A new guest was arriving. He was a merchant, well dressed, with heavy gold rings on nearly every finger. He had an apprentice with him, and a couple of servants. I thought he would certainly have slaves at home, but traveling with slaves was a lot of trouble, and he had enough money to employ servants instead.
“Back in Kyros’s harem,” Alibek said softly, “I always liked to see guests like him. They have a tendency to be generous. All those rings—it makes it easy to slip a present to a slave who’s pleased you.”
“Ha,” I said. I glanced quickly around the courtyard to see if anyone was listening, but no one was nearby. “I never got presents.”
“You weren’t very good at your job, then.”
“I hated it,” I said, trying to keep the edge out of my voice and failing. “Sophos gave me to men who wanted to hurt me, not who wanted to pretend I was their lover. Not the kind who gave gifts.” I swallowed, then added, “Men like that always wanted Meruert. It would’ve been pointless for me to try to come on to them. If it was a busy night and I knew there was no escape, I’d sometimes look for a man who seemed very drunk. Sometimes I got lucky and he passed out right after he took me back to the room. I’d yank off his boots, untie his pants, mess up his clothes a little, and leave the bedclothes rumpled. I figured when he woke up in the morning he’d think he just didn’t remember the good time he’d had.”
Another guest was passing through the courtyard. This was a woman—wealthy and powerful, whoever she was. It was clear just from her bearing.
“Did Sophos offer the harem to female guests?” Alibek asked.
“He rarely had them.”
“Kyros did, on occasion. I got picked to serve a female guest one time. She didn’t really want much, once she had me back in her room. I think she was mostly showing off her importance. She had me rub her feet while she drank wine. I told her she was beautiful, and she gave me the rest of the wine. She was pockmarked, actually, but she liked the flattery.”
Another man passed by—an officer. I felt myself tense up as he passed, and once his back was to me, I pointed and said in a low voice, “That’s the kind of man I tried to avoid.”
“Why?” Alibek asked.
“He’s the kind who hurts girls.”
“How do you know?”
“I just know.” My voice was flat. The conversation wasn’t fun anymore.
“What tells you?”
“The set of his shoulders, the cold eyes—” I broke off. “The smirk, the way he walks, like he thinks he owns everything he sees. If they don’t want to hurt you, they want to humiliate you.”
“Yeah,” Alibek said, and let out a breath. “I’d have said it was something about the boots. His boots were too well kept.”
“I never noticed boots.”
“The men with really grubby, filthy boots—they usually wanted something quick but were never generous, at all. The ones with well-kept boots were more likely to be generous. But the ones who were really meticulous, with the perfectly kept boots—watch out.”
“All of them?”
“No, not all. Just some of them.” He twitched his shoulders up, like he was trying to shrug away an unwanted touch. “I steered clear of all of them, though, if I could.”
A sorceress’s palanquin sat in the corner of the courtyard. As I talked with Alibek, the sorceress herself came down. She wore blue silk, a rope of pearls, and six spell-chains that I could see. She passed into the bathhouse, though she didn’t look dirty, and closed the door.
“Did Sophos ever entertain sorceresses?” Alibek asked.
“No. Did Kyros?”
“No, but his wife had been a sorceress. She hated the harem—all of us.” Alibek ran his finger along an old scar on the side of one arm.
“Have you ever met a sorceress before, aside from Kyros’s wife?” I asked.
“No.”
“They’re a crazy bunch.”
“That much I know. I’ve known people who were owned by them in the past…”
“Oh yes,” I said. “Though you know…we met a sorceress last year who was really pretty much owned by her slaves. They knew her secrets and used them to control her. That was interesting.”
“Surely they weren’t open about that.”
“We stayed there for the winter. The servants liked me. They told me the story.”
“Hmm. Does she live in Daphnia?”
“No, she’s in Casseia. It’s a long way away.”
“So what was the secret?” Alibek’s eyes held only curiosity now. The mockery was gone.
