“Good,” Mulin said. “Hold it there. Hold it.” She waited a minute, then said, “Now, move it closer again.”
This back and forth went on for several minutes and then Mulin said, “Now for the hard part. You’re going to let it feed, but you have to be ready to stop when I tell you to. Are you ready?”
The red-haired woman nodded but didn’t look at her. All her concentration was on her sulbit.
“Go. But do it slowly, at your speed, not its.”
The woman’s hand shook as she let it move slowly toward the bull. She turned her hand over and pressed her sulbit against the animal’s back. The bull’s head jerked up and it bellowed.
An unpleasant feeling started in the pit of Cara’s stomach as the sulbit began to feed. Her knees grew weak and she staggered to the side, bumping into Karyn. She heard voices speaking to her but they seemed very far away. A great dizziness was growing in her and she blinked, trying to clear her vision.
The next thing she knew she opened her eyes and saw a ring of faces staring down at her with concerned looks.
“You fainted,” Karyn said, as if she were pronouncing a diagnosis.
“Are you okay?” Owina asked.
“Of course she is,” Bronwyn said, extending her hand. Cara took it and she helped her to her feet. “You’re probably just still tired from the long journey here.”
“I don’t think so,” Cara said. She felt nauseated and still wobbly. She didn’t have to look to know the woman’s sulbit was still feeding. More than anything she just wanted to get away. “If I could just sit down for a minute.”
They led her over to a bench and she sank onto it gratefully.
“Someone get her some water,” Donae said. But she made no move to get any and neither did anyone else.
“What happened?” Owina asked.
“I don’t know. I just felt dizzy all of a sudden and then…”
Karyn felt her forehead. “You don’t have a fever.”
Velma said, “Here comes the FirstMother.”
Everyone went quiet and they parted as the FirstMother walked up to Cara.
“She fainted when the sulbit started to feed,” Velma told the FirstMother.
“I’m okay now,” Cara said, struggling to her feet.
The FirstMother looked her up and down. “How long have you been a Tender?”
“Since I was five, FirstMother,” Cara said dutifully.
“Do you understand the seriousness of what faces us?”
Cara nodded. “I do, FirstMother.”
“Tharn killed one of our sisters,” Donae said, then looked uneasy at having spoken.
“Your vows,” the FirstMother said. “Do you take them seriously?”
Cara stood as straight as she could. “I do, FirstMother. No sacrifice too great.”
“Good. This is only a momentary weakness. Getting used to the sulbits can be difficult at first.”
Cara lowered her head. “Yes, FirstMother.”
“You are young and strong. Xochitl needs you. The land needs you.”
“Yes, FirstMother.”
The FirstMother turned to Velma. “She will go tonight to get her sulbit. Make the necessary preparations.” She turned back to Cara. “Are you ready?”
Cara opened her mouth and when she spoke she meant to agree. She really did. She was Cara, the one who always did what she was told. Netra was the rebellious one. Instead she said…
“No.”
The FirstMother gave her an incredulous look. Several people started talking at once. Bronwyn said loudly, “She’s just tired from the journey, FirstMother. I am happy to go first.”
Ignoring Bronwyn, the FirstMother asked Cara, “What did you say?”
Cara was as surprised as anyone. She looked at the FirstMother. She looked at the others, women she had lived her whole life around.
“If she could just wait a day or two,” Owina interjected. “She just fainted. She isn’t thinking right.”
The FirstMother ignored her too. Her gaze was piercing, painful.
Cara took a deep breath, knowing what she was going to say next would have painful repercussions, but also knowing there was no other answer she could give.
“I will not take a sulbit.”
“She just fainted!” Donae cried.
“To be clear,” the FirstMother said, “you would refuse this weapon, brought to us by the Protector himself, to aid in the fight against Melekath. Is this correct?”
Cara swallowed, looked at the others around her. She wanted to say yes. For their sakes she did. But she just couldn’t. She wasn’t sure why.
