The Waters Rising

by Sheri S. Tepper

  “All night,” he whispered. “Not so much lately, but before there wasn’t an hour she wasn’t in my head. Whispering. I thought it was her, hating me because I had been so long away. I love her, you know. As Justinian loved his princess, I love her. I am Tingawan, too, Precious Wind. And all the time it was that . . . that foul bitch . . .”

  “The duchess hates Tingawans for some reason we know nothing about. We don’t need to understand or explain it, but we do need to repay it in kind.”

  He put the messages into his pocket, thrusting them deeply as he sighed, a longing sigh. He said, “I may as well go to the embassy. I’ll find out what’s going on. If I can, I’ll return to Merhaven. It’s still a port. When I was there, I carried a greeting to Genieve from Justinian. He had told me long ago if we ever went there to find her house and to greet her for him. Her house is across the bay, high on the hills, so she has not had to move it. She will no doubt invite you to stay with her while you are there. She invited me, but I was too occupied trying to find a way to get home.”

  “Poor Xulai,” murmured Precious Wind.

  Bear said, “She was a nice child, but I never understood what all the fuss was about her. Some baby Bright Pearl had. Babies are cute enough, like puppies. As a baby, she was a nice little thing. There at the abbey, though, she was a real . . . well, high and mighty, acting like royalty because she was a Xakixa. Just daring the world to take her for ransom. I suppose something went wrong with the payment for her.”

  “Is that what happened? She was taken for ransom? Because she carried Xu-i-lok’s soul?”

  He flushed. It was obviously what he had been told. “Why, of course. What else?”

  “No, Bear. No ransom was asked. They took Xulai to torture her and kill her.”

  His eyes went wildly off to the side. His body went rigid. “That’s . . . crazy.”

  “That’s the duchess Alicia. It’s what she does. She cares nothing for souls.”

  He turned away, saying at last in a strangled voice, “You know as well as I do the souls come home, eventually. Even if Xulai didn’t get to Tingawa, Xu-i-lok’s soul would get there.”

  “And Xulai’s?”

  “Hers, too. Eventually.”

  “So if there’s no one to carry your soul home, it doesn’t worry you.”

  “I’m a warrior, Xu-xin. Many of us don’t have Xakixas. We have a saying. It’s not how we live, it’s how we die that matters.” He laughed harshly.

  She nodded. “That must be of comfort to you.” She breathed deeply. “If I am not in Merhaven when you return, I will leave word where you may find me.”

  He did not bid her farewell. He got on his horse and rode away north, not looking back. For a moment she had a pang of guilt. She had lied only about Xulai being dead. But she had misled him and . . . and, all too tellingly, when she had done so, he had not grieved for Xulai. She had thought the old Bear would have grieved, and perhaps he would have, for the child, but not for the woman she had become. He had not known, or perhaps had chosen not to know, what her fate was to have been. She feared she had seen the last of him as he rode over a little hill and disappeared. She had hoped for some other memory of him.

  From within the edge of the forest, the wolves saw her moving once more. They got to their feet. They would have to hurry to get to their dinner before it was fully dark.

  At the palace in Ghastain, Mirami’s dinner party had been a success. Rancitor had been there, enchanted by the daughter of a new ambassador to the court. Mirami had reminded him that his freedom from restraint depended upon treating the girl courteously and making no sexual overtures. She also dosed his food with something that would keep him politely calm. King Gahls enjoyed himself. Alicia was there, of course, sweetly gracious, not trying to outshine anyone, no jewels at all, which Mirami thought a little too inconspicuous but generally sensible of her. No point in attracting attention and making other courtiers jealous of oneself. The king admired her. He told Mirami what a lovely young woman she was. Of course, her own daughter, what would he expect?

  Actually, Alicia’s campaign to fascinate the king had moved along quite nicely. He had invited her to sit at his side at dinner, Mirami on the right, Alicia on the left. He told her she might use his name, Karios, instead of “Your Majesty.” When Mirami was out of hearing, moving about among her guests, Alicia asked the king if he were not concerned about the kingdom, having only one heir. He had not thought about this. “Well,” she said soothingly, “of course, Mother is really too old now to have other children. We will all pray that Prince Rancitor stays well and healthy and lives to succeed his father only in the great fullness of time.” This left the king feeling vaguely discontented, thinking that Mirami really should have had more children for him.

