Shadow Gate (76 page)

She turned to face Jagi.

“I can carry that in for you.”

“My thanks.” She handed him the tray, which he handled smoothly, the weight nothing to him.

“We're riding formation today,” he said as she held aside the entry curtain to allow him into the formal room where Mai, looking pale, sat on pillows while Sheyshi offered her tea. “I told Jerad he could help me saddle up and get my armor on. If you'll allow it.”

“That's very kind of you. Of course he can go. You're like a brother to him, truly.”

He flicked a considering glance at her as he set the tray on the table, barely stirring the water. Then he retreated. Face flushed, Avisha waited by the table, wondering if anyone in the room would remark on the comment, on Jagi's kindness, on anything, indeed, but Mai sipped listlessly. She hadn't even noticed Avisha come in. Priya swept out from the sleeping chamber.

“Avisha has brought wash water, Mistress,” Priya said, a bit tartly.

Mai glanced up. “Thank you, Vish.”

“Are you well, Mai?” Avisha asked.

“Bring a wet cloth!” snapped Sheyshi. “Why be so slow?”

“No use me sitting here feeling sorry for myself.” Mai got up awkwardly. The fine silk robes she had brought with her from the south no longer fit her, and she had taken to wearing a taloos, which could be wrapped to accommodate any stage of pregnancy. Dark circles hollowed her fine eyes, and after she had finished wiping her face and hands, she stood with the wet cloth dangling unregarded from a hand and stared out the opened curtain toward the sea.

A faint jangle sounded. Puzzled, Mai straightened. Footsteps sounded on the walkway, and a moment later—quite amazingly—an elderly man dressed in the blue traveling cloak and gaudy colors of an envoy of Ilu trotted up into the chamber.

“Here you are, verea,” he said in an amiable voice, as if
he were accustomed to entering her chambers every morning, like a favorite uncle. “I heard you were feeling poorly. Not that I have much in the way of healing knowledge or any cunning herbcraft—you'd need a mendicant for that—but I wanted to come tell you that I've consulted with various temples and your architect and we've come up with a proper siting for seven altars. Simple structures could be erected within the week. Once the altars are in place, there's no further impediment if you wish to see marriages go forward.”

Chief Tuvi stamped in, sword drawn. “Where did you come from?”

The envoy's smile was sweet and harmless. “I walked in, ver. Didn't you give me permission yourself?”

This statement caused the chief to look confused.

Mai stepped forward. “It's all right, Chief, let him stay. I asked him to come see me when he had news about establishing local temples.”

The chief glanced at Avisha, and she flushed. He was a good-looking man in his own way, if very old, probably as old as her father. But he was formidable and important, and everyone listened to him.

“Will you share tea, Your Holiness?” Mai asked.

“With thanks at your gracious offer.” The man settled easily on a pillow. He indicated the disordered coverlet. “Not sleeping well? A common complaint later in pregnancy, so I am told. Hard to get comfortable, I should think.”

She sighed as she looked at him, as if ready to speak.

“Missing your husband?”

She blushed and looked away. “He is very busy.”

“Yes, indeed.” The envoy frowned. “Very busy.”

“Is something wrong, Your Holiness?”

“Neh, nothing. It's true enough, with the troubles in Haldia, that Olo'osson must consider how to protect itself.”

“I don't like the Barrens,” said Mai. “But I must not complain.”

“Why not?” The envoy glanced at Avisha, and she looked away, wondering why his benign gaze seemed so discomfiting.

“Anji would be disappointed in me.”

“Would he?”

Really!
thought Avisha.
That holy man ought to know better than to grind his finger into an open sore!

“There is plenty for me to do,” said Mai. “Anyway, if I mope, then the baby will have a sullen personality.”

“Is that so?”

“That's what Grandmother always said to her sons' wives. Although how it would explain Uncle Girish's cruel ways, or Uncle Shai's silence—I don't suppose Grandmother thought of that when she was criticizing the others, did she?” Cheered by this thought, Mai accepted the teapot from Priya and with dainty gestures poured four cups.

“Uncle Girish, eh?”

