“She’s not a hussy,” Edvar said patiently. “And there’s no point blaming her for her father’s greediness. He’s dead. She’s all alone, without protection, and I intend to see that you don’t manipulate her.”
“All I want her to do is look at a few orbs. I hardly see how that can be called manipulating.”
They had been walking steadily, a step at a time, toward Deza’s room as they spoke. Deza had been concentrating on what they were saying. She realized with a shock they were nearly at the door. Disagreeing about her honesty and virtue or not, they would both find her with her ear to the door.
She hurried back to the bed just in time to hear the even quiet knock that had to be Edvar’s “Deza,” he whispered in a softer voice than he’d used through the whole interchange with his mother. “Deza, wake up.”
She murmured something sleepy-sounded, pulled a wool robe around her shoulders, and shuffled to the door. “Oh, hello, Edvar,” she said, stifling a yawn, “what time is it?”
“Early,” he said. “My mother is with me. May we come in?”
“Oh, hello,” Deza said blinking sleepily, and will you kindly take notice of the fact that I didn’t embrace your precious son or invite him into my bedroom in the middle of the night with no questions? “Umm, I guess so.” She yawned again. “How early?”
“I’m terribly sorry, my dear, I know it’s early, but would you mind doing those orbs for me?”
“Now?” Deza asked, shielding her eyes against the light Edvar turned up. “It’s so early.” She sank down on the bed. “Couldn’t we do it later?”
Edvar’s mother looked unhappy. “But later you’ll be gone and I don’t know when you’ll get back.”
“Gone?” He must not be taking her out to the desert to murder her or Edvar’s mother would hardly mention it to her this directly. Deza wondered if she could maneuver her into telling more.
She could. The wife opened her mouth, ready with a sulky explanation. Edvar took hold of his mother’s arm. “I really think you should come with us, Deza,” he said quietly.
Something in his tone made Deza think suddenly, “He’s going to get me out of here.” She stopped protesting the hour and the inconvenience, and shoved them out of the room so she could get dressed. As soon as the door was shut on the two of them, she grabbed up her clothes and ran to the slipspace. “Radi,” she whispered, “Radi.” No answer. She hesitated, wondering whether to risk the steep slipspace in darkness, wondering whether to risk Edvar’s finding an empty room if he got impatient and stepped in to hurry her.
—Trust him—her father said.—He knows more than you think.—The mbuzi was staring at her with its large yellow eyes from the foot of the bed. Radi must have put him there when he left. She caught a sudden image, not clear enough to form words, of the empty courtyard, the near-dawn darkness, the closeness of the gate.
She nodded at the animal and hurried into her pettipants, camisole, and a light set of pants and shirt. She started for the slipspace again, pulling on her sandals as she went.
—He’s not there—her father said.
—Then where is he?—
—Gone. Danger,—the mbuzi said, haltingly, as if it were drugged.
—Where has Radi gone? Who ‘s in danger? Radi or me?—
—Danger. Trust Edvar.—
—Where has Radi gone?—
The mbuzi gazed placidly at her. She lifted its limp shoulders and glared directly into its glazed eyes.—Where has Radi gone?—She gave the unresisting animal a shake.—Tell me.—The mbuzi closed its eyes and slumped into sleep. She scooped it up and swung it over her shoulders, then started for the door. She walked halfway across the room, stopped and listened as she had before, and looked back at the slipspace. Edvar knocked on the door. She opened the slipspace and deposited the mbuzi inside, laying it in a quiescent heap just inside the door, above the top of the steep ramp. The slip-space was totally dark. Not even a thread of light showed from Radi’s room below. The mbuzi did not open its eyes. She slid the slipspace shut, grabbed her dark blue cloak, and opened the door of her room.
Edvar’s mother was waiting for her at the foot of the main stairway. Edvar had gone past her to open the heavy wooden front door. It was nearly dawn. A thin gray light softened the gaudy northern colors of the main hall. Edvar held the door open for them. Deza pulled the hood of her cloak up over her head and followed the small woman out into the chilly courtyard.
