by Victor Poole
"Ossa," Ajalia said, "I need you ready to replace Sun at any time I choose. I do not think Sun will last."
"Her name's Sun," Delmar put in sardonically.
"Thank you, Delmar," Ajalia said. She saw that Delmar was growing impatient; she saw that he was nearly ready to cause a scene. "Ossa and Sun, think on marriage. I have men who need wives, and you are young and suitable, by virtue of your situation."
"What is my situation?" Ossa asked clearly. Ajalia looked straight at her.
"You are very poor," she said. Ossa nodded. "As far as I can see," she added, "you have little sense."
Ossa dipped her head humbly at these words. Ajalia felt a surge of approval. Perhaps, she thought, Ossa would work out. Ocher, she remembered, had been a little like Ossa, in the way that he had sat and listened to her talk. She reminded herself to find some way to meet with Ocher's current wife. She had heard nothing of this woman yet, of her age, situation, or personal qualities. There was some chance, Ajalia thought, that Ocher's wife would be amenable to adjustment. If she was, Ajalia would do what she could to keep the peace between Ocher and his wife, but if the woman proved to be resistant to change, or insane, Ajalia would think of something. She always thought of something, she told herself, and stood up.
"You didn't tell me what I was going to be," Clare said.
"You are my shadow," Ajalia said. "Lose some weight, and cut your hair to match mine." She caught a glimpse of Clare's eyes, grown wide with indignation and shock, before she passed the place where the thickset young woman stood with the other two girls. "Watch them," Ajalia called back to Daniel, "and tell me if there is trouble."
"I will," Daniel said at once. He hopped out of the chair, and ran out of the room to rejoin the other boys.
OCHER'S WARNING
"That is an excellent child," Ajalia told Delmar, and took him by the arm. He twisted his arm away from her, his face contorted with annoyance. She had meant to lead him out of the room, but his eyes were clouded with fury. "Young ladies," Ajalia said sharply, "go to bed." The three went slowly out of the room, and passed Delmar and Ajalia, their eyes turned curiously to the son of the Thief Lord.
"Did you think I wouldn't notice?" Delmar hissed, as soon as the three Slavithe girls were out of earshot. "I'm not stupid," he added angrily. "I know how the magic works." Ajalia blinked. This was not what she had expected him to fuss about. "You can't fool me like that," Delmar said.
"I don't understand," Ajalia said calmly. "It sounds as though you think I'm trying to trick you." Delmar stared at her, his eyes popping madly out of his head.
"Yes!" he said furiously.
"I'm not," she said.
"Yes, you are!" Delmar said, in the same indignant tone.
"No, I'm not," Ajalia said patiently. "I don't even know why you would think I could try. How in the world could anyone not notice a surge of magic passing into their hand?"
Delmar glared at her, breathing hard.
"I don't know," he said. "But I'm very upset," he added. "Why don't you warn me about these things?" he burst out.
"How? I don't know what's going to happen before it does," Ajalia said.
"You can't tell me," Delmar said, his voice beginning to rise, "that you are not planning out every step of this!" Ajalia blinked at him.
"Your parents are insane," she told him. "I'm not planning. I'm not planning anything."
Delmar began to pace up and down the room. His beard was growing in; a shadow of brown scruff spread now from his neck to his cheeks. Ajalia watched Delmar pace.
"Let's back up," she said.
"Okay," Delmar said, putting his hands through his hair. "Okay, so when we first met, the first time in the forest, did you follow me out there?" He looked up earnestly at Ajalia.
"Delmar," she said, her head spinning a little. "No," she said. A crest of indignation swelled in her breast. "You followed me," she said. "Come and sit down."
"No, I can't," Delmar muttered, going up and down, up and down. He stopped, and turned to look at her. "You left me out there," he accused her. "Out in the street, you left me there."
"Yes, I did," Ajalia said. "I was angry."
"But why did you leave me?" he demanded. His eyes were burning, and his face was contorted with a mixture of fear and annoyance. "I didn't like that," he threw in.
"I was angry," Ajalia said. "What you said made me very angry," she repeated. Delmar waved a hand at her, and resumed his walk up the side of the room.
