“You’ve downed twice as much as I have. Anyway, I’m sure of it.” Abruptly, taken aback by how badly he wanted it to be true, Joss leaned forward and fixed Peddo with a glare. “There must be a place where the shadows haven’t fallen. Somewhere folk go about their lives in a measure of peace, like they used to here. Don’t you think so?”
Peddo sighed. He bent closer, and pinned Joss’s wrist to the table with the pressure of his hand. “You know what it says in the Tale of the Guardians. ‘Corruption and virtue wax and wane within the heart. Yet it is the dutiful strength and steady hand of those who live and die while about the ordinary tasks of the world that create most of that which we call good and harmonious.’ If you give up hope, if you give up trying, you’ll never find peace. No one will.”
He sat back, released Joss’s wrist, and drained his cup. Glancing toward the table by the door, he suddenly sat up straighten “Whoop. He’s coming this way.”
“You’re blushing,” said Joss, unaccountably cheered by the sight, as if Peddo’s blush of itself could banish shadows. “Do you want me to get out of your way?”
“Yes, but stick around long enough to open up the conversation and make me look clever and funny.”
“That won’t be easy!”
“Maybe not, but it can’t be any harder than tracking down the most beautiful woman in all creation. If such a thing even exists, which I doubt.”
“Best get my practice in, then.” As the young firefighter paused beside their table and offered them a sweet, if tentative, smile, Joss lifted a hand to indicate the bench beside Peddo. “Greetings of the day to you, ver. Can we buy you a drink?”
PART THREE: GHOSTS
In the South: Kartu Town, on the Golden Road
6
IT BEGAN WITH such a small thing. Who could have known?
“I’m thirsty, Mai! My throat is dry dry dry!”
Mai loved her half sister and cousin Ti; she really did. But despite being the same age as Mai, Ti could not sit still for more than five breaths at a time. On the days when Ti came with her to sell produce at the marketplace, it wasn’t very restful.
“Go and get a bowl of kama juice, then. We’ll share it. Here.” She unhooked the wooden measuring bowl from the handle of the cart. “But hurry. I can’t sell almonds without the bowl.”
Ti grabbed the bowl out of her hand and bounced off into the swirl of the marketplace, all bright awnings, swarming buyers, and gesticulating sellers. Kartu Town’s main marketplace was actually one long street that emptied into the main square. Folk brought their carts and set up their stalls on either side of the street most days, raising awnings or parasols depending on the season and time of day to ward off the sun’s glare. The marketplace used to be in the square itself, but not anymore, of course. That had all ended twelve years ago.
Kartu’s residents had adapted. As Grandmother said, Kartu Town thrived because the townsfolk were reeds, able to bend when the wind blew.
“Ah, Mai’ili, such a fine day!” Mistress Zaldra swept up to Mai’s cart with her youngest child in tow and a slave boy carrying her purchases.
“A fine day, indeed, Mistress Zaldra. I hope you are well.”
“I’m not well!”
“I’m sorry to hear it. What troubles you today, Mistress?”
Her catalogue of troubles was lengthy and detailed, but Mai asked her questions each time she paused for breath and it was the widow herself who finally brought her complaints to a close. “Enough! I have need of peaches, dear.”
“The market rate is one zastra a peach today. That’s what everyone is charging.”
“I can’t afford that today! Not after the Qin commander took those two bolts of linen at half the price they’re worth! I’ll give you three zastras for five peaches.”
“Mistress Zaldra, my father would beat me if I came home and told him I’d undersold by such a price. But since you are such a faithful customer, I can offer you five peaches for four zastras.”
She smiled. “I’m sure I can get a better price farther down, but you have a good heart, Mai’ili. I’ll have five, then.” She handed over four zastras and pointed to the fruit she wanted, then turned to the slave boy. “Don’t bruise them, Orphan, or it’ll be a beating for you!”
