Fires of Nuala

by Katharine Eliska Kimbriel

  They needed no other orders; one of the men promptly took up a position outside the door, while the other walked through the room, unlocked the courtyard entrance, and continued out, pulling the door shut behind him.

  Turning to her, a glass of bottled water in his hand, Sheel said: “Dirk insisted that I take them. But I will choose what we do with them.”

  He looked unbearably tired. Mailan started to speak, and then thought better of it. What matter if he tried to sleep? Would sleep come to him?

  “My mother has been told, and will arrive early in the morning. All has been prepared for the services.” Seeing Mailan’s eye on Ayers, he added: “Leah does not care what Iver claimed he saw — she will not ‘insult’ Dirk’s choices for her. We left Sheri with Avis.… Do you think Sheri can select other guaard to rotate the shift?”

  “I was going to ask Fion… about it,” Mailan finally said, swallowing her surprise. She had expected Sheel to be closeted with Dirk until starrise, at least.

  Again, he almost seemed to read her mind.… “I mentioned Iver’s words to Dirk.… Not, of course, telling him how the message was sent. He was livid at the thought, and rather sceptical.” Sheel took a long drink of water. “I did not pursue it at the time, but I told him I wanted to see the permanent rotation sheets first thing tomorrow.” The glass paused in mid-air as he lowered it, and the sudden expression on his face made Mailan long for some way to comfort him. “Mailan, I do not even know which of Cort’s advisors currently holds the most power. How am I to do this? I never imagined…” The words trailed off as he focused on the off-world woman.

  Mailan consoled herself with the thought that no one was throwing the name of Sheel reb^Riva Atare around in connection with a conspiracy. The very idea would provoke laughter: the preoccupied healer, concerned with politics? Now that lifelong disinterest could be dangerous.… Mailan’s gaze floated past Ayers’ upright form, over Jude’s slumped figure, and finally settled on Sheel.

  He had moved over near the — Darame. Steadily sipping her drink, the woman had not acknowledged the new arrivals or their conversation. Now, she seemed to notice the lull in speech, for she looked up. Mailan was at the wrong angle; she could not see the look that passed between them. Her shrewd eye did detect the slightest tightening in the woman’s arm as Sheel reached for her drink.

  “It will not help,” Sheel said softly in Caesarean, “and it is unlike you. Sleep would be better.” He tossed the contents of the glass into the firepit. Flames leapt from the last pressed stick, devouring the alcohol and tingeing the room with a sweet smell. Lifting the bottle, Sheel moved back to the ledge and placed both glass and whiskey next to the carbonated water. Refilling his water glass, he wandered into the bedroom with scarcely a lifted hand in farewell.

  Darame remained on the sofa, idly stroking the kitten in her lap. She seemed hypnotized by the fire, unaware that Mailan was studying her. The guaard could not help the annoyance building within — it was obvious something was wrong. Did the woman fear being accused of the murders? She had the best alibi on the planet. Or did she fear the Atare line? But Atare did not rule with the heavy hand of Dielaan. Iver’s death? She had been silent since then.… Could she fear Sheel personally? An absurd idea; the man had his choice of women, he had no need to bully any — Mailan paused with the thought, twisted it slightly.… The healing. Damn. Mailan had forgotten about it. Most off-worlders were extremely nervous about that talent.… You fear him because he is a healer? Impatiently Mailan stood and paced the room, checking the doors to be sure they were locked, listening as Sheel re-checked the door to the terrace.

  Then why do you stay? Tempted to ask, Mailan controlled her curiosity. Do you see in him what I see, despite your fear? Or is it something else?

  “You may return to the hostel, if you wish,” Mailan chose to say, her tone formal.

  “No. I cannot,” was the low response. Shifting the kitten to the sofa cushions, Darame stood and stretched. “I must stay here.”

  Walking up to the woman, towering over her, Mailan chose to speak — for reasons she herself could not isolate. “He is not a man to force his attention where it is not wanted,” she said calmly, studying the off-worlder’s black eyes.

  Something stirred in those black eyes. So — part of it. Not all, but a part. Why stay if you fear him? Moving to the niche by the sleeping room doorway, Mailan considered the question. Only two reasons immediately sprung to mind, and they were not comforting.

