by Jaine Fenn
Sais shook his head. ‘Nothing, probably.’
‘Chilwar, do you - are those, ah, are these symbols known to you?’
Sais pursed his lips. ‘Perhaps . . . but then, writing’s only for priests, isn’t it?’
‘Aye. It is, here, but I already know that you, ah, come from a far land.’
‘And the idea of people being able to read and write there, that’s one you could handle?’
‘I - perhaps I could. This is, ah, a time of great change.’
‘What are these papers anyway?’
‘I am not sure I should, ah, tell you.’
‘And I’m not sure I really do recognise this.’
For several heartbeats the two men stared at each other.
Then Einon’s shoulders sagged. ‘I doubt it will mean much to you anyway. I have devised a symbol I call heb. It allows, ah, it allows new ways of counting.’
‘But now you want us to hide your work,’ said Sais. ‘Why is that, Gwas?’
‘I - I think there may be those, ah, those in the Tyr who would misuse it.’
‘Misuse it? How?’
‘It—’ Einon grabbed the table for support. ‘This discovery is related to the Cariad’s most sacred place, the Sanctaith Glan, but in what way, ah, I do not yet know.’ He blinked rapidly, getting control of himself again. ‘So have you, ah, seen these symbols before?’
In response, Sais reached across the table and pointed to a particular mark. ‘Is this your “heb” symbol?’
‘Aye, it is.’
‘Where I come from, we call it zero. And those numbers with the dashes? They’re negative numbers.’
‘Negative numbers,’ echoed Einon, his expression unreadable. ‘Mothers preserve us.’
When the priest said nothing more, Sais asked, ‘What’ll happen if Fychan isn’t back in time for Damaru to go into the Tyr?’
‘I, ah, I am not sure. The Traditions state that the boy’s nearest male relative must stand guardian.’
‘His nearest male relative is several weeks’ walk away. But his mother is here. In a situation like this, can’t Kerin go in with him?’
‘It would not be right,’ he said with a frown.
‘Does it explicitly say so anywhere?’
Einon hesitated, no doubt running through the Traditions. Finally he said, ‘There is nothing to forbid a woman accompanying a male guardian to the tests, though it is most irregular. But she can only go as well as a man, not instead. The Traditions are clear that the boy must have a male relative with him at all times.’
‘Does it have to be a blood relative?’ asked Sais.
Kerin suddenly saw where this was going. Her heart jumped into her mouth.
‘What do you, ah, mean?’
‘What if she was married? Could she go in with her husband? He would be the boy’s father, legally speaking.’
‘In the eyes of the Mothers a man is responsible for his woman and any children she has borne, aye,’ Einon said.
‘Thank you, Einon. We’ll keep these papers safe for you.’
Carrying the stack back to her room, Kerin asked, ‘Did you really recognise what Einon has written here?’
‘Yes, though he’s a messy worker. Comes of using a quill and having to pay a fortune for your paper, I suppose. Forbidding zero - and advanced maths - would be another way of keeping your people primitive. I’d imagine it is forbidden knowledge, even if someone in the Tyr wants it.’ Then, almost to himself, he added, ‘Though if there’re examples in the Tyr, that also implies there’s Sidhe technology in there.’
‘Is that bad?’
‘Yes and no. It means my chance of finding a communication device is higher, but it also implies the Sidhe have been in this Sanctaith Glan place Einon mentioned.’
‘But you will be going into the Tyr anyway?’
‘I have to.’
‘So . . . you will be marrying me after all?’
‘Yes, I will.’ He looked at her with frank admiration. ‘If that’s all right with you.’
Not so long ago, this would have been the fulfilment of a dream. But the woman whose greatest hope was for a kind and caring husband had been left behind on the road. This was the only way to get them both into the Tyr. She had to find the truth and, if it was as Sais said, save Damaru from falling into the hands of the Sidhe.
‘Aye,’ she said. ‘It is. Shall we ask Einon now, then?’
They returned to Einon’s room to find him stuffing clothes into his pack.
‘Are you leaving?’ asked Sais.
‘I hope not. But I must, ah, be prepared.’
