Sheri Tepper - Jinian 01 - Jinian Footseer

by Jinian Footseer(Lit)

  `He does. And his wife died not a season ago.' This from Cat.

  `We have come to return you to Vorbold's House. Queen Vorbold has agreed to say nothing to the King about your lengthy absence. Provided that you leave for Dragon's Fire soon.' Bets Battereye, very busy making plans. `That is, ostensibly we came for that.'

  `And what are we going to do about that? I have no intention of marrying King Kelver, you know.'

  `We know.' Sarah sighed. `We haven't decided yet what is best to do.'

  So we talked, and plotted, and drank wine, and came to no conclusions. And I talked, and drank wine, and wondered what my Talent was. And night came on. They brought mattresses and blankets out of the wagon into my dwelling, and we built another little fire there and talked, still, into the dark hours.

  And Cat Candleshy said, `Ouf, but that wine has made me thirsty. Where is the pool you drink from, Jinian?'

  And I, deep in conversation with Murzy, said, `Ask the bunwit. He'll show you.'

  And then silence came down, with all of them looking at me, and Sarah trying not to laugh while Margaret did laugh.

  `How would you suggest I do that?' asked Cat.

  And my mouth came open, then shut, then open again. Because, of course, she couldn't. No more could I, except that I did. Because it had not been the forest all along that spoke to the animals for me; it had been me, myself.

  `What is it?' I breathed, afraid to say it out loud for fear it would go away. `What is it called?'

  `Not in the Index,' said Murzy. `Nowhere. Reading, some, I should think. Perhaps some power of the Flesh. Who knows? Bartelmy thinks it has something to do with your being born Dervish, but not reared Dervish. One must be reared to Dervishdom with all its special rites and foods to become a Dervish truly. But your Talent is not like theirs. It is yours. No one else's. Bartelmy says it is most unusual.'

  `Why did she ask me, then, about having no Talent?' I shouted. `Why?'

  `Shhh,' said Cat. `She probably asked you about not having a known Talent, Jinian. An unknown Talent might be, in some cases, like having none. What

  insignia would one wear? What is the costume of the type? Ah? We said to Bartelmy when she found us upon the road that it would not matter to you, for you had learned the first lesson well. She asked you only to satisfy herself.'

  The first lesson. Of course. The lesson of invisibility. As the old dams were invisible. Their Talents mattering not, except when they needed them. So what was I? A Beast-talker. Jinian Footseer, Beast-talker. I said it out loud. Giggling.

  Then we were all giggling, even Dodie, who had watched all this with wide, wondering eyes, and the night closed in around us peacefully, the fire went out, and we slept. During the night bunwit came in and snuggled next to me. In the morning he was still there. Wondered, just for a time, could he come along with us. Decided not. He would be easy prey for any hungry Gamesman, and his life was in Chimmerdong. Still, when I left him there, it was harder than leaving Grompozzle of Misquick had ever been. They had helped me little, but the bunwit had helped me much. I kissed him on his nose. I don't know what he made of that.

  Slow, the wagon in its way back to Xammer. A long road, that, twisting down from the heights to the ford of the north fork of the Stonywater. Down Long Valley, easy, among fields as bright as jewels with the horses muttering in their noses and I telling them what good, biddable beasts they were. Talking to geese. Talking to strange bunwits in hedges. Singing to birds in the air or on treetops, sometimes out loud and sometimes silently. Made no difference to the beasts. They heard me, either way. I was beginning to hear them back, more clearly every day. It was embarrassing to realize that bunwit and tree rat had been talking to me the whole time I was in Chimmerdong.

  "I don't suppose there are d'bor in Chimmerdong,' I had asked.

  `Oh, yes, ma'am,' had said bunwit.

  `Are there any?' I had asked, cursing him for not answering me in the first place.

  "I told you, yes,' he would have said, hurt. `You never listen!'

  Like one deaf, I. No longer. No, I sang and tweeted and muttered up my nose like any horse. Cat told me at last to cease making such noises, as it sounded like a zoo. It didn't trouble her, really. She was only cautioning me for the future.

