Tathea

by Anne Perry

  Itureus put his arm round her. “My dear, he is only concerned for his responsibility.”

  She glanced at him with a smile, then back at Tathea. “Come, let me show you the room where you may change and where you may sleep, if the wind allows it.” She turned to Ishrafeli. “Would you like a woolen tunic and cloak also?”

  They were in what was apparently the main room of the house. It was wide and light with a stone hearth in it surrounded by gray and white marble, bare and clean but possessing a beauty of texture on which ornament would have been superfluous. The walls were a shade of blue as indefinite as the evening sea, but the color was warmed by the deep bronze of the hangings and the reflection of the firelight.

  “Thank you,” Ishrafeli accepted. Then he looked at her curiously. “Is this really a worse storm than usual?”

  “I doubt it.” She shook her head and lifted one shoulder in a dismissive little gesture. “It is merely that in the heart of the summer we forget what they are like. Patro is new, and he is nervous. He will learn ...” she glanced at her husband, “if he is allowed to. Come, please. Itureus will show you your room, and I will take Tathea. Then you must have something to eat. It has been prepared for nearly an hour.”

  She led Tathea up shallow wooden stairs to a room at the top of the house. It seemed to be a kind of turret with windows on three sides, full of white wood and blue light, as if the sky enveloped it. The floor was carpeted in woven sea grasses, bleached by salt and wind to almost the color of bone. The only ornaments were great shells with hollow hearts of primrose and gold. Dulcina brought her a soft cream woolen robe and tunic and leather shoes and left her to put them on.

  When Tathea went downstairs again, she found Ishrafeli already there and Itureus standing by the window looking up at the sky, his brow furrowed, his mouth pulled tight.

  “It always whines like that,” Dulcina said. Her hand rested on the shoulder of a small boy of perhaps four or five years. His hair was fair like hers, but he had the steady eyes of his father. The slender nape of his neck and his narrow shoulders caught Tathea with a thrust of searing pain for Habi. For a moment she was paralyzed with grief. She could not draw her breath, her heart was tight inside her, and the hurt was beyond bearing. The room dissolved around her and she was in the palace again in the desert night, Habi lying in her arms.

  “Does it?” the child asked, his voice cutting through her thoughts. He looked from one to the other of them. “Elnid said it was worse than ever before.”

  “Nonsense, Kori,” his mother said reassuringly. “Patro will make sure that all is well. There is no need to be frightened. And this time your father will be with us to look after us here at home.”

  Tathea tried to regain her composure and return to the present.

  Kori looked up at Itureus.

  “Of course,” Itureus answered, his face softening. “But before the storm strikes, we must go and bring all the animals in. The sheep are still out along the shore. I must help with that.”

  “Can we help too?” Ishrafeli offered quickly. “It is a small return for your hospitality.”

  Itureus did not hesitate. “Thank you. All hands are welcome.”

  Ishrafeli looked at Tathea. He could know nothing of what was inside her. None of these people could. She must hide it, go forward and find what she had come to seek, the meaning, and the value to it all. She could not go backward. Was there somewhere ahead which would fulfill the sage’s promise? She had to believe it ... for Habi’s sake! She must know ... for him.

  “Yes ... of course.” Her voice was hoarse. Ishrafeli looked at her curiously, but he did not ask, and she could not tell him.

  First they ate. Tathea was surprised that she could. Then she put on a heavy cloak Dulcina offered her and went obediently with Itureus and Ishrafeli out of the house and back towards the city, where they found Patro. His young face was anxious until he saw Itureus. Then his face ironed out and he straightened up, as if a leaden weight had slipped from his shoulders.

  “The wind has dropped!” he said with a catch in his voice. “That means it will break soon—doesn’t it?”

  “Perhaps tonight,” Itureus agreed, putting a hand lightly on Patro’s arm. “Don’t worry, you will know what to do. You’ve seen many storms before and helped me often enough. Now we must get the animals in. I will take the south shore. Ishrafeli and Tathea will help me. You see to the harbor wall. There are many sandbags to be placed yet.”

