by Dave Duncan
“Amen,” Eleal said.
The sculptor bowed his head to the floor and said, “Amen” loudly as he straightened again. Then he clambered to his feet to indicate that the ceremony was over.
Ambria Impresario had been known to complain more than once that the gods had given Eleal Singer exceptionally sharp ears. She knew that Kollwin Sculptor had whispered a few other words—quickly, softly—in that sudden genuflection. “Lord, remember he is very young!” She had heard. Gim almost certainly had not. Had the god?
Act III
Road Show
31
“SO I HAD VISITORS,” T’LIN DRAGONTRADER SAID. “A very lovely lady named Uthiam Piper came to see me, with a distraught young man named Something Trumpeter. They both seemed to know my business better than I did. How was I ever going to get any work done in Narsh if people kept cornering me to pour out tragic sagas of young women adopted by a goddess?”
His tone was amused. His expression was not. There was tension in that cozy kitchen. Dragontrader had refused to visit the family shrine. That was a very unusual act, which might be taken as a serious insult. The fact that the sanctuary was more than that—was the center of a mystery—might help a little, or perhaps it made things even worse, for he had probably declined a very rare honor.
Eleal was no stranger to late hours and odd sleep patterns, but this was the middle of the night. The soup had been hot and delicious. Embiliina had insisted on tucking her into her chair with loads of blankets. She was feeling woozy.
“What did they think I could do against a goddess?” T’lin said, rolling his green eyes. “Did they think I was crazy?” He was very large. Although he sprawled at ease, legs and arms spread, his size and beard and black turban were daunting in that kitchen. His sword lay within reach. “They did not even know where missy was. I threw them out, and they went away on the mammoths.”
Kollwin Sculptor had stripped down to a threadbare, well-washed yellow cotton smock and battered old leather leggings. He sat hunched forward on his chair, leaning meaty forearms on his knees, mostly scowling at the range but sometimes at the dragon trader. His arms and his feet were bare. Such informality was surprising and perhaps deliberate. Although he could not match T’lin for sheer bulk, he was a broad, thick man, and he was showing he was not intimidated by his visitor.
Two enormous green eyes kept watch through the window. Dragons looked ferocious, but they were pretty harmless usually.
Gim was still so jittery with excitement that he could barely sit still. His mother kept telling him to stop fidgeting. He, too, had stripped off his fleeces, losing half of himself in the process. In cotton smock and woolen leggings, he was all long limbs and grin. His resemblance to the god in the crypt was astonishing, but his bare arms showed that he needed to fill out yet; the divine artist needed a few more years to produce a perfect replica of the model.
Eleal wondered sleepily what his trade was. His hand had been smooth and he lacked his father’s brawn, so he was probably not a sculptor, and yet he retained the family name. He was certainly old enough to be apprenticed to something, though.
“The next morning I had two more visitors,” T’lin said, “and those two they told me a god wanted me to get involved! How, I asked them, is a man ever going to earn a living in this city?”
Gim grinned and ran a hand through his golden curls. Yes, he was even more handsome than Golfren Piper and he would make Klip Trumpeter look like a gargoyle. Eleal wondered sleepily if he had any talent for acting. Even now he would be a natural as the Youth in the tragedies! She must offer to give him lessons. That idea was amusing, except he seemed to have forgotten her altogether. He would be regarding her as a mere child, of course. She would have to demonstrate her maturity.
What more could she do to impress him than climb down a wall in the dark on a rope?
“Madness!” T’lin grumbled. “They wanted to borrow my favorite dragon for a kid who didn’t know Whilth from Chaiz!”
“What persuaded you?” Embiliina Sculptor asked quietly. She was the only one of the group who seemed at ease, playing the role of hostess beautifully, passing around homemade biscuits. There was no hint of worry in her eyes.
Had Eleal’s mother been as pretty as she? She had never had a chance to be motherly.
T’lin grunted. “I needed peace and quiet to earn a living. Besides, I was sure the brat would break his neck and I could trust Starlight to come home to me.”
