I walked her to the door of the inn. She turned back, unsmiling, just before the door closed. “I will try,” she said, and walked away.
The sun set very late that time of year. It was evening, but not yet sunset, when I saw a blue dot in the fading sky: a sorceress’s palanquin. Its color made it difficult to see, but it was coming toward us. Down it came, until it came to rest in the courtyard, set down gently like a hand might set down a kitten. Was it Zivar? I stood up.
Zivar flung back the curtain and stepped out, her eyes alight. She didn’t see me right away, but turned to the servant who’d come running. “I need a room,” she declared loudly. “Your best. And a dozen wineskins of excellent wine, a pot of grilled lamb, a half bushel of the best plums you can find this time of day, and a silk-covered pillow. And ready a bath for me; I hate travel.” She tossed the servant a drawstring bag, but he didn’t even look inside before rushing off to do her bidding. Then she saw me. “Tamar. My old friend, you are the most beautiful thing I have seen all day, and let me tell you, the view from a palanquin is excellent. Shall we go to your room to talk while they get mine ready?”
“That would probably be a good idea.” I glanced around. I would give her that piece of karenite, just to have it off my hands before anyone came to search. Zivar was flying as high as her palanquin. I hoped that she didn’t decide I was out to destroy her, like she had when I was her guest. If she tried to kill me, would anyone at the inn stop her? I found it hard to imagine that the Sisterhood of Weavers would worry much about my murder at the hands of a sorceress. Well, I’d brought her here, and there was no turning back now. “It’s right this way.”
Zivar glanced around as she came in. “I knew it had to be you, and not Photios, when I realized I could read the writing without getting a headache. Where is Lauria?”
“Penelopeia,” I blurted out, then bit my lip and shook my head. “She’s a prisoner of the Sisterhood. That’s not exactly why I brought you here.”
Zivar sat down, smoothed her robes, and daintily poured herself a cup of tea. The cold fever, for the moment, was leashed. “By all means, Tamar, begin at the beginning and tell me why you sent for me.”
I took a deep breath, let it out, and began. “The Greeks gather their strength to move against the Alashi. They want karenite, which can still be found on the steppe. To distract them, I want to offer a supply of karenite to the Younger Sisters, on the condition that they make trouble for the Sisterhood.”
“Karenite. How much?”
“Lots. Here…” I dug in my pocket and took out the stone, pressing it into Zivar’s hand. “A gift, from the Alashi.”
She looked at it hungrily for a moment, then slipped it into a small pouch that rested under her robes, against her chest. “Do go on.”
“Well, to do this, we need to find the Younger Sisters. Can you tell me how?”
“That’s all you need from me?” She wet her lips. “I am not one of them. What’s in this for me?”
“Do you still want to come to the steppe? Because you probably want to find the Alashi there, not the Sisterhood.”
She shrugged. “I suppose.”
“And I just gave you a lovely gift. Suppose you give me some names.”
“Yes. I suppose I could do that.” She stood up. “In Daphnia—well, there’s Pelagia.”
“We know about her, and she’s melancholic right now, and not seeing anyone.”
“Yes, her melancholias are dark. Very dark. She should probably have given up binding years ago, but she takes pleasure in the craft itself, unfortunately. Let me think. There’s also Sophronia, Hypatia—though it might be difficult to get in to see her, she’s kind of important—and Eudoxia. Can you remember all of those?”
“Sophronia, Hypatia, Eudoxia. Yes.”
“Good. Surely one of those women will be in a good mood.”
There was a knock at the door. It was Alibek, a servant at his heels with our meal, and another servant behind that one with Zivar’s meal. Alibek sat down beside me and gave Zivar a quick look half-veiled by his eyelashes. We all fell silent as the nervous servants set down our food and fled. Just before the door swung shut, a young girl ran in with the basket of plums, set it down, and ran out again.
“Plums? Oh yes, I did ask for plums,” Zivar said, and picked one up to eat it. She sniffed disdainfully. “Who are you?” she asked Alibek. “I didn’t expect to find Tamar in the company of a male.”
