by S. D. Tower
“When you go to Gultekin, I’m coming, too.”
He grinned. The sequina’s oars swept the canal like flails, hissing. “Could I stop you?”
“No, not unless you lock me up.”
“I’d never do that. I’ll be happy to have you with me, but we’ll have little time together while we’re there, and when I tell you that you must leave, you must do so. Is it a bargain?” “Bargain,” I said, and we clasped hands on it. In that moment, inexplicably, I was happy. But then I remembered that I had to tell Nilang what Terem was going to do, or risk terrible consequences. My happiness fled, and I was my gloom-laden self again.
That evening, while I was rummaging through my old traveling chest for clothes for the journey, I came across a packet of papers. They were the love poems poor Adrine had written before she died; I hadn’t looked at them for a long time. I leafed through them and one caught my eye.
Dreaming in the cherry orchard, hear my song:
A night without him Is ten nights long,
I read it several times, realizing that I understood Adrine at last. Now I knew why she had done what she had, at the cost of everything. Now I knew what she had felt for Lahad, because I felt it for Terem. It was a spirit as dangerous as Nilang’s daughters, and perhaps more powerful.
It was love, and just as Adrine had been doomed to it, so was I.
Twenty-six
Thus for the second time in a year I came to Gultekin, this time with the Sun Lord and his army, now called the Army of Durdane. Messages carried by the gallopers of the river fleet reported Ardavan’s main force as two days’ march away, moving relentlessly toward us. He’d captured a lot of shipping and had used it to speed his infantry down the Jacinth alongside his racing cavalry; our river rams sank some of these troop transports but not nearly enough. And while the winter weather and straggling had taken a toll of his numbers, he’d had even more men when he started out than we’d believed—^the reports stubbornly kept saying that eighty thousand marched on us. And it appeared, from the presence of the royal standards of Suarai, Mirsing, and Ish-ban, that the three remaining Exile Kings were with him.
And we Durdana? Terem had pulled together a respectable army, almost as many men as Ardavan supposedly commanded. There were additional brigades in garrison in the northwest, but while they were marching our way, they could not hope to reach Gultekin before Ardavan. Forty thousand more men were in the east, but Ardavan had left enough forces in his wake to keep them from coming quickly to our aid. They’d have to fight their way west, and would never get to us in time to help.
There was one good thing about the decline of our cities over the years: Gultekin had plenty of abandoned buildings to shelter our men from the winter’s rigors. The city was also a district govemment seat and was therefore walled, but these fortifications were of no great strength; if Ardavan defeated us, the city was doomed. Many citizens had fled, and the price of a downriver boat passage had increased tenfold. The district magistrate, however, showed no alarm, and most of his submagistrates and other officials remained at their posts.
The govemment buildings, while old, were well kept up. They were in a gated compound by the river wall; Terem moved me, himself, and his staff into the villa that was designated for official visitors. The rooms were spacious and the windows all had glass in them, a good thing given the cold winds blowing from the west. In the south wall of our bedchamber was a door that opened onto a small wrought-iron balcony, with a view over the compound wall and the city roofs.
We were blessedly free of the protocol that govemed Terem’s days at Jade Lagoon; there was no time for it. But there was little time for us, either, for Terem was carrying the whole army on his back. Fortunately our troops were in good spirits, bolstered by the knowledge that at Bara we’d given as good as we got, and they were prepared to repeat the success.
But a draw wouldn’t be enough; we had to defeat Ardavan decisively and send him staggering back across the Savath. Terem was certain we’d do it, certain with that conviction that was so much of his strength. I was less sanguine, but of one thing I was sure—^no other man could lead us to the victory we so desperately needed.
Nevertheless, the atmosphere in the govemment compound was tense, and in spite of Terem’s relentless optimism I found the place oppressive. Worse, I could not, for the life of me, think of a way to remain loyal to Mother and at the same time serve Terem and his cause. It was, of course, impossible to do both, but I could not bring myself to believe that. I consequently spent many hours in feverish speculation about what course I should take, but every solution I devised had at least one fatal flaw. The best I could think of was to play to each side as long as I could, and hope that some miracle might save us all.
