Dragon in Exile - eARC (13 page)

Perhaps she could ask Kareen to write her, when…Daav yos’Phelium returned home from the care of Korval’s “allies.” He had been wounded; she would like to know that he had recovered well. That he was…happy.

…or perhaps it was best not to know. Best, perhaps, to begin, however belatedly, to heal herself of what Ella had maintained all along was an unnatural fascination.

Yes, she thought. It was time to let Jen Sar go, fully. He had made it quite clear that their lives were no longer running in parallel. Perhaps she would take a new
onagrata
, when she returned from her sabbatical. The house was too big for only her and the cats.

Or perhaps she would ask Ella to live with her…that might be best of all.

First things first, however. She should inform her hosts of her intended departure, which meant researching the ships due in to Surebleak Port and which might be going…

“In a green study, Scholar?” came a voice lately very familiar to her.

Kamele opened her eyes, and turned on the pathway to smile at Kareen yos’Phelium.

“In a sense. I was thinking that, my concerns having been put to rest, it’s time for me to continue with my studies, and leave the house in peace.”

Kareen tipped her head, her dark eyes quizzical.

“I had not observed any lack of peace generated by your presence. Indeed, it may be said that the honor of caring for a guest has imposed a certain degree of…cohesiveness in the face our changed circumstances. And—forgive me!—was it not your purpose to speak with my brother?”

“It had been,” Kamele admitted. “You must understand that his departure was very irregular and not what I’d come to expect from him. In my ignorance, I became concerned that he had been…coerced, or otherwise stood in need of a friend. Now that I’ve seen that he chose to return, and is in no need of—of a rescue…”

She faltered, her cheeks warm.

“Though he may yet stand in need of a friend,” Kareen murmured. “However, it is perfectly comprehensible that you may find time hanging upon your hands, when you have been accustomed to having occupation. Indeed, it is precisely that realization which moved me to come in search of you. I wonder if you might accompany me into the city.”

“Certainly, if I can be of use…”

“I believe that you may be,” Kareen said, offering her arm. They turned toward the house.

“The case is that I intend to set up my own establishment, such as I have been accustomed to having on Liad. My son believes that this is unnecessary; and in any wise has been too busy with his duties to assist in locating something suitable. The fact remains that I am inconveniently fixed here, if I will continue
my
work, which I certainly must do. I therefore applied to an associate for her assistance. Today, she sends word that she believes she may have found something which will answer my needs, gives an address, and proposes to meet me there in two hours, local.

“I wonder if you would do me the honor of bearing me company, and also of giving me your opinion of this house that Audrey has found.”

She had, Kamele thought, been wanting to see more of the city. Such as it was.

“I’d be delighted,” she said.

Chapter Fourteen

The Bedel

“Are these enough grapes to make wine?” Memit asked, eying their small arbor doubtfully.

Rys laughed; a mistake that made his bruised face ache.

“No, not nearly enough. For wine, there must be an excess of grapes—five kilograms will yield about four liters.

“However, we have enough to give to Jin, to make jelly, or to offer raw, as part of the evening meal.”

Memit nodded, her eyes on the arbor, and her mind obviously on the subject of grape production.

“Will the harvest increase?”

In truth, he doubted it. He had doubted the packet of vines that Memit had found, engineered for quick growth in poor soil, would yield grapes at all. He had been wrong in that; the vines
had
grown quickly, putting forth pale red fruits almost too heavy for them, whereupon he and Memit built the arbor to support the fragile tendrils. He had still half-expected the fruits to kill the vines. That they had managed a harvest at all was notable, and Rys suspected that one harvest was all the engineered plant was capable of producing.

“Grapes,” he said now, “are difficult. I told you how my clan grew row upon row of grapes, halfway up the side of a mountain. They were a special grape we had nurtured, that loved the mountain soil, and the cooler air. There were other grapes, that loved the heat, and the dry soil of the near desert. Each variety had its preferences; each yielded its own flavor, and choose its own form.

“The desert grapes were small and green and tart; ours, children of the mountain, were round and red. The desert grapes made a white wine that tasted as fresh as the clouds in a summer sky. The wine that came from our vineyard was as red as heart’s blood and as sweet as love.”

Memit had turned to look at him, a soft smile on her thin, hard face.

“Our Rys bids fair to become a poet.”

He felt his cheeks warm, and shook his head, carefully.

“I fear I am eloquent only on subjects dear to me.”

“Well, that’s as should be, isn’t it? But tell me now, Rys Silvertongue, are these grapes jam or are they supper?”

“There’s only one way to be certain.” He reached up and plucked a small bunch, and offered it to Memit. She took two, and he did. He raised his as if it were a glass and he offering a toast. Memit copied him, and they each tasted of the pale fruits.

It was as he had feared; the skin was strong, the pulp grainy, and the taste…bland. Even had they produced enough to make the attempt, there was no heart in these grapes; nothing from which to make any wine worth drinking.

Nor were they table grapes. Oh, they could be eaten at table well enough, but they would scarcely provide counterpoint to a salty cheese.

