Lovers and Beloveds

by MeiLin Miranda

  "Someone with so much potential power and skill, more than my own--ah! Holy Ones." Anda stood and bowed as Issak and Allis entered; Temmin remained fixed to the couch.

  Issak put his fingers under Anda's chin. "Have you been teasing him, Anda?"

  "Oh, yes, Holy One!" she answered.

  Issak pronounced her a baggage and kissed her, then gave Temmin a questioning look. "Your Highness?"

  "What's wrong, Temmin?" said Allis. "Anda, you may leave us."

  "I've tried to jolly him up," said Anda as she departed, "but he won't be jollied."

  The door closed. Temmin said, "I know about you."

  Allis took Issak's hand. "Know what about us?"

  "...That you come from Ouve. That... My father said some things about you, told me things about you I'm having a hard time believing or understanding."

  "Coming from Ouve isn't so bad, Temmin, despite its reputation. We're not so lazy as all that," said Issak, pulling his sister to sit next to him on the opposite couch.

  "No, no," said Temmin, studying his shoes. "He told me about...about your mother."

  "Our mother is dead," said Allis. Her voice pulled his eyes from the floor; she looked back at him, wide-eyed and tensed as if expecting a blow.

  "What about her?" said Issak in an even voice.

  "That she was a prostitute," Temmin forced out, dropping his eyes again. "That you were prostitutes."

  Neither twin spoke. It must be true, then. Temmin didn't trust himself to look up again, and had almost resolved to take his leave, when Issak said, "Yes, she was, and yes, we were. She died just before we turned ten. We were ten, Temmin. Do you understand what I'm saying? We were ten."

  "Maman worked for Mistress Polls, and owed her a great deal of money when she died. Mistress Polls made us work it off," murmured Allis.

  "Couldn't you have done something else there?" Temmin said to the floor. "Cleaned? Run errands? Washed dishes?"

  "Don't you think we would have if we could have?" said Issak. "We were worth too much." Temmin looked up from beneath his golden brows to meet Issak's intense stare. "Do you know how much our virginities brought, Your Highness?"

  "Virginities?" he faltered. "But you were only ten, who would--"

  "A thousand gold apiece is what she sold them for," said Issak. "After that, clients had us both, or separately, or watched us together. You look a little ill, Your Highness. Didn't you know some men enjoy the company of children? How old do you think we were when this happened? We turn twenty-one this year."

  "I hadn't thought it through," he said miserably. "I just...it seemed so wrong, prostitutes as Embodiments, especially after everything some people have said about you... Why didn't you go to a Mother's House?"

  "Mistress Polls said a Mother's House wouldn't take us because we were the children of a whore--we were dirt, we couldn't even pray at a temple let alone live at one," said Allis.

  "She was lying, of course," continued Issak, "but we didn't know it. The House of Polls was all we'd ever known. We were born there. We'd still be there if Teacher hadn't rescued us."

  "How big was your mother's debt?"

  Issak glowered. "We paid it ten times over, in just three spokes. Polls always works the accounts in her favor. No one who's worked for her has ever balanced an account. Her people are no better than slaves, but that's how it is in some houses. Maybe most."

  "The House isn't there any more, though," said Allis in a far-away voice. "Teacher says it burned to the ground. I wish I'd set the fire myself."

  "But it's illegal, using children like that, isn't it?" said Temmin.

  Issak gave an uncharacteristic, barking laugh. "Why do you think she charged so much? You can buy anything if you have money, Temmin. Anything."

  "Teacher bought us, I suppose you could say," said Allis, returning her attention to the room. "He settled our debt with Polls, and brought us here."

  "I'm glad he did, it must've been awful," said Temmin, his blue eyes filling with tears. "Awful. Merciful Amma, I can't think about how awful! I'm so sorry. My father made me so angry, I just--I didn't think it through. He kept saying you were prostitutes, and he kept talking about how beautiful you were naked, Allis. That's also true, isn't it? You've had sex with my father."

  "He's the King," she answered. "It's our duty, both his and mine. Once a year. If he enjoyed himself, I'm glad, but it has nothing to do with anything other than duty. I've tried to tell you, Temmin, it's what Issak and I do."

