by Victor Poole
DELMAR CLOSES IN
The man at the counter murmured something to the Thief Lord, and Ajalia saw his shoulders shift to one side. The Thief Lord did not turn around, but a subtle tension traveled up his back, and his legs were not nearly so relaxed. A smile of anticipation tugged at the corners of Ajalia's mouth; she wondered if he would have blue eyes, like his son.
When the business at the counter had concluded, the group of men broke away, and turned around. Ajalia saw the Thief Lord's eyes pass swiftly over her, but he did not openly acknowledge her. She waited. The men within the market stall chatted with each other for a moment, and then began to trickle, one by one, out of the covered space. Ajalia did not move aside; she was standing where the stall opened out into the market, and though she was not in the way, it was not easy to walk past her without meeting her eyes. Several of the men ducked past her, blushing, and nodding quickly. At last only the Thief Lord remained near the counter. He gathered up some papers, and made a fuss of tucking them into his clothes. Ajalia was sure that he wanted her to come into the stall. She waited for him to come to her.
The Thief Lord looked up at Ajalia. She saw that his face was keen; his eyes were sharp, and he had a kindly expression over his face. His eyes were not blue. She did not believe the kindliness was genuine. She had yet to meet a man of power, in a position of governance over others, who was not as hard as a rock under the surface. Her own master was hard, but just, and she did not mind gathering up money and returning it to him. She supported her master, but she had no scruples in manipulating the men she met in her travels, however their eyes twinkled, and however many wrinkles crinkled at the corners of their faces.
The Thief Lord stood up a little straighter, and waved gently at Ajalia, motioning her to come into the stall. Ajalia did not look down at his proffered hand. She stared straight ahead, her gaze impassively taking in the stall, the Thief Lord, and the bright and sunny afternoon.
"Have you come to see me?" the Thief Lord asked. His voice was genial, friendly, and he looked incredibly normal, and approachable.
Ajalia studied his face and his gesture, as he opened his hands a little at his sides. He was very good, she saw. He looked like a great person, and like an upstanding man. You're a slime ball, aren't you? Ajalia asked him in her mind. She let her head dip a little forward in greeting. She raised one hand slightly to the level of her elbow, and wafted her fingers at Philas. Philas took the hint. Leaning close in against Ajalia's ear, he murmured the translation of the Thief Lord's words to her in the Eastern tongue.
Ajalia nodded again, her movements majestic and stately, and spoke to Philas.
"Tell the man I have come to see him," she said softly, almost inaudibly, in the Eastern tongue.
Philas said so to the Thief Lord, in Slavithe, and bent his eyes to the ground respectfully.
Ajalia watched the Thief Lord smile, and then laugh. "I am told," the Thief Lord said, taking two steps towards Ajalia, "that you speak our language quite well."
Ajalia bent her head a fraction, and nodded to Philas.
"My master has learned many of your words," Philas told the Thief Lord, "but it is our way to conduct great affairs in our own tongue."
"Not your tongue, surely," the Thief Lord said to Philas. The Thief Lord's handsome face creased in a cruel smile. "Aren't you from across the sea?"
Ajalia looked at Philas, as though she hadn't understood, and Philas murmured again in her ear. Ajalia bowed deeply, and turned away from the Thief Lord. Philas wheeled at her side, and the tight formation of servants parted and reformed behind Ajalia as she led the way through the market. She could hear the startled outburst from the Thief Lord. He was exclaiming to the Slavithe people, and hurrying after her. The Thief Lord caught up with Ajalia partway through the open street, and came in front of her. His hands were outstretched, and his face was marked with concern.
"Tell your master," the Thief Lord said to Philas, laughing sardonically, "that I meant no offense."
Philas stared coldly at the Thief Lord, and the Thief Lord's laugh faded quickly.
"You look Saroyan," the Thief Lord explained. "We trade with them across the sea."
Ajalia murmured quietly to Philas, and walked away. The slaves followed her. Ajalia strained her ears to hear Philas's words to the Thief Lord.