The geodes were piled in a huge disorderly heap in one of the outer barns. It was, as Deza had hoped, very near the gate of the compound. There was not a guard in sight, although Deza was sure one was there. But most of them were Edvar’s friends, preferring the personable young man to the Tycoon with his military blustering. Surely… she looked at Edvar, who was standing between her and the gate, holding one of the geodes and looking anxious. She felt the sudden clutching of doubt. He won’t be fast enough, she thought. He means well, but he’s no match for his father. Father’s wrong. He’ll be no help at all. Should I make a run for the gate now or chance the geodes?
Edvar’s mother knelt at the edge of the pile, right hand side facing the barn’s door, and plumped one of the rough stones into Deza’s hand. “Oh,” she said, wringing her plump little hands. “I do hope you can do it.”
So do I, thought Deza fervently, as she felt over the gravelly surface of the stone for Harubiki ‘s promised notches. They were there, a little too obvious even, and Deza sighed gratefully. At least Radi hadn’t completely lost his head last night, although perhaps that was a bad sign. She had certainly lost hers. But right now she was grateful that he had remembered to tell Harubiki and that Harubiki had carved the necessary marks, even if she’d used too heavy a hand. Thank goodness Edvar’s mother had been too eager to examine the rock herself.
“This holds a gem,” she said, and handed it to Edvar. Edvar looked questioningly at her. She smiled and nodded, and at her signal, he bent down over the orb and thwacked it squarely on the markings. It resounded dully and then cracked. Uh oh, Deza thought, and stopped herself from raising her hand in protest. Might as well go through with it even though she could already tell the result.
Edvar hit the rock again. This time it split down one side, revealing dark uneven rock veined with black. Edvar hit the larger piece, but Deza already knew there was no gem in the rock. The piece merely splintered into smaller chunks of the veined rock.
The wife’s eyes went wide and hurt with surprise. You aren’t any more surprised than I am, Deza thought, picking up the largest chunk of the geode. She dug her fingers into the deepest groove. The wife was waiting for an explanation, wringing her little hands and looking fretful. “I… the cold makes my insets insensitive to the water in the metallic compounds. Maybe if we waited until it was warmer.”
The grooves were definitely carved and not an accident of nature. The smooth edges had been made by a knife like the one Harubiki carried. She couldn’t have been mistaken, either, marking a geode wrongly because she didn’t know what was inside. This geode had already been split with something more sophisticated than Edvar’s hammer. Deza could feel the fine line, close to the center, where the halves had been cemented together again. And the grooves had fit her hand exactly as Radi had measured for them. No mistake. There was no time to follow the thought through to any logical conclusion. The wife was looking both disappointed and belligerent.
“The sun’s nearly up,” Deza said. The gate won’t be dark and unguarded when the sun comes up, Edvar. Are you listening? “Perhaps we could wait till then. Or I could go back inside and warm the insets. They’re picking up moisture from the air that’s interfering with my abilities.”
“No,” the wife said and looked anxiously behind her. “No,” she said more softly, “it has to be now.”
Deza shrugged and reached for another of the treacherous geodes. She rummaged under the pile this time, as anxious to get one this time that the treacherous Harubiki hadn’t doctored as she had been to find
one of the prepared orbs before. She brought up a small one. “I can’t promise anything for sure,” she said, holding the geode up to her cheek. “I’m quite sure the night air is causing the problem.” What had her father told the wife she did in magically testing the geodes? Read the orbs for the tiny amount of water caught inside when the crystals formed? Deza pressed the geode hard against her insets, not really hoping for anything but a little time to think things out. Her father had always had more faith in her water-witching abilities than she had. She could read a simple water message, of course, but… Harubiki hadn’t sent one.