“It is,” she admitted.
The FirstMother’s face darkened and for a moment Cara thought she would strike her. “And why have you decided this? Are you afraid?” The FirstMother’s tone made it clear how she felt about the fears of others.
“I think so,” Cara admitted, then, “Yes, I am.”
“Fear can be overcome,” the FirstMother grated. Her sulbit had poked its head out of her robe and was staring at Cara with its shiny black eyes.
Cara nodded. Then she swallowed as she tried to find the words. “I didn’t say no because I am afraid.”
The FirstMother’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me why you said it then.”
Cara wished suddenly that Netra was there. Netra would know what to say. She was the strong one. But Netra wasn’t there, so she said the only thing that came to mind. “They seem wrong to me.”
“They are wrong?” Nalene growled. “The weapons sent by the Mother to save us from Melekath are wrong?”
Cara couldn’t breathe. What was she doing? Was she making a terrible mistake? She thought of Netra again. “What if they don’t?”
Veins were standing out on the FirstMother’s forehead. “What if they don’t what?”
“What if they don’t come from the Mother?” As soon as Cara said the words she knew that was what bothered her. She wasn’t even sure what she meant, but she knew she’d said what she really felt.
“The Protector brought them to us. He is Xochitl’s most trusted lieutenant.”
Now the confusion returned and Cara lowered her eyes again. “Yes. He is.”
“Yet still you refuse him?”
Tears started in her eyes and Cara had a moment to feel disgusted with herself. Why did she always cry? Why was she so weak? Why couldn’t she be more like Netra? “I do.” A moment later she added quietly, “I’m sorry.”
“I should have you removed from these grounds immediately.”
“She has nowhere to go,” Owina said softly. “She can’t possibly journey back to the Haven by herself.”
The FirstMother looked at Owina, then back at Cara. She stepped forward and put her face close to Cara’s. “Very well. Since you are a Tender, I will let you stay, but…” She held up one thick finger in front of Cara’s face. “You can no longer sleep with the rest of the Tenders and you will not wear the white robe or the Reminder. You will not speak to the Tenders and they will not speak to you. If you are going to stay here, it will be as a servant.”
Cara lowered her head once again. “Yes, FirstMother.”
The FirstMother spun on her heel and strode away.
Cara stood there in a daze, feeling as if all the air in the world had just been sucked away. Did that really just happen? Surely someone else had just done that, not her.
“Why did you do that?” Donae’s voice was shrill and high pitched with fear. Karyn was beside her, shaking her head. Behind them loomed Bronwyn, her face stern.
“I…don’t know.”
“Is it because of the shatren?” Karyn asked. “Because you know I’ve been to a slaughterhouse before and the animals there are much more cruelly treated—”
“I don’t think that’s it,” Cara said. Her tears were receding and she was starting to feel tired.
“Then go to the FirstMother,” Bronwyn declared. “At once. Tell her you’re sorry. She seems a fair woman. She’ll understand.�
��
“We’ll go with you. We’re your family,” Donae said imploringly.
“I’m sure she’ll forgive you,” Karyn added.
“I don’t think you should wait.” Donae actually grabbed her arm.
Gently, but firmly, Cara removed Donae’s hand from her arm. When she looked up at them she was surprised to find that her eyes were clear. The tears were gone and in their place was a small kernel of resolution. “No. I made my decision and I’m sticking with it.”
“But that makes no sense,” Donae said.
“You’re not thinking clearly,” Karyn added.
“You’re just upset. So much has happened. Maybe if you don’t have to go first,” Bronwyn added.
Only Owina said nothing, simply looking at her with sad eyes.
“Stop!” Cara held up her hands and to her surprise they went quiet. She looked at them, really looked at them, and suddenly she realized something. They were just as frightened as she was. So much had been lost. Netra was gone. Siena and Brelisha, the two women who had guided and shaped the Haven for so many years, were gone. They had lost their home. Chaos raged around them. This, the five of them, was all they had left. This tiny family was their last stability. And the thought that they were about to be fractured even more scared them all.