He sighed, and looked up to find Memit watching his face.

“Jelly?” she asked.

“Raisins,” he said definitively. “I will speak with Jin.”

Memit nodded.

“Maybe,” she said, “there are other vines—vines like your family knew, or even the desert vines—to be found.”

“Maybe there are,” he said, “but we have neither a desert nor a mountain.” He hesitated. “It was said to me that Surebleak ought to have its own vintage.”

“Is that possible?”

“It may be. I must…dream upon it.”

Memit nodded at this prosaic answer, and dusted her hands off on the knees of her pants.

“Well.” She used her chin to point at the cluster he still held. “Might as well bring that along to Jin.”

“Yes,” he said. He added the grapes to the harvest basket and swept it to his shoulder, grimacing slightly at the protest of hard-used muscles.

He and Memit left the garden together.

They were at the edge of the common when they were joined by Kezzi, Silain’s apprentice. For a wonder, her braid was neat, and her clothes not
much
askew.

“Rys, the
luthia
sends that you should have dinner at her hearth.”

He paused, looking into the child’s brown face. A summons from the
luthia
, of course, was not to be ignored.

“Say to the
luthia
that I will gladly come to her as soon as I have brought the basket to Jin,” he told Kezzi.

“I’ll take the basket,” Memit said brusquely. “Don’t keep the
luthia
waiting.”

“The raisins—”

“I’ll give her the grapes and tell her what you told me. After the
luthia
, you can talk to Jin about raisins. Kezzi, are you going with Rys?”

“No, I’m to take the meal at Jin’s hearth.”

Memit gave him a stare, as if this were significant. He surrendered the basket to her, and turned his steps to the
luthia’s
hearth.

* * * * *

“Grandmother? You wished to see me?”

Silain looked up from the tangle of beads and ribbons on her lap.

“Rys, my child. It comes to me from Pulka that you were attacked in the World Above yesterday. I wonder why you did not tell me yourself.”

He knelt at the edge of her rug and looked into her face, spare and beautiful with her years.

“It was late, and I had taken no lasting harm; there was no reason to break your rest. Rafin made sure of my hand, and my leg, before Udari returned and we retired to our tent. This morning, we went early Above, to find meat for the evening meal, then I was promised to Memit, in the garden.”

“You are tender of an old woman’s rest.”

She raised her hand and touched light fingers to his face. He flinched; then sighed when a gentle warmth eased his bruises.

“You have experienced no ache in the head, or confusion of your purpose?”

“No, Grandmother.”

“That is well, then. Will you share the meal with me?”

“I am glad to share the meal. Shall I fetch it from Jin’s hearth?”

“No need; Jin sent a basket early. It’s in the warming box. If you’ll serve it out, I’ll put these away.”

“Certainly,” he said.

Carefully, he brought the bowls out from the box, and carried them to the hearth. Silain’s he gave to her; his, he placed by his rug while he fetched tea, in two metal cups.

“Ah, that is well!” Silain said appreciatively, using a piece of flatbread to scoop up the saucy ground meat.

Rys tasted his, and agreed. He had doubts, when he and Udari had found the joint. It had been dry, and tough-looking, which accounted for its place near the back of the butcher’s bin. It had been a large piece of meat, and Udari had no doubts at all, so it came back with them, to the
kompani
, and was given to Jin, who had frowned, and said, “Stew.”

Apparently, it had been too tough even for stew, thus the coarse grinding and mixing with spicy sauce.

“Tell me,” Silain said, scooping up more meat, “about this attack.”

He obliged her, seeking to be matter-of-fact, and neither downplay nor overstate his danger.

“It troubles me that these men knew of a city below the warehouses,” he said.

“It troubles me, as well,” Silain said serenely. “Alosha has spoken to me of men who loiter near this gate and that—looking, waiting. So, not all of our secrets are known, but it is worrisome that any have escaped. Alosha thinks that new gates will buy us time. He ponders the question of whether these men might be let inside, to meet with ghosts and monsters.”

“That might not be…wise, for that would assure them that there
is
something beyond the gate.”

“So he also reasoned. The headman will do nothing rash.”

The headman was, in Rys’ opinion, a thorough thinker. He would dream, and talk to those of the
kompani
, and dream, and think until he had found a solution.

“What else have you been about?” Silain asked.

“I have spoken with Droi. She tells me that we have made between us a daughter. She will have curly hair.”

Silain laughed softly.

“Droi’s Sight rarely deceives her. What took you Above, yesterday?”

“I wished to find what there was to be found,” he said. “I had intended to come to your hearth this evening, or perhaps tomorrow. I found a thing for you, and another thing, for Kezzi.”

In fact, one of the readers he had found had been broken during last night’s affair. The unbroken one, he had decided, upon learning of this casualty, would go to Kezzi. He could easily find another, for himself, the next time he was in the City Above.

“I look forward to receiving your gift,” Silain said gently.

She set her plate aside, and he did the same.

“Grandson, there is a thing that I want you to do.”

