Of course youre my friend, I whispered. His hand tightened for a moment, then he went to the door to leave.
Before he could, I heard a startled murmur from him; the voice that responded was familiar, too. I turned, and as Tvril stepped out Viraine stepped in.
My apologies, he said. May I come in? He did not close the door, I noted, in case I said no.
For a moment I stared at him, amazed at his audacity. I had no doubt that he had magically enabled Sciminas torture of Sieh, just as he had Nahadoths. That was his true role here, I understood nowto facilitate all the evil that our family dreamt up, especially where it concerned the gods. He was the Enefadehs keeper and driver, wielder of the Arameri whip.
But an overseer is not solely to blame for a slaves misery. Sighing, I said nothing. Apparently deciding this constituted acceptance, Viraine let the door close and came over. Unlike Tvril, there was nothing resembling apology in his expression, just the usual guarded Arameri coolness.
It was unwise of you to interfere in Menchey, he said.
So Ive been reminded.
If you had trusted me
My mouth fell open in pure incredulity.
If you had trusted me, Viraine said again, with a hint of stubbornness, I would have helped you.
I almost laughed. For what price?
Viraine fell silent for a moment, then moved to stand beside me, almost exactly where Tvril had been. He felt very different, though. Warmer, most noticeably. I could feel his body heat from where I stood, a foot away.
Have you chosen an escort for the ball?
Escort? The question threw me entirely. No. Ive barely thought about the ball; I may not even attend.
You must. Dekarta will compel you magically if you dont come on your own.
Of course. Viraine would be the one to impose the compulsion, no doubt. I shook my head, sighing. Fine, then. If Grandfather is set on humiliating me, theres nothing I can do but endure it. But I see no reason to inflict the same on an escort.
He nodded slowly. That should have been my warning. I had never seen Viraine be anything but brisk in his mannerisms, even when relaxed.
You might enjoy the night, at least a little, he said, if I were your escort.
I was silent for so long that he turned to face my stare and laughed. Are you so unused to being courted?
By people who arent interested in me? Yes.
How do you know Im not?
Why would you be?
Do I need a reason?
I folded my arms. Yes.
Viraine raised his eyebrows. I must apologize again, then. I hadnt realized Id made such a poor impression on you over the past few weeks.
Viraine I rubbed my eyes. I was tirednot physically but emotionally, which was worse. Youve been very helpful, true, but I cant call you anything like kind. Ive even doubted your sanity at times. Not that this makes you any different from other Arameri.
Guilty as judged. He laughed again. That felt wrong, too. He was trying too hard. He seemed to realize it, because abruptly he sobered.
Your mother, he said, was my first lover.
My hand twitched toward my knife. It was on the side farthest from him. He did not see.
After a moment passed with no apparent reaction from me, Viraine seemed to relax somewhat. He lowered his eyes, gazing at the lights of the city far below. I was born here, like most Arameri, but the highbloods sent me off to the Litariathe scrivening collegeat the age of four, when my gift for languages was noticed. I was just twenty when I returned, the youngest master ever approved by the program. Brilliant, if I may say, but still very young. A child, really.
I was not yet twenty myself, but of course barbarians grow up faster than civilized folk. I said nothing.
My father had died in the interim, he continued. My mother He shrugged. Disappeared some night. That sort of thing happens here. It was just as well. I was granted fullblood status when I returned, and she was a lowblood. If she were still alive, I would no longer be her son. He glanced at me, after a pause. That will sound heartless to you.
I shook my head, slowly. Ive been in Sky long enough.
He made a soft sound, somewhere between amusement and cynicism. I had a harder time getting used to this place than you, he said. Your mother helped me. She was like you in some ways. Gentle on the surface, something entirely different underneath.
I glanced at him, surprised by this description.
I was smitten, of course. Her beauty, her wit, all that power He shrugged. But I would have been content to admire her from afar. I wasnt that young. No one was more surprised than I when she offered me more.
