Chapter 31: The Destroyer’s Gold

Throughout the morning, Danka sped past bewildered peasants as they lined the roads, staring at the gap in the distant mountainside where the cathedral used to be. They were so shocked by the disaster that no one bothered to take a close look at the slim feminine-looking guard galloping past on one of the most expensive horses in Central Europe. The Bishop’s horse was an excellent ride, fast but very controllable, even for an incompetent rider like herself. In fact, the ride seemed almost too good, more like she was floating through air than bouncing around on a living animal.

Danka didn’t stop again until noon, when she came up to a stream with a patch of grass next to it. She’d let the horse drink and graze while she adjusted her clothing and examined the contents of the Bishop’s saddlebag. It was heavy: full of coded messages, a Christian Bible, dried meat, preserved fruit, Turkish delight, and gold coins. Danka couldn’t believe what she was seeing. There were several coin-purses containing more than 300 large gold coins. For the first time in her life, Danka was wealthy.

She moved the Bishop’s possessions to the guard’s saddlebag and discarded the one from the Church. She removed a fine saddle-blanket with Church emblems from the horse and folded it. Her trip suddenly became much more complicated, because not only was she worried about escaping, she also was worried about safeguarding her fortune. 300 gold coins. What could she do with all that money? She’d buy land, lots of it, and put a nice house right in the center. She’d buy a library of books, and have a garden, and hire servants and guards. She’d spend long relaxing summers sitting under her fruit trees, sleeping, reading, and eating fruit. She’d bathe every day in her own heated tub. She’d never bother to wear any clothing when the weather was nice. She’d enjoy her body and her male servants would be available to pleasure her whenever she wanted. And during the winter, she’d wear the finest dresses and sit in the front row of church and go to fine parties with the wives of guild masters and city councilmen.

She decided to continue riding west, in spite of the risk from riding in broad daylight. She wanted to start her new life as soon as possible, but she also wanted to return to Rika Chorna before news of the avalanche reached the eastern capital. She stopped only long enough to let the horse graze and rest. The meat and candy were enough to keep her going, and she supplemented the preserved food with pieces of fresh fruit taken from orchards. Her plan was to return to Rika Chorna just long enough to retrieve her bucket from the safe-house, obtain a couple of different disguises, and then continue towards Novo Sumy Ris and the pass.

Four days later, Danka returned to Rika Chorna in the late afternoon. Both she and her mount were covered with dust from the lengthy trip. She entered the outskirts of the city and saluted a group of guards who returned her salute. She was very nervous the guards would more closely examine her and discover that she was a woman and that her horse was far more expensive than one normally issued to a guardsman. The Ancients continued to protect her, however. The men were distracted trying to extort an extra silver coin from a farmer attempting to bring a wagon of produce to the market square. When she moved past the checkpoint, Danka reflected on the irony of the situation. Those guards were worried about a single silver coin. Had they more closely examined her, they would have been rewarded with a haul of 300 gold pieces.

As she moved through the city, the stallion drew the attention of anyone with knowledge of horses. Even exhausted and dirty, the animal was too flashy, a liability for a person who needed to stay anonymous. Danka realized she’d have to somehow get rid of him, preferably by selling him. But, how on earth could she find a buyer for the Bishop’s horse in Rika Chorna? She’d have to somehow take him to the western valley before selling him, but she realized there was not a chance she’d ever make it. She already had drawn too much attention to herself and people would be watching to see when she left the city. The horse would undoubtedly be stolen, probably with her being murdered as part of the bargain, as soon as she resumed her journey.

The doubts about the horse expanded to doubts about the gold. To use the gold, she knew she’d have to somehow smuggle it over the pass and then find a safe location where, as a single woman, she could anonymously purchase property and avoid being cheated or double-crossed. She had to worry about being recognized almost anywhere she went in the western valley. It was possible she could buy land in Horkustk Ris province if she could travel that far, but she’d have to cobble together small parcels purchased from homesteaders, an action that was sure to draw attention from the Royal Guards and the curiosity of the Grand Duke’s informants. She arrived at the terrible realization that, although she was wealthy, it didn’t matter. Her circumstances would not allow her to enjoy that wealth. So, what was the point of attempting to transport all that gold? She’d be risking her life over nothing.

She arrived at the safe-house and announced her presence with those thoughts still on her mind. Zanktia answered the door, dressed in her nun’s habit. She was shocked to see Danka dressed as a provincial guard, but that shock quickly became irritation when she realized Danka had shown up at the safe-house with the Bishop’s horse.

