Starless

by Jacqueline Carey

  “You dare!” Queen Adinah recovered first, striding forward to strike at my face with an open palm. I angled away from the blow, causing her to stumble. She drew in an outraged breath. “Guards!”

  Captain Tarshim stepped forward, signaling to the others. As their gilded spears leveled at me, I braced myself and tried to gauge whether I could take out all four without bloodshed.

  “No!” It was Sister Nizara who countermanded them in a forceful tone. “Mother, Anamuht is displeased with the House of the Ageless. Will you worsen matters by incurring the outright wrath of the Sacred Twins?”

  The guards stood down and I breathed more easily.

  Queen Adinah summoned her dignity with an effort. “Because you are young and ignorant, I will forgive the offense you have given me today,” she said to me. “And I will tell you to choose wisely before you make enemies at court.”

  I inclined my head to her.

  She beckoned to a maidservant. “I will retire to my chambers for the midday rest.”

  Following her lead, the others dispersed save for Sister Nizara, whom I saluted. “Thank you, Elder Sister.”

  She frowned. “My mother is in the wrong, but there is merit to her advice … Zariya, are you laughing?”

  “No, sister,” Zariya said in a choked voice, her shoulders shaking. “I am trying very hard not to.”

  Sister Nizara cast her gaze heavenward. “Would that I understood the will of the gods better! Khai, in a day or so when you are settled, I ask that you call upon me at the High Temple of Anamuht. I would speak with you there about what knowledge the brotherhood may share.”

  “Yes, of course,” I said.

  “Try not to kill anyone in the meantime,” she said wryly.

  By the time she took her leave, Zariya had regained her composure. “Come,” she said to me. “You’re to stay in my chambers.”

  I followed her through the vast labyrinth of the women’s quarter, Zariya leaning on her canes, the maidservant Nalah accompanying us. It seemed to me that her chambers were rather far.

  “Yes,” she said when I remarked on it, her breath coming short again with the effort of walking. “Because I had to be kept isolated from the others when I was sick as a child. But I stayed because I like it.”

  When we reached Zariya’s chambers, I understood why. The sitting room wasn’t large, but it was light and airy and filled with birdsong. An elaborate wooden cage with half a dozen birds with green and blue and yellow feathers, an unfamiliar species to me, took up an entire corner.

  “Those are my little friends,” Zariya said with a smile, sitting on a divan. “I hope you don’t mind birds.”

  I shook my head. “Not at all.”

  While she caught her breath and Nalah bustled around, tidying things and pouring water into a washbasin, I took stock. In addition to birds, there were books and scrolls, a great many of them stacked on shelves and nestled into rows of cubbyholes. There was a desk with a low stool with curved sides like the one in the Hall of Pleasant Accord, and a low table flanked by a pair of hassocks. The sitting room opened onto a private garden with a high wall around it. In addition to the sitting room and a privy closet, there was a sleeping chamber with a carved wooden bed. There was an additional cushioned pallet on the carpet beside it, and the leather satchel containing my belongings sat on a trunk at the foot of the bed.

  It should have been disorienting to think, Oh, this is my new home; and yet it wasn’t.

  Zariya was my new home.

  “It’s lovely,” I said to her when I’d completed my inspection. “I take it you like to read?”

  “You have two strong legs to carry you across the world, my shadow,” she said. “I have words.”

  It touched on a matter that was troubling me. “My lady … how is it that one as well protected as you contracted Dhanbu fever?”

  Zariya did not answer, glancing instead at the maidservant. “Thank you, Nalah. You may leave us now.”

  It was careless of me to think I could speak freely in front of the servants, I realized. I was unaccustomed to this business of mistrust. Nalah saluted and departed, closing the door with its fretted panels behind her. I heard the soft steps of her slippered feet departing, and the even softer steps of her return.

  “It is not a matter of which I would speak—” Zariya began.

  I touched one finger to my lips and pointed to the door. There was a shadow visible behind the fretwork of the lowest panel. I crossed the floor soundlessly and yanked the door open. The maidservant Nalah, kneeling with one ear pressed to the panel, nearly fell into the room.

