Kensaka, Jansu Marata and father of the groom, had brought his family, entourage, and his men-at-arms to help keep order and civility. His turquoise and gold showed on the keep’s rooftops, on tents, and on the badges worn by the guardsmen. It was bad form—and bad luck—to cause chaos at a wedding, but where money and drink mixed, trouble happened. Yoking, the punishment for minor infractions, discouraged most mischief. When it didn't the underground level of the keep’s guardhouse made an outstanding gaol.
Marata was not the only one providing guards. As Tameko’s son-in-law, Bairith Mindar was honor bound to contribute. Lord Iwara, whose lands bordered Tanoshi, supplied a score of guardsmen as a token of his esteem and goodwill. To mark them as approved law keepers, the men wore charcoal-colored sashes.
In direct contrast to the busyness of the village, the inner courtyard was practically peaceful. Double sets of guards prevented entry to those who were not official guests or on official business. Sherakai lounged against the side of a wagon, enjoying a respite. Nearby, his brothers and their friends engaged in contests of strength and skill. Two pretty girls kept him company, taking turns trying to win his smile or perhaps a dance during the evening’s festivities.
“Are you seeing this?” Fazare jostled Tasan's elbow, distracting him from Imitoru’s knife-throwing.
Tasan glanced aside. “Think we should save him?”
Sherakai gave his brothers a warning look. He was doing just fine, thank you very much. He distracted the girls with a coin trick. Their giggles didn’t prevent him hearing his brothers continue their discussion.
“Is he using his Gift?”
“Not that I can tell.” His attention returned to the contest of blades, and he whistled in response to Imitoru’s skill.
“Huh. Do you approve of his flirting? Him being betrothed to Shinu’s girl as he is.”
“Her name is Jasoshi, and he’s doing no harm. Leave him alone.”
Fazare’s eyes narrowed. “Look, there’s another. He draws them like cream draws cats. Are we going to ignore his talent for getting into trouble?”
“Sherakai!” Ten-year-old Kanya ran up to join Sherakai and his admirers, gripping a handful of straw.
Fazare laughed. “There’s what he needs, a little homey domesticity. A bottle of dzumari says she won’t last three minutes.”
“Easy drink for me, then. He adores her.”
Sherakai smiled at his sister and pulled her close, then glared at Fazare and Tasan over her head. Was everything a competition to them? “Why don’t we all go sit on the grass under a tree?” he asked, turning Kanya with a hand on her shoulder.
She beamed up at him. “Will you make me a straw dolly?”
“Of course.” The grassy spot was not far away, and as he led his entourage toward it he introduced the girls to Kanya. They gave her faint, courteous smiles, impatient to have Sherakai to themselves again. He went down on one knee to take a little of the straw Kanya held. Braiding and knotting, he glanced up at his audience now and then as he spoke to them, keeping all four engaged. Within moments, he’d produced a little straw figure for Kanya and she gave him a happy kiss.
One girl smiled sweetly and asked for a straw doll for herself. Naturally, Sherakai complied and received a kiss for his efforts. Not to be left out, the other girls also requested a small gift and paid with blushing, delighted kisses. Color warmed his own cheeks. He didn’t mind at all.
“Hey, Kai!” Fazare hollered across the yard, and the three brothers started across the space.
“Hey, Zar!” Sherakai smiled back.
“Ladies.” Fazare murmured as he approached, giving them nods of greeting echoed by his brothers. Then he turned back to Sherakai. “Some of us are going hunting. Would you like to come?”
“We’re taking the hounds and the horses,” Tasan said.
“We could use your help,” Imitoru added.
Sherakai looked from one to the other, then shook his head, a smile still playing across his mouth. “No, but thank you.”
“Why ever not?” Fazare drew up in surprise. “I thought you liked hunting with us.”
The girls giggled. The older one boldly leaned closer to Sherakai to play with his braids.
“Oh, I do, but—begging your pardon—none of you are as pretty or sweet as this company. While I see you nearly every day, I may never see them again, which would be a tragedy, don’t you think?”