He looked up into her eyes.

“I will be pleased to do whatever is required of me.”

She smiled, and extended a hand to touch his knee.

“You’re a good boy,” she said indulgently. “It’s not so much of a burden. I only want you to dream for me, Rys.”

He blinked. The Bedel archived their knowledge and their skills in dreams; thus, to dream, was to learn. In the time since he had been returned to his soul, given back his life, and been accepted as a true son of the
kompani
, he had dreamed many dreams, including the Bedel language, and the mysteries of those devices that Pulka constructed, that his brother Val Con dignified as
Old Tech
, with a certain edge of…distrust. In order that he become a more able assistant to Memit, among the plants, he had dreamed vistas of indoor gardens, which had led him to pursue dreams of lighting systems…

…which had sent him again to Pulka, dragging his unwilling brother to the garden level to discuss light tubes and gamma tuning…

Hastily, he brought his attention back to the moment.

“I will be pleased to dream as the
luthia
directs,” he said.

Silain smiled. “That’s well. But you must know that these dreams I would have you dream must be anchored in your waking mind. So, you will also come to me every day.” She paused, as if considering, then smiled.

“You see that I heap new burdens upon you. Have you taken your turn escorting your sister Kezzi to her brother’s house?”

“Not yet,
luthia
. Shall I?”

“Yes. Beginning tomorrow morning. You will tell your brother Vinchi that the
luthia
has put this upon you.”

“Yes,” he said, wondering how walking Kezzi to catch the car to school would net him a lesson with Silain.

“Yes,” she repeated. “And when you have seen her and her brother off, you will return here, to this hearth, where we will share tea, and do what else is needful.”

Well, that hadn’t been difficult, had it? Rys thought, and smiled.

“I will do as the
luthia
has said,” he promised. “However, if I am to find my brother Vinchi with this message, I will need to leave you now…”

Because Vinchi watched the entrances until the hour after the common meal, whereupon he betook himself to their sister Bazit’s tent, and he would not be pleased to be interrupted there.

“That is well,” Silain said, smiling at him. “I’m pleased to have shared a meal with you. Here, now.” She reached into her sleeve and brought out a set of tiles in their silver frame.

Rys took it in his natural hand, and stowed it carefully in a pocket of his vest.

“May I refresh your tea before I go, Grandmother?” he asked.

“That would be a gentle kindness,” she said, handing him the battered metal mug.

He rose, poured the tea and brought it to her, pausing to consider the plates, in need of washing, and Jin’s box…

“Kezzi will tend to it,” Silain told him. “Go, now. Find Vinchi.”

“I will,” he said, and bent to kiss her cheek.

* * *

The back seat of the so-called “landau” was warm and spacious; the seat cushions took Kamele’s shape immediately. Compared to the taxicab she had ridden in from the port to Korval’s house—well, there was no comparison, really. The taxi had been a utility vehicle, serviceable, practical, and well-matched to its tasks.

The landau was…perhaps practical, if it was necessary that its occupants arrive at their destination in a state of unruffled euphoria. Indeed, if there was fault to be found, it was that the temperature in the passenger compartment was just slightly too warm.

The large arms-man, Diglon, was at the controls in the front of the vehicle. In order to accommodate his length, the driver’s seat and the window between the passengers compartment and the driver had been moved back, so Kareen had told her.

“Are you comfortable, Scholar? I fear we are somewhat cramped with the new arrangement.”

Kamele laughed.

“I think that the two of us could work together comfortably in here all day long,” she said. “I’m not at all cramped; in fact, I’m feeling quite decadent.”

“You are kind to say so,” Kareen answered, settling back into her chair with a sigh. “It is so very pleasant to be properly warm.”

“Is Liad a…warm world?” Kamele asked.

“It is a temperate world, with what our good weatherman, Mr. Brunner, styles a
moderate
climate. Mr. Brunner, you understand, does not approve of
moderate
climates; they offer no scope. One gathers that Surebleak holds greater challenges to one of his calling. Those of us who do not aspire to Mr. Brunner’s proficiency found the climate…unremarkable. Indeed, I rather miss the tedium of the moderate, when all I might need to consider, upon walking out, was whether or not it was raining.”

The car began to move down the drive; Kamele looked out at the browning lawn, and heard Kareen sigh again.

“We will have Surebleak grasses in place by the next growing season, the gardener tells me. She thinks it a good thing, as I shall, if the lawns will be green again.”

This was more complaint than she was used to hearing from Kareen.

“Is it permitted to say that I enter into your sadness, for the loss of your home?” she asked, carefully.

Kareen turned her head away from the window and met Kamele’s eyes. She was silent for so long that Kamele began to worry that she had overstepped badly. Kareen was normally the most patient of teachers; really very like Jen Sar in her approach.

“It is permitted that one offer condolences upon the loss of kin,” she said slowly. “Other, more minor, losses, such as those taken at dice, or cards, or from the ’change—those are not mentioned, being too trivial. Unless, of course, one deliberately wishes to push a point.”