Before I could speak, the Third Protector said, “Gracious Lady Flethyssanya is an honoured guest of the Keeper for as long as she wishes. There is no need to inconvenience her kin.”
My uncle nodded, and made the appropriate noises of gratitude. He seemed no less hostile, however, and that edge of fear was still there. Now why should my uncle fear me, his long-lost niece, believed dead and now miraculously restored to the family’s arms? That was a cause for rejoicing, surely?
“You will want to rejoin the Academia, I daresay?” my uncle said. “Continue your research, and so forth. Important work, as I understand it.”
That was a curious question. I couldn’t quite see why he would care about my research interests. But I saw no reason to conceal the truth.
“I shall not be here long enough for that. I am only here to deal with a few personal matters, and then I go to Hurk Hranda.”
To my surprise, that brought a smile to his face. “Hurk Hranda? You lived there before, of course. So it would be more of a home to you than Mesanthia, naturally. A sensible choice, my dear.”
“No, you misunderstand. I go there because I have been asked to pay blood-price. I am to marry Mighty Prince Kru Hruart.”
Even without the surge of glee in his mind, I could hardly miss the exultation in his face. He almost laughed out loud, converting it to a cough at the last moment. He made some polite expressions of good wishes, and shortly afterwards bowed himself out, leaving me bemused.
The Third Protector crossed the room and patted me on the shoulder, murmuring into my ear, “He was afraid you had returned for the Choosing. Given your age and current rank, you would be the Allussina’s natural candidate.”
“He could have asked me directly,” I retorted. “I would have told him that I have no desire at all to be Keeper.”
“Have you not?”
“None at all. I can hardly imagine a worse fate.”
“I expect you can,” he said, his voice heavy with sympathy. “The fate that awaits you in Hurk Hranda is far worse.”
~~~~~
That day seemed interminable. I met with the legal experts who would deal with my father’s death wishes, but although they smiled and bowed and told me endlessly that they would serve my needs, I was still officially dead and therefore nothing could be done. So, despite the pointlessness of it, I was obliged to begin the process of making myself no longer dead. So tedious.
Zak was out in the city, dealing with his secret minions, I assumed, and the Keeper was engaged on official business. Nor was there any sign of Xando, although I’d expected him to seek me out. I felt surprisingly bereft. Still, I supposed it was good practice. Once I was at Hurk Hranda, I would be entirely alone. I tried not to think about that.
Late in the afternoon, a message came from the Keeper: would I join her on the roof of the tower? I followed a servant – an Akk’ashara, so a very high-ranking servant – along corridors and up many stairs, emerging finally by way of a small tower onto the roof. I’d expected chimneys and rain gutters and unadorned stonework, but it was nothing like that. Neat paths divided triangular herb beds, each filled with precisely trimmed shrubs and rows of vegetables. Rills of water ran between the beds, for irrigation. There wasn’t a single ornamental plant, nor a leaf out of place. In one corner, several workers methodically hoed and weeded. In another, two cooks discussed the produce, and made their choices for the dishes that evening.
The servant led me without hesitation to a far corner, where I found the Keeper and Zak’s father in the shade of a modest wooden pavilion.
“Ah, there you are, child!” the Keeper said. “Come here, for there is something I wish to show you.”
Obediently, I went to her, and she took my hand before I could even begin my bow. “No formality. Come! Look at this.”
She drew me to the parapet. It was high, well above my head, but every few paces was a spot where the bricks were arranged in a lattice effect, allowing a view through the wall to the city beyond.
“There! It is beautiful, no?”
I smiled and nodded, but to be honest, it wasn’t the best view of Mesanthia. We were looking east, away from the graceful domes and spires of the city itself, away from the golden roofs and thousand windows of the Imperial Tower, even away from the main gardens of the Keeper’s Isle. A short distance below us was the wide expanse of the river bed, the bare stone lining it dull with wind-blown sand. Beyond, the low buildings where the workers lived.
“What do you think?” she said, but I had no idea how to answer her.