"My master begs forgiveness in this strange land," she heard Philas say. "He does not understand your ways. He will return at another time."
Philas caught up with Ajalia, and strode quietly at her shoulder. Ajalia strode slowly through the market. She hoped that the Thief Lord would catch up with her again; she did not want to seek him out at his own house. She heard the patter of footsteps, and the Thief Lord appeared before her once more. The jocular expression had evaporated from his face, and his features were twisted with annoyance.
"Tell your master I apologize," he told Philas in a hard voice. His eyes were fixed angrily on Ajalia's face, and Ajalia saw that the Thief Lord meant to make her pay for her impudence. She listened to Philas translate the words, and then allowed a gracious smile to spread over her cheeks.
Ajalia's master had a very special smile; he held his face in such an impassive mask, that when he did smile, it was as though bright springtime showed through a bleak gloom. Ajalia had practiced this smile for many hours by herself, and it had taken her months to achieve a believable facsimile. There was something childlike, and joyous in her master's smile, a kind of brilliant delight that was contagious. His smile was her master's greatest negotiator, and Ajalia turned that smile now onto the Thief Lord without reserve.
She saw his eyes change; the lines of annoyance smoothed, almost imperceptibly, away from his forehead, and a ghost of a smile passed over his mouth. Ajalia spoke to Philas, and nodded graciously at the Thief Lord.
"My master regrets the customs that forbid him from using your own delightful tongue," Philas said, "and he wishes to observe and honor the customs of your own land by offering a sacrifice at the great feast you hold tomorrow."
Ajalia watched the Thief Lord closely, and she was gratified to see a look of incredulous delight slip into his eyes. The Thief Lord's face did not light up, but Ajalia did not miss the thought that passed visibly over his face. Delmar had been right, Ajalia thought. The Thief Lord thought that she was about to offer him silks. Ajalia thought of the Thief Lord's wife, the woman with the long brown hair, and she smiled once more.
"I would be delighted to receive such an offering," the Thief Lord said, "on behalf of the city of Slavithe, and I would rejoice to see you join in our festival."
Philas translated this speech to Ajalia, and she nodded, her face once more an impassive mask. She spoke briefly to Philas, and bowed respectfully to the Thief Lord. Philas made one last speech, bidding the Thief Lord farewell, and paying him honor, and the two sides parted. Ajalia could feel the silent bodies of her slaves, as they followed her solemnly from the meeting, and she could hear the laughter that erupted behind her, when she had progressed partway through the market. She was sure that the Thief Lord was boasting to the others of the offering she had suggested.
"What an awful man," Philas said mildly, when they had gone some way through the market, and were out of earshot.
"Sloppy, but effective," Ajalia agreed. They were speaking in the Eastern tongue, and Ajalia was aware of the slaves that were listening in behind them. She kept her face forward, and maintained her stately pace. She was sure that Philas was also thinking of the slaves, because he did not say any more. They walked in silence through the market, and out of the entrance into the residential district.
"Should we let them go?" Philas asked Ajalia softly in Slavithe, when they had passed into the long rows of houses. He meant, should the slaves go away.
"No," Ajalia replied. "Better to make a show."
The slave boy, who had been hanging around the outskirts of the expedition since it had left the little house, disappeared, and reappeared when the procession had come within s
ight of the little house.
"Here," the boy said, thrusting a slim vessel into Philas's hands.
"What's this?" Philas asked.
"Good boy," Ajalia said, and passed the boy a coin.
"Did you tell him to bring me this?" Philas demanded hotly. The stench coming from the vessel told Ajalia that it was more of the foul-smelling black liquid.
"He's an enterprising boy," Ajalia said mildly. "You might as well drink it."
"I won't touch it," Philas said scornfully, but he carried it carefully just the same. Ajalia observed the care with which Philas held the black juice as he opened the door, and held it for Ajalia and the other slaves. When they were inside, he stayed outside and closed the door with a click.
"He doesn't want anyone to see him drinking the stuff," Ajalia told the boy. The other slaves went up the stairs, chatting and loosening their robes.
