The Sightless Watcher

Night lay on the temple complex like a silk blanket. Beyond the tall walls, the desert wind whispered the secrets of the sands to the small settlement, but here silence reigned.

It crept through halls and passages and echoed around courtyards. It lurked in black corners like a predator lying in wait for its prey. It swallowed the tiniest sound alive.

Orra preferred the place at night. It was stifling during the day, both from the heat and from the press of bodies. Priests, servants and supplicants rubbed shoulders -- literally, on the days of the High Sun. Even hushed, their voices battered against the walls and ceilings until Orra sometimes felt she might suffocate.

But at night it was empty. Orra could roam the halls, losing herself inside her mind, letting her fingers trail along the cool stones. Her only companions as she made her way through the dark were the soft sounds of feet padding on the bare flags.

Many priests and acolytes served the temple of the High Sun, but when darkness fell the others all returned to their homes. The Great Temple went silent. The lesser buildings were closed, their glowstones locked away.

Only Orra stayed behind. As the sole priestess of the Sightless One, this was her home.

The Sightless One's temple was a small shrine, away from the larger structures that were devoted to the High Sun worship. During the day, unhindered by her blindness, Orra swept its floors, tended its flowers and petted the temple cats. When the occasional pilgrim arrived she conducted the rites.

At one time, the Sightless One had been a force in the Empire. Its priests and priestesses knew and kept the secrets of society, from the lowest members to the very highest. They witnessed treaties and marriages. They mediated disputes. They guarded treasures.

Those days were long past, though, and Orra and her temple were tolerated only as long as they didn't interfere with the worship of the High Sun.

This suited Orra. All she wanted, all she'd ever wanted, was a place where her blindness didn't make her an outcast, or a burden on the people around her.

But at night the entire complex was hers, and hers alone. The heavy gates were closed and barred. The guards patrolled until sunset, then they left the grounds in the care of the temple cats. They retreated into the guardhouse and the high towers that marked the corners of the sheer walls. They drank and talked like guards did everywhere, then they slept.

Sometimes they fucked, depending on who was on duty.

Orra liked those nights the best. She knew the secret passageways beneath the structures and inside the walls. She understood which corners held the deepest shadows.

She had no need to worry about the temple cats. By day, they came to sleep in the coolness of her shrine. When darkness fell, they wandered around in their nighttime forms, great tawny shapes prowling the corners and passages. When she woke in the morning, more often than not one would be curled up on her cot, once again a small, soft cat.

So Orra would lie in wait, hoping to hear the sounds of her favourites, like a cat hunting for its prey.

There was Yari, the grizzled Under-Captain, who had an appetite for young men. She'd raise her kilt and tell them to lick her, then she'd lower herself onto her knees and order them to take her from behind. Sometimes she'd suck them off. Sometimes she'd have two at once.

There was Gont, who was a huge man. In her mind, he had a large beard and hairy legs, heavy with muscle. He seduced the female guards, but they rarely came back for seconds. For all his bulk, he was a selfish and disappointing lover. Still, Orra enjoyed hearing his gravelly voice and feverish grunts as he reached climax.

Turo and Tano were brothers, and their skills were undeniable. So was their lust. They seduced and fucked everyone they could, and always together. Turo had a flask that seemed to make anyone willing to submit.

Afterwards Orra would return to her cot in the small chamber at the rear of her temple and replay what she'd heard. She used her fingers to make the visions come to life, or one of the wooden phalluses that she had in a range of sizes, and that fit a range of moods. Sometimes she used two, if she'd been listening to the brothers.

She was looking forward to tonight. She'd heard Gont's heavy boots patrolling the small stretch between the tall tower and the stand of orange trees. She hoped he was paired with someone new -- that petite girl she'd heard sign up the other week, or the Under-Captain who'd been sent here to share Yari's duties.

Avilia, that was her name. She had an accent that spoke of growing up in the Dumran Mountains -- a hard, no-nonsense people who made some of the toughest mercenaries. But sometimes Orra could hear a trace of sensuality buried deep. She hoped that Avilia would be paired with Turo and Tano one night. She'd already played out that scene for herself in her cot, riding up and down on two wooden shafts.

But for tonight she'd settle for listening to Avilia and Gont.