  “I know, I know.” Patro ran his fingers through his hair distractedly and turned away.

  Itureus smiled, but there was no unkindness in it. “Come.” He took Tathea by the arm. “We must find all the beasts or we shall lose them.”

  The air was sharp. The wind scattered wisps of slate-colored cloud like mares’ tails across the cold blue of the sky. As they walked the narrow paths up over the headland, the dry grass rippled and bent as the fingers of the breeze tugged at it. Tathea heard the sound of the surf even before they came over the breast of the rise and saw the long spumes of white roaring up the pale sand, hissing and folding under, sucked back into the dark body of the ocean.

  She drew in her breath in surprise. It was terrible—and beautiful. There was a kind of music in it like the beating of blood. And it was as clean as the beginning of time, before anything had been soiled.

  She lifted her face to the sky. White birds soared across the emptiness of it, sliding and skating through the tunnels of the wind. Suddenly there was a hunger and a hope inside her. She hardly dared acknowledge it, in case it was no more than an illusion.

  Itureus was talking, but his words were drowned by the thundering surf. He waved his arm to the left, and then touched Ishrafeli and pointed to the right where sheep were scattered across the low grass, unprotected from the sea. Ishrafeli nodded, and Itureus went down onto the strand to the left.

  “Come, we are going along there,” Ishrafeli shouted to Tathea, pointing to the pale sand stretching away in front of them to the right where the wind whipped the surf and blew the spray in white manes. He took her arm and they ran and slid down to the shore, all but knocked over by the wind as they came out of the shelter of the hill. It was bitter cold, but the pounding water and the endless roar of the surf filled her with exhilaration, a freedom, almost a unity with the wheeling birds and the torn and streaming clouds driving in from the east.

  Suddenly Ishrafeli began to run, swinging his arms wide, not caring if the wind banged and buffeted him. Tathea hesitated. She wanted to join him, but she could not let go of the grief inside her.

  He was leaving her behind. She ran to join him, skipping over the stones and dark patches of weed, the blood surging and singing in her veins. A nameless laughter beat in her ears, filling her as the wind filled the sky.

  Finally, far along the shore, Ishrafeli stopped and held his arms wide, and she ran to him. He held her, and she clung to him for a wild, wonderful moment, feeling the strength of him flooding through her. Suddenly she was seized by a soaring joy. Anything was possible. Heaven itself was within reach!

  He stepped back and took her hand. His grasp was hard and strong. “Come, we have work to do,” he ordered. “Not a sheep, not a lamb must be lost. If we do not find them all, they will drown.”

  She was happy to obey. It seemed a good and precious thing to do. She was more than willing to walk until her legs ached and her hands and feet were cold and bruised. They worked all day, driving the nimble, long-fleeced sheep inland to the high pastures. They stopped only long enough to sit in the lee of a stone wall and eat the bread and drink the water Dulcina had given them.

  As the light faded they went back to the shore a last time to check that they had left no animal behind. They stood together on the headland as the sun set in a crimson orb behind a furnace of clouds, staining them with a glory of flame and gold crossed by dark, ragged shadows like smoke.

  “It looks like the fires at the end of the world,” she said softly. “Is the storm behind that?�
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  “Yes. It will come before morning,” he answered. The sky reflected red on his smooth cheek and brow. “Patro is right,” he added, putting his arm round her shoulder. “It is going to be worse than ever before.”

  The splendor filled the west until even the air glowed amber and red and the darkened sea reflected like a pewter shield the funeral pyre of the sun.

  She thought of Parfyrion and Cassiodorus and the power of ice and rage within him. The shadow of the Enemy, Ishrafeli had said.

  “Is it anything to do with me?” she asked, and the wind whipped the words from her lips.

