"You," it said after a moment, "are not listening to me, ke emodo."
"You're telling me it will take less time than expected to build the warehouses because the Stone Moon's codes for buildings not intended for continuous occupation are less stringent than those meant for residences," I said, "and that you are nevertheless concerned about under-building the warehouse because if it collapses the economic repercussions for the het will be painful."
It eyed me, mouth twitching.
"You need to re-dye your roots," I added. "Your hair is coming in copper at the brow."
"Pathen," Hesa said.
"Hesa," I answered, wondering at its tone.
It set its tablet down on my desk and folded its hands on its knees. "Your door is closed and your window is on the ceiling."
I glanced up at the window, and said, "I suppose someone might climb the building."
"I doubt it," the eperu said, and reached over the desk to slowly curl its fingers through the seam down the front of my tunic. I drew in a breath, enough of one to be ready for the kiss, which it took from me over the wax tablets of all the accounts and contracts I was still reading.
"We should move those," I said against its mouth when it released me, or I released it.
"You'll be careful," it said, grinning, and licked me.
So we did not share a bed the way I wanted to, and no doubt it did as well. But now and then, when we were sure we would not be disturbed in my office, we found ways.
Only four days passed between the party at Rabeil and my meeting with Eduñil and yet it seemed far longer. I was glad to get out, and quite a walk it was; the cheldzan he'd chosen was not in the Green, but in the market district in town. I hadn't realized how difficult it was for me to hold up the mask of an emodo of greater means—and aims—until I found myself among the sort of Jokka I'd grown up with. It was a pleasant surprise and it intrigued me that Eduñil had selected such an unpretentious location.
The cheldzan was a two-story building. There had been a building beside it, I thought, or one planned and never erected, for there was a space between it and the next. That space it had used to its advantage as a courtyard, and tables spilled from it out onto the lawn in front of the street. Eduñil was sitting at one of these tables, furthest back in the courtyard where a red awning threw a warm shadow over the seats.
"Nice place," I said, joining him.
He smiled at me. "Ke Keshul introduced it to me. They have good soup here, among other things."
I hesitated, then said, "So, you knew the Fire in the Void."
"The emperor's priest," Eduñil said.
"And some say other things," I said.
"I've heard," Eduñil said with a trace of sorrow. He smiled a little. "I don't know much of his life once he left het Narel. But of his life here, when the Stone Moon came... that I can tell you. And I think you should know."
"And why is that?" I asked.
"Because," Eduñil said. "He is the Void's avatar. And what he does not approve of, he destroys."
"And this applies to me... how?" I asked, disturbed.
"You live in het Narel now, ke emodo," Eduñil said. "And you came as one of the empire's heroes. Het Narel is of particular interest to the Fire in the Void as well as to the Stone Moon. You must walk carefully here, for all eyes are upon us. Particularly if you can look upon my friend without distaste."
"There are those who do?" I asked, surprised.
Eduñil studied me. And his ears splayed. His smile was without any humor at all.
"Let us order our food," he said. "Then we can talk."
Over soup served in bowls with handles shaped like a bundle of shuñe stalks, Eduñil spoke in a low voice, and I listened. He told of how the Stone Moon's first emissaries first came to het Narel to build their wells, and how he was the one to welcome them in based on advice he'd received in an uncanny reading from Keshul Akkadin-emodo, the Void's diviner.
"I was not entirely sure of him when I went," Eduñil said, fingers resting on the handle of the bowl. "But I didn't know where else to go and to be honest, ke emodo, I wasn't sure of these strangers. So I thought... what could I lose by asking?"
"And you asked, and the Void answered," I said.
"Yes," Eduñil said, his eyes losing their focus. And I believed him... at very least, I believed that what he'd seen had been compelling.
