by Lara Morgan
Smiling to himself, Azoth trailed his fingers along the rough stone as he walked, feeling the warmth of it as he stretched his mind through it and up, seeking the blood that called to him. Soon, his Arak-si would come to him. She would help him find the ring and he would draw on her to regain some of his power. It frustrated him not to have access to that well of power the Birthstone brought him. Without it he was diminished. He hungered for his Arak-si to restore him.
Nuathin had been very useful, tormenting her, showing her things. If Azoth stretched out his mind he could almost feel her, buried though she was in this city of slaves. Soon she would feel him. Soon she would follow her dreams, seeking help from the old man. Soon she would hear him outside her dreams.
He closed his eyes and dipping into the ether, he called to her again.
25
Tallis woke with a strange feeling of restfulness and energy. Shaan had not gone back to the inn. They had talked well into the night and she had been too weary to return. He looked over at the bed nearby to see if she was awake, but it was empty.
Surprised, he sat up, peering through the gloom of the early morning. The light coming through the window was sparse and grey and the air felt thick with warmth and moisture. Close by, Jared lay quiet and still, but he could not see Shaan. He could feel her though. A stifled, quick breathing came from the corner of the room, and he saw her huddled against the wall, her knees pulled up to her chest. She was awake, her eyes wide and frightened.
‘Shaan!’ He sprang from the bed and went over to her, the floor cool beneath his bare feet. ‘What is it?’ He kneeled down.
She blinked, as though just realising he was there. It was warm in the room, but she was shivering.
‘Shaan.’ He tried again, speaking quietly as though to calm a child. She didn’t respond and he put a hand under her arm, pulling her up.
‘Come.’ He guided her over to the bed and she didn’t resist, moving half crouched over as though she were an old woman.
He sat beside her, calling her name several times before she turned to look at him. Her gaze flickered as she focused.
‘What’s wrong?’ he said.
‘Nothing. It was just a dream. I’m all right.’ She folded her arms and gave him a faint smile.
‘Are you cold?’ He put a hand on her shoulder. She looked at it and then suddenly sprang from the bed and away from him, as though his touch burned.
‘No, no I’m fine.’ Her face was pale and her eyes flitted from him, to Jared, and all around the room without rest. ‘I have to go.’
‘Wait.’ He stood. ‘I’ll come with you.’
‘No!’ She put up a hand, speaking so loudly Jared stirred, rolling over to look at them.
‘Shaan?’ he said, blinking sleepily.
‘Sorry, I have to go,’ she repeated and began to back toward the door.
Tallis felt a sudden, hollow fear that if she left he would not be able to find her again, that she would disappear.
‘No, wait.’ He moved fast, catching at her arm. ‘What is it, what’s wrong?’
‘It’s nothing, nothing.’ She looked up at him more steadily now. ‘It’s all right, I just must go back to the inn, they will wonder where I am. I was supposed to work last night, Torg will be angry.’
But Tallis felt the uneasiness beneath her words. There was something wrong, she was afraid.
‘Shaan . . .’
‘No, Tallis.’ She pushed his hand off. ‘I must go and you have to stay here. If you leave, Balkis will send men to bring you back.’
‘Tallis.’ Jared was awake and sitting up now. ‘Let her go, she’ll be back, won’t you.’ He gave her a lazy grin and Shaan’s gaze flicked to him.
‘Yes, I’ll come back tonight,’ she said and smiled; but there was no warmth in it, only a strange desolation that Tallis couldn’t fathom.
‘Really, I will,’ she said and went to the door. As she turned the handle a keening high-pitched cry sounded outside, like metal scraping across a gong, or glass shattering. Shaan’s head jerked upward, listening as the cry echoed eerily overhead. Tallis’s insides coiled tight and his breath stopped in his throat. She turned, her eyes dark indigo as she stared up at him. ‘The serpents are restless,’ she said and then she was gone, the door closing quietly behind her.
He stood, listening as more cries filled the air, feeling the thrumming energy singing through his blood.