  Because someone — or something — had told Darame to stay with him… or because the woman feared something more than Sheel.

  THIRTYEIGHTDAY, TIERCE

  It was the incense that brought Sheel back to the moment; sweet and heavy, the burning sticks outnumbered the sweep of candles covering the transept walls. Soft plainchant had been echoing in the vaults above for hours. The splendor of the light ceremony had sent him drifting into some vision — of what, he could not say. Sleep had followed, even as he remained upright upon his knees, and either no one had noticed, or no one had the heart to wake him. He had been dreaming when the incense intruded — the beginning of a nightmare, he suspected. All Sheel could remember of it was shadow and light, the repetition of shadow and light, and then sudden pain across his chest, like the flick of a whip —

  Long, pale fingers reached into his line of sight, touching his wrist; flinching, Sheel regained full consciousness. Delicate, porcelain features turned slightly, offering him a profile view, and one clear, light-filled eye of pale green studied him. Sheel was fascinated by the control in that face: this woman had just lost her only surviving sibling and five of her six sons, yet her expression was serene. What strength you have, my mother. What a ruler you could have been, had you chosen to accept the power.…

  “Are you well?” she asked, her delicate tones chiming like a cast bell.

  “Tired,” he admitted, wishing he was holding up as well as she. Service had begun at starrise, and fourth bell, tierce, had just rung. Kee was halfway to her zenith, blazing with a strength rare in the second month. Leah and Avis were in no better shape. Although Avis still huddled on Riva’s far side, Leah had seemed in danger of fainting, and several priestesses had escorted her back to the palace not long after the service had begun.

  Tobias remained at Sheel’s left side. He stirred rarely, unusually still for a child his age, his expression somber. Reaching out, Sheel impulsively gripped the boy’s arm, and Tobias responded with a swift, secret smile. Instantly smooth, remote… Did Tobias understand everything that had happened? He was certainly maintaining a calm outer face; only the tightness of his embrace upon greeting Sheel that morning gave any hint of his unrest.

  Why did they kill Cort Atare? the boy had finally asked. By then the procession was moving from the narthex into the nave, and Sheel was spared an answer.

  Why — simply to confuse the government? To attempt a power grab during the reorganization? An old grudge… even a renewal of hostilities with Dielaan? It made his head spin. My brothers, what have you left me to? I will be no better a guardian of Atare than Iver feared himself to be.…

  Bells tolling broke into his reverie even as Riva folded her small hand around his wrist. Finally, an end to things, a chance to discuss the autopsies with Capashan. Tobias took hold of his left hand and tugged him toward the aisle, where Crow waited with other guaard at his heel. No sign of Dirk; still offended over the request for copies of guaard positions the past few days. Still unwilling to consider a traitor in their ranks. Sweet Mendülay, what does the man need to inspire caution: to catch a guaard trying to stab Leah or Avis? Perhaps he had other theories, or other evidence he was not yet ready to reveal. He had seemed reticent last night, when Sheel presented the problem to him. Always proud, was Dirk, and prone to offense when his judgment was questioned. Why did you not take the captain’s seat, Fion? Why trust all to this one, admittedly an excellent guaard, but with more pride than years? Necessary to make some sort of peace with Dirk as soon as possi
ble.…

  Along the aisle, out the north door and into the colonnade, the path back into the temple quarters arched over by a roof. Riva Ragäree followed slowly, arm in arm with her youngest, Avis. Sheel hesitated halfway down the walk, waiting for them to catch up. After all, Riva was… Dear ones, was she really almost one hundred eight years Terran? Incredible how she kept both her wits and her vigor. It had been several moons since Sheel had checked her health; perhaps later in the day.…

  Bringing up the rear was the second row, now passing him as he stepped aside. A multitude of children and wives, the survivors of this massacre, as well as the women who waited on his mother and sisters, various dignitaries and ambassadors, and — yes, Darame was among them, as Mailan had been instructed. Flicking him a long glance, her silver eyebrows raised in question, the woman moved past him like a whiff of spice, Second Ambassador Brant not far behind.