  Several times in the days that followed, they had ridden out to the hunt together, the king and Alicia. Mirami did not care for riding, but Alicia rode very, very well. Her father, Duke Falyrion, had taught her. As they were returning from the hunt one day, the king was told by a messenger that the Tingawan embassy was closing its doors and departing.

  When he shouted that they could not do that, there were trade negotiations under way, he was told the emissary would call upon him the following day.

  Alicia was with the king when the emissary arrived bearing the three messages sent by Alicia to the Vulture Tower.

  “These were received by the abbot of Wilderbrook Abbey. It was thought proper that you know of them . . . if you do not already know of them.”

  The emissary put the messages in the king’s hands and bowed very slightly, the bow known in Tingawa as “the bow deprecatory,” recognizing the king’s position while expressing that the man who held it was dishonored; he turned on his heel and left, showing the king his back.

  The king didn’t recognize the subtlety of the bow but understood a turned back when he saw it. When he unrolled the messages, he shook his head in confusion and thrust them at Alicia. “Where did these come from?” he demanded. “How do I find out where these came from?”

  Alicia, taken by surprise and herself furiously angry, made herself concentrate as she stared wide-eyed at the all-too-familiar writing. “That’s mother’s writing,” she said firmly. The writing was indeed very like her mother’s writing. Mirami had taught her to write, after all.

  “What should I do?” gasped the king. “If this is known . . . There are people here from Wellsport who have invested heavily in the sea trade. We have been negotiating to resume that trade. The Tingawans can obtain the permission of the Sea King; we can’t. If the Tingawans refuse to deal with us . . .”

  “I have no idea why she would have done this,” said Alicia. “It is ridiculous. But you must tell the embassy you have affirmed that Mirami did kill the princess Xu-i-lok, and you must tell them that you will take care of the matter yourself.”

  “But she could not . . .”

  “I know, I know, dear Karios, but you must save yourself! You’ll have to tell them she did it, then seem to get rid of her so the emissary may convey to the family Do-Lok that suitable vengeance has been taken. They must think that she is dead.”

  “What may I do? Shall I have her killed? The scandal would . . . my heir!”

  She fastened on that idea. “A scandal might affect Rancitor’s position as your heir,” she agreed. “We must avoid that. Tell the Tingawan people that. Tell them you must manage it without throwing doubt on Rancitor’s inheritance. Tell them you will lock her up while deciding what must be done. As for her, tell her to be calm, that we’re working it all out. I need to consult with people I know, to decide what is best. And forgive me, dearest Karios, if I leave you for a few days. I must be gone before you lock her away, understand? I must not be here while she is still here . . . you do understand? It cannot be said that I attempted to influence you. We must think of my dear brother, your son, your heir! We must think of Rancitor!”

  He thought he understood. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he did. Alicia
would protect Rancitor. Alicia would somehow deal with Mirami. He had depended on Mirami to deal with things for such a long time. Would her daughter take Mirami’s place? Oh, that would be very good. He would like that.

  The little capsule Alicia had prepared for Mirami was in Alicia’s suite, in her jewelry box, down at the bottom wrapped in a silk handkerchief. She had her servants ready her horse and arrange her escort. Just before leaving, she went to bid her mother a fond, temporary farewell.

  “There’s been some news of Justinian. I’m going home by the quickest route. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Outside her mother’s door, she dropped the capsule out of the fluttering, distracting handkerchief and stepped on it firmly without anyone seeing it. She almost regretted doing it! Now all of the little clouds she had made were gone. Well, someone else would no doubt need putting away. She wondered who it would be as she ran down the marble stairs to mount her horse and ride away.