He continued, explaining how the Stone Moon had begun the pacification of het Narel. I was familiar with the process though I'd never drawn the duty myself. The empire came with money and gifts and began solving problems with its customary efficiency and brilliance, and at some point the town's principals realized they had a master but no longer minded because their lives were so much easier that the price they paid for it felt fair. Only when people became accustomed to those luxuries did they begin to feel the bite of the empire's restrictions. Or at least, that was how it almost always worked. Unlike every other het I'd ever heard tell of, het Narel had fought this encroachment from its onset through the person of the Fire in the Void, whose machinations on the town's behalf were scarcely believable. To me, anyway, as a former Claw of the empire he had set himself against. I knew what he'd been fighting. And amazingly, he'd almost succeeded.
"I saw it," Eduñil said. "With my own eyes. He'd never killed so much as an animal before that afternoon, ke emodo. But he put a knife through the two emissaries we'd captured without a hesitation."
"But one of them had gone back to het Kabbanil," I guessed, because it's what I would have done had I encountered the problems these Claws had.
"And brought back reinforcements," Eduñil said. "They dragged Keshul away, and I don't know what they did with him that night but he was expected to die from it."
"Expected?" I repeated, surprised. "They didn't kill him outright?"
"No," Eduñil said. "They kept him all night, then dragged him to the plains to die. But he didn't. Two weeks later he came back."
"Two weeks," I said. "In summer. On the plains alone, and presumably beaten close enough to death for the Claws to believe his fate inescapable."
Eduñil said, "Yes." He pushed his bowl away and said, "The Void came to him, ke emodo. And there was proof. He left us dark brown with a brown mane and came back white as a star at night."
I had never seen the male the emperor was rumored to have taken to his bed. I'd heard conflicting stories about his appearance. Some said he was beautiful. Some said he looked half-starved, uncanny. But all the stories said something about the white hair and hide. Hair could be bleached. But skin? I frowned.
"Yes," Eduñil said. "That was our response also. He walked in from the summer sands and presented himself to the remaining emissary of the Stone Moon, saying he wanted escort to the capital. And even hating him, Nelet couldn't argue, and sent him north. After that..." He trailed off. Shook himself. "After that, we saw very little of him. I know he was responsible for the execution of the remaining Stone Moon emissary and the Head of Household who'd betrayed him to Nelet. I know he interceded on het Narel's behalf several times. And I know he arranged for House Rabeil to receive its anadi tokens."
"He knew you had a friend," I said.
"Yes," Eduñil said.
"How did Rabeil not come to have an anadi presence in the House, if it had the contract for breeding the anadi?" I said.
"Ah, but we didn't have that contract initially," Eduñil said. "After the Stone Moon was forced to give up Kathara, the House Keshul agitated into unsuitability for the task, they managed the residence directly because we were on the verge of famine and had no food to feed new children anyway. In fact, they scattered some of our anadi to other hets in those first few months. Rabeil didn't receive the contract until years later. Until then we'd been in control of Transactions through my instatement there, and the empire didn't want to pool too much power in one place."
"Wise," I murmured.
Eduñil watched me. I let him. Knowing the difficult history of het Narel's entrance
into the empire made sense of a great deal. Of the tension at the party, of Thesenet's attitude, of comments heard here and there. It was almost as if the town had scar tissue I'd been able to feel but not gauge the extent of.
Now I knew how that wound had been made, and why it had healed so poorly.
"I have always thought," Eduñil said, voice low, "that het Narel would be important in the history of the empire. And that it had not finished telling its story yet."
"It is evident to me that there are many stories here that no one has heard in full," I said at last. "Maybe when we hear them all, we will be able to..."
When I didn't finish, Eduñil said, "...to?"
But I didn't know. I smiled a little and said, "We'll have to find out together." Folding my hands together I said, "Tell me, Eduñil... did you know anything of House Reña?"
He finished his tea and said, "No, ke emodo... and if you are wise, you will not ask." I watched him stand. "A most pleasant meal, Asara. I hope we'll do it again?"
"I'd like that," I said.
"And when should I tell my Head of Household that House Asara will call on the residence?" he said.
