Darsi glanced at me. I ignored him and said, "You think you'll be taken from us if people discover we're giving you too much freedom?"
She looked at me, head tilted. "Of course, ke emodo."
"You," Hesa said, low. "You don't belong anywhere else. And if they try to take you, we will stop them."
All three of us looked at Hesa, who was the picture of calm save for the fierceness in its eyes.
"It's right," I said at last to Kuli. "I know it's useless to say don't fear, so I won't. But we won't let anyone take you from us. Which brings me to another matter, perhaps one you could advise me on."
"Ke emodo?" she said, eyes widening.
"House Asara has room for two more prizes," I said. "How should we choose?"
Darsi said, "And can we have one of the anadi we served at the residence?"
Now I looked at him and he flushed. "We've been discussing it, those of us who went. We... we'd like to save some of them. If we can. Except we don't know their names—"
Hesa made a pained noise in its throat and I was frozen. It was Kuli who said gently, "That is a great kindness on the part of the emodo, ke Darsi. But anadi who are or might be pregnant can't be removed from the residence. It will have to be someone who isn't currently in use."
"Someone," I murmured. "Or someones? Could we do as House Rabeil does and have someone different every month?"
Kuli glanced at me, ears flattening despite the hope in her eyes. She looked away and said, "That would be dangerous, ke emodo. The prizes usually aren't sent back because it can breed resentment among those who aren't chosen."
"Rabeil does it," Darsi said.
"Rabeil can do it without being noticed," Kuli said, low. "They're in charge of all the anadi for het Narel, ke emodo, so whatever they do, it's assumed to be done with the empire's permission and for its good. But to have another House take up the practice? There would be anadi processing through the het at least once a month. Everyone would wonder why House Asara had this privilege and no one else..."
"If any House, why not ours?" Hesa said. "We are the home of the Stone Moon hero. Perhaps they might think him eccentric."
"Or perverse," Darsi said, shoulders tense.
"Would it truly be a kindness?" I asked her. "Or would it be too difficult? I would want freedom, if only for a month. But I know not everyone would."
"Not everyone would," Kuli said. "But enough of us do. You could..." She hesitated, then went on. "I know the other anadi in the residence. I know who'd like the chance and who would rather be passed over. If you let me decide...?"
"I was supposed to see Eduñil later this week anyway," I said. "Perhaps I will invite him over first and see what he thinks of the idea."
"Is that a risk?" Darsi asked. "Talking to the emodo charged with assigning the anadi prizes about something potentially... troublesome?"
I thought of Eduñil's friend, of our talk in the cheldzan. "No. And he'll be able to tell us if it's safe to do so."
"All right," Darsi said with a sigh. "But I think I'm going to bed before the gods can come up with anything else to worry me with."
I chuckled. "Good night, Darsi."
He touched my shoulder—a real gesture, I wondered, or playing for Kuli? I could no longer tell. And then he left.
Kuli was studying Hesa. "You were never a jarana."
"No," Hesa said. "To guard the anadi was never my duty."
She said, "But you want to guard me."
"Gods help me," Hesa said. "Yes."
Kuli said, "Would it help if I said I'll try not to need the guarding?"
Hesa barked a laugh. "No. Not in House Asara. And not if it means forcing you to be something you aren't."
Kuli considered, pursed her lips. Then said, "At very least I will try to be circumspect. I want to stay here. And I don't want to get anyone hurt." She stood and said, "I'll retire too. I want to try my new bed."
"Good night, ke anadi," I said, smiling.
"Good night, ke emodo, ke eperu," she said and followed in Darsi's wake.
Once she had gone, Hesa said, "Gods. You know how to pick them, Pathen."
"Magnificent, isn't she?" I said, rueful.
"A kaña if ever I met one," Hesa said. "Maybe you should buy her a ring."
"That is inviting too much trouble when we have enough," I said. "I'll think about your request, Hesa."
"All right," it said. And made a great show of checking the door before it licked its spoon again. I wrinkled my nose at it and was gratified by the laugh.