“My name is Alibek,” he said, rising briefly and giving her a slight bow.
“Yes? And? Why are you traveling with Tamar? Even without the separate beds I’d know it’s not for your long eyelashes and your pretty cheekbones.”
Alibek shrugged. “We’re working together.” He shot me a cool glare, then looked down at his food.
“The Alashi sent us out together,” I said, since I’d told Zivar we were working on behalf of the Alashi. “We’ve both spent time living among the Greeks.”
“I see. Have a plum.” Zivar held out the basket. I took one. “Getting back to Lauria. How was she captured?”
Alibek choked on his lamb and took a sip of wine, his eyes watering.
“She tried to free someone who didn’t want to be free,” I said.
“And how is your alliance with the Younger Sisters going to help her?”
“What makes you think she is our priority?” Alibek asked.
“She might not be your priority but I’m sure she’s Tamar’s,” Zivar said.
I nodded, then shook my head, then shrugged. “Lauria is smart,” I said. “If she sees a chance, she’ll take it. I’m hoping that making trouble for the Sisterhood will give her the opening she needs. I can’t…” I paused and put down my plate. “It would take me months just to reach Penelopeia. Riding. I have no other way to get there, unless someone with powers I don’t have were to take me.” I didn’t dare ask for a ride. Zivar scared me. But that was the most obvious hint I could drop.
“Of course,” Zivar said. The basket of plums was still on her lap. She set it on the floor and stood up. “Don’t let those plums go to waste,” she said, and left.
A few minutes later the innkeeper knocked on our door. “Can you tell the sorceress that her room is ready? Do you know where she’s gone?”
I stood up and went down to the courtyard. Zivar was gone, along with her palanquin. I looked around wildly. “Zivar!” I shouted up at the dark sky. “Come back! Wait! Zivar!”
“I hate it when they do this,” the innkeeper muttered, and went inside.
“ZIVAR!” I shouted, no longer caring who heard me. “COME BACK!”
Alibek appeared at my side a moment later. “Stop shouting at the sky, she’s probably halfway to Penelopeia by now. Let’s go inside.”
“Why wouldn’t she have taken me along?”
“Because she knew you had work to finish here?”
“You could have done it. I could have given you the names!”
“She clearly didn’t think I was good for much. Maybe she didn’t think you were good for much, either—maybe she thought you’d get in her way.”
“Maybe,” I muttered. I kicked the basket of plums out of my way. It tipped over, and plums rolled everywhere. I cursed and started gathering them up again. Alibek squatted beside me.
“Take heart,” he said, putting the last few plums back in the basket. “Help is on its way to your sister. Even if it’s not you. Someone is going after her.”
“I wish that made me feel better,” I said.
Sophronia’s house was brick and sensible-looking. Unlike Zivar and most of the other sorceresses I had dealt with, she was married. Her husband stood idly in the corner of the sitting room. Sophronia sat, her hands folded, and waited for us to speak. I looked at Alibek. He looked at me.
I set a piece of karenite on the table between us—Alibek had visited Janiya again this morning. “We need help from the Younger Sisters,” I said. I set another piece on the table. “We can pay very, very well.” A t
hird piece. “Can you help us?”
Sophronia struggled to control her face. She dragged her gaze up from the karenite on the table. “Who are you?” she whispered.
“I speak for the Alashi,” I said. “The Sisterhood of Weavers threatens us. The Younger Sisters can stop them. We will give you karenite—as much as you need. More than you can use! If you will use it to overthrow the Sisterhood.”
Reluctantly, Sophronia said, “I can’t speak for the Younger Sisters.”
“But you are one of them.”
“Oh yes, I’m one of them.” She looked longingly at the karenite on the table, then glanced over at her husband. “I can take you to one of our leaders.”
“When? Now?”
“Tomorrow,” she said. “I would need until tomorrow.”
Sophronia wasn’t really that well connected, then. She didn’t know the leader, and could only pass a message up the line. Well, that was good enough. “Tomorrow, then,” I said and stood up. I left the karenite on the table to say we had so much we could waste it on people who hadn’t given us anything useful.
