by K S Nikakis
Then she clambered onto the sill and crouched for a moment as the freezing air washed over her. A voice in her head said ‘Don’t!’ but Kira jumped. It was no greater distance than she’d jumped before, but the landing wasn’t leaf litter. The jarring shock when she landed was so great that Kira remained curled on the frozen ground, forcing herself not to cry out. It was a long time before she could sit up, and longer still until she could stand. Shuddering with the cold and the pain, she finally limped away across the yard to an old stable, which backed onto a wall.
It was little more than a shed, the broken roof giving way as Kira tried to climb. Finally, she heaved herself up, and from it clambered painfully onto the small wall, hanging by her hands before dropping to the other side. The pain of her landing was awful, but anger drove her on. She headed north, knowing she needed to avoid the Guard stationed at the Domain gate.
The way was rough, but there were buildings ahead, light spilling between them from lamps set in the street beyond. Kira stopped in the lee of a building and peered out. Noise flowed from a building across the street. As she watched, its door opened, slashing the ground with a shaft of coloured light.
A man staggered out, cursed as he collided with a low fence, and wove his way up the street towards a woman, standing in a dress that left her shoulders exposed despite the freezing air. The man came to an uneven stop in front of her. Kira tensed but the woman didn’t appear frightened, holding out her hand and waiting. There was a chink of traders, and she heaved the man’s arm over her shoulders, staggering with him up to another door, and disappearing inside.
Kira leaned back against the building, hugging herself, the braggings of the patrolmen suddenly making sense. She stayed where she was for a long time, thinking of the wealth and poorness of Maraschin, the paving of the Domain and the mud here, and of the forests. Allogrenia had none of the beautiful things she’d seen at Mid-market, but it had none of the ugliness of Sarnia either.
Her anger was spent, her back racked with pain, and she was cold and weary. The sensible thing would be to go back to the Domain gate and beg admittance. Please, Domain Guard, let me return to my nice warm bed – and forget every thing I’ve ever held dear.
Her father had confined her with fear, and now Tierken had used a lock and key. She wouldn’t go back. Scanning the street quickly, she limped across into the shadows between the buildings opposite, then stopped, peering ahead in astonishment. There were no buildings, but rather bushes, straggly vines, clumps of grass and the smell of rot – where rinds and cores of fruit had been dumped. But there was also the scent of silvermint. And the land ran down steeply, which explained why she’d seen no green or growing from her rooms.
Almost obscured by the dense growth, Kira could see that a series of terraces had been carved out in concentric rings. For want of something better to do, she made her way down through thick weeds, wincing with every step, glimpsing cinna and the remnants of serewort before she came to the bottom. Set in the middle of the small central ring was a tree stump encircled by a broken seat. Shivering, Kira eased herself down and ran her fingers over what remained of the tree’s bark. It was rucked with savage cuts and too old to retain its spicy scent, but she knew what it was. Longing for Allogrenia swept back and she laid her head on the wood and wept.
It was early in the morning when Tierken farewelled the last of his guests and made his way along the balcony with Laryia. He’d managed to salvage the success of the banquet by telling those who enquired that Kira had been taken ill, and by flattering every wealthy, important or influential man there, and charming their wives, all the while hiding his anger. He had no need to hide it now though, and he began to rehearse the biting speech he was about to deliver.
‘Tierken –’ said Laryia.
‘It’s late. Go to bed.’
‘Kira was upset. You’re not going to make things worse, are you?’
Tierken kissed her cheek. ‘Good dreams, Laryia.’
Laryia stopped with her hand on her doorhandle, watching him.
‘Good dreams, Laryia,’ he repeated.
‘And to you, Tierken,’ she said, closing her door behind her.
Tierken turned the key in the third door and thrust it open. ‘Kira?’
It was dim inside, the single lamp on the table all but out. Something crunched under his foot and he cursed and held the lamp aloft. The light picked up the glint of necklets and rings littering the floor.
Scowling, he made his way through to the sleeping-room.
‘Kira?’