  “Lovely, is she not?” said a soft, feminine voice, and Sheel turned his head, looking down to meet his mother’s gaze.

  “Yes, most would agree with you,” Sheel answered tranquilly.

  “But not you?”

  Did he imagine it, or did Riva sound disappointed? “I find her quite attractive,” he said seriously. “Unfortunately, she witnessed a healing yesterday.”

  “Ah.” Riva set her hand on his arm, touching Avis’s cheek in farewell as the maiden moved to embrace her remaining brother.

  “Get yourself some hot saffra and then send for Stephen,” he whispered into his sister’s ear. The response was half-chuckle, half sob. “Avis, what is done is done: our brothers took their pleasure too gladly to begrudge you what comfort you have to support you through the next days.”

  That seemed to make sense to her. Straightening, Avis gripped his hand momentarily and then took hold of Tobias, who seemed willing to return to the palace now that his grandmother had assured him she was coming to see him. Neither Sheel nor his mother spoke until the two had turned into the cloister and disappeared around the side of the temple quarters, a troop of guaard in tow.

  “Indeed… Well, perhaps she is strong enough to come to terms with it, someday. Only the best can accept it,” Riva said gently. It took Sheel several moments to realize she was speaking of Darame. Riva Ragäree leaned on his arm, her eyes scanning the courtyard and the host of people beyond it. The throng was flowing out the west door of the temple and into an already crowded street, for even the Mendülarion S^Atare was not large enough to hold the multitude which sought to show their respect to their departed Atare and heirs.

  “You have acquired a few more guaard since I last saw you,” his mother continued, drawing him along the colonnade.

  “In a hurry,” Sheel agreed, fighting an undignified urge to smile, or worse, laugh hysterically.

  “A good boy, Crow, if a bit young for such responsibility… and Jude always struck me as very dependable. But Ayers… this is a hard time for him as well,” Riva said vaguely, turning her head to cast a curious look out her eye.

  Sheel met that undisguised gaze of watered topaz with a lifted eyebrow and a hint of a smile. “I offered Ayers to Leah and Sheri to Avis. Leah felt Dirk would be offended, however, and assured me of her confidence in her regular staff.”

  “Avis accepted?”

  “Avis is gracious when it comes to humoring me,” Sheel admitted. Sweet Mendülay, enough stalling — he would have to tell her something. “I had to be sure of the loyalty of the people around me.… Right now I am concerned about Leah and Avis, but I was told last night that as best as Dirk can determine, no attempt was made on their lives. I, on the other hand…”

  “Must be very careful.” Riva stopped walking and turned to face him, her smooth, pale face at sharp contrast with the heavy wrinkles of her neck.

  How much alike we are, he thought, not for the first time, and tried to picture himself reaching her age, his flesh drawn tight over sharp cheekbones, the betraying skin of neck and arms marring whatever looks he had. If I live through the next moon…

  “Iver apparently saw who stabbed him,” Sheel whispered. His mother’s fine white brows lifted, even as Sheel glanced over her shoulder to see who accompanied her. Their names escaped him, but both guaard had been with her for at least fifteen years, if memory served him.… Surely Fion had said fifteen years? Well, the rumor would spread through the guaard soon enough. Even their normal reticence could not withstand this information.

  “And?” Riva prompted, drawing Sheel’s attention back to her face.

  “It was someone dressed as a guaard, mother. I suspect it actually was a guaard.” Sheel waited for a reaction, hoping Riva was still as strong as she looked, reaching for her hand to be ready for any undesirable physical response.

  Silence. As Sheel watched, something flitted across her eyes — an inward vision, a private horror she did not share aloud — and then all was the same, amber bubbles of iridescence floating in hazel waters. Her eyes abruptly mimicked his own: one light, one dark, then both pale as early morning. Only her pulse increased, a slight racing.… Nothing to cause him alarm.

  “The temple has taught me well,” she murmured. “Control is everything, when it is needed. Do you have proof?”

  “Of tampering with the guaard? Yes. That it was truly guaard, or a name — no. Not yet. First I must convince Dirk the theory has merit. Now that Iver is dead, it will be harder.… His words were ambiguous at best.” Quietly Sheel repeated Iver’s last message to his brother, marking his mood and expressions even as Mailan saw them. His mother was quite literate — she would grasp the inference quickly.

