by Lori Martin
“What on – oh, Baili, you can’t go. It isn’t a game.”
“I won’t be any trouble! I’ll be very, very good, really I will, but I want to see some Mendales. Please, Rendell?” He looked back at Pillyn. “Oh, please!”
“The boy can come if he wants to,” Boessus rumbled unexpectedly.
Baili’s eyes widened further. He was afraid of the stern old man. “Thank you, sir.”
“With his brother’s permission, of course,” Boessus added. “And if you don’t mind looking after him, Pillyn. I won’t have him under everyone’s feet.”
“Of course not,” Pillyn said, delighted. Rendell smiled as the boy hugged her.
“Father,” he asked, “are you sure about this? Why are you doing it?”
“If the child wants to see a bit of the world and our old enemies, he should. He’ll learn something.” His tone was cold. “You might have yourself. I won’t have you now, trying to nursemaid me, but I can’t see why you didn’t want the chance to get a closer look at our politics.”
“You know someone has to look after the estate.”
“But I’ve got the best overseer on the Hill! It’s a slow time of year. He can handle it.”
Rendell was silent. The overseer was competent, but his own duties were greater than his father realized.
“You should learn some political ways. It’s a useful thing to know.”
“My career’s gone a different way.”
“Well, yes, of course, being an Armasii’s a thing to be proud of,” the old man relented with some haste. “No one’s more proud of you than I am. But a man likes to have his son at his side.”
“Then why not take Temhas? You didn’t even ask him.”
“Watch that trunk!” Boessus shouted at a servant. “You’ll have the lid off in a minute!”
Temhas, who had remained silent, rolled off the windowsill in one long move and stalked from the room. Rendell’s eyes followed his retreating back. Suddenly his father’s voice was back in his ear, pursuing the point.
“And I should think you’ll be bored here with us away. What will you do? What’s the attraction?”
Now it was Rendell’s turn to ignore a question. “All right,” he said loudly to the room. “Let’s get this organized.”
Two days later Boessus’s train of horses stopped before the palace, for last-minute instructions. Many of the servants were accompanying father and daughter, and the train was long. Baili was perched among the baggage in the one crowded cart Pillyn had insisted on bringing. Boessus stood talking quietly to the royals.
“What’s the king telling him, Rendell?”
“Probably nothing of great importance, “Rendell said. Muffled in his green cloak, astride Blackshine, he had offered to go with the train as far as Marlos-An. “They’ve already discussed Father’s duties and settled everything. The trip’s basically a formality to show that our goodwill is unchanged, after the festival. There shouldn’t be any trouble.” He shifted in his saddle.
“That’s what Pillyn told my brother. He didn’t want to let me go at first. What are you looking for? Your eyes are going all around.”
At that moment a flash of yellow came through the palace gates and slipped behind the royals.
“Who’s that?” Baili asked.
“The relas. Father’s being introduced to her. Look, so’s Pillyn. You can go over if you wish.”
“Come with me?”
“I can’t. I can’t talk to her.”
“Why not?”
“She’s a Nialian. I’m an Armasii.”
“Oh.” Baili nodded wisely, understanding immediately. Rendell was forced to reflect that even a child was well aware of the taboo. Baili jumped down from the cart, tried to straighten his clothes, and headed over to the royals.
“Don’t forget to bow,” Rendell called after him.
He watched as the boy sidled up to Pillyn, who was still speaking to Dalleena. After a moment his introduction was apparent, and he doubled so far over in his bow that he almost fell. Pillyn caught him before his chin actually hit the ground. Rendell saw Dalleena’s quick laugh as she spoke to the boy. With her bright clothing and the sparkle of her hair she seemed to be a moment of summer sun in the cold courtyard. How many gifts had the goddess given her? True-chosen, heir to the Chair – even her firedust hair was a special beauty shared by only a handful of any given generation. Every man she meets must react to these things, he thought. But the restless, vibrant spirit moving inside, the quick understanding he had seen in her face – how many appreciated that? He knew himself what it was to bend a swift soul to the duties and rituals of the temple. How much harder for her, with her liveliness and her impatience, already reined in sharply by her position as relas. Somewhere the fire must still be burning.