Standing motionless by the entrance to her small temple, she relaxed her mind and let her ears tell her everything. A temple cat sharpening its claws on an orange tree. The cry of a nightbird. The scratching of a beetle in the sand. The ghost of the evening wind.

She heard Gont making his way to the guardhouse. The tap of his spear on the flagstones. The low whistle that told Orra that he was looking forward to his night. She was too. Her fingers slipped inside her pocket and traced the outline of a wooden phallus, the one she'd named after the big man.

But then she also heard two pairs of feet walking side by side. Turo and Tano, inseparable as always, but not speaking.

Much fainter, the steps of another pair of feet. Feet that Orra didn't know. Lighter than Gont's, and lighter with the spear too. Avilia, most likely.

Feeling a knot of eagerness in her stomach Orra turned back into her temple. Her feet brought her to the sanctum. Her hands brushed aside the heavy curtain, and her fingers found the ring that lifted the trapdoor.

Silently she pulled the wooden board down over her head, and silently she descended the steps. There was no reason to be quiet, of course. Orra just preferred it that way.

Her fingers glided lightly over the wall, feeling the cold stone that was such a sharp contrast with the desert heat. Force of habit kept her mind counting the steps, the turns, the branches, until she paused by an alcove.

A short staircase brought her higher, and as she climbed she heard voices. Gont's low growl. Turo and Tano, laughing and cajoling. And another voice, a woman. "Very well then, pass the flask."

It was Avilia, Orra realised, and a thrill ran through her. She felt herself become excited just at the idea of listening to this strange woman having sex. Of course there was no guarantee she would, but Orra had spent enough nights listening to know how persuasive the men around her could be.

And how persuasive the drink in Turo's flask was.

Orra was surprised how soon he'd brought it out. Normally he'd have waited until Gont fell asleep, so that he could be certain that his victim would be his and his brother's to share.

The new Under-Captain drank -- carefully, Orra thought -- then the flask seemed to go back to Turo. "Strong stuff."

The young man gave a laugh. "You barely touched it, Captain! Come, have some more."

Gont gave a rumble of agreement. "Your first night alone in charge, boss. You deserve to celebrate."

"Very well." Avilia didn't sound reluctant, and the sounds of her drinking were drowned out by cheers from the men.

She's going to be out of control in a bit! Orra thought with growing excitement. Will she take them all on? The idea was as intoxicating as whatever was in Turo's flask.

There was a scraping sound. Avilia rising. "Here," she said, "you have some."

Gont's laugh rumbled out like a storm over the desert. "Sure, why not?"

A moment later, though, there came a loud smack. Gont gave a grunt, then something heavy fell against the stone blocks of the wall.

"Oops." It was Avilia again. She didn't sound very upset.

"Wha--?" Tano, his voice cracking in surprise.

"Our friendly giant seems to have fallen asleep." Orra could hear the grin in Avilia's tone. "That leaves just the three of us." A moment's silence, then she added, "Your flask has cracked, though. Here, see."

Turo gave a yelp, then there was a crash, followed immediately by a confusion of sounds: grunts, scuffing, curses, dull thuds, heavy breathing. Orra listened, confused, her breath caught in her throat. These weren't fucking sounds, even though it was clear that some kind of physical activity was happening.

Tano's voice gave a choked cry, then Turo's, then there was silence. Well, silence apart from Avilia's hard breathing. "Fuckers," she whispered, then her footsteps disappeared from the guardhouse.

Alarmed, perplexed, Orra remained where she was. What just happened? Was it a fight? That seemed to be the only explanation, though she couldn't figure out why.

So she turned and carefully descended the short staircase into the hidden passage. Avilia's steps had been heading into the temple complex. She had to find her. Preferably before she ran afoul of one of the temple cats. Guards were given a charm, but the great animals were unpredictable at night.

It was clear that the new Under-Captain wasn't familiar in the dark. Even if she had a glowstone, the night made the complex a strange place. Walls and shadows appeared in unfamiliar spots, passages were longer or shorter than they seemed under the day's sun. Bushes and trees reached out further than they did in the light, snagging clothes and tripping feet.

Orra had heard the same complaints dozens of times, even from guards who'd been posted here for years. It was as if the daytime temple and the nighttime temple were two different locations, warped mirrors of each other.

