by Jo Clayton
The double doors swung smoothly open and Vasshaka Bulan came stalking in, Todichi Yahzi gliding grayly behind him clutching a scarlet notebook. He touched Bulan’s arm (ignoring the man’s recoil and hiss of loathing), cooed him to the visitor’s chair, then went to the gray leather cushion waiting beside the desk, wriggled around until he was comfortable, settled the book in his lap and prepared to record everything said during the interview.
Maksim rumbled impatiently through the rituals of greeting, gave brusque permission for Vasshaka Bulan to say what was on his mind. “Brief and blunt,” he said, “unless you want to try my patience, Servant Bulan.”
“Phoros Pharmaga, I hear.” Bulan bowed his head. “I have a complaint about the Dicast Silthos a Melisto. He ordered a Servant taken from the Yron of Nopido, sat in judgment over him and ordered him stoned by the Nopidese. He had no right, Phoros. A Servant is judged by Amortis and the Kriorn of his Yron. None less can touch him. By your own word, this is Amortis’ land.”
“By my own word, Amortis judges her Servants in all except…” he leaned forward and slapped his hand on the desktop, making the wood boom, “EXCEPT for civil crimes. Rape is a civil crime. I have read the Di-cast’s report, Servant of Servants. This charming creature of yours raped an eight-year-old girl.”
Bulan lifted his hand. “A holy frenzy, Phoros, for which he is not responsible.”
Settsimaksimin forced himself to wait a moment before responding, hammering an iron calm over a fury that inclined him to send this snake back to Amortis as ash. He needed the wily old twister. especially now when he couldn’t afford a fuss that would divert his attention from the Drinker of Souls and what she could mean to him. He managed a cold smile. “Anarpa didn’t seem to share that notion. He murdered the girl and tried to conceal what he’d done.”
“A weak man is a weak man and a stupid one does not acquire wisdom at such a moment. It is for the Yron and the Kriorn to judge him.”
“By my word and by my law it is the people he injured who have that right. By my word and by my law and in the Covenant I made with Amortis. A covenant that you know word for word, Vasshaka Bulan, Servant of the Servants of Amortis.” He lifted his hand and laid it across his chest, the Stone warm and dangerous under his palm. “We have been patient with you, Faithful Servant, because we know you are devoted to She whom we both… serve. We will continue our patience and explain our decree. The Servant Anarpa took refuge within the Nopido Yron when his crime was reported which from our reading was almost immediately since there was a witness to the burial. The Dicast, as was most proper and courteous though not necessary under our law and covenant, sent to the Nopido Yron and asked that the Servant named Anarpa be given to the civil court for judgment. The Kriorn of the Yron refused to produce him.” Maksim felt his heart hurrying under the Stone and once again took time to calm himself. “That was neither proper nor courteous. Nor is it sanctioned by law or covenant. It is we, Vasshaka Bulan, who complain to you of such contumacious behavior. It is we, Vasshaka Bulan, who say to you, discipline your Servants or we will do it for you. And should you doubt our will or our ability to do so, we will ask Amortis to make it plain to you by punishing that Kriorn herself. We have explained to you what we intend to accomplish within the land; Amortis has given her sanction to these goals. Any Servant who cannot work with enthusiasm for our dream had best find another land to serve the Lady.” He watched Bulan’s face but not a muscle moved; the mild old eyes had no more feeling in them than a chunk of low grade coal.
“It is time, perhaps,” Bulan said slowly, as if he were considering with great care everything he said (though Maksim had no doubt the old twister had for-seen everything so far and plotted his speech accordingly, most of it anyway; with some pleasure Maksim remembered catching a slight tic in a cheek muscle when he, said Amortis would do the punishing of that idiot Kriorn, that knocked you off center, you old viper). “It is time, I say, that we who are not so wise as you, Phoros Pharmaga, should meet and draw up tables determining specifically who in what circumstances has responsibility for making and upholding what laws.”
Again Settsimaksimin examined the Servant’s face, there was no reading anything but mild earnestness in that disciplined mask he used to cover his bones. What are you up to? I wouldn’t trust you with the ink to write your initials. If you think you’re going to tighten your bony grip on My people… Hmm. Might not be a bad idea, though, keep him out of my hair when I haven’t got the time or energy to waste on him. “We will think on it,” he said gravely. “We are inclined to agree with you, Faithful Servant. Do this, draw up a list of scholars civil and servant whom you find capable of dealing with the complexities in such a plan and yourself, out of your vast wisdom, do you write for us the agenda you consider most suitable for such a group with such a purpose. Seven days for the list and agenda. Or do you need more?”
Vasshaka Bulan bowed his head in humble submission. “Seven days is sufficient, Phoros Pharmaga.”
