Griffin's Shadow (43 page)

“She is so beautiful!” the weaver exclaimed.

“Yes, she is, and despite her impure blood, she’ll be able to pass for okui. Very fortunate.”

Sonoe felt and saw the flash of anger, quickly veiled, that the weaver let slip by her mask of politeness. She smiled inwardly.

No doubt this hikui believes she and the rest of her kind should have equal status with okui under Alasiri law. Amusing, really. But if Jelena succeeds in influencing the king, he might seriously consider altering the law.

That is not so amusing.

“Sateyuka, I’m so glad you’re here.”

Jelena had awakened, and now sat up in bed, her eyes riveted on the cradle that held her daughter. Love for the baby flowed from her, sweet and pure, like spring water. Sonoe felt a brief pang of longing, but ruthlessly suppressed it.

Sateyuka smiled. “Your daughter is hungry,” she said, scooping up the infant and placing her into Jelena’s outstretched arms. Jelena kissed the silky cap of dark hair atop the baby’s head and snuggled back against the pillows. Pulling the neck of her shift open, she held Hatora’s head to her breast.

“Hatora must know who I am already,” Jelena said, her faced flushed with happiness. “Is that possible? She does have Talent, doesn’t she? Sonoe, you and my aunt Taya and Mother Amara have all said so, and I did talk to her every day while she was inside me.”

“Hatora’s Talent is very strong. Of course she knows you,” Sonoe replied.

A knock sounded at the door and it swung inward, admitting Eikko. She carried a tray laden with a teapot, cups, a small carafe of wine and a single glass.

“Umm, tea,” Jelena sighed. “Is there food yet, Eikko?”

“It will be here soon, Highness.” Eikko brushed by Sonoe and placed the tea tray down on a small side table. She wiped her hands on her skirt and, flicking a glance at Sonoe, turned to address Jelena. “Lady Amara sends a message to remind Lady Sonoe to give you your medicine. She’ll be here shortly.”

“She did not have to remind me!” Sonoe muttered, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice. She picked up the vial of medicine from the bedside table, removed the stopper and carefully counted out ten drops into the wine glass.

She then poured in a splash of wine and filled the rest with water. She handed the glass to Jelena, who took a sip and made a face.

“It’s bitter!” she exclaimed in disgust.

“Yes, well, if it tasted good, it wouldn’t work!” Sonoe said, laughing. “At least, that’s what my mother always said to me.”

“I never knew my mother,” Jelena sighed. The ghost of an old sadness crept across her humanish features and lingered in her hazel eyes. “I loved Claudia, the woman who raised me, like a mother, but I always felt that a part of me was missing because I never got a chance to know the woman who bore me.” She looked down at the suckling baby. “I never want my daughter to feel that pain, that emptiness, but I fear she will because she’ll never know her father.”

“But you’re wrong, Jelena,” Sateyuka said. “Hatora will know her father. You’ll make sure of it, as will her grandfather Sakehera.”

“The weaver is right, Jelena,” Sonoe agreed. “You know Lord Sen is already head over heels in love with this baby!”

Jelena smiled. “Yes, he is, isn’t he? It’s because he misses his son so much. Ashi and he shared a very special bond. It caused a lot of trouble between Ashi and his brother. I just hope…” Jelena’s words trailed off into silence.

“You hope what?” Sonoe prompted.

Jelena hesitated a moment, then continued. “I just hope Sadaiyo doesn’t view my child as a threat to his son. If my father-in-law shows any favoritism toward Hatora because she’s Ashinji’s daughter, Sadaiyo might make things very difficult for her.”

“How can he, Jelena? Hatora is of royal birth,” Sateyuka interjected. “She is totally protected—she’s the king’s granddaughter. You have no reason to fear your husband’s brother, or anyone else for that matter.” Sonoe noticed Sateyuka looking at her with a guarded expression. Bitter waves of resentment lapped at Sonoe’s mental shields, all directed at her.

Sonoe cared not a whit. “Again, the weaver…Sateyuka, is it?...is correct,” she said. “You should listen to your friend, Jelena. She is obviously a very wise woman.”