  Riva’s face was vague, her mind far away, as he spoke. He feared her concentration was wavering until she said: “Yes. I see your dilemma. If it was no one Iver recognized, he would have immediately sent for the captain and guaard trainers, to ferret out the impostor. Iver did not have your brains or cunning — Yes, cunning,” she continued, her voice sharp as he began to shake his head. “Though you have used it little in the past. But he was no coward, and he knew his duty. He would have turned the place inside out looking for such a creature… unless he recognized the person.” Riva’s face softened. “I understand how he could be paralyzed by the realization. The very suggestion makes my blood run chill.”

  “Leah will not even discuss the possibility. I have not told Avis yet,” Sheel continued.

  “You must. Do not make the mistake Cort did with me: Leah and Avis are not women to take kindly to being shunted into the background.” The woman began moving toward the temple quarters even as her voice roughened. “The balance of power must return.”

  A lifetime of delusion flashed before Sheel’s eyes, and he reached for his mother’s arm. “Mother… are you saying Cort forced you out?” The idea was too shocking for words. “Why? Why did you not demand your rights?”

  Smiling slightly, Riva slipped her arm beneath his and continued toward the cloister, forcing Sheel to accompany her. “You forget, my son; I was quite active as a judge until shortly after Leah was born. You forget that everything changed in the year following her birth. When news came that First Frost was lost in transit, something in your uncle… hardened. Troubles with Dielaan started up then, too, probably brought on by news of the loss. Suddenly I was the only possible ragäree, with but two living sons and one daughter. I knew my duty and I did it. Five more children in the next twenty years.”

  “You have lost almost everything,” Sheel murmured, his hand tightening on her knuckles.

  “No, dear. True, I lost three siblings in one sweep of Mendülay’s hand, and little James at birth. And now, this… I am thankful my mother did not live to see her line murdered in their beds. I praise Mendülay your father did not see it, just as I say thanks day and night that we had so much time together. But, to answer your original question… By the time you, Avis, and Iver left for Emerson, and my duty to the line was complete, your uncle had grown used to absolute rule. We would have badly shaken the house and the nation, if we had battled the is
sue.” She smiled faintly. “I am not without influence, Sheel, nor without power.”

  Sheel felt a dimple twitch. The information network his mother had amassed was legendary, and the tendrils of her authority had crept to the highest levels. “Will you pull strings behind my back, mother?”

  Riva actually chuckled. “No, Sheel. You are too shrewd, and more intelligent than Cort. Which is saying quite a bit, for Cort was no fool, and a good ruler. But he lessened what his reign could be, by failing to use my talents within the government. Learn from his mistakes, Sheel. You must have an immediate coronation — I would not even wait until the period of mourning is past.” She slowed to let the guaard open the gates. “Although I would not actively start seeking a bride until we cease the black and white — ”

  “Mother…”

  “I have been very polite, child of mine,” Riva said quietly, steel in her voice. “I have not asked what happened to scar you, on Emerson, or why Avis purposely chose to return without a mate.… So as to accompany you to Caesarea, so you would not be alone? But you no longer have the luxury of carelessness with a legal line.” The woman gracefully lowered herself to a bench inside the cloister gates, and lifted her gaze to meet Sheel’s.

  “Surely I have done my part for the gene pool, Mother,” was all Sheel trusted himself to say.

  “Indeed.” A smile touched her lips. “But unless the next generation of named descendants is to be composed of nothing but outkin, you will have to do your part — even marrying one of your brothers’ widows, if no one else will suffice.” She folded her hands and leaned back against the stone wall. “A new council must be convened, and Leah named ragäree—”

  “Nothing should be done in haste.” Sheel was almost as surprised as Riva by the tone of his words — there was no room for argument within them. He did not want to tread this ground, not until he spoke with Leah. Before, he was an underling brother, forced to be satisfied with struggling for her trust. Now… Now he would be Sheel Atare, and when he told her she would allow him to examine her, it would be a private fight of equals — a fight he would win. Blackmail was a dirty business, but when she discovered he knew her secret, perhaps she would let him help.