The city was quiet as Tuon made her way toward the temple. It was barely light and there were few people about. A dark band of cloud hung over the sky, dimming the light to a grey pallor and trapping moist warm air in the city. In her hand she held a small cloth bag of aromatic spices, a gift for the Sisters.
She had dressed in a simple, pale pink wrap dress with loose three quarter sleeves and her hair was brushed and fastened high on her head with a comb. To anybody on the street, she appeared cool and calm, but inside she was twisted with anxiety. Rorc had changed their meeting. It was unlike him and it made her nervous. And Shaan had not come home last night. She clenched her fingers around the bag. It had been only a day since Petar’s death; she should not be running around the city like this. Anything could happen.
A terrible image came to her of Shaan sitting in some cell under the Faithful’s eye. Was that why Rorc wanted to see her? Did he already have Shaan and know about the dream seer? What if he saw something in her eyes?
She crossed the street and approached the wide steps of the temple. The smooth marble was swept clean of dust and no one was about. She hesitated. When Torg had given her the message she’d tried to tidy herself, to look as cool and calm as usual. But Rorc was perceptive, too perceptive sometimes, and she wondered if she could fool him.
Bruises and small cuts from the previous afternoon spent with Lorgon ached as she slipped off her sandals and pushed open the heavy door. Inside, a dull gleam came from a shallow pool and the sweet smell of jungle blossom filled the air. She nodded to the silent Sister sitting behind a table and presented her with the bag of spices. The older woman raised it to her nose and inhaled, then looked up at her with a fleeting smile and indicated a door barely visible in the wall behind her.
Made of the same white stone as the walls, it swung silently, spinning on a central axis as Tuon depressed the lock. She slipped through and it shut behind her with a click. Her insides tight, she walked quickly through the silent corridor to the Primate’s study.
Rorc was standing with his back to her, looking out of the window. In spite of herself, her heart started to thud.
‘You’re late,’ he said quietly without turning.
She took her time closing the door. ‘You changed our meeting remember.’ She sat in one of the two hard chairs facing the desk, crossing one leg over the other and folding her hands together to keep them still.
He turned from the window. ‘Things have happened. I need to know if you found anything out.’
‘Things? What things?’
He let out a breath. ‘Just tell me, Tuon.’
Frowning, she smoothed her skirt. ‘I went to see Councillor Lorgon as you asked. He was . . . the same as always, but he didn’t leave me alone long enough, I couldn’t search his room. I would have sent you word immediately if I’d found anything.’
Rorc cursed and walked around the desk to sit in a chair beside her. He spread his long legs out in front and sat back, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked very tired. There were shadows under his dark green eyes and lines of worry creased his skin. She had a sudden compulsion to smooth his brow.
‘I was hoping for more,’ he dropped his hand. ‘Tuon, the Guardian has been poisoned.’
‘What?’ She stared at him. ‘Is she . . .’
‘Dead? No, but there are fears she may not survive. And her empty-headed daughter has gone on one of her outings. She hasn’t been found.’ He let out a frustrated breath. ‘I need to know anything, however small, you may have found out.’
Tuon swallowed, her mouth dry. ‘You su
spect Lorgon?’
‘He has been vocal about his dislike of her, but he is not the only one.’
‘Well, I didn’t find anything, but Lorgon likes to talk a lot when he’s . . .’
‘What did he say?’ he interrupted.
‘Many things, mostly curses, but at one point he kept saying I should take it, telling me to say sorry. I had to say that a lot, over and over and that he was right. He liked that, especially when I was on my knees.’ She flicked a glance at him and saw his jaw tighten.
‘That’s all?’ he asked quietly.
She nodded and rubbed unconsciously at a bruise under the sleeve of her dress. Rorc’s gaze fell on her arm. His lips tightened and he leaned over and grabbed her hand, pushing the sleeve up to expose the line of finger-shaped bruises on the outside of her upper arm.
‘Leave it.’ She tried to pull away, but he held her fast.
‘Did he do this?’
‘What do you care?’
‘If I’d known he was like that I wouldn’t have asked you to go.’