“Let's not talk about him. He's dead now, anyway.” She offered him the first cup, which he took. She then offered Chief Tuvi a cup, and she and Priya picked up the third and fourth. With a nod from Mai, they all drank. Avisha smelled the sharp tang, and her mouth watered.

“More?” Mai asked.

“With thanks.” The envoy returned the cup to her hand. She smiled at him as she received it. “You mentioned another uncle, Uncle Shai, eh?”

He spoke pleasantly, but Chief Tuvi touched the hilt of his sword, and Avisha took a step toward Mai as if a change in the air impelled her motion.

“Aiyi!” Mai passed a hand over her eyes and seemed on the verge of tears. “Probably dead, too. It's my fault.”

Priya tucked a hand under Mai's elbow and firmly settled her on a pillow.

“How so?” asked the envoy as gently as a feather brushes.

Tears began to fall, some captured in the cup held in her hands. “There came a demon. A ghost.” She shook
her head. “A ghost turned into a demon, maybe. She rode into our compound in Olossi and killed two of the soldiers. Then I didn't mean to tell her but I did, so now she's gone after Shai.”

“North,” muttered the envoy.

“North,” she echoed, or maybe he had echoed her.

Avisha shivered.

“And then I heard some days ago—that very day I met you at the gate, Your Holiness—that Shai had been attacked by bandits.”

“Where did that happen?”

“Near the town of Horn. That's where the ring belonging to my Uncle Hari was found.” Her shoulders slumped. The cup rolled out of limp hands, and Sheyshi deftly caught it as Mai covered her eyes. “What if Shai is dead?”

The envoy had the kind of cheerful modest demeanor that makes the day more pleasant when he walks into your shop and asks to purchase braid and rope. Yet beneath all lay a disquieting expression, hard to fathom.

He looked at Avisha, eyebrow cocked as if in a question.

Unbidden, words rose. “I miss my father,” she whispered, but no one was listening. No one but him. His gentle smile lingered as he looked toward the door.

“Chief!”

Tuvi hurried outside. Mai looked up. Feet clattered on the walkway as male voices rose in greeting. The captain strode in, followed by guards and the handsome reeve, who halted to stare at the envoy of Ilu.

“Anji!”

The captain crossed to Mai, took both her wrists in his hands, and frowned as he examined her wan face. “Tuvi sent word you were not feeling well.”

For a moment he matched gaze to gaze with the envoy, and his brow furrowed as if the captain was trying to place the man. Then he nodded at Tuvi.

“Everyone out,” said the chief.

The chamber cleared with a bit of confusion, people getting in the way, Sheyshi running out and then running back in for the tea things and impeding the exit of others as she fussed. Avisha retreated to the walkway, wondered if she should collect the basin and pitcher, and then saw the reeve—marshal of Argent Hall, a very important man!—beckon to her.

Biting her lower lip, she went to him.

“I can't recall your name. I'm Marshal Joss. We met in the Soha Hills.”

“It's Avisha, ver. I remember you.”

His smile warmed. Maybe he was old enough to be her father, not that he was anything like. Aui! He was a handsome man even as old as all that. “There was an envoy of Ilu in there. Did you see where he went?”

“No, ver, but he can't have gotten far.”

“What do you know of him?”

“He came into the settlement about a week ago, at least twelve days. The mistress asked him to site altars for the gods, so marriages can go forward in the proper way.”

Chief Tuvi ambled over, his gaze sharp and his smile forced. “Is there a problem, Marshal?”

The marshal raised a hand as if to beckon Tuvi in. An unspoken message passed between the men, but she wasn't sure what it was. “See if you can find that envoy, Chief.”

“He's harmless. The mistress likes him, and she is a good judge of character.”

“If I'm not mistaken, the last time I saw that man was in Dast Korumbos. He was dead.”

Eihi! Maybe the marshal wasn't quite right in the head. Age took folk like that.

“You recognized him, too, eh?” said Tuvi, nodding. “He walked with us over the Kandaran Pass, but I lost track of him before we reached Dast Korumbos. You say he was killed in the bandit attack?”

“He was dying.”

“But you didn't see him dead?”

The marshal ran a hand over his tightly cropped hair. “I did not, it's true. It's hard to imagine he could have survived those injuries, though.”