Alibek and I walked back to the inn. I hoped we could finish this tomorrow. Give our karenite to the Younger Sister and make our deal. Then Alibek and Janiya could go back to the Alashi and I could go to Penelopeia to help Lauria.
Kyros would come speak with me again. When should I tell him that the Younger Sisters were conspiring against him? Not yet, of course, but half the point of this alliance was to make the Greeks fight each other. If the Weavers realized that the Younger Sisters were a grave threat and turned their attention there…well, that would serve us, too. But not too soon.
I was thinking, and not paying attention to the streets around me. Alibek suddenly thrust me aside and drew his sword. We faced a dozen guards. Another six stood behind us.
“Drop your sword,” one told Alibek, who measured the odds for perhaps a heartbeat before laying down his weapon.
“You need to come with us,” the guard said, once he had us both in hand. “You’re to be taken to the Temple of Athena to discuss your theft.”
“Theft?” Alibek said, indignantly.
Karenite, I thought.
“Theft,” the guard said. “Of the property of Athena.”
CHAPTER TEN
LAURIA
I wasn’t able to fall back to sleep after my trip to the borderland; I lay awake, hungry. I knew I would have to eat that day, both because I was ravenous and because it would attract attention if I tried to fast. I finally gave up on getting to the borderland again that night and rose to sit by the window. The sky was clear, and I could see the stars overhead, but only the bright ones—morning was near.
Was that battle I saw real? Were the Alashi fleeing from the Greek army even as Penelopeia slept? Or had I invented it out of my own worst fears? I stared out at the morning star, bright against the violet sky. If it’s not real now, I think it will be real soon enough.
I felt sick—from the horror, not from a relapse of my illness. I can’t afford to think about this now. I am a prisoner and my own life is in danger. But when I closed my eyes, I saw the battle again.
It was a relief when a servant brought in my morning tea.
My mother arrived soon after. “Since you liked those plums so much, I had some made into a drink,” she said cheerfully, pouring me some from a silver pitcher. It was sweet and startlingly cold, flavored with mint.
“My appetite is back today anyway,” I said with a shrug. “In fact, I feel like I could eat a horse. Rare.”
“Lovely. I’ll send for one for lunch.”
Through the window, I heard a woman’s voice, shouting; it was a long way away, far enough that I couldn’t make out any words. My mother rose and drew the gauze over the window, which did nothing to shut out the sound. She sat down again and gave me an uncomfortable smile. She folded her hands; unfolded them. Then she stood up again. “Stay here,” she said, and opened the door.
She nearly collided with Xanthe. “Stay in here today,” Xanthe said, shortly. “Both of you. You’re not to go outside.”
The day passed slowly. I could feel the drug in me, slowing me down. Were they giving me more of it? Or was I just more aware of it because I knew it was there? My mother didn’t seem to be affected. She paced back and forth in the tiny room. It made me dizzy to watch her. What was it she knew that had her wound so tight? It wasn’t like her. I should try to think, try to reason out what it is. It might be important. Trying to reason out anything at all was difficult, though. Is it the melancholia? Is that why I’m so slow, so stupid? But somewhere deep under the surface I could feel the ice-flame agitation of the cold fever. It just didn’t seem to bother me. It was like being kicked through a pile of pillows. There was an urgency somewhere, but distant, barely nudging me. I ought to be bothered by the fact that this doesn’t bother me. But nothing seems to be bothering me. So I guess…I guess I’m not.
I dozed, in the afternoon. My dreams were disturbing, splashed with wet, red blood. We cut her heart out, I heard Lydia say. We burned the body. The gate closed. The gate closed. The gate closed.
When evening came, Xanthe brought in the meal. I had little appetite, and picked at my food. Xanthe hovered in the room, watching me; she never did that. “I’m just not hungry,” I said.
“You have to drink your wine, at least,” she said.
My mother’s breath caught, and she gave Xanthe a look of open horror.
