“These off-worlders are out of control, Atare. They are your off-worlders. You must deal with them, and make sure this never happens again.”
My off-worlders. Dear sweet Mendülay, since when are they mine? It was not time to give Livia his theories, his plans. “You have your children with you?” he asked The Ragäree. At her cautious nod, he said: “I do not think we can fit your entire entourage within this cavern, but — ”
“You have Sini here?” Tsuga said abruptly.
“A few mock-Sinis are living in the back, well away from our area.”
“We will remain in our tents.”
Sheel decided not to argue with this emphatic statement. “As you wish.”
TWOHUNDRED EIGHTYONEDAY, MATINS
It was very late, the dark of the moons, and Sheel’s energy was at its lowest ebb. Shadowy dreams had awakened him twice already — a silver-haired little girl with one black iris and one blue – and he had no desire to try again. Seated by the firepit in the front area, ignored by the guaard who occasionally passed through, he stared at the flames and fumbled for answers.
“Divide and conquer” were Halsey’s exact words.… Sheel thought about waking the old man, and thought better of it. Halsey was greatly improved, but could ease into asleep in any position. He was not ready to keep Sheel’s hours. And I do not wish to bother you with it anymore, lady. Darame was probably awake, and would be glad to listen, he knew, but he suspected she was frustrated with him. It is so obvious to you, and like sea fog to me. We must become one if we are to survive.… Dielaan is going up in flames, and they did not even hint that they would appreciate help settling the problem. They need it — I know they do. Better for Atare that Livia rules, than some upstart distant seed of the line, untrained, unprepared.…
“How do I settle it with a minimum of bloodshed?” He whispered it aloud, hoping his ears had an answer his brain had overlooked. There is an answer, offered the voice within. But it could destroy your house.
“Who would rule instead?” He thought of other possibilities: the minor nobles seizing their own lands and making their own laws; merchants trying to set up some sort of order within Atare city itself; judges making the laws as well as ruling on them. A theocracy? No, that would never do, there was enough trouble when the great Cied Schism occurred.…
There is an answer.… He had thought of only one; one chance to do this without blood. Have an unquestioned champion of the Atare throneline stand up before a mass of witnesses and demand a fertility test for Leah. Whatever else Leah and Dirk had planned would surely collapse, and Brant… it would yank a support out from under Brant’s house. How to keep him from getting away without a trace?…
If he returns to Caesarea, he is gone. Darame had no faith that the legal system could hold him. He has too many friends — he will escape. So instead we must plan his death? Have him slain before he opens his mouth? No — the evidence was piling up. If Leah broke, and he rather suspected such a challenge would break her, she might turn on Brant. But if word got out how Leah became sterile… The potential bloodbath of unsuspecting mock-Sinis —
Cold arms slipped around his neck. “You might pretend to sleep. They would worry less about you,” Darame whispered in his ear.
“You would know.”
“I might not tell.”
A slow smile actually warmed him from within, and he leaned his cheek against her arm. “You would tell Xena, and she would start brewing her potions again.” Straightening, he considered what he would tell her, explain to her.…
“Atare?”
Peering into darkness, Sheel saw a shadowy figure coming from the depths of the cavern, the light of a pocket torch flicking in front of her. Small, compact, deceptively delicate-looking — Ayers’s sister, Sheri? “Sheri?”
Smiling that he remembered, she came forward. “Atare, I am monitoring the skies tonight with Fergus’s RAM, and I finally detected a code with the prefix you asked us to search for.…” Starting for the back, she glanced over her shoulder at him.
Darame’s grip loosened and Sheel stood up. “Come.” He paused only a moment while she seized one of the furs and tossed it around her shoulders. Then they followed Sheri.
Fergus had a small communications room, scarcely large enough for one body. Squeezing sideways into the seat, Sheri showed him the pad. “I copied until the prefix repeated, Atare, but it is no code that I have ever seen.”