  A sob escaped before Temmin collected himself. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I thought of you--of both of you--as mine. Not mine like you belonged to me, or anything," he amended, waving his hand. "But like this was special. It wasn't something my parents were giving me, or anything--it was mine. My choice. It's my choice, not his!"

  Issak rose, Allis close behind him, and they sat next to Temmin, one on each side. "It's still your choice," said Issak. "You can choose to come here or not, it's no one else's decision but yours."

  "Don't make it now," said Allis, taking his hand. "Go home. Think a little longer. Pray--I wish you'd pray. You've been called, but it's up to you whether you answer. Now, don't cry, Tem, our past is past for us."

  "Why are you comforting me?" he asked through his tears.

  Issak put his arms around Temmin, and Allis crawled into his lap. "In this Temple, we comfort people," said Issak, touching his forehead to Temmin's, "and in the end, it comforts us."

  In Greenflower Street, Maleen Polls stood before an already-overloaded hackney. Workers loaded trunk after trunk on the carriage under her man Deck's eye, until the springs wheezed in protest and the coachman advised her to hire a second carriage. "I'm in a hurry," snapped Maleen. "I must be aboard the Crescent Moon as fast as I can, and if you take much longer I'll walk!"

  "Will you ever explain to me why you're leaving so hastily? You never showed the slightest inclination to sell, though I've asked you a thousand times," said the tall blonde woman standing beside her.

  "I am tired, and I've always wanted to see Sairland. I know I've left the House in good hands, Diria." Maleen caught curious eyes peeping from behind the windows' heavy curtains. Shouldn't she be sadder about leaving? No, not with the Strange Gentleman on her trail.

  "You haven't 'left' the House with me," huffed Diria. "I paid good money for it!"

  "You got a bargain, and you know it. Finally!" The workmen tightened the last strap, old Deck clambered painfully onto the driver's box beside the coachman, and she pulled herself into the carriage, too hurried to accept a hand up.

  "Goodbye, Maleen!" called Diria as the carriage rolled away.

  Maleen neither answered nor looked back, her mind focused on her getaway. She might have some time before the Strange Gentleman caught up with her, or even heard what she'd done, but she wasn't taking any chances. She wouldn't feel safe until she boarded the Crescent Moon. If the Strange Gentleman were the King's agent, as she could only suppose, once she left dry land he could not touch her.

  She cast her mind back to the trunks weighing down the carriage. One held clothes adequate for the journey and the sparest of wardrobes; she would bespeak new dresses and linen in Apecto. The other ten contained nothing but gold in small chests wrapped in clothes enough to muffle any sound--in all, fifty-thousand pieces. To be on the safe side, she'd sewed another thousand into the hems of all her traveling clothes; it made her dresses drape oddly, but she didn't care. If she landed at Apecto with nothing but the thousand, she could establish herself in a small house with two or three young ladies, perhaps a youth as well, and train them up to her standards. It wouldn't be as grand as the ten trunks full, but she'd be alive.

  At the docks, hired men hoisted the trunks down from the carriage, its springs groaning in relief; the men continued onto the Crescent Moon and piled all but the one holding her clothes in a heap before the gangway. Deck went aboard to see to their stowing. Until then, the trunks blocked her way; she couldn't come aboard.

  Maleen stood on the har
bor's high rock wall, watching the loading and fidgeting. She sat atop the trunk, amusing herself with her reflection in its shiny new brass fittings.

  A mist rose up through its bright lock.

  Maleen bounced off the chest in alarm. How could it be on fire?

  The mist formed into something like water; she put her hand over her heart in sudden dread, and turned to run for the ship. Unseen hands clamped around her. "Hello, Mistress Polls," said the cool voice she still heard in nightmares. The Strange Gentleman walked into her sight. "I thought you'd hold your tongue rather than see me again. I did promise to kill you, and promises are to be kept." The icy silver eyes scanned her as she stood gasping, the air around her head damp and heavy with her own breath. "The shorter hair suits you. Shall I light it on fire? Or shall I smother you?" The Strange Gentleman cast an appraising glance at her dress. "No. I shall be merciful. This will be faster."

  A gesture, and the invisible hands swept her over the harbor wall. The black, oily water closed over her head; she stared upward as she sank, arms stretched over her head reaching for the surface, the gold coins in her hem pulling her after them to the harbor's bottom. Her screams sent fat bubbles up through the foulness until her lungs contained nothing but water.