  She scrambled to her feet. “Forgive me, my—” Uncertain how to address me, she checked herself. “I only thought to remain in earshot lest you and Her Highness require anything.”

  “We do not,” Zariya said. “Thank you for your concern, but please retire to the servants’ quarter until the midday rest is ended.”

  I folded my arms, and Nalah beat a hasty retreat.

  Zariya sighed. “I should have found a way to warn you—most of the servants are in Adinah’s pocket. But I did not think Nalah would stoop to spying outright. I suppose things have changed now that you are here.”

  “I should not have spoken heedlessly,” I said. “I have a great deal to learn.”

  “Come.” With the aid of both hands, Zariya lifted her legs one by one onto the divan and shifted to recline upon it, propping her head on one hand. “Lie beside me and we will whisper secrets into each other’s ears.”

  I hesitated.

  “I have made you uncomfortable.” There was acute understanding in her dark eyes. “Forgive me.”

  “It is only that I am unfamiliar with the ways of women,” I said to her. “You are the first one I have known.”

  “I have a great deal to learn, too,” Zariya observed. “It’s so peculiar, is it not? I feel as though I’ve known you forever. I would trust you with my life without a moment’s hesitation. And yet in truth, we come from very different worlds and know almost nothing of each other.”

  I smiled at her in relief. “Yes, exactly.”

  She returned my smile. “Well, let us make a beginning before we plunge into the noisome depths of courtly intrigue. Tell me, what was it like to be raised bhazim?”

  Sitting cross-legged on the carpet beside her divan, I explained to Zariya that I had not been knowingly raised bhazim, but had believed myself to be a boy until I was on the cusp of adolescence.

  She listened attentively. “It must have come as a terrible shock.”

  I hugged my knees to my chest. “It did.”

  “How do you think of yourself now?” she asked curiously. “As a boy or a girl?”

  I thought about it. “Neither, I suppose. I don’t know how to be a girl, but I don’t want to, either.” Realizing how insulting that sounded, I made a face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

  “You did, but no mind,” Zariya said mildly. “If I were you, I’m sure I’d feel the same way. In Zarkhoum, women are not warriors. To be considered a girl … it feels like an insult to your spirit and training, does it not? To the very essence of you?”

  It was as though she’d laid a finger upon my heart, and I glanced away to hide the unexpected sting of tears. “Yes.”

  “Well, I will simply consider you Khai, my shadow; unique unto yourself,” she said in a gentle voice. “But tell me, lest I offend, would you rather I say he or she when I refer to you?”

  I wiped my eyes on my sleeve, a ragged laugh escaping me. “I do not know how to answer, my lady. Sometimes it seems to me that to be bhazim truly is a thing unto itself, and there should be some other term for one such as me.”

  “The Elehuddin have such a term,” Zariya said, surprising me.

  “The Elehuddin?” I echoed.

  She nodded. “The sea-folk, those who can breathe water as well as air. Do you not know of them? I’ve never met one, of course—they do not venture to the shores of our desert realm—but I’ve rea
d about them. According to Liko of Koronis, there are words in their language one uses to refer to a person who is neither a man nor a woman. Or possibly both,” she added. “He was never entirely clear on that point. At any rate, I fear I cannot tell you what those words may be, my darling, for the language of the Elehuddin is composed of whistles and trills and clicks.”

  I frowned. “Who is Liko of Koronis and how does he know what the Elehuddin are saying if all they do is click and whistle?”

  “Liko of Koronis was a great scholar and a prophecy-hunter. He lived among the Elehuddin and learned to speak their tongue.” Zariya smiled wistfully. “I should have liked to be a prophecy-hunter.”

  “Vironesh says there are a great many pieces of prophecy beneath the starless sky,” I said. “But no one knows how they all fit together.”

  “Vironesh.” Her brows drew together. “He was my brother Kazaran’s shadow, was he not?”

  “Yes,” I said. “And my mentor, too. Before that he spent the decades following your brother’s death among the coursers of Obid. Now he is here in the city … my lady, do you know there is a faction calling themselves the Children of Miasmus wreaking havoc in Merabaht?”

