Zavona nodded her head. "I know. We all thought we were stuck with King BekToak and his unpromising offsprings. Fortunately the old king showed his usual lack of wisdom, taking his three sons -- all the heirs to the throne -- out in a boat in a killer storm. Those four royal, waterlogged bodies surely gave the Gurkonian Church a chance to put on the most spectacular funeral."
"Did the Ezant Church want the job?" Prince MorToak asked with half a smile.
Zavona answered with exaggerated dignity. "We take up the work the Gurkonian Church does not do. We don't do funeral spectaculars." She paused, then added, "We've admired the way King ParToak pursued his scholarly research. How is he approaching the ruling of this country?"
"He's studying the economic and political aspects in the same scholarly manner," MorToak said. "He's afraid that King Quanzar is thinking of expanding the borders of Drarie, which, of course, would be at our expense. King ParToak wants me to bring firsthand information on Pactyl back to Lurdoa City as quickly as possible in case we have to defend our country."
"Does that information include Duke Daquad's parties?" Zavona asked with a cynical smile.
"Where better to do my research on beautiful women than at the Duke's parties? After all, that's the work for which I am best trained," he said with a teasing drawl. In a more serious tone he added, "At Duke Daquad's palace I meet people who are influential in Pactyl. They invite me to inspect their factories, banks and other places of business. When I compare the industry in Pactyl to the information I collected about Drarie last spring, Pactyl does not come out too well. The Draries have sawmills, cannons and machines for multiple spinning. Pactyl still uses spinning wheels, hand saws and bows and arrows"
"With enhancers," Zavona added.
"We don't have many enhancers in Lurdoa City, nor do they in Drarie. Here in Pactyl you use enhancing very effectively in your banks. Too bad you haven't learned to use them in construction. Even bankers have to work out of shacks or double up in sleeping quarters because your construction is so primitive. Duke Daquad must crowd his palace living quarters with government offices. You have plenty of workers, a booming economy, and ancient methods. Soon I'm returning to the capital to report to my uncle. I want to include the work of the Ezant church."
Zavona said, "Not all the people in Pactyl are thriving in our booming economy. Some are hardly surviving. You'll see when I show you the unfortunate people we've taken into the Ezant compound. We do all we can, but there are too many. Her voice rose as she gestured at Meeral. "We'll take care of that girl, but we'll have to send her away before she fully recovers. Too many others have greater need." Zavona paused. "If she's a special friend of yours, we'll make an exception and give her more help. . . "
The man shook his head.
A young woman suddenly burst into the room. She stopped when she saw the man.
"What's so exciting, Felm?" Zavona asked.
"The Healer did it!" Gesturing with her hands, the young woman said, "She put a quill in a piece of meat from the kitchen. When I pulled it out, she enhanced the pull, along with the quill in the girl's leg. . . "
"Rolim!" The sound of her own voice, a froglike croak, startled Meeral.
"That's her name," the young woman said looking at Meeral in surprise. She turned back to Zavona. "As soon as we pulled out the broken quill, we started the healing procedures."
"Good,Ó Zavona said. "Now we need to find a place for this girl, Felm." She glanced at Meeral.
"I think the only place that's left is an empty stall-room in the old stable," Felm said.
Meeral forced her body into a sitting position. Trying to stand, she slid back to the bench. She would have fallen but the man caught her.
Picking her up in his arms he said, "I'll take her. Lead the way."
"I can have Padipt . . .Ó Zavona said.
"I want to see what a stable for people looks like."
"Felm." Zavona said, "Show Prince MorToak the stable suite. Get some food into this woman, then see if she's able to take a bath. She'll need the tub filled at least twice -- no, three times. If she seems too tired, let her bathe tomorrow. She won't spoil. I'll meet you at the barn in a minute and give you a tour of the Ezant compound, your Highness."
