Song of the Silvercades

by K S Nikakis

  Kira looked at him in bewilderment.

  ‘It’s the prerogative of the owner to name their mount,’ explained Tierken.

  ‘She’s mine? But I’m not staying,’ said Kira.

  ‘She’ll remain yours wherever you are, my gift to you,’ said Tierken tenderly, bringing the backs of his fingers to her cheek. Then he sighed and dropped his hand. ‘I must return to the Marken. It’s a shame it’s so wet, however my weather-wise herding friends tell me it will be fine for Mid-market.’

  *

  Tierken took his seat and the Feailmark resumed. It was not long before he was concentrating on keeping his face neutral as Rosham held forth on his favourite topic – opening up the Wastes. The city was crowded, and it made sense to use available land within Sarnia rather than extending the wall. There was also the issue of the unregulated occupation of the Wastes, namely the Caru Quarter, where most of the trouble in the city originated.

  Last Feailmark, Tierken had come close to agreeing, but had hesitated, despite acknowledging Rosham’s claim that the Wastes had become a dumping ground for refuse, and a haven for alehouses happy to serve drunks, gambling houses with little regard for fairness and women who sold themselves like trinkets at Mid-market. It was probably only his dislike of Rosham that had stopped his consent.

  As Rosham reiterated his arguments from the last Feailmark, Tierken’s thoughts turned to the Healer Queen, Kiraon. Heart-broken at the loss of her eldest son, Kasheron, she’d persuaded her younger son, Terak, to set aside a Quarter of Sarnia in case he should return. It seemed a strange chance that Kira should appear at a time when he could choose to accept what the Healer Queen had never accepted: that her elder son, and his heirs, were lost forever.

  Rosham finished his speech and eyed him confidently. Tierken dragged his thoughts back from the time of the Sundering.

  ‘I thank you for your views, Marken Rosham; as usual, they were well-considered and forthright. I will think on them until the next Feailmark,’ said Tierken.

  Rosham’s smile faltered. ‘With respect, Feailner, that’s what you said last Feailmark.’

  ‘And I may well say it next Feailmark. Terak left that Quarter vacant for a reason,’ said Tierken.

  ‘Surely you don’t expect Kasheron’s line to return, Feailner,’ said Rosham.

  ‘I was thinking of future treaties. There might come a time when others settle in Sarnia. It would be useful to have land available.’

  ‘What “others” would they be? The people of your guest perhaps?’

  ‘My guest?’ questioned Tierken, as the Meeting Hall stilled.

  ‘The Lady Kira. It’s said her people share our tongue and might follow her north, but I would suggest to you, Feailner, that Sarnian land should go to Sarnians before strangers.’

  ‘I’m surprised you heed the idle gossip of the streets, Marken Rosham.’

  ‘With respect, Feailner, anything that affects the city is of interest to the Marken.’

  ‘The Wastes will remain as they are then. If Kasheron’s heirs return, I’ll give them leave to build there, as was the intention of Terak himself. If we treaty with others in the future, they will be accommodated by extending the wall. Does that please the Marken?’

  ‘It’s not the Marken who must be pleased, but the people of Sarnia,’ said Rosham, his voice cold.

  ‘Then I’ll leave it up to you to ascertain their feelings, as I have neither the time nor the inclination to join in their gossip,’ said Tierken, rising. ‘I thank you once more, Marken, for your diligence and advice this Feailmark,’ he said crisply. ‘I wish you a pleasant day at Mid-market on the morrow and look forward to welcoming you as my guests to the banquet on Mid-market night.’

  Then, with a brief nod, he strode from the room.

  48

  Mid-market was held on the grassy slopes outside the city walls, with round huts like Ashmiri shelters set in rows and crowds churning the land between. The huts were hung with things that glittered or jingled or flapped brightly, and the air was heavy with perfume, the smell of cooking and the scent of spices.

  There were horse-traders from the Bishali Plain, Naswali puppeteers, Tallien cloth-cutters and Kir metal-workers, Laryia told Kira, as four Domain Guard rather than the usual two followed at their heels. There were so many strangely dressed people, and so many strange tongues being spoken, that for once Kira didn’t feel out of place.

