Irsud (11 page)

Burash cupped his hand under her chin and tilted her face so that she was looking at him. “Where are you, Leyta? Have you heard a word I said?”

Aleytys blinked slowly. “I heard you. What drives the kipu?”

“Drives?” He shifted slightly, easing his cramped legs. “Ambition. She needs the old one's backing and she likes holding the whip over nayids who despise her. The other cities out there.…” He swung his hand in a half circle, calling to her memory the scattered buttes thrusting up out of the fertile plane, each one with a walled city at its base. “Every rab maku on the council of cityqueens has ambition as strong as hers. But they're all terrified of the old one and too jealous of each other to pool their strengths. As long as the kipu holds the queen, the kipu rules the kibrata.”

“Then I'm the visible symbol of her power.” She sat up and rubbed her hands together. “Good. That should give me the edge I need.”

“More than that. She's just as frightened of the old one as the rest of them.”

“Huh? You mean she really believes all that nonsense?”

“Nonsense?” He pressed his lips together and stared somberly down at his knees. “A thousand years prove otherwise, Leyta. A thousand heavy heavy years.”

“So.” She spread out a hand and contemplated the fingers. “One. Scare hell out of everyone I can with the gestures and other things you coach me in.” She folded down her forefinger. “Two. Work on the kipu till she gets to wondering how her head is sitting on her shoulders.” She folded the second finger down. “Three. Figure out a way to publicly support the kipu so she'll have a reason to bolster the illusion.” She pressed the third finger down. “Four. Demand as much freedom as I can get.” Smiling tautly at him she pressed down her last finger and closed her thumb over her head.

Burash jumped to his feet and moved quickly to the dressing table. Over his shoulder he said, “You said two hours?”

“Yes.” She looked at him curiously. “Why?”

He came back, his hands full of bone hairpins. “There's still time for bath and time for rehearsing.” He knelt beside her and twisted the long hair into a knot on top of her head, driving the pins in with swift efficient flicks of his fingers. “And I'll have to find the right thing for you to wear.”

An hour later Aleytys slipped her arms into the sleeves of a blue-green velvet robe heavily embroidered with knobby gold thread in the ubiquitous floral patterns. Burash smoothed the folds over her breasts, pulling them into rigid formal lines from shoulder to foot. “Remember, the old one was nonstop conscious of her clothes and her postures. She studied effect at all times, seldom moved spontaneously except under the influence of extreme irritation. Keep yourself in hand always, Leyta. You can't afford a slip, especially since this is so alien to your temperament.” He stood up and touched her cheek very gently.

She moved her head slightly and touched her lips to his palm, then backed off and danced lightly in a circle, laughing and swinging her arms around in wide circles, tangling her hair and destroying the neat formality of the folds.

“Leyta!”

“A last fling, Burash.” She quieted and smoothed out the tangles. As her hands caressed the sensuously soft material, she slanted a glance at Burash. “Where'd you get this gorgeous thing?”

“Don't ask, love.” “He grinned at her. “Watch the hem, Leyta. I had to cut off the bottom or you'd be drowning in the folds. Now. Don't muss yourself again; Sukall should be here any minute. You remember the lift?”

“I think you're more nervous than I am. Of course I remember.” She laughed then sobered as the sound grew shriller than she liked. “Or maybe you're not I wish the waiting were done.”

“Stand a minute.” He dived into the tapestry and came out again carrying a chair, heavy, intricately carved, like a throne with arms. Grunting with the effort he placed it carefully in front of the footboard of the bed, centering it with micrometer fastidiousness. Then he fetched a matching footstool. “Now. Sit down and let me fix you.”

Aleytys clambered into the chair, moving with some difficulty as it was sized for the two and half meters of nayid. Sitting with her shorter legs dangling she felt like a child and danced her fingers along the arms, in her nervous irritation unable to sit still.

Burash pushed the footstool closer and smoothed the folds around her feet. Her toes protruded from beneath the hem of the garment. Giggling, she wiggled them, watching the pale gold digits move.

He clucked with disapproval, clicking his tongue against his palate.

