"And lest you suffer a loss for your kindness," Derian went on, "I could arrange for you to be paid for your trouble. I realize you do not wish to annoy a valued client—even if it may be to his advantage."
And especially since it would not be to your advantage at all. Who wants an associate bragging that they sold the beast you sold them, for a hefty profit? It's the type of thing that can rankle for years.
Poshtuvanu interjected smoothly. "I have some tokens here that can be redeemed for services at u-Bishinti. Medical care, divinations, a loan of skilled labor… "
The farmer's hesitancy vanished at once. Apparently, what Poshtuvanu offered was more valuable than mere money. If he wondered why u-Bishinti should offer to pay for information given to a foreigner, he probably thought it was because the disdum stood to make a hefty profit when trade with the northern lands became more common.
"I can check my records," the farmer said, accepting the three baked-clay tokens Poshtuvanu slipped into his hand. "Will you come inside? My wife was churning this morning, and her sweet butter is excellent. I believe we have berry muffins as well."
The repast they were given was much more extensive than mere bread and butter. Indeed, Derian had the impression that the farmer was due for a tongue-lashing from his wife about the importance of treating representatives from u-Bishinti with more courtesy than one gave the usual buyer.
Am I reading too much into his reluctance to talk to us? Derian thought. He did seem to clam up when Poshtuvanu mentioned Freshwater Pearl. No way of knowing—or even confirming suspicions—until we find out if Freshwater Pearl has indeed vanished or if she is happily eating her head off in some field somewhere. After all, this was not the only white mare Zira located. We've been disappointed already.
But confirmation that they were on the right track came as soon as the farmer brought out his records. The buyer's name matched one on the list compiled by Meiyal's clerk, that of a kidisdu specializing in water birds.
The excellent muffin went dry and hard in Derian's throat as he realized the difficulties that could arise if the farmer decided to try and buy back Freshwater Pearl so that he could be the one who profited.
"You won't tell your client we've been asking?" Derian said, balancing a friendly expression against a tone that said "I've been a horse trader since I could walk. I know the tricks and I won't think kindly if you try them on me."
"Of course he won't," snapped the farmer's wife. The manner in which she glowered at her husband made Derian think he'd guessed right about the man's character. "We understand you'll want a fair deal, and telling the kidisdu in advance that you're very eager to buy the horse might raise the price."
I should have thought of that, Derian thought ruefully, and of course the farmer would get a cut of the sale price.
He grinned at the farmer's wife.
"I'm sure you're honest folk, a credit to your deities. We'll burn incense for you in Heeranenahalm."
That seemed to make even the farmer happy, and when Poshtuvanu and Derian took their leave it was with wishes of good fortune all around.
Poshtuvanu waited until they were out on the road and well out of sight of the farmer's property before turning in his saddle to give Derian a triumphant grin.
"That's the one," he said. "I'd bet my best saddle on it."
"You won't find a taker here," Derian said with a laugh. "Tell me, is it common for a kidisdu to own his own horse?"
"Not one assigned to u-Seeheera as this one is—not unless he was already horse-crazy, and then it's quite likely we'd already know of his interest."
"Because he'd stable his horses with you?"
"That's right. Neither the Temple of Flyers nor the Temple of Sea Beasts maintain separate stables so close to u-Bishinti. It's easier to let us do the work."
Derian's momentary glee faded slightly as a thought occurred to him.
"He could have bought the horse as a gift for someone."
"Without coming to us first?" Poshtuvanu scoffed. "Oh, he wanted the mare as a gift, a gift to the deities, given in blood. If he just wanted to please a lover or someone in her family, he would have come to us."
The mention of love gifts brought heat to Derian's face. He'd been meaning to ask Poshtuvanu what was appropriate, but he didn't quite know how to go about it. Part of his problem was that he didn't quite know what the relationship between himself and Rahniseeta was.
Despite some interesting afternoons, they weren't lovers—at least not yet. He wasn't even sure if they were courting. What would his parents think if he brought home a foreign bride? He tried to imagine exotic and lovely Rahniseeta with her golden-brown skin and ink-black hair in the Carter family house. It wasn't easy.
