Pree K scrambled to his feet and started to back off, holding a hand to his face.
“I ain’t gonna hurt ya, boy. I just, well, apparently I got the last plate a hot fiilas ol’ Limma Edna had reserved for payin’ customers. You know, them seed-grown kind.” He looked closer at Pree K. “I ain’t got nothin’ against you personally, ya see. I mean, we only just met. What’s yer name?”
Throughout Pree K’s life Lant had spoken in more than a few languages with him, but what this man was speaking resembled nothing like the Fultershier or Quienan.
Muttering a quick, “It’s no problem,” in Quienan, Pree K continued to back away.
“No, ya took a punch for me. That’s not something I can overlook. So,” he said, licking his fingers, “what can I do for you? Give ya a ride somewhere, maybe?”
“What?”
“Really, lemme do something for you. There must be something ‘specially as ya don’t look like yer from around here.”
This time Pree K understood. The man was speaking Quienan, just rather horribly. “I’m not. I’m trying to get to SiQQiy’s palace. I’m a messenger. I’ve got a message for her.”
The man’s face fairly lit with joy. “Well, my boy, never underestimate the potential of a bad day! You’ve come to the right man. I was jus’ head’n there myself.”
Pree K couldn’t think of hearing worse news. “No, no it’s good, I know the way.” He pulled his hand away from his face, checking for blood.
“Don’t sound so disappointed. Follow me — quick. Though it takes Highnock the better part of ‘n afternoon to come out from behind the counter, he still has a neck big around as my thigh. Best we go.”
Though it was probably a bad idea, Pree K followed reluctantly. Rounding the back of the building, Pree K looked up as a large bay mare jerked her head out of a bag of feed. As two people who are close tend to grow to look like one another so, it seemed, had the big bay mare and the man.
“What’re you doin’, May?” the man said, swiping the bag away from the horse’s nose and giving the girth strap a good yank. “Look now, I can hardly get it wrapped ‘round yer fat belly.” He tugged on it a few more times. “ ‘s all right, you’ll run it off now on the way back.” He climbed into the saddle and for the second time lent the dirty hand to Pree K. “Get on up, we can be there ‘fore ya know it.”
This time, Pree K took the hand and swung up.
Just then, the back door to the restaurant opened and a man as big as a house squeezed through it. “Hilloy!” he bellowed. “I’ll break you in half!”
Hilloy jumped as if he were about to run. The reaction managed to snap his heels into the mare’s bulging sides and she bolted.
Pree K looked back to see the big man take all the run he could after them, about four steps, before coming to a lumbering halt. Chest heaving, the giant gave up and chucked something instead — looked to be a rolling pin of some sort — in their direction.
The mare, however, was all but gone and the last glimpse Pree K got of Highnock was of him shouting indistinguishably as he stood in the middle of the back alley, meaty fists clenched at his sides, looking like a badly placed monument waiting for demolition.
Having made their escape, Hilloy reined the mare down a thin alley that opened to a thoroughfare crammed with horses and carts.
The jolt of the stocky mare’s hooves upon the cobbled street felt sure to rattle Pree K’s brains right out with the blood still running from his nose. Thankfully, the thoroughfare soon emptied into a well-worn dirt trail. In the distance stood a small city.
SiQQiy’s Palaces, Pree K thought with relief as the man urged the mare into a lope that proved far smoother than trotting across cobblestones.
“By the way, ya can call me Hilloy!” he shouted over his shoulder. “You?!”
“Pree K!”
“What’s the K for?!” Hilloy continued to shout over the wind whistling in their ears.
“Nothing, its just K!”
“Just K?! What’s that for?!”
“Kill me,” Pree K muttered, sniffing and swallowing a mouthful of blood and wishing, desperately, that he had a pair of stirrups under his feet so that he could take the weight off his butt and cushion the pounding he was receiving from the trotting mare.
“What?!”
“Nothing!” Pree K shouted back. “The K doesn’t stand for anything!”
“So yer name’s Preak?!” Hilloy called back. “Ya don’t look much like one!”