"What did I say?" he asked. Ajalia looked at him. She could not tell if he was teasing her, or if he actually didn't remember.
"Don't you know what you said?" she asked. He stopped, and looked at her.
"Something about the three girls?" he guessed.
"No," Ajalia said. She felt anger rising up in her gut. "No," she said again.
"I said something about you?" he asked. Ajalia stared at him. She could not decide whether she should be angry or disturbed.
"Yes," she said. "Yes, you said something about me!" Delmar rubbed his hands along his thighs, and looked at her steadily. He blinked a few times. She saw his forehead crease.
"What did I say?" he asked.
"Do you really not remember at all?" she asked him. He kneaded his face with his fists.
"I think I could," he said, "if I really tried."
"Then try," she said. She watched him walk up and down the room, pushing his fingers deep against his temples. She could see his breath coming faster and faster; his arms began to jitter at his sides. She went in front of him, and he stopped, his fingers twisting idly against the rim of his clothes.
"I'm sorry," he said. His eyes looked panicked, and sad. "Please don't be angry," he said.
Ajalia reached out, and touched his face. He flinched away from her, and tried to keep pacing. She caught him by the arm, and pulled him to a halt. "I can't stop," he said, his eyes licking nervously away from her face.
"Come here," she said. He resisted her, but she pulled and pushed at him until he was sitting in one of the chairs. She put herself in his lap, and began to stroke his hair.
"No," he said, trying to stand up. She pushed him down. "Someone will see you," he said helplessly. Ajalia smoothed his temples, and planted a kiss on the top of his head. "I don't think I can say what it was that I said to you," he said. His voice was almost comically seeped with despair. If he had not looked so forlorn, and so terrified, Ajalia would have laughed. She wrapped her arms around his head and neck, and cradled him. She put her fingers through his hair, and laid her cheek against his face. "I don't want you to never speak to me again," Delmar whispered.
"I know," Ajalia said.
"And if I can't remember, then I'll do it again sometime, and then you'll never speak to me," Delmar said.
"Stop feeling sorry for yourself," Ajalia told him. "You'll be fine."
"No," Delmar said morosely. "I want to keep feeling sorry for myself." He smiled at her; she saw that he was holding back tears. "You like me better when I'm sad," he said.
"Do not," she retorted.
"Do too," he mumbled. She kissed him, and pulled him to his feet.
"Tell me about witches," she said, and led the way out of the room and towards the back patio, where the garbage pit and the compact stables lay. She stopped just outside the back doorway of the temple; she could just glimpse the fuzzy ears of Pudge within the open stall of the stables. Ajalia took Delmar by the hand.
"What do you want to know about witches for?" Delmar asked. He still sounded suspicious, but the horrified anxiety had passed mostly out of his voice.
"Well, tell me whatever you think of when I say witches," Ajalia suggested.
"They're bad," Delmar said. Ajalia turned, and walked with him through the darkened door into the back of the temple. His hand was warm and firm around her fingers; Ajalia sighed a little, and thought about kissing Delmar thoroughly. She had meant to kiss him to her heart's content out in the forest, many days ago, and had never gotten her
wish. She now felt a stirring of annoyance, and of desire. She wanted to kiss him thoroughly. They walked through the long, empty hall of the dragon temple.
"What's bad about them?" Ajalia asked.
"They do magic," Delmar said promptly. Ajalia glanced at him.
"You do magic," she pointed out.
"Oh, but I'm different," Delmar said easily. "Witches steal."
"What do they steal?" she asked. The moonlight was coming in ragged patches through the high windows of the hall, but she and Delmar were entirely in darkness. She was relying on her well-developed sense of possible danger to keep their relationship appropriately discreet; she knew the boys and girls within the house would see much, and suspect more, but as long as she gained their trust, and taught them to worship Delmar's powers, she thought she would be able to maintain the appearance of a relationship that would be approved in the social structure of Slavithe. She had learned in her master's house that misdirection and brutal honesty worked together well to conceal real love from the curious, and from those who gossiped.