Imitoru nodded in sympathy until Tasan elbowed him, whereupon he shook his head vigorously. The girls covered their mouths, laughing and blushing.
“A successful hunt may bring the favor of the gods,” Tasan said, though it was unlikely he was referring to the young ladies.
“I have been running after the gods’ favor for days and, as you can see, I am generously rewarded.”
His words produced another wave of blushes and giggles. Imitoru laughed out loud. “You are, indeed.”
“We’ll only be gone for a few hours,” Tasan pointed out. “Your companions will want to prepare themselves for tonight’s merrymaking. It would be rude of you to keep them overlong.”
Sherakai considered the young ladies, then shook his head. “No, you are all beautiful the way you are. Though I expect your parents will want you to wear fancy gowns, I can’t imagine it would take more than, oh, an hour?”
“Not more than an hour,” they all agreed, voices chiming like bells and smiles challenging the sun.
“Oh, saints,” Fazare groaned under his breath. “He’s worse than you are, Toru!”
“Better, you mean,” Imitoru replied in obvious admiration.
Tasan studied his youngest brother critically. “Are you feeling well?”
“What kind of question is that?” Imitoru exclaimed. “If I were fifteen and surrounded by beautiful girls I would be quite, quite well—except for my older, handsomer brothers looming about, interrupting my romantic pursuits.”
Ruddy color flooded Sherakai’s cheeks. It increased when the oldest girl linked her arm through his and smiled winningly at the three of them. “We’ll take good care of him,” she promised.
“We’re having fun,” Kanya piped in.
“Very well. If you change your mind, we’ll be leaving shortly,” Tasan said with a strange reluctance.
Sherakai shook his head. “Next time. Good hunting.”
His attention captured by the girls, he didn’t even see them go.
Chapter 6
“May I come in?” Sherakai poked his head around the door to his mother’s sitting room. Open windows overlooked an immaculate garden. The delicate leaves of a good-sized hornbeam made it cool and shady. Gravel paths wound through beds of moss. The burble of water from a hidden pool soothed the senses. He liked it here, and apparently Mimeru did, too.
“I see you found me.” His sister’s smile was a ghost of a thing. Thin and waxen, even her expression seemed an effort.
“Mama gave you away.” He slipped inside and went to kiss the top of her head. “I looked for you this morning but you were sleeping. You look—” He stopped and bit his lip.
“Sick?”
He sat on a bench near her chair, balancing a folded cloth on his knees. “Like the beautiful sister I’ve missed all these months.”
“What a charming thing to say. Not true, but charming.” Mimeru let her gaze fall to the hands clasped in her lap. In spite of the warmth of the season, she had a blanket draped across her legs. “I am not sure what’s wrong with me. The healers work their magic and ply me with concoctions.” She reached out to clasp his forearm and give it a reassuring shake. “I’m sure they’ll get it sorted out soon. Don’t worry. What’s this you’ve brought?”
She was his sister and she was ill—how could he not worry? The conflicting despair and comfort he sensed from her confused him. She looked so fragile it made his stomach knot. Finally, he lifted the little packet and folded back the cloth. Tucked within were rounds of ubi kore, a lightly sweetened seed cake flavored with anise.
“I am supposed to look at you appealingly, give you a charming smile, and convince you to eat these.” He suited action to words in his most theatrical manner.
Mimeru put the back of her hand to her forehead and fluttered her lashes. “I think I may swoon.”
“No, no, that’ll get me in trouble.”
“And you do plenty of that on your own.” She accepted the packet and broke off a little bite to nibble. “Thank you, little dragon.”
He snorted. In the old tongue, Sherakai meant breath of the dragon. It had caused him no end of grief from his brothers, who teased him about his “sulfur breath” or compared him unfavorably to a lizard. They had perfect, noble names. Tasan was like an eagle, Fazare bore the name of a river in an epic legend, and Imitoru was courageous.
