by Clayton, Jo;
With a sudden brazen twang the golden lines broke, snapped back, coiling round and round the Norit until he was helpless in a cocoon of light.
Serroi shoved the tajicho into her boot, slapped at the Domnor’s arm then dived into the passage, Floarin’s raging yells following her. As soon as Hern was through the opening, she tugged the panel shut and slapped the bolts in place. “Keep close,” she hissed and started off into the darkness. Behind her she could hear hoarse shrieks and thuds as someone began pounding at the exit. Hern laughed. She spared a moment to wonder what he was thinking and to be grateful for his quick unquestioning compliance with her commands.
They plunged down and around until Serroi’s legs ached. Down and around, then through the maze of passages on the ground level. The darkness greyed. The still air stirred, blew into her face. Flickering candles lit the last section of this rat hole. She pulled up suddenly as her eye-spot began to throb. Hern slammed into her, knocking her off her feet. “What.…” He caught her shoulder and pulled her up.
“Man ahead,” she whispered. “Sleykyn, I think.”
“One?” His mouth was close to her ear; she could feel the warmth of his breath against her flesh; she was, abruptly, very aware of him.
“Yes.” She was trembling in a way that had little to do with the danger ahead and he knew it. He laughed, a soundless amusement she felt in quick puffs of air caressing her cheek. He caught her chin, turned her face to him, kissed her slowly, sensuously, until she sagged against him. Then her sturdy practicality reasserted itself. She wrenched her head away. “Fool,” she breathed. “Of all the times to.…”
He laughed again, still soundlessly, his chest moving against her breasts. “My turn, little meie. Wait here while I take care of the thing plugging our exit.” He swung his cloak from his shoulders, dropped it over her and was gone before she freed herself.
She leaned against the wall, her nipples tight and sore. I can’t believe this, she thought. Maiden bless, what an idiotic thing to happen. She rubbed at her breasts but found no relief. And I called him a fool.
“Meie.” She started, stared at the figure silhouetted against a faint glimmering coming around the corner, relaxing as she recognized the short broad outline. “Come,” he said, his voice sounding too loud to her.
“Already?”
“Careless, half-asleep. No problem. Sleykynin are damned bad guards. Been one of my men, I’d have him flogged.” He touched her cheek. “About over. That bed’s waiting. Ready?” When she nodded, he lifted a hand and moved his fingertips across her eye-spot with a gentleness that startled her. “Any more ahead of us?”
She caught his hand and pulled it down. “You distract me.”
“Mmmmh.”
“Hah! That’s no compliment.”
“Point of view, little one.”
“My name’s Serroi.” She freed her hand, pulled away from him and started toward the exit. The Sleykyn was around the corner, sprawled on the stone under a guttering candle. She stepped over his legs and trotted on, anxious to get out of the passage.
The rain was coming down in sheets. Serroi stopped in the wall opening, catching the heavy cloak close to her body. “The Gather is complete,” she said quietly.
Hern’s hand dropped on her shoulder. “Now the Scatter.”
Serroi rested her cheek a moment on his hand then stepped out, lifted her face to the rain, letting the cold water bite away some of her fatigue. “Keep close,” she said. “I’m taking a long way to the tavern. Don’t want to bring Floarin down on Dina’s uncle.” Don’t want you to know too much either. She moved quickly across the garden, firmly shutting out memories of the last time she’d been here with Tayyan, helped in that by the rain that blanked out everything but the cold wet roar of its fall.
Outside the wall the rain slanted more, the wind driving it into them as they stumbled through puddles, sloshing the scummy water over boot tops. Serroi moved through a maze of side streets and alleys, deliberately choosing a complicated route to the tavern, nearly losing herself before she found the dark decaying structure.
The tavern was almost afloat, water a foot deep lapping at the walls. She splashed across the street, mounted the stairs and tugged at the bell pull. The Domnor was close behind her. She could smell the damp wool of his cloak, could feel his solid body, though he wasn’t touching her. The wind was howling, the rain hissing down. Biting at her lip, her hand flat on the door, she hesitated, then she twisted around, slid a hand behind his neck, pulled his head down until his ear was close to her lips. “He thinks I’m a boy,” she said. “Let me do the talking.”