Nilang had instructed me to contact Dilara in the Miscellaneous Market. So, late in the aftemoon of the day after we arrived, I slipped through the gates of the compound and set off into the city. Because so many people had fled, the streets were almost empty of civilians; nor were many soldiers about, since Terem kept them busy digging field fortifications outside the walls or carrying out combat exercises. The weather added to the sense of desolation: the sky was gray, with low-hung clouds creeping out of the west and a dank gusty wind that threatened freezing rain.
The way to the market took me through Gold Sand Circle, where Merihan’s mother and father lived. I passed by on the far side of the plaza but noticed a wisp of smoke from the mansion’s gable vent, as if someone in the kitchen were preparing an evening meal. The Aviya family was among the more stouthearted of Gultekin’s citizens, if they had remained so long.
I located the Miscellaneous Market in a small plaza near the city’s river walls. It was probably a busy place in normal times, but not now. Three shops in four, and all the booths, were shut and deserted. I asked at one of the shops for As-miri the public scribe, and was directed to a commercial tenement, one of those rattletrap places where the landlord rents out open-fronted shops with a tiny room or two above each, for the shopkeeper to live in.
Dilara, or Asmiri as she now was, had the third one along. But its stout wooden shutters were closed tight. I banged on them, worrying. Had she been called away unexpectedly by some order from Mother?
Suddenly the shutters rattled and a bolt scraped. Dilara put her head out and said, ‘Ah, you found me.”
“I’m a trained finder of things.”
She snickered. “Aren’t we both? Have you eaten? There’s a chophouse around the comer that’s still open. I can get some food and bring it up in my rooms. That’ll be safe enough.”
I looked at the sky. The winter days were short, and dusk would soon be at hand. But Terem would be with his officers for hours yet in the compound’s commandery building. And Dilara and I hadn’t talked in such a long time. “That’s a good idea,” I said.
“I’ll need my dishes. Come up.”
I slipped through the shutters and peered around in the gloom. I was in a tiny scribal shop, with pens, sealing wax, paper, ink stones, all the gear of the scribe’s trade. At the rear was a narrow wooden stair, which we climbed.
What I found at the top saddened me. It was a dark little place of two rooms, not even as good as Tsusane’s had been, and Dilara’s usual indifference to her surroundings didn’t help. In one cubicle was a narrow bed, the floor beside it sparsely strewn with her few clothes. In the other was a table and two stools, a smoldering brazier, and a cupboard. The narrow window was sealed with thick paper and admitted a gray, watery light. It was all so poor and mean that I got a lump in my throat and swore to myself that someday I’d make sure that Dilara lived as well as I did.
She asked me to feed the brazier and went away with the dishes. I’d just got the room warmed a little when she retumed with vegetables, fish pastries, and a jug of Danshur peach wine. We lit her two little lamps, then sat at the table and ate.
We talked about Repose and my life in Kuijain, but as our meal progressed, I realized that Dilara, beneath her usual
veneer of cool detachment, was very excited. She drank more wine than I did, and I wondered, a little uneasily, if she’d become fonder of it than was wise. She’d always been abstemious in the old days, but now I remembered the wine on her breath the night before we invaded Lindu and how she’d had a flask with her even during the retreat.
At length my curiosity made me ask, “Dilara, what’s going on? It’s something important, isn’t it?”
Her eyes glearned in the lampUght. “I was saving it to tell you later. But now’s as good a time . . . Lale, our victory’s near. In a couple of days it’ll be over, and we’ll have won.” “What? How? Are you supposed to be telUng me this?” “Yes, I am. Nilang told me to. She’s somewhere here in Gultekin. That’s how important this is, that Mother’s sent her. And you’re part of it.”
“I’m part of what, Dilara? For pity’s sake, tell me!” “There’s going to be a battle, obviously. But the night before it happens, the usurper dies. Remember once I said that somebody should kill him? Well, now’s the time, and I’m to do it.”