“No,” Pree K said with a groan, hoping Hilloy would let it drop.
And then, thankfully, the mare changed her gate once more, moving out into a smooth gallop and as the palaces in the distance grew larger and larger before them, Pree K found his attention turning from the discomfort he was in to the beauty of the sight slowly rolling toward them. As the dirt path turned into a paving of large flat stones, Hilloy reined May into a walk. Pree K slowly released his death grip on the saddle and let himself take in the wonder. The rounded domes and towered gates of the small palatial city sat upon a sizable hill — as hills go — and in the flashing sun Pree K’s eyes caught the many brilliant lines and circles of gold that graced the contours and coves of the domes and rounded towers.
Hilloy walked May through a large set of open gates, passing what appeared to be visitor grounds and parks. At the far end sat a section of high wall set with guards. One called out as they approached, “Rider coming!” But then, upon closer inspection, added, “Ah, Hilloy. Welcome back.”
Pree K was surprised at the disregard in the guard’s tone as Hilloy muttered, “They love me here,” over his shoulder.
The bay mare strode through the gates and into an inner courtyard, worrying at her bit and blinking her large eyes at a patch of grass beneath a gorgeous flowering tree nearby.
Pree K found himself blinking as well — with disbelief. The courtyard was a fountain of tropical plants, trees, and flowers. Pree K nearly slid off the mare’s rear end trying to take it all in. He was still gaping about when Hilloy reined May to a stop before another set of white-gold gates.
“This is where ya get off, Preak. Go on in. SiQQiy should be inside, or there’ll be a guard who can take ya to her.”
Pree K tore his eyes from the gates long enough to give Hilloy his thanks and slide down May’s broad hindquarters.
“No problem, kid. C’mon old girl, take us home.”
Pree K watched him go, wondering if Hilloy wasn’t at least a bit insulted by the afternoon’s events and feeling sorry for the old man. As May trotted out of sight, Pree K turned and continued across a short courtyard laid with smooth, flat stone of a silky grey. Delicately leafed trees sided the courtyard up to a set of six steps that terminated at two more large gates, this time of a brilliant gold.
“What’s your business?”
Pree K stepped up to the tall guard standing before the gates. Thankfully, the guard spoke clearly and was much easier to understand than Hilloy.
“I am from Rieeve,” Pree K answered. “I bear a message from Commander Lant, traveling companion to Master Monteray of Legran and leader of the Rieevan Cant, for the Empress.”
The guard eyed him quizzically. “I will need to check your person before entering the palace.”
Saying that he carried with him a short sword, Pree K removed the sword and handed it to the guard. The guard took it, looking it over with interest — as a man trained for combat might.
“Why do you carry this?”
“My way was long, and I am new here,” Pree K replied.
“You said you are from Rieeve,” the guard said, turning the sword around in his hand. “The workmanship of this blade is curious. A little Jayakan or possibly Criyean.” He eyed Pree K a moment, then motioned for him to follow.
Pree K moved slowly behind the guard, his eyes turning upward as he found himself at the entrance to a long hall. Here he paused long enough to turn a full circle, gazing at the walls and ceiling. Carved out of smooth white stone and
set in blocks of ebony, the likeness of birds sat in relief upon the great arches of the hall. The ceiling of the hall was the palest green in colour and running down the length of it was a great gilded vine laden with soft pink berries, also in relief. They emerged from the hall and continued through another room where Pree K stumbled, bumping into the guard. The guard pretended not to notice, continuing up a steep incline of steps over which Pree K had tripped. Glancing down, Pree K took in the polished marble of the steps and took a moment to run his fingers over the cold, multi-coloured surface. At the crest of the steps sat a chair of such immensity that Pree K almost tripped again.
That thing could fit three people my size easy, he thought, rubbing a knee as the guard opened and went through a door to the immediate right of the chair.
Pree K stepped in behind the guard and saw a woman standing near a painting on the far end. Set into the bowled center of a thin-legged table on her right was an exquisite little plant with the brightest green leaves Pree K had ever seen, and on the large table before her was spread parchment, paper, and a collection of finely bound books.