The room was chill, the shutters wide, the bed untouched. Clothes spilled out of an open chest and there was no sign of her pack. He strode through to the bathing-room, then came back, took a deep breath and looked out the window. He expected to see her lying broken on the stones below, but there was nothing.
The Domain wall didn’t extend below this small section of the Lehan Wing because the wing had once abutted a yard that housed the Domain Guard and their horses. The Guard had been relocated after Terak’s time, but the breach in the wall had never been mended. All that stood between the yard wall and the Caru Quarter was a stretch of open muddy land.
It was the only way Kira could have gone to avoid being seen by the Domain Guard at the gates. It was also the very worst place in the city for a lone woman to be at night.
Tierken hastened back to his rooms and collected his sword and knives, then made his way quickly through the freezing night to the Caru Quarter, stopping at the end of the alehouses. It was quiet, unsurprising given the lateness. He scanned the street, his gaze lingering on the building at the end where Caru women lived. Drunk men were poor judges of a woman’s willingness to take them, he knew, and his sword arm tensed, wondering if Kira had been accosted.
Kira disliked crowds. If she’d come this way, she would have avoided other people. It would be better to search the open Wastes first.
Tierken crossed the street and made his way between the buildings to where the waist-high weeds began. His first step landed him in foul-smelling slop, and he cursed viciously as he struggled on. Rosham was right. It was time the Wastes were cleaned up.
The stench gradually gave way to the scent of herbs, and he felt more hopeful that Kira might have come this way because of them. He followed the land down, in parts having to hack a path with his sword, and straining into the gloom to see. There was something at the bottom of the dip – just a tree stump, he thought at first. No, Kira was there too. Relief flooded him.
‘This is not a good place to be,’ he said, keeping his sword unsheathed as he scanned the darkness.
Kira made no response, her head resting on the stump, her gaze on him. ‘Have you hurt yourself?’ he tried again.
Still nothing.
‘Come. We’ll go back to the Domain where it’s warm.’
‘You cut down the alwaysgreen,’ she said.
‘It’s an allogrenia,’ said Tierken. ‘It was before my time.’
‘The Terak cut healing from their hearts.’
‘Come back to the Domain, Kira. We need to talk.’
‘You deny me. There’s no point in talk.’
‘I’ve never denied you,’ said Tierken.
‘You deny me. You deny healing. You deny the Tremen. I’m not going anywhere with you.’
‘You can’t stay here,’ he said.
‘Why not? It’s where you dump the things you don’t want, isn’t it?’
‘I want you, Kira. I’ve always wanted you. From that moment on the plain, when you raised your head and looked at me with my own face, I’ve wanted you.’
‘But you don’t want what I am, Tierken. I’m Kasheron’s seed.’
He sat down beside her. ‘All our tales and all our histories tell that Kasheron took his followers north over the seas,’ he said. ‘I have no reason to believe any of them are false, but the Writing Store hasn’t been ordered for many seasons and, in truth, I don’t have absolute knowing of everything it contains. I will
ask Farid to order it, and put aside anything that speaks of Kasheron and the Sundering. Would that please you?’
‘Yes. I thank you,’ she said.
‘Come then,’ he said in relief, putting his hand under her elbow and appalled to discover she could barely stand. ‘You’ve hurt yourself?’
‘I’ve jarred my back.’
‘I’ll carry you.’
‘No. It will be better for my back if I walk.’
Tierken brought his arm round her and they made their way up the slope in silence. It took a long time to reach the Domain, and when they came to the steps up to the balcony, Tierken picked her up and she didn’t protest.
He pushed open the door and lowered her onto her bed. Her rooms were chill, for the shutters were still open and he pulled them closed. The lamp had gone out and he needed to set a fire, too. Kira sat huddled on the bed, the feel of Tierken’s arms as he’d carried her, and the sense of loss as he’d put her down, bequeathing her the same desperate need for him as she’d felt at Terak’s Tor.
‘I’ll run a hot bath for you. It will ease your muscles,’ said Tierken.
‘No.’
‘Well, I’ll salve your back.’
‘No.’