"You should lie down, pefna," I said. "An eperu who does the work of ten should at least get the rest of one."
"I go as you command," it said, mouth quirking.
In the morning I prepared a message for Eduñil, extending him an invitation to eat at House Asara. I thought of delivering it myself but Rabeil was in the opposite direction from Transactions, where I was planning to resume my perusal of open contracts so that my hiring another set of Jokka would make sense. I sent for an eperu to act as my messenger and noticed that this particular individual had volunteered for that duty more than once.
"You like running messages?" I asked. "Or is it chance that sees you chosen for it?"
"I do like it, ke emodo," it replied. "I enjoy seeing the city."
As well it might; Laisira's eperu had had more freedom than their peers in the Stone Moon work parties but they weren't permitted abroad in the city without escort or errand. Jurenel had jealously guarded what few eperu Laisira had been permitted to retain from public view, knowing that the empire was likely to covet anything it saw too frequently, and that had kept them safe. But it did not surprise me that they had longed for more. Like me, the eperu of House Laisira were old enough to remember a time when they could walk the streets of het Kabbanil with no more plan than to entertain themselves and spend what shell they'd earned on the luxuries that often only they could afford.
Which reminded me. I was on my way out of the House after this, so I had dressed for it and from one of my pockets I drew a few coins. I offered them to the eperu. "If you're to be my messenger, you should be paid for it."
It looked at the coins then up at me, ears splayed. "But what would I do with money, ke emodo? Where could I spend it? Where would it be safe?"
"Buy something in town on the way back, if you wish," I said. "And say it is for someone else in the House."
It considered. "I could buy food without drawing attention, so long as I didn't stay." It smiled. "I haven't bought food from a stall in so long... I can't even remember the last time, ke emodo."
"Go on, then," I said, but after it left I frowned.
Hesa was in conference with the new eperu when I arrived at the quarters assigned to them. At the sight of me the discussion stopped and Hesa twisted around on its stool to look toward the door. "Ke emodo?"
"Do you have a moment?" I said. "I have a question."
"Of course," it said, and excused itself. I withdrew into the hall, bringing it with me.
"Do we pay our eperu?" I said.
"What?" Hesa said, startled. "No one pays eperu, Pathen. That's the law."
"Is it codified or just habit?" I said.
"It's codified," Hesa said, its entire body stiff. "Eperu aren't allowed to have money of their own. Their needs are provided by the empire either directly or through a House, which is required by law to offer them shelter, clothing and food." It lifted its hands at my expression. "And the amount of clothing and the type are also set down. You should know this, Pathen. You audited accounts for two handfuls of Houses."
"I went over their sales and expenses," I said. "There was a column for stipends for the members of the House. I assumed it included eperu...!"
"It doesn't," Hesa said. "And it never has and... Pathen, no. We can't. Do you truly want the wrath of the Stone Moon to descend on us? If you give the eperu money, you give them power. Why do you think the empire made it illegal?"
"We can't not pay half our Household," I sai
d.
Whatever Hesa saw in my face convinced it of my intransigence on the subject. It said slowly, "If you want this, you will have to find some way to convince Thesenet of it. I won't do it unless I know it won't bring the empire down on us. It's better to do without money than to be hauled to a platform for punishment."
"No," I murmured. "I won't let that happen."
I now knew Hesa well enough to see the fear it refused to be animated by. So I said, "Ke eperu, I won't."
It sighed. "All right, Pathen." And managed a faint smile. "It would be pleasant to be able to buy things, now and then."
I let it return to its meeting and departed for Transactions, but I worried that I'd inadvertently sent my eperu messenger into a trap. The matter occupied me throughout my stay in the Contracts office, twining through with the question of whether to trust Thesenet with the revelation of Hesa's competence. The empire had always feared eperu and done everything within its power to limit their agency. They did not work, they were worked; they earned no money. They could no longer negotiate their own contracts, could not leave their duties, had no leisure time. The last thing I should do was advance the notion of eperu independence to the minister of the second largest het on Ke Bakil.