SiQQiy.
She was breathtaking. Her skin was a flawless canvas, much like Nien’s though more silvery-blue, her hair had the shine of fine Jhedan’ret, and her dark eyes were like polished black stone.
“A messenger, my Lady. He says he is from Rieeve, sent by a Commander Lant, traveling companion to Master Monteray of Legran.”
SiQQiy looked up from her work at the guard, then shifted her eyes to Pree K.
Pree K couldn’t believe he’d been brought right to the Empress. He’d expected a long wait — possibly days. Obviously Lant and Master Monteray’s names meant a great deal more than he had supposed.
“You are from Rieeve?” she asked. The incredulity in her tone was unmistakable. “You came here from there?”
“Yes.”
“What is your name?”
“Pree K,” he said after a moment, as if he had to think about it.
She smiled at him. Her eyes, like glass, seemed to reflect all the light in the room. Indeed, the look on her face was as if a curtain had been parted to let down a cool rain.
“You are the son of Lant Ce’Mandu?”
Pree K felt like he’d been struck again, but this time by a kinder fist than Limma Edna’s. “Yes,” he stammered.
The Empress stepped around her table, walked up to him and, standing uncomfortably close, placed both her hands upon his face.
Pree K’s throat closed. He felt as if he’d shrunk to half his size. Though he couldn’t help but avert his eyes, Pree K noticed a flash of surprise from the guard who had brought him in at the Empress’ show of intimacy.
“I knew your father,” she said, the deep liquid black of her eyes pulling his gaze back up to hers. “For a time, he was like a father to me, too. My home is honoured to have you here.”
She released his face. The heat rose in his cheeks where her slender hands had been. She turned to the two young women standing beside the tall, thin table with the small green plant. “Please prepare the private dining room. Also, warm water and cloth.” She looked back at Pree K. “It looks like you had an eventful time getting here.”
“I did, a bit.” Pree K glanced down at his shirt. It was stained with blood. “I must look a disaster,” he added quickly, apologizing.
“That hardly matters,” SiQQiy said. “Though I’m sorry for the welcome. Come, lets clean you up and while we eat you can tell me of your father and the message he sent you here to give me.”
As he followed her out, through other doors and winding halls, Pree K felt as if he’d stepped into another story of his life, one that once was or might have been, and though he had no idea how that was so, he suspected the Empress, gliding like a spirit, knew more about that world and that part of him than he did.
Upon entering the dining room, servants were already scurrying about, guards taking up their places at doors, as SiQQiy’s two young female attendants flitted about, one bringing a large bowl of water, the other a bundle of neatly folded cloth. Filled with as much awe as hunger, Pree K tried not to squirm as SiQQiy took up one of the white cloths and cleaned the blood from his face with her own hand.
“Does your coming here mean Rieeve has opened its doors?” she asked.
Pree K almost laughed, but caught himself. “No, Empress. The Rieevan Council doesn’t even know that I left. This is all Commander Lant’s doing. He sent me here as a member of the Cant. He also sent a messenger to Legran and to Jayak.”
“Ah,” SiQQiy said, wringing out the white cloth into the bowl. Pree K glanced over and saw his blood spidering out through the clear water. “You are brave.” She looked him over. “You have much of your father in you.”
Pree K almost felt to remind her that he was adopted, but did not want to come anywhere near an offense, so let it go.
“How long can you stay?” she asked.
Pree K didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t thought about it. “Short enough to not worry the Commander?”
SiQQiy seemed pleased by his answer. “Well,” she said, “let’s not waste a moment. First, however, we eat.”
Chapter 41
That Empty Feeling
“C ommander, the Cant should be given a break — more than a day,” Nien said. He was about to give the Cant its schedule for the following turn and had come to the Cant hut to check in with Lant before he did. “I think Ime festival may be what they need.”
The last festival, Kojko, had fallen immediately on the heels of the Cant Leadership’s return from the battle in Jayak and the loss of Son Velaan-Bredo. Since then, it had not been clear whether the Cant would be taking their usual Ime break, or even attending the Ime celebration.