“You fool! What are you doing? Move that animal away from here, immediately!”

“But, what do you want me to do with him?”

Zanktia thought for a moment, before telling Danka to take the horse to a rendezvous spot behind the city’s church. She’d send a guard to take charge of the horse, disguise him, and get him out of Rika Chorna. Danka was enormously relieved when the contact met her and took away the Bishop’s fine stallion and exchanged him for another black horse. The new horse was much more ordinary in appearance, but looked like a nice, dependable animal. Danka moved her saddlebag to the second horse. She didn’t bother moving the Bishop’s saddle.

Danka knew that she should have been upset, because she had just been horribly cheated by her co-conspirators. The Bishop’s stallion was worth far more the horse she had been given. However, she was more relieved than anything else. Both she and the Bishop’s stallion were much better off being separated. She did not have the means to take proper care of such a fine horse and she couldn’t use him or sell him without drawing attention. She had exchanged a horse she couldn’t use for one she could use. She returned to the safe-house with her new mount and led him into an adjacent stable.

Danka unloaded her saddlebag and took off her guard uniform. With Zanktia available to help her, she settled into a tub of warm water and finally was able to bathe and properly wash and re-braid her dust-filled hair. Zanktia offered her a nun’s habit, but Danka refused it. When Zanktia objected, Danka grabbed a worker’s dress for herself and insisted on putting it on.

Zanktia sent out messengers to gather the conspiracy’s members while Danka ate. Still dressed in the simple garment of a city working-woman, Danka gathered her companions around the dining table to summarize the Bishop’s pilgrimage and what she knew about how it ended. From what she had seen, the plot to assassinate the Bishop had succeeded beyond the conspirators’ wildest hopes. The entire True Believers’ hierarchy had been wiped out and their most sacred shrine completely destroyed. When her audience asked how she managed to trick the guards watching over the horses, Danka replied:

“I didn’t trick them at all. They tricked themselves. When they looked in my direction, they didn’t see me. What they saw was their own drunken fantasy. With the help of the Ancients, all I had to do was play along.”

Zanktia asked about Enockt and the men who were working with him. Danka responded that she wasn’t sure if Enockt survived the blast, but it was for sure at least one of the men setting the fuses did not. She ran past him while escaping, but when she returned to see what had happened to the church, she observed the spot where he had been stationed had completely fallen away during the landslide.

Danka had not yet mentioned anything about Enockt’s willingness to sacrifice her as part of the assassination. Resentment against him burned inside her, but if he was dead it didn’t matter. Even if he was still alive, she wouldn’t benefit by telling anyone about the betrayal before directly confronting him. She was more interested in leaving Rika Chorna. She insisted her debt to Enockt was paid and she had no further obligations.

“I’m sure a dead Bishop and a dead heir are worth far more than a dead nymph squad-leader.”

The conspirators exchanged glances with each other, as though they were bewildered and offended. Zanktia coldly looked at Danka and spoke on behalf of her companions:

“What are you talking about, with this nonsense of debt? There is no debt, and you’re not going anywhere without our orders. You’re Path in Life is to serve the Duchy, by serving us.”

“You mean, I’m not free to leave?”

“Of course you’re not free to leave. What made you think you’re free to leave? That’s why I don’t understand why you put on a worker’s dress. You need to change back into your nun’s habit because you’re going back to the convent in Novo Sokukt Tok. You’ll wait there until we can reassign you.”

Danka was speechless. She felt she was going to be ill. After everything she had endured, her only reward would be to go back to pretending to be a True Believers’ nun. She realized the group did not see her as one of them. She was nothing more than their servant. A useful servant, but a servant with no rights and no purpose in life apart from following orders and collecting information.

Before she had the chance to think of a response, a look-out excitedly showed up with the news Enockt had just entered Rika Chorna and was on his way to the house. Everyone quickly dropped their conversation with Danka. Enockt, the planner of the assassination, would have much more to say about his victory. The distraction gave Danka time to go to the storeroom where weapons were kept and pick up a goose-egg bomb. She pulled off the protective covering, thus arming the device so it would explode if she threw or dropped it. She waited in the passage entrance while the others gathered around the outer door.

Enockt entered, still wearing the worker’s clothing he had on the last time Danka saw him. The others excitedly saluted him and whistled to celebrate his victory. He froze and his smile vanished when Danka stepped out of the doorway, casually holding a bomb in her hand.

“What’s worth more, the soul of the girl from the palace, or all the others?”

“Put that down. Put the bomb down.”