  ‘This way,’ said Laryia, ducking into the side flap of one of the huts, and pulling Kira after her. The Guard followed and Kira edged forward to give them room.

  The interior was filled with rolls of glittering cloth and Laryia exchanged greetings with the cloth-cutter, who was tall like Caledon, but much fairer, his sandy brows low over his eyes as he appraised Kira.

  He took a number of gowns off a rack and Laryia smiled delightedly. ‘You have the loveliest gowns, Warilin, and the best eye for fit. Come Kira, which would you choose?’

  The gowns were scoop-necked, long-sleeved, and crusted in metal beads, and Kira hesitated, aware of the bored shufflings of the Guard behind.

  ‘I can’t wear a dress with metal on it,’ said Kira awkwardly.

  Laryia’s smile faltered, but she quickly reclaimed it as Warilin turned back to the rack.

  ‘I don’t want to put you to this trouble,’ said Kira. ‘I don’t mind if I don’t come to the banquet.’

  ‘Of course you’re to come. If Warilin hasn’t a gown for you, there are three more cloth-cutters we can visit.’

  One of the Guard suppressed a sigh as Warilin all but disappeared into the rack, eventually extricating a dark green gown with gold metal buttons down the front.

  ‘The buttons are easily removed,’ he said.

  ‘But it would be very plain,’ said Laryia doubtfully. ‘Do you like it Kira?’

  ‘It’s very pretty,’ said Kira.

  Laryia nodded and Warilin beamed. Laryia selected a blue dress for herself, and Kira edged towards the door as traders were exchanged.

  ‘Warilin will have the gowns brought to the Domain before the banquet,’ said Laryia, as they wandered on. ‘There will be dancing tonight. Do you like to dance, Kira?’

  Kira nodded.

  ‘The banquet’s very important for Tierken and I must host with him to ensure our guests are treated with honour and that everything runs smoothly. I’ve arranged for Farid to partner you,’ said Laryia.

  Kira’s heart sank as she realised she’d have to make polite conversation with someone she scarcely knew, but then she realised it would be an excellent opportunity to ask him about Terak histories.

  ‘The Naswari puppet-masters,’ exclaimed Laryia abruptly, seizing Kira’s hand and starting forward. ‘Quick, they’re about to begin.’

  Tierken was also at Mid-market, enjoying the freedom of having come without the Guard. The Domain black he wore had less ornamentation than a Guard Leader’s, allowing him a refreshing degree of anonymity, especially after the formality of the Feailmark.

  Now it was over, he’d have more time to talk to Kira about Maraschin and Prince Adris, for he was keen to learn of those the Terak were allied to, if only tenuously. And by the time he returned from his next patrol she’d be more settled in Sarnia and her riding skills strong enough for him to take her to some of his favourite haunts. A natural, like all Kessomis, Ryn had said. Given Kira’s looks and insistence on Kessomi clothes, Ryn’s slip was understandable.

  In the end she would have to dress like a Terak to ensure she was fully accepted in Sarnia, but Tierken was willing to put the issue of her clothing aside for the time being. Going from a small community under trees to a large one in a city must be a hard transition to make, he knew.

  Laughter ahead suggested a Naswali puppet show, and Laryia’s love of puppets made it likely she and Kira would be there. Puppets were one of the few things Laryia had pined for when Eris had taken them to Kessom, for the puppet-masters earned enough trade without undertaking the hard journey into the mountains
of Kessom. Sure enough, Laryia stood near the front with Kira beside her. Tierken edged round the periphery of the crowd, till he had a good view of them.

  Kira laughed as much as those around her, her face radiant. Tierken’s blood quickened, her happiness reassuring him that he’d made the right decision in bringing her north.

  The show ended and the crowd cheered, tossing traders into the proffered bowls before wandering away. Tierken stayed at the back of the throng, guessing Laryia would go to the Kir metal-workers next. She loved their scrolled rings, bracelets and tinkling chimes.

  As Tierken expected, Laryia stopped at a chime-trader, Kira waiting beside her for a moment, then moving to the next metal-worker’s hut. The man handed Kira something, and Tierken was surprised that, given the object was metal, she took it. Intrigued, he wandered over.