Gim grinned again.
“Why didn’t you ride him yourself?” Eleal asked.
T’lin’s green eyes registered horror. “Me? I’m much too heavy for escapades like that. Obviously Holy Tion had chosen a racing jockey for the task. To be honest,” he admitted ruefully, “and you know I am always honest, Jewel of the Arts, I did not expect such success. I thought it was suicide.”
Gim chuckled with delight.
“What if the temple guards had caught him, though?”
T’lin stroked his copper beard complacently. “Then I would have denounced him as a thief to get my dragon back.”
Gim’s jaw dropped.
A sour smile crossed his father’s face. “You hadn’t thought of that? You’d have been hanged!”
“But it worked,” T’lin said in disgust. He fixed his cold green gaze on Eleal, and she started at his frown. “I came here to trade dragons and I have earned the enmity of the senior divinity of the city! I must leave quickly and never return.” He gripped the arms of his chair with his big hands. “The priests and guards will be scouring the streets already. Well, you have her, Sculptor. I have done my part. I must go!”
For a moment Eleal toyed with the idea of staying in this cozy family kitchen forever—forsaking drama and travel…becoming one of this kindly family…. It did have a certain appeal in her present condition, but she knew that it was not going to happen.
“Not so fast,” Kollwin growled, eyeing her. “Now we need to know why! Why did Eltiana want this girl so badly? Why has Kirb’l Tion snatched her away? And what on earth are we supposed to do with her now she is here? Explain, Singer!”
“My part is done,” T’lin repeated, but he settled back in his chair to listen.
Four sets of eyes were waiting, five counting the dragon’s, although he was having trouble because he kept steaming up the window. Two sets of blue, two green, one black…
Eleal swallowed a yawn. She decided she must tell the tale with the majesty it deserved, although it needed Piol Poet to do it justice. She would have to stick to prose. She threw off the blankets and sat up like the Mother on the Rainbow Throne in The Judgment of Apharos.
“Are you feeling all right, dear?” Embiliina asked anxiously.
“Quite all right, thank you. Dost any of you mort…do any of you know what the Filoby Testament is?”
T’lin and Kollwin said, “Yes,” as Gim shook his head.
“Book of prophecies,” his father explained. “About eighty years ago some priestess over in Suss went out of her mind and began spouting prophecies. The others wrote them down. Her family had it printed up as memorial. What about it?”
T’lin uttered his dragon snort. Eleal knew she could never guess what he was thinking, and yet somehow she felt sure that he was surprised by this mention of the Testament. He seemed displeased, and certainly wary.
“Most prophecy is so thin you could drink it,” he growled. “Quite a lot of the Filoby stuff turned out to be hard fact—so I’ve heard. What about it?”
“It is prophesied therein,” Eleal declared mysteriously, “that should I happenstance attend the festival of Tion in Suss this year, then the world may be changed.”
There was a thoughtful silence. The range crackled. Starlight’s green eyes blinked at the window.
“Does she often behave like this?” Gim asked.
“No,” T’lin said, staring hard. �
��She’s putting on airs, but she’s telling the truth as she knows it. Carry on, Avatar of Astina.”
“The oracle proclaimed me a child of Ken’th.”
“Yecch!” T’lin’s red beard twisted in an expression of disgust.
“It’s not my fault!” Eleal protested,
“No. Nor your mother’s either. Can you confirm that, Kollwin Sculptor?”
“I was told that the oracle implied it. The Lady is always enraged when her lord philanders with mortals.”
Embiliina said, “Oh dear!” and patted Eleal’s hand. “It doesn’t matter, dear.”
Eleal recalled Ambria in The Judgment of Apharos again. “Peradventure, it may. Both the Lady and the Man decreed that I must not be allowed to fulfill the prophecy.”
“Eltiana yes,” T’lin said. “How do you know about Karzon?”
Eleal drew a deep breath.
“A reaper told me.”
Gim sniggered. He looked at his father…at the dragon trader…at his mother. His eyes widened.
