It felt like about half an hour before someone knocked at her door. A Tremontanan woman in white shirt and trousers beckoned to her to come. “Underclothing and hairbrush,” she whispered when Fiona stood. Fiona tucked the objects into one of the wide sleeves of her golden robe and followed the woman down the stairs, past the eating hall and the ground floor to another flight of stairs descending into the smoky dimness of a torch-lit hall.
Fiona kept one hand on the wall to steady herself. The stairs curved sharply on themselves, their dark stone cool and slick underfoot, and she slowed, afraid of falling and knocking herself and the woman all the way down the spiral to the bottom. She could hear echoes, not just of their footsteps but of voices, just at the edge of her perception. She strained to hear them, but heard nothing but mad laughter coming from ahead and behind and both sides. She stopped, and said, “Wait.”
“It’s nothing,” the woman said. “The way the water echoes sounds like laughter. You don’t have to be afraid.”
“I’m not afraid,” Fiona lied. “Just…curious.”
“Then come with me, and you’ll have your curiosity satisfied.” The woman proceeded down the stairs. Fiona took a deep breath and followed her.
They came out in a tunnel, cool and damp and smelling of old stone, and Fiona took in a deep, slow breath and released it. She refused to cringe away from the walls; the tunnel was just stone, and would not close in on her, even though the ceiling was short enough she could touch it with an outstretched arm. Holt would have to crouch to walk through it. It curved like a switchback mountain pass, following some contour invisible to Fiona, who kept her gaze fixed on the priestess’s back. The stone pressed down on her, weighing her down. If the ceiling collapsed, how long would she lie there, unable to see or move or breathe?
She felt the open space, heard running water, before she and her guide stepped out of the tunnel. She took a few too-hasty steps, almost running into the woman before controlling herself. The cavern was blessedly large, too large for the torches to fully light, and she could imagine it opening to a starless night sky except that it still smelled of stone and, now, of water. The rough floor felt comfortable against her bare feet, though part of her wearily wondered if these people had ever heard of rugs.
She couldn’t see the source of the running water, but it sounded like it was flowing over the stone like a waterfall. At the center of the room lay a square pool, surrounded on all sides by a black marble ledge that glimmered in the torchlight. The water was dark and slopped the edges as if something were stirring it. Four women dressed in white, unadorned gowns stood near the pool, all of them watching her. It was like facing four statues, they were that unmoving.
Fiona’s guide put out a hand to stop her. “Haran, having accepted her vision, wishes to purify herself to gain greater understanding,” she said.
One of the white-robed women stepped forward. “Wash, and be clean,” she said in thickly accented Tremontanese, and gestured into the darkness. Fiona’s guide took a torch from a stand near the pool and walked away. Fiona hurried to follow her.
The wall of the chamber wasn’t as far away as Fiona had thought, only a few dozen paces into the darkness. It bulged as if straining against the weight of the stone pressing down on it, and Fiona’s heart beat faster for a few seconds before she controlled herself. Water sheeted down the face of the stone and disappeared into an iron grate set into the floor, some of it slicking the wall, the rest pouring out like a waterfall from a few feet above Fiona’s head.
Her guide gestured with her free hand at a table that looked as if it had come from someone’s sitting room. A bar of soap lay atop it, and below that were a couple of empty shelves. Fiona glanced at the white-clad women, but none of them were watching her, and her guide just stood patiently holding the torch. Fiona disrobed. She wasn’t self-conscious about her body, but it had been a while since she’d been naked in front of anyone but Roderick. She shivered as she laid her folded clothing on the table; the spray from the waterfall spattered her, chilling her. She picked up the bar of soap and stepped under the water.
Sweet merciful heaven, it was cold. Fiona bit back a shriek and soaped herself as rapidly as she could. Cold, cold, cold. She rinsed quickly and stepped away from the spray. “Hair, too,” the guide whispered, and Fiona groaned and ducked her head under the water. She was numb enough it had started to feel almost warm. She scrubbed, rinsed, and darted away from the frigid water, dashing water from her skin and rubbing feeling back into her arms.