‘Kira …’
‘I want you,’ she said, wincing as she stood.
‘This is not a good time,’ said Tierken, thinking that of all the countless occasions he’d imagined having her, none of them included a violent argument followed by a desperate search for her, nor her being injured.
‘There’s only now.’
Kira had said that at Terak’s Tor, but all thoughts as to what it might mean were swept away by her first kiss.
Tierken was slow and infinitely gentle, his warmth and scent and tenderness an ecstasy. Afterwards, Kira slept curled about him, snug beneath the covering, drawing her breath in rhythm with his. His touch was like a healing balm, soothing away her anger, and fear and hurt, and she wanted to stay as she was forever.
He rose as soon as first light found the window and she watched him dress, delighting in the line of his shoulder and flank, and the soft shine of his hair.
‘You should have that hot bath,’ he said, clipping on his sword before slipping his knives back into his belt. He perched on the side of the bed, and Kira reached for him again. His warm mouth came to hers, then he caught sight of the ring on the chest next to the bed and drew away.
Tierken turned it over in the light, this time not looking at the allogrenia and galloping horse, but at the metal again. Its obvious age disturbed him. An old ring made in the old way and carried by a woman who claimed to be a Leader. He frowned, recalling something Kira had said earlier.
‘You’ve told me you’re the Tremen Leader, but before you told me Kest was,’ he said.
‘I told you Kest was the Protector Commander. I lead the Tremen.’
‘No people can have two leaders,’ he said, thinking uncomfortably of Terak and Kasheron.
Kira grimaced as she sat up, keeping the covering round herself; she wished she was dressed.
‘Kasheron understood the need to keep the sword, and established the Protectors, but the Leader of the Bough – the centre of healing – is the Leader of the Tremen.’
‘So, when your father and brothers were killed, you became Leader?’
‘Leadership of the Bough goes to the best Healer, not to the son or daughter of the last Leader.’
The light in the room was strengthening and Tierken turned to the door. ‘I have matters to attend to this morning, but we need to speak further,’ he said. ‘Join me in the Meeting Hall at midday, Kira.’
50
Farid waited, the records of Mid-market stacked in neat piles in front of him, while Tierken prowled round the Meeting Hall. He felt increasingly as if he were on a sheet of Kristlin ice that had begun to crack. He’d spent the time since leaving Kira’s bed thinking about the ring. The design of the allogrenia and galloping horse was popular, but it hadn’t come into being until King Elrin had wed the gold-eyed Kessomi Healer, Kiraon. Such was Elrin’s passion for his new queen that he added the allogrenia – the tree beloved of Kessomis – to his insignia of the galloping horse.
It was also around that time that the silverwrights had perfected the purification of the ore they used, so that the bowls and candle holders in his rooms – which dated from Terak’s time – were not dull like Kira’s ring. All this pointed to the discomforting fact that the ring must have been forged after Elrin had married Kiraon, but before silver was purified – namely the period of Terak and Kasheron’s princedom.
Other things added to the roil in his guts. It struck him that he was about to repeat his forebear’s actions, for he too was enamoured of a gold-eyed Healer called Kiraon. But there had been less antagonism to Kessom in Elrin’s time. It was the failure of the Healer-centred Kessom to support the war against the Shargh, and the final betrayal of the Healer twin Kasheron – in severely weakening his brother’s forces by taking his own followers north – that had seeded the bitterness.
Given what had transpired in the past, it was odd that some of the conversations he’d shared at the banquet could only be described as conciliatory. More than one of the powerful and influential trader leaders – whose views the Marken subtly or not so subtly expressed each Feailmark – contained oblique gestures of support. It had been Mirina, wife of the wealthy glass-trader Jaklin, who had been plainest in her speech. After congratulating Tierken on his three seasons of rulership, she had commented on the happiness that Sarnia felt now that Laryia’s gentle presence had been added to. The Domain was a better place when it contained the womenfolk of the Feailners – and their children, Mirina had said. Tierken suspected that after the long uncertainty of Darid’s childless rule, Sarnia was less concerned about where his bride came from than the birth of an heir.