  Because there was a future. Oh, yes, indeed, indeed.

  Ferry across the Middle River. Then a bit faster down the good road to Gaywater, across and into the town. When we came to Vorbold's House, the Queen was there to greet us. She did not look angry. Merely firm.

  `Your friends have advised you? Good. You will depart soon for Dragon's Fire. I have decided to send one of the Gamesmistresses with you. Silkhands, the Healer. She needs a break in duty; you need someone to keep an eye on you, Jinian.' That was all. She started to go in before me, then turned.

  `I'd almost forgotten. Your mother and brother have asked to meet with you as soon as you return. The visit will be chaperoned, of course. They are in the town now. I will have word sent.'

  I felt my face turn cold, knew it was pale, for the pallor reached deep within. I started to say no, reached out as though to stop her, then held my hand. Mendost. And Mendost's mother. Not mine. Garz was Mendost's father. Not mine. And Mendost was not my brother. Good. So let them come.

  Murzy took me by the shoulder. `Tha'll be awright, chile.'

  `I know. Don't worry, Seer Murzemire. Your seventh will take care of herself. If worse comes to worst, I have a certain Dagger.'

  `Oh, chile, don't even think of that unless you must.

  It's a wicked weapon, to be sure. Remember always that those of the wize-art do not use great powers for small things. And great weapons, we use those only for great need.'

  But I had thought of it. If I had not thought of the Dagger, it would have been impossible to face the two of them - not even with the School servant sitting only a little way away, as he would, where he could see anything untoward that might happen.

  I went to the Queen. Somehow she was not so forbidding as I had remembered.

  1 have learned I am the daughter of a Dervish,' I told her, giving no preamble. `You will know how Dervish daughters are born, though I did not.'

  She blinked, flushed, started to say something, then was quiet. Finally she nodded for me to go on.

  `The woman they paid to bear me is no blood kin to me. The child she had borne earlier, Mendost, is no kin to me at all. They have asked to see me, and though they are not kin, I am willing to see them. But not like this!' I gestured at myself. Tattered leather trews. A new, clean shirt, but it was too small. Murzy hadn't known how much I'd grown. My boots were full of holes. `I am a Dervish's child,' I said again. `I will meet them when I look like a Dervish's child.'

  `You are... a Dervish?' She was very curious about this, and I realized that no Dervish daughter would ever be Schooled in a place like this.

  `What Talent I have is my own affair. I do not ask for the fringes of a Dervish. I ask merely for dignity suiting my station. I am the betrothed of a King and a Dervish's daughter.' What station that might be was subject to some bitter conjecture. Only in this false world did it have importance. To me, what did it mean to be a Dervish daughter?

  That night and the following day, for the first and only time at Vorbold's House, I took advantage of the tiring women and the bath attendants and all the rest of it. My hair was cut and curled. My nails were trimmed and polished - and a hard time the woman had of it, too. There were ashes beneath my nails that had been there for two seasons. They made my dress gray, like a Dervish's dress, with fringes that would remind one of a Dervish's fringe, but of an iridescent fabric, glistening like a seashell, with a flowing cape and train and a close headdress with a veil. I was asked if I would wear a device, and I told them yes. Beasts embroidered in an endless procession on the hem of the cape. I think six sewing women stayed up all night to finish it. I refused to be ashamed. It would go with me to Dragon's Fire if I had to go to Dragon's Fire. It was not too much to ask in return for wha
t the King had paid. After all, Vorbold's House had not had to feed or clothe me for most of a year.

  And on the morrow I went to the visitors room off the courtyard, letting them wait a good time for me before I showed myself.

