by Jane Baskin
“Of course.”
“Then there’s nothing more to say.” Okay; bitter. Very bitter.
Nayan, shaking his head. His friends, along with him. Che: a low whistle. Luisa-te and Zoren-te, their eyes meeting.
Nayan: “All right then, Zoren. You’d better talk before you blow up. Tell me what you need to say about this Iskaya-te.”
“She’s the daughter of the house; there’s an older brother, Innask. He’s the Lord, since his parents were killed in that hunting accident I told you about. She and Iskar are twins. She’s as mean spirited as she is beautiful. She appears soft and dainty to men, but her true self is meaner than a Cha-ning lion. She’ll manipulate, she’ll use anything, to get what she wants. Thank all the gods she’s not intelligent. She’s reknowned for her beauty, not her brains. It’s always been said she’d be bartered off in a very beneficial match someday.”
“Beneficial match? With Noar? What could giving her to a sub lord of the North possibly do for Selshay? For anyone in the South?”
“Use your head, Nayan.”
Nayan, looking perplexed. His friends, as well. Except for Luisa-te, who suddenly stared at the floor. Then looked up, locking eyes with Zoren-te.
Nayan, not missing this connection: “What are you saying, Zoren? Just come out with it.”
A sigh. “Look, Noar probably fought well for Selshay. Which would have allowed him to ask for her hand. But the real issue … when our fathers were haggling over our marriage contract – you remember. The big sticking point was that my father wanted gell seeds and your father told him ganthas would fly before that happened. I believe they ended on some kind of draw; your father said they’d wait and see. Since there might have been a real alliance between the two provinces if – if things had been different … ” Zoren-te, pausing, looking at the floor. Silence for a few moments. No one interrupting her. Just waiting.
Took a deep breath. Straightened up. “My father was willing to wait. He liked your father. He had a feeling the relationship … would grow. So he went along with the contract. But what he wanted – it’s all any southern province wants. Gell seeds.”
“But Noar hasn’t got the authority to give away gell seeds.”
Colwen: “He’d never do a thing like that. And what did you say, about fighting for Selshay?”
Zoren-te: “Noar left with Lord Iskar when he was called back to fight the peasant army. They’d never have let him come, unless he promised to fight. He’d have had to fight, to prove to them he wasn’t just a northern spy. As for the gell seeds, he may have been trying to trick them to get Iskaya-te. Good enough for the winter. But now it’s spring, and his debt has come due.”
Colwen, shaking his head. Unable to believe what he was hearing.
Nayan: “You’re saying they pressured him into an agreement?”
“Of course they did, Nayan. Don’t be naïve. Why else would Selshay give away a prize like Iskaya to a northerner? Even if he fought well, even if he were a hero of that awful war. Other southern lords would have had to agree. And I’ll bet there was only one thing that would make them say yes.”
“But … but surely he knew … he was being manipulated.”
Now a bitter laugh – very bitter – from Zoren-te. “Oh, I doubt that. Iskaya’s known for her beauty and knowing how to use it. She has the principles of a blood sucking insect.”
For some reason, all: finding this funny. Laughter all around.
Good. Let the laughter hide the dread. Let it drown out the grinding noise made by the worms in Nayan’s belly, drilling through his flesh.
Let it blot out the dark stare of Luisa-te, just gazing at the floor before the fireplace.
Let it obscure the sight of Zoren-te, staring morosely into the flames. Let it blot out her thoughts, tracing back to the South. I can never run from the South. Look, it’s followed me home. Why do I feel it’ll be the death of me? Oh Magana, I’m sorry I saw you. I’m sorry I listened to you. You told me never to listen to anyone but myself, but what do I have to say?
Nayan, called to Sauran City not two weeks later. Travel, not so hard, now. The train: back on schedule.
Two weeks spent trying to convince Zoren-te to come with him.
Nayan: You don’t like the culture of Sauran City, okay. It brings up memories for you. And you’re worried you’ll run into other southerners there. Maybe even relatives. Let’s say that’s true. So what? It can’t be any worse than staying here, under the same roof with people you despise.
At least if I’m here I can watch them. Keep an eye on things.