“Don’t tease her, Maya,” Zak’s father said, from his seat under the shade. “Make your point.”
She chuckled, and I was aware again of that bond between them, the deep affection of lifelong love. “Very well. Let us speak plainly. There before you is the heart of Mesanthia, the source of all that is good and strong in our culture.”
“The river?”
“Exactly. It gave strength to the Empire, and now it defines our weakness. For two centuries we have looked at that river of dust, waiting and hoping to see it filled with water again. Some of us would be happy to wait another two centuries, and two more after that. We carefully maintain the stonework and bridges, we keep it free of sand and weeds. It has always been a matter of pride that the river might return on any day, at any hour, and not find us unprepared.”
She paused, and Zak’s father brought a glass of fruit juice to her, pressing it into her hand. She sipped, her hand shaking. I didn’t need to look into her mind to see the distress there.
“If only we could take it back by force. We still have an army, after all. We have Zakkarvyn’s ragged band of rebels.” She shrugged. “Three times that has been tried, and we know how that ended. We were strong once, but no more. So we wait, always we wait. We cannot build more aquaducts without Tre’annatha compliance, we cannot force Hurk Hranda to give up their grasp on the river, we cannot do anything but wait. Meanwhile, we pay dearly for what little water we have. The treasury is almost exhausted.”
“What?” I could hardly believe it, yet I could see the truth in her. “The fabled gold of Mesanthia? Where has it all gone?”
“Keeping the army at full strength. Keeping the river bed and canals clean. Keeping the gardens green. Keeping us all in food and wine and spoons for our rice. We grow little and make nothing. There are many who say we depend too heavily on those who come to look at our architecture, to admire our art, to learn from our scholars. We must turn our hands to making things, they say.”
“The eastern alliance.” My voice was filled with disgust. The three eastern cities, the black triangle, as they were known, had grown rich by digging underground and burning noxious stones to power their mills and craft halls. “We must never follow that lead. Surely we should be aiming higher than that?”
She smiled at my vehemence. “I am glad that you understand. I agree with you, but many look to the east for inspiration now. The river will never run again, they say. And all those canals connected to it – empty and useless. They could be made productive.”
“Ah, the tunnels scheme.” I’d heard my father talk about it, the plan to roof over the disused canals and turn them into workshops and houses. “It has been talked of for ever. It never comes to anything.”
“Indeed. And it cannot, not without the Keeper’s blessing, and no Keeper has ever supported the idea. But the pressure is greater now that our funds are so depleted. Your uncle has managed to get all the Highest families on his side, and they have found a way to guarantee it. When they meet to decide on their candidates for the Choosing, they will only select those who support the tunnels. Whoever the next Keeper is, she will approve it, the canal gates will be permanently sealed and that will be the end of the matter. And then we will be allied to the east, and the Empire will be lost for ever.”
“The Keeper is guided by the Spirit,” I said. “Whatever her thoughts beforehand, she must consult the Spirit before making any decision. If the Spirit i
s against it…”
She waved a hand dismissively. “It is not that simple. The words of the Spirit bear many interpretations. If the new Keeper has already made up her mind…”
“As Keeper, you can select a candidate, too, and the Spirit will choose the one best suited to lead. Besides, the Choosing is not till the spring. So long as the river runs by then, the canals will be full and the scheme will be abandoned.”
“Ah. Not quite. Normally, the Choosing is in the spring, when Drayzor is in conjunction with the moon. But this year the astronomers tell us there will be a conjunction with Krelyon, and the Choosing must align with that. It is most unlucky, but there is nothing we can do.”
“Unlucky indeed.” Krelyon was a wildly erratic moon, and rarely seen. “How much time do we have?”
“A little over one moon, that is all. The Choosing will be at the next brightmoon.”
“Oh. Then I shall have to be quick.”
The Keeper beamed at me, patting my arm, but my heart quailed. My task was difficult enough as it was, without such a tight time limit. And if we failed, the Mesanthia I knew and loved would be lost for ever.