Her guide handed her the torch. “Haran approaches the well,” she announced, and made a little shooing gesture. Fiona walked back toward the women at the pool, holding the torch as close as she dared so its heat would warm her face. She shivered again and tried to control herself.
The women didn’t look at her when she arrived, shuddering and wishing she had a bathrobe, or a towel, or even a handkerchief. Fiona set the torch back in its holder and waited. The moment stretched out. One of the women made a tiny gesture in the direction of the pool, and Fiona abruptly realized they were waiting for her. Squatting, with both hands on the marble ledge, she swung one foot over and into the pool, feeling for the bottom.
The pool was as warm as the waterfall had been cold, not quite enough to steam but more than enough to relax her shivering muscles. Her questing foot found the bottom of the pool almost immediately; the water was just more than waist high on her, and she sank into it happily, bending her knees to let it cover her to her collarbone. She saw the same woman frown and shake her head. Quickly she stood and crossed her arms over her breasts. Heaven forbid anyone should have a little pleasure around here.
“Haran enters the well,” one of the women said. “She is made clean and washed free of impurities. She is prepared to look on heaven’s wisdom.”
There was silence again, broken only by the sound of water rushing over stone. “You can get out now,” said the frowning woman after a long moment.
Fiona scrambled out of the pool. The frowning woman handed her a towel. “Dry, and we will dress you,” she said. Fiona could hear the words she wasn’t saying: heaven save me from ignorant foreigners.
Fiona rubbed herself vigorously, as much for warmth as for dryness. Then she stood and let the women manipulate her like a life-sized doll into clean underclothes and new linen shirt and trousers, white this time, with the gold robe over it all. She managed not to cry out as one of the women dragged her brush through her hair, catching on every tangle. Maybe it was time to cut it again.
Then they returned the hairbrush to her, and Fiona followed her guide back up the steps, all the way to her cell. Fiona tingled with cleanness and the remembered shock of the cold water. Everything felt sharper, more alive—the feel of the stone under her feet, the air brushing her cheeks, the chilly dampness of her wet hair hanging halfway down her back. It was unlikely Haran had undergone that ritual—where was she going to find a waterfall in the Eidestal?—but as a symbol, it was potent.
She saw it immediately she pushed open the door to her cell: a palm-sized Tremontanan pocket watch Device, lying in the middle of her pallet. She snatched it up and opened it; it was empty. She closed it again and held it in her two cupped hands, close to her heart. This didn’t mean Sebastian had succeeded, just that someone had found her a watch. It didn’t even have to have come from the foreign trade office. And yet…no, Sebastian likely wouldn’t have left her a note, if he’d been the one to bring it, because it would be too easy for someone else to open the watch and discover it. So that was no evidence.
Fiona sat on her pallet and closed her eyes, letting her hands clasping the watch fall into her lap. There was nothing for it but to wait until supper, when she might see Sebastian again. And hope he’d accomplished his goal.
She sat cross-legged on her pallet until dinner arrived, a wedge of thick yellow cheese and a slab of bread and more of the mineral-tasting water. It was filling but boring. Her mind drifted toward food, hot steak cooked rare in
the middle, bowls of thick creamy broccoli soup, masses of sautéed onions on bread hot with melted cheese, rich dark chocolate cake served with cream… She made herself trace the outline of the watch, wishing she hadn’t had to lie. If she were going to pretend to meditate, it would be nicer to use the pendant they’d given her. How did one meditate, anyway?
The surface of the watch wasn’t perfectly smooth, but had a raised pattern of interlocking spirals molded into it. She could just barely feel the edges. She traced their outline and thought about her vision. Change was coming. More change than she’d already had, with divorcing her husband, leaving her family, and setting out on this new life? Don’t let yourself be alone, Mother had said. That was pure foolishness. She’d settle down somewhere, make new friends. She never had to be alone.