“Not until you answer my question, in front of everyone here. What’s worth more, the soul of the girl from the palace, or all the others? Then you can explain why I’m asking it.”

Danka held the bomb above her head with just her thumb and one finger.

“If I drop this, all that’ll happen is I’ll die, just like you wanted. Your only problem is I’ll die in the wrong city. Isn’t that so?”

“The others, if you really must know! You’re just one person! My concern was to preserve the lives of several thousand! But right now you’re still alive! So what difference does it make?”

“Exactly! I’m still alive, and your plot succeeded anyway! So what difference would it have made to have the honor to tell me to move out of the way, since it was my information that helped you murder a church-full of people! Just a simple ‘move out before the Bishop lights his incense’. That’s it! That’s all you would have had to say to me! After all I’ve done, you really don’t think I’m worthy of a simple warning?”

“It’s of no importance. You survived! You should give thanks to the Lord-Creator, not be challenging me!”

“It is of importance! A lot of importance! I don’t work with dishonored liars! And you had better tell everyone here my debt to you is paid! Paid in full! I’m leaving this city and none of you will dare come after me!”

“Stop it, you dishonored fool!”

“NO! I will not stop it! I swear, before the Ancients I swear, I will NEVER wear a nun’s dress again, do you understand me? NEVER! I will NEVER collect any more information for you! I’m done with this conspiracy! I’ve paid my dues and I’m finished!”

The conspirators glanced at each other. Danka knew there was no way they would let her leave. Since they were about to kill her anyway, she might as well drop the bomb and take them to the Realm of the Afterlife with her. Then she remembered the Bishop’s gold. She realized what she needed to do with it: use it to ransom herself, and in doing so rid herself of its burden. The gold, stolen from the hard labor of thousands of ordinary working people, was the cursed product of great injustice and evil. It would destroy anyone who tried to keep it, including Enockt and his companions. Still holding the bomb, she held up the saddlebag with her left hand.

“I want to show you something. Once you’ve seen it, I’m sure you’ll change your minds about letting me leave.”

Danka struggled to pull out a coin purse with one hand and undo the drawstring. When she scattered the coins across the room, the expressions of her handlers completely changed. One of the men bent down to pick up a coin, but Danka shook the bomb, which was a very risky thing for her to do. The conspirators hissed in fright and held up their hands.

“That’s only a small part of what’s in this saddlebag. I took it from the Bishop. If you want the rest, I’ll give it to you, in exchange for a few trivial things. I want a longbow and arrows and some more crossbow bolts. I want a clean set of guard’s clothing and a standard traveling kit with unused supplies. As payment for my services, I want 50 silver pieces, which is a bargain compared to what I’m about to give you. Give me those things, let me walk out of here and mount my horse, close the door behind me, and we will part ways.”

In spite of his desire to keep Danka under his control and punish her for calling him a “dishonored liar”, Enockt told the others to bring her bucket and the other items she demanded, including the silver coins. Seeing the gold completely changed him. He didn’t care about his informant or the insult: the only thing he wanted was the contents of her saddlebag. To speed up the delivery of her items and to prove she still had most of the coins in her possession, Danka scattered another bag of gold on the floor. She warned the others not to touch it until she was outside.

The conspirators were no longer looking at her at all: they were looking at the coins. When she saw the greed in their expressions and the weird glint in their eyes, Danka’s belief the gold had a special curse on it seemed to be confirmed. Something definitely was not right about that fortune. She could feel it. She felt no remorse about leaving it to people she hated. Instead, all she felt was relief it no longer was her problem. She emptied a two more purses of coins on the floor. A couple of coins dropped between floorboards, to the dismay of the conspirators.

Danka set the saddlebag against the wall behind her while she moved her bucket, clothing, and traveling kit out the door. She had to move everything with only one hand while holding the bomb in the other. She could only hope that, once she was outside, the others would be too busy picking up coins to worry about stopping her.

“I’m sure you think I’m an idiot, leaving this fortune behind, or that I’m doing you a favor. I’m not. I know for a fact this gold is cursed. The only person I’m doing a favor for is myself.”

When she stepped outside, one of the conspirators slammed the door shut and dropped the crossbar. She went to the stable, saddled and loaded her horse, and changed into her guard outfit. She had been right about her companions: they were too distracted by the fortune to worry about pursuing her. She replaced the cap on the bomb and gently set it down. She didn’t care who found it. That no longer was her concern.