“She had once been a slave herself—owned by a sorceress in Persia. She’d spied on her mistress, and then after her mistress died, she ran away, went to Casseia, and told someone in the Sisterhood of Weavers that she was her old mistress’s apprentice. And it worked! They took her in, she learned sorcery—or finished learning, I’m not sure—and now she’s a sorceress with a merchant company and a houseful of servants.”
“A houseful of servants who own her.”
“Well, yes.” I checked around us for anyone listening, then added, “The servants approached me before I left. They have a conspiracy of their own—they believe women as crazy as the sorceresses shouldn’t run an empire. Instead, it should be ruled by servants, and the sorceresses should serve them.”
“They’re right.”
“They wanted me to help them.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because I think it’s better for the Alashi for the Empire to be run poorly.”
“An empire run by servants might not be invading the steppe.”
“Not this year. But in a few years…” I’d had this same conversation with Lauria. “The sorceresses need karenite. They have to have it. They’ve used up the karenite down here, and the Alashi control what’s on the steppe. You can’t let your enemy control something you need that badly. You can’t. Sooner or later…” I shrugged.
“We can’t win against the Greeks,” Alibek said. “We can hold them off—we can distract them with disorder. But unless the Empire falls, they can wait a year or two and try again.”
“They’ll never defeat the Alashi.”
“They could kill most of us. And scatter the remnant.”
“So you think we need to overthrow the Empire to be safe?”
“We need?” The mockery was back. “You do have ambitions for a former slave girl. Don’t you?”
I had started to relax in his company at last—now my hands clenched. “I meant the Alashi. Not you and me.”
“Oh.” His lips twitched.
I wanted to scream at him to stop laughing at me, but that would only make him laugh harder. I stood, clenching my teeth. “I think our midday meal is coming,” I said.
Alibek caught my arm. “I think that after we finish here we should go down to Casseia and talk with the servants again.”
“We’d need to talk to Janiya,” I said, hoping that Janiya would have more sense. “It’s for her to decide. Not me.”
Our new clothes arrived late in the day—too late for us to go out. I went to bed after dinner and pretended to go to sleep. I was tired of Alibek’s mockery, and this way he would leave me alone. Again, I heard him rattling around for a while. He finally went to bed, and I heard his quiet breathing on the other side of the curtain.
I didn’t mean to go to the borderland that night. I had nothing new to tell Zhanna, I’d given up hope of ever finding Lauria, and I did not want to see Kyros. But there Kyros was, almost as soon as I slipped into sleep. “Hello, Tamar,” he said, with a friendly smile that made me want to punch him in the face. “It’s good to see you again.”
“What do you want?”
“It’s been a while since we’ve had the chance to chat. Lauria still hasn’t told us anything useful, but then again…you bought her some time. Some time. Would you like to tell me something that might buy her a little more?”
I felt sick. I had nothing prepared to tell him. “Go rot in Zeus
’s lost hell,” I said.
“Oh, Tamar,” he said, shaking his head sadly. “Don’t you know Lauria is my daughter? We’re on the same side here. Neither one of us wants to see her hurt—you don’t, I don’t. It’s just a matter of giving enough information to the magia…”
“If you wanted to protect Lauria, why did you take her to Penelopeia?”
“My orders were to execute her immediately. I took her to Penelopeia hoping she’d be able to talk her way out if she were face-to-face with the magia. A mistake, clearly.” He shook his head sadly. “What can you tell me?”
My breath was uneven. “I could tell you how we broke the slaves out of the mine.” That seemed harmless enough.
“All right. That’s something I’d like to know.”
“Lauria slipped in by having one of the slaves from Sophos’s harem sell her there as a slave. She was on the inside and I was on the outside. She took in poison and put it in the guards’ food. Meanwhile, I went to the guards and told them I was a sorceress. One of the Younger Sisters. I tried bargaining with the officer in charge for some of whatever they were mining, with some success, until the uprising started and I cut the man’s throat.”