“You’re not so little any more,” she observed, playing with a delicate crumb of pastry. “You’ve grown at least two hands since I saw you last.”
“I always liked the stories you told.” He snitched a piece of cake. “I miss them.”
“It’s the truth!” she exclaimed. “You’re growing fast as a colt.”
“Tell me another tale.”
“You are not too old for such things?”
“Never. I read them now, instead of listening.”
Memories softened her eyes. It hadn’t been so long ago that she had sat at Sherakai’s bedside and spun tales to coax him to sleep. “I hear you burn more lamp oil than anyone but Papa.”
He waved a hand. “Yes, and Zar says I will soon be blind as a potato.”
“Perhaps if you read all day, every day.”
“Can’t,” he agreed, humor sparkling in his eyes. “There are the horses to keep out of trouble. You know how restless they get.”
“And your practice at arms.”
Sherakai wrinkled his nose. “I’d rather deal with the horses. They are so fast, Ru, and so smart! Sword-work—” He jumped up to pace, one hand on his hip and the other gracefully illustrating his exasperation. “Everyone expects me to learn it and to go support the king in battle if need be. All the men in the family are warriors. But I’m not. The others like it and they strive hard to excel. I admire that, I do, but now it’s not even about that.” Even with an entire day to digest the idea of leaving for the College of Magic, it made him nauseous. “Why can’t I do something I like?” he whispered.
Mimeru sampled another tiny morsel from the napkin. The notion of another magically-inclined brother didn’t seem to bother her. “You have always been passionate. When you were little more than a babe you’d spend ages stacking your wooden blocks, so intense that no one dared interrupt you. If we did, you’d scold us furiously in your very own language. We didn’t understand what you said, but there was no mistaking what you meant. And you’d frown at us so fiercely, Kai! Put us right in our place with the kind of finely honed glare grown men would pay to own. Then you’d set right back to rebuilding.”
“A two year old tyrant.” His current options didn’t allow him to be demanding, or determined, or even willing.
“No, never that. You were a sweet baby. Even then you wielded natural charm. When you were a little older, you became impatient waiting for people to read to you. You needed to learn the letters yourself. You’d stick the tip of your tongue out the side of your mouth and write, and write, and write, practicing until you’d done it perfectly. People used to remark on your patience and dedication.”
He plunked himself back down on the bench, elbows to knees. “Now they grumble about my restlessness and inability to focus. Unless I’m riding or reading.”
Affection wafted from her. “You are always sweet with the little ones. You take care of people. You never deliberately hurt anyone. You’re clever and bright. Smart.”
He shrugged. “I like people. I like learning. You can discover a lot by taking interest in something someone does well.”
“Careful, Papa will find out you’ve actually been listening to him,” she teased.
“I try, Ru. Have you ever felt as if—” He stopped and gnawed on his lower lip, guilty for trying to saddle her with his problems.
“As if what?”
He shook his head. “You’ve only just got home. I don’t mean to whine. Much.” He offered a crooked, rueful smile. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“I am, too. It doesn’t happen often enough. Let me be your big sister—tell me what you were going to say?”
He drew a breath, then paused again. “Eat a whole cake first.”
“Oho!” Mimeru’s brows lifted. “You’re going to make me pay for listening to you and giving advice?”
“First, eating ubi kore is never a hardship. And second—yes?”
She shook her head in mock dismay and picked up a pastry. “Where did you learn how to drive such a hard bargain?”
“Fazare, mostly.”
“Clearly, I’ll need to have a word or two with him.” She took a dainty bite, and Sherakai folded his arms and bounced one knee while he waited for her to finish.
“Don’t you like those any more?” he asked.
“Yes.” She licked her lips and nodded. “I’m savoring the delicate flavor of anise and my lack of usefulness.”
“Who says you’re not useful?” He frowned.
She was quiet for a moment, chewing and then swallowing. “No one, exactly. Mama and Papa want me to rest. Elinasha suggested a tincture to restore color to my cheeks. The boys—I should not call them boys, should I? They’re grown men.”