  The metal-worker bowed low to Tierken and Kira glanced up, her eyes suffusing to the soft honey that reassured Tierken about her feelings for him. He took the silver bracelet from her and turned it over. It was highly polished, the front beautifully engraved with the allogrenia and the galloping horse, a design popular with Kessomis. The bracelet was small too, the metal-worker obviously having the finer-boned Kessomis in mind.

  The metal-worker started extolling the bracelet’s virtues in Kir, his asking price high, as expected. As Tierken bargained and Kira tried to protest, Laryia came to his side and a crowd formed, as people noticed the Feailner, the Feailner’s sister and the Feailner’s bride together. Finally Tierken and the Kir reached agreement, and slapped hands before Tierken handed over the traders. The bracelet was expensive, but it was the best workmanship he’d seen in many a season.

  Kira’s colour was high, clearly uncomfortable with the attention they were receiving, but Tierken felt curiously happy. He raised Kira’s left hand and, with a small bow, slipped the bracelet onto her wrist. A gasp ran round the gathering, not least from Laryia beside him, but Tierken ignored it. If he were Kessomi, he would have just pledged, and they’d soon be married. In contrast, the Terak used the right wrist to pledge. Tierken gave another small bow and moved away. Let the Sarnian gossips chew over the meaning of that for the next moon!

  The metal was cold and heavy, but Kira wore the bracelet for the rest of the day, not wanting to offend Tierken or Laryia by taking it off. But it was the first thing she discarded when she returned to her rooms. She bathed and changed into the green gown, and Niria arrived to dress her hair. The dark green gown fitted Kira well but it did look plain, and Niria had twice asked her what necklets Kira was to wear, as she dressed her hair, tutting when Kira said none. Niria had all but finished Kira’s hair when Laryia appeared with a carved wooden box.

  ‘Ah,’ said Niria, in satisfaction, then bowed. ‘Is there ought else you need me to do?’

  ‘No, I thank you,’ said Kira, wondering if the box was the cause of Laryia’s discomfort, or something else.

  ‘You look lovely,’ said Kira. The gown Laryia had traded was now ornamented with blue stones set in silver necklets and rings, stones glittering in her hair as well.

  ‘Tierken sends these for you,’ said Laryia, opening the box and placing the necklets and rings on the table.

  ‘Tierken knows metal’s forbidden,’ said Kira recoiling. She wondered whether he’d sent it to test her obedience, or because he wanted her to turn into a Terak, not just wearing gowns but metal too. Surely her having worn the bracelet was enough to please him? She didn’t want to anger Tierken, but she wouldn’t bow before him either.

  ‘Can’t you wear it just this once?’ pleaded Laryia.

  ‘No!’

  ‘I’m not sure how it is in your lands,’ said Laryia haltingly, ‘but if you go without the accoutrements of a Lady, the guests will think you’re Tierken’s woman.’

  Kira looked at her in bewilderment, wondering whether it was akin to being exeal. Laryia’s face was swiftly becoming a deep scarlet.

  ‘Like the women in the Caru Quarter,’ said Laryia, barely able to meet Kira’s eyes.

  Kira didn’t fully understand Laryia’s distress but she sensed that attending the banquet without being decked out in metal would dishonour both her and Tierken. In turn, that was hardly likely to make him amenable to her kinship claim. On the other hand, wearing it would dishonour Kasheron. Laryia looked like she was about to cry and Kira relented, offering up a silent apology to her forebear.

  ‘I’ll wear metal to please you, Laryia, because you love your brother, and if he’s upset, you’re upset,’ said Kira reluctantly. ‘But never ask me to wear it again.’

  ‘I thank you,’ said Laryia, enclosing Kira in an intense hug. ‘Do you want me to help you?’

  ‘No, I can manage.’

  ‘Farid will be here soon to escort you across. You will have an enjoyable time, Kira.’

  Farid appeared a short time later and they walked into the Meeting Hall arm in arm. He was a surprisingly pleasant companion, telling Kira amusing stories about his early days in the Domain, describing the peculiarities of particular guests, and making her completely oblivious to the curious looks of those around her. He wore the Domain black with silver trim, like Tierken, and when he smiled or laughed, which he did often, his whole face lit up. After a while, Kira realised that the women sitting near her looked at him as much as her.