  Zariya’s eyes widened. “No! Is it true?”

  I shrugged. “So I was told. At your father’s behest, Vironesh will serve in the City Guard and learn what he might. He thinks it is but a name chosen to sow fear,” I added.

  “Like as not,” she mused. “Still…”

  “I know.”

  We thought together in silence for a moment.

  “What pieces of prophecy did this Liko of Koronis succeed in finding?” I asked her presently.

  “Ah.” Sorrow touched Zariya’s features. “Therein lies the tragedy, my heart. Liko wrote many treatises regarding his studies among the Elehuddin and other peoples, but his writings on the scattered pieces of prophecy he uncovered were a close-guarded secret, kept hidden in the state library. All the Koronians were great scholars, for the realm of Koronis lay under the aegis of Enayo the Speaking Stone, who declared that a scion of Koronis would be the one to assemble the puzzle.”

  “Liko didn’t succeed?” I guessed.

  Zariya shook her head. “Koronis sank beneath the waves a hundred years ago,” she said. “The library was lost.”

  “How can an entire realm sink beneath the sea?” I asked in astonishment.

  “It was caused by the eruption of a volcano,” she said. “Koronis was a small island, nothing like Zarkhoum. The entire population perished.”

  “Then how is a scion of Koronis to assemble the pieces of prophecy?” I asked.

  “That is a very good question,” Zariya said. “But you haven’t answered mine.”

  “What’s that?” I was so distracted by this talk of sea-folk and scholars and sunken islands, I’d nearly forgotten. “Oh. He, my lady; it is what I am used to. And you haven’t answered my question, either.”

  “Dhanbu fever.” Zariya pronounced the words with distaste. “Yes, my shadow. It is quite unlikely that I, and I alone among the Sun-Blessed, should have contracted it.” She paused, lowering her voice. “The apothecaries believe it is spread by bed-mites, and indeed, my pallet was found to be infested with them. Mine, and mine alone.”

  “You think it was done a-purpose?” Despite the midday heat, I shivered. “Oh, but my lady! You would have been a child of … what would it be, no more than six years old. You could not possibly have posed a threat to anyone. Who would do such a thing?”

  Her expression was too cynical for her sixteen years. “Someone who resented the fact that my father favored his youngest,” she said. “Someone who hoped that my death might bring on khementaran.”

  I took a long, slow breath. “Do you know who?”

  “No,” she said wryly. “But there is no shortage of candidates. It was cleverly orchestrated,” she added. “I am given to understand that the entire servants’ quarter was put to harsh questioning. None of them confessed to any knowledge of how such a thing might have come to pass. I had a nursemaid of whom I was very fond. She was executed for carelessness.”

  “And now I am here.” Too restless to sit, I rose to pace. “Your mother said my presence painted a target on your back. Your father made much the same speculation yesterday.” My throat tightened. “Maybe … maybe you would be safer if you did not have a shadow. Maybe I should leave.”

  “No!” Zariya’s eyes flashed. She pushed herself upright on the divan. “We’ve only just found each other. Tell me, Khai of the Fortress of the Winds, is there any part of you that feels as though we ought to separate?”

  “No,” I admitted. “My heart feels as though it will shatter into a thousand pieces at the thought of it. But Vironesh told me to listen to my head as well as my heart.”

  Her gaze was fierce. “And what does your head tell you?”

  I stopped pacing and put my wits to work. “The person—or persons—who poisoned your brother were never caught, were they?”

  “No.”

  “That must have been cleverly orchestrated, too,” I mused. “And death-bladder venom would not have been easy to obtain. What of your brother Elizar? I hear he is a great collector of curios.”

  Zariya nodded. “It is the logical thought. Then again, a clever conspirator might think so, too, and plot accordingly. Kazaran’s death happened long before I was born, but I am told every apothecary in Merabaht was put to harsh questioning. As with my illness, none confessed to having sold the death-bladder venom to Elizar, nor to anyone from whom he might have obtained it.” She shuddered. “I do not know why anyone would possess such a thing in the first place.”