Oddly enough, it was easier to imagine her at court. She'd look lovely in a flowing gown of New Kelvinese silk, her hair twisted up in some elaborate fashion and interwoven with gems or, maybe, pearls… No, gems. Nothing large and gaudy. Topazes, perhaps, or garnets. He didn't think he could afford rubies, though they would look fine, too.
He sighed and decided that for now he'd need to settle for flowers, probably wild ones gathered along the road, since he still went around rather short on pocket money and he'd feel the fool walking through u-Seeheera clutching a bouquet.
"Hey, Derian!"
Poshtuvanu leaned over in his saddle and poked Derian in the ribs. The action caused his deceptively understated bay to crowd Prahini and Derian found himself struggling to keep his seat.
"Why'd you do that?" Derian asked indignantly.
"I'd asked you three times if you thought it would be a good idea if one of us went straight to u-Bishinti and the other to Heeranenahalm. As it is, we won't be able to arrive at either place until evening, but I thought this might be important enough to report without delay."
"Sorry," Derian said. "I was thinking."
"About the importance of our news, no doubt," Poshtuvanu said with a twinkle in his eye that reminded Derian rather too much of Zira.
"That," Derian said, "certainly. Why don't I go to Heeranenahalm? I'm the one who's supposed to be interested in buying this horse, and the kidisdu the farmer mentioned is posted there. Do you think I'll find him at the Temple of Flyers or the Temple of Sea Beasts?"
"Flyers, probably," Poshtuvanu said. "You can ask someone to check a listing, though. The temples offer courtesy accommodations when the boundaries between types of animals aren't clear."
"I think I'd heard that," Derian said. "So, will you take u-Bishinti?"
"Most certainly," Poshtuvanu agreed, "and when you go to Heeranenahalm don't forget to tell Rahniseeta what we've learned."
This time his twinkle spread into a broad grin that Derian could not pretend to ignore.
"Is there anything wrong with my liking Rahniseeta?" he said, his own snappishness reminding him of the farmer's wife. He immediately softened. "I mean, Rahniseeta doesn't seem to mind, but I don't know if I'm doing anything wrong."
Poshtuvanu looked instantly serious.
"I don't think anything is wrong unless you're misleading Rahniseeta in some way. She doesn't exactly run screaming when you come into sight. However, if you've promised her something you can't give… or you have a wife at home or something… "
"No wife," Derian said promptly. "The girl I was walking out with a few years ago unceremoniously dumped me when Earl Kestrel assigned me to Firekeeper."
Derian had already explained something of how he'd come into his current position and responsibilities, so now Poshtuvanu nodded that he understood.
"How about Lady Blysse?" he said. "Does she have any claim on you?"
"Friendship," Derian said. "I'd do just about anything for her, but I don't love her like you should love a wife, and she certainly doesn't love me that way. I once thought she might be starting to, but I think I was wrong."
"Yet she was willing to let herself be taken prisoner rather than see you harmed," Poshtuvanu said.
"And I'd do the same for her," Deria
n replied. "I might even die if my death would assure her life, but I can't imagine marrying her."
Derian frowned.
"But we're talking about marriage awfully fast here. What constitutes a promise among you people? If holding hands and a bit of kissing… " Derian felt himself growing red but forged on determinedly, "If that constitutes a promise of marriage, then I'm in over my head."
Poshtuvanu's words were only somewhat reassuring.
"If a girl lets you close because she thought you were promising marriage—and could provide some proof… "
"Proof?"
"Like an expensive gift or taking her to some function where you'd normally only escort a member of your family—a religious ceremony, for example."
Derian sagged a little in relief.
"Go on."
"Anyhow, if Rahniseeta could give proof that you led her on, then you might be in trouble. Her brother, as her closest family member, could extract some penalty from you—even force a marriage if she were carrying a child. Otherwise, it's fair game, and the only thing on the line are broken hearts."