His father had saddled up; Pillyn and Baili came back to Rendell.
“We’re ready to go,” his sister said, a little out of breath. “Did you see the relas? I’ve never been so close to her. At first I was so nervous –”
“She’s nice,” Baili said.
“– but she did most of the talking – yes, she is nice – and asked about everything, so it was all right.”
“What did she say?” Rendell asked.
“Oh, she asked if we were both going with Father, and how exciting it must be. Baili interrupted her when she said that. You’re never supposed to do that, Bai! I thought she’d get mad, but –”
“I only said my brother didn’t want –”
“–she didn’t, she just nodded, and that’s not the point. She’s royal.”
“Well, I didn’t know –”
“And she asked about you.”
“Oh? What about me?”
“She wanted to know if you were going, too. When I said no she said you probably had too many Armasii duties. I said yes – I could hardly tell her about Father getting angry – but that Temhas was staying home, too. She just said, ‘Oh.’ ” Pillyn paused. “She stopped talking just for a minute, but then she said she was glad she had met us. Imagine the relas being glad to meet me! But I know she has to be gracious.”
“She gave us the blessing,” Baili said. “ ‘May Nialia hold you beloved –’ ”
“And Baili jumped right in and gave the response before I could open my mouth. If you show off like that in front of the Mendales, Father will give it to you.”
“If you two quarrel and tease each other all the way there he’ll give it to both of you,” Rendell said. “Hush, here he comes ... Is everything set, Father?”
“Yes, yes, don’t worry. Pillyn, you’d better mount up again, we’re going. Where’s the boy sitting?”
“In the cart, sir,” Baili said.
“Well, why aren’t you in it? That’s better. Farewell, son. Try and keep that brother of yours in line.”
“We’ll be fine.”
Boessus grasped Rendell’s hands in both of his, leaning over his horse, and Rendell bowed his forehead on them in respect. For a moment the older man’s hands closed tight, then he pulled away and picked up his reins, calling to the entourage. “Ride out!”
“Take care of him, Pillyn. But I know you would without my saying so. Kiss me farewell, both of you.”
“I miss you already,” Pillyn wailed.
“Goodbye!”
“Enjoy yourself, Bai. But stay out of trouble!”
“You too!” the boy giggled. “’Bye!”
As the train moved out, Rendell turned his head briefly toward the royals. For a second his glance flashed across Dalleena’s. Then she turned and went into the palace.
CHAPTER 8
The palace stables were busy as always, though they would be even more so in the spring, when riding was for pleasure as well as business. Linner was the newest of the stable boys, young and very handsome, and a favorite with the serving girls. His friend Traehi, who had been there far longer without half the attention, was patronizing him.
“Now, of course you’ve got to w
atch out with that chestnut,” he was saying. “The three-year-old. Belongs to Councilor Wismer, but her son’s the only one who can ride it.”
“So you told me,” Linner said, gathering up hay. It was almost time to begin feeding.
“Got to keep your eye on him the whole time you’re rubbing him down. Liable to shy or step on you. Even tried to take a nip out of Faerdi the other day, so he says anyway. Now did I tell you about court privileges?”
“Twice.”
“Right. It’s important. You have to know right off the top of your head who’s got palace permission to take royal horses. Not too many, but hard to keep track of. They’re in and out of here all the time. Most of them have their own horses at their estates, not here, so they take the royal ones constantly. A few don’t even have their own at all, like that Lilli, the friend of the relas. And you have to be even more polite to people like that than to the regular councilors or whoever, because if they’re entitled to royal horses then they’re royal-favored.”