Deza tried to fit that with the treachery of the orbs and failed. She had assumed that the girl had been jealous of Radi’s attentions to her and taken a petty revenge. She would want to ruin Deza, and Radi would have given her the perfect chance to do so. But the water message was something else entirely. It had nothing to do with Deza at all. Who was Harubiki trying to ruin—Deza or Radi? And what other subtle sabotages had she set up?
“Is that one?” the wife said anxiously.
“Yes… no… I’m not sure,” Deza said. “You really will have to wait for dawn if you want me to do a good job.”
“But by dawn we’ll be well on our way,” said the Tycoon. She whirled around to face him, still holding the rock. The Tycoon was dressed for desert riding in native breeches and a long white tunic. Behind him, a servant led two small ponies. The Tycoon put his arm around his wife’s shoulder. “My dear, you should have let our guest sleep. It is a long and arduous journey to the karst.”
“The karst?” Deza echoed.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to go as you are. The ponies are ready, and we don’t want to be caught by the midday sun. You should have dressed more suitably for the desert.”
“The wife has asked a favor from me. After all her kindnesses to me I can hardly leave that favor undone.”
“Silly games. Our work is more important.”
“Perhaps you would explain it to me then. And to your family, so we can judge its urgency for ourselves.” Do something, Edvar, anything. This conversation is not getting me anywhere.
The Tycoon patted his wife’s arm. “All right, then. One more stone, my dear, and then we must be on our way.”
And if it isn’t one with crystals, Deza thought, perhaps he’ll give up his dreams of my witching the karst into a waterland for him, or whatever it is he wants. Deza carried the geode she was holding to Edvar.
“This is one, lined with golden citrine crystals of rare size,” she said confidently. Under her breath, she said to Edvar, “Get Radi. I cannot go out on the karst.” He knelt poised over the rock, looking up at her questioningly. “I cannot witch water. When your father finds that out, he won’t bring me back. Get Radi.” Stupid, stupid, why had her father ever said to trust him?
“Finish it later,” the Tycoon said. “Deza, come.”
“In matters of water the priest should consult,” Deza said desperately. “A witch is not authorized to douse without a blessing from a priest.”
He handed her the reins of the smaller pony. “The priest, unfortunately, is no longer with us. He has left without our blessings. Why should we ask his?”
“Left?” Radi gone.
“With that henchwoman of his.”
“Harubiki,” Deza said.
Edvar brought the blunt-nosed hammer down with a crash. The geode split evenly into two hollow halves. The yellow citrine crystals caught the first gold light of dawn and reflected onto Edvar’s worried face.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The cursed mbuzi had dashed between his legs the moment he opened the slipspace, nearly upsetting Radi and sending him headlong into the dark stairwell. He hadn’t known the beasts could move that quickly unless they were in blind panic, and he’d never seen one leap successfully as this one did from the polished wooden floor to the place in Deza’s bed that Radi had just vacated. From its still-warm nest, the mbuzi stared at him until he closed the slipspace.
Downstairs, Radi made the mouse signal on the entrance to his own bedroom, and waited for Chappa to answer that all was clear. He’d left the young marine sleeping in his place so that if any of the servants ducked into the priest’s chamber for confessions or to buy dispensation they’d find him asleep and leave quietly to return at a more convenient time. No one wanted to deal with a sleep-grumpy priest, for penance and prices were steep enough from cheerful ones.
Radi signaled again, and when there was still no response, he put his ear to the panel, listening for voices for a long time. He heard nothing, so he opened the slipspace, gingerly at first. The room was empty but for Chappa’s form under the bedcovers, apparently sound asleep. No doubt the bed was more comfortable than the desert rocks they’d rested on the night before, and Chappa more tired than he’d been for a long time.