After he was gone, Settsimaksimin shoved his chair back with such force the wood of the legs shrieked against the wood of the dais. He went charging about the room muttering to himself while Todichi Yahzi finished his notes. “Seven days. Sufficient. HAH! SEVEN MINUTES IS MORE LIKE. He’s been worming toward this for AHHH the gods know how long. I don’t see what he’s going to get out of it, Todich. He knows I’m going to read every miserable word of whatever comes out of that bunch of legal nitwits and anything I don’t understand or don’t like is DEAD, Todich. The names? How could I trust men he named for something like this? Even if I know they’re good men. He’s after something, Todich, WHY CAN’T I SEE IT?” He flung his arms ‘ out, dragged in a huge lungful of air.
“AAAHHhhhmm HAH! Hunh.” Abruptly brisk, he turned to Todichi Yahzi. “Write this: strataga Tapos a Parost and his prime captain; guildmaster Syloa h’Arpagy; kephadicast Oggisol a Surphax and the three judges he talked to me about, I’ve forgotten their names but he’ll remember; harbormaster Kathex h’Apydaro; peasant Voice, Hrous t’Thelo. Got those? Good. Write me out a note to the chief Herald Brux so I can sign it. Say send your best and fastest heralds, men you know can keep their mouths shut, to the folk on that list and tell them to meet with… hmm, better be formal about it, I suppose… the Phoros Pharmaga Settsimaksimin three days on, in the Citadel. This next is for you, Todich, put them in the Star Cabinet down on the first floor, it’s warded, I don’t want anyone snooping about what I’m going to be saying there. Finished? Give me the stylus a moment. There. No, don’t go yet. Listen, Todich, I’ll be spending a lot of time in my workroom and while I’m there those men are going to run Cheonea for me. Hah!” A rumbling chuckle as Todichi Yahzi cooed a flurry of objections. “I know, my friend. That’s why I want you to watch them waking and sleeping. You know, Todich, this isn’t such an unhappy turn of affairs after all; I’ve been thinking about setting up a council of governance like that for some years now, to see how it would work if I weren’t here, ah, where was I? Yes. I’ll give you command of some ariels and a clutch of stone sprites… no no, you’ll be able to see and hear them, I’m not an idiot, Todich. If I had the mirrors… tchah! I’ve been lazy and stupid, my friend. Mmm. You’ll know a palace coup if you see one hatching, yes, Todich, I really have been listening to you. If you see anything funny happening, give me a call, I’ll show you how to reach me tonight, when I get back. No, I won’t be angry if you’ve misread some twitch or tic for treason, this is a time when caution is far more important than certainty. If they’re honest and I show my face, it will encourage them; if they’re starting a fiddle, they’ll think again.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Hot in here. Anything more you need to know? Good. Seven levels of mortal hell, Todich, I’ve got to wrestle that bitch Amortis into scourging the Nopidese kriorn. I’ll be on Deadfire Island for the rest of the day. If anything comes up,” he stretched, yawned, laughed, “turn it off till tomorrow. The world won’t fall apart in that short a time.”
Settsim
aksimin sat in his sanctuary watching as Ahzurdan rambled through the streets of Kukurul with the woman or sometimes the children; there was a tooth-edged trace between those odd preteens and Ahzurdan that made him smile because it was so much like the hostility he’d faced now and again when he’d taken lovers from among the double-gaited, the hostility of children who refuse to share their parent; in a way it was puzzling, from what he knew of Baby Dan there wouldn’t be much between the woman and him, nothing to make the children so jealous, but jealous they were and suspicious of him. They watched him and they burned.
And they protected him, presumably because the woman told him to. On the fifth night in Kukurul, late, long after the woman had gone to sleep. Ahzurdan slipped out of the Inn and went foraging among the alleys of the waterfront. Watching him sidle through the darkness, Maksim nodded to himself. Hunting a trader in dreamdust, he thought. You don’t change, Danny Blue. Miserable little rat. He thrust his hand into his robe and under the Stone, massaged his chest. Still running away from anything that makes you look at yourself. Wonder where the children are? Did you finally manage to slip them? He continued to watch and after several more twists he noticed a gray mastiff following Ahzurdan, a purposeful shadow in shadows. Now what does that mean? He examined the beast. Ah! crystal eyes, no irids, only a swirl of half-guessed vapor. One of the children, the boy, yes, I’ve never seen demons or anything else with eyes like theirs. So. Shapeshifters. He looked around for the girl and found a nighthawk drifting above the street, swinging in slow loops that centered over Ahzurdan. A large nighthawk with glimmering crystal eyes. Clever children. Strong muscles and a good set of tearing teeth down there on the ground, a watcher overhead. You can talk to each other, can’t you. Interesting. Mmm. Ambush ahead. You up there, you have to see them. What are you going to do about it? Nothing? Ah. The mastiff edged closer until he was almost breathing on Ahzurdan’s heels and the hawk dropped lower. I see. Let Baby Dan handle it, but be ready to jump if he needs you.