  Teacher watched until the last bubble popped, interrupted at the end when Deck ran down the gangplank to the harbor wall. He seemed to consider diving in after her, but in the end only wrung his bony hands. "Ai! Mistress!" Deck wailed, his thin chest heaving. He saw the figure dressed in black, and flinched away, making the Sign of Amma. "The Black Man! Ai, Mistress, what have you done!"

  "She has left you an independent man," said Teacher. "My friends say you were kind to them, and for their sake, I will not kill you. Keep her trunks, continue your voyage to Sairland, and never come back. When you land, give two of those trunks to Amma and two each to Nerr and Neya in return for your life. You never knew Maleen Polls, nor anyone else who lived in her house. Am I understood?"

  Deck stared. He nodded, turned and ran aboard the Crescent Moon, leaving Maleen's last trunk behind. Teacher kicked at it absently, then shined a brass corner with a handkerchief. If anyone saw the black figure swirl into a fluid mass and disappear, he never told a soul.

  Temmin stayed with Allis and Issak until late in the afternoon: long talks about their mother, and coming to the City under Teacher's protection; lunch with the irrepressible Anda; and kisses--only a few. Pressing past a kiss reminded him of the twins' past, and though they didn't speak of it, Temmin saw flickers of memory pass through their eyes.

  When they gave him their final kisses and saw him to the Temple's entrance, Temmin found Brother Mardus waiting, a Guard contingent ranged around him. Nervous petitioners picked their way up the steps under their stern eyes. "Your Highness," said Mardus.

  "Brother Mardus, I'm surprised to see you!"

  "You shouldn't be." The two men walked down the stairs; at the bottom stood Jebby, with Mardus's own horse. "Now, sir, you are going to get on that horse, and you're going to follow our lead. You will not break away, and you will do what I tell you when I tell you. Are we clear?"

  "Yes, of course, Brother Mardus. I just don't see what--"

  "When we are not in public, I will explain the obvious to you, sir," rumbled Mardus. "When His Majesty and I say you will not leave the grounds without an escort, we mean you will not leave the grounds without an escort. Bad enough you had to come here," he added.

  Mardus and Temmin mounted their horses. Guards blocked the Promenade in both directions, and the Temple's Own crossbowmen once again lined the rooftop. "All this?"

  "All this, sir, because you rode out undefended. Don't do it again," said Mardus.

  "I was on urgent business!"

  "As a priest of Farr I support your candidacy, sir, but nothing involving that Temple is urgent." Mardus tapped his heels into his horse's sides, sending them all into a trot; the ride passed in silence.

  Temmin found tea laid out on the little table by his study window, but no Jenks. He demolished the cakes and sandwiches, and pondered how best to apologize. Jenks must be deeply offended this time, and who could blame him? What possessed him to put Percy's dignity above Jenks? Jenks was worth a hundred thousand Fennowses.

  The man himself entered with the late post, and Temmin jumped up, rattling the teapot lid. "Jenks, I'm so sorry..." He trailed off at his man's grim face. "Oh, I've really done it this time, haven't I?"

  "Your Highness, you must learn to school your temper," said Jenks, depositing the post beside the now-askew teapot and picking up Temmin's discarded riding coat.

  "I know, I know," he moaned. "What is the matter with me! Was my temper ever this bad at home?"

  "No, sir."

  Jenks kept walking. After a moment's hesitation, Temmin followed him into the wardrobe, and found him brushing out the riding coat. "Will you forgive me?" Temmin persisted.

  "I would find it much easier if you would tell me why you're so upset. If I am going to be chewed on for something that has nothing to do with me, I deserve to know what it is."

  "Oh. It's...complicated."

  "Then best start now."

  Temmin laid it all out in an impassioned rush--an edited version of the Temple tour, his father's accusations and boasts, the twins' revelations, and Brother Mardus's anger and paradoxical support. "But it was what my father said--do you understand why this has been hard for me to talk to anyone about? And you especially!"

  Jenks had stopped tending to the coat and sat on the wardrobe bench, listening intently. "What do you intend to do, Temmin?" he said.

  "I'm taking Supplicancy. I think."

  "Is it because you're angry at your father? That's a terrible reason to take orders, even temporary orders."

