The banners that hung from the Crimson Highway fort in front of the Eye of Maga were the only movement in front of the gate. Just one Highwayman came out to speak with the weary and wounded travellers as they arrived. He anxiously apologized for their trouble on the Highway, before confiscating their red coin and wishing them a good stay in the city.
The streets of Maga had not noticed the state of the adjacent lands. They were abuzz with activity: shopkeepers pitched their wares, workers laden with construction materials navigated the crowds, wealthy patrons rolled through the chaos in pony-pulled carts or were borne over the crowds in litters carried by servants.
Aralim and his escort moved slowly. The guards pushed aside those townsfolk that were too ignorant to move aside. They made space for Lerela’s stretcher as they slowly pushed through the throngs. Soon enough, the Palace of Maga, with its stone supports and enormous wood-beam walls, dwarfed the street ahead of them. Nilless eagerly looked down each side-street as they went. As they had arrived, Nill had noticed the narrow width of the city, and its spread-out circumference. The Eye of Maga was built around it’s namesake lake, the Eye.
“Welcome back, Ambassador,” called the sergeant of the Palace’s guards as Aralim and his friends arrived. The Sight Benders allowed Aralim and his party entrance to the Palace grounds without as much delay as before. Rel was summoned to greet them.
When he spotted Lerela’s stretcher, Rel immediately waved them to follow him to a healer. “What happened to you? Did you even reach Tal’lashar?”
“We were attacked on our return from Tal’lashar,” Aralim explained, though he carried the stretcher ahead quickly. It was not time to stop and speak. “It appears you have a bandit problem outside your city.”
They crossed beneath a flight of stairs and into the eastern wing of the Palace. As he walked, Rel quickly explained, “We’re well aware of the bandit plague. The Crimson Highwaymen have been dispatched after a few other wounded travellers made it back.”
Reaching the infirmary, Rel revealed a nearly empty room despite his remark. Only two of the twenty beds were occupied. He called for the physician.
“Fighting bandits with bandits,” Aralim muttered as he helped Grendar shift Lerela onto a feather mattress. He glanced at Rel again as a healer crossed the room from an office at the other end. Aralim told him, “I’m just glad we made it here. If anyone can help Lerela, it’s the medics of Maga.”
Rel lowered an eyebrow at Aralim, but then looked back to the specialist. The healer took a moment to remove Lerela’s bandage and clean up Grendar’s makeshift haircut. He grimaced as he examined her fractured skull. “I can stabilize her, but I don’t think I can do anything to bring her out of this state. Master Rel, is Pralla Maga-sha in the Palace?”
“I don’t believe so,” Rel muttered. He turned to a servant. “Find out if she is and report back to me and to the infirmary.” The servant bowed and gently stepped out into the corridor. “In the meantime, why don’t we get you and your friends settled into proper accommodations.”
By the time they reached the guest quarters, the servant had caught up with them and reported that the healer known as Pralla Maga-sha was not currently in the Palace. Rel showed Devran and Nill to their respective quarters first—Aralim wondered absently if Rel had identified that Nill was a different woman than Dullah. After all, the steward had asked if they had even reached Tal’lashar. Next, Rel showed the guards their quarters. Lastly, Rel brought Aralim to the same room that he had stayed in before, a proper suite for foreign dignitaries.
After Aralim had set down his pack, Rel turned to leave. “Before you go,” Aralim said, “Do you have a moment?”
Rel turned back and bowed. “Of course.”
“Admittedly, I don’t know how big of a favour this is: I would like to discuss the process of getting Lerela treatment through the waters of Maga…” Aralim trailed off. It was Rel who had first told him of the Eye’s—or the Goddess’s—mighty restorative powers.
The short man frowned. “I see. I will ask King Eilar about this matter, but he is stubborn when it comes to the Eye. You must understand—no one has used the healing waters in nearly a year.”
“I see. May I ask Eilar myself? It seems rude not to ask personally.”
Rel scratched his scalp through his shoulder-length brown hair and then nodded. “I will ask him about a private meeting, but otherwise you can certainly speak with him at his next public audience. Please, give me a few hours to get some more information.”
“Of course. Thank you for your kindness, as always,” Aralim said, and gave the Royal Aide a quick bow.
After Rel had left, Aralim unpacked some of his things and changed into a spare set of clothes; his robe would need a quick wash after the arduous trek through the savanna. He went in search of his comrades, but it seemed that most had retired to an early rest. It was only midafternoon, but the travellers were severely fatigued. Only Carrak was awake; he was sharpening his sword as he sat in a social alcove in the hallway that joined their rooms. Grendar, he said, was keeping vigil at Lerela’s bedside.
A few hours later, Rel reported back to Aralim. According to him, Eilar had requested that Aralim meet with him in front of the court at his next public audience, as “the state of the Eye of Maga concerns all under his domain.”
Aralim shrugged. The King could have refused him outright. “How long until his next audience?” he asked.
“Eleven days,” Rel said, after a quick mental recollection. “The fifth of the next Moon.”
Aralim nodded. “I have one more question, if you have the time.” When Rel bowed, he asked, “Why has King Eilar denied access to the Eye for so long?”
“He believes it is unsafe to enter,” Rel explained. He tilted his head back, and spoke his next words with his skeptic’s voice. “The Goddess grew angry at us for our treatment of the late Queen Zanna. Even now, Pralla Maga-sha seeks a way for penance.”
Aralim blinked. “Thank you. That gives me something to think about in the coming days.”
“Indeed,” Rel responded, with a nod.
Aralim resolved to spend his next few days questioning any religious zealots he could track down. He would need to make a proposal to King Eilar and that would preparation. For now, though, it was time to rest. Aralim locked his door, leaned blackened, spear-like staff in the corner of his bed chamber, and collapsed on the bed.