit.”
“Profit?” An idea burst into Jilla’s head. She smiled at Morri. “High Priestess, you’re not encouraging me to break more laws, are you?”
Morri shook her head. “There are man’s laws, and then there is the law of the Gods. Too many of the faithful follow the former and not the latter. It might do for someone to give the folk of this region some encouragement to do more of the latter.”
“Such as respecting the creations of the Goddess?”
“Indeed. If the Goddess is the Mother of the World, then enslaving another is enslaving your own brother or sister.”
“Some might say that’s a creative way of interpreting the Sacred Texts.”
“Some might, yes.” Morri smiled. “Some might say that those who profit from the misery of others are lost in the eyes of the Sun and the Moon, Jilla.”
“If man’s law cannot punish those who cause such suffering, aren’t the Gods supposed to do that?”
“Perhaps a reign of terror against slave traders by a famed rogue is just what the Gods want to have done, Jilla.”
Jilla put the coins in her coin purse. “I don’t know about that. But this was a more profitable time here than I thought it would be.”
“Just so long as you do proper penance for your deeds, my child.”
“You wouldn’t happen to know anyone who might help me continue this righteous crusade, would you?”
Morri grinned. “I may know someone.”
Jilla let out a laugh. “And I told myself I needed to practice fighting more and thieving less.”
You can find this in the first Jilla the Rogue book The Golem of Justice. Find it at your favorite store here.
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Happy writing & happy reading!
That's a really good piece, sets up the rest of the book well, I think!