She stared at him. Was he really so blind? ‘They are all like that,’ she said. ‘The more coin they have the more they think they can get away with.’ She pulled away from him and, rising from her chair, went to the window turning her back to him. ‘What do you think I do, Rorc? Or do you prefer not to think about it? It has always been like this. The most powerful men can be the most cruel. Given the choice I would rather be at the inn taking custom from sailors or soldiers.’ She turned to look at him, but his eyes told her nothing. She crossed her arms.
‘Does that surprise you? That I would prefer a man with dust on his hands to one who sleeps on silk. A man who can swing a sword not a bag of gold.’
Rorc blinked and frowned at the vehemence in her tone. ‘Little surprises me,’ he replied, but the look he gave her was puzzled.
Afraid she’d betrayed herself, she sat back down at the desk and fingered a small statue. ‘No, well what does it matter,’ she said quickly. ‘That is not my life.’
He said nothing for a moment, and when he did speak his voice was low and quiet. ‘I’m sorry you were hurt, it won’t happen again.’
She shrugged. ‘It is done.’
‘I mean it, Tuon.’
She looked up. His green eyes were on hers and she held his gaze, letting the silence stretch between them. He did mean it, she could see it in his eyes.
She smiled, feeling as brittle as glass. ‘Don’t make promises you can’t keep,’ she replied and looked away, feeling as though her heart would shatter.
He was still for a moment, then rose from the chair, adjusting the sword at his hip, and began walking back and forward in front of the desk, his arms folded.
‘Where was your friend, Shaan, this morning? She was not at the inn when my messenger arrived.’
Tuon’s heart leaped into her throat. ‘She wasn’t? I don’t know.’ She affected a frown. ‘She should have been there, I didn’t check.’
He looked at her closely and she wondered what kind of a messenger he had sent. That one of the Faithful could be tracking Shaan made her cold. Did he really not know where she was, or was he testing her?
‘Perhaps she went to the yards. You know how early the workers sometimes start there.’
‘Perhaps,’ he replied. ‘I only want to talk to her. Are you sure you don’t know where she is?’
‘No,’ she said too quickly, and he smiled a small, rueful smile.
‘Even if you did, you would not tell me.’
‘She is of no importance to you.’ She was afraid of the look in his eye. ‘Leave her be, Rorc, please.’
‘She is more important than you know,’ he said cryptically and placed his hands flat on the desk leaning toward her, searching her face. ‘Promise me if you know where she is you will tell me. She may be in danger, you would be helping her.’
‘What do you mean?’ Her heart thudded against her ribs, but he only shook his head. ‘I cannot tell you, but you must trust me. Do you trust me Tuon?’
He watched her closely and fear for Shaan made her skin prickle.
‘Yes,’ she whispered, because she did and because her love for him bound her more than she could sometimes bear.
‘Good.’ He stood back. ‘And Tuon,’ something flickered in his gaze. ‘there is one more thing. The dream seer, Petar, was found dead in his home at the market. Did you know?’
Her breath froze in her throat. Her heart was thudding so loudly she was sure he would hear it. She shook her head. ‘No.’
He stared at her, his eyes holding hers. She felt stretched taut. ‘He was a friend of yours, wasn’t he?’
She nodded and looked down at her hands, afraid of what he would see in her face. He mistook her fear for sorrow, though, and said, ‘All right go. I think I will have more work for you soon though.’
And gratefully she did, leaving the room quietly, her hands shaking on the handle as she closed the door behind her, a dreadful fear for Shaan rising in her throat.
26
Shaan pushed through the streets of the merchants’ quarter, shoving her way through the growing crowds. Fat men dressed in silk shirts strolled in pairs looking important, and women in long dresses, their arms adorned with rows of gold bangles, hurried in and out of shops, followed by their servants. The scent of spices tinged the air and thin messengers, dressed in the colours of their owners’ houses, weaved in and out of the crowd like streams of fast current in a slow and steady river.