Kyros leaned forward. “Where did you hear about the Younger Sisters?”
“Lycurgus,” I said. No reason not to offer up a dead man.
“Hmm. What do you know about them?”
“That you’re in trouble. That they’re after the Weavers and greatly outnumber them,” I said. I was making this up—I had no idea if the Younger Sisters outnumbered the Weavers, but the whole purpose of our mission was to set them against each other as a distraction. Maybe this could be to my advantage after all. “You think the Alashi are the greatest threat to you, but you’re wrong. Your enemies are in your own house. They’re among you. You’ll never know who they are—I couldn’t tell you their names if I wanted to, I don’t know any! But they’re strong and growing stronger. If you had any sense, you’d change sides now.”
That would be a good line to leave him with. I pulled back and felt the borderland slipping away. “Wait,” I thought I heard Kyros say, and I shrugged and made some noise of false regret. I opened my eyes to the darkness of my own bed, and Alibek’s breathing. “Arachne’s web,” I whispered out loud. “Let it turn out all right, telling him those things about the Younger Sisters.” The fact that I’d made it up didn’t make me feel better. It could be true, after all.
I closed my eyes again, because it was a long way to morning. As I slipped into sleep, I told myself firmly to stay away from the borderland. I didn’t want to have any more talks with Kyros tonight.
We dressed in our new clothes in the morning. I was struck by how very Greek Alibek looked, dressed in his white linen tunic. He visited the bathhouse for a shave and a trim. I went down so that Zarina could brush my hair and braid it. It had grown out over the winter, and I hadn’t gotten around to cutting it short again. Back in Greek lands, I found it hard to shake off the thought that I was a runaway slave and not the merchant I pretended to be. But Zarina held up a mirror for me, and after looking for a moment, I felt calmer. I looked older than I remembered—a woman, not a girl. I saw certainty rather than fear. Besides, it hardly mattered what Pelagia saw when she looked at me. I would have karenite to offer her, and nothing else would matter.
Alibek and I walked together to the neighborhood of the Temple of Alexander. Soldiers filled the streets everywhere I looked. The crowd hummed with cheer, as if they were going to a festival. I could hear happy shouts as soldiers met old friends. I wiped my sweaty hands on my new clothes and I heard Alibek’s breath quicken, but the soldiers were busy, and no one noticed us.
The Temple of Alexander made me think of a big tortoise, squatting over the city. Soldiers waited in a long line to make their offerings. For their own good fortune, most brought a male animal—I saw roosters, goats, sheep, and even a young bull. A few had fruit or flowers. Coming out, they looked eager—energetic. Sometimes, when Lauria was seized by the cold fever, it gave her strength, rather than merely driving her to distraction. The soldiers looked like that. One met my eyes and gave me a pleasant nod, and I felt a hint of pride until my knowledge—enemy! Other side!—caught up with me, and then I felt sick.
We didn’t know exactly where to find Pelagia’s house, and were too nervous to ask directions, so we wandered until we saw the statue of the leaping fish. The fish balanced lightly on the curve of its tail, mouth open. The doorstep had a mosaic made of white tiles, some shiny and others dull. I stepped close and knocked on the door.
No one answered.
I knocked again and waited. After a little while I took a step back and looked at the house. No smoke rose from inside, but this time of year someone might keep only embers burning during the day to avoid heating up the house. Midday meals could be eaten cold.
I knocked again. This time the door opened a crack. “Go away,” the servant hissed.
I offered him a small wineskin, but he pushed it back. “Not right now. It’s a bad time.”
“Your mistress…”
“…will see no one, and your wine doesn’t make it worth it.”
“I could give you spirits of wine.”
“She beat a doorman half to death once for letting someone in unbidden. Not worth it. She sees no one. Go away.” He shoved the door shut. I snatched my hand clear just in time.
Alibek looked at me. “That’s it, then? Do you have another name?”