I flicked my ears back, but said, "Next week, ke Eduñil. It would be irresponsible to take chances with the health of the anadi."
"You have the heart of a steward," Eduñil said. "I'll tell Rozen to expect your party. Good day."
I remained in that chair beneath the striped awning for quite some time, lingering with Eduñil's parting words. The heart of a steward. Who had heard of such a thing, outside of stories of times so long past het Kabbanil's ruins had been new when they'd been common? And how many more such words would I hear in het Narel? I'd have Abadil digging up musty old records too old for fidelious transmission. But then, perhaps that was how fact became truth, sifted through the minds of generations as they pass it, each rubbing the detail from it until all that was left was the core. Shod, a word so old it barely sounded like part of the language at all. Steward.
"The first handful of us are ready to return," Hesa told me later that night. "You'll want to go to Transactions as soon as you have the moment to spare because gods know we need the extra labor."
The four of us were sitting together over our meal: Abadil and Darsi on one side of the table, and Hesa sitting alongside me on the other. We'd taken to having our dinner several hours after the rest of the House had dined, and while it meant we made do with leftovers it suited us because we were more likely to be left alone in common room. The Jokka of the House felt that if we were in our offices we were working and could be bothered, but eating meant we were done with duty. We kept our conversations quiet but the room was large and the table we habitually chose far from the door.
Hesa and I both sat facing the door, anyway. We'd learned our paranoia for different reasons but it remained with us all the same.
"And where are they coming from?" I asked.
Hesa glanced at Abadil, who twitched an ear with a rueful expression. I narrowed my eyes. Returning its attention to me, Hesa said, "They're going to be out-of-work eperu caravan leaders."
I leaned back. "Isn't that a little too much truth?"
"It actually is truth," Abadil said. "These are some of Ilushet's people. But the story's believable, Pathen, because the eperu caravans have been disbanded. The licensing fees drove them out of business, and Void knows that's a crime... some of those caravans have been operating since they evolved out of the nomad clans." He tapped the table with a finger. "But the important thing is that the Stone Moon knows those eperu are out of work... and they know we're trying to hire people who are good at driving caravans. Where else would we look?"
"It makes you look like someone who knows how to make use of resources in the empire's interests that would otherwise be lying idle," Hesa said.
"It makes us look like we're allying with dissidents," Darsi said, ears flat. "The reason the empire pushed those eperu out of the market was because they were suspected of bringing supplies and weapons to the truedark kingdom."
I glanced at him, then said, "He's right."
"He's not," Hesa said. "At least, not entirely." At my raised brows, it said, "The eperu caravans were too hard to control, Pathen. The Stone Moon wanted the Houses to accrue the wealth associated with trade because it had better access to them to tax them. You were a Claw. Which would you have preferred to police? A House in het Kabbanil you could visit daily to harangue for late payment... or a band of eperu without permanent homes who could be anywhere on the back of the World when you needed them?"
"That's also true," I said. "But that doesn't invalidate Darsi's point."
"We've established you as a risk-taker who gives the persecuted and downtrodden an opportunity to return to society as productive members with the fiction about House Molan," Abadil said. "This is just more of the same."
"This is riskier," Darsi muttered, but he seemed less sullen... perhaps he was too busy being surprised at the feeling of being on my side for a change.
"It is," I said. "So we should be very good about proving ourselves loyal citizens of the empire, bound to our duty." I glanced at Darsi. "Next week we are going to the anadi residence."
Darsi's ears flicked back; he looked away with a grimace.
"Don't look at me," Abadil said. "You're not dragging me in there."
"We'll need another thirteen volunteers," I said to Darsi, ignoring him. "But you and I will have to go, for the sake of appearances."
"That will help," Hesa murmured. "No one likes breeding duty. If House Asara fulfills theirs so quickly after having been given the privilege, it will look very good."
"And why do you think you're getting out of it?" Darsi asked Abadil.