But that wasn’t what Mother had meant. She’d been talking about true friendship, the kind that didn’t have to hide anything. And that was a different kind of foolishness. Wanting someone she could be totally honest with, someone she could share her inherent magic with, was stupid. Sharing that knowledge with anyone else was dangerous, and she didn’t know anyone she trusted that much.
Not Sebastian, she told herself. She barely knew the man, and he had his own problems. But she couldn’t help remembering the night before, and how close she’d come to telling him…what? Something far too private for their fledgling friendship, that’s what. Maybe that’s what the vision meant—a warning that she was becoming careless. Don’t let yourself be alone might mean something more like Don’t let your loneliness get to you. She wasn’t lonely; she had a whole new life to begin.
A quiet rap sounded at the door. “It is supper,” Hien said. “Did you meditate well?”
“I think so.” Fiona set the watch Device on the little chest. “How will I know?”
“We will discuss tomorrow, and see.” Hien withdrew, shutting the door behind her.
Fiona left the watch in her cell and went to supper with the rest of the women. The room smelled deliciously of beef, but the portion they were served, diced small and pan-fried with vegetables in that uniquely Veriboldan fishy-tasting sauce, was far too small. Fiona was sure Haran hadn’t gone this hungry on her own journey, though as she’d had to carry all her supplies with her, maybe that was false.
She pushed shreds of meat around in her bowl while she searched the room for Sebastian. Instead, she saw Holt approaching at a saunter, casually collecting bowls on the tray he held. She pretended not to notice him and rose, dish in hand, as if looking for someone to give it to. In a handful of quick strides he was at her side, taking the bowl from her.
“This room, after dark,” he murmured, took empty dishes from her neighbors, and was gone again. Fiona sat down and thrummed her fingers on the table. She saw Hien watching her and let her gaze continue to travel the room as if she hadn’t noticed. Standing like that might have been a mistake, but better than letting her neighbors overhear what sounded like an assignation. Did other women leave their rooms at night for trysts with their attendants, or someone else’s attendants? If they did, she hadn’t seen them, but how careless of her not to have thought of the possibility before.
Sela stepped up to where everyone could see her and cleared her throat, an indelicate sound like a rasp on metal. “Tomorrow we will meet for discussion and instruction,” she said. “We will discuss the nature of your visions and how they relate to Haran’s experience. This will prepare you to enter heaven on the following day. Sleep well, and may heaven guide your dreams.”
Fiona stilled her hands and sat patiently as the words were repeated, then waited to let her table companions leave before rising and following them out the door. There was no need for her to hurry. It would be a few hours before full dark, and there was nothing she could do but wait. She caught Hien’s eye again and smiled. The priestess nodded, but didn’t smile back. Suspicious, or just tired? Also something Fiona could do nothing about.
She lay on her pallet, playing with the watch, until the moon rose, then silently left her room and crept down the hall toward the stairs. Her cold, bare feet made almost no noise on the steps, and her new white linen clothes made her less conspicuous against the white stone of the stairwell than the black had. Despite her caution, she grinned. This must be what being a thief felt like.
Then she heard it—steps, louder than hers, farther down the stairs. Growing louder. Fiona turned around fast, lost her balance, and fell, a few steps only, but enough that by the time she scrambled to her feet, Hien was there. She looked at Fiona with a neutral expression, the face of someone considering her options.
Fiona said nothing. In situations like this, it was smart to let the other person speak first, reveal what she thought was going on.
“There is a curfew,” Hien finally said. “Or is this another thing you do not know?”
“I hoped it would be all right if no one saw me,” Fiona said.
“Thanks to watchful heaven, there is never a time when no one sees you.” Hien had her arms crossed and her hands tucked into her sleeves. “There are also rules about…” She bit her lip, looking for the right word. “About sex.”
“I know. It wasn’t for sex. I forgot to return this to my attendant.” Fiona displayed the watch. “It’s probably valuable, and I’m sure he only borrowed it. I didn’t know if I’d see him tomorrow morning, so I thought I’d hurry down and give it to him to return to wherever he got it.”