When I returned in the late afternoon, I found a message from Eduñil on my desk, agreeing to come by the following day. I went hunting my messenger and saw it in the fields, moving among the other eperu; it had come to no harm, then. Relieved, I returned to the House, detouring long enough to find Kuli in the paper hall, watching the emodo at their work and asking questions. Seeing her there distracted me, but not enough to fail to note Abadil's absence. I had not seen him for almost two days now.
"I haven't either," Hesa said when we gathered after supper. "Have you...?"
"Nothing," Darsi said.
"Has he slept in his bed?" I asked, now alarmed. "Has anyone checked?"
We met each other's eyes and then stood almost as one. I was the first to turn toward the door... so I was the first to see him.
"Abadil!" Darsi said behind me. "You've scared the breath out of us! Where have you been?"
"I had an important errand," Abadil said, looking at me. "And now I must request that you come with me, ke Pathen. I've been asked to arrange a meeting and it's waiting for you."
I couldn't read his body or his face. He was tense, almost quivering with it, but his gaze was steady and far more serious than was his wont. Whatever this meeting involved, it was important to him. But: "Now? It's late."
"I know," Abadil said. "But this is the only time that was safe. Please, ke emodo. You don't have to come alone... bring ke Hesa."
"Have you turned on us?" Darsi asked, voice sharp as knives.
"No!" Abadil said, shocked.
"Then why all this secrecy?" Darsi said. "A late night meeting you didn't tell anyone you were arranging and aren't telling anyone about now? With the two most important people in the House? Are you going to lead them to the empire's authorities?"
"No," Abadil said, ears flat and eyes wide. "Gods no! The secrecy is to protect the people coming." He looked at me. "When you see them you'll understand."
"Let's go," I said, before I fully realized the words were leaving me. Once they had, though, I didn't retract them. I didn't understand Abadil's tension but his gravity affected me. I needed to know what had caused it, not just for myself but for the safety of all the House. "Hesa?"
"With you, ke emodo," it said, but I heard the wariness in its voice.
"Darsi," I said. "Stay. We'll be back."
Darsi's ears flicked back. "Pathen—"
"I trusted you," I said. "And that trust has not been betrayed. This is Abadil's test. Would you have me retract it?"
He grimaced. "No. But if you're not back by truedark I'll send someone after you."
"Good," I said. To Abadil, "Shall we?"
"Yes," he said. "We'll need rikka."
Abadil would not be drawn out so I stopped trying; his anxiety when we lifted our voices made me wonder what had him so nervous. He didn't ride out through the front gate either, which would have taken us onto het Narel's streets, but instead led us through the moonlit fields and out into the low grasslands surrounding the eastern edge of town. Once he'd won us free of the het he headed north toward where the earth furrowed and began to swell into hills. What was he looking for? For he was searching for something, glancing at the sky, the horizon, the hills, the tension in his body agitating the rikka.
At last he stopped and slid off the beast. The locale was unremarkable save that there was a firepit dug, and in it a bowl.
"How did you find this again?" Hesa asked, perplexed.
Abadil jerked a chin at the sky. "I followed a map."
While he filled the bowl and lit it, we dismounted and found rocks to tether the rikka. Then we joined Abadil. He was standing, a fire-licked silhouette against the violet sky. The flames were brilliant, pale yellow and flickering red, and I looked away from them until my sight acclimated to the dark. I thought I'd failed in that when I saw the glow over the hill, that I was looking at an after-image of Abadil's dark shape.
But I was wrong.
"Thank the gods," Abadil said, exhaling. "They made it."
Three Jokka approached us and I saw them first only as luminescence against the blue: one colder than moonlight, that one first and strongest. After that, a shimmer of honey-gold, faint but pure... and last, a dark figure between them, walking. They became three people, two on rikka, one on foot. Behind me, Hesa drew in a sharp breath.
The foremost Jokkad had hair to rival an anadi's, hair that moved in a faint breeze that none of us felt. Despite the autumn chill, he wore only a pair of light pants and gave no sign that he noticed the cold.