"Because if you take me there I will vomit all over my potential mate," Abadil said dryly. "I can't take the koli, it makes me sick."
"Can't you—"
Abadil held up his hands. "Don't. Don't ask me if I can manage without it. Not until you've tried it. Or have you been to a residence already?"
"Not yet," Darsi admitted, ears splayed.
"Then come back to me after you have," Abadil said. "And ask me. If you're capable without aid."
"Let's not fight about it," I said. "It's going to be unpleasant enough without making it worse amongst ourselves." To Hesa I said, "If I go tomorrow to Transactions, will everything be ready then?"
"Yes," it said.
"And I can leave the finding of the volunteers to you?" I asked Darsi, because as onerous as the duty was I knew being entrusted with the responsibility would please him.
"I'll find them," Darsi said. "Even if I have to bribe them." He paused. "I can bribe them, yes?"
"You can offer a monetary incentive," I said. "But don't overdo it. I don't want to encourage people who won't be careful of the anadi."
"All right," Darsi said. "Yes, I see what you mean. I'll find you the people."
"Good," I said.
Abadil said, "And I'll have a sample for you soon, ke Pathen. Within a week."
"So soon?" I said.
Abadil snorted. "I didn't say it would be a good sample."
I laughed. "Don't waste the effort unless it's right."
"Or the money," Hesa said.
"You two," Abadil said with a sigh. "Gods help anyone who tries to get anything past you. And don't you laugh at me, Hesa Asara-emodo. I've seen the notes you scrawl on my requests when you think I won't read them. You should be ashamed of yourself."
"And yet somehow I'm not," Hesa said, fighting a smile unsuccessfully.
"I have seen enough," Abadil said with a new long-suffering look. He seemed to have an entire arsenal of them. "I go! Ke Pathen?"
"We're done here tonight," I said.
"Very good," he said. "Come, Darsi!"
"Why?" Darsi asked, mystified but rising anyway.
"Void," Abadil said with a fresh sigh. "But you are daft sometimes, and I suspect on purpose. Are you?"
"No," Darsi said, lashing his tail onc
e, but he sounded like he was trying not to laugh past his sour expression.
"We're leaving," Abadil told us, and took Darsi off by the wrist, protesting but, I noted, not too strenuously.
"You don't suppose..." Hesa said, trailing off.
"The two of them?" I said. And smiled. "No... no. Abadil has already given his heart away, he just hasn't realized it yet. And who knows what Darsi wants, but a man almost a decade his senior probably isn't it."
"As long as it's not you," Hesa said with a laugh.
"It had better not be me!" I said. "But I admit, one becomes accustomed to having him around."
"Yes," Hesa agreed. "One does." And added, "Pathen... that trip to the residence..."
"Must be done," I said. When it began to speak I held up my fingers. How I longed to touch them to its lips to quiet it, the way I might have in private... but even here in the relative safety of House Asara's common room, I would take no chances with its safety. "I know, pefna."
"That's what I'm trying to tell you," it said, softer. "You don't. And you won't until you go to the task."
"And what do you suggest?" I asked. "How should I prepare?"
"I don't know," it said, eyes pained. "Only that it's better to know that there is no preparing than to go to it with false confidence."
Darsi's voice at the door interrupted our talk, carrying clearly in the silence... something about there still being tea on the hearth, but a touch oversteeped by now so to add water. Both of us looked toward the door as Jushet's emodo spy padded through. For a spy he looked disarmingly normal: weary, distracted, with some of his tail having fallen out of the mussed braid. Before he could look toward us, I said, "Ah, one of Abadil's faithful workers. How goes the paper?"
The emodo looked up, startled, and then recognizing me sketched a hasty gesture at his brow. "Head of Household. It... is... going. I suppose."
I chuckled. "And doesn't that description fill me with confidence." When the emodo began hastily to speak I said, "No, don't worry. I know how it goes with experiments. Kaliser, isn't it?"
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