  “I don’t know,” he replied, his hand tightening on her shoulder. “But yes, I think so.”

  They reached Itureus’s house as the wind rose to screaming pitch. Garden trees were bent double, branches thrashing. Even wearing thick woolen cloaks, they were numb with cold.

  Dulcina welcomed them, looking quickly from Tathea and Ishrafeli to Itureus, searching his face.

  “All is well,” he assured her quickly. “The beasts are gathered and the people are prepared. The sea defenses are complete.”

  She relaxed and smiled. “I told you Patro would do all that is necessary! There was no need for you to go. Now, you must be hungry.” She included them all in this last remark and led them through to the large room with the bronze hangings. A fire blazed in the hearth, vivid, consuming the wood and dark peat as the wind drew the flame. On the table was a large earthen pot with delicious-smelling steam coming up through holes in its lid.

  They ate companionably but without speaking. The pitch of the wind rose a little higher, and even in this stone-built house and with the leaves dashing against the windows, they could hear the dull boom of the surf on the shore.

  After they had eaten, Tathea helped Dulcina carry away the dishes. She had never done such a thing before, but here it seemed quite natural. These people were the leaders in Bal-Eeya. They had offered hospitality but not service, and she could not comfortably have accepted it.

  “Thank you,” Dulcina said with a smile, washing plates swiftly and putting them away. “You have no idea how different it is for me to have my husband beside me during a storm instead of overseeing everything, worrying about everyone.” She worked with quick, practiced hands, scouring the pot clean. “When it was all over, he would be so exhausted he looked like an old man. No one can bear that responsibility for more than a short number of years. The people asked too much of him, but he would never refuse them.”

  “You must be very relieved now that his term of office is over,” Tathea sympathized, taking the pot from her and drying it.

  Dulcina washed the last bowl and set it on the bench, then turned to face Tathea. “It wasn’t only the time,” she explained. “It was the danger too. In Bal-Eeya we are all used to the power of the sea. We know it can kill at any time and probably will, but the leader always takes the greatest risks. He is the first man to dare the dangers, the last man to leave the barricades, like the captain of a ship. He never commands a man to do something he would not and has not done himself.”

  “But you must be proud of him,” Tathea said earnestly. “Even in the hardest and worst moments ...”

  Dulcina turned away. “I’m glad they’re over. I want him to be here with Kori and me. It is someone else’s turn now.”

  Tathea did not answer. She had no right to judge in a land of which she knew so little. If it could have saved her child’s life, she would have given up the throne of Shinabar without a thought. She wished with all her strength that someone had offered her that choice!

  Dulcina stood very still. Her face was very beautiful, ageless.

  Tathea smiled at her; all thoughts of judgment vanished.

  The tension left Dulcina’s body and, at ease with each other, they returned to the main room.

  Ishrafeli was sitting close to the fire. Itureus lay back in his chair, his eyes closed, as if he were asleep. The lines of worry were smoothed out of his face, and Tathea could see him as he must have been years earlier, before his leadership in the long struggle against the sea. In a way it was like a military campaign, and he the general leading his army against an implacable enemy who never tired, who never sustained losses, and who could not be killed. They might win this or that skirmish, but the war itself would never end. The ashes settled, and Ishrafeli stoked the fire. Outside, the wind shrieked with a thin, piercing sound growing steadily a note higher, a note sharper.

  It was a few minutes before they realized the banging on the door was someone trying to gain their attention rather than simply a branch or flying debris. Itureus opened his eyes and rose to his feet.

  Dulcina stiffened, her expression suddenly wary.

  They heard Itureus unbar the door, and a moment later he returned with Patro, his face whipped and bruised by the wind, his body shivering under his mahogany-brown cloak. He turned to Itureus immediately.

  “It’s already worse than anything last year!” There was fear in his voice, brittle-edged and urgent. “The sea has gouged out great hollows in the shore to the north. It’s almost up to the grass. It will take part of the land, even the low pastures this time!”

