Misery's Child

by J Belinda Yandell

  Lillitha and the other consecratia were not forbidden to go into the city so long as their cadia-techa accompanied them, but they had little time for sightseeing. Nearly every hour was spoken for. There were dinners and meetings and interviews and examinations, all arranged by either the cadia or the bene-priests; then there were family obligations to fulfill, as many distant relatives were eager to rekindle familial ties with the consecratia’s families. Lillitha met so many cousins, aunts and uncles that her head ached from trying to remember them all.

  On the first eve, they attended a dinner in their honor hosted by the cadia to welcome them to Omana Teret. Bathed and freshly dressed in their second-best burlangs (the first being reserved for the actual ceremony on the seventh day), they were escorted by their cadia-techas across the bridge to the Isle for their first look at Omana Teret.

  The palace and the temple sat on a small island in the middle of the Great River. People called it a palace but it was really a connected series of buildings built on the ruins of an ancient castle dating back to the earliest days of the Omani Realm. Belah and his troops had camped on the then-uninhabited isle because it was easily defensible. After Belah’s death, Cadia the First had a vision in which her brother appeared and told her to build a fortress to protect the fledgling heart of Omani. Cadia had drawn up the plans according to her vision. Belah’s eldest surviving son, Chatom, oversaw the construction.

  In the beginning, the Isle was only accessible by boat. The river spanned roughly a quarter parsec on either bank. As the population of Omana Teret grew, the bridge was added. It was made of fine gray granite and topped with gleaming white marble.

  In the passing centuries, Omana Teret and its bridge suffered additions and remodeling with the ascension of every new shallan. Each felt it necessary to put his stamp on the Isle. The original fortress of simple stone was enlarged and built upon until Cadia the First would scarcely have recognized it.

  By the time Lillitha crossed the bridge, arches of delicately scrolled marble soared overhead and wrought iron lanterns, overlaid with beaten gold that added to the dazzling display, made her path nearly as bright as day. Indeed, the entire palace loomed ahead with flickering lamplight in virtually every window. And there were thousands of windows nestled among the towers, turrets and balconies that in some places reached as high as six stories.

  The palace was now not merely one structure but a maze of structures connected with arches and walkways. It was beautiful, as everyone said, but also very forbidding. Lilli felt herself shrinking as they approached the main gate.

  Iafrewn, beside her, grasped her hand excitedly. “Oh, Lilli, I’ve never seen anything so lovely, have you?”

  She shook her head, unable to speak. She had the strangest urge to turn and run as fast her legs would carry her. Something was wrong with this place. She felt as though every window was an eye spying down on her. Perhaps something was wrong with her; she was supposed to feel awe and reverence for this holy place, she should feel uplifted and enlightened, not the sinking dread that made her hands go cold.

  She tried to tell herself it was only because Yanna was not here to share this moment. She already felt diminished and slovenly because she had no second-best dress to wear, only an every-day burlang borrowed from Iafrewn, who was an inch shorter and quite a bit broader. Ersala had pinned it in the shoulders, but there wasn’t much anyone could do about the length or the plainness of the gown. Her only adornment was the thin silver chain and tiny medallion set with a single piece of amber no bigger than her fingernail. Her mother had given them to her on the day of her consecration, the last of the family jewelry passed down from Kirrisian mother to Kirrisian daughter over a hundred summers. The other girls were flawlessly outfitted in the finest weaves, many with embroidery around the hems, sleeves and neck; they all had golden medallions engraved with verses from the Book of Belah and set with a multitude of precious stones.

  She had no idea that the simplicity of her garments only heightened her beauty. Once inside the cadian wings of the palace, even consecratia were allowed to take off their wimples and veils. As she removed her headdresses, Lillitha had no way of knowing that the stares in her direction were born of admiration and astonishment, not disdain for her second-hand burlang.