Che can watch them. If it’s necessary … which I still can’t believe.
Oh, Nayan.
In the end, Nayan: gone to Sauran City alone.
Zoren-te: wondering when Noar would leave. Every day he stayed on, her anxiety: growing.
Noar, wondering when the bitch would stop watching him. Every time he looked up – it seemed – she. There, watching him. Watching his wife.
His wife. The addle-brained beauty he had fought for, and won. How much more beautiful she seemed, back in Selshay! Where they were surrounded by other lords. Men, longing after her beauty. Women, jealous behind their smiles. Where she added to his allure. Like a fine coat, or a dashing suit of armor, or a fiery gantha.
Here, just a pretty bride. A surprisingly acceptable bedmate, especially after a big mug of gell tea. But not much to talk to. Here – oh – reminding him of Seren-ye. Of so many other lovers. Northern women – able to fight and love. And … talk.
Noar, wishing he were back in Selshay. Wondering at times if he hadn’t grown to hate his home. Here, nothing special about him. About anyone, really. At Selshay, in Sauran City … he was a lord, an aristocrat. Entitled to all manner of power and privilege. But here, no one really outranked anyone else. Titles: ceremonial, advisory. Nothing more. No one … really cared.
What a strange place, the far North! A little cap of three great proinces over the top of the planet. In a place where maybe humans should not be. A wild sea that nearly split the planet in half, a terrifying forest with predators that humans refused to kill. A menacing climate they had simply learned to live with. A rare crop, saving them. An entire economy, built around it, that provided for all. And … the bizarre refusal to grow any more than necessary.
How could the North not capitalize on the riches lying right under their noses?
His southern friends – now relatives – seeming right in their opinions. The North: nothing in its place. No one in his rightful place. A peculiar society. Provinces that did not wish to grow, to become as rich as their natural treasure could make them.
Still, the ghosts.
Tormenting him, despite all logic. His mother, smiling at him from his dreams. His proud father; Colwen’s mother, her ribald jokes as she heated the ale, directed the kitchen staff. His mother’s love, like a blanket. That almost blotted out his intentions … his intended treachery … until her face turned grave. Turned sorrowful. Until … there, look. The red spot, on her forehead.
Waking in a lather, one night, hearing a voice so like his own shout: “I can’t! I can’t!”
His wife, waking beside him, shaking him. “Can’t what, darling? Can’t what?”
Shaking her off, grabbing a spring cloak to cover himself, pacing the halls like a panther.
Might have stayed in this terrible stalemate for the entire summer, except for an unexpected arrival.
Unbelievable. But. Look, there. A southern emissary. Riding up to Cha-ning Castle like he owned the place. Like southern lords called on northern lords, just for a visit … all the time.
Old Scell.
Received him in his private quarters. After the astonishment of the castle residents had spent itself – as much as it could. After his retinue had been settled; the ganthas put up, the soldiers given refreshment in the great hall. After people coming in for tea stopped staring at them … as best they could.
Scell, nodding respectfully to Iskaya-te
, who seemed embarrassed at the small, homely rooms. The absence of servants to wait on him.
“Don’t concern yourself, my dear. I know where I am. I’m aware customs are – different – here in the North.”
Iskaya-te, blushing, retiring to the bedroom. Acting like she would never get over it (which she would not).
Noar, as soon as she had gone: “What are you doing here, Lord Scell? And please – speak quietly. These rooms are barely separated.”
Smile. “Of course. We wouldn’t want to trouble your lady.”
“Right.” No return smile.
Pause (long one). Then: “Listen to me, young lord. We haven’t heard from you in almost a month. Your brother has taken his position in the Provincial Assembly for over two weeks, now. You’ll forgive me if I – we – wanted to make certain you were planning to come home. As agreed.”
Of course. Noar, wanting to scream. Wanting to get his hands around the old man’s skinny throat, choke him senseless. But. “Of course I’m coming home. As agreed.”
“Relieved to hear it, my boy. So. When can we expect our seeds?”
“I’ll get them tomorrow.” His voice, flat. Noar, feeling like it was someone else’s voice. Some weird kind of echo. Like a boulder fell out of the ceiling onto his head.