My mother wouldnt do that.
Viraine just looked at me for a moment, during which I glared back at him.
It was a brief affair, he said. Just a few weeks. Then she met your father and lost interest in me. He smiled thinly. I cant say I was happy about that.
I told you I began with some heat.
You didnt know her, he said softly. It was that softness that silenced me. No child knows her parents, not truly.
You didnt know her, either. I refused to think about how childish that sounded.
For a moment there was such sorrow in Viraines face, such lingering pain, that I knew he was telling the truth. He had loved her. He had been her lover. She had gone off to marry my father, leaving Viraine with only memories and longing. And now fresh grief burned in my soul, because he was rightI hadnt known her. Not if she could do something like this.
Viraine looked away. Well. You wanted to know my reason for offering to escort you. You arent the only one who mourns Kinneth. He took a deep breath. If you change your mind, let me know. He inclined his head, then headed for the door.
Wait, I said, and he stopped. I told you before: my mother did nothing without reason. So why did she take up with you?
How should I know?
What do you think?
He considered a moment, then shook his head. He was smiling again, hopelessly. I think I dont want to know. And neither do you.
He left. I stared at the closed door for a long time.
Then I went looking for answers.
* * *
I went first to my mothers room, where I took the chest of letters from behind the beds headboard. When I turned with it in my hands, I found my unknown maternal grandmother gazing directly at me from within her portrait. Sorry, I muttered, and left again.
It was not difficult to find an appropriate corridor. I simply wandered until a sense of nearby, familiar power tickled my awareness. I followed that sense until, before an otherwise nondescript wall, I knew I had found a good spot.
The gods langauge was not meant to be spoken by mortals, but I had a goddesss soul. That had to be good for something.
Atadie, I whispered, and the wall opened up.
I went through two dead spaces before finding Siehs orrery. As the wall closed behind me, I looked around and noticed that the place looked starkly bare compared to the last time Id seen it. Several dozen or so of the colored spheres lay scattered on the floor, unmoving, a few showing cracks or missing chunks. Only a handful floated in their usual places. The yellow ball was nowhere to be seen.
Beyond the spheres, Sieh lay on a gently curved hump of palace-stuff, with Zhakkarn crouched beside him. Sieh was younger than I had seen him in the arena, but still too old: long-legged and lanky, he must have been somewhere in late adolescence. Zhakkarn, to my surprise, had removed her headkerchief; her hair lay in close-curled, flattened ringlets about her head. Rather like mine, except that it was blue-white in color.
They were both staring at me. I crouched beside them, setting down the chest. Are you all right? I asked Sieh.
Sieh struggled to sit up, but I could see in his movements how weak he was. I moved to help, but Zhakkarn had him, bracing his back with one big hand. Amazing, Yeine, Sieh said. You opened the walls by yourself? Im impressed.
Can I help you? I asked. Somehow?
P
lay with me.
Play But I trailed off as Zhakkarn caught my eye with a stern look. I thought a moment, then stretched out my hands, palms up. Put your hands over mine.
He did so. His hands were larger than mine, and they shook like an old mans. So much wrongness. But he grinned. Think youre fast enough?
I slapped at his hands, and scored. He moved so slowly that I couldve recited a poem in the process. Apparently I am.
Beginners luck. Lets see you do it again. I slapped at his hands again. He moved faster this time; I almost missed. Ha! All right, third times the charm. I slapped again, and this time did miss.
Surprised, I looked up at him. He grinned, visibly younger, though not by much. A year, perhaps. See? I told you. Youre slow.
I could not help smiling as I understood. Do you think you might be up for tag?
It was midnight. My body wanted sleep, not games, which made me sluggish. That worked in Siehs favor, especially once he recovered enough to actually run. Then he chased me all over the chamber, amusing himself since I presented very little real challenge. It was doing him such noticeable good that I kept at it until he finally called a halt and we both flopped on the floor, panting. He looked, at last, normala spindly boy of nine or ten, beautiful and carefree. I no longer questioned why I loved him.