“What’s going to happen if I don’t,” I said. It should have been a question, but my voice was utterly flat.
“Other guards will come, and we’ll make you drink it, if we have to.”
“That sounds unpleasant,” I said. I picked up the wine; it felt as if my hand wasn’t really my hand, but perhaps the hand of some intimate acquaintance. I took a sip. “How much?”
“All.”
I drained the cup. My mother must have carried me to bed, and I was claimed by black, endless darkness.
Come on. Wake up.”
“It’s no use. You should know it’s no use.”
“Wake up.” I heard a loud clapping sound, and felt my cheek go numb. It took a moment for me to realize that I’d been slapped. That whoever was slapping me had been slapping me, again and again, probably for a while. I struggled to open my eyes. A wave of water caught me in the face just as I got them open a crack, and left me sputtering but only marginally clearer-headed.
“Up.” It was my mother’s voice, in my ear. “Up.”
I was sitting up; then I was standing, dripping wet. My eyes were open, but the floor seemed to be tilted. Xanthe took my other hand and slung my arm over her shoulder. “You need to walk,” she said. “Come on. There’s no time to waste.”
“I can walk,” I said. My words ran together like syrup, and I tried again. “I. Can.”
“No words. Just come.”
I thought I glimpsed a guard as we emerged into the corridor, but she hastily turned away. Was it day or night? I wasn’t sure. I expected to head down some stairs, but instead we seemed to be heading up—up a spiral stair, which made me dizzy, then through an enclosed bridge to another tower. Then out a door, and we were on a balcony built of pure marble—it was cool against my bare feet. The sky overhead was that in-between blue of dawn twilight, with the eastern sky streaked with yellow. Day, but only barely. “Hurry,” Xanthe said, and I took a deep breath and tried to steady myself, to keep up with Xanthe and my mother. We ran across the courtyard—the two of them half-dragging me—and through another door, then down a narrow back staircase that was probably mostly used by servants. The stairs were rough and uneven, and I would have fallen without help. That stair led to a windowless room, stiflingly hot.
I tried to ask where we were going, but the words blurred together again. “Where,” I said, and paused. “What—”
“Just shut up,” Xanthe said. “Trust me.”
“Does Kyros—” my mother started.
“You need to shut up, to
o. Come on.”
My mother fell silent, a little daunted. I took a deep breath—my legs were a little steadier—and glanced around. I had no idea where we were; I’d seen little enough of the Koryphe anyway. I didn’t know whether Xanthe was taking us toward the edge, or deeper toward the heart. Xanthe took my face in her hands and scrutinized me for a moment. I wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but tried to look back at her; I saw two Xanthes, both of them too close. “Trust me,” she said again. I nodded, once—I could manage that much. She pulled my arm over her shoulder again, to help me, and we went out the door and along a shaded walkway.
We reached a corner that was partly screened by a large pillar. “Wait here,” Xanthe said, leaving us in the shadows. The sun was up, now, and it was already growing hot. I squinted at the courtyard. I was growing steadier; I thought I could probably walk on my own now, or at least with less help.
“Where is she taking us?” I asked my mother. My voice sounded thin and strained, but at least the words came out sounding like words.
“How should I know?”
“You seemed to have an understanding,” I said.
“She said come, and you grabbed my hand and followed.”
My mother glanced after Xanthe, then toward the courtyard. “They were planning to kill you this morning. That’s why you’re so unsteady right now, they gave you enough drugs to keep you quiet.”
“…this morning?” My thoughts were still slowed by the drugs; I rubbed my forehead with the heel of my hand. “Why now? After all these weeks—the pit—bringing you here—”
“New magia,” my mother said. “She gave the order as soon as she was in power.”
“Which one?”
“I don’t know. What, do you think I have tea with them daily?”
I swallowed hard. “Why is Xanthe helping us? Can we trust her?” It was tempting just to follow her, without question—I saw Janiya’s face when I looked at her, and it made me feel as if we had a bond. But she was Janiya’s daughter, not Janiya.
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