Nightrunners 03 - Traitor's Moon (38 page)

"Ah, you've come at the most interesting part," his friend murmured, stifling a yawn.

"How much longer will you be?"

"Not long. Everyone's out of sorts today; I think most of them are ready for a jug of rassos. I know I am."

Torsin turned and shot them a pointed look. Seregil covered a smirk with his hand and sank a bit lower in his chair. With his other, he signed for Alec to stay.

The Khatme finished at last, and Klia stood to reply. Alec couldn't see her face, but from the set of her shoulders he guessed she'd had enough, too.

"Honored Khatme, you speak well and clearly of Aurenen's concerns, " she began. "You speak of raiders, and those who have betrayed the laws of hospitality, yet in all these tales, I hear no mention of Skala. I don't doubt that you have good reason to fear some foreigners, but why should you fear us? Skala has never attacked Aurenen. Instead, we have traded in good faith, traveled your land in good faith, and respected the Edict of Separation in good faith, although we believe it is unjust. Many here do not hesitate to remind me of the murder of Corruth; is that because it is the only transgression you can throw up at us?"

"You demand access to our northern coast, our port, our iron mines," a Haman declared. "If we let you bring miners and smiths to make settlements, how then can we expect them to leave when your need is gone?"

"Why do you think they will not?" Klia countered. "I have seen Gedre. I have ridden through the cold, barren mountains where the mines are. With all due respect, perhaps you ought to visit my land. Perhaps then you would understand that we have no desire for yours, only the iron to fight our war and save our own."

This response gained her a ripple of applause and a few poorly muffled laughs among her supporters. But Klia remained stern.

"I have listened to Ilbis i Tarien of Khatme recite the history of your people. Nowhere in that history did I hear of Skala acting as aggressor toward your land, or any other. Like you, we understand what it is to have
enough.
Through husbandry and trade and the blessings of the Four, we have never needed to take what was not freely offered. The same can be said of the Mycenians, who even now sway, driven to their knees by the onslaught of Plenimar. We fight to repel the aggressor, not to conquer. The previous Overlord of Plenimar was content within his own borders for many years. It is his son who has renewed the old conflict. Must I, youngest daughter

of a Tirfaie queen, remind the Aurenfaie of their heroic role in the first Great War when we fought as one?

"My throat grows sore from giving the same assurances day after day. If you will not allow us to mine, then sell us your iron and let our ships come to Gedre to get it."

"And so it goes," Seregil muttered. "The war could be lost before we can get beyond whether or not Klia is personally responsible for Corruth's murder."

"Are there any plans for tonight?" Alec asked, glancing nervously in Torsin's direction.

"We're to dine in Khaladi tupa. I'm actually looking forward to this one. Their dancers are exceptional."

Alec settled back with an inward sigh. The shadows crept a few more inches across the floor as Rhaish i Arlisandin and Galmyn i Nemius of Lhapnos launched into a verbal battle over some river that divided their lands. The argument ended when the Akhendi stalked from the chamber in a rage. The outburst signaled the end of the day's debate.

"What did that have to do with Skala?" Alec complained as the assembly broke up.

"Balance of trade, as usual," Torsin told him. "At the moment Akhendi must depend on Lhapnos's goodwill to float goods down to port. If and when Gedre opens, then Akhendi will gain the advantage. That is only one of several reasons why Lhapnos opposes Klia's request."

"Maddening!" Klia muttered under her breath. "Whatever they decide in the end, it will have more to do with their troubles than ours. If we were dealing with a single ruler, things would be different."

Their host of the evening swept down on her, and Klia allowed herself to be led aside for a private conversation.

Seregil gave Alec a questioning look. "You've been waiting to tell me something, I think?"

"Not here."

The walk back to their lodgings seemed a long one. When they were finally alone in their room, Alec closed the door and leaned back against it.

"I met a rhui'auros today."

Seregil's expression did not change, but Alec detected a sudden tightness at the corners of his friend's mouth.

"He asked that we come to the Nha'mahat tonight. Both of us."

Still Seregil said nothing.

"Kheeta hinted that you have—bad feelings about them?"

"Bad feelings?" Seregil raised an eyebrow as if considering Alec's choice of words. "Yes, you could say that."

"But why? The one I met seemed kind enough, if a little eccentric."

Seregil folded his arms. Was it Alec's imagination, or was he trembling slightly?

"During my trial—" Seregil began, speaking so softly that Alec had to strain to hear. "A rhui'auros came, saying I was to be brought here, to Sarikali. No one knew what to think. I'd already confessed everything___"

He faltered, and the hint of a dark memory traveled to Alec across the talimenios bond; his vision darkened as a burning stab of panic constricted his chest.

"They tortured you?" Memories of his own experiences added to the leaden weight settling in the pit of his stomach.

"Not in the way you mean." Going to a clothes chest, Seregil threw back the lid and rummaged in its depths. "It was a long time ago. It doesn't matter."

But Alec could still feel the sour tang of panic clinging to his companion. Going to him, he laid a hand on Seregil's shoulder. The man sagged a little under the light touch.

"I just don't understand what they want with me now."

"If you'd rather not go, I could make some excuse."

Seregil managed a lopsided grimace. "I don't think that would be wise. No, we'll go. Together. It's time you did, tali."

Alec was silent a moment. "Do you think they can tell me about my mother?" The words came hard. "I—I need to know who I am."

"Take what the Lightbearer sends, Alec."

"What do you mean?"

The strange, guarded look came into Seregil's eyes again. "You'll see."

22

Dreams and visions

The minor clans had no official voice in the Iia'sidra, but they were not without influence. The Khaladi were among the most respected and fiercely independent; Klia considered them an important potential ally.