Well, that was fun, Sieh said at last. He sat up, stretched, and began beckoning the dead spheres to himself. They rolled across the floor to him, where he picked them up, petted them fondly, then lifted them into the air, giving each a practiced twist before releasing it to float away. So whats in the chest?
I glanced at Zhakkarn, who had not joined in our play. I suspected childrens games did not mesh well with the essence of battle. She nodded to me once, and this time it was approving. I flushed and looked away.
Letters, I said, putting my hand on my mothers chest. They are I hesitated, inexplicably reticent. My fathers letters to my mother, and some unsent drafts from her to him. I think I swallowed. My throat was suddenly tight, and my eyes stung. There is no logic to grief.
Sieh ignored me, brushing my hand out of the way before opening the chest. I regained my composure while he took out each letter, skimmed it, and laid it on the ground, eventually standing up to enlarge the pattern. I had no idea what he was doing as he finally set the last letter into the corner of a great square some five paces by five, with a smaller square off to the side for my mothers letters. Then he stood and folded his arms to stare down at the whole mess.
There are some missing, said Zhakkarn. I started to find her looming behind me, gazing down at the pattern as well.
Puzzled, I went to look myself, but could not read either my mothers fine script or my fathers more sprawling hand from this distance. How can you tell?
They both refer to prior letters, Zhakkarn said, pointing here and there at certain pages.
And the pattern is broken in too many places, Sieh added, stepping lightly between the pages to crouch and peer more closely at the letters. Both of them were creatures of habit, your parents. Once a week they wrote, regular as clockwork, over the span of a year. But there are sixno, seven weeks missing. No apologies after the missing weeks, and that is where I see references to the prior letters. He glanced back at me over his shoulder. Did anyone besides you know this chest was there? Wait, no, its been twenty years; half the palace mightve known.
I shook my head, frowning. They were hidden. The place seemed undisturbed
That might only mean it happened so long ago that the dust had time to settle. Sieh straightened, turning to me. What is it you were expecting to find here?
Viraine I set my jaw. Viraine says he was my mothers lover.
Sieh raised his eyebrows and exchanged a look with Zhakkarn. Im not certain I would use any part of the word love in what she did to him.
In the face of such casual confirmation, I could not protest. I sat down heavily.
Sieh flopped down on his belly beside me, propping himself on his elbows. What? Half of Sky is in bed with the other half at any given time.
I shook my head. Nothing. Its just a bit much to take.
Hes not your father or anything like that, if youre worried.
I rolled my eyes and raised my brown Darre hand. Im not.
Pleasure is often used as a weapon, Zhakkarn said. Theres no love in that.
I frowned at her, surprised by this notion. I still did not like the idea of my mother lying with Viraine, but it helped to think of it as strategy. But what had she hoped to gain? What did Viraine know that no one else in Sky knew? Or rather, what would the younger, smitten Virainenew to Sky, overconfident, eager to pleasehave been more likely to say than any other Arameri?
Something about magic, I murmured to myself. That must be what she was trying to get out of him. Something about you? I glanced over at Zhakkarn.
Zhakkarn shrugged. If she learned any such secrets, she never used them.
Hmm. What else is Viraine in charge of, here?
Magic use, Sieh said, ticking off fingers. Everything from the routine to, well, us. Information disseminationhes Dekartas liaison to the Itempan Order. He oversees all important ceremonies and rituals
Sieh trailed off. I looked at him and saw surprise on his face. I glanced at Zhakkarn, who looked thoughtful.
Ceremonies and rituals. A flicker of excitement stirred in my belly as I realized what Sieh meant. I sat up straighter. When was the last succession?
Dekartas was about forty years ago, Zhakkarn said.