“What did they say?”
Mimeru looked up at the ceiling. “You’re too thin,” she announced in a passable feminine version of Tasan’s wonderful baritone. “Don’t they feed you at Nemura-o pera Sinohe? Should we send food? Do you need a healer?” She dropped the mimicking tone. “And Imitoru stared without saying anything at all.”
“Oh. And Fazare?”
“He wants to know if my husband is taking care of me properly.” She took another pastry and held it up so he might take note before she took another bite. The diminutive size allowed her to keep talking. “I must look more awful than I thought. I am grateful that you don’t treat me quite like an invalid.” She lifted the remains of her pastry again for emphasis.
“It was selfishly motivated. I was stalling, and Mama said she’d forgive me one entire hour of punishment if I got you to eat everything I—oh.”
“Yes, oh, young man,” Mimeru shook a finger at him, trying not to laugh. “What did you do this time?”
He offered a feeble smile. “I swam in the Starglass. And I, er, dove.”
“Did you, now.” Not really a question. “From where?”
“The top.”
“Oh my stars,” she breathed, eyes going wide. Suspicion chased hard on the heels of surprise. “Did Fazare put you up to it?”
“No, it was my idea. He wasn’t even there. Mama said I must never, ever do it again, but it was amazing! It was like—like freedom I’ve never known. The water was so,” he paused. “Like another world. Beautiful and broader and more than I’ve ever imagined existed. More than has ever happened to me there. I want to do it again.”
“Will you?”
“No.” He picked at a fingernail. “It frightened her badly, and I don’t want to do that to her. I don’t try…”
“Oh, Sherakai.” Mimeru leaned forward to stroke his abundance of braids. “I do so love you. You’re a good son, a good brother. Do you know that?”
Closing his eyes, he soaked up the tenderness Mimeru offered and tried not to think about whether she’d ever treat him just so again. “I’m leaving,” he said.
“Leaving?” Her touch hesitated, then resumed. “Where are you going?”
“To the magic school in Kesurechi.”
The stroking stopped.
Sherakai kept his eyes closed. “Papa says my gift is strong. Stronger than his. Strong enough to need real schooling and not just a tutor.”
“Oh, my sweet boy…” The stroking started again, just as gen
tle and tender. “I would tell you not to be afraid, but you must be, and I don’t think it is right to smother that. This is a big change. When you set out on that road you cannot know how the journey will turn out.”
Sherakai lifted his head, one hand covering hers and holding it in place. “Is this meant to be reassurance? You’re going about it all wrong.”
Her smile was precious and sweet. “For someone so fearless, this could be the adventure of a lifetime.”
“That’s what Chakkan says.” He screwed up his face. “He’s quite excited about it and made me promise to write him so he doesn’t completely miss out on all the trouble I’ll get into. I wish he was coming with me, but they don’t allow servants and he has no Gift.”
“I wish I was going with you, too. I’ve seen pictures of the school, but you get to be there. It’s beautiful. And it’s by the sea, you know.”
“How did—”
“For a while we were afraid you might run away with Uncle Digashi.” Tameko’s brother, a warrior like the rest of the men in the family, but from aboard a ship, had died in the Romuri war. “Your eyes used to shine so when he talked about the big sailing ships and the beauty of the waves. He wove some marvelous tales, didn’t he?”
He let out a breath that was half a laugh. “Yes, he did, and I’ve thought about it. I dreamed of seeing some of the places he saw. Only it’s not my choice any more. Nothing is my choice.” His fingers tightened on hers.
“That is not true.” A haunted expression flickered across her face, there and gone. “Life tends to happen while we are busy planning other things, but how you respond is entirely up to you. Will you be the rock in the sea of life, or the sand?”
“Will I uphold the honor of House Tanoshi or will I be disowned? That is not much of a choice.”
“Perhaps not, but it is a choice. Perhaps you will find there is more room for satisfying your own desires than you think. What you want may even change. We all change, Sherakai.”
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