  She, Eller, was smaller than I remembered. As a child I thought her beautiful, longing to be like her, enough like her to be loved by her, perhaps; but now I saw the deep lines from her nose to the corners of her mouth and her eyes darting at me, quick and away, quick and away, like some predator seeking prey. Mendost had grown fatter, with piggier eyes, but then I had not had centipig to compare him to before. His expression and hers had not improved. They were hot and avid both, Eller with a fine bead of moisture on her forehead. I moved to my chair quietly, regarding them in silence. The School servant was one I knew well, Michael, bigger even than Mendost. He sat quietly in one corner, merely being there in case he was needed. Except for meetings with female servants and kin, some such servant - strong, discreet, very well paid - was always present at meetings between students and the world outside. Only if King Kelver himself came calling could I be alone with him. Mendost looked at him and shifted uneasily, hitching his chair closer to mine.

  `Leave the chair where it is, Gamesman,' rumbled Michael. I smiled at him. Mendost did not.

  `Jinian,' said Mother - what do I say now? un-Mother? Not-Mother? `Jinian. We have quite longed to see you.'

  `Oh?' I asked politely. I moved my arm so the gray fringes swung. She saw the fringes but did not understand. Her forehead creased as it had used to do before a tantrum, but she bit her lip, turning to Mendost, those tiny beads of sweat glistening above her brow.

  `We have thought... perhaps we did not do well to ally you to Dragon's Fire,' he said, all in a rush.

  `You didn't ally me,' I reminded him. `You sold me. It was you who were allied. Or are. If the alliance has not been broken.' I knew in that moment that they wanted to break it. They had sought to use King Kelver, but he had turned the Game on them and used them instead.

  `No, it hasn't been broken. But... but you were very young...'

  `I believe I remarked so at the time.'

  `Well, at the time perhaps we didn't give that fact sufficient weight. But...'

  `But, Jinian,' said un-Mother, `we've thought it over since. It wasn't fair to you. I'm sure if you were to tell the King you are unwilling... too young... he would consider breaking the contract.'

  `After all,' interrupted Mendost, `He already has a living wife.'

  `Had,' I said, giving them time to think that out. `Had a living wife.'

  Mendost recovered first. `Even so. You are still very young...'

  `I am sixteen,' I said, `Of those who marry, many do so at that age.'

  `You could stay here at Xammer until you are twenty some odd. Though you have no Talent, Stoneflight Demesne would pay...'

  `As we should have done, dearest daughter. As we should have done.' Mother was patting the air with her hands, gulping, aware that a tantrum would not answer, a fit would not accomplish, but unable to come up with much else in the way of response. What monstrously important thing must have brought her here that she controlled herself like this! `Now that Garz is gone, there would be no objection...' As though Garz had ever objected to anything she or Mendost had wanted. As though Garz had been solely responsible for their treatment of me!

  Enough of this, I said to myself.

  `Why would Stoneflight Demesne pay for a Dervish's daughter?' I asked them.

  Un-Mother started up from her chair, face chalk white, hands raised against me as against a ghost piece. Mendost growled in his throat, turning red, and I saw his hands clench. Now, if the servant had not been there, he would have hit me. I pretended not to notice.

  I went on, `I am grown now. I have met my true mother. She is not pleased that Eller of Stoneflight Demesne broke contract with the Dervishes. Perhaps Stoneflight Demesne should consider what it will do if the Dervishes declare Game against it. A broken contract with them can be very dangerous, I understand.' I stood up, turning to make the gray fringes swirl and flow. Let them think what they would about my true inheritance. Let them fear it. Let them fear lest I choose to return to Stoneflight Demesne. Let them fear to return there themselves.

  `They wouldn't...' Mendost.

  `It was long ago...' Un-Mother.

  `It was that same sixteen years,' I pointed out, `which you say is not long. No, no, Mendost. If I am very young, then sixteen years is a short time. If sixteen years is not a short time, then I am not young.'

  `Why would they?' he blustered. `After all this time.'

  I pretended to consider this. `It may have been concern for my safety which has held them until now. Once Stoneflight Demesne sold me to King Kelver, however, my safety was no longer a concern. Now the Dervishes will do as they like.' I said this idly, as though I didn't care, staring out the window into the courtyard the while. The Dervishes would do exactly as they liked, of course, and ignoring Stoneflight entirely would probably be part of it. No matter. The two of them didn't know that.