‘Then we’ll ask another priest.’
‘Ask them what?’
‘To marry us.’
Einon looked between the two of them, his eyebrows almost comically high.
‘We need to get married today,’ Sais said, ‘to provide Damaru with a male guardian.’
‘Ah, of course. I - I will do it, but it cannot be in capel. We can use Ebrilla’s yard.’
Ebrilla swept into action as soon as Sais announced their intentions, and would not be gainsaid. ‘You must both go to the bathhouse - you have time if you are quick. And I must go out too! We need more than small-beer in the wedding cup, and I have no oil in the house save that for cooking and the lamps!’
Walking back from the baths under a lowering sky, Sais turned to Kerin, a strange, sad expression on his face. ‘Kerin,’ he said, ‘if we both get out of this in one piece, you should divorce me.’
‘Divorce you?’ Even though her passion had matured into friendship, to have him state such intentions before they were even married bruised her heart.
‘Yes, assuming that’s possible. Or I can divorce you, if it’s easier.’
‘A man can unbind himself from a willing woman by a public declaration of his reasons in capel.’ Perhaps he might not divorce her, but would choose to live with her . . . if he did not leave. If they both survived.
They found Gorran loitering outside the house when they got back. ‘Mothers’ blessings!’ he said brightly as they went in.
‘Are you not coming to the ceremony?’ asked Kerin.
The boy shook his head. ‘The Gwas asked that I wait here, and tell him if anyone approaches the house.’ His tone made it obvious that he thought the request odd, but would not consider disobeying a priest.
Ebrilla had bought flowers and woven a chaplet for the bride. Wearing the skirt that was her last link to Dangwern, and with a strand of blossom hanging over one eye, Kerin walked into the tiny yard to be married to Sais.
Einon spoke the words of joining with an officiousness better suited to a great capel than a cramped yard. The ceremony was witnessed by her son, two relative strangers and an indifferent cat. Sais, of course, had to be prompted, both to speak his vows and to anoint Kerin’s forehead. Then they were sharing the wedding cup, and Kerin had wine for the second time in her life and, for the second time in her life, became a man’s wife.
Afterwards, when Kerin went to take Damaru back up to their room, Ebrilla chided her, ‘Tis your wedding day! I am sure your blessed child can amuse himself for a while with peas and rice in the dining room; I will keep an eye on him while I cook.’
Kerin, her head in a whirl, said, ‘You have done so much for us already. Please do not trouble yourself further - we are not required at the Tyr until later this evening.’
Ebrilla lowered her voice and said, ‘Precisely. And it would not be fitting to enter the Cariad’s presence without consummating your union. Now go you to your husband, woman.’
She did as Ebrilla said. When the door closed on his room, she and Sais looked at each other, then spoke at the same time.
‘Did you wish—?’ she began.
‘I think we—’ he started.
They both stopped, and burst out laughing. Finally Sais said, ‘God, Kerin, come here.’ He held out his arms.
She came over and let him hold her. Part of her, a low part, wanted more.
&nb
sp; He pulled away and said, ‘I think we need to prepare ourselves for the Tyr.’
‘How? We have no way of knowing what we will find.’
‘Which is why we need these.’ He pulled out a cloth-wrapped bundle from under the bed. ‘I’m sorry, this isn’t exactly a romantic wedding gift,’ he added. Inside were two knives, one short, one long.
‘Where did you get these?’
‘The short one is Fychan’s - hopefully I’ll be able to give it back to him some time - and the long one belonged to one of the reivers. I’d recommend you take the smaller one - unless you know how to use a knife?’
‘Only to prepare food or cut cloth.’ She laughed uncertainly. Kerin would never have imagined herself spending her wedding night - well, afternoon - this way: being taught how to knife-fight by a stranger from a different world.
The clouds outside lifted at sunset and as darkness fell they did lie together for a while, though chastely, giving comfort rather than spending passion. Kerin cried a little, and he stroked her hair.
She trusted Sais as she trusted no other living man. She loved him too, and always would, but it was not the love of man and wife. It was a strange kind of friendship, born of adversity and misunderstanding, built on trust and the knowledge that they were both outsiders.