“Good, then. If you’ll show me to my rooms – uh – room.” A weird smile on the old man’s face, as he looked around the anteroom. Noar, sure he was noticing how small it was. How compact the apartment. Not surprised, him, when Scell asked, “You do have quarters for guests, don’t you?”
Almost a growl. “Of course. We’re not that primitive.”
“Forgive me, young lord. I’m aware your keeps are broken up into apartments for peasants. Just making sure I could get a bed for the night.”
Zoren-te, advised quietly of Scell’s presence. Of his immediate meeting with Noar. Of the slight of his not greeting the Lady of the keep upon arrival.
Her suspicions, deepened. To Che: “Watch the old man closely. He’s not here for a social visit. But bring him to me. As if he were here for a social visit.”
Scell, bowing from the neck, honoring the lady. As if he had not already been rude. She, mouthing some insincere words of welcome she immediately forgot. To Che: Watch him. And give him the smallest, most uncomfortable guest room you can find.
Noar: woke up well before dawn the next day. Roused a complaining Iskaya-te. Took a hardy but gentle gantha from the stables, got Iskaya-te mounted on it. Took his own big beast, set out northeast.
Had told Che the night before, had told everyone coming for late tea in the great hall (except Zoren-te, still unable to talk to her): they were going overland to Rhymney. To introduce his bride to his cousins, to show Iskaya-te some of the north.
Zoren-te, when she finally found out: “Does he really think we’re that stupid? The mountains won’t be passable for weeks. And that useless wallflower, going longer than ten minutes on gantha-back? I don’t think so.”
Che and Colwen, now leading a small party tracking them.
Zoren-te: correct. Noar and Iskaya-te: having swung around; headed due north. Found two days later at the gell fields, now long gone to seed. Only waiting for the warm sunny weather, for the gatherers to bring it in.
Iskaya-te, almost invisible inside a winter cloak – despite the fact that even here, it was not that cold. Huddling on the still cold ground wrapped so tightly she looked like a fuzzy rock. Noar, gathering seeds into bags. Both quickly captured, brought back.
Line message sent by Che, at once. Too important to try long distance thought transfer. Received by Nayan: Noar raiding the gell fields, with his bride. Come home at once.
Awkward for the southern visitor, old Lord Scell. But to the further astonishment of all, he stayed on.
The astonishment of all but Zoren-te. “The old bastard’s a southerner. He doesn’t give a fart or a hurrah what we think of him, or his behavior. He won’t leave before he gets what he came for.”
Noar, told by Che and others to stay in his rooms. Elders from Rhymney and Aurast, sent for. Noar: furious.
“You have no authority to force me back here! You have no authority to confine me anywhere! Who do you think you are?”
Che: “Your brother delegated authority to me in his absence, Noar. And so has Zoren-te.”
“Zoren-te! That bitch! Who does she think she is?! She was a hostage. Just a hostage! She seduced my brother into an improper union!”
Stopped short of calling her a whore. But thought it.
Fumed in his rooms; drank two strong cups with his bride. Who murmured to him, “Oh don’t fret so about Zoren. She’s always been a silly bitch.”
“That’s the best you can do!?” Noar, roaring at her. Iskaya-te, looking startled for a moment. Then rolled away across the bed, closed her eyes, sighed.
Noar, drinking a third strong cup. Still unable to calm down. Finally bounding from the rooms. Wildcat pacing for a few moments. Then remembering the small private garden below Nayan’s rooms. A good place to cool down, especially at night. A pretty place. A private place.
Maybe … had had a little too much of the strong cup. Missed a step on the back stairs; almost fell. Swayed slightly as he went through the small library doors, entered the garden.
What? Who is that? Certain he saw a person, sitting on one of the benches.
“Hello? Who’s there?”
Zoren-te, standing up quickly. Had been watching the two moons rise together; a rare, beautiful sight. Didn’t have to look at Noar long to realize how high he was. Uh oh. Looked down at the ground. “Just a maid, sir. I’ll be going right away.”
“What?”
“Just a landscape maid, Sir. Just taking away some of the cuttings.”
But Noar liked maids.