  “No, it won’t,” Itureus assured him, leading him further into the room, closer to the fire. “It always looks worse than we remember. The storm carries the sand along to the East Point, but when the wind veers, it brings it back. In the spring the neap tides carry it up and smooth it out. We just forget.”

  Patro shook his head. “I’ve never seen one like this before.” His voice was sharp, a note of panic just beneath the surface. “The water is higher. It’s over the outer wall already, and we don’t know if the wall’s only submerged or has been washed right away.”

  “It’s only submerged,” Dulcina said a little impatiently. She gestured towards the darkness beyond the window. “You couldn’t see anything in this anyway. It always seems worse when you can only half see and there’s such a noise. You’ve watched Itureus scores of times. You know what to do.”

  “The whole of Bal-Eeya stands or falls in this.” Patro’s fear was barely under control; his body was shaking. “I need Itureus’s experience to guide me. He can look at a wall and see its weaknesses where I have to measure and test, and I still might be wrong.”

  “You won’t be wrong!” she answered firmly, her voice steady, her body standing square to his. “You must learn to trust your judgment. If people see you are afraid, they will be afraid too, and that is when accidents happen because fear eats away confidence and decision. This storm is no different from all the storms you have known all your life in Bal-Eeya. It only seems different to you because for the first time you are leading the people, not Itureus.” She moved to stand closer beside her husband and linked her arm through his. It was a familiar gesture, gentle and possessive. “He has earned his right to rest, and I have earned the right to have him with me.” She smiled up at him, then turned back to Patro. “Go and fulfill your destiny, Patro.”

  He drew in a deep breath, shaky, unconvinced.

  Itureus looked quickly at Dulcina, then put out his hand and took Patro’s.

  “She is right, my friend. Your judgment is excellent. The people trust you, but you must also trust yourself. Of course you are afraid. Do you not think I was afraid every time? Afraid of the storm, afraid of the sea, and above all afraid I would let everybody down and others would suffer for my mistakes.”

  Surprise filled Patro’s eyes. “Thank you,” he said warmly. He hesitated a moment. “I still believe this is more than the usual storm, but I will go and do all I can.” He looked quickly at Ishrafeli, then at Tathea. “Good-bye. I hope all is well with you this night.” And he turned and left. Itureus went with him to the door and then barred it behind him against the wind.

  They blew out the lamps downstairs, damped the fire, and crept up to their beds, but sleep was no more than fitful. Tathea lay in her turret room and listened to the high, thin shriek of the wind and the trees thrashing b
elow her. She pulled the soft blankets over herself and drifted in and out of dreams, but always the violence was around her, enormous, threatening, destructive. Sometimes in her confused, half-sleeping mind it was not the elements that tore at the skies and sea, it was multitudinous armies of barbarians, shrieking and howling blind hatred. They threw themselves against the borders of the sane and beautiful world with a madness that would destroy everything made by man. Sometimes it was the great shadow behind Cassiodorus, a darkness that would swallow the light and devour the soul because it hated with a misery that could never end.

  She woke with the sweat cold on her body and found with relief that it was only earthly wind howling in the sky and thundering breakers pounding on the shore.

  As she lay grasping the covers, afraid to close her eyes again in case the nightmares of sleep returned, lightning tore across the sky, and for long, terrible seconds the whole room was lit with a blue, shadowless brilliance. The darkness that followed was more intense, like a cave beneath the earth, and the noise even greater.

  The lightning came again and again. Then there was a crash of splintering glass and a scream ... within the house ... human.

  Tathea threw herself out of bed and without bothering with a blanket or robe, ran from her room and all but fell down the stairs. A single lamp was burning down in the main room but its shadows flickered wildly, though it was covered with protective glass.

  Cold air touched Tathea’s flesh even before she reached the bottom stair. She swung round and saw Dulcina crouched over Kori in front of the shattered window, her face white, her eyes staring desperately through her wild hair.