A few small coins were still in her pocket and she stopped to buy a sweet roll filled with soft cheese from a street vendor. The bread was crumbly and tiny pieces fell onto her clothes as she ate it, watching the people around her. For the past two hours she had been lingering in a small kaf house in the back streets of the quarter. The owner didn’t mind the occasional lowly commoner dropping in for a cup of his kaf – as long as they sat in the back – but she could only afford one cup and had had to leave eventually. She was reluctant to go back to the Red Pepino. Going back would mean questions, arguments. She didn’t think she was ready or knew how to explain to Tuon that she suddenly had a brother. Not that she was sure she believed it herself. She took another bite of the roll and wearily inspected her injured hand.
The dream that had come this time had been much worse. Serpents ripping people apart, ripping children apart, and all of them whispering to her: Arak-si. It had been difficult to wake from it, and even when she did it was only the presence of Tallis that convinced her she was back in the world again, away from the fire and the voices.
Shivering, she handed the small plate the roll had come on back to the stallholder. She couldn’t tell Tallis about it, not yet. Already she sensed he felt too much of her fear, and she wasn’t ready to share it all with him. Besides, she suspected that there was only one man who could help her. Morfessa had known what the word meant, he knew many things and he had helped her before. But how to see him, and could she trust him?
She began to walk toward the port, her mind circling over her options. She had reached the corner of the street when a strange nausea hit her. Slowing, she clutched at her stomach, wondering if the sweet roll had been stale, but then, without warning, a clear and vivid image of Tallis seated on the back of a serpent seared her mind. Sweat broke out on her brow. She could feel the awareness of him slipping away from her, like a thread being drawn out from its spindle. It was as though a fragment of her flesh were being whittled away. With a cry that startled those nearby she broke into a run, dodging around people and carts, staring up at the sky. Slipping and almost falling, she burst out from between the buildings and onto the road alongside the seafront. Turning, she stared up in the direction of the yards and saw the shadow of two serpents, like enormous gulls against the cloud-scudded sky, winging away from the city toward the east. He was up there on one of those serpents, both him and Jared, flying away.
A hollow despair filled her as she felt the awareness of him dwindle, until the serpents were
lost in the mouth of the sky. Until the only trace she had left of him was the smallest whisper of his being, like breath on a pane of glass. She stared up at the sky for some time after he’d gone, still barely breathing lest a movement wipe him away, then with a glance once more at the yards, she turned and ran toward home.
She was barely two streets from the inn when a plump, dark-skinned woman in a sleeveless mauve dress burst from a shop and hurried toward her, the silk wrap about her shoulders streaming out behind in a purple cloud.
‘Shaan, dear, I’m so glad I saw you!’ She descended on her with a bone-crushing hug. Startled, Shaan could do little but try to keep her balance, then her breath caught as the woman whispered in her ear, ‘Tuon sent me. You must come with me now – just pretend you know what I’m talking about’.
She pulled away, holding her at arms length, and smiled broadly. ‘So, you look well, and I have that oil ready for you. Do you want to come and get it now?’
Her dark skin was unlined and smooth and her brown eyes glinted in the dull sunlight.
‘Aah, yes,’ Shaan stretched her lips into a smile. ‘All right.’
‘Good.’ The woman took her arm and began walking with her back to the shop. ‘We’ll have some kaf and you can tell me all about what you’ve been up to. Do you like this perfume I’m wearing? It’s a new one I made, all the palace ladies are buying it, but I will give you some to try, here sniff.’ She held her wrist out under her nose and Shaan obediently sniffed at her skin, inhaling a soft scent of fruit and flowers.
‘Lovely,’ she managed, and the woman smiled wider and pulled her under the small awning of the shop and to the door.
‘Isn’t it? Now come in here and I’ll show you some more before I open.’ She pulled her in and closed the door. Once inside her manner changed abruptly. She dropped Shaan’s arm and went quickly to the small window, making sure the shutters were tightly closed.
‘I’m sorry to have startled you,’ she said as she pressed the louvres down. ‘Tuon did say I needed to get you off the street fast.’