~~~~~
That evening, Zak was still absent, but the Keeper had invited Xando and Renni to eat with us. We sat in formal splendour in one of the many ornate rooms that filled the public side of the Keeper’s Tower, a host of liveried servants in attendance, the food elaborate and designed to impress. The contrast with the relaxed family meal the night before was striking, and I was again surprised by just how much I was treated as a friend and not merely a guest.
Xando was troubled, I could see that. He ate little, watching me constantly, and as soon as the servants withdrew the questions began. Was I all right? Why had I not been to visit him? What did my uncle have to say? Why had I not even emerged from the Keeper’s Tower? And much more besides, which made it clear that he was very well informed.
I was fond of Xando, in a way, and I would always be grateful for his help at Twisted Rock, but demons, he was irritating sometimes. He seemed to think he owned me. When I skirted round his questions, he got quite annoyed with me. Well, as annoyed as Xando ever got.
“I am concerned about you,” he would say, his face creased with anxiety. “I care about you, Allandra.”
It was hard to be polite to him, and I’m sure the Keeper noticed that. Sometimes, when I got tetchy, she jumped in with some innocuous remark to divert the conversation.
Renni was unnaturally subdued, answering monosyllabically when asked a question, but silent otherwise. But her mind was more settled than usual, I was pleased to see. Perhaps a little time alone with Xando was all she’d needed.
Zak eventually appeared, so dishevelled he looked as if he’d just emerged from a Graendar brothel, to the amusement of his parents. He bowed to them, smiled at me and nodded casually to Renni and Xando.
Renni ignored him, but Xando practically hissed at him. “You are disrespectful to the Keeper, appearing in such attire. What do you think you are about? You should be taking care of Allandra.”
“Oh, she can take care of herself perfectly well,” Zak drawled, his mind bubbling with merriment.
“Stop it, Xando!” I said. “Zak has business to attend to. Clearly, he has his own methods for that.”
“He should be—”
“Enough! Don’t tell us what we should be doing. It’s tiresome.”
He pursed his lips as if he’d taken a mouthful of sour fruit. “You do not want my advice, but I would be irresponsible not to give it anyway, for your own sake. I have been giving thought to your plans, and I am concerned about the consequences.”
“The consequences?” I said. “You mean the possibility that we might have our water back?”
“And what happens after that? You have not considered all the ramifications. The Hrandish will not take kindly to your actions. They will see it as an act of aggression, and before we know it, we will be in the middle of a war.”
His eyes were wide with alarm, his tone full of doom. I had to struggle to suppress my laughter.
“Demons, you are so innocent, sometimes. The dragon cannot fly without first breaking the shell. Of course we will have war, what else did you expect? That is my sole purpose, the entire point of my plan. I am going to single-handedly wage war on the Hrandish.”
40: Betrayal
For a second night, Zak padded alongside me through the darkened corridors as we returned to our rooms. I was too tense to enjoy his closeness, too cross with Xando. Innocence was all very well, but how could he be so politically unaware? Surely he must understand what had to be done?
But there was no dishonesty in him. He was truly horrified at the prospect of war. Yet surely even the Tre’annatha knew enough history to realise how precarious the peace was? The Hrandish gloated over us in their triumph, and we for our part deeply resented the need to be polite to savages. Our friendship was as flimsy as the paper and silk screens they used to divide their houses.
I didn’t have to persuade Zak into my room tonight. As I opened the door, he followed me in, sending the servants fluttering from the room. He went straight to the side-table where the wine stood, and poured two glasses.
He held one glass out to me, and raised the other in a toast. “To war.” His face was serious, and although there was excitement in his mind, it was muted.
We drank, and then sat in the same seats as yesterday, close enough to talk but not so close that he might feel pressured. I was very conscious of his nearness now. I was always aware of him, but when he turned his full attention on me like this, it made me dizzy with happiness.
“I hadn’t realised quite how things were between you and Xando,” he said. “Not until yesterday, when you explained how it came about at the mine. That it was just… a convenience. It was so obvious today, in the way you talked to him. A nuisance, you called him, and I can see that now.”