"I'd hate to hurt Rahniseeta even that way," Derian admitted, "but it's a big jump from a bit of playing around in the woods to bringing home a bride."
"I understand," Poshtuvanu said. "The important thing is making sure that Rahniseeta understands, too."
How are you doing with Waln Endbrook?" asked Dantarahma.
"Very well," replied Shivadtmon, with an almost piratical grin. "I have him, and have him convinced he has me."
"Good. The time has come to let our bird fly."
Shivadtmon's grin lost some of its boldness.
"So soon?"
"Rather," Dantarahma replied, "let us pray we are not too late. Moreover, the chief reason for my wishing for you to delay him is taken care of. Report has come to me that Lady Blysse has returned from Misheemnekuru to the mainland."
"Two days ago," Shivadtmon agreed, "and seasick all the way, or so I heard it from the captain of the vessel that carried her back."
"Have you also heard where Lady Blysse went earlier this very day?"
"No, Master."
"She went to the House of Fire where Tiridanti has for several days been acting very strangely."
Dantarahma knew something of the reasons behind Tiridanti's strange behavior, but he judged it best that Shivadtmon not know all. Best the aridisdu run swiftly, if in ignorance, to do his master's bidding.
Fear, quickly concealed, now lit Shivadtmon's eyes as a banked ember still holds the potential for fire.
"But why would Lady Blysse go there? For what reason?"
Dantarahma decided to blow gently on the coals of Shivadtmon's fear.
"All I know is that during the afternoon rest time, one of our congregation saw Lady Blysse and the wolf, Blind Seer, moving swiftly down one of the side streets toward the House of Fire. They were not precisely sneaking, but they did not go to the main door. Instead they went to a side door and let themselves in. I have asked some judicious questions. Earlier today Tiridanti left u-Nahal and returned to the House of Fire. Since then, she has been alone in the gardens but for the jaguar, Truth."
Shivadtmon looked as if he would give anything he owned to have reassurance that Lady Blysse's business had not been with the ahmyndisdu, but Dantarahma was not going to grant him that. He needed Shivadtmon tense and ready to act.
"Do you know who had been the ahmyndisdu's previous caller?" Dantarahma asked. He went on without waiting for Shivadtmon to essay a reply: "Rahniseeta, sister of Harjeedian, the same Rahniseeta who has been keeping company of late with the human who is quite probably Lady Blysse's closest friend. Although most callers have been asked to leave Tiridanti to her prayers, Rahniseeta remained a long while. I do not know for certain if she was admitted to Tiridanti's presence, but it is a likelihood."
Shivadtmon looked very nervous now, and for good reason. Although Dantarahma had convinced most of his followers that their private worship was neither immoral or illegal, those like Shivadtmon were well aware that to most of their fellows the return of blood sacrifice was anathema. It was easy to justify oneself in the company of like-minded individuals, much harder when it seemed the secret might get out.
Dantarahma decided that he had wound Shivadtmon about as tightly as was profitable. Any tighter and the string would snap and be useless. When Shivadtmon seemed about to voice a question, Dantarahma interrupted him.
"We have no time for questions, my son, not if you are to sail tonight."
"Tonight?" Shivadtmon's voice broke.
"Certainly." Dantarahma reached out with a fatherly hand and patted the aridisdu's shoulder. "Haven't you been complaining that you've been having trouble holding the northern sailors back? Go now and be confident that in serving me you serve divine Water and all his family. Go now and the deities go with you."
Shivadtmon bowed low and left. Dantarahma made a mental note to check with the agent he had watching Waln Endbrook and his comrades as to how long it took the aridisdu to arrive. Although Dantarahma had commanded Shivadtmon to arrange for the Endbrook group to leave tonight, he would settle for any time in the next several days. The important thing was that they leave before the debate could resume in force as to whether to send the northerners back with apologies or to keep them.