“Well, I’m pleased to see you do your assignments so well, but this one’s over, my friend. We’ll miss morning prayers if we don’t hurry, and everyone will think I’m a sloppy priest,” Radi said, entering the room and pulling a fresh robe from the closet, which the Tycoon thoughtfully kept filled with holy garb. He’d selected a dun robe with City-scarlet trim and pulled it on, then noticed that Chappa had not yet stirred. Somewhat vexed, he walked to the bed. Had Chappa brought a servant girl into the priest’s quarters and stayed up half the night involved in a little tryst of his own? Damn foolish risk if he had; his companion had only to mention that the novice was alone and everyone would be wondering where the priest had been. But the moment Radi shook Chappa, he knew the young marine had not dallied with a mere servant girl; he was dead, a knife buried in his back up to the hilt. The protruding grip was native-carved, of a size the Tycoon might carry under his flowing robes. Radi shook his head. He knew it wasn’t likely that the Tycoon did his own dirty work; he’d bought too many henchmen on Mahali to bother soiling his own hands. But Radi didn’t doubt for an instant that the man was responsible. No wonder he’d been so amiable at dinner last night; he had no intention of ever discussing tithing at all, let alone paying a fair price for some additional water. Well, Radi thought angrily, the Tycoon would discover that a priest of the City in the Red Cave could not be murdered any more easily than one could be thrown out of the compound for long. Chappa’s death would be avenged.
Radi’s scalp prickled as he suddenly became aware that he was not alone in the room. He whirled and was relieved to see Harubiki standing at the slipspace, staring at him wide-eyed.
“And where were you when the desert rats slipped in?” he said. Her room was next door, she slept lighter than a chuma cat perched on a limb.
“I… I was hung up… in the barn. There were more guards than I expected. I couldn’t get out until minutes ago.”
“Did you get the geodes marked?” he said, too sharply. His mind was filled with misgivings over the Tycoon’s unexpected ruthlessness, and from learning that stealthy Harubiki had had difficulties moving in and out of a common barn. The thought of Deza having difficulties with the geodes added to his consternation.
“Oh, yes. The rocks are well marked. The little witch won’t have any trouble finding them.”
Radi grunted and turned back to the slain marine, fighting the remorse that would be so easy to give in to. But there were other things to think of, like a Tycoon who not only refused to tithe but who murdered as well, and what Radi must do next to forestall the man for one more day, until the marines arrived from Sindra. Finally he reached over to pull the strong linen sheet around the body. “Help me wrap him up so we can carry him,” he said to Harubiki.
“Carry him where?” she said. “There are guards all over the place. We’d be better off to sound the alarm and act innocent, as of course we truly are.”
Radi stopped and frowned, watching Harubiki a moment. He was not accustomed to having his orders questioned, not even by Sheria’s handmaiden. And yet, somehow Harubiki’s status had become elevated, little by little, apparently without his noticing until now, when sh
e questioned instead of jumping to obey as she once would have done. Since Sheria began her reign, there had been many small changes. He shook his head, not wanting to deal with all of them at once, just wanting to do what needed to be done. “It’s obvious the Tycoon’s assassin mistook Chappa for me. If he’ll violate the water hospitality to be rid of me, do you think he’d hesitate to accuse me of murder, as well? There’s bound to be a dozen people prepared to swear that’s my knife in Chappa’s back, and I can’t very well ask Deza to tell where I really was. That would be just as damaging; just isn’t priestlike. We’ll use the slipspace to evade the guards, take him well away from the compound to bury him.”
“You won’t just be late for morning prayers, you’ll miss them,” Harubiki said, “and that isn’t very priestlike either.” Despite her protest, she crossed the room and started to help with the body, forestalling the sharp reprimand just behind Radi’s teeth.
“We’ll be back by evening prayers,” Radi said instead, “and he won’t be expecting me then either. That’s no doubt the hour he’d insist on sending someone to check on me.”
“What if he comes sooner?” Harubiki said, pulling out the knife and tossing it into the sheet to be carried away with the body. “He’d surely expect me, or Chappa, to set up a wail. When that doesn’t happen, he may become suspicious.”
“And do what about it? Call Botvidi to tell him that he had the priest murdered last night, so would he come to discover the body, please?”