  When I turned back to them, I wore the expression I believed Dervishes might wear. Remote and cold as ice. Whatever the reality, my pretense was good enough. They could not answer it. Could not speak to it. They had found guilt enough in themselves to tally over for a season or two, seeking where the danger to themselves might lie. They had not thought of that when they had cheated the Dervishes. They had not thought of that when they cheated me. Well, let them think of it now.

  I had intended to let it go, coldly, as a Dervish might. The sight of them there, so avid, so intent upon their own needs, stirred me to a baffled fury. `Why?' I demanded of her. `Why didn't you let them have me? Why didn't you let me go among my own kind, where I would have been... been cared about? You didn't care about me, and they'd paid you

  `Not enough,' she cried, shaking her hair into a circling cloud, moved by some wild imagining to become for an instant as mist-eyed and lovely as I had dreamed her as a child. `Oh, not enough. We had a dream crystal, Mendost and I. It showed us. There's a thing the Dervishes can do. To be young again. New bodies. I wanted one.' And she reached to Mendost, clinging to him, so I saw in his face that mixed repulsion and lust toward her which I had seen so often in his face without understanding until that moment.

  Mendost and his mother. Lovely Eller and her son. I had seen that balance changing, too, over the years as the dream crystal dwindled and the lust faded and the revulsion increased.

  A dream crystal! Fools, oh, fools. Every simple Schoolgirl knew the dangers of that. Every pawn, every half-wit. What of themselves had they sold to buy a dream crystal? What of themselves had they sold to suck it together, like two avid children with a lolly? And such dreams! False, foolish, corrupt. Oh, gods, why had I let them come here at all?

  `Dervishes can't do that,' I said flatly, telling her what Cat had told me without caring whether they would understand it or not. `The Dervishes can't do that. They can only prolong their own lives through such self-denial as you would not submit to for a moment, but that is all. The crystal was false. Most of them are false, I understand. Long ago there were true ones, but no more. You've sold your safety for a false, obscene dream. And now the dream is dead.'

  So he sat looking at her with an expression I could not define. Was it pity mixed with horror? I think perhaps. And she at him, a kind of haggard terror. And both at both, hideous and hellish. I knew then that their crystal was gone, sucked to a shard, to nothingness, that the dream which had held them had faded.

  `Michael,' I said, sickened, `show these people out.'

  And that was the end of my tie to Stoneflight. The Demesne did not last long. Poremy and Flot came to Xammer a few days later, stopping to see me, telling me they were going to Dragon's Fire. Evidently they had struck up a friendship with Joramal and had been won away to the banner of the King. They did not know we were not kin, and I did not tell them. They were not bad boys.

  Mendost did what I ass
umed he would, Gamed so ardently on his own behalf that he died soon thereafter. His rages were already legendary, but his life was brief. I didn't find out for some time what happened to Eller. Truth to tell, I did not ask.

  After that one dramatic, self-indulgent scene, I went back to invisibilty. The gorgeous dress was hung away in dust sheets. From somewhere they found half a dozen simple gowns and suits for me. I went back to classes feeling like a large goose in gosling school. I knew - oh, I knew things they did not. The classes seemed not only irrelevant but childish. What did they have to do with the real world in which old gods walked and the shadow loomed? Only in this false little world of Xammer, this false little world of the Game... Well. No matter.

  I talked often with Silkhands. She knew something of the real world and she was only a few years older than I. If someone had reached her in time, she might have joined a seven, I think. Now her mind was full of other things. Coming as she did from a much frequented Demesne on a main road, she knew a lot of what was going on in the world. She whispered of the strange alliances that were rumored in the north, those even the sevens had worried over. `Huld the Demon,' she said, `and Prionde, King of the High Demesne! One would think Prionde would have learned from Bannerwell not to trust the Demon.' I told her I had heard of Prionde, and of his sister-wife, Valearn, the Ogress.