“Right.” She sensed rather than heard his chuckle. He turned his head farther, kissed her lightly.
She pulled back. “Idiot!”
The door swung open. Hern put his hands on her shoulders, turned her around and pushed her inside, following close behind her, hand on the hilt of his sword.
Coperic was waiting in the dim red glow of the single lantern. He looked sourly at them, cradling a crossbow in his arms. “Where you been, boy?” He scowled at the dark figure beside her. “Who’s that?”
“A man who needs a room and can pay for it.”
“Pay? How much?” Coperic leaned forward, peering at the Domnor, trying to make out his features. “Ain’t no inn, this.”
“He don’t want an inn, uncle. Three decsets the night?”
“Can’t he talk for himself?” Coperic shrugged. “No matter, it’s enough.”
“I’m wet to the skin and freezing, uncle. Let us up.”
Coperic stepped back, waved them past and followed them up the creaking stairs. Serroi pushed open the door to her room. A single candle burned on the table, only an inch high now, the flame flickering and uncertain. She smiled affectionately at it. Dina. Still trying to take care of me.
The Domnor looked around. “Hole is right.”
“Don’t like it, then git,” Coperic snarled.
Shrugging, the Domnor crossed the room, swung the chair around, sat. He let his cloak fall, slipped the pouch strap off his shoulder, dipped into the pouch and pulled out the three decsets. He tossed them one by one onto the bed.
Coperic ignored him. “Talk with you, boy. Outside.”
Serroi nodded. Outside in the hall she led the way to Coperic’s filthy hole. He followed her in, dusted off a chair, watched as she shut the door. “Why bring him here? What happened?”
“You know who he is?” She dropped into the chair, crossed her legs, smiled up at him.
“Damn right I do. What the hell were you thinking about bringing him here?”
“Far as he knows, you’re Dina’s uncle, a disreputable tavern keeper.” She pushed at her hair, plucked at her sodden clothing. “Maiden bless, I’m tired. Pero, things sort of blew up in my face. Floarin has the Plaz, the whole city, for all I know. The Nearga-nor owns the Daughter.”
Coperic tossed the crossbow onto the tumbled bed. “I see. You’re loose now. What are you going to do?”
“Get out of Oras. Nothing more I can do here.” Her mouth twitched into a brief weary smile. “Take care of yourself, Pero. Don’t hang around here out of stubbornness or because you happen to like taking crazy chances. They’re going to be bad, these next few years.” She laughed at the wry twist of his face, then said with a forced vigor, “Get me a boat and supplies. I want Dina and me out of the city before sunup.”
“Ready and waiting.” His thin mouth curved into a smile as he waved at the wall. “You can go out through there, down a rope ladder. Boat don’t look like much, but she’s a goer.” He jerked his head toward the hall. “What about him?”
“Don’t worry, Pero, I won’t leave him on your hands. If he’ll come, I’ll take him south with me. South to the Biserica. Maiden bless, that sounds good—going home. I’m so damned tired of scrambling.” She started toward the door. “The sooner we get away the better. Floarin was having twenty fits last time I saw her.” She paused in the doorway, tugged at her ragge
d, sodden trousers. “I was going to change. No point in that, I suppose, just get soaked again.” She raised an eyebrow. “Any chance of some hot cha?”
Coperic chuckled. “Get your party on its feet; I’ll see to a warm meal. And collect a damned good fee from our distinguished guest.”
Laughing together, they started back down the hall.
THE CHILD: 14
Serroi stroked her palm over the leathery shell, feeling a quiet joy as the foal moved under her hand. Across the stall, the mare craned her neck around, uneasy because her egg was near to hatching. She’d been fighting the sling for days; Serroi was there to keep her from hurting herself in her agitation. The mare kicked at the partition with her uninjured foreleg, waggled the splinted one, began swaying in dangerous arcs that came close to pulling her off her hind feet and that made the supporting beam groan as her shifting weight put new pressures on it. Serroi jumped to her feet and ran to her, soothing her with voice and eye-spot. Whispering soft nonsense, she scratched at the loose skin under the mare’s chin until she calmed a little, patted and scratched her a little longer, then returned to the egg.