They stopped before us. Then the emodo dismounted, tail sliding like a cable over the beast's rump until it could spill on the ground. He approached, bringing with him an uncanny chill I felt not on my skin but in my joints and the hollows of my teeth. I understood now the conflicting reports of this male's appearance. He was beautiful and disturbing, and of course I knew who he was.
He came to me first; we looked at one another for a long time. There was an intellect in his eyes sharp as glass but what arrested me most was the sense of... contentment he radiated. Contentment.
"You brought him, then," said the avatar of the Void on the World.
"As you see," Abadil replied.
Keshul considered me, pursed his lips. "You're taller than I thought you’d be."
It was not what I'd expected to hear from an oracle. "Should I be short?"
The emodo said wryly, "It would be easier on my neck."
Behind him, the Jokkad standing beside the rikka sighed and the one on the beast muffled a giggle.
"They despair of me because I keep fumbling these moments of world-shattering significance," Keshul confided, voice dry.
"No," I said. "You're doing fine." Because it was true; no matter how approachable his demeanor made him, the unworldly appearance, the chill, and most of all the improbable calm set him very, very much apart. "I presume I have the honor of speaking to the Fire in the Void."
"If honor it is," Keshul said. "Yes."
"And have you asked to meet me because you'd like to decide whether to destroy me on het Narel's behalf?" I said.
Silence then. Slowly, Keshul's brows lifted. "And who told you that I stood guardian to het Narel?"
"There are people who remember you," I said. "And how you fought the Stone Moon on the het's behalf. They seem to think you still have a personal interest in Narel. Are they right?"
"Maybe," Keshul said. "And maybe I have come to make a decision about you—" He stopped abruptly, looking past my shoulder. I twisted and found Hesa had taken a step toward Abadil, one hand curled into a fist. The menace in its eyes was enough to make Abadil back away hastily.
"You promised," Hesa snarled. "You said there would be no danger!"
"He's not going to decide against ke
Pathen!" Ababil replied, testy.
"And who is this?" said a voice behind Keshul. The Jokkad on foot stepped into the firelight, the rikka it led following... and here was a neuter, long and lean, sculpted by more journeys on the World's back than I could easily imagine. Its eyes were alive with interest. "Did you bring an eperu?"
I hesitated, then said, "I have not made introductions. I'm Pathen Asara-emodo. This is my pefna, Hesa Asara-emodo. And Abadil you evidently know." I eyed my clay-keeper.
Keshul said, "Pleased to meet you, ke eperu. Behind me you see Dekashin on foot, and the anadi on the rikka is the Brightness's seer, Bilil. Both of whom bear with my nonsense why, I know not."
"Because we love you," Bilil said with the air of one advancing a very old, well-worn argument.
"Because they love me," Keshul repeated to us with that wry voice, but there was no mockery in his face: only tenderness and certainties that I had never thought I would see in another Jokkad.
"I hear treason from the mouth of the emperor's lover," Hesa said behind me, voice tight.
"You hear common sense from the mouth of the Void's own avatar," Keshul said. "Don't tell me I speak treason, ke eperu, when I see what you feel for your Head of Household in every line of your body."
Hesa backed away several paces, shaken. I stepped between it and Keshul, who watched impassively.
"You see what we are driven to," the anadi said from her perch on the rikka’s back. "We all know very well that we love across sexes as well as within them, and yet it is a thing that requires secrets and defense."
"The defense," Keshul finished, "of a former Claw of the empire." When I stiffened, he said, "I too have my sources. And they're not all Abadil." He threw an amused glance at my clay-keeper, who had the grace to look embarrassed. Continuing, Keshul said, "You are in no danger from me, ke emodo. This I vow to calm the fears of your eperu. Nor will I reveal your secrets. I know you are involved with the rebels from the truedark kingdom. I know that you have gone to het Narel in an attempt to create change. I only want to hear what you plan."
"And how do I know you will not take what I plan back to the emperor?" I said.
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