Dantarahma had no desire to keep the foreigners overlong in Liglim, but before he was rid of them, he had several uses for them. Shivadtmon was aware of only one of these uses—to discredit Tiridanti by having the northerners who had arrived here under her aegis do something outrageous.
Whimsically, Dantarahma thought of this as committing sacrilege by proxy. In the general air of outrage that would certainly follow the invasion of Misheemnekuru by the northerners, Dantarahma should find it easy to increase desire for isolationism and religious reform among the Liglimom. From there, reintroducing traditional religious practices should be much easier.
However, Dantarahma had other reasons for wanting Misheemnekuru in particular to be the target of this invasion. Some years after he had first felt the caress of divine magic touch his soul during a sacrifice, he had also become aware of entities somehow sensitive to those magical emanations. Their outcry of astonishment had been so loud that he had immediately ceased what he was doing—rather shocking his congregation.
Research into many an old tome, and patient practice of the rites recorded within, had taught Dantarahma two very important techniques. First, he had learned how to conceal those emanations so that he was fairly certain that he had gone undetected for many years now. He rather fancied that whoever the listeners had been—and he was certain there had been more than one—they had by now decided either that they had erred or that the magical surge they had "heard" had been a random event, perhaps connected to some item left by the Liglimom's former rulers.
The second thing Dantarahma had learned had been a refined form of augury. This enabled him to narrow down the possible location of the listeners, and test after test had pinpointed the central reaches of Misheemnekuru. The procedure had raised him in the estimation of the disdu, who hailed him as one who would reform the church by introducing new ways of divining the will of the deities. As Dantarahma's greatest desire was to bring the church back to its earliest roots, he found this extremely ironic.
However, whatever the reasons behind his skills, Dantarahma knew himself to be one of the greatest augurers to grace Heeranenahalm since the days of the Old Country rulers. Soon he hoped to also be acknowledged as the first sorcerer to grace these shores since the last vestiges of Old Country magic had vanished from the land.
Yes, thought Dantarahma after the departing Shivadtmon. Go with the deities, and, if I am lucky, go to them as well.
After leaving Tiridanti, Rahniseeta went back to the Hall of Scribes, but she had trouble concentrating on the intricate calligraphy she had been working on. After spoiling a perfectly good page two fingers' breadth from the bottom she set her work aside.
; "Water and Earth clearly do not favor my completing this today," she said to the disdu in charge. "Best I set aside my quill."
"Best," the disdu agreed rather sourly, looking at the spoiled sheet. "The omens are against your success."
Returning to the Temple of the Cold Bloods, Rahniseeta resolved to take the rest she'd missed by waiting on Tiridanti. She had thought she'd been too anxious to sleep, but almost as soon has she'd stripped off her outwear and given herself over to the coolness of her sheets, she was asleep.
She awoke to find the early edge of dusk visible outside of the window and a delicious coolness in the air that suggested that Water had granted his mother respite from the heat in the form of rain. Rising and dressing in clean blouse and trousers, Rahniseeta felt rejuvenated, and went out into the center room she shared with Harjeedian feeling lighthearted, temporarily relieved of the responsibilities that had weighted her down for so many days.
How the divine elements must laugh at human antics and ambitions, she thought. Not long ago I was bemoaning being nothing but Harjeedian's useful sister. Now that I have been given responsibilities because there were those who saw my worth, I am relieved to have a respite.
Harjeedian had, as was his custom, left her a note indicating that he would be gone through the dinner hour. Rahniseeta decided that she would dine in the public area rather than bring a tray back to her room. It would be nice to see some of the friends she had been forced to neglect of late.
She was just finishing a dish of spiced rice noodles garnished with thin slices of marinated saltwater bass when one of the porter's messengers came up to her. He waited politely until Rahniseeta's dinner companion—a kidisdu who specialized in incubation—finished the anecdote she was telling, then said politely:
"Knowing that you were in, the porter thought you would like to be informed that one of the northerners—the clumsy one—has come to visit Barnet Lobster."
Rahniseeta swallowed a sigh. She'd been enjoying her respite, but all her companions knew the pull of duty.
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