As it was, Orra had little difficulty following Avilia. As soon as she could, she slipped from her hidden passage into the open air. Once she guessed where they were heading, she took the shortest route ahead.

So it was that Orra was already waiting on the wall, invisible in the shadows of the tall watchtower, when Avilia's footsteps came padding up the stairs. Despite the long walk, she seemed to have recovered her breath.

On top of the wall she paused, and Orra heard her rummaging around in a satchel. She gave a low whistle over the parapet -- low and hollow, the kind of noise that would go unnoticed by anyone not listening for it.

An answering whistle came, then silence. A sound of friction, then Avilia gave another low whistle.

More silence, longer this time. Then a choked whisper from beyond the wall. "Vee."

Orra almost started in surprise. The walls were too high, too sheer to climb with anything less than a hundred feet of rope. The guards in the courtyard and watchtowers might be careless, but no-one could wander around the complex with that length of rope and not draw attention.

Avilia's footsteps darted forward. There were grunts, then the soft scraping of someone clambering over the parapet.

"Sligh." Avilia's voice was thick with something. Emotion? Relief? It was hard to tell. "You were right. Your little charm didn't get you all the way up."

The man -- Sligh? -- was breathing deeply. "Fortunately I always have you to get me up." There was a smirk in his voice. "By the Skies, it's good to see you." His accent was layered -- carefully neutral, but the tones of the University lay beneath, and even deeper Orra detected the cultured tones of the nobility. Old nobility at that.

He began to speak again, but his words broke off in a muffled "Mmmph!" There were soft grunts, close together. They're kissing, Orra realised.

After a long moment they broke off, then Avilia whispered in a throaty voice, "Put your hand here."

"Vee, we don't have time!" Sligh protested. He sounded out of breath, more than before.

"We're not going anywhere until you've put your hand down my breeches," Avilia replied. Her voice was beyond breathless. It was hungry.

Sligh shut up and Orra heard them kissing again. A few grunts, then Avilia gave a low moan. "Yes, yes. I love your hands."

Sligh spoke again. His tone affected casualness, Orra thought, but she could sense his eagerness in his whisper. "I taste hotflower. Did someone try to slip you something?"

"The guards, in the wine." Avilia sounded dismissive. "They thought they could have fun with me. Don't stop, right there... I've been around enough mercenaries to recognise the taste." She gave a low moan, which turned into another muffled kiss.

"Skies, Vee, I've missed you so much!"

The only reply was Avilia's ragged breathing, then a choking gasp. Silence, filled only by Sligh's pants, then Avilia suddenly keened and grunted. Her breath came in short, sudden gasps, muffled as if her face was pressed into Sligh's chest.

Nothing happened for a long time, then Avilia spoke again. "I needed that. Even without the hotflower. Skies, Sligh, it's been more than a moon!"

"I know!" His voice was strangled. "I'm about to burst." This brought a low chuckle from Avilia, and Sligh moaned before continuing. "We don't have time. Come on!"

Silently Orra followed them down to the courtyard. It was clear that they were here to rob the temple complex, and that they'd planned it in detail. I should warn the guards, she thought. Check on Gont and the brothers. Stop these thieves from stealing from the High Sun.

But she didn't. She was eager to follow the pair of them, listen to them talk, share their intimacy. Besides, she didn't care much about the High Sun, or about the guards, really.

But the thieves' footsteps led her away from the larger temples and storehouses, away from the wealth that pilgrims and supplicants had brought to show their devotion, and that priests hoarded to show theirs.

Instead, they turned to the narrow passage that led to her own temple. They must be lost. Turned around in the dark. What would they want there? The shrine to the Sightless One held little of value -- except perhaps her own collection of phalluses, Orra thought with a delighted shiver.

And indeed the thieves were arguing. "This feels off," Avilia hissed. "We should have turned right. The big temples are over there."

"So they are." There was a smugness in Sligh's voice that made Orra want to punch the man.

Avilia seemed to agree with her. "Now's not the time, Sligh, I'm warning you. You've got us lost again. We'll be eaten by one of those great beasts."

"Again?" Sligh sounded offended. "When have I ever got us lost?"

"Now, for a start." There was heat in Avilia's voice. It was strange, Orra thought, that Sligh seemed to be leading the way. Surely Avilia has scouted the complex and knows her way around?