Despite the short notice, Ebrilla had prepared an impressive wedding feast: smoked river-fish, seared meats in spicy sauce, rice fried with vegetables and fresh herbs, a long plait of wheat-bread, and afterwards, fruit chopped into cream with sweet pastries still hot from the oven. They also drank the rest of the wine. Kerin, too nervous to eat much, was tempted to drink to give herself courage, but limited herself to one cup. From the laughter and shouts outside, not everyone was being so restrained this evening.
She took Ebrilla aside after the meal and thanked her for all she had done. The old widow brushed off her thanks, saying. ‘A prayer to the Mothers when your boy ascends to take his place in the sky will be reward enough.’ Kerin hoped she would be granted that wish.
When Rhidian arrived to accompany them for the last time, Sais met him in the parlour with Kerin, who sat demure and silent. Sais introduced himself as Kerin’s husband, and said that Fychan was indisposed. No lies, merely incomplete truths. As they had hoped, Rhidian was pleased that a man had finally come forward who Kerin would defer too, even if that man insisted she attend the final test. Sais’s argument was that though she was a woman, she was Damaru’s relative by blood, which Sais was not - and Rhidian already knew how difficult Damaru could be without his mother.
Finally, Kerin prepared Damaru for their departure, explaining again what was to happen, how he must obey the Cariad and be prepared to go with her if she demanded it. He put his hands over his ears, not wanting to listen, then stamped round the room, shaking off Kerin’s attempts to calm him. The outburst left him sulky, but compliant.
CHAPTER THIRTY
That afternoon, Einon visited the Stonemasons’ Guild, leaving Gorran to watch for visitors at Ebrilla’s. There was little more to be gleaned about Anona’s disappearance there. The boy had been seeing her for a couple of seasons, but the other apprentices had been surprised when they eloped together. Einon had expected something like that. The trail was cold.
In truth he had gone out mainly because he did not want to sit alone with his fears in his room, without even the comfort of his papers. He had been surprised at the request to marry Sais and Kerin, though it made sense. Hopefully Sais would keep her in hand. He had been more surprised, and not a little put out, to have spent so much time and effort - not to mention paper and ink - and suffered temporary exile and assault, all in the cause of exploring the new numbers, only to have Sais casually flaunt his own knowledge of them.
None of which mattered as much as his concern at what Fychan might be saying to his questioners in the Tyr. Of course, the Escorai did not know that Einon had travelled with the boy, but those in the tender care of the enquirers were apt to give away information as a boatman might bail a leaky boat, throwing out whatever was needed to save his skin.
He considered not returning to Ebrilla’s - but where would he go, what would he do? The Tyr was his life, and Urien was his master.
Rhidian led them through streets thronged with people in party clothes, many of them masked, some dressed as animals or fools or monsters. They passed dancers and acrobats, men juggling fire-sticks or walking on stilts. People broke off just long enough to make the circle at Damaru. Sais made himself return the gesture, empty though it was. They were sent on their way with drunken cheers, though they also got themselves a following of more sober celebrants carrying lanterns and torches, singing what sounded like a hymn.
The square was one huge party. Booze and food sellers were doing a roaring trade, and music came from several competing bands. Dancers whooped and spun and couples embraced in the twilight, laughing and groping. A pair of monitors carrying flaming torches came up to them, made the circle, then began to clear their path of any revellers partying too hard to notice the approach of a sacred procession. Sais glimpsed more torches at the maw of the Tyr’s entrance: presumably another skyfool, going in ahead of them.
The Tyr loomed over them, a great menacing mass. As he watched, the sun sent out a last flash of light from the beanstalk. He shivered for a moment and looked past Damaru to Kerin. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, her eyes bright. He felt nervous; she must be shit-scared. Sais again felt a warm flush of admiration for her; he doubted he’d be as calm in her situation. He’d like to have admitted his reason for not wanting her physically, but he’d encountered prejudice before, not least on the world where he grew up, and he was damn sure his sexuality was unacceptable here. He’d subjected the poor woman to enough culture shock already.