The Prince carried Meeral down a long passageway, around corners and out of the stone building onto a large wooden building. She looked into the face of the Prince, a face so different from the broad, dark faces of the men of Cyrtuno. His was long and narrow, with a thin nose and deep blue eyes. She wanted him to look at her but knew he would give more attention to a sack of oats for his horse.
When they got to the room, Meeral could see that it had once been a stall. Neatly furnished with a narrow cot and a stool, it looked clean and cozy.
The prince lowered her onto the cot. He reached into his pouch and tossed something on the bed. It landed with a metallic clink. "Maybe this will help you find a good husband who will take care of you," he said.
He left without as much as a good bye. Meeral turned against the wall. A prince! Why did the first man she had ever found attractive turn out to be a prince?
She closed her eyes tightly. Her fingers explored the curve on the charm that hung from the chain around her neck. She was so tired, but she finished the soup that Felm brought. Later someone shook her shoulder and said, "bath" and she dropped herself into the depth of sleep.
CHAPTER 4
The crow of a rooster was the first sound Meeral heard as she awoke from her deep sleep. Bright sunlight shone through a small window in the room that had once been the bedroom of a horse. She remembered the neatly combed mane of the horse she had ridden yesterday. The man who had rescued her -- Prince MorToak - had laughed at the glob of mud in her hair.
Now her fingers explored her head. The dried mud crumbled under her fingers, leaving the smell of powdered dirt. The door creaked open and Felm stuck her head in.
"You're awake," she said. "Come have a bath."
In a small shed, Felm poured water into a round tub. Meeral took a flame from a candle and heated the water. She dumped her filthy clothes in a pile and slid into the tub.
Felm looked at Meeral's good luck pendant but lost interest when Meeral told her it was not made of silver. When Felm changed the water enough times so that they could see the bottom of the wooden tub, Meeral ran her hands over her naked body and clean hair. She sniffed the fresh, scrubbed smell of her skin and hair and remembered how her mother had said, "Even the plainest woman looks better after a bath."
Meeral was still tired. Dressed in a borrowed gray robe, she ate a small breakfast and went back for more sleep. When she awoke, Jarph stood next to her bed.
"Meeral! Meeral! You're safe! I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to leave you, but I had to get Rolim to a healer." She sat on the stool and peered into Meeral's face then looked at the long strands of clean hair that fell around her shoulders. "You don't look terrible at all," she said in surprise. "Felm said you were so dirty."
"It wasn't permanent," Meeral said. Then she surprised herself by saying, "It's good to see you."
It was good to see someone who was not a stranger. Jarph had grown up walking along the same roads, and had watched the blue, pink and white blossoms on the flax plant open early in the morning and shed their petals early in the afternoon. The two of them were bound by the same memories.
"I brought you your trunk," Jarph said with a wave at the small trunk on the floor.
Meeral asked about Rolim and heard she was recovering. The Ezants were kind and helpful, but said that Jarph and her daughter could only stay until Rolim was out of danger.
"They'll help me get a job," Jarph said, "but everything is so strange. I've been in Pactyl before with Chak, but we never stayed right in the city. He said it was dangerous. He didn't want anything to happen to me."
"Perhaps he wanted you to think you can't get along without him. Shejani said women are safe in Pactyl."
Jarph got up, her face turned away from M
eeral.
"I don't like Pactyl. I want to go back to Cyrtuno. I have Chak's horse and wagon. I think I'll join the next group that goes to northern Lurdoa."
If Jarph left, Meeral thought, there would be no one here whom she knew.
As if Jarph read Meeral's thoughts she suddenly turned. "Come back with me, Meeral. We can work together planting and harvesting just as we used to do. In Cyrtuno we'll be with friends."
Friends? Jarph was at least ten years older than Meeral. They had never worked in the field together. Even Jarph's youngest sister had not been friendly with Meeral though they were the same age.
"I told Felm all about you," Jarph said, "how your mother came to Cyrtuno every year."