“You couldn’t before? I never made any secret of it.”
He smiled, his teeth gleaming. “I suppose I’d made up my mind how things were, and I didn’t like to admit I was wrong. I’m sorry. I put you under unnecessary pressure.”
I acknowledged his apology with a small bow. Inside, I was exultant. Finally, he understood! Perhaps now he would also realise that he was the one I loved, after all. And in his mind, curling like fronds of smoke around the perpetual amusement at life, was just a hint of desire.
I needed to build on that. I leaned forward. “Will you come with me? To Hurk Hranda?”
“Of course.” His eyes shone. “I’ve said I will. Everything is ready here, my people know what to do. My place is there, organising what you need.” He drained the rest of his wine in one mouthful.
“I don’t need anything organising,” I said, amused. “Not for me. It’s the foreign quarter that will need your help, when things get difficult.”
“I have a group there to manage that. My role is to help you. Xando is right about that, I should be taking care of you.”
He moved across to the table to refill his wine glass, but this time he stayed standing, leaning against the table, the wine forgotten, watching me intently.
I shook my head, amused by this sudden interest in my welfare. “No, you were right, I can take care of myself. Besides, I’m the only one who can do what has to be done.”
The intensity of his gaze was making me restless. I jumped up and refilled my own glass. He was too near, now, close enough that I could almost feel the heat of his body. Close enough to touch. I daren’t risk it, but I was too unsettled to sit down. Spinning away from him, I came to rest a few paces away, my back against the cool solidity of a marble pillar.
He took a step nearer. “But you don’t have to do it alone. I think you do need someone to take care of you…” Another step towards me. “In some ways, anyway.”
I had no argument at all with that idea. Hands shaking, I set my glass down before I dropped it. When I looked up again, he was no more than two paces away fro
m me, his eyes fixed on mine. I had no need to see inside his mind to know what filled his thoughts.
“Do you want me to take care of you, sweet lady?” he whispered.
I couldn’t speak a word, couldn’t move, but I didn’t need to. My eyes gazed into his, mesmerised, and my lips were already half-parted for his kiss. He surely must have heard my heart thundering.
Another step. His hand reached for me, one finger tracing a line down the side of my face. It wasn’t the fire of hassalma, but it burned into my soul just the same. I closed my eyes, a soft moan escaping my lips. I was far beyond any resistance, but even so, I stayed motionless as he moved nearer and nearer. The male scent of him surrounded me, then his lips fluttered across my cheeks, my nose, my lips, and finally the heat of his firm body pressed against me.
His kiss was hard and urgent, pushing me back against the pillar.
“Fast or slow?” he whispered. His fingers stroked my neck, my throat and on downwards, making me shiver with delight.
“Fast.” I pulled his head down for another gloriously long kiss. “And then slow.”
I felt, rather than heard, his answering rumble of laughter.
He took me at my word, peeling me out of my clothes in a few heartbeats. I watched, breathless with longing, as he tossed his own aside, his skin gleaming in the lamplight. Without pause he was inside me, his face buried in my neck, muffling his groans. Finally we were together, a joining so overwhelmingly right and true, like two dragons twining necks to fly in perfect unison. I opened my mind to his surging desire, and let him propel me to that magical place where nothing else existed but the two of us.
After that, he carried me through to the bedroom and made slow, leisurely love to me, and it was just as good. And when I whispered in his ear that I loved him, he smiled and kissed me again, and the world was a wonderful, wonderful place.
~~~~~
Waking beside Zak the next morning was one of those unforgettable moments that made all my struggles, the sacrifices and griefs of my life, worthwhile. I emerged from the depths of sleep, my mind still befuddled, to see his beloved face a handspan away. And he was smiling at me! How many times had I lain wakefully in my bed, and longed to have him there beside me. I would have settled for less than this, for a small share of his attention sometimes. Now my heart surged with joy to see that smile, his eyes filled with affection. What had he called me? His sweet lady.
The Magic Mines of Asharim Page 38