  Temmin stopped. "...Maybe. I don't know. Allis says I should pray. I'm not used to praying--I mean, not proper prayer--and I don't want to go back into town to pray at the Temple. Not with a Guard detail, and Mardus pursing his lips on the front steps, and the Temple's Own following me around, and everyone staring at me."

  "The servants tell me the family has a chapel. It's at the foot of the Tower. I don't think it's used much now. It would be quite private. Perhaps you might pray there."

  Temmin took dinner in his room that night. Another meal under his father's withering eye curdled even his stomach, and the true story of the Obbys' past angered him enough to loosen his tongue past wisdom.

  After dinner, Jenks inquired discreetly as to the chapel's exact location. Despite serious doubts, Temmin took a bowl of ritual sweets and a bouquet of flowers, and wound his way through endless hallways and galleries until he found himself in the Keep's oldest part, called the Fortress. He'd walked this way when Teacher dragged him through a reflection into the Tower, though in the opposite direction. He recognized the stairway leading up and up to Teacher's library. To one side stood a set of wooden doors, covered with archaic carvings. He recognized the sigils of Temmin the Great on one door and Gethin the First on the other as he pushed through them into the chapel.

  Someone kept the windowless, ancient room within well-tended. Its style pointed to the Keep's founding a thousand years before; vaulted stone rose above tapestried walls to meet in graceful apexes. Eight altars had been carved from the bedrock, each with its God. Purple and gold seasonal draperies wreathed Pagg's niche, in honor of His spoke, Spring's Beginning. Candles flickered before all the altars, reflecting off the smooth, polished wood of the padded kneeling benches set in rows.

  Empty glass vases waited before Nerr's statue, a silver pitcher of fresh water beside them. He settled the flowers, and carefully stacked the pink and white candies at Neya's feet. He knelt on the bench nearest the Twins, and prayed. "Lord, Lady, I don't know what to do. Are You calling me, or is this just about wanting the Embodiments? Or being mad at my father? I want to do the right thing. I know I haven't been the most faithful person--no, actually, I've always believed, I just haven't gone through the forms perhaps as much as
I should. Just send me a sign. Let me know what I should do."

  Minutes ticked by. His knees hurt, and his eyes watered from staring at the candles. He sighed, and sank back on his heels. "I just want a sign, from either of You!"

  "Do you expect the statues to speak?" came a voice near the doors.

  "Gah!" Temmin leaped to his feet. "Why do you always have to sneak up on people!"

  "I do not 'sneak up on people,'" said Teacher. "Some people do not pay attention. What brings you here? I did not think prayer in your line."

  "It was Allis's idea," said Temmin, spreading his arms wide and dropping them to his sides. "I don't know what I expected. I hoped something would happen."

  "Are you giving up? How long have you been here?"

  "Oh, Gods, forever. Well--ten minutes." Temmin consulted his pocket watch. "Oh. Five. Five minutes."

  "Hm." Teacher walked up the aisle toward the altars. "Every Temple has its ecstatic practices. One tends to connect more directly with the Gods that way. Lovers dance themselves into a trance. Sisters deny themselves food and sleep. The Scholars of Eddin hang upside down, sometimes for days."

  "All of them?"

  "That kind of communion does not appeal to everyone."

  "I just don't know what I'm listening for."

  "You will not know until you hear it. Do you truly want an answer?"

  Temmin paused. "Yes. I want to make sure I do the right thing."

  "Then give it more time, Your Highness. If you cannot kneel, stand. If you cannot stand, pace. When you find your mind wandering, direct it back to listening. Do not force it. Just...listen. You may not get an answer, and you may not do the right thing anyway. But prayer will take you further than thought sometimes. I will leave you now."

  When Teacher left, Temmin resumed kneeling, but abandoned it for pacing. He always thought best when pacing; perhaps he prayed best when pacing. He took up a circuit around the chapel, doing his best to focus without straining. His mind flitted to Jebby; he returned it to listening. His father, Allis and Issak, Ibbit's polemics against men ever attaining any sort of spiritual life, Fennows, Sedra, Jenks, Ellika, his mother, the scenes in the petitioning rooms, Mattie, Anda, Fen--Alvo--all thoughts threatening to distract him. But he let them float away, sometimes, as with thoughts of Allis, with difficulty.