  “In very, very minute doses, it is said to ease inflammation of the joints,” I informed her. “There are many potentially deadly substances that have useful properties.”

  “Ah, you were trained to know such things,” she observed. “It is clear that our educations have been very different.”

  “Were any members of the House of the Ageless put to this famous harsh questioning?” I inquired.

  Zariya hesitated, then shook her head. “No.”

  “Why?” I asked. “Surely, it is obvious that one or more of them are behind these incidents.”

  “It is not an easy thing to explain, my heart,” she said to me. “Among the Sun-Blessed, it is said to the lion go the spoils. In Granth, warriors battle to the death to earn the title of Kagan. In the House of the Ageless, we are simply a great deal more subtle about it.”

  I stared at her. “Are you saying that the king sanctions this kind of deadly intrigue?”

  She pursed her lips. “Not exactly. But it is understood that the throne shall pass by right to the one strong enough to seize it; to the boldest and brightest, the most ruthless and cunning of all the king’s heirs. Commoners may be put to questioning or executed, but the Sun-Blessed are permitted their intrigues, assuming they are clever enough not to get caught.”

  “Even though such intrigues cost him the life of his favorite son?” I asked in disbelief.

  “Yes,” she said. “Even though it breaks his heart.”

  “That seems an incredibly foolish way to manage the business of succession,” I said bluntly, then clamped my mouth shut tight lest it utter further indiscretions.

  “There are too many of us and we live too long,” Zariya murmured. “I do not think it was meant to be thus.”

  It was treason she was speaking, and I saw in her steady gaze that she knew it; Zariya was indeed trusting me with her life. I returned to sit on the carpet beside her divan, keeping my voice low. “With whom are you aligned?”

  She shifted back onto her side. “I have done my best to avoid entanglements. My mother bore only girls, and none of us are reckoned of any particular value as allies, least of all me.”

  “Only as a weapon capable of causing your father pain,” I said slowly.

  “It is possible.” Her eyelids flickered. “Less now than once, I think. Before I was ill … I think per
haps there was a part of him that hoped, somehow, I had been chosen for something special. I suppose it’s why I entertain fanciful dreams of having been a prophecy-hunter. But since it happened…” She gave a low, mirthless laugh. “You have seen me, my shadow. I am hardly capable of standing against any darkness that might rise.”

  I remembered the strange mixture of hunger and bitterness in the king’s voice at our first audience. “Even so, to lose a second child thus favored—”

  “Do not speak again of leaving me!” Leaning over, Zariya reached for my hands and caught them in a surprisingly strong grip.

  “I was only speculating, my lady,” I assured her. “If you are in danger, we must be prepared for it.”

  “Speculate to your heart’s content, only promise me that you will never leave me.” Her grip tightened on my hands, dark eyes gazing into mine. “The Sacred Twins joined our fates together when we were born. In the entirety of my young life, that is the first and only thing I trust with my whole heart. Promise me.”

  I could no more deny her than I could cut out my heart and present it to her on a platter. “I promise.”

  Zariya sighed with relief, her breath wheezing slightly. She let go of my hands and closed her eyes. “Thank you.”

  “I have wearied you,” I said with remorse. “Forgive me.”

  “No, I have talked overmuch,” she said without opening her eyes. “The cursed fever left me with a weakness in my lungs. I will rest for a while. Tell me more about yourself while I do.” Her eyes flickered open and she reached over to stroke the scars on my cheekbones. “Tell me about these.”

  I did.

  It was a mystery to keep close to my heart, Brother Yarit had told me; but he did not understand the bond between Sun-Blessed and shadow. Zariya’s eyes glimmered with wonder as I told her about my journey across the Mirror of Heaven to undertake Pahrkun’s challenge, and tears when I related the words the Scouring Wind had spoken to me.

  “‘If the time is upon us, these are the gifts you and your soul’s twin will carry to the end of the world,’” she whispered. “Oh, Khai! Only imagine if it were true. But what about the marks you bear?”