Scanning it, Sheel nodded. “No reason for you to know it. I will take over — you have done well.” He moved aside as Sheri crawled out, and then took her seat. Darame settled herself on the ledge at the entrance.
“Do you know it?” she asked.
“As a matter of fact, I think I do. Do you know that mothers remember incredible things about their children?” he said idly, taking up the light stick.
“I do not remember mine.”
“That is sad — my mother has been a fascinating window on many worlds and thoughts. Damn, what is the break?…” With painstaking care, Sheel slowly began to decipher the code.
“Would Leah know it?”
“If she knew where to look for it. Unlikely, however. I doubt she knows I was interested in codes and ciphers as a youth. You forget I was only ten Terran when she took her first Sleep, and our lives never crossed again until this last year. There is no reason for her to know… and only a few places she could find this particular code.”
Darame leaned over and examined the marks. “Pulses, varying in intensity. How would your mother guess this one out of all of them?”
Grinning, Sheel told her: “Because I used to send her messages in it, with the code enclosed. It was one of the special things we shared. A vestige of this system survives. Ships sometimes use it for distress.”
A squeak of a gasp came from Darame. “The dot-dash distress code!”
“Very good. I am glad you are on my side. Blast The Path, I cannot remember this letter.… Yes I do.” His hand flowed along after the first line. “Just a few more key — “ Sheel stopped abruptly, and when he did not begin again, Darame cleared her throat.
“Well?”
“Damn. Damn, damn, damn!” He pressed down so hard on the stick that the pad protested, throwing a crackle of energy.
“What? Have they found Tobias?” Reacting to the alarm in her voice, Sheel forced himself to grow calmer.
“No, no, not that.… I just cannot believe… And she told me she would not meddle in my reign!” A short laugh which was almost a snort bubbled out of him.
“Sheel…” Darame’s tone was familiar, and rarely heard; it was the only warning he would receive.
Looking over at her, he smiled slightly and said: “I brought you here, so I owe you something.” She nodded tranquilly in answer. “My mother and Quenby Ragäree have apparently been discussing recent events. They also knew about the deaths in Dielaan — do not ask me how, she uses magic or something. Being my mother, she is too smart to think such a wave of deaths could be the usual skulduggery of Dielaan politics. Riva and Quenby have decided that the only way to prevent such interference in the future is to have one family take care of off-world relations. They seem to think I am the perfect person to do it.”
“Hummm…” It was a speculative sound, matching the expression on her face. In her black eyes Sheel thought he detected a sparkle of humor.
“If there was the slightest possibility that you could have communicated with them, I would accuse you of suggesting it.” A touch of asperity laced his voice, but the entire situation was so ludicrous he was having trouble fighting laughter. Something in Darame’s expression almost made him chuckle, until he realized how gaunt she appeared. Still losing weight? Without thinking he reached for her arm.
A stern eye pinned him to the table; he hastily withdrew his hand. “You have done enough of that today,” she said severely. “Save it. I am just tired.”
“If you are sure.…” He knew his mind was wandering back to the message even as he spoke.
It could not help but return to such thoughts. And Quenby Ragäree agreed… What news did Riva have from Seedar? Things must be much worse for Quenby to agree to such an idea, even if they just wanted him to act as a facade and mouthpiece.
“Livia is here.” Casual, and very soft…
“Ridiculous. Dielaan cannot agree among themselves, do you think they would trust Atare with such a mission?” Irritation was rising; he started carefully framing an answer to the message.
“Not necessarily. But you might convince Livia to trust you.”
Sheel started laughing; he could not help it. “How?” he finally got out between gasps.
Her face was thoughtful. “I will work on it. What will you tell your mother?”
“Not to do anything until she hears from me again. Sweet Mendülay, I will have to put some sort of harness on her.…” Busy translating his thoughts into code, he scarcely noticed Darame squeeze his shoulder and move off down the corridor toward the glow of the firepit.