That should sweeten the cranky old cow’s mood a bit.

The weaver pulled up a chair and placed it beside the bed, positioned so she sat facing both mother and child. She threw a glance over her shoulder at Sonoe, sharp as a dagger.

So much for flattery
, Sonoe thought.

The servant girl Eikko now passed around the tea. As she handed Sonoe her cup, the mage performed a quick surface scan of the girl’s mind and mentally nodded in satisfaction. She could find no trace of last night’s occurrences in the hikui’s memories.

“I think Hatora’s had enough,” Jelena announced. She covered herself back up and handed off the infant to Sateyuka, who lifted the child to her shoulder and began patting the tiny back. Jelena unsuccessfully tried to stifle a huge yawn. “I’m still so tired,” she mumbled. “I think I’ll rest my eyes for awhile. Wake me when breakfast comes.” Almost before the last word had passed her lips, she had fallen asleep.

The weaver rose from her chair to replace the baby in her cradle, then sat back down, ramrod straight, face impassive, all but openly daring Sonoe to try to make her leave Jelena’s side.

Sonoe sighed. “So, Sateyuka. Do you have a family?” she asked, attempting to make conversation.

“Yes,” the weaver replied, and snapped her mouth shut as if to prevent the escape of any more words than were strictly necessary. Her eyes refused to move from Jelena’s slumbering form.

“I’m not your enemy, weaver,” Sonoe said.

“Perhaps not,” Sateyuka replied. Her expression became thoughtful as she at last turned to look at Sonoe. “But if it weren’t for Jelena, you and I could never sit in the same room together. I stand against all that you believe in.”

“I believe okui must lead and hikui must follow,” Sonoe replied. “Our blood gives us that right.”

“And yet, you treat Jelena as okui.”

“That is different and you know it!”

“Oh, is it? Explain to me how this is so!” Sateyuka’s eyes flashed in challenge.

Sonoe shook her head. “This argument is pointless. Perhaps it would be wise for me to withdraw for a while. I’ll be in the sitting room if Jelena needs me.”

Outside the door, Sonoe came face to face with Amara. “I’ve left the weaver to watch Jelena,” Sonoe said. “She’s fed the baby already and is asleep again.”

Amara nodded, “Good.”

Sonoe glanced over her shoulder at the closed bedchamber door, then switched to mindspeech.
I’m worried, Amara. Now that Jelena is a mother, I fear her concern for her child will interfere with our plans.

I, too, have considered this, but once Jelena knows the full truth, once she knows what’s at stake, I’m confident she’ll put aside all personal concerns and submit to her fate.

I wish I could be as sure as you are. The love she has for her daughter may be too strong. I fear she’ll be unable to willingly leave the baby behind.

We will assure my daughter-in-law that Hatora will be raised in the protective fold of strong families, both my own and the Onjaras... No. She will go bravely.

“I think I’ll return to the king’s quarters. Jelena won’t wake for awhile yet,” Sonoe said aloud. “The weaver watches over her like a she-wolf does her cub.” Sonoe’s expression made clear her distain.

“Something is happening,” Amara said softly. “Last night, I had a very disturbing dream.”

“Oh?” Sonoe responded carefully.

“I felt the presence of our enemy, as if he were very near. He is growing stronger each day, Sonoe. We must begin preparations for the Sundering. I had hoped to delay it a while longer, but circumstances are forcing our hand. War with the Soldarans will be upon us soon, and I think we must perform the Working before then.”

“I agree,” Sonoe answered. “Our entire attentions must remain focused on the defense of Alasiri once the Soldarans attack. But aren’t you forgetting one very important thing?”

“No, I’m well aware of our lack of a full complement. The only solution I can think of is to recruit practitioners from outside the Society to make up the difference.”

“Risky, but perhaps necessary,” Sonoe agreed. “I know of several who might serve.”

“I’ll leave it to you, then,” Amara said. She opened the bedroom door and disappeared inside, closing it softly behind her. Sonoe nodded in satisfaction.