In that moment of clarity, Cara suddenly realized what these women who were her family would do: they would shun her as the FirstMother had decreed. They could not risk doing otherwise. With the realization came a sudden, sharp glimpse of how much it would hurt, how alone she had just made herself. She decided in the same instant that she would not hate them for it. She loved them and forgave them and let them go all in the same moment. This was her decision and she alone would bear it.
“I am sorry, but I have decided this. I will not take one of those things.” She did not attempt to convince any of them of her reasons or ask any of them to change their minds. She was still too unsure of her own reasons. She only knew that her decisions felt right to her, however much pain they would cause her.
The repercussions were swift in coming.
Bronwyn was the first. She stepped back and folded her arms. Her face hardened. “So it’s goodbye then.”
Karyn shot her a look, then stepped back too, giving Cara a stiff nod.
Donae hesitated, still trying to cling to Cara, but a look at her sisters decided her and she turned away hurriedly.
“Goodbye,” Cara said, and now she thought she would surely lose to the tears as three women as close to her as any family turned and walked away.
That was when Owina stepped in and enfolded her in a deep hug. “Stay true to yourself, Cara. And know that we still love you, however it might seem.”
Cara hugged her back, and then she did cry.
“You’re supposed to come with me,” someone said, and when Cara turned away from Owina she saw Adira standing there, frowning. “I’ll show you where you sleep now.”
Cara fell into step behind Adira and they started across the estate. First they went to the rough barracks that she had slept in the night before. Adira handed her a shift made of the meanest cloth. “Put this on. Leave your Reminder and white robe on the bed. Don’t touch anything. And hurry.”
Wordlessly, Cara did as she was told. When she was done, she followed Adira from the building and along one of the many stone footpaths that lead to the back of the estate. Ahead she saw a neat stone and wood cottage and felt momentarily better. That would not be a bad place to stay. But her hopes fell a moment later when Adira took a fork on the path that veered to the right. Tucked away, almost at the back wall of the estate, was a tiny, rude hut, the sort of place where gardening tools would be stored.
“You sleep here. You eat here. When you’re not working, this is where you stay.” Her orders finished, Adira just stood there, staring at Cara.
Finally, Cara said, “Is there something else?”
Adira scratched at her damaged shoulder, started to say something, changed her mind, then said, “I don’t think we’re gonna be friends after all.” Then she left, and Cara was alone.
Six
Rome was sitting in a small room just off the kitchens. It was a place for servants and other staff to eat, out of sight of the nobility and the wealthy. Rome liked eating here. He could stop in unannounced, holler into the kitchen for some food, and have something hot in front of him in no time. It was far better than eating in his official, formal dining hall where there was actually a servant who stood at the door and whose job it was to announce Rome when he entered the room. Announce him! Usually there wasn’t a soul in there. Why in the world did he need to be announced to no one? And if there was anyone in there, they knew who he was without being told. It was all just stupid. And it took forever to get food there also. He had to wait while they brought him a spoonful of this and a flake of that. A man could die of hunger waiting for something solid to appear. And it wasted his whole day.
Which was why Rome liked this room. The food was quick. It was solid. No one bothered him with fanfare. Why, some of the servants who worked and ate here were finally getting over their fear of him and would actually talk to him like people instead of frightened mice. All in all, it was a great system.
Except for today. Today Rome was just digging into a great pile of meat and gravy when Opus, the chief steward, walked in. Just like that Rome knew the fun was over. He set down his knife. “I am betrayed.” He glared at the three servants who were also sitting at the table eating. “Which one of you told him?” he growled. “I told everyone not to tell him.”
All three paled and shook their heads.
“None of them told me, Macht Rome,” Opus said smoothly. He was dressed as neatly as ever in black and white, with the wolf’s head emblazoned on his breast. Every hair was in place and his thin mustache looked almost painted on. His expression was smug and smooth as well. “It is my job to know.”