“Go on,” T’lin said, his eyes cold marble.
Eleal told the story carefully, leaving out Dolm’s name. She described him only as “a man I know.”
It was a very satisfying performance. When she had finished, Embiliina seemed ready to weep, Gim’s eyes were as big as Starlight’s, and the two men were staring hard at each other. Dragontrader chewed at his copper mustache. Sculptor had clasped his great hands and was cracking knuckles.
“By the four moons!” T’lin growled. “Your god is the Joker!”
“He is,” Kollwin said stubbornly, “but he is my god. We are supposed to get her to the festival, I think.”
“That would be my interpretation.”
Eleal protested. “I’m not sure I want—”
“You have no choice, girl!”
“Apparently not,” the dragon trader agreed.
“Is it possible?”
T’lin did not answer that. He clawed at his beard with one hand, staring morosely at the range. “We seem to have been sucked into a serious squabble in the Pentatheon! I did not tell you of my first visitor—a doddering old crone trailing an unsheathed sword.”
The others waited in silence. Embiliina moved her lips in prayer.
“A blue nun, of course,” T’lin continued. “Of all the lunatic regiments of fanatics that harass honest workingmen…It was barely dawn and I had a hangover. I listened with a patience and politeness that will assuredly let my soul twinkle in the heavens for all Eternity. Then I sent her away!” He clenched a red-hairy fist. “I thought she was senile. I should have known better, I suppose.”
Kollwin raised heavy black brows, pondering in his deliberate fashion. “She came before the oracle spoke?”
“Before the holy hag could have scampered down there from the temple, at any rate. She babbled about Eleal Singer being in trouble. I pretended I did not know who she was talking about. She smiled as if I was an idiot child, then tottered away, saying she would return. I told my men I would flatten every one of them if she ever got near me again.”
“Who are these blue nuns?” Gim asked, worried.
“Followers of the goddess of repentance,” said his father. “A strange order, rarely seen in these parts. Harmless pests.”
T’lin shook his head. “But the stories…When Padsdon Dictator ruled in Lappin—him they called the Cruel—one day he was haranguing the citizens from a balcony and a sister in the crowd pointed her sword up at him and began calling on him to repent. Padsdon’s guards could not reach her, and he either could not or would not depart. Before she had finished, he leaped from the balcony and died!”
Kollwin shrugged dismissively. “You believe that?”
“I do,” T’lin said with a scowl. “My father was there.”
In the ensuing silence, the range uttered a few thoughtful clicking sounds.
“So the Maiden is on Eleal’s side—the Youth’s side,” Embiliina Sculptor said softly, blue eyes filled with concern now. “What of the Source? Have we any word of the All-Knowing?”
Her husband shook his head. “If the Light has judged, the others would not be still at odds.”
“That is obvious!” Eleal declared. “Tragedies always end with the Parent deciding the issue. It’s not time for Visek yet.”
Gim grinned, but no one argued.
“You must take the girl to Sussland, T’lin Dragontrader,” the sculptor said heavily.
The big man groaned. “Why me?”
“Who else? The priests will be scouring the city already. The Lady…” Kollwin shrugged, looking thoughtfully at his son. “It is possible?”
“Normally I would say it was,” T’lin growled. “Normally I would say I could run over to Filoby and be back before dark. But Susswall is treacherous at the best of times. How will it be now, with the Lady of Snows enraged and bent to stop us? May colic rot my guts! And when I arrive I may find armies of reapers waiting for me!”
Eleal had already thought of that complication—how could she return to the troupe when Dolm was there?
Gim was wilting under his father’s stare.
The sculptor cracked his knuckles again. “I shouldn’t ask this. Don’t answer if you don’t want—”
Gim relaxed and smirked. “No I didn’t.”
“Didn’t do what?” his mother demanded.
Kollwin laughed and clapped his son’s knee. “When he took his vows last night…the night before last I suppose it is now…When he prayed to Tion, he was going to ask to go to the festival. Right, lad?”