  Bear had stayed in Ghastain after delivering the messages to the embassy, spending most of his time watching the castle. He had wagered with himself whether the king would have Alicia killed publicly or privately, and he was astonished to see her riding out with a group of archers. He followed them to the southern cut in the highland cliffs, where the road went down into the valley toward Benjobz. She had either escaped or blamed it on someone else, he thought, shaking his head in something almost like admiration before following at a discreet distance. He never went anywhere without saddlebags packed; he was quite ready to take to the road. The emissary had mentioned receiving messages from the abbot that referred to the Old Dark House, to the Vulture Tower, to the plot against Xulai. The messages Bear had brought piled proof upon the abbot’s allegations. Bear had been pleasantly surprised when he learned that his own name had not been mentioned except as a victim! He was not implicated by anything written from the Old Dark House, the tower, or the abbey. He was free to act. He saw it all very clearly. His duty was plain. The Old Dark House was where the evil had begun and thrived. He would follow the duchess to her lair and put an end to it. Then he would meet Precious Wind in Merhaven. They could all go home.

  Bram and Chippy, Blue and Fisher, plus the previously unnamed horse and mule now known as Greedy and Ears, reached the border of Elsmere and took one more day to arrive at the new Merhaven, pausing above it at the top of a last gentle rise before the long descent into the sea. Below them, a new town spread across the flanks of the mountains and along the shores of an expansive bay, a bay vastly wider than the ones shown on their maps and extending southward to a dim shoreline above which a separate town was perched.

  “Merhaven and South Merhaven,” murmured the horse.

  The map had shown Merhaven as a single town that had made an arc along the gentle slope of the bay’s north side, nearest them, and extended along the narrow shelf edging the eastern, inner curve.

  Abasio pointed toward this inner curve. “That side was steeper. There was just a narrow shelf beneath that wing of the town; water covered it. They couldn’t move up, so they moved to the far side of the bay.”

  “They’ve cut a road to join the two,” Xulai said, following his gaze toward the curved gash that had been chopped into the steep eastern slope and around it onto the southern shore. Though the evening light was fading, the new road showed as a lighter ribbon against the green of the hill.

  Below them, wooden piers protruded into the water among a clutter of the small fishing boats that had plied the bay and the nearby shorelines of the ocean for generations. One large, seagoing ship was moored at the end of the longest pier. Though it bore the pennant of Tingawa, no one moved upon it or near it. The other little ships had men around them; nets were being strung up to dry among the spars and masts; people were moving about along the piers, along the shore, up and down the unpaved streets of the new town. Evidently there had been time to salvage building materials from the drowned town, for many of the newly built structures were of brick or stone. Abasio guessed they had been taken apart piece by piece and reassembled. That the reassembly was temporary was evidenced by the fact that none of the houses had gardens, none had landscaped surroundings. They had simply been plopped down on hastily leveled plots of ground, roadways scraped out leading to them, and only time would tell whether they would stay settled in place or be pulled into pieces to be reassembled again, somewhere higher.

  “Genieve,” said Xulai. “Falyrion’s sister. That’s where we ought to go.”

  “What’s the name of her house?”

  “The Watch House. It’s supposed to have a watchtower.”

  Abasio pointed across the bay. “Over there, the white one. It’s the only one with a tower. And it hasn’t been moved; it’s been there all along. Look at the trees around it.”

  It stood straight across from them, alone, a white house behind a buttressed wall, the whole a massive white fist, one tower sticking up like a finger raised to test the wind.

  “There’s supposed to be a Tingawan something here,” Xulai said. “Precious Wind told me. It’s an office of some kind; not an embassy, that’s in Ghastain near the court of King Gahls. Before the Sea King declared war, a lot of ships came here from Tingawa.”

  “A commercial office,” he said. “Do you want to try for the Watch House tonight? It’s getting on for dark.”

  “There’s only one road around the bay,” she replied. “We’re not likely to get lost.”

  “If they have a stable and hay, I vote we go there,” said Blue.

  “I could go take a look,” Fisher offered.

  “Good idea,” said Abasio.

  Wings took off in a flurry; a dark arrow sped across the sky, over the waters, losing itself in the distance. Abasio got out his glasses and focused on the distant tower. “Where would he go?”

  “To the stables,” she replied. “That’s what Blue is concerned about.”

  “Justifiably,” snorted the horse.