“But you said the king has a few no one’s allowed to take but him.”
“Well, of course, and don’t give anyone one of them by mistake! The same with that big black, the one with the white front hoof.”
“He’s a beauty,” Linner said with admiration.
“He’s the relas’s. No one else is supposed to get him. But you know what? She lets that Lilli take him sometimes, if she doesn’t want him herself, but if you ask me the woman’s shy of riding him. He gets the looks. They said this morning the relas would want him today, but she hasn’t been down here yet.”
It was not, in fact, until they had finished filling all the troughs that Dalleena finally came down to the stables. She stood patting the black’s neck as he ate.
“We went ahead and fed him,” Traehi said nervously and unnecessarily. “Thought maybe you’d changed your mind, relas.”
“It’s all right. Let him eat. He’ll need exercise tomorrow, though. Right now I’ll walk and get a little myself. You’re new, aren’t you?”
“Yes, relas,” Linner said, and bowed awkwardly. “My father’s Desja. He works in the gardens.”
“Why yes. I know him. Your mother too, she waits on the queen, doesn’t she? We’re happy to have you.”
“Thank you, relas.” He found himself able to smile at her, staring at her hair. Dalleena smiled back, amused. With looks like that Desja would have a daughter-by-marriage in no time. Traehi caught enough of her expression to be annoyed.
“You’re sure you don’t want to ride, relas? We could – ”
“Thank you, no, Traehi. I’m only going up to the temple.”
“Yes, relas.”
They watched her as she headed toward the First Hill, muffling up against the wind. “She’s been going up there a lot.”
“But I hear she won’t go in the temple much,” Linner said. “Why would she want to go but then not pray?”
“Niala knows. Hey, Linner, look. It’s that rider again.”
For the past few days a heavily cloaked rider had been near the palace, going by at odd hours and without seeming to have any purpose. He never rode into the stable yard or to the palace gates, and they had never seen the guards challenge him.
“I can’t think what he’s after.”
“He must live on the First and just goes by.”
“No, I know most of them,” Traehi said. “And he’s only been by recently. He’s noble-born; that horse is a good one.”
Just then the rider in question came past the thicket of leafless trees that had half-hidden him, giving them a better look.
“Hey,” Traehi said again in surprise. “See that cloak?”
“He’s an Armasii,” Linner said. “Whoever he is.”
Dalleena became aware of the rider by the time she reached the grove at the bottom of the Hill’s path. She had actually been hearing the horse’s movement for several minutes, but now the fact that the sound was following her broke in on her mind. One of the mounted guards, perhaps, who patrolled near Marlos-An. They were under permanent orders from the king to watch after her, when they could do so tactfully and without arousing her annoyance. Dalleena’s insistence on whatever privacy and independence she could snatch usually defeated them.
She started up the slope without turning, changed her mind, and stopped. “It’s all right,” she called over her shoulder “I’m only going to the temple.” There was a silence. The trees were still hiding him.
“Go back to your duties,” she shouted impatiently.
The horse broke out into an open space, giving her a clear view of the rider. He had thrown back his hood. Dalleena stared. He stared back, shame and confusion written on his features.
She could find nothing to say. He nodded curtly and turned his horse, yanking on the reins in a way more familiar to the animal from Temhas. They were gone again, presumably heading for home.
Dalleena did not move. She was remembering similar sounds, similar feelings of someone else’s presence, on many of her recent trips to the temple. It simply had to be that he was following her. She told herself that she was shocked, but the riot of emotions in her chest could not be labeled that easily. What did he want of her?
And what do you want of me? she asked silently when she arrived before the temple. She fidgeted back and forth restlessly. The stable boy’s information had been correct: for all of her trips in the past few weeks she rarely went in. The truth was that she was afraid. She had promised to obey, and now was frightened of receiving the command. And yet, of course, Nialia could come to her anywhere. But the temple stayed quiet. On the Third Hill, the villagers slept in peace and the sacrifices were accepted; only the vines on the altar continued to die. The king had taken the reins of government back into his hands. No word came yet from the travelers to Mendale. Everything human and divine seemed at a standstill.