Aleytys swallowed. Closing her eyes she breathed with deliberate slowness, striving to calm herself so that she could concentrate on the coming ordeal without distraction from her own body. After a minute she leaned back in the chair, resting her head against the carved wood. Opening her eyes she smiled reassuringly at the worried face hovering beside her. “Shouldn't I have shoes on?”

He frowned. “I didn't think of that. Let me.…” He hurried away and came back with a small ceramic jar.

“What's that?”

“Henna for your palms and the soles of your feet.” He pulled the top off and dipped a finger into the creamy red substance. “Hold out your hands.”

After Burash finished his fussing over her and vanished tactfully into the hidden waiting room where the hiiri still crouched, the minutes crept by on leaden feet for Aleytys. She grew stiff and tired in her stately pose, but didn't dare lean back and relax. Hands clasped loosely in her lap she closed her eyes and murmured, “Harskari. Harskari, talk to me.”

The amber eves opened and once again Aleytys felt with awe and almost terror the aura of immense age and wisdom projected by the presence of the sorceress waking inside her. “Do you mind?” Her whisper was a stammered apology for disturbing Harskari. “I need reassurance like a baby needs patting.” she breathed.

“You've chosen your course, Aleytys.” The words were calm and unhurried. “What more do you want? Approval?” Aleytys sensed a mental shrug. “I gave the only advice I could. Consult Burash. You did and made this plan. Very well. Will it succeed? If I could read the future would I be here? Have you considered the needs and skills of the persons involved? Yes. Can you control chance events? No. If you fail now. can you try again, something else better suited to the situation having learned from experience? Yes. You know all this, it's simply your nerves chittering at the delay. Relax. Sukall comes. She'll be here in a minute.” The amber eves suddenly crinkled into a faint smile. “One thing you did forget, child. The kipu's instruments will detect the absence of the damper. No. Don't fly into a panic. I can handle that for you.”

Aleytys clenched her fingers into fists and expelled a lungful of air in a short explosive burst. “What else have I forgotten?”

The yellow eyes blinked thoughtfully then snapped wide. “Sit up straight. Get yourself in hand. Sukall comes.”

The tapestry rattled its rings and a red-clad guard stepped briskly into the room. When she saw Aleytys sitting with regal calm waiting for her, her stubby antennas jerked in surprise.

“Good.” Aleytys spoke crisply before the guard could say a word. “I have serious complaints to lay before the kipu.”

The guard jerked her eyes from Aleytys' hands where her left thumb was rubbing slowly back and forth over the back of her right hand. She swallowed then stiffened into military rigidity.

Just as the guard began to speak, Aleytys moved her hand in a small imperious gesture. “Key the lift,” she said, her voice cool and soft.

Sukall hesitated a second, then marched to the wall, swept the tapestry aside, and slapped her palm over the inset square of milky glass. As the carved panel slid silently into the stone, Aleytys slipped from the chair, smoothed the folds of her robe, and walked with ostentatious grace past the guard into the tall narrow lift. Turning to face the doorway she compressed her lips into an impatient line and once more caressed the back of her hand with her thumb.

Sukall glanced warily at the moving hands. She stepped inside, tapped the two-square, then faced front as the door slid shut and the floor began to rise beneath their feet. Aleytys disciplined sternly the thrill of fear that clutched briefly at her viscera, remembering.…

“The old one always used it,” Burash said. “When she wanted to talk to the kipu. Until she was room-bound.”

“What's a lift?” Meeting his stare of surprise, Aleytys spread out her hands. “In my homeland, the fanciest machine we had was a creaky old water mill we used to grind flour and run thread spinners. We lived by the skill of our hands, the strength of our animals.”

She pulled her mind back to the present while the floor surged gently upward under her feet. As her brief panic diminished, a sense of exultation grew in her, a feeling of victory anticipated, engendered by the mixture of confusion and fear radiating from the gray-haired veteran staring grimly at the front wall.

The lift shuddered to a stop and the panel slid open. Sukall started to step out.

“Behind me!” Aleytys said curtly. As the guard hesitated, she swept past her into the kipu's private office. Without pausing, walking with studied grace, she crossed the office and stopped in front of the scarlet tapestry shutting off the archway. “Well?”