Hien pursed her lips. “That is a good story that I do not believe,” she said. “I came now to see if you were in your room. If you break the rules, we can send you away.”
“No, please don’t!” Fiona closed her hand tightly on the watch. “I meant well. I wasn’t trying to break the rules. My attendants are just that—not romantic partners at all.”
“Then tell me the truth.” Hien held out her hand. “Why the watch? Why your attendant?”
Fiona breathed out slowly. “My attendant has always wanted to see the Jaixante,” she said. “He came with me in the hope of being allowed inside. But, of course, we stay within the Irantzen Temple while we’re here. When I had the vision of the watch, it gave me the idea to send him out looking for one. I thought it would help him fulfil his dream. Tonight I…just wanted to hear how it went. I was impatient. I could have waited until the festival was over, but I was curious. I’m sorry.”
Hien continued to hold out her hand. Fiona gave her the watch. She examined it closely, running her fingers over the ridges of the design. “That is a better story,” she said, “and one that should see you expelled from the festival. You should not lie about your visions.”
“I didn’t lie. I saw the watch,” Fiona lied. “It gave me the idea. And it helped my meditation, so that wasn’t a lie, either.”
Hien made a “hmph” sound. “Return to your room, and do not leave it again tonight,” she said. “I have given you much leeway, Fiona Cooper, and I do not trust you, but I believe you will benefit from this festival and I do not want to send you away if that is the case. I will see that this watch is returned.”
It took Fiona a moment to realize she’d been dismissed. “Thank you,” she said, and went back up the stairs. Hien followed her like an uncomfortable shadow.
Back in her room, Fiona went to the window and looked out over Haizea and the Jaixante, and cursed. If Sebastian’s information was important, she couldn’t afford to be stuck here all night. On the other hand, if she was caught wandering the halls of the Irantzen Temple again, they’d all be kicked out and Sebastian’s plan, whatever it now was, would fail. She cursed again and went to sit on the pallet. She didn’t have much choice.
She sat there, listening to the sound of her breathing, until she couldn’t stand it any longer. When she opened her door, Hien sat across the hall, her legs folded into what looked like an uncomfortable position, her eyes closed. Fiona took a step out of the room, and Hien’s eyes opened and focused on her. Fiona indicated by gestures that she needed to relieve herself, and stepped
into the little room, cursing some more. Hien really didn’t trust her, which showed how smart Hien was.
She returned to her cell and lay down on the pallet to sleep. They’d just have to think of something else.
13
Fiona saw Sebastian immediately on entering the eating hall the next morning. He bore a tray filled with steaming bowls of porridge, like the other servants, but despite that and his brown clothing he moved confidently, like a lord playing dress-up. Fiona took her seat and watched him draw nearer. She had no idea how to approach him without drawing Hien’s attention; Hien was looking elsewhere at the moment, but that could quickly change. Fiona folded her hands on the table in front of her and waited.
Sebastian placed the last of his bowls long before he reached her, but continued in her direction. Fiona pretended not to notice him, keeping her eyes on Hien. Then, as Sebastian reached the end of Fiona’s table, he stumbled and went to one knee. The tray skidded across the floor and ended up at Fiona’s feet. She bent to pick it up and found herself facing Sebastian, also reaching for the tray. With his other hand he clasped hers swiftly, and she felt smooth paper glide across her palm. Then he’d retrieved the tray and was moving on. The whole thing had taken no more than three seconds.
Fiona tucked the note into her sleeve and began eating the gluey, unappetizing mess. What she wouldn’t give for poached eggs on toast, or crisp bacon, or even a dish of stewed peaches. When this was over, she was going to buy the biggest, most delicious meal she could find, and she was going to savor it. No, she’d make Sebastian buy it. She doubted he and the other servants had to suffer such dietary restrictions.
Ally of the Crown Page 10