The child limped forward. Mai gendy placed each one in the basket he carried and, when he glanced shyly up at her, she smiled at him until she saw a flush darken his cheeks. “Go on, Havo,” she said in a low voice, calling him by the name he had once had, back when he had had a family. Poor little boy. “Just walk softly. You’ll be fine.”
His lips trembled. He wouldn’t be fine, but it didn’t hurt to show him kindness.
“Orphan! How slowly must you move?”
He hobbled after his mistress.
Mai watched him go, then greeted another customer. “Ah, Master Vin. You are well today?”
“Always well when I see your pretty face, Mai’ili. I see you have peaches but I am also needing a melon. What’s the market rate?”
“One zastra a peach today. That’s what everyone is charging.”
“Okay. What about the melons?”
He took his time choosing, smiled at her, flirted a little although he had a perfectly nice wife who often bought fruit from Mai’s cart as well. Still, what harm? He made only the barest effort to haggle, enough not to shame himself, so she always got an excellent price. She was settling his produce into his market basket when Ti returned.
“Why? Why? Why?” Ti swung the empty bowl in a circle. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were round with indignation. “Why do they have to come into the marketplace? Can’t they just stay in their fort? Every clan has to deliver supplies there anyway, so why do they have to come out here?”
“Hush, girl!” exclaimed Master Vin, now pale and nervous. “You know what they do to folk who speak against them!” He grabbed his basket from Mai and hurried away.
“You didn’t get any kama juice, Ti?”
“Hu! Those Qin soldiers! Walking through the market like they own the place!”
“The Qin rule us. Of course they can walk anywhere they please.”
“I hate it! Don’t you hate it, Mai?”
Mai sighed and rearranged the peaches now that she had lost the ten best off the top of the pile. A different pattern of stacking would display those remaining to better advantage. “Hating doesn’t change things, Ti. Remember what happened to Uncle—”
“Don’t say his name! His ghost will haunt us! It’ll spit at us when we’re not looking!”
Mai finished with the peaches without replying, knowing Ti could not stay still for long.
“If I go around through Spice Alley I can get to Abi’s stall without running into them again. I’m so thirsty. If I don’t drink something now I’ll die die die! Here they come.” Ti flounced off in the other direction as Mai, startled, looked up.
Five soldiers strolled down the middle of the dusty street. They wore the typical dress of the Qin military: knee-length black silk tunics that tied down the front and were slit for riding, belt and sword, baggy trousers, soft boots, and their hair up in a topknot in the back. It was actually kind of amusing to watch. Although the four soldiers and one officer strolled rather than marched, although they paused now and again to survey the contents of a blanket laid out over the ground or to point at bowls or pots or fruit arranged in a handcart or wagon, they did not swagger, much, or shove their way through the market throngs like bulls. Yet folk melted away. Conversations faded to silence. Market women trembled, and one old man offered the Qin captain a melon, which the officer refused.
They were not monsters. In truth, although strict and ruthless, the Qin ruled more fairly, Grandmother often pointed out, than had the corrupt Mariha princes who preceded them. Taxes and more taxes and yet more again! That was all the Mariha princes had wanted.
“A good morning to you, Mai’ili! I see the overlords are come to sniff at the orchid.”
Mai jumped. “Wi
dow Xania! I didn’t see you coming.”
Widow Xania had a grin that was more like a grimace. She meant well, but no one liked her. “Careful how you look at them, child. They’ll notice you. You know what happened to Clan Bishi’s daughter, that one that got taken off to the brothel three years ago because she caught a captain’s fancy. I don’t know why your father displays you in the market like this when there’s already talk of a marriage between you and the Gandi-li clan boy. But I suppose men like Master Vin don’t haggle much. I imagine you get the best prices in this market! What man can haggle when faced with such beauty?” She cackled.
Mai smiled patiently. “How can I help you today, Widow Xania? I hope your son is well?”
“Thank you for asking. You seem to be the only person who remembers him! I just received word from him yesterday, by way of some shepherds, out of the Gandi clan, in fact, who had been up to the temple and spoke to him there. The discipline has given him peace.”