"I know what I'm doing. You're distracted by shadows. Zretha's scent on me will keep the cats away."

Zretha?

But Sligh was still talking. "And we're not going to the High Sun temples."

Avilia's footsteps stopped. "What? What else is there here?"

Sligh stopped as well. "The Temple of the Sightless One."

Orra's breath caught to hear him say it out loud. Avilia seemed stunned as well. "That place? It's nothing but a derelict shrine, with a blind priestess. What's there for us to steal?"

"You'll see." The smugness was evident in Sligh's tone again.

Orra was torn. When she thought the thieves were coming to rob the other temples she hadn't cared, but now she was certain it was her own temple. What could they want? There's nothing of value!

In her mind she pictured the temple's interior. The twelve paces from the low entrance to the altar. The heavy columns that held up the roof, plain and unadorned. The two rows of benches for the few pilgrims who ever came to worship and make offerings. The tall block of smooth granite that represented the Sightless One, with its worthless golden mask.

Have they come for the mask? But the other temples hold treasures of far greater value!

Sligh was talking again, interrupting her thoughts. "So we go this way. Come on."

Orra decided to wait. Do nothing for now but follow them. If Sligh could find his way around the temple complex in the dark, even if he'd visited before, it would be a remarkable accomplishment.

Again, Avilia had the same thought. "No, I know this place. I've lived here for a moon." A dangerous note crept into her voice. "And what were you doing all that time? Seducing wealthy widows as usual, I suppose, while I've been doing the hard work. Sweltering in the desert, almost being raped by horny guards."

"There's not a temple guard in the Empire who could lay a hand on you if you didn't want it." Sligh sounded offhand.

"Maybe I did want it. Maybe I wanted a good suck and fuck. The feel of a hard, hot cock, a naked body pressed against mine..."

Their footsteps stopped at the same time. Orra froze.

The muffled sound of the thieves kissing came again, followed by heavy breathing.

"Vee...," Sligh murmured.

"Fuck," Avilia whispered back. "Let's get this over with and get out. I'll fuck you on the desert floor as soon as we're over the wall."

Sligh panted, then took a step away from Avilia. "It's this way. I've memorised the layout. Five more paces this way, then left. Twelve paces to a stand of orange trees with a stone column. Six paces beyond is the entrance."

What? Orra found herself unable to move as two pairs of footsteps padded off. Sligh had just described the path to her temple perfectly, as if it was clear daylight. Pushing aside her confusion, she forced herself to hurry after them.

Avilia was asking the questions that were plaguing Orra's mind. "How do you know? You've never been here. Have you? And even if you have, no-one would let you measure out a path."

"Remember when that sorceress spied on us?" When Avilia grunted, Sligh went on. "I decided to put the charm to better use."

They continued in silence for a moment, then Avilia spoke. "Did you...?"

The smirk in Sligh's voice was so thick it could have buttered bread. "Once or twice. When you were bathing."

There was a muffled thump and Sligh grunted.

"Fucking creep." There was a pleased note in Avilia's voice, though. "I hope you wanked off properly."

Orra desperately wanted to hear more, but she needed to get to her temple. Secure the mask, assuming that's what the thieves were after. But the quickest way was blocked by their presence.

All she could do was take a roundabout route and hope they ran into one of the temple cats -- regardless of whether that Zretha's scent protected them.

Hurrying off, feeling the moistness between her legs as she went, Orra made her way back along the wall to where she could slip inside a narrow slit and follow a secret corridor.

Trying to be more silent that ever, she cautiously went up the stone steps to the trapdoor. Even as she emerged, she knew she was too late. Voices were coming from beyond the curtain.

"This is it?" Avilia sounded disdainful. "It looks like someone took a piece of stone and tried to carve a face into it, but they'd never actually seen a human face. And then put their mother's sleeping mask on it."

"It's the Sightless One." Sligh's voice was distracted, as if he was doing something else while he talked. "Or at least a representation. It's old, a nameless thing from the dawn of time. But it had power once."

"And can we steal that power?" Avilia's voice had a sour note in it. "Because there doesn't seem to be enough gold to justify all the effort. Or are you after it for its cultural value?"

"No traps." Sligh sounded more businesslike. "And yes, to the right people it holds great value."