My mother had been forty-five at her death. She would have been too young to understand what was happening at the ceremony.
She wasnt at the ceremony, Sieh said. Dekarta ordered me to play with her that day, to keep her busy.
That was surprising. Why would Dekarta have kept my mother, his heir, away from the ceremony that she would one day have to undertake herself? A bright child could have been made to understand its purpose. Was it that they meant to kill a servant in the course of the ceremony? But this was Sky; servants died all the time. I couldnt imagine any Arameri, much less my grandfather, denying that harsh reality even to a child.
Did anything unusual happen at that ceremony? I asked. Did you make a play for the Stone that time?
No, we werent ready. It was a routine succession, like the hundred others that have occurred since our imprisonment. Sieh sighed. Or so Im told, since I wasnt there. None of us were, except Nahadoth. They always make him attend.
I frowned. Why just him?
Itempas attends the ceremony, said Zhakkarn. While I gaped at her, trying to shape my mind around the idea of the Skyfather here, right here, coming here, Zhakkarn went on. He makes his greetings personally to the new Arameri ruler. Then he offers Nahadoth freedom, though only if he serves Itempas. Thus far, Naha has refused, but Itempas knows it is in his nature to change his mind. He will keep asking.
I shook my head, trying to rid myself of the lingering sense of reverence that a lifetime of training had inculcated in me. The Skyfather, at the succession ceremony. At every succession ceremony. He would be there to see me die. He would put his blessing on it.
Monstrous. All my life, I had worshipped him.
To distract myself from my own whirling thoughts, I pinched the bridge of my nose with my fingers. So who was the sacrifice last time? Some other hapless relative dragged into the family nightmare?
No, no, said Sieh. He got up, stretched again, then bent double and began to stand on his hands, wobbling alarmingly. He spoke in between puffing breaths. An Arameri clan head must be willing to kill every person in this palace if Itempas should require it. To prove themselves, usually the prospective head must sacrifice someone close.
I considered this. So I was chosen because neither Relad nor Scimina is close to anyone?
Sieh wobbled too much, tumbled to the ground, then rolled upright at once, examining his nails as if the fall hadnt happened. Well, I suppose. No ones really sure why Dekarta chose you. But for Dekarta himself, the sa
crifice was Ygreth.
The name teased my memory with familiarity, though I could not immediately place it with a face. Ygreth?
Sieh looked at me in surprise. His wife. Your maternal grandmother. Kinneth didnt tell you?
22
Such Rage
ARE YOU STILL ANGRY WITH ME?
No.
That was quick.
Anger is pointless.
I disagree. I think anger can be very powerful under the right circumstances. Let me tell you a story to illustrate. Once upon a time there was a little girl whose father murdered her mother.
How awful.
Yes, you understand that sort of betrayal. The little girl was very young at the time, so the truth was hidden from her. Perhaps she was told her mother abandoned the family. Perhaps her mother vanished; in their world, such things happened. But the little girl was very clever, and she had loved her mother dearly. She pretended to believe the lies, but in reality, she bided her time.
When she was older, wiser, she began to ask questionsbut not of her father, or anyone else who claimed to care for her. These could not be trusted. She asked her slaves, who hated her already. She asked an innocent young scrivener who was smitten with her, brilliant and easy to manipulate. She asked her enemies, the heretics, whom her family had persecuted for generations. None of them had any reason to lie, and between them all she pieced together the truth. Then she set all her mind and heart and formidable will on vengeance because that is what a daughter does when her mother has been murdered.
Ah, I see. But I wonder; did the little girl love her father?
I wonder that, too. Once, certainly, she must have; children cannot help loving. But what of later? Can love turn to hate so easily, so completely? Or did she weep inside even as she set herself against him? I do not know these things. But I do know that she set in motion a series of events that would shake the world even after her death, and inflict her vengeance on all humankind, not just her father. Because in the end, we are all complicit.
All of you? That seems a bit extreme.