“It was very sad about his wife and son.”
“Yes, indeed.” She touched an eye. “The wind’s blown some dust in. There, it’s gone. I’ll need two melons. Just pick out two for me. I trust your judgment. And some sword-fruit.”
“Green or ripe?”
“Green, for frying. But the melons ripe. My sister’s son is coming today, so I have to feed him. I suppose he hopes he’ll inherit the house when I’m gone.”
“Surely not!”
“You know what people are! Always grasping. Always wanting more, and not caring how much pain others suffer! If only my daughter hadn’t died—if only my daughter-in-law and the baby—well. How much?”
“Twelve for everything.”
“Twelve! No one else in this market would rob me like that!”
“It is the going price, Widow Xania.”
“Surely not! I can’t give you more than seven.”
“Seven is very low. My father would beat me—”
“As if your father would ever beat you! You are the flower of his household. Seven!”
“I really can’t sell them for seven, but for you because of your recent sorrows I will make an exception and let you have these for eleven.”
“That’s robbery! Eight.”
“No less than ten.”
“I’ll consider nine if you throw in a peach.”
“With two peaches, for ten.”
“Done.”
Being particular about how things were arranged, Widow Xania always packed her market basket herself. Mai looked past her only to discover that the Qin officer had paused at the vendor beside them. He was standing in front of the blanket where old lady Tirza sold tomatoes and cucumbers, but he was looking right at Mai. His soldiers waited on the street behind him, arms crossed, bored. Widow Xania finished her packing, straightened up, and saw them. The widow’s eyes widened and her mouth pouched in a way that would have struck Mai as comical if she wasn’t just now thinking of the fate of that Bishi girl. A Qin captain who lusted after that girl had walked right into the women’s baths one day and hauled her off to the brothel and done what he wished since there was no one to stop him. The Qin commander had made him pay a handsome price to the family, and no respectable family had suffered such an indignity since, but they all knew it could happen again.
It was only a matter of time.
Widow Xania clutched her basket and tottered away. All around, the market fell silent. Probably every soul in sight of Mai’s cart and the handsome parasol that shaded her was recalling the Bishi girl and her stained honor. The Bishi family had lost face as well, and the girl had eventually been hauled away by some merchant or another who had hired her on as a temporary wife along the Golden Road. It was the best a ruined girl could hope for.
But I am not a ruined girl. I am Mai’ili, eldest child and first daughter of the Mei clan. I have no need to cower before these men.
Although it was always wise to be respectful.
She touched her lips to her wolf ring, sigil of the proud Mei clan, as she bent to retrieve a few melons from the box beneath her feet. When she rose she faced the captain, who had moved to stand before her cart. He smiled, just slightly, as she stood there with a melon in each hand. Taking in a firm breath, she arranged them with the others before turning to him. He had a graciously oval face and a pleasingly dark complexion, with deep-set eyes and a light beard, unusual among the Qin, and a mustache. Only his hooked nose seemed out of place, as if it had come from somewhere else. The sun was not brighter than the golden silk of the tabard worn over his black tunic; only officers were allowed to wear that particular intense color.
“How may I help you today, sir? As you can see, I have peaches, melons, sword-fruit, and almonds today.”
He did not look at her wares, but his gaze did skip up above her head.
“That’s a distinctive amaranth pattern on your parasol. Does it come from Sirniaka?”
She laughed out of surprise, then touched fingers to lips to stop herself. That would teach her to think so well of herself! “I’m not sure,” she admitted. “My father bought it for me last year when I celebrated my sixteenth year. He bought it from a merchant who had come from the east. Isn’t Sirniaka a great kingdom in the east, beyond the eastern Mariha cities?”
“The Mariha cities are all under the rule of the Qin var now,” he corrected, “but otherwise you are right. It’s an unusual parasol, quite beautiful. In the Sirniakan Empire, that pattern is reserved for girls of marriageable age. By displaying it, they indicate they are available for an alliance.”