Nien was quiet, waiting for Lant to consider. At last, he said, “I agree with you. Let’s give them the time off for the festival.”
Relieved, Nien saluted Lant and began to leave when Lant stopped him. “Nien,” he said, “have them go armed.”
Nien couldn’t help it, his eyes shot to Lant with a surge of surprise and aversion. Training through what would normally have been the Ime break had been hard on all of them. Everyone was weary and irritable. Nien, himself, was weary.
But it was more than that.
None of the Cant members had ever taken their weapons to a festival. To the eyes of the older villagers the sight of a weapon was still an anathema. If the Cant members were meant to participate normally in a normal Rieevan activity, they should leave their weapons at home.
All this fell through Nien’s mind in an instant and he dismissed it just as quickly. Though it made him sick to think about it he trusted Lant.
Respectfully, Nien nodded and left.
His trudge through the snowy field from the Cant hut to the waiting Cant members felt longer than usual. Taking the Mound where the snowy, wet fields met the mountains, Nien called out: “Cant members!”
One by one they turned to face him.
Nien could see — had been able to see for a while now — the fatigue in their eyes and bodies.
This was not going to be pleasant.
“I know there have been rumours that we may train through the festival, but Commander Lant and I decided today that we will not. Take the festival off and go with your families. Enjoy the time. Rest. Relax. We will meet again after the third day.”
The Cant began talking amongst themselves.
That was the easy part, Nien thought. Now for the hard part...
“We ask, however, that you take your weapons with you.”
Happy exchanges over the news of taking the festival off stilled momentarily. Nien waited.
And then, from the back, a low buzz of disbelief and anger began to rise. It surged to the front, carrying with it a single shout that rose above the rest: “Enough!”
It took Nien a moment to locate the voice.
“You said you’d changed your minds!” the Cant member called out. “You just said we were goin
g to take the festival off!”
Nien recognized Greal’e. An original member of the Cant along with Nien and a few other of the Leaders, Nien was not surprised that he was the one to speak out. Other men began pushing in around him, urging him on.
“I understand your feelings,” Nien said, directing his words into the gathering group. “But we feel it best to be prepared.”
“Lant’s mad,” another Cant member called out. “Making us run all these drills, over and over, all day every day. Forced marches. One day off a turn. And now, taking weapons to the festival? No one will be able to relax during the festival that way — not us, certainly not the people.”
Nien steeled himself and went down off the Mound, moving deliberately toward the group of men surrounding Greal’e. He saw Carly move in beside him, joined shortly by Mien’k and Shiela.
Nien penetrated the outer ring of Cant members to its center where Greal’e stood. “I understand how you feel, but never berate the Commander while I am in earshot.”
Greal’e’s resolve faltered briefly. However, the crowd at his back imbued him. “We’ve been keeping silent all these turns, but we have families, Nien, and other concerns, businesses that also need our attention. We need to see our families peacefully with no weapons, no reminders of” — he swept his hand across the snowy and muddy Cantfield — “all this.”
Nien missed his own family. He had not seen them for more than a quick dinner or breakfast for nearly a season. Wing had completed the late planting on his own. Joash had finished up the construction projects in the Village also on his own, and Jake and Reean were already preparing what they would need to begin the Ime season repair and making of clothing and food preserving.
Nien’s silence in the face of Greal’e’s words encouraged another member to step forward.
“What about you, First? Will you be going to the festival? The Council banned you from the last one.”
“I’ll be going,” Nien said.
“And the Council?”
“Lant’s working on that. Either way, I’ll be there.” “Lant,” Greal’e snarled. “Maybe the Council was right all along. Maybe a military force has made us all crazy. Maybe Lant does want to run the whole show: Leader of the Cant and head of the Council. And all this talk about the Ka’ull and the threat they present is merely a ruse, something to push the Council, the people, and us into the fulfillment of one man’s personal agenda.”
Wing & Nien Page 33