  The Meeting Hall had been set with a table running along its head, where Tierken and Laryia sat with the Marken and their wives, and with the wealthy of Sarnia, including the trader leaders, to either side. Two other tables abutted these at right angles, with Kira and Farid sitting at the end closest to Tierken’s table, and lesser traders and influential members of the city taking up the rest of the places.

  Platters of food were passed along the tables by the bevy of servers, and the Hall hummed with the sound of voices, the chink of glasses, and the scrape of metal against fine clay platters. The food dishes were being cleared and the players taking up their positions when Kira readied herself to turn the conversation to the Writings Store and the histories stored there. But at that moment Domain Guards made their way over. Farid excused himself and exchanged a few quick words with them.

  ‘A dispute I must attend to,’ said Farid, turning back to her. ‘Why is it always the Bishali horse-traders?’ he muttered. ‘I’ll return shortly.’

  Disappointed, Kira watched him leave.

  The Hall quieted as Tierken rose and delivered a short speech of welcome. Then the music began and Tierken led Laryia onto the floor to dance. After a little, Tierken and Laryia were joined by the others from their table, the players finishing to polite applause, then starting up again. This time it was thread-the-leaves, and guests swarmed onto the floor, the tables emptying rapidly until only Kira and an elderly woman with a stick remained.

  The next dance was strange, but it didn’t matter, as no one asked Kira to dance. Then the players began the weave dance, which was followed by thread-the-leaves again, virtually everyone in the Hall dancing. Tierken remained at the top table, conversing with each of his guests in turn, but Laryia was partnered by Rosham, Kira aware of her concerned glances as she whirled past. Thread-the-leaves ended and Laryia said something to Tierken, who barely interrupted the conversation he was having with a finely dressed, silver-haired man. Laryia was still staring at Kira worriedly as she was led back onto the floor by one of the trader leaders.

  Kira tried to keep her face expressionless but her throat was so tight she could scarcely breathe. Why was she sitting here in this loathsome stone city, bedecked in metal, betraying the Tremen and everything Kasheron had fought for! A small part of her argued that her abandonment wasn’t some vindictive act by Tierken, but she felt completely humiliated. Why insist she come to the banquet if he weren’t to have even one dance with her?

  The music came to an end, but the dancers remained on the floor as the first strains of another familiar melody filled the air. A horrible feeling of desperate fear welled up inside her and Kira gripped the table. It was the song Ka
ndor had played for her at Turning, before the Shargh attack, his last song …

  Overcome, she stumbled from the room, and as the sense of urgency grew sprinted down the stone steps, all but tripping on her gown as she fled across the courtyard, oblivious to the person who called her name and pounded after her.

  Figures stepped from the darkness and Kira cannoned into them, their arms constraining and confining her. ‘You cannot pass, Lady.’

  ‘You have no right!’ cried Kira, struggling with them. ‘You have no right …’ She felt as though she could hardly breathe.

  ‘Kira! You’re disrupting the banquet and making a scene. What’s got into you?’ came Tierken’s voice in her ear.

  ‘I’m leaving your stinking city,’ she shrieked. ‘I’m –’ Tierken gripped her arm and Kira cried out, pain stifling further speech.

  ‘The Lady’s unwell,’ said Tierken tersely. ‘I thank you for your assistance, Guard.’

  His fingers gouged the bone of her arm as he all but dragged her back across the courtyard, up the steps, and along the balcony to her rooms. The pain and panic mixed with anger at Tierken’s bullying.

  ‘I’m not staying,’ panted Kira, trying to jerk herself free.

  ‘I must return to my guests, but you’ll remain here. You’ve caused enough disruption for one evening. We’ll speak later,’ he snapped, thrusting her through the door and turning the key in the lock.

  49

  Kira shook the handle and beat on the door with her fists, then tore off the necklets and rings and flung them across the room, the metal pinging and clanging against the floor and walls. Then she dragged the dress over her head and pulled on her shirt, jacket, breeches and the ring of rulership. She must have been insane to believe that this man – this Terak – would have the wit or intelligence to accept her claim. And if he thought he could confine her, he could add delusion to the rest of his flaws! She thrust her cape into her pack, her waterskin and the rest of her breakfast biscuit and nuts, wrenched open the window, and dropped her pack out.