"I wouldn't be caught dead with that drink," the boy boasted.
"You just carried it through the street," Ajalia pointed out.
"Yes, but I wouldn't drink it," the boy said stoutly.
"Well, don't tease him," Ajalia said. "He's trying."
"He isn't," the boy said. "If he was trying, he'd fetch it himself."
Ajalia thought that the boy was right, but she didn't say so. She untucked the complicated folds of silk over her waist, and began to go up the stairs. The boy followed her.
"What do you want?" she asked the boy.
"I don't have anything to do," he said.
"Do you want something to do?" she asked.
"No," the boy said quickly.
"Because if you follow me around, I'll find something," she warned.
"I don't think Philas likes you," the boy volunteered. Ajalia was sure that the boy was trying to distract her from the idea of giving him a job, but she did not reply. She was sure he was wrong. "He's trying to get you to be in charge, so that he can take the credit for it without doing any of the work," the boy said.
Ajalia turned around the corner, and climbed the last flight to the attic. "Why would he do that?" she asked.
The boy shrugged. "He's lazy, I guess," he said.
"What if he's too much of a mess to be in charge?" she asked the boy.
"Everyone knows you're too nice," the boy said importantly. "Philas is taking advantage of you."
Ajalia looked at the boy. "I'm nice?" she said.
"You are," the boy said. "No one else would give me money to take care of Philas."
"Master would," Ajalia wanted to say, but she held her tongue. She did not know if the boy was right.
"That is only one example," Ajalia pointed out. "And I like you."
"You like everyone," the boy complained. "You even like Lim."
"I do not like Lim," Ajalia said hotly.
"But you take care of him," the boy said. "You know he'd be sold if you took him home, and you're going to place him here, aren't you? Everyone's talking about it."
"You don't know that," Ajalia murmured, but the boy was right. "That doesn't mean I like him," she added.
"And you're letting Philas be in charge," the boy said. "Why are you letting Philas be in charge when he never does anything?"
"Philas does things," Ajalia protested.
"He does not," the boy said. "Have you sat down for more than ten minutes since we got here? You have not," he concluded with triumph.
"I have too sat down," Ajalia said.
"Sleeping doesn't count," the boy said. Ajalia had taken off her face paint, and she unwound the belt of her robes. "Anyway," the boy said, "if you marry Philas, he's going to eat up your soul."
Ajalia laughed, but her heart felt sick. "That's a very dramatic thing to say."
"I wouldn't eat up your soul, if I married you," the boy said. "So I don't see why you should marry Philas."
"I'm not going to marry Philas," Ajalia said.
"But he wants to marry you," the boy said. "He's trying to get under your skin."
Ajalia had to admit to herself that this was true. She combed back her hair, and spun it into a knot on the top of her head. She did not wear her hair down most of the time, and when it was pulled away from her face, the sharp angles of her cut were concealed within the mass of black hair. Her master's hairstyle was one of the distinctive markers of his look, and she tried to reserve it for her official appearances. Ajalia stuck a silver pin through the knot of her hair, and removed the heavy gold ring from her thumb.
"I don't think he wants to marry me," she said.
"Everyone wants to marry you," the boy said. His face was serious, and his voice was level.
"Everyone?" Ajalia asked.
"Yes," the boy said. Ajalia could not believe that this was true. Her boy was often right about many things that she had not considered, but she could not believe that anyone, even Philas, truly wanted to be tied to her for life.
"How do you know?" she asked.
"They talk about you when you aren't there," the boy said. "I wouldn't tell you, except I don't like Philas, and he's going to change you."
Ajalia did not reply to this. She removed her master's silk robes, and tied her own simple clothing back on over her shift. She wanted to ask the boy what the slaves said about her when she wasn't there, but she did not want to make the words with her mouth. She waited, but the boy did not say any more.
"What do they say?" she asked.
The boy shrugged. She could see that he wouldn't tell her.
"You're an easy mark," he said finally. "Anyone can get at your things, if they're nice to you."