“Of course, it’s your job to know. Can’t this wait?” Rome asked, gesturing at the steaming food before him. He’d been up since before dawn, meeting with the weapon smiths, talking with the stable master about the horses, overseeing weapons practice in the yard. He was starving. “Can’t we set up a meeting or something?”
“Which you would conveniently forget?”
Rome sighed. Opus had him there. That was exactly what he would do. He did whatever he could to avoid the pompous little man. More than once he’d turned a corner in the palace, seen Opus in the distance, and taken off in the other direction. It was hardly dignified, he realized, but the way he saw it he was doing it for Opus’ own good. One of these days the steward was going to make Rome too angry and he’d just up and break his neck. Neither of them wanted that.
Rome resumed eating, already telling himself not to get angry, no matter what Opus said. He was only a servant. There was no need to let the man get under his skin. “What is it then?”
“I have taken the liberty of having your possessions moved from the tower to your proper quarters in the royal suite.”
Rome stopped with a forkful of food halfway to his mouth, feeling the heat rise in his neck. All resolutions about not getting angry disappeared. “You did what with my what?”
“I had your clothes and other sundries moved to your actual chambers. Really, Macht Rome, it is time you stopped skulking in the tower and showed the people you are a proper ruler.”
“You’re saying I’m not a good ruler?” Rome’s tone was low and dangerous.
Opus paled slightly and took a half-step back. But he had prepared his battle plan as thoroughly as any general and he would not flee the field so easily. He straightened the tight jacket he wore and brushed an invisible speck from his lapel. “These are frightening times, Macht. There are things the people expect of their leader. You lead men in battle. You know how important it is to show your soldiers—”
“I get it,” Rome said, cutting him off. He gave his chief steward an appraising look. The man had planned this well. Caught hi
m when he was eating, knowing that way he wouldn’t run off in the middle. Then stuck him with a jab about his responsibility to his people. It was a brilliant strategy, really. Opus was a dangerous opponent, indeed.
“You win. I will move,” Rome sighed. He picked up his fork again.
“A servant will show you the way when you are done eating, Macht,” Opus said smoothly, bowing deeply and moving for the door. Was that a hint of a triumphant smile on Opus’ face? Yes, Rome decided, it was. Opus had won this round and he knew it.
“I don’t need a guide,” Rome said, trying to salvage something from his defeat. “I’ve been there before.”
“Ah, yes,” Opus replied. “The rooms you have been sleeping in.” Some time ago he had elicited from Rome a promise to sleep in the palace part of the time, instead of always in the tower. Rome had never actually slept in the palace, though he pretended to. What he actually did was go in once in a while and mess up the blankets so it looked like he’d slept there. “Those were not actually the royal suite.”
“What? Those weren’t the king’s quarters? Why did you tell me they were?”
Opus bowed. “I was concerned that you would be…” He hesitated for just a moment. “Uncooperative. If you saw the true quarters. They are somewhat more opulent than you prefer.”
When Rome had finished his food a silent servant led him down hallways and up stairs, through anterooms and across galleries, until he was thoroughly turned around. “I’ll never be able to find this place again,” Rome growled. “I don’t think I’ve even been in this part of the palace before. Why is this Bereth-cursed place so big?”
The servant shot him a frightened look over his shoulder and scurried on.
Opus appeared suddenly at the top of a short flight of stairs. Behind him were open double doors. “Right this way, Your Majesty.”
Rome fixed him with a glare. “What did I say about that ‘Your Majesty’ clatter?”
Opus lowered his head in recognition of the rebuke, but the faint smile did not leave his face and Rome had to stifle the all-too-familiar urge to throttle him. Rome clumped up the stairs and into the open doors, where he stopped and stood with his mouth open. “You could stable horses in here,” he said at last.
Guardians Watch Page 6