She must have taken the shock on my face for delight, because she laughed and said, “You mean you didn’t see this coming? Why ever not? When could be a better time?” When, indeed? I should have seen it. But I’d shut the thought of Terem’s death from my awareness, telling myself always that it was a long way off.
Now it was here. I had to stop it. If I could just persuade Dilara that I should be the assassin—
“Why has she ordered you to kill him and not me?” I asked. “I can get to him much more easily.”
“Because Mother doesn’t want any risk to you. You’re too valuable—^you know a lot of important people, and she knows you’U continue to be useful even after we’ve won. You’re to go back to Kuijain when he’s dead and wait for orders.” “What if you can’t get to him?”
“I was coming to that. If I miss. Mother says you’ll have to take over for me. I have the double poison for you, the same as Adrine took. If he’s still alive at dawn on the day of battle, get them into him as quickly as you can, both doses together so it’s fast. He can’t be left alive long enough to reach the battlefield.”
“But,” I objected, “with both doses together, it’ll be obvious he died of poison. They’ll look everywhere for suspects, and I’ll be one of them. What does Mother want me to do in that case?”
“Get out as soon as you can, once he’s swallowed the stuff. You remember, there’s a little delay before it acts. Head for Dirun and take a ship to Tamurin. You should be able to get clear. His officers will be too busy losing the battle to chase you, and the Exiles won’t march west till they’ve occupied Gultekin.”
“You’re taking your life in your hands, Dilara. He’s very well guarded.”
She shrugged. “Mother has told me what to do. That’s all there is to it.”
I didn’t want to think of her death, my oldest friend. I wanted her to come to her senses, to go away somewhere and be a weaver. But I knew she never would. She’d carry out her orders or die trying.
“And Ardavan will win,” I said, half to myself.
“What of it?” Dilara answered. “The usurper will be gone and his army with him. No Sun Lord will ever threaten Mother again. Don’t you see, Lale? It’s almost over. Soon we can go somewhere and just be ourselves. The way we used to talk about, remember?”
“But can we? What if Kuijain falls and Ardavan conquers Bethiya? What will happen then?”
Again the shrug. “Mother will know how to deal with Ardavan. Anyway, we could go to the Despotates. There’s lots of opportunity for clever women in the south.”
Her blindness took my breath away. I wanted to scream at her: Ardavan won't stop at Bethiya—he'll take the Despotates, too, and then where will you run? Everything will go down into the dark. We'll all be slaves. How can you want this?
But I didn’t dare speak. Her eyes glittered and I could see her sharp little teeth, and I knew she’d call me traitor if I did, and I didn’t know what might happen after that.
But surely there's a way out, I thought, as I tried to choke down my despair. If I can keep Terem alive, maybe he'll defeat Ardavan, and then I'll work out what to do next. But how do I stop Dilara?
I could try to kill her. But she was my best Mend, or she once had been, and I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Moreover, I wasn’t sure I could beat her, and if I were dead she’d get Terem for sure. I was still trapped, and my happiness at being in her company had fled. Now I wanted nothing so much as to get away from her. But I had to play the game out, as if I agreed with it, so I said, “You’re right. I guess we could go south, if we had to.”
Dilara picked up her wine and gulped it. She’d already consumed well over half the flask, and now she upended it to drain the last drop into her cup. “And do you know something else?” She leaned conspiratorially toward me, her cheekbones stark in the flickering light of the lamps, flushed with drink.
“What?” I asked, making my voice eager.
“Can I trust you, Lale?”
“With anything.”
“I shouldn’t tell even you this, but you’re my sister and we’re both from Three Springs. Mother wouldn’t mind, now that it’s all so nearly over.” She paused dramatically and said, “You’re the Inamorata because of me.”
Fool that I still was, I had no idea what she meant. “I am?” I asked stupidly.
She laughed. “A surprise, isn’t it? Everybody thought the Surina died of sickness, even you. Well she did, sort of. I gave it to her.”
'"Gave it to her?”
“That’s what I said. Lale, she was my finest work. Even you didn’t suspect, did you?”