‘You’re distracted this day, Feailner,’ said Farid eventually.
‘Forgive me,’ said Tierken, coming back to the table.
‘As I said last night, the Bishali horse-traders continue to believe their treatment is more ill than every other trader,’ said Farid.
‘Did you offer them the usual choice?’ said Tierken, forcing his attention to Farid.
‘Trade leader Udrun chose as he usually does, to be levied on the number of horses he traded, rather than on their value. I also offered him a flat rate on the land his traders occupied, as you suggested. He declined.’ Farid selected a brecon nut and began to shell it. ‘He’s not going to be happy whatever he chooses.’
‘No,’ said Tierken.
There was a long pause before Farid spoke again. ‘My father tells me that quite a few of the guests noticed Kira was upset at the banquet. I beg your pardon, Feailner, that I had to leave.’
‘She was not distressed by you, and the fault wasn’t yours that you had to go. Udrun’s never been quick to pacify, and the fact that you were able to soothe his imagined injuries at all is testament to your skills.’
There was a pause and Tierken wandered back to the window. ‘The Writings Store, Farid,’ he said. ‘Have you sorted through everything there?’
‘When I first became Keeper I went through the records of Darid’s time, but I haven’t gone any further back. Most of them are in disarray.’
‘Now that the Feailmark is over and you have a little more time, I’d be obliged if you could order them,’ said Tierken. ‘Get Mouras to assign you some servers, and put aside anything that refers to the Sundering, Kasheron and the families who left with him, the ring he took, and the Caru Quarter.’
‘Are you thinking of releasing the Wastes for building?’ asked Farid.
‘Your father would certainly like me to,’ said Tierken.
There was a knock and Tierken turned. ‘Come in, Kira. We’ve just finished.’
‘Would you prefer I tally the dues, Feailner, or wait for those from the Quarters?’ asked Farid, rising.
‘Whichever you wish,’ said Tierken, his attention alread
y on Kira.
Servers bustled in with platters of food and Farid bowed and followed the servers out, as Kira carefully lowered herself into a chair. Her back throbbed, despite the fact she’d spent most of the morning in a hot bath. If they had Healers in Sarnia she’d be better by now. Tierken poured her a cup of water, the round of pink fruit giving it a sweet tang.
‘I didn’t get the chance to tell you how beautiful you looked at the banquet,’ said Tierken.
‘That probably explains why no one asked me to dance,’ replied Kira, the humiliation of the evening still galling her.
‘That wasn’t the reason. It was because no man there wanted to offend me,’ said Tierken, breaking fresh maizen bread.
‘How could dancing with me offend you?’
‘It’s widely believed I’ve brought you to Sarnia to marry.’
Kira burst into laughter, but choked to a stop as she noticed Tierken’s gravity.
‘Is the idea so ridiculous?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know. You’re more familiar with Terak customs than I am,’ she said. Her heart quickened as she thought of the implications of the last night. To take Tierken in love had been a joy, gifting her peace and a dreamless sleep, but it didn’t undo her quest. If Caledon had returned, there would be Protectors in Maraschin, and as Leader she must at least speak with them, whether or not Tierken eventually granted aid.
Kira took a steadying breath. ‘I’ve come to the Meeting Hall at midday as you requested. What would you have me do?’
‘Tell me about the Tain,’ he said, passing her a plate of food, ‘and eat.’
‘I thought you knew about them already,’ said Kira.
‘I’ve no recent knowing,’ said Tierken. And, he thought, if the Tain were under attack, they would surely soon call on the alliance. ‘There’s been no contact with them since early in my uncle’s rulership,’ he added.
Caledon had said as much, Kira recalled, when he’d told her that the Terak would be unlikely to come south.
Tierken began his questioning, wanting to know everything Kira knew: the health of King Beris, the doings of Prince Adris, the ordering of Maraschin, the frequency and nature of watch-walks, the role and command of the King’s Guard, the use of physicks and the functioning of the Sanctum, the Shargh attacks and the King’s response, the doings of woodcutters and herders, gatherers and physicks.