When she touched the leathery sac, it leaped under her hand. Behind her the mare began kicking and groaning, wanting to get to her egg. Hastily Serroi dug it out of the nest of blankets and straw and staggered with it across the stall. She set it down on the straw under the mare’s nose, knelt beside it, holding it steady as a small yellow tooth drove through the tough skin. The egg ripped apart and the tiny foal tumbled out, kicking clumsily with all four feet, the curved egg-tooth like a tiny horn in the middle of its soft nose. A moment later it was staggering onto wobbly legs, falling, staggering up again. It whimpered, a high hooting whinny, its head moving blindly about, searching for the mother just in front of it.
The mare was hooting desperately, stretching her neck trying to reach down to the hatchling. Serroi wrapped her arms about the foal’s velvety trembling body and lifted it until mother and son could nuzzle each other. When her back got tired, she set the foal on its feet and urged it along the mare’s body until it found the teat and began suckling eagerly. She brushed herself off and sat back on the straw, deeply content as she watched mare and foal.
As the afternoon waned, she began to wonder if her teacher would remember to send her something to eat; she was getting very hungry. The foal was curled up beside her, its head on her thigh. She moved her fingers along its neck over skin softer than new spring grass, chuckling at the silly grin on the new face. “You’re glad enough to be out of that egg. Right, funny face?”
She heard soft steps coming toward the stall and looked up to see a tall skinny blonde stopping outside. She had scraped knees, a tear in the sleeve of her tunic, a bit of tape on her nose—and a basket over one arm. She grinned, hung the lantern she carried on its hook, and strolled into the stall. Bending with an awkward grace, she set the basket beside Serroi, straightened. “You’re the new one?”
Serroi nodded.
Her hard blue eyes softening, the girl knelt beside the foal, holding out a long narrow hand for it to smell. Very slowly she edged the hand close enough to touch the quivering nose, finally stroked it until the little macai honked its pleasure in a series of treble squeaks. Blue eyes dancing, the girl settled crosslegged in the straw facing Serroi. “My name’s Tayyan. Haven’t been here long either. Where you from?”
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CHAPTER I:
THE MIJLOC
Tuli sat up, shoved the quilts back, annoyed at being sent to bed so early. Like I was a baby still. She ran her fingers through her tangled hair, sniffed with disgust as she glared at the primly neat covers on her oldest sister’s bed. Hunh! If I was a snitch like Nilis.… She wrinkled her nose at the empty bed.… I’d go running off to Da ’nd tell him how she’s out panting after that horrid Agli when she’s s’posed to be up here with us. She eyed the covers thoughtfully, sighed, stifled an impulse to gather them up and toss them out the window. Wasn’t worth the fuss Nilis would create. She drew her legs up, wrapped her arms around them and sat listening to the night sounds coming through the unglazed, unshuttered windows and watching as the rising moons painted a ghost image of the window on the polished planks of the floor.
When she thought the time was right, she crawled to the end of the bed, flounced out flat and fished about in the space beneath the webbing that supported the mattress until she found her hunting clothes, a tunic and trousers discarded by her twin. She wriggled off the mattress, whipped off her sleeping smock, threw it at her pillow, scrambled hastily into her trousers, shivering as she did so. She dragged the tunic over her head, tugged it down, resenting the changes in her body that signaled a corresponding change—a depressing change—in the things she would be allowed to do. She tied her short brown hair back off her face with a crumpled ribbon, her eyes on her second oldest sister placidly asleep in the third bed pushed up against the wall under one of the windows. Sanani’s face was a blurred oval in the strengthening moonlight, eyelashes dark furry crescents against the pallor of her skin, her breathing easy, undisturbed.
