Ginger improvised quickly. “It happens when sunlight reflects off openings in the roof.” Which was true in the RayLight Chamber.
“How unusual,” the Archivist said. “Especially since the sun had already gone down.”
Ginger flushed, too disconcerted to think of an excuse. “I don’t know, ma’am.”
After her guests left, Ginger stood in the temple entrance and gazed beyond the rock gardens toward the village. Jalla and her mother were red-robed figures barely visible in a landscape lit only by the ruddy light of a fading sunset.
An anomaly registered on Ginger. South of the village, two mounted figures on a ridge were silhouetted against the red sky. They were too far to see clearly, but she thought they wore peaked cowls similar to those used by Jazid nomads. Unease rippled through her. From their vantage point, they could be gazing straight at the temple.
Kindle joined her. “So Jalla is going to be a baker.”
“I guess so.” Ginger indicated the cowled figures. “Do you know who they are?”
He squinted at the ridge. “Nomads? Or miners.” A scowl creased his blocky features. “They won’t find a welcome here.”
“No, I imagine not,” Ginger said dryly. Darz certainly hadn’t. “Do you think they’re dangerous?”
He pulled himself up straighter. “Not with my sentinels guarding the town.”
She smiled at his pride in his men. Whatever she thought of Kindle personally, he was a good Flame Sentinel. “We are fortunate to have them.”
“Indeed.” He regarded her curiously. “The Archivist didn’t look happy.”
“She’s always in a bad mood around me,” Ginger grumbled.
“She’s jealous.”
Ginger would have laughed if she hadn’t been so disheartened. “Of what? I have nothing. She has a family and a high position in the village.”
“Ginger, you truly can be dense sometimes.”
She glared at him. “What does that mean?”
“She has a lot to envy.” He wiped sweat off his forehead with his sleeve. “You’re young, beautiful and voluptuous for starters.”
“What does voluptuous mean?”
“For flaming sake!” His face turned the color of the sunset. “The Elder is right. You’re too naïve for your own good.”
“Come on, Kindle. What does it mean?”
He cleared his throat. “You have a, uh, womanly form.”
“Oh.” She doubted the Archivist could care less. “That sounds like something a man would think.”
He looked exasperated. “In case you hadn’t noticed, that’s what I am.” His voice took on an edge. “Maybe our Archivist found it offensive that a priestess doing penance would be so shameless as to ask after the man who had soiled her.”
She felt as if he had slapped her. “That’s horrible.”
“Why him?” He sounded hurt as well as angry. “You never show such interest in—in anyone appropriate. Maybe if you didn’t spend so much time alone out here, you wouldn’t have so many inappropriate ideas.”
“Inappropriate ideas? About what?”
“You should stop thinking about the interloper.” He turned his head and spit in the rock garden. “Do what I tell you. Or else one of these days, the people who think you go too far will have enough fuel to make your life far hotter than you would ever like.”
She stared at him. “Are you threatening me?”
“By the Dragon!” He looked as if he wanted to shake her, and he even started to reach for her. Then he swore and dropped his arms. “I’m warning you. Get yourself married to an acceptable man, Ginger-Sun, and soon, or the things people say about you could get a lot worse. If your behavior shames us before the dragon, it won’t go easy on you.”
With that, he turned and walked away, his back stiff. She stared after him, stunned. They condemned her when she had done nothing wrong. It was true she had hesitated when Darz kissed her. But she told him to stop. Even if the Dragon-Sun begrudged her companionship, she knew she couldn’t have Darz. She couldn’t hide from the dragon; surely he realized she accepted the realities of her life.
Perhaps she had done wrong by performing spells. Night magic. She felt worn down. If the Archivist suspected her of witchery, gods only knew what would happen. She dreaded to think how the people of Sky Flames would react if they decided she had so severely transgressed against the sun.
9
Dragon's Claw
Six days after the Archivist’s visit, a crash reverberated through the temple. Alarmed, Ginger ran into the rock garden just as a thunder of falling rocks sounded.
Then it was quiet.
She stopped by an arch. The garden looked fine. Paths of blue gravel wound among cactus plants and beds of red pyramid-blossoms that opened at dawn. Vines with brilliant fire-lilies draped over graceful stone arches. Nowhere did she see anything that had crashed.
“Huh.” She walked through the garden, listening. In the distance, someone swore vehemently. That sounded like Kindle. So she went in search of her truculent guest.
Ginger found the source of the noise beyond several ridges; a small bluff had collapsed into rubble. The air above it swirled with dust, and grit tickled her nose. She didn’t know why the ridge would fall; it had looked perfectly stable the thousand or so times she had passed by this place.
“Kindle, where are you?” she shouted. Had he been under the bluff when it fell? “Are you all right? Kindle!”
A man walked out from behind the debris. When she realized it was Kindle, she gulped in a breath. How had he brought down the hill? Granted, it wasn’t a big one, but even so. She couldn’t fathom his purpose.
He grinned as she reached him. “You were worried about me.”
“I heard the crash,” she said, embarrassed now by her outburst. “I just came to see what happened.”
He laughed good-naturedly. “You don’t fool me. You were afraid I was hurt. Admit it.”
Here she had thought he perished under a ton of rubble and out he comes, smirking. “Of course I came to check. I would be worried for anyone who brought a hill down on his head.” Then she added, “Although some heads may be hard enough to survive.”
He regarded her with innocence. “Why would I have anything to do with the hill?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, hands on her hips. “Maybe because you are standing right here, looking guilty.”