When they came near the end of the darkness, where the temple opened out to the steps that led to the white stone street, Ajalia disentangled her hand. Delmar uttered a begrudging grumble, and Ajalia smiled. She went to the moonlit steps, and sat down. She was sure that the Thief Lord had posted a watch on the dragon temple, and she had a feeling that she would be visited before the night grew much older. She preferred to keep as much control over such an encounter as she could. She made sure to sit in the open stairs, where the moon fell straight on her features, and her body could be plainly seen. Delmar watched her for a moment, and then sat down against the balustrades.
"Are you waiting for someone?" he asked.
"Denai's gone somewhere with that woman," she observed.
"Who?" Delmar asked. Ajalia glanced at Delmar.
"What do witches steal?" she asked. Delmar's lips pursed up.
"You don't answer my questions," he said.
"You ask pointless questions, then," she told him. He breathed deep, and then sighed.
"Sometimes I don't think you like me," he told her.
"I like you," she said evenly. "What do witches steal?" Delmar looked out over the stretch of street that lay beyond the steps. A tree had been planted in a gap between the stones, just behind the building opposite, and its leaves cast black shapes of shadows all along the ground.
"Witches steal life," Delmar said. "That's why it's forbidden to marry servants, or—" Delmar broke off, and blushed.
"Or slaves," Ajalia finished. He nodded.
"The witches would steal, and they would marry wealthy men," Delmar said. "When their husbands died, they would steal away the lives of their daughters, and then marry again. Some of them lived for a very long time, and because they would change their faces, they couldn't be caught. No one knew which women were witches, and which were clean."
"Clean?" Ajalia asked.
"Pure," Delmar explained. He looked at her, and saw that she didn't understand. "Not thieves," he said. "So my mother's father, the last Thief Lord—"
"Your grandfather Tree?" Ajalia asked. Delmar nodded.
"He passed a law when he was very young, that no man or woman would marry without first owning themselves. It was meant to keep the witches from marrying again. My father killed the rest," Delmar said.
"Your father killed the witches?" Ajalia asked. She thought of the Thief Lord, and of his sharp eyes, and mobile face. She could not imagine him defeating such a crone as the old landlady had been, the witch covered with rags that she had killed.
"That's what everyone says," Delmar said. "My grandfather Tree forbade anyone to marry, and then my father became Thief Lord in his stead by marrying with Tree's daughter, and killing the witches."
"Your father was a slave," Ajalia said.
"Well, sort of," Delmar admitted. "He was punished by his father, the king of Talbos." Delmar stopped talking, and watched the shadows of the leaves. Ajalia waited. "You have to understand," Delmar said, "that it was very bad before then. After grandpa Tree made the edict, the witches went mad."
"Why?" Ajalia asked quickly. Delmar looked at her, and then looked away. He looked embarrassed.
"The way of marriage was corrupt," he said.
"How was it corrupt?" she asked. She had the distinct impression that Delmar was not telling her several things; she could see a kind of shadowy cunning flicker at the edges of his face. She knew, or guessed, that he was not nearly so scatterbrained and distraught as he seemed to be. She watched him lie to her, and she meditated on the future.
"Well," Delmar said, and she was sure that he was trying to change the subject, "now you have these Slavithe girls, and if they get married, they'll marry in the proper way." He looked at Ajalia, and she gazed calmly at him. He kept a straight face, and his eyes were earnest. Delmar, Ajalia reflected, was enormously good at lying.
"Can you cry on purpose?" she asked him. His face puckered a little, and then smoothed.
"No," he said.
"Liar," she told him. A long shadow detached from the black trunk of the tree, and approached. Ajalia watched the dark figure; she hoped it would be the Thief Lord, or an official with power. She had a terror of petty functionaries; their general stupidity, and love of their small station, made her feel like punching things.
Ocher's face came into the light, and Ajalia smiled.
"Hello," she said. Her voice was warm and friendly. Delmar frowned when he saw his father's man.
"What's he doing here?" Delmar whispered to Ajalia.
"I think you make Delmar feel uncomfortable," Ajalia told Ocher. "Do you know why he would feel that way?"