She jabbered on, as she must have done with Felm. Meeral knew it was too late to stop her. Being Shejani's daughter had caused her enough trouble. She hoped no one had heard of Shejani among the Ezants in Pactyl.
When Jarph finally decided she should go back to see Rolim, Meeral relaxed with a relieved sigh.
She opened her trunk. The smell of the linen and wool brought tears to her eyes. It was as if Varis were in the room with her, Varis who would listen to her, who knew how Meeral cried because Jarph's sister and her friends turned their back on her when she wanted to play with them. Shejani wasn't much help. She said, "You have nothing in common with those girls." She felt those words were enough to solve Meeral's problem. Grandmother Varis always listened. She seldom gave advice, yet somehow, after Meeral had poured her sorrows into her grandmother's lap, things were better.
Meeral put on a long sleeved blouse and a skirt. She had just finished fastening her hair at the top of her head when there was a knock on the door.
"Come in," she said.
A tall, plump woman entered. Her short brown hair was losing out to gray, but her face was free of wrinkles except around eyes that showed their pleasure even before a smile reached her mouth.
"Perhaps I have the wrong room," she said. "You couldn't be the woman who arrived covered with mud?"
The tone of the voice and the expression on her face was the closest thing to having Grandma Varis in the room. Before Meeral could say anything, the older woman said, "I'm Thera and I'm here to find out if there is anything you particularly need."
"No. I'm fine."
"Are you hungry?"
Yes! Meeral suddenly realized she was. She nodded her head so hard that Thera laughed, took her arm and said, "Let's eat."
As they walked from one building to another, Thera explained which of them had been a private home and which had been barns; some were of wood and one had been built one hundred years ago from old stones. The Ezant compound was a patchwork of buildings that were given to them or bought cheaply.
They stood in line with an odd assortment of women. Meeral felt that her own experience of the last few days was nothing compared to what some of these women had suffered with their bruised faces and frightened eyes. They addressed Thera with respect and affection.
Meeral and Thera filled their wooden bowls with a mixture of potatoes, carrots and a few hunks of meat, and took pottery mugs of cider. They followed the line of women into the eating area. Instead of sitting with the others, Thera led Meeral into a small room behind a nondescript door.
By the time they were seated Meeral wished she had worn a short-sleeved blouse. The room was quite warm. She didn't want Thera to think she was criticizing anything the Ezants had provided her, so she cooled her cider inconspicuously. It helped, but wasn't as cold as the beer she cooled in the tavern.
Thera had heard about Meeral's experience and asked her how she was feeling. Did she have any pain? Did she sleep well or did she have nightmares? She could not imagine that Meeral, who now looked so attractive, had arrived a muddy mess.
"Why did you come to Pactyl?" Thera asked.
"To find work."
"What kind of work are you looking for?"
"Enhancing."
Thera put her fingers around Meeral's mug and then felt her own.
"So that's how it feels to have one's cider cooled," Thera said. "How do you do it?"
Surprised that Thera had noticed, Meeral quickly explained how she enhanced the cold from the earth below. She cooled Thera's cider and shook her head. "I can't get it as cool as I did in Cyrtuno," she said.
"Maybe you're still tired," Thera said. Meeral silently disagreed with her and wondered if she had lost some of her enhancing skill.
"Jarph told Felm that you enhanced the pull on two wagons," Thera said. "Would you like to get a job with a reputable trader?"
Meeral was silent for a moment. "I'd like to stay in one place, not move around."
Thera picked up two quills and two pieces of paper from a side table.
"Enhance my writing," she said.
Thera wrote a letter complaining to a farmer about the quality of his last shipment of onions to Macy House. Meeral enhanced the second quill and wrote the identical message on the second piece of paper. When Thera finished she had the original and a copy of the letter, all in her own writing.