She flushed. Her heart raced. “An alliance?”
“Marriage. A wedding. You have such customs here, do you not?”
“Of course we do.”
He smiled again. He looked like a man who had seen a fair bit of the world. He was perhaps ten years older than she was, not that that would ever make the slightest bit of difference to her, who was going to marry that boy from the Gandi sheepherders clan whom she’d known all her life and who was a perfectly nice young man about Uncle Shai’s age, not more than two or three years older than she was. Perfectly nice.
“Almonds,” he said, as if repeating himself. “Two bowlsful.” He beckoned to one of his soldiers, who sauntered up with a small leather sack.
“Oh! Yes!” But Ti had taken her measuring bowl to get juice!
“No bowl?” he asked. “Two handfuls will do as well.”
She scooped, and he held out cupped hands so she had perforce to pour the almonds into his waiting hands, and by one means or another he brushed her, or she him. His skin was cool, although the sun was hot. Yet she hadn’t lost her wits. She named as an opening price twice what she would charge to a local.
He paid it without haggling.
7
Shai never spoke much. He didn’t see the point of speaking, since no one ever listened to him, and those who did then usually snapped at him for having the temerity to speak. Best to keep your own counsel under those circumstances.
So it was a wonder to him when his niece Ti’ili came running on the path that led from town up the gentle, grassy slope of Dezara Mountain to the base of the spring pasture. Here, beside a copse of very young birch trees he’d planted and watered himself, he had set up his woodworking shed so he could work in peace without four elder brothers and their five meddling wives and the truculent ghost of his sixth brother plaguing him. Ti’s black braids flapped as she ran. He set his attention back to the work before him as she pulled up, gasping, under the shade of the open shed.
“Uncle Shai! You’ve got to come! You’ve got to speak up for Mai!”
He finished the stroke of his adze and ran his hand along the grain of the pine log he was planing down to make a fine bedstead for the wedding. Good and smooth, ready to cut to length. When he was done, he looked up at Ti.
“But you’ve got to! She’s been crying all day. You know it isn’t right that they marry her off to a Qin, even if he is an officer!”
He studied the l
og, the second of two precious trunks his elder brothers had traded three ewes for so that the family wouldn’t be embarrassed when it came time to stand up at the law court and seal the marriage. The legs, out of the other log, were already carved and oiled. He was preparing the last of the supports, although he wasn’t going to have time to carve as elaborate a frieze into the wood as he would have liked, not with the date already chosen and written into the law court’s record. Seventeen days from now.
“He’ll beat her! He’s buried one wife already. He admitted it himself! We’ll never see her again! Never! Never! Never! He’ll get tired of her and sell her into slavery and there’ll be nothing we can do to stop it! His masters will be overthrown and he’ll be killed in battle and then—!”
“Hush!” He stood, casting his gaze about, but his two younger nephews—Ti’s cousins—were out of earshot tending to the sheep.
She kicked at wood shavings with her pretty red slippers, knowing she had gone too far. While it was perfectly true that the Qin had ruled Kartu Town for only the last twelve years, and that shifting alliances, a death in the var’s family, or an unexpected push from the eastern cities might cause the Qin horsemen to retreat and some other power to take their place, it was still treason to speak of such a thing. Ti was only two years younger than he was. She knew as well as he did what the Qin did to their enemies or even to those who only spoke ill-considered words against them.
She looked back down the path, following his gaze. Kartu Town was not much to look at, a dusty bee’s hive of compounds surrounded by an inner wall which was itself surrounded by startlingly green orchards crisscrossed by slender irrigation canals. Beyond the orchards lay a thick mud-brick outer wall studded with watchtowers and guardposts. The wall was wide enough to allow Qin guardsmen to ride their rounds atop it instead of walking. They hated to walk. The citadel, a circular structure of baked brick, rose at the northwestern corner of the inner town. In the square fronting the citadel rose the gallows, and today three posts were decorated with remains. A vulture circled.