TWOHUNDRED EIGHTYONEDAY, TIERCE
Somehow Mailan had ended up with the women. Normally she kept an eye on Sheel, but as he was still inside asleep, she left Crow standing over the fissure leading into his bed chamber and followed Darame, Avis, and Camelle outside. That they might end up sharing the grove with The Ragäree of Dielaan had not been expected. Mailan was grateful she had Haven and Faith as support.
Regal in fine black wool littered with multicolored threads, the Dielaan form of mourning, the woman had brought her children with her. She had three of them, the eldest an adolescent boy, his sister and brother a few years younger. They were occupying themselves climbing among the rocks and trees lining the grove, while The Ragäree paced, her gaze searching the whiteness of sand to the east.
Watching the tableau that was played out before her, Mailan gained even greater respect for Darame’s skills at manipulation. Introductions and greetings were a trifle stiff; it was difficult to be friendly when a half-dozen armed Dielaan warriors ringed the area. Yet Darame seemed oblivious to it, suggesting that morning saffra be brought to the grove, sharing old cook Merme’s wonderful muffins, asking about their trip and leaving “holes” in her comments so the Dielaaners could volunteer what they wished about the situation in Dielaan.… In a way it was frightening how easy it seemed.
And if you were helping the others instead of us? That thought was troubling. Her interest in Sheel and Avis, at least, was genuine — Mailan had gone above normal interference levels to make it quite clear to arriving guaard just how much Sheel valued her.
In fact, what was not being said was almost more interesting than what was being said. Avis’s pregnancy thawed The Ragäree’s manner enough that she admitted she might be pregnant again — it was too soon to tell. Avis volunteering that Sheel could not only tell her if it was so but could probably tell her the sex interested her greatly. The Ragäree approved of Camelle’s presence, with such a young and inexperienced fledgling mother; she did not say so in words, but it was evident.
You know how to study your enemies, Mailan could not help but think. This woman was careful to include Avis and Camelle in the conversation as much as they wished, but it was obvious she was dealing with Darame. The off-worlder is too clever to slip up and give something away, like Avis, but she might trade information, yes? How Crow would enjoy this business.… Mailan’s gaze flitted across the Dielaan warriors. Bored stiff — except for one, who seemed more concerned with eavesdropping than with the guaard across from him.
We must be careful to schedule those who especially dislike Dielaaners during the evening, away from the interlopers — Mailan stiffened suddenly as she realized what Darame was saying.
“You should have seen The Atare’s face when he read that message! He never wanted the rule, anyway, and now two ragärees think he should start acting as an ambassador for Nuala as well!” Darame’s face had a broad smile as she spoke, balancing her mug carefully on her fur-wrapped knee. A message arrived last night, in code, and Sheel had yet to confide in his guaard —
“If we had a central clearing point for off-worlders, we could isolate the embassies,” The Ragäree said thoughtfully, sipping her saffra. “My brother always thought uniting our trade would be a good idea, but our uncle was so — “ she broke off suddenly, as if remembering whom she was addressing.
“Ah, yes, there is a bit of… competition… among the clans, I understand.” Darame looked both innocent and interested.
Smiling, The Ragäree returned to her saffra. “Come now, surely you know some of our history.”
“Actually, Ragäree, things have been so hectic, there has been little time for lessons!” The women both smiled over this, as Darame added a few words about the recent trials and tribulations of the Atare line. She told no lies, and was very careful what she did tell, but…
I had no idea we were that good. It took a great deal of willpower to keep from laughing tightly. So many lucky chances, smoothed into preplanned counterpoint by Darame’s speech. We sound like the Axis Guardians or something. She glanced at Haven and found the man surreptitiously straightening. Dear Mendülay, he believes it, too! Or wants to. Either irritation or embarrassment — for she was the center of all this bravery and cleverness, at least in this version of the story — was about to betray Mailan, so she took a slow walk of the perimeter to calm herself.