“Pardon me, relas.” A young novice was standing beside her. She said with shyness, “Inama our mother asks you to come.”
“How does she know I’m here?” Dalleena asked, but they both knew. “Where is she?”
“In the enclosure.” This was a garden behind the temple, used for open-air prayer and as a place to teach the novices their duties. She spotted Inama examining the bare branches of a tree, checking against disease.
“It’s too cold for you out here,” Dalleena scolded.
Inama turned the same inquiring look on Dalleena that she had given the branches. She ignored Dalleena’s comment, as she did any small human preoccupation. It did not even penetrate into her notice. Her great sensitivity, felt not just by the Nialians but by all who had contact with her, was based on an empathy with the heart, and the whispering soul. The whirling, chattering trivia of the mind was not her concern. And she always spoke to the point.
“What is it that’s frightening you, daughter?”
Dalleena sucked cold air into her lungs, wondering how it would be possible to be evasive with the high priestess. The old eyes waited.
“What do you mean, mother priestess?”
“You come here even more often than usual. You help the novices with menial things. You stand in front of the temple for hours. But you never go in. You never pray.” Inama laid a bare hand on her shoulder. She never seems to feel the winter, Dalleena thought.
“Tell me,” the old woman said.
Dalleena’s gifts ran more to prophesy than to a greater-than-mortal empathy, but now she felt the shock of receiving. “Inama!” she burst out. “Why are you so sad?”
A smile came to the priestess’s lips. “Come and walk.” She put an arm through Dalleena’s. “So we’re both asking questions. And if I answer, will it help you?
“Please.”
“All right. I’m unhappy because of what I have seen every night for the past three nights. When I go to the inner sanctuary, Nialia shows me – shows me hard things.”
“What are they?”
“It’s not always clear. Sometimes I see fire burning on th
e Hills. Arrows shooting through smoke. And once I saw the Chair, the Chair of the royals, shattered down the middle. As if it had been struck by lightning.”
Dalleena halted. She looked into Inama’s face, searching for a sign of answering panic.
“But one thing,” the old woman said softly. “One thing I do see very clearly. And it saddens me more than the rest.”
“Yes? Mother Inama, what could be more frightening than –”
“I see you, Dalleena. You. You’re at the center.”
They had passed through the long passage between the First and Second, each slope rising high and graceful. As they passed the border a light snowfall had begun, sinking into the ground and sucking the horse’s hooves into mud. The long miles ran continuously beneath them. Pillyn sat in a daydream, body swaying with the animal’s rhythm. One corner of her mind was alert to any call from her father, who rode several feet ahead of her. The rest of her thoughts were unformed and drifting.
Baili sat in the cart, sticking out his tongue to catch the flakes. It was a wet and unsatisfactory fall, too moist for making snowballs. He had begun the trip in a state of excitement, peering over the head of the driver of the cart hour after hour. Each night in camp he dreamed that the next day would show him Mendale. Now he had begun to despair. He slumped down in the uncomfortable seat he had fashioned from the packcases. Around him the riders moved steadily, the low chatter of the servants broken frequently by laughter. Old man Boessus was deep in discussion with the guide. Baili stuck out his tongue again, this time to see if he could touch his nose. He couldn’t.
With a sigh, he gave himself up to boredom.
In her white sleeping gown and with her feet bare, Dalleena looked down into the dark stairwell. At the bottom the torches were glowing. The guard stood straight and motionless.
She reached over to the door beside her own and closed it soundlessly. She had already shut the inner one that connected the room to her apartments. Inside, her two servants slept on, without stirring.
There was no other way. She crept down the stairs. The guard heard and began to turn, but before he could even finish the movement she said firmly, “Halt.”