The muggers attacked and were dispatched neatly by a jolt from Ahzurdan; he smoothed his tunic down and went on, ignoring the dead men. Unaware of his escort, he found a dealer, got the dust and went slipping back to the Inn. He sat holding the packet and staring unhappily at it. Then he laid it away among his robes, undressed and crawled into bed. Sooo sooo, baby Dan, I wouldn’t ‘ve believed it without seeing it. Mmrn. That worries me. I don’t want you cleaned out and feeling pert, Danny Boy, I want you coming at me scared. He rubbed long limber fingers together, yellow eyes fixed on the sleeping man. You were the best I had, little Blue, yes, and the most dangerous. I smelled it on you the minute I saw you, standing there no one daring to get close. Your face is twisting, little Blue, remembering me in your dreams? I swore I’d tame you or kill you. Came close to doing both, didn’t I. But you ran, Danny Blue. You ran so fast and so far it didn’t seem worth coming after you. Got your nerve back? Or is it the woman? Demidemon with finicky tastes, or so I hear. No respecter of man or god. Goes her own way and be damned to those who try and stop her. Amortis, Haa-Unh, she turned purple when I told her Drinker was heading this way. Drinker of Souls. God of gods, I like her, I do. You haven’t a ship yet, lady, but any day now, and I’m not much good round water, did he tell you that, the toad? Mmm. Shapeshifters. I can deal with that. The eyes are enough to pin them. Wonder what they are when they’re home? Hah hah hah, I don’t really want to know. Sooo, what have I got for you, lady… mmm, what have I got… come the dawn, what do I throw at you?
6. Waiting At Kukurul, The Inn Of Pearly Dawn.
SCENE: Early morning. That lull time, when the night life has diminished to a few weary thieves, whores and drunks wandering through dingy gray streets, when the day life that will turn those streets noisy and busy and fill them with color is confined still to bedrooms (or whatever shelters the sleepers managed to find) and kitchens and stables.
Kukurul. The world’s navel. The pivot of the four winds. The pearl of five seas. It is said that if you sit long enough at one of the outside tables of the Sidday Lir, you’ll see the whole world file past you going up the finnan Katt. Kukurul. Expensive, gaudy, secretive and corrupt. Along the Ihman Katt, brothels for every taste (in some of them children mimicking the seductive pos-tures of street whores hang from upper windows solic-iting custom); ranks of houses where assassin guilds advertise men of the knife, men of the garotte, women of the poison trade. If your tastes run to the macabre, halfway long there is a narrow black building where death rites are practiced and offered for the titillation of connoisseurs. At the end of the Ihman Katt is the heart of Kukurul, the Great Market. A paved square two miles on a side where everything is on sale but heat, sweat and stench. Where noise is so pervasive and so intense that signing is a high art. No greens or flesh or food fish, but anything else you might desire. Trained dog packs for nervous merchants or lordlings who don’t enjoy personal popularity with family or folk; rare ornamental beasts and birds; honeycomb tanks of bright colored fighting fish, other tanks of ancient carp, chameleon seahorses, snails of marvelous color and convolution. Fine cloth and rare leathers. Blown glass of every shape, color, and use, including the finest mirrors in the world (according to the claims of their vendors). Gold, silver, coppersmiths sitting among their wares. Cuttlers and swordsmiths. Jewelers with fantastic wealth displayed about them. Spice merchants. Sellers of rare orchids. Importers of just about everything the world offered. And winding through the cluttered ways, water sellers, pancake women, piemen, meatroll vendors, their shops on their backs or rolling before them. That is Kukurul on the island of Vara Smykkal.
Vara Smykkal. The outermost island of the Myk’tat Tukery. A large verdant island. Little is known of the land and people beyond the ring of mountains about the deep sheltered harbor and most visitors don’t bother asking; they spend their time in the Great Market or the cool dim trade rooms of the many Inns that sit on the hills around the Market Flat.
Myk’tat Tukery. Generally thought of as the Thousand Islands, though no one has ever counted them. The Ulterior islands are mysterious, shut away from just about everyone, rumored to be fabulously wealthy and filled with women of superlative beauty and passion, with magical creatures like unicorns and manticores and spiders with nacreous eyes weaving wedding, silks so fine they’d pass through a needle’s eye, with trees that grow rubies and emeralds and sapphires, with fountains of gold and silver and liquid diamond. But the narrow crooked waterways between the islands were infested with bandits and pirates; there were deceptive shoals and rocks that moved, there were shifting mists and freaky winds and lightning walked most nights and one green rocky island looked much like the next. Even the cleverest and greediest men seldom got far into the maze and few of these got out again. And the ones that made it back seldom had much to say about what they’d seen.
During her wandering years after the ravaging of Arth Slya, Brann took a sailing canoe deep into the Myk’tat Tukery and out again, emerging with mind and body intact and memories of some lovely places, especially an island called Jal Virri, but like the less fortunate she didn’t talk about the experience. She’d intended to go back one day; events intervened and she went in another direction. As she told Ahzurdan, she settled into clay and contentment at the Pottery beside the Wansheeri. Coming back to Kukurul roused those memories and she thought about retreating into the maze and letting the world rock on without her, but once again she was too tangled in that world to do more than daydream of peace.