“Not guilty. Frustrated.” He motioned at the rubble. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
Ginger had no idea what he had been doing. Although they had been together for nine days, she had avoided him since their argument about the Archivist. She left his meals in the room he had fixed up for himself, and she ate alone. Kindle, in turn, was gone for most of each day, ignoring the work Tajman had sent him here to do.
“Whatever are you doing out here?” she asked.
“What I promised you.”
“I didn’t ask you to crash rock.”
“Not crash. Explode.” He frowned at the collapsed hill. “I can’t figure how to control the powder.”
“You mean it works?” She gaped at him. “It really explodes?”
“Not very well.” He squinted into the air, which smelled of acrid chemicals. “It makes more smoke than bang. Unless I use a lot.” He turned back to her. “I followed the steps from the scroll. Even with that, it didn’t work at first. Or second. Or third.” Ruefully he said, “Or thirtieth. But I’m nothing if not persistent, eh, Ginger? I kept fiddling with ingredients, spark, trigger, confinement, everything. And finally it worked.”
Her smile broke out. “Gracious, you did it! Kindle! You’re brilliant. I never believed it would work.”
He stood up straighter, as if he felt taller. “It wasn’t that much.” Then he scratched his head. “I can’t make it do what I want, though. It’ll take time to figure out the details. And I’ve no idea why this fellow Charles calls it gunpowder. I’d think dragon-powder would be more apt.” He considered
her. “Maybe all that reading you do has some use after all.”
“I’m glad you think so.” Ginger would take a qualified approval over scowls any day. She wasn’t all that comfortable having the worth of her scholarship determined by her unearthing such a violent powder, but they might do a lot of good with it. The possibilities piled up in her mind. “It could help miners dig shafts. And we should send news to Quaaz! Tell the queen.” When she realized what she had said, her face heated. “Not that I mean to imply we have such importance.”
The entire time she spoke, Kindle was staring at the rubble. She wasn’t even sure he was listening. But then he said, “You’re right, we should write to Quaaz. No! Not a message.” He swung around to her. “I’ll go myself, to the army. Just think of the weapons this could make.”
“Weapons?” She didn’t want her discovery to hurt people.
“Right now, I can’t control it. It could just as easily blow up us as the enemy. But I can work on it. It will be a magnificent project.” His face flushed with excitement. “Perhaps they will call it kindle-powder.”
She smiled. “Or ginger-powder.”
He blinked. “You can’t call a weapon by a woman’s name.”
In truth, she didn’t want her name attached to a means of death. It just bothered her that his plans didn’t include her, after she had discovered the recipe for the powder. Knowing Kindle, by the time he reached Quaaz, his descriptions might leave her out altogether.
An idea came to her. She would have to present it with care, though, or he might blow up at her instead of blowing up hills. “Do you know how to see the queen? It must be difficult.”
He wiped his perspiring face with his sleeve. “I’ll have to go to an audience she holds for the public and present a petition to someone on her staff.”
She beamed at him. “You’ll write a great petition! I know it.” Lest she get in trouble for bypassing proper protocols, she added, “You’ll have to discuss it with the elders first, though.”
He stiffened. “They can’t stop me from going.”
She wasn’t so certain; in her experience, their decisions were often based on keeping things the same. But they all liked Kindle, so he would probably have a lot less trouble convincing them than if she suggested the trip.
“I’m sure you can win them over,” she said. “Just show them your petition. If it can persuade a queen, it will certainly work on Tajman and the others.”
“Queens don’t know weapons, I’m sure. It’s her generals I’ll have to convince.” After a long moment, he added, “Perhaps you could help me prepare the petition?”
His request didn’t surprise her. She was almost certain he couldn’t read or write. He had a good spoken vocabulary, though, and she had no doubt he could learn to read. She had thought she might offer to teach him, if she could find a way to suggest it without hurting his pride.
“I would be honored to help,” she said. It would give her a chance to include details about the discovery of the powder. Wistfully, she added, “I wish I could go with you. To see Quaaz! It would be so exciting.”
He was watching her oddly, with that intent focus so common in Sky Flames—and with something more. Hope?
“Do you mean that, Ginger-Sun?” he asked.
She suddenly realized what she had said. A woman couldn’t travel alone with a man unless she was his wife. She thought frantically for a way out of her gaffe. “I know it would be improper,” she said. “I didn’t mean to offend, Sentinel Burr.”
“No. You didn’t.” He seemed uncertain what to make of her. “Well, I should clean up. I’m starving.”
Ginger nodded, relieved to escape the uncomfortable moment. “I’ll have dinner ready when you get back to the temple.”
“Thank you.” As she started to leave, he said, “Ginger?”
She turned around. “Yes?”
“Would you—” he cleared his throat “—will you dine with me tonight?”
“Oh. Yes, of course.” Caught off guard, she added the formal words. “It would be my honor.”
He smiled, his teeth flashing white, and he scratched his stomach through his sweat-drenched shirt, where his once flat muscles were tending to fat. With no more preamble, he went back to his rubble, climbing up the mound.
As Ginger walked to the temple, she went over what had just happened. Could she marry Kindle? He did seem to want her, even if he was awkward in showing it, and the elders would probably approve the match. She just couldn’t imagine living with his mercurial temper, always afraid to say the wrong thing lest he become violent. She would also lose her independence; he would expect her to serve him as she served the temple. It was the way of things with her people.
Ginger rubbed her eyes. Tomorrow was Kindle’s last day here, and Darz’s last on the Claw. No one would tell her how Darz was doing, and it enraged Kindle if she mentioned him. But if Darz had died, surely someone would have let her know. At the least, she would have noticed a change in