Sukall hastened to her side and lifted the tapestry out of her way. Without acknowledgment Aleytys stepped through the arch and moved daintily, swaying toward the kipu's table-desk, hands tucked formally into the wide sleeves of the robe, back and head regally erect, face a glacial mask.

The kipu was too busy with Asshrud whining at her and Gapp shrilling abuse to notice Aleytys until she stepped behind the table and stood beside the high-backed chair, facing Asshrud and Gapp. an expression of faint distaste on her face.

“Parakhuzerim?” Curiosity and a rising anger rang in the lilting syllables. The kipu tapped irritably on the table with the fingers of her right hand.

Aleytys slid her own right hand out of the left sleeve and held it up, forefinger straight, the other gently curved, silencing the kipu with a gesture that jolted like an electric shock through the arrogant nayid. Aleytys sensed it and found it briefly hard to keep her pose but anger at her own stupidity steadied her and she flicked that extended finger around at Asshrud. “Shiru madis, your misshapen ugliness continues to offend me. Take yourself off.” She turned her shoulder on the trembling nayid and stared calmly and coldly at Gapp.

“Bu … bu … but.…” Asshrud stammered, her beefy jowls quivering absurdly. “You can't do that.”

The kipu looked thoughtfully at Aleytys then at Asshrud. Aleytys could feel her calculating against a background of faint perturbation. Abruptly she made her decision. “Asshrud, we'll continue this discussion later. Return to queen level.” Ignoring the offended outburst from Asshrud, she continued, “Sabut Ishat, escort The Belit to her rooms.”

Still protesting, Asshrud waddled out of the room just ahead of the bored guard.

Gapp giggled shrilly, but her laughter trailed off as she met Aleytys' icy glare.
“Um alpitta,”
the young nayid snarled, her dissolute face contorting into a sulky frown. “Ardana. Slave,” she jeered. “Crawl back in your little hole.”

Aleytys lifted her head again, cutting off the tirade. “Useless empty-headed hatchling,” she said softly. Both hands were out of the sleeves now, the left thumb caressing the back of the right hand. “Self-indulgent brainless kalamat, you will take your feeble pretensions away from me. You will remember your place. You will cease annoying me with your puerile jabberings.” Her quiet acid-drenched words drove the color from the young nayid's face, dredging up nightmare memories in her of countless skin-peelings the old one had given her in times past.

The kipu radiated indecision briefly and the tinge of fear grew momentarily stronger, but over all of this the hot green glow of corrosive ambition. The kipu despised thoroughly most of the intelligent entities she knew, the only one she had ever really respected was the old one and that because the old queen held her in a strangle-grip of fear. She tapped her thumb against her teeth, then slapped her hand flat on the table. “Enough of this. Gapp, take yourself out of here. Play your tricks with those who don't object to them. Or can't object. And don't come whining to me when your pleasure objects prove to be unmanageable.”

“But.…” Gapp began to recover her own arrogance. “You promised me. You said.…”

“Nothing. You dispute with me?” Her flexible rich voice lowered to a harsh guttural whisper, reducing the lilt to a rhythmic screech. Gapp stared, astounded, her slack mouth gaping open.

“But.…” She opened and closed her mouth like a fish. “But, kipu, aren't you forgetting.…”

The kipu slapped her hand down again, the loud splat breaking into Gapp's speech. “I forget nothing. Ahrib, escort this Belit from here.”

“No!” Gapp shrieked. “No, not for that fakery, that slave, that imitation sarrt.…”

“This ranting offends my ears.” The soft drawled words burned through the noisy shrieks. Both the kipu and Gapp turned to stare at Aleytys.

Again her thumb was caressing her wrist; a small muscle jumped at the corner of her mouth, marring her icy supercilious mask. Inside, she whispered to Harskari to hold hard and she dared gather gloom and deep purple discouragement and hurl it at Gapp like an overripe tomato to splatter over the web of nerve synapse and jerking reflex she called her soul. Gapp shriveled. She wheeled and plunged out of the room in a frantic drive to escape the awful place, followed by an awed and frightened guard.

Aleytys allowed herself a slight smile. She reached out her left hand and tapped gently on the table catching the kipu's attention. “We have talking to do.” She raised her right hand and turned her pointing forefinger in a slow horizontal circle. “There are too many ears out here.”