At Sarikali they occupied a small section in the eastern part of the city. The khirnari, Mallia a Tama, met them at the head of what appeared to be her entire clan and led them on foot to the open land beyond the city's edge. Her blue-and-yellow sen'gai was made of twisted bands of silk intertwined with red cord, and she wore a voluminous silk coat over her tight-fitting tunic. "

The Khaladi were taller and more muscular than most of the 'faie Alec had met, and many had bands of intricate tattoos encircling their wrists and ankles. They smiled readily and treated their guests with a mix of respect and warm familiarity that quickly put him at ease.

On a flat expanse of ground just beyond the city's edge, a circular area a few hundred yards in diameter had been covered with huge, multicolored carpets and ringed with bonfires. Instead of the usual dining couches, low tables and piles of bolsters were arranged around the perimeter. Mallia a Tama and her family served Klia's party themselves, washing their guests' hands over basins to

symbolize the customary bath and offering them wine and dried fruits dipped in honey. Musicians arrived carrying pipes and long-necked stringed instruments unlike any Alec had seen. Instead of plucking or strumming the latter, the players sawed at the strings with a short bow, producing a sound at once mournful and sweet.

As the sun sank and the feast progressed, it was not difficult for Alec to imagine himself transported to their mountain fai'thast. Under different circumstances, he would have been content to spend the entire night in such company.

Instead, he kept a watchful eye on Seregil, who often fell silent and glanced frequently at the progress of the moon.

Do you dread the night's destination so much?
Alec wondered with a twinge of guilt at his own anticipation.

As the banquet neared its end, thirty or more Khaladi rose and shed their tunics, stripping down to short, tight-fitting leather breeches. Their lightly oiled skin shone like satin in the firelight.

"Now we'll see something!" Seregil exclaimed under his breath, looking happy for the first time that night.

"We are great dancers, the best in all Aurenen," the khirnari was telling Klia. "For in the dance we celebrate the circles of unity that make our world—the unity between our people and Aura, the unity of sky and earth, the unity that binds us one to another. You might feel the magic of it, but do not be alarmed. It is only the sharing of khi that unites the dancers with those who watch them."

The musicians struck up a dark, skirling melody as the performers took their places. Working in pairs, they slowly lifted and balanced each other with sinuous grace. Without the least hint of strain or tremor, their bodies twined into configurations at once disciplined and erotic, arching, folding, curving as they rose and fell.

Rapt, Alec felt the flow of khi the khirnari had spoken of; differing energies of each successive dance enfolded him, drawing him in although he never stirred from where he sat.

Some dances featured a single gender or male and female couples, but most involved all the varying groups at once. One of the most moving was a performance by pairs of children.

Klia sat motionless, one hand pressed unconsciously to her lips. Pure wonder showed on Thero's thin features, softening them to something approaching beauty. Beyond them, Alec could see Beka among the honor guard, the hint of tears glistening in her eyes. Nyal stood beside her, not quite touching as he watched her watch the dance.

One pair of men held Alec's attention for dance after dance. It

was not simply their skill that moved him but the way they seemed to hold each other with their gaze, trusting, anticipating, working in perfect unison. His throat tightened as he watched them during one particularly sensual dance; he knew without being told that they were talimenios and that they had lived this dance, this mingling of souls, together most of their lives.

He felt Seregil's hand cover his own. Without the least embarrassment, Alec turned his hand, weaving their fingers together and letting the dance speak for him.

As the moon rose higher, however, Alec found himself increasingly distracted by the thought of the rhui'auros's summons.

Ever since Thero had first mentioned the rhui'auros and their abilities back in Ardinlee, he'd wondered what it would be like to have that missing piece added to the small mosaic of his life. Wandering with his father, knowing no kin, claiming no town as their own, he'd never questioned his father's silence. Only when he'd gone to Watermead and been embraced by Micum Cavish's family had he realized what he'd lacked. Even his formal name reflected that: plain Alec i Amasa of Kerry. Where there should be additional names to link him with his own history, there were only blanks. By the time he'd been old enough to ask such questions his father was dead, all the answers reduced to ash plowed into a stranger's field.

Perhaps tonight he would learn his own truth.

He and Seregil saw Klia home, then turned their horses for the Nha'mahat.

The Haunted City was deserted tonight, and Alec found himself starting at shadows, certain he saw movement in the empty windows or heard the whisper of voices in the sighing of the breeze.

"What do you think will happen?" he asked at last, unable to bear the silence any longer.

"I wish I could tell you, tali," Seregil replied. "My experience wasn't the ordinary sort. I believe it's like the Temple of Illior; people come for visions, dreams—the rhui'auros are said to be strange guides."

I remember that house, that street,
Seregil thought, amazed at the power of memory.

He'd avoided this section of the city since their arrival, but he'd come here often as a
child. In
those days the Nha'mahat had been an

enticingly mysterious place only adults were allowed to enter, and the rhui'auros just eccentric folk who might offer sweets, stories, or a colorful spell or two if you loitered long enough between the arches of the arcade. That perception had been shattered along with his childhood when he'd finally entered the tower.

The fragmented memories of what followed had haunted the farthest reaches of his dreams ever since, like hungry wolves hovering just outside the safe circle of a campfire's glow.

The black cavern.

The stifling heat inside the tiny dhima.

The probing magicks stripping him, turning him inside out, flaying him with every doubt, vanity, and banality of his adolescent self as the rhui'auros sought the truth behind the killing of the unfortunate Haman.

Alec rode beside him cloaked in that special silence of his, happy, full of anticipation. Some part of Seregil longed to warn him, tell him—