"I used to beat him when he was younger," Ocher said. "For being a dunce. He doesn't like me now." Ajalia nodded.
"Tell me about your wife," she said.
"Don't start a fight with me, young woman," Ocher said, but his mouth crinkled at the corners. "I've come to warn you."
"Warn me that the Thief Lord is coming?" Ajalia asked lightly, but a tingle of fear went down her spine.
"No," Ocher said, "the Thief Lord's wife. She's got an idea," Ocher said, his eyes twinkling in the direction of Delmar, who was partially obscured by the shadow of the balustrade, "that you're stealing her son."
"Charming," Ajalia said.
"You shouldn't talk about me as though I wasn't here," Delmar put in.
"Then you should stop acting like a spoiled child, and grow up," Ajalia said, glancing at him. Delmar's face turned white, and then purple. He stood up, and stamped away into the street. Ajalia watched him go. She told herself that she would not mind if he never came back. He vanished around the corner of the building opposite, and his footsteps faded quickly into the night.
"Ta da," Ajalia said wryly. "Now Delmar is gone."
Ocher sat down on the steps near Ajalia, uttering a weary groan. He put his elbows back on the stone steps, and looked up at the sky.
"Are you usually that hard on him?" he asked idly.
"No," Ajalia said. "Usually it's coddling and kisses on the cheek, but he's been temperamental today."
"The new clothes must be going to his head," Ocher said with a laugh. Ajalia looked at Ocher's thick beard, which concealed a grim smile.
"Why do you stay with the Thief Lord?" she asked. Ocher did not look at her. She thought that he was avoiding her eyes.
"You're a very uncomfortable person," he observed.
"Goodbye," she said pointedly. He looked over at her, and the smile had gone away. An expression of reaching, or of longing for something long lost, was in his eyes.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"You're not," she told him. "You're sorry that I don't lie."
"I'm sure you lie plenty," Ocher said easily, resettling himself on the steps. "Just not about old men like me."
"I don't lie about anyone," Ajalia told him.
"You lie about that young man," Ocher said at once, his eyes fixed on the direction De
lmar had gone.
"You don't know that," Ajalia said.
"He's in love with you," Ocher said. He sounded as though he were jealous.
"You're guessing, aren't you?" Ajalia asked him. Ocher laughed bitterly, and rubbed at his chin.
"I think he'd be a fool not to be," Ocher said.
"Why, because I'm loveable?" Ajalia retorted. Ocher looked at her, and Ajalia did not enjoy the kind of fire that sparked in his eyes. He was dangerous, she saw, because he had ambition, and a thwarted sense of grandeur. She told herself to mind Ocher, and she changed the place where he rested in her catalogue of thoughts. Ocher stared out at the street, and then sighed.
"They wanted to come and question you," Ocher said.
"About what?" Ajalia asked. She knew what about, but she wasn't going to offer up her knowledge.
"There's a witch dead," Ocher said. "They know she died, but they aren't sure where."
How, Ajalia asked herself, did they know a witch had died?
"Does your master keep a watch on all the doings in the city?" she asked lightly. Ocher glanced sharply at her. She knew he was pricked by her words, by the inference that he was in thrall to the Thief Lord, and she didn't care. He had been rude, and she was determined to punish him.
"You were nicer before," Ocher said carefully. Ajalia said nothing. "They wanted to send the guards."
"Who wanted to?" Ajalia asked. Ocher did not reply for a moment. "He's not much of a man, is he?" she asked, and the Thief Lord's man chuckled in spite of himself.
"You shouldn't say such things," Ocher told her.
"He shouldn't let his wife run the city," Ajalia said. Ocher looked at her.
"She's dangerous," he told her. Ajalia met his eyes steadily.
"Delmar told me you were dangerous," she said. Ocher smiled a little.
"Do you think I'm dangerous?" he asked her. She saw that he wanted her to like him. She looked away.
"Did you dissuade Delmar's mother from interrogating me?" she asked.
"No," Ocher said, sighing again, and sitting up. "She's coming to see you now."