Gim nodded wistfully, looking much more like a child than a romantic hero of damsel-rescuing prowess. “I thought about it, but you asked me not to. So I didn’t.”
Now approval shone in his father’s smile. “I noticed you didn’t actually promise! I was sure you wouldn’t be able to resist the opportunity. I’m proud that you did. But the holy one knew how much you want to go. He has overruled us.”
Gim’s grin returned instantly. “You mean I get to go?”
“You have to go, son! You were the one who profaned the Lady’s temple. Her priests will blunt their knives on your hide if they catch you. It is your reward, I suppose. You will do this for us, Dragontrader?”
“It won’t take much more avalanche to bury three of us than two,” T’lin agreed morosely.
Kollwin uttered a snort that would not have shamed the dragon trader. “Four! You think the blue sister has gone back to her nunnery?”
T’lin threw back his head and howled, but whether from rage or merriment Eleal could not tell. Starlight’s answering belch rattled the casement.
“Oh that does it!” the big man said, heaving to his feet. “That’ll waken half the city. That’ll fetch every priest in the Lady’s temple!”
Eleal stood up, but he frowned at her.
“I can’t take you! Every lizard in the streets is going to be stopped and questioned. Can you dress this troublesome wench to look like a boy, Embiliina Sculptor?”
Gim’s mother looked Eleal over and pursed her lips. “I think we have some old castoffs that will fit.”
“Excellent!” T’lin turned a thoughtful gaze on Gim. “Never knew a city without a lovers’ gate.”
“I know a way over the wall, sir,” the boy said.
T’lin nodded. “Have you a trade yet, stripling?”
Gim smiled nervously. “I am apprenticed to my uncle, Golthog Painter. I play the lyre, but…”
“As of now you’re Gim Wrangler!” Dragontrader pulled a face. “Remember I hired you in Lappin last Neckday and I pay you one crescent a fortnight.” He grinned. “But I may make it two. I don’t usually pay that for greenies, understand, but you made a good start on impressing me tonight. Bring the girl down to my outfit as soon as she’s ready. You’ll impress me a lot more if you m
ake it.”
“Very generous of you, sir!” Gim straightened his shoulders. “The god will guard us.”
“He’ll have to.” T’lin on his feet could not have dominated the kitchen more effectively had he been one of his dragons. He swung around to the sculptor. “What of you and your lovely wife? The priests will be after you also.”
Husband and wife exchanged glances. “Us and our other fledglings?” Kollwin said. “What sort of a family picnic are you planning to conduct over Narshwall, T’lin Dragontrader?” He shook his head. “We have friends who will help us offer penance to assuage the Lady’s wrath.”
T’lin did not argue—he had scowled at the mention of children. “Probably cost you a whole new temple.” He stooped to cup Eleal’s chin in his raspy hand. He tilted her face up and frowned at her menacingly. “Most women wait until they have tits. You have set the world on its ears already, minx!”
Eleal had been thinking the same, but she knew Ambria would not tolerate such vulgarity. She assumed her most disapproving expression. “Wait ’till you see what I’m going to do in Suss, Dragontrader,” she said.
32
A DOGCART STOOD UNDER THE GASLIGHTS. THE DRIVER jumped down and came trotting up the steps. He wore a sporty suit and a bowler hat, but no overcoat. He was scowling under a bristly hedge of eyebrows. He had a clipped, military-style mustache, and a clipped, military-style bark: “You brought him!”
“Aye!” Mr. Oldcastle chortled. All Edward could see of him was the crown of his hat and his Astrakhan collar. “I bring thee a doughty cockerel for thy flock—truly a recruit of sinew.”
“The devil you do! But I’m not at all sure I want him, don’t you know?”
“Well, thou hast him now. Present thyself by whatever name thou deemest most fitting.”
The man eyed Edward disapprovingly. “Name’s Creighton I knew your father.” He began to offer a hand, then realized that both of Edward’s were engaged. He was obviously an army man, very likely Army of India, for there was a faint lilt to his speech that such men sometimes picked up after years of commanding native troops.