Zoren-te: could not get past him. Noar, grabbing her by the arm, holding tight enough to hurt. Smiled, blinked.
Gods alive, he can’t see straight. Kept looking away from him.
Noar, stroking her hair with his other hand. “Um. Nice. Nice hair. My so-called sister-in-law has red hair. She’s a bitch, though.”
“Please, sir. I’ll be going.”
“No. No you won’t. I like you. Stay a while.” Tightened his grip on her hair, as well as her arm.
Okay, no choice. Zoren-te, bringing her knee up fast. Noar, jumping back instinctively, protecting his genitals. Oh. Angry, now; as well as high.
“What did you just do, maid? What did you just try to do to me?”
Hair pulls: dangerous indeed. One of the most dangerous things that can happen in a fight. More than one neck broken in a hair pull. Noar, jerking Zoren-te’s head back viciously. She, falling into the downward movement, saving her neck. But unable to get out of the grip.
Noar, falling down with her, rolling on top of her. Then … out of habit? Pulling at her clothes. Yanking at her pants. Trying to grab her hands, pin them over her head. Laughing.
Zoren-te, bringing her head up sharply into his face. Hitting his nose so hard it almost knocked her out. Blood, instantly pouring down his face.
Noar, rolling off her with a yowl. Grabbing his nose. Zoren-te: “There, you miserable thug. I did it again.” Jumping to her feet. Starting to run.
But Noar, grabbing with one hand, just in time to catch her ankle. Powerful, him. Zoren-te, tripping. Falling to the ground.
“It’s you, bitch! All gods, it’s you! No goddamned maid!”
Zoren-te, getting a leg free. Kicking him in the chest, hard enough to push him back. Again, jumping to her feet, starting to run.
Wheeling, toward the library annex door.
Noar: enraged now. And the rage: partly clearing his head. Just enough to bring him to battle stance. On his feet with lightning speed. Wheeling after her, getting in front of her with his long strides. Blocking her flight. Something like an animal snarl coming out of him.
His bulk, directly before her. And then … oh. Noar, his fist shooting out, so fast. Zoren-te, ducking i
n time. Noar, staggering forward, following his fist. Unstable because of the gell. Recovered, drew his shoulder back. Stared meanly into her eyes.
Zoren-te, just staring at him. Gods alive. His eyes – he’s crazy. So she ran, just blind instinct. Face him no face him face him don’t run
Too late. Noar, taking one stride after her, then his fist shooting out again. Bad luck: the back of her head toward him. The powerful punch: connecting directly with the base of her skull.
Zoren-te: falling to her knees. Shaking her head to clear it. A punch to the brain stem: devastating. Sometimes, a killing blow. Struggling, now. Trying with all her might to clear her head. Not fast enough. Noar, picking her up off the ground from behind, then throwing her down again, so hard the breath was knocked out of her.
Growling as he looked down at her: “I took you. Should’ve been mine.”
Zoren-te: rising unsteadily. Weaving. Her movements … slow, bleary.
Gods alive, what’s he saying?
Noar, blocking her path, again. Smiling meanly, again. Slapped her in the face this time. She: turning her head with the blow, minimizing the impact. But falling. The blow: nearly causing her to lose consciousness.
Noar, down beside her; grabbing her throat. “There, see. I did it again. Hit a woman. In your case, it was fun.”
Zoren-te: spinning herself into a circle, kicking him in the ankle; causing him to release his hold. Just able to crawl, then rise. But he: standing like a statue before her.
“You can’t get out, Zoren. I’m right here. Between you and the door. The only other exit is straight down.”
Zoren-te, still reeling from his punches. Swaying on her feet. Gods alive, he’s powerful. Understanding that he was probably right: no escape. Had the better of her already. Shook her head again, could not clear it. Stall him. Stall him!
“Noar, this is madness. It’s not even you. You … wouldn’t do this.”
“Do what, sister-in-law?” A smile like someone had sliced his face open.
“You won’t harm me.” Shook her head. Felt a spark of clarity, returning.
“What makes you so sure, sister-in-law? I have every reason in the universe to harm you. You took my brother from me. You took … ” Could not finish his sentence. Jerked his head away, just for a moment. Then back, glaring.