Satisfied that her sister wouldn’t wake and miss her, Tuli went to the window and leaned out. Nijilic TheDom was clear of the mountains, running in and out of clouds that were the remnants of the afternoon’s storm. The Scatterstorms were subsiding—none too soon. It was going to be a bad wintering. Tuli folded her arms on the windowsill and looked past the moonglow tree at the dark bulk of the storebarn. Her back still ached from the hurried gleaning after the scythemen—everyone, man woman child, in the fields to get the grain in before the rain spoiled yet more of it. With all that effort the grain bins in the barn were only half full—and Sanani said Gradintar was one of the luckiest. And the fruit on the trees was thin. And the tubers, podplants, earthnuts were swarming with gatherpests or going black and soft with mold. And there wasn’t enough fodder for the hauhaus and the macain and they’d have to be culled. She shivered at the thought then shoved it resolutely aside and pulled herself onto the sill so she sat with her legs dangling, her bare heels kicking against the side of the house. She drew in a long breath, joying in the pungency of the night smells drifting to her on the brisk night breeze—straw dust from the fields, the sour stench of manure from the hauhau pens where the blocky beasts waited for dawn milking, the sickly sweet perfume from the wings of the white moths clinging to the sweetbuds of the moonglow tree. Grabbing at the sides of the window, she tilted out farther and looked along the house toward the room where her two brothers slept.
Teras thrust his shaggy head out, grinned at her, his teeth shining in his sun-dark face. He pointed down, then swung out and descended rapidly to wait for her in the walled garden below.
Tuli wriggled around until she was belly-balanced on the sill, felt about for the sigil stones set in the plaster. Once she was set, she went down almost as nimbly as her brother, though the tightness of the tunic hindered her a little. At about her own height from the ground she jumped, landing with bent knees, her bare feet hitting the turf with a soft thud. She straightened and turned to face her brother, fists on her narrow hips, her head tilted to look up at him. Two years ago when they were twelve she’d been eye to eye with him. This was another change she resented. She scowled at him. “Well?”
“Shh.” He pointed to the lines of light around the shutters half a stride along the wall. “Come on.” He ran to the moonglow tree, jumped and caught hold of the lowest limb, shaking loose a flutter of moths and a cloud of powerfully sweet perfume.
Tuli followed him over the wall. “What’s happening?” she whispered. “When you signaled me at supper.…” She glanced at the dark bulk of the house rising above the garden wall. “Nilis?”
“Uh-huh.” He squinted up at the flickering moons. “TheDom’s rising. Plenty of light tonight.” He started toward the barns, Tuli running beside him. “Nilis was sucking up to that Agli down by the riverroad a bit after the noon meal.” He
kicked at a pebble, watched it bound across the straw-littered earth. “She caught me watching and chased me, yelling I was a sneak and a snoop and she’d tell Da on me.” He snorted. “Follow her, hunh! Maiden’s toes, why’d I follow her?” He dragged his feet through straw and clumps of dry grass as they rounded one of the barns and started past a hauhau pen. Tuli slapped her fingers against the poles until several of the cranky beasts whee-hooed mournfully at her. Teras pulled her away. “You want to get caught?”
“Course not.” She freed herself. “You haven’t told me where we’re going or why.”
“Nilis and the Agli they were talking about a special tilun, something big. That was just before she saw me and yelled at me so I don’t know what. She sneaked off yet?”
Tuli nodded. “Her bed’s empty.”
Teras grinned. “We’re going to go, too.”
“Huh?” She grabbed at his arm, pulling him to a stop. “Nilis will have our heads, ’specially mine.”
“No. Listen. Hars and me, we were looking over the home macain to get ready for the cull. I got to talking with him about tiluns ’nd things, Nilis being on my mind, you know, and about the Followers ’nd everything and he said there’s some big cracks in the shutters, they put the wood up green and the Scatterstorms warped th’ zhag out of ’em. Anyone looking in from outside could see just about everything going on.” He grinned again, skipped backward ahead of her, hands clasped behind his head. “I think he watched them the last time he took off to Jango’s, anyway he said they get real wound up, roll on the floor, confess their sins ’nd everything.” Pupils dilated until his pale irids were only thin rings, his eyes gleamed like polished jet. “Maybe Nilis will be confessing tonight.” His foot snagged suddenly on a clump of grass; he tottered, giggling, then caught his balance.