Chief Tuvi shook his head. “He's talked a few times with the mistress, ver, and I can tell you, he's no ghost. Ghosts don't drink tea, for one thing.”

“Hard to imagine how they could.” The charming smile flashed as the marshal's gaze shifted back to Avisha. “If the altars are built, then I suppose marriages will go forward. You must have a line waiting for you, Avisha. Yet whose rice will you eat?”

She wrapped a hand in the fabric of her taloos, angry at him for embarrassing her in front of Chief Tuvi, who might not like to see her in the company of such a good-looking man. But the marshal was not truly interested in her, he was just fashioned that way, flirting with women the same way he breathed.

“I must go, ver. I've work to do.”

And Zianna to check in on. Eiya! She'd neglected the children, so caught up was she in running after the mistress. She hurried off. Jerad was nowhere to be found, and Zi was in the kitchen yard with little ones her own age, picking pebbles out of a bin of rice, careful-handed despite their youth.

“Zi, I'm off to the garden. You want to come?”

Zi barely glanced at her. “No.”

Zi had been angry at Avisha since the day Nallo had left, as if that was Avisha's fault. Anyway, Zianna didn't really understand that their father was dead, only that he wasn't around to dote on her and someone had to be blamed for a world cast into disorder.

With a sigh, Avisha caught the attention of one of the kitchen workers. “I'm going down to my garden.”

“I'm hoping those melons you planted give fruit,” said the woman with a smile, tucking a strand of loose hair back into her kerchief with a sweaty hand.

Avisha trudged down through the growing settlement. Men expanded a second reservoir at the base of the irrigation channel. The main reservoir had captured a fair bit of water in the recent rains, which was routed into cisterns. Mai had extended credit for seeds, and Avisha had received a plot in one of the irrigated parcels. The soil was a fine-grained pale silt nothing like the black river-fed soils of her home. She hadn't much to enrich it with beyond peelings and scraps she composted with night soil, but while celestial star simply would not grow, she had coaxed along decent plantings of ginger, onions, pepper-heart, and various chilis. She watered and weeded the garden, then walked past the parade ground. Down by the shelter where folk could rest under shade after drilling, Jerad cracked sticks with another lad. Although she halted and waved, he did not notice her.

She wiped away a tear with a dirty finger and walked to the dry fields, where she had set up pot irrigation for her melons. She had also planted sapling figs, dates, and three ranks of precious woolly-plum seedlings; all but two had sprouted. Out here, all alone, she felt truly isolated. She did so badly miss her father.

Horsemen pounded into view in tight formation. She watched admiringly as the Qin soldiers pulled up, wheeled, turned again, and galloped away with dust spitting in their wake. Another group of ten raced up to attempt the same maneuver, the local riders awkward on their mounts while their black-clad Qin supervisor slashed his whip at those who fell out of line. A second unit of trainees attempted the drill, half of them hopelessly lagging on the first turn as the Qin soldier yelled at them and chased them back to the starting point. A third group came, holding together better at the first turn, but several fell off the line at the second turn and then whipped their horses to catch up, only to get themselves in a tangle, pulling up short before the horses crashed into each other.

Jagi was in charge of this group. He rode through the
ranks laughing, and pointed with his whip here, and then there, indicating where they had gone wrong. He had the riders work back through the drill in pairs before a shout from the starting point called his group back. They rode off in paired rows; some of the local men had their hair up in topknots, like the Qin, while others had bound their long hair in horsetails that swagged down their backs. She admired their squared shoulders. Jagi, at the back, had so easy a seat on his horse that he and it might as well have been one creature.

A formation consisting only of Qin riders swept past. Jagi peeled off from his own group and raced with his comrades through an about-face back toward the starting line with a precision and speed that made her heart pound. No wonder they had defeated a much larger army!

“Vish!” Jerad trotted up, his face smeared and his clothes dirty. He wore a big grin of pure happiness as he watched the troop ride off. “Did you see that, eh? I'm going to be a soldier in the captain's army. Jagi is teaching me to ride. I'm going to become a black wolf, just like them.”

“Why should you get to keep that girl for yourself, not sharing her?” The soldier confronting the sergeant squinted, holding an axe in one hand. “Who set you over us as if you was lord?”