The disguised traveler rode through the western sector of Rika Chorna in the middle of the night. No one took notice of a slightly-built provincial guard riding an ordinary-looking horse. She left the town and emerged into open countryside. She wondered what to do. The allure of returning to the western valley had faded, but she certainly didn’t want to stay in the Vice-Duchy. She thought about the region’s odious ruler, its odious religious leaders, and the equally odious people who conspired against them. The sooner the Destroyer dealt with all of them, the better.

She had been riding for a couple of hours when the horse suddenly stopped. He whinnied and backed away from something that obviously had frightened him. She tried to get him to move forward, but he shook his head and whinnied in protest. The animal absolutely refused to go any further. The rider reached for her crossbow. She saw nothing, but a strong premonition entered her thoughts, a warning from the Ancients that she shouldn’t continue towards Novo Sumy Ris. She decided to turn around and avoid whatever had spooked her horse. Life had taught her that whenever she had a premonition, she’d better heed it.

She directed the horse along a country lane to distance herself from the road. She figured the animal needed to graze and she badly needed to rest. She had endured an entire week with almost no sleep at all. She crossed some fields before coming across a poorly-maintained orchard. It was evident the owner was poor, so perhaps in exchange for one of her silver pieces she could count on him for a couple of meals, a place for the horse to rest and graze, and a safe place to set up her tent and sleep. She changed into her worker’s dress, approached the cottage, and introduced herself as Vesna Roguskt. A destitute-looking family blankly stared at her until she held out the coin. It was a small fortune for them, as it would have been for her father ten years before. Assured by the parents that the children would take care of the horse and make sure he was fed and watered, she set up her bedroll and tent under one of the trees and promptly fell asleep. She woke up in the late afternoon just long enough to indulge herself in some stew and half-a-roasted chicken. She wanted to resume her journey, but was too tired. She decided to obey the needs of her body and continued resting.

She didn’t wake up again until the middle of the night. She thought about leaving, but was hungry and wasn’t sure she’d find all of her belongings in the darkness. She saw no harm in waiting until the following morning. She got up and went to the cottage. The farmer’s wife gave her another bowl of stew and a scrawny roasted rabbit. As they conversed, Vesna emphasized her lower-class accent, putting her host at ease by letting her know they were both peasants. The visitor didn’t talk much about herself, but asked questions about the area to find out what she could about people she needed to avoid, such as tax collectors, guards, and church officials.

Vesna stayed with her hosts for three days. A heavy rainstorm prevented her from leaving on the second day. She was glad about that, because she realized she needed the sleep. Finally, when she was ready to depart, she left a second silver coin with her hosts. Might as well let someone have a good year, she thought as she saddled her horse and prepared to ride off.

Vesna realized she didn’t know her horse’s name, if he even had one. She decided to call him Moonlight, since she expected to be riding him mostly at night. She would have to train him to respond to that name. She had no proof she was his owner, so the only thing she could fall back on was having him respond when she called him.

Vesna resumed her journey towards Novo Sumy Ris and the pass. She changed into her guard outfit and approached the main road. She pulled back when she heard the galloping of a platoon of mounted guards. They sped by, carrying black mourning banners. In the Vice-Duchy, a black banner was the sign that an important person had died. It wasn’t hard to figure out the news of the deaths of the Bishop and the Vice-Duke’s oldest son had just caught up with her. As if to answer that suspicion, Church bells rang all around her to announce the Vice-Duchy had just entered a period of mourning. The roads were closed and anyone attempting to travel along them would be arrested for disrespect, so Vesna would have to give up her plan to return to the western valley through the pass.

She remembered a possible alternative route, which might actually be better if it allowed her to avoid the Vice-Duchy’s guards. When she was living with the Followers of the Ancients and visiting the cave-charcoal mines, the elders had mentioned a couple of paths going east through the forest and eventually leading to another set of mines. Beyond those mines, even further to the east, were several small silver mines the Followers avoided because they were under the control of owners from the Vice-Duchy. It seemed the paths could all be traveled by horse. Assuming the information was correct, it would be possible to ride from Platnackt Dek, the northernmost town in the Vice-Duchy, to Severckt nad Goradki, the northernmost town in the western valley. Vesna figured the alternate route was worth investigating. Going over the main pass was no longer an option, and probably wouldn’t be for the rest of the year.

Vesna avoided the main road as she moved north. She traveled along country lanes as church bells continued ringing all around her. She traveled at a casual pace, more interested in keeping Moonlight healthy than she was in moving quickly. She’d have to take proper care of her horse. She’d have no way of escaping the Vice-Duchy if anything happened to him.