“No,” I whispered. Oh, poor ghost, no wonder you walked. Murdered, and with no justice for your death.
“It took a lot of plaiming,” she said proudly. “I began by getting a place as a cleaning girl at Jade Lagoon. That was the easy part. You know how the menials come and go.” “Yes,” I answered dully.
“Then I watched how things worked for a couple of months, but I couldn’t find a way to get at her. But finally we were sent to clean the Porcelain Pavilion, and by the time we left, I knew what I'd do. I used her chair, the one on the left of the dais, I'm sure you’ve seen it. Nilang gave me the poison—^it was one she never told us about at Three Springs. I mixed it with a little oil and painted it on the chair arm, where the Surina would rest her left hand.”
“But the Pavilion’s well guarded,” I said. “All the palace buildings are.”
Dilara laughed. “You did train at Three Springs, didn’t you? I got in by the roof and through the upper windows; any of us could have managed it. And they don’t guard the inside, only the outside, the fools.”
“And the poison worked.”
“Perfectly. It’s only potent for a day and a half, but I knew there was a performance that night, and I was sure she’d get it on her palm, and she did. It’s slow, but it looks like a flux of the lungs, and that was the end of the Surina, and your way was clear.” She giggled. “I hope you appreciate my help. You’re living in luxury because of me.”
All I could say was, “How did you know you wouldn’t kill the Sun Lord?”
“It was a possibility. But her death had to look natural, and this was the only way I could find to do it. Nobody else could sit in that chair, and the Sun Lord’s was on the opposite side to the poison, so he wasn’t likely to touch it. I told Mother, and she decided to take the risk. It worked.”
A flood of sorrow swept through me. I hadn’t known Merihan. She was nothing to me. She’d been an obstacle and Mother removed her. But still, inexplicably, I grieved for her death.
Dilara was scrutinizing me anxiously. “I did well, don’t you think?”
She wanted my praise. Astonished at the warmth and sincerity I could still put into my voice, I said, “You did brilliantly. Mother must have been very pleased.”
“She was. But for this I'm going to need your help. I have to know in advance when
he’s going to join the battle.”
“All right. How long do you need?”
“He’ll probably strike at the Exiles early in the day. If you tell me the evening before that, it’ll be enough. I’U also want to know his movements between then and the next moming, if you can find them out.”
“He’ll fight soon,” I said. “He intends to attack as soon as the^ Exiles" reach Gultekin, to catch them tired.” I paused, then asked, “How are you going to kill him?”
“I’ll work something out. Better if you don’t know.”
I wanted to press her to tell me more but dared not. “I’d better be off,” I said.
Before I left, she gave me the poison in two small ceramic vials, their stoppers sealed with wax and secured with thin copper wire. I wrapped them in a scrap of paper and put them into my belt pouch. Then she came with me down to the street to say good-bye. Outside, the evening was cold and damp, with an edge of the night’s frost to come.
“Until later,” Dilara said. I had to embrace her in farewell, although my heart rebelled at it. With deep relief I at last slipped away into the deepening dusk.
Terem and his officers were still conferring when I reached the compound, and I retumed to our quarters in the villa without attracting attention. The house was almost deserted, barring the handful of servants the district magistrate had found for us. When I reached our bedchamber I went to the balcony door, undid the latch, and drew it open, admitting a flood of chilly air. Some twenty feet distant was the parapet of the compound wall. Dilara could come over it easily, then reach the bedroom by way of the balcony. Or, if he slept instead at his battle headquarters outside the walls, she’d track him down there. Or she might take him as he mounted his horse or as he walked among his soldiers. He’d be easy enough to find, and she was prepared to buy his death with her own.
I closed the balcony door and examined the latch. It was laughable. If she came this way, she would get past it in an instant.
I had the servants bring food to the bedchamber; there was no point in waiting for Terem, who might be half the night. As I began to eat, the majordomo came to the door and said, apologetically, that a message had come for me that aftemoon, but the fool of a gate porter had neglected to bring it to him.