"I'm in charge of running Macy House," Thera explained. "I have rooms for boarders. With the housing shortage here, we're usually full. I also help at the Ezant compound." She held up the copy of the letter Meeral made by enhancing. "With this skill, you might find work in a bank. Would you like that?"
"Sounds interesting. Is that my only choice?"
"If you're willing to spend a couple of days while I test your enhancing skill I'll know better."
"I must to start earning money right away so I can pay for a place to stay."
"You can stay with the Ezants for two more days."
"I don't want to get into debt without money coming in," Meeral said.
"Oh, it would be free. They won't charge you."
Meeral looked into Thera's twinkling eyes. Was this sweet woman able to promise two more days when Zavona had said that they would insist she leave even before she recovered? She opened her mouth to ask Thera, but thin curtain that covered those smiling eyes made Meeral decide to merely nod in agreement.
For several hours Meeral enhanced as Thera requested. She wrote eight copies of a letter, all pieces of paper oriented differently. She enhanced the heat of a candle without the light and the light without the heat. At suppertime Meeral cooled a keg of apple cider, which impressed everyone except herself. The temperature was several degrees warmer than the beer she enhanced in Cyrtuno.
At Thera's instructions, Meeral went to bed early. As she arranged the sheets on her bed her hand touched a bundle of something hard wrapped in a man's embroidered handkerchief. When she picked it up she heard the click of metal against metal. Holding it in her hand, she felt the round shapes inside and admired the skillful stitching of the princely crest on the fine cloth. She remembered Prince MorToak tossing the coins to her as if she were a charity case.
"Find yourself a husband," he had said.
Mimicking his proud look and offhand gesture she flung the handkerchief toward her open trunk and turned her head in that haughty manner of Shejani's -- an air similar to the way the prince had turned from her when he left the room. She would have held the pose longer except that she heard the rattle of coins falling on the floor. Her aim hadn't been as good as his and the handkerchief had burst open, spilling coins all over the floor. Crawling on her hands and knees she picked them up. They were worth one hundred onics. Not enough to find herself a husband, but it might support her for a month. She would not accept so insulting a gift. As she stuffed them in the bottom corner of the trunk, she felt the wooden mouthpiece of her flute.
She found no reason to explain to herself why her lower lip was trembling. She shook her head vigorously, shaking off a mood of self-pity that was creeping over her. She pulled the flute from the trunk and played a minor key melody Shejani had taught her. After a few bars she shifted to a more cheerful tune that always made Shejani leap up from wherever she was sitting and start dancing. When the flute teache
r had played for them, Shejani taught Meeral the dance steps. They had danced together until Meeral knew every twirl and turn by heart, another one of those useless things her mother had taught her. Now in the crowded little room that had been a horse stall, she got into bed. She let her mind take her through the dance steps until she fell asleep.
Thera woke her early the next morning. "Get up and get dressed. We'll eat on the way."
"Where are we going?"
"To a dairy farm."
They rode in a two-wheeled cart pulled by a large dog. Meeral began enhancing the pull immediately. The dog went at a steady trot out of the city. The cart would have been too heavy if she had not helped him.
Hungry as she was, the sight of the city distracted Meeral from her breakfast of rye bread and early apples. She turned her head one-way and then another, trying to store in her memory all the different views of the city. Not even during the celebration after the harvest in Cyrtuno had Meeral seen so many people on the street -- people walking, riding horseback, buggies, wagons, and dog carts. Everyone seemed to know where they were going without shouting or bumping. The houses, too, were as crowded together as the streets. Meeral overcame her usual reserve and asked Thera where all the people were going, and why. Thera pointed to the places of work and the stores and shops.
Suddenly they came upon an open area that reminded Meeral of the farm country of home, although this place was different. Nothing just grew; every plant had been carefully placed. Even the grass grew in an orderly manner. In the center of this controlled, open space was a huge, marble building with several smaller matching buildings surrounding it like obedient children. In the area farthest from the road Meeral could see acres of fruit trees.
The Enhancer Page 4