I knocked again. The doorman said from the other side, “I will call for soldiers to come. I will have them search your pockets, don’t think I won’t!”
I stepped back, swallowing hard. How did he know? Oh, he was no fool. He could guess easily enough. I wondered how many others would know—was it time to lose our shiny pebble? But maybe Zarina would know another name. I held on to it for now.
“That’s it?” Alibek asked again as we walked.
“I think the servant knew what he was about,” I said. “Have you ever seen a sorceress in a dark fever? Have you heard stories?”
“But if you have something she wants…”
“They’re not reasonable.” I swallowed. “We’ll ask Zarina if she knows anyone else. Or maybe we can wait this one out.”
“How long until she, you know, changes? And when she does, will she get more reasonable or less reasonable?”
“There’s no way to know.” Zarina had said this one was particularly bad. I shook my head in frustration. Surely other Younger Sisters lived in Daphnia.
But Zarina knew of no others. “How much of a hurry are you in?” she asked as she rinsed my hair. “Pelagia can’t stay dark forever.”
“Do you think anyone noticed me today?”
“Hmmm, maybe. You’ll know if someone knocks on your door to buy your wares.”
“Ugh,” I said.
“Why are you so set on finding the Younger Sisters? I can give you a dozen names of discreet, halfway sensible Weavers who will pay you well.”
“I don’t need money.”
“Then I can’t help you. The Younger Sisters keep their names secret. I know about Pelagia because she’s so shattered, she doesn’t keep secrets well.”
I shook my head in frustration and disgust. “No doubt some of your sensible ones are in the Younger Sisters, or at least sympathize.”
“Yes, but I don’t know which. Some are quite loyal to the Weavers, even if they feel that the Weavers are ungenerous with materials they need. It’s as much to do with friendships as self-interest.”
I caught Zarina’s hand as she combed my hair. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to come with us?”
“My answer still stands. I think you’re as mad as any sorceress.” I turned to look at her, and she gave me a wry smile. “I know what you were. I have eyes and I know what to look for.”
“Then you know why I don’t understand.”
“I am not abused here—in fact, I am well protected. I have enough to eat. I live comfo
rtably.”
“But you’re a slave. Things could change. You could be sold.”
She laughed. “You could be executed.”
There wasn’t much I could say to that, so I thanked her and went back up to my room.
“Did she know another name?” Alibek asked.
I shook my head.
“So now what?”
I lay down, thinking about what she’d said about friendships, rather than self-interest. “It’s possible to send messages to sorceresses through the Temple of Athena,” I said. “I’ll go tomorrow.”
“Who are you going to send a message to?”
I closed my eyes, reminding myself that she was a friend. “Zivar,” I said. “The sorceress Lauria and I stayed with last winter.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
LAURIA
Even with my mother’s care, I was sick for days. Despite my fears, she didn’t get sick as the servants had. I had fever dreams and black sleep, but no more trips to the borderland. When I was awake, my head and back ached terribly, and I threw up most of what I ate or drank, though at least a little must have stayed down because I stayed alive. What would happen if I died of this—would the gate within me stay open, as the magia fears? I wondered one day, lying in bed. Perhaps I should try to let myself die; surely if the gate stayed open, that would be a miserable problem for the Weavers. But then I wouldn’t be able to free the rivers…
I had plenty of time to think about what I had seen in the Weavers’ library that night, though my headache made thinking difficult. It was clear that they had been talking about me and wanted me kept alive, at least for now, because of the danger I posed. So if I try to escape, the guards probably have orders to stop me, but not to kill me. Not that it would be difficult to stop me. Right now, I can barely rise from my bed. But sorceresses on the other side of the borderland—a sorcerous djinn might be responsible for my ability to free djinni? If I was chosen somehow, why me? Why now? And if they could turn me into a gate, why not everyone? Every Alashi shaman, every Danibeki slave? Surely that would make things even more inconvenient for the Weavers.
Freedom's Sisters Page 8