  A petite, delicate woman in red robes came forward from the far end of the massive hallway. She seemed to float towards them as if she had no feet at all. Her robes were obviously of a rich material, but other than the gold buttons that gleamed down her bodice and the beaded prayer chain that draped over her shoulder and around her waist, she wore no other ornamentation. At the end of the prayer chain hung a tiny book, its leather cover adorned with a gold and jewel crest.

  While the buttons declared the woman a member of the cadialana, it was the prayer book that revealed her identity. Lillitha drew in a quivering breath as Cadia-Dedre Osane looked at her without any expression at all.

  Lillitha scarcely heard the words of welcome or the introductions that followed as other cadia came forward. She felt dizzy every time she lifted her eyes to the vaulted and frescoed ceiling that loomed so far above.

  The delegation that met the consecratia consisted of the twelve members of the cadialana and the heads of each branch. Each had their own interest in the seven girls assembled before them.

  The cadia-techas — the teachers — were interested in how the girls would reflect on their own cadia-techa’s preparation. Dafread, secretarie of the techas, would interview Lendenican and the others during the course of the week. Then she would test the consecratia to determine the scope and depth of their knowledge. Dafread would pass judgment on how well the cadia-techas had performed their duties.

  Minirate, as secretarie of the cadiasecratia, looked at the girls and saw her own memories. The branch consisted of former consecratia who chose to remain in the order—either after their six summers were completed or after not being chosen as shallana breda. Currently, there was no former shallana breda among their numbers, only rejected consecratia. Minirate had been on the other side of the receiving line only twelve summers before and her expression was tinged with pity. She knew what it was to have dreams dashed, to serve in a lesser capacity than she had aspired to.

  Soccia, easily the oldest sister in attendance, represented the cadia-apothecas — the medics and healers. Already she eyed the widths of the girls’ hips, their skin and eyes for any signs of physical weakness.

  The secretaries of the other branches were plainly less interested. The cadia philosophes had little concern for anything but theology and rhetoric. Their secretarie, Heubroni, scarcely gave the girls a passing glance. The cadia-luminas, which encompassed the scribes, the artists and weavers, considered the evening as merely another opportunity for reconnaissance, as they were always on the lookout for women of true talent. They had already looked over the initial reports from the techas as to each girl’s aptitude for the arts. They had three names on which they intended to concentrate.

  Richada, secretarie of the cadia-chatels—the lowest order of cadia who did the cooking, cleaning and farming—was only present to oversee the dinner service. The consecratia, all of noble birth, would never enter the cadia-chatels.

  For the first time, Lendenican and the other cadia-techas were excused from their duties. They disappeared into one of the wings were they would partake of their own banquet with other members of the techas. Each girl was escorted to the main dining hall by the member of the cadialana from her own province.

  Gevalini of Kirrisian was in her seventies, tall and slender and unstooped by age. Her pleasant face was kind as she took Lillitha’s arm.

  “My dear, you’ve grown into a lovely young woman. Yanna’s letters did not do you justice.”

  Tears welled at the mention of Yanna’s name. The older woman patted her shoulder consolingly.

  “We were all so sorry to hear of your misfortune. But you shouldn’t let your grief distract you. It seems like only yesterday that I brought her t
o your father’s house to begin your formal studies.” Gevalini sighed. “Yanna was a dedicated techa and will be greatly missed.”

  The evening passed with painful lethargy, as if Lillitha were caught in a dream from which she could not wake up. She could not shake the unease that had settled in her bones from the first glance up at the palace’s brightly-lit windows. She glanced nervously at the other consecratia, wondering if she were the only one who felt so awkward and alone. It had been so long since she went anywhere without Yanna and her mother close by.

  The dining hall of the cadian wing was simple but elegant: floors of polished chiate, the same pale pink as the columns that swelled from the surrounding walls which were hung with scarlet draperies. On each column burned a lamp similar to the ones on the bridge. Lillitha was amazed by the abundance of light, which seemed to deny the darkness of the night from which she’d come. She could make out quite clearly the portraits of women that lined the walls, though she recognized only one, Shallanoma Brigheda.