Yes, leave everything to me,
she thought.

A Secret, A Threat, And A Surprise

Ashinji!

Jelena?

Ashinji looked around in confusion. He felt certain he had just heard Jelena call out to him
.

How is that possible?

“You all right?” Seijon poked him in the ribs with the blunt tip of his practice sword.

Ashinji shook his head and refocused on the boy. “Yes, I thought…well, never mind. The combination I just taught you, show it to me again.”

He spent another hour with the boy, putting him through several more drills before he called an end to the session.

“You’re improving by leaps and bounds, Seijon. I think you’ll be ready to move on to live steel before long.”

The hikui boy beamed. “I think I’m ready now!” he exclaimed.

Ashinji shook his head. “Not yet! Don’t be so eager; it’s a big step. Once you start with a real sword, you’re going to get cut. That’s guaranteed. Think you’re ready for real pain?”

Seijon snorted. “I was knife fighting in the street long before I ended up here. I know what it’s like to get cut.”

Ashinji regarded the boy thoughtfully, remembering what Gran had told him of the young hikui’s brutal childhood.

“Go and get cleaned up. It’s almost dinnertime,” he directed. “Give me your sword.” Seijon nodded and handed him the practice blade, then scampered off toward the bath house.

Ashinji lifted his arm, sniffed, and grimaced. He gathered up the pile of assorted practice weapons and went to stow them away before heading for the bath house.

The Soldarans did not share the elves’ reverence for cleanliness, but they did wash sometimes, usually after strenuous exercise. The slaves’ bath house, a fairly simple affair, consisted of two water pumps set up on concrete pads at either end of a walled-off area of the yard, just behind the barracks. Stone-lined drains carried waste water away, and a canvas awning provided shade during the summer and protection from rain during the rest of the year.

Seijon had already stripped and hung his clothes on a peg driven into the wall. Ashinji noted with mild surprise how well-muscled the boy had become over the past few months.

No wonder his blows are so hard!
Perhaps Gran is right, and I won’t need to worry over his safety when the time comes for us to try our escape.

Ashinji had yet to tell Seijon of his and Gran’s decision to leave. He didn’t want to get the boy’s hopes up in case they couldn’t figure a way out, and the less he knew, the better. It reduced the risk to all of them.

Ashinji pulled off his tunic, breeches and sandals, and hung them next to Seijon’s. A chilly breeze skirled around the interior of the bath house, lifting the awning and setting it to thrumming against the ropes holding it in place.

“I think it’s going to start raining again,” Ashinji commented. He glanced upward at the flapping canvas.

“Yeah,” Seijon responded. Water gurgled and splashed from the wide mouth of the pump.

Ashinji undid his braid and raked his fingers through his hair several times. It had grown so long, he had taken to looping his queue around his neck when he fought.

I’ll ask Gran to trim it
when I see her this evening.

Seijon stepped back so Ashinji could douse himself. He leaned forward and let the cold water sluice over his head and shoulders. His mind skipped back, alighting on the memory of the first time he and Jelena had taken a bath together. The smell of her hair, wet and scented with herbs, the feel of her hot skin against his—he ached all over with longing and the grief of loss. The comforts of the bath house at Kerala Castle were a far cry from the cold water of the de Guera yard.

He stood up, gasping, and pushed his dripping hair away from his face.

“Hey, look who’s here! It’s the tink and his little doxie.”

Seijon reacted as if struck. Trembling, he shrank back and muttered, “Shut up, Leal.”

“What’s the matter, doxie? Truth hurts? The whole yard knows you let him give it to you in the ass.”

Leal strutted into the bath house, his tunic streaked with sweat. A fresh welt twisted like a petulant mouth across the top of his shaven head, testament to his last bout in the arena. He snorted and launched a gobbet of spit that just missed Seijon’s face.

“Leave him alone, Leal,” Ashinji said quietly, and moved to stand between the man and the boy.

“What are you going to do if I choose not to?”

The awning flapped and boomed overhead. The first patter of rain sprayed the canvas.