As they neared the Tyr the party-goers ebbed away and they were escorted by priests and soberly attired townsmen. Brightly dressed children threw cut flowers under their feet, filling the air with the smell of bruised petals. Monitors with more hi-tech torches stood to attention along the wide walkway cut into the mountain. They passed into the shadow of the Tyr to shouted blessings from the followers left outside. The cobbles of the street gave way to stone, and the walls closed in.
Damaru came to an abrupt halt. Kerin stopped at once, Sais a step further on. He looked over to see the boy whimpering and hugging himself, while Kerin comforted him. Rhidian, walking a few paces ahead, finally noticed and turned around.
Sais caught Damaru’s eye and said quietly, ‘It’s going to be all right. Your mother won’t let anything happen to you.’
Damaru stared at him reproachfully, but carried on, though he continued to eye the stone ceiling dubiously.
Rhidian whispered, ‘Did you not give him something to calm him?’
Kerin shook her head, as though daring the priest to tell her off.
The tunnels were machine-cut and lit by light-globes, though the doors set into the walls were wooden. They saw priests, monitors and uniformed servants. Some of the priests were on their way to join the party outside, and were already a little tipsy. Everyone stopped and circled their breasts as Damaru passed. Most of them stared at Kerin, and Sais had to resist the temptation to say, ‘What’s the matter, never seen a woman you haven’t broken before?’
They went deeper into the mountain, turning down smaller passages, emerging into larger ones, going up steps hewn into the rock. Sais tried to remember which way they’d come, but he didn’t reckon much to his chances of finding their way back out by themselves. Finally Rhidian led them to one of several similar doors in a long straight corridor. Their escort peeled off. Sais hoped they’d leave, but the two guards just marched a little way up the corridor, then stopped.
The priest turned to them. ‘You will be called to the testing chamber when the Cariad is ready to receive you. As your test is the last, this may be a while. I will have refreshments sent to you.’
Her voice strained, Kerin asked ‘Gwas, please, can you tell us anything ab
out what will happen?’
Rhidian’s face assumed the affronted expression of a proud man forced to expose his ignorance. ‘I cannot. You are in the hands of the Mothers now. Your escort will accompany you to the Divine presence and guide you out. Did you wish me to return with you to your lodgings once the test is done, to provide spiritual guidance when your child has gone to his fate?’
‘We’ll be fine, thank you,’ said Sais stiffly.
Rhidian opened the door to reveal a small room with no other exits. It contained a padded bench and a table. After showing them in he circled his breast. ‘Mothers bless you all,’ he said. Then he closed the door. Sais waited a while, then tried the handle. As he had expected, they were locked in.
Damaru began to pace. Sais and Kerin sat down on the bench to get out of his way.
A few minutes later the door opened and a servant came in carrying a tray of cakes. Sais tensed, wondering if it was worth going for the man, but decided to wait and see what happened.
Damaru was distracted by the cakes, which smelled fresh-baked. Kerin picked one up and offered it to him, but changed her mind just as Sais shouted, ‘No!’ She snatched the cake out of Damaru’s grasp.
‘I think it’s drugged,’ said Sais.
Kerin nodded. ‘Aye, the same thought just occurred to me - they did not mention food until they knew I had not given my boy anything.’
Damaru didn’t understand why he couldn’t have a cake. He made a dive for the table, then, when Kerin blocked him, squealed in frustration. He sat down and began slapping the floor with his open hands. Kerin, who’d obviously dealt with this particular flavour of tantrum before, watched but didn’t approach.
Sais was tempted to suggest that maybe giving him just one drugged cake might not be such a bad idea.
After a while Damaru’s rage blew itself out. He gave a dramatic sulky lift of his shoulders, then lay down on his side, hugging his knees. Kerin went over and put a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged her off.
The three of them sat in uneasy silence.
Sais tried to formulate a plan, but he didn’t have enough to go on yet. He needed to somehow lose the guards, and find the coms system, which would most likely be in the inner sanctum. For now, all he could do was watch, wait, and keep up the pretence.