  Candles burned up and down a table of smooth fen wood hand-rubbed to a golden glow. The table was already set with plates of beaten copper, an extravagance Lillitha had never seen before, though they were quite common in the wealthier homes. The napkin placed in her lap was the finest weave, obviously the work of the cadia, white edged in scarlet silk.

  She scarcely touched the food set before her though Gevalini kept urging her to eat. She nodded and pushed the roasted tubers and slivers of beef around on her plate. Occasionally, she lifted a morsel to her mouth and chewed dutifully, swallowing it only by sheer will. The food was tasteless and caught in her throat.

  The room seemed very hot. She drank several goblets of clear, cool water in rapid succession. All she could think of was crossing the bridge back into the darkness where no one would stare at her.

  As soon as the last plates were cleared, a cadia-chatel appeared at her elbow and pulled her into the dim hallway.

  “Come with me. There’s someone who wishes to speak with you.”

  Her knees shook with fear as she followed the girl up a flight of marble stairs and down another enormous hallway. Soon, she’d lost all sense of direction. She only knew that she was somewhere deep inside the maze of the cadian wing.

  Lilli was shown into a small sitting chamber, its walls lined with books and tapestries. A crackling fire in the hearth added to the lamp that glowed on a desk.

  Behind the desk sat the cadia dedre. Lilli had not noticed the dedre’s early departure from the hall and it gave her the strangest sense of lost time.

  “Ah, Lillitha.” The cadia rose and came around the desk to take her hands. The woman stood a moment, looking into her with compassionate eyes.

  Lillitha felt guilty to be looked at so intensely, as if the cadia already knew all her secrets and pitied her for them. Osane reached out a cool hand and pressed it to Lillitha’s cheek.

  “Are you feeling quite all right?” she asked, her brow wrinkling. “You’re very flushed, my dear.”

  “I’m well, my lady dedre. It’s very warm in the palace. I suppose it must be all the lamps and candles.”

  She hoped that was all. She didn’t want to believe that a place could make one ill.

  “I wanted to talk with you about what happened. And about Yannamarie.”

  The woman motioned for her to sit down in one of the deeply cushioned chairs. The furniture threatened to swallow her up. She sat uncomfortably on the very edge of the seat with her ankles crossed discreetly under her skirts and hands folded in her lap.

  “I’ve read the reports from Lendenican,” Osane said, settling opposite Lillitha in a similar chair. The cadia dedre, however, looked perfectly at ease. “But we are still concerned for your well-being. It must have been a very upsetting experience for you.”

  Lillitha nodded, afraid to speak. She didn’t know what the woman wanted of her.

  “Are you sure you have quite recovered?” The cadia suddenly shook her head. “No, no, that was a stupid question for me to ask. Of course you have not. You were very close to Yanna.”

  “I miss her,” Lillitha murmured.

  “It is a credit to Yanna that you grieve for her. Not all consecratia and their techas achieve that sort of bond. It was obvious from her letters that Yanna was very fond of you as well.”

  Lillitha looked up from her hands, surprised. It had never occurred to her that Yanna had felt anything but duty towards her. She was afraid to speak, certain that tears would ooze out instead of words.

  “Yanna was my friend, did she ever tell you that?” Osane’s sweet face seemed genuinely saddened. “We studied here in the palace at the same time. It was so very long ago. I shall miss her too, until the day Oman sees fit to return her to us.”

  “Do you really think that might happen?” Lillitha leaned forward eagerly. In all the talk of Yanna’s abduction, no one seemed to give that possibility serious consideration. Instead, they spoke of the vanished cadia as they would speak of the dead, in low, regretful voices. “Do they... ever come back?”

  “Sometimes, my dear. Being captured by Tors is not always the horror most people imagine. After all, they don’t actually eat small children... Oh, my dear, that was a joke! A poor one apparently, don’t cry!”