One of The Ragäree’s sons had returned and was now seated near his mother, heartily bored as well. Mailan found the second, and younger, as she walked; he was leaning against one of the cedars, his focus toward the horizon but his ears obviously soaking up everything. Nodding at him, Mailan kept moving.
“So Seedar came to you…” came the Ragäree’s voice.
“. . . if a man can keep himself and his heir alive, she reasoned, he might have ideas for the problems in Seedar.…”
“And you helped them. At least she did not go to Kilgore.…”
What could the Ragäree be thinking? Mailan weighed it as she walked, constantly counting the warriors and checking for unusual movements or tracks. Remembering the long enmity among the high houses, what could she possibly think but that an alliance was being formed — and without Dielaan? Any house joining up with one of the big three could change the balance of trade drastically. Darame could be sending them back into war — But then again… What I would not give for your tricky brain. You paint Sheel as extremely intelligent, a strong potential ruler, allowing his enemies to make their own nooses — yet reluctant to use the power at his fingertips. Will you have Dielaan down our throats, thinking us weak?
“I suspect he will kill this captain with his bare hands, though,” came Darame’s confiding voice.
“He is a healer,” The Ragäree objected.
“He is a king,” Darame corrected. “Who happens to be a healer. Humanity has a long tradition of kings as healers; but if they must bring war before healing, it is done. You would not believe it, Livia — he just looks at people and they dissolve. I wish I knew how he did it. The slightest change of inflection, and guaard come running! He…”
Mailan had moved out of earshot once again. When she finally completed the circuit, the conversation had shifted to Avis’s expected daughter and possible names. Taking up her position across from Avis and Darame, Mailan studied the off-worlder. Wrapped tightly against cold despite the spring starlight streaming into the glade.… Warmer days had not really helped this woman; she looked a bit pale. Closer observation indicated she was still nursing along the same cup of saffra. Surely The Atare would have noticed if she were ill, yet he was so preoccupied lately.…
“I will see if The Atare is awake,” The Ragäree said suddenly, setting down her cup. “This trade partnership must be discussed thoroughly, every limit and last iota. What a wonderful idea to keep the small clans in line! Tensar Dielaan would have been pleased.” Without further comment The Ragäree rose and indicated she wished to walk to the cavern. Guaard stepped aside for her as she led her men and children from
the grove.
Total silence was finally broken by a whimper from Avis. Glancing at the woman, Mailan was not certain if she was about to laugh or cry. Rising from the rock she sat upon, Avis turned to Darame.
“She thinks… I think she thinks this is all her idea! How did you do that?” Dropping to a whisper, Avis continued: “Darame, we have been fighting that tribe for a thousand years, and you have the mother of their heir thinking about a treaty!”
Smiling slightly, Darame said: “Do not become over-optimistic. We cannot trust her further than we could toss her… but right now that does not matter. Go quickly and be there to translate for Sheel when she starts spouting off. She is smart enough to keep twisting the vine.”
Disconcerted, Avis began: “But you would be — ”
“I will follow you. Hurry!” Her gesture was so convincing that both Haven and Faith obediently turned and escorted the women toward the cavern. Mailan was so intrigued she did not notice Darame had moved until she heard a familiar and gut-wrenching sound: that of someone losing the contents of their stomach. She bounded over to the off-worlder.
Waving her off, Darame waited, poised, but the spasm seemed to have passed. Methodically using a napkin to wipe her lips, she gestured for the half-filled cup of saffra, which she used to rinse her mouth.
“I will find Xena — ” Mailan began.
“No, you will not. You will wait until I have a little more color and then you will escort me to the caverns and put me where the light does not fall on my face,” Darame said in a voice that allowed no contradiction. “Sheel is going to be both annoyed and bewildered when Livia descends on him, and I need to be there.”
“But… he knows you are sick?”
Darame carefully wrapped the fur cloak around herself. “I hope not. He has enough to concern him without this little complication. I am not going to tell him for awhile, and neither are you.” That black gaze made Tsuga Dielaan’s threats seem like child’s play.
Fires of Nuala Page 38