  “They must be behind the house,” Abasio said. “I can’t see where he went.”

  They moved slowly down the hill through an evening hush. Below them, people were going home. Chimneys were beginning to smoke. Near the curved sliver of moon, one star gleamed brilliantly against the blue. A flurry of wings came again.

  A hawk settled on Xulai’s shoulder to defeather and refur itself. Fisher said, “Stables, hay, oats, only one horse there, room for half a dozen. Somebody’s in the house, there’s smoke from the chimney.”

  “Let’s ride for it,” said Abasio.

  They trotted down the hill, angling to their left to arrive at the road around the bay without going through any part of the town. Once on the narrow though well-graded road, Blue broke into a canter, Greedy reluctantly following, grunting with each footfall. Ears was made of more resilient stuff, following silently without making a fuss about it. He was lightly laden. They had eaten almost all their food, and the mule carried only their blankets and tent together with a few odds and ends. It was full dark when they reached the far side of the bay and started up the hillside. The moon sliver and the star shine reflected just enough light from the hard-packed surface of the road to keep them on track. Though the gate was shut when they arrived at the white wall, a lantern lit the bell rope beside it.

  Xulai assayed a couple of well-spaced clongs. After a time, the door of the house opened, and a man came out. He had bowed legs, a scruffy beard, a napkin tucked into his collar, and an expression of honest annoyance.

  Xulai headed off the annoyance in a clear, carrying voice. “Is this the home of Genieve, daughter of Falyrion, Duke of Kamfels?” The man gaped without saying anything. “If so, tell her, please, that a messenger from Justinian, Duke of Wold, is at her gate and begs her hospitality.”

  “Let them in, Dobbich,” a deeper voice cried from the open door. “Let them in at once.”

  The man shut his mouth and opened the gate wordlessly, letting his jaw sag again as they entered. The woman in the doorway came toward them, looking
up at them with amazement. She saw a bearded man, a boy with some kind of animal on his shoulder. Neither of them was Justinian. A messenger, someone had said?

  Xulai slid down from Greedy’s back. “You are Genieve? Justinian’s childhood friend? I am Xulai, his . . . messenger. We are . . . traveling alone to avoid being taken by . . . By what, Abasio?”

  “By very nasty people,” he said, dismounting. “Madam, we thank you for any kindness you can offer. It has been a long, weary way here.”

  “Justinian?” she begged. “Is he . . . Is he well? And his . . . his wife?”

  After a moment’s pause and a deeply heaved sigh, Xulai said, “Princess Xu-i-lok is dead. The duke has gone into hiding from the same people who killed her and who have driven us this long way. We have no reason to think he is not safe and well. It was he who sent us here and told us to find you in the Watch House.”

  She beckoned them in. “Dobbich, go find Mrs. Bang and tell her we have guests who are hungry and not fussy about food.” She smiled at them, obviously trying to be welcoming while deeply worried. “At this time of night, given your obvious weariness, I presume that’s true.”

  “Very true, ma’am,” said Abasio.

  “Of course, the livestock are more particular,” said Blue.

  The woman turned in astonishment. “Did I just hear . . .”

  Abasio glared at Blue. “Yes, ma’am, it’s a very long story. Blue can take himself and his friends to the stables, but they’ll need some help shedding those saddles and packs. If you’ll take my young friend in, I’ll see to the animals and join you shortly.”

  “There’s hay there,” she said, “though we’re a little low on oats. We rely on my late husband’s farms to keep us in provisions, and we have not sent a wagon for some weeks.”

  “Farms?” asked Xulai.

  “Over the ridge, back there in the hills a bit. He owned several farms, yes. Those of us who have hill farms are managing quite well. They’re located in high valleys, and they’ve always fed Merhaven whatever it couldn’t take from the sea itself. We have grain and hay and vegetables, mostly root crops now. We have milk and cheese. Of course, the fishermen bring in full nets. Fish of both shell and fin are plentiful and getting more so.” She pushed the heavy door open and led Xulai inside. The floors were tiled with red clay; the walls were as white inside as out; the rooms were warm. Xulai laid her hand on the floor. That was where the heat was coming from.