  The dedre perched on the arm of Lillitha’s chair and put an arm around her shoulder.

  “I’m sorry. I have followed your training over the summers so closely through Yanna’s letters—I feel I know you and all the other consecratia and forget that you do not know me or my often-inappropriate sense of humor. But I was trying to make a point. The Tors are very different from us, but having lived among them for several summers, I can tell you that they are not savages—”

  “You? You lived with them?” Lillitha’s eyes were wide, her tears forgotten at the shock of such an admission. “But how? Were you—?”

  “No, no. I went there of my own free will. Many of the cadia have gone into Tor, as have many merchants to trade. With the right contacts, they can make a great deal of coin from importing and exporting goods between the two realms. After all, we are not at war with the Tors—”

  “But the bandits—”

  “Ah, the raiders are renegades who prey upon Tor and Omani alike. We’ve even had some talks with the Tors about stamping them out once and for all. The raiders are from the nomadic tribes, mostly. Men outside the circle of civilization who refuse to surrender the old ways.”

  Listening to Osane talk so casually about a people who’d always terrified her, it was clear to Lillitha that her views and knowledge about the world outside of Kirrisian was dismally unsophisticated. Still, it gave her little assurance as to Yanna’s fate. How could a civilized people buy and sell slaves?

  “I don’t mean to give you false hope,” Osane continued in her low, soothing voice. “The raiders are dangerous. But it is in their best interest to treat Yanna well. She’s worth quite a bit of coin to them because she is cadia. If she is in fact sold at the markets, she’ll most likely go to a wealthy household who would not waste her on menial labor. Kidnapped sisters most often find themselves teaching their masters’ children because even the Tors admire our education.”

  “But....” Lillitha paused, afraid to say it out loud.

  It didn’t require much of Osane’s power to read the girl’s mind.

  “Yes, it is possible that she will be sold as a concubine. She’s young and fit. But in either case, she’ll be treated with a certain amount of respect.”

  “Because she is cadia?” Lillitha ventured.

  “Yes. Because she is cadia. I knew one such sister who spent five summers in the house of a prominent official as his concubine yet he never touched her. He only trotted her out before his friends to show he was wealthy enough to possess such a woman. He was afraid to actually bed her because she herself had circulated the rumor among his servants that cadia had the power to shrivel a man’s member until it rotted off.”

  Lillitha’s hand flew to her mouth. It w
as horrible and funny at the same time, and strange for the cadia-dedre to be telling her such things. She could have sworn that Osane winked at her.

  “So Yanna’s chances are very good. There are worse things than serving as a concubine. I’m told many Torian women sell themselves into slavery to a man who is rich enough and powerful enough. And some eventually find a man enamored enough of them to buy their freedom and marry them.”

  She digested this in silence as the dedre returned to her own chair and lifted a sheaf of papers from the desk. Lillitha stared down at her hands. If she were a Torian woman, would she sell herself to a man? She could not understand it. Then Scearce’s eyes rose before her. Would she sell herself to man such as he: so kind, so handsome? The idea confused her. She wished she hadn’t thought of it that way.

  “According to the reports, you were carried to safety during the attack by Prince Scearce.” Osane looked up from her papers as if waiting for confirmation.

  Lillitha nodded, her heart in her throat. She was paralyzed, convinced that any words she spoke would betray her feelings. Yanna would have seen it in an instant, and this, after all, was the cadia-dedre. Osane would have to be just as intuitive as Yanna, probably more so.

  “You need not be concerned for the prince.” Osane smiled gently. “He acted heroically and comported himself as a gentleman and a noble at all times. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  Could the dedre see her relief? She prayed not.

  “Oh, yes, my lady. He saved my life.”

  Osane peered at her closely. Lilli felt suddenly transparent as glass.

  “Be at peace, little one. It is only natural that you should feel gratitude, and in your gratitude, protective of him. Lendenican’s questioning must have seemed...callous, perhaps. I regret that it might have upset you.”