Ajalia laughed. "That isn't true at all," she said.
"Yes it is," the boy said. "I'm not very old, but I've got more than you saved up in gold and coins."
"You haven't," Ajalia said, thinking of her hidden caches of money.
"Yes, I have," the boy said.
"How much have you got?" Ajalia asked. The boy said a number, and she smiled. "I've got more than that," she said lightly.
"But you can't get to it," the boy said at once. "Can you? Don't you hide your money?"
Ajalia kept the worry out of her eyes. She had thought that no one knew about her caches.
"I've got my money on me," the boy said. "I can use it, if I need it. When I'm old enough, I'll have enough to buy a wife."
"You're too young to think of a wife," Ajalia said.
"I am not," the boy said. "I'm already twelve. In a few years, I could start a business, and earn my way out."
"No one gets out," Ajalia said.
"Everyone who's clever gets out," the boy snapped. "Everyone knows that except for you. Why don't you get out? You're the cleverest one. Why do you stay?"
Ajalia was going to say that there was nowhere to get out to, but instead she said nothing at all.
"What about Philas?" she asked. "Does he have the money for a wife?"
The boy laughed at her. "Are you serious?" he asked her.
Ajalia swallowed her anger. "Yes," she said.
"Did he tell you that story about being a prince?" the boy said.
"No," Ajalia lied. "What story is that?"
"Some story he tells girls about being the lost prince from Saroyan. It has pirates in it."
"Everyone has a story like that," Ajalia said.
"I don't," the boy said.
"You will," Ajalia told him.
"I think Philas has enough money to buy five wives," the boy said.
"Go find out if Chad is dead," Ajalia told the boy.
"Who's Chad?" he asked, going to the door.
"The Slavithe boy who follows me around," she said.
"You're too nice," the boy shot at her, and ducked out as she lobbed the ring at him. The gold ring clattered against the door, and fell to the ground. Ajalia sighed as she picked it up. She hoped that Gevad had not done permanent damage to Chad, but she did not think that a thorough beating would do the young man any harm.
She stretched, and sighed. She felt suddenly very tired, and she wante
d to slip into sleep. She put her things away, and folded up her master's robe so that it would keep its complicated folds. She put the robe under a covering and went back down the stairs. The slave named Jenna was hanging around on the landing.
"Everyone wants food," Jenna told Ajalia. Ajalia looked at Jenna. "Can I have some money?" Jenna asked.
"Use your money," Ajalia said. Jenna's face fell.
"Why would I use my money?" she complained. "Haven't you got what Lim had?"
Ajalia could feel the weight of the coins lying firmly against her waist. They were too many to fit in her usual bundle, and she had folded them into a long wide piece of fabric that she had wound against her waist to make the coins lie flat.
"No," Ajalia said. "I guess Philas has everything."
"Well, where's Philas?" Jenna complained. Ajalia shrugged.
"Use your money," Ajalia said. She knew that Jenna had sold many of the silk pieces to the Slavithe women, and that she had an abundance of coins. Jenna's face made a kind of unhappy dance.
"But I don't want to," Jenna muttered. Ajalia slipped past her and went down the stairs. Jenna followed her. "Haven't you got some money?" Jenna asked.
"The things were Lim's," Ajalia said. "The profits can be shared with everyone. Go and buy food with it."
"But it isn't fair," Jenna moaned.
"Then I'll take the money and send someone else," Ajalia snapped.
Jenna's mouth squeezed up into a sour bow. "Fine," she said. "Fine."
Ajalia sat down in the main room, and took out her sheaf of papers. She had not had time to look over the list of houses and debts until now, and she was still absorbed in the papers when the front door opened, and Delmar poked his head in. Ajalia did not look up; she thought it would be Philas, or Jenna coming back with the food. She turned over another leaf, and studied the names of the servants she had gotten from Gevad.
Delmar came in, and closed the door quietly. He rocked back on his heels, and stared at Ajalia. She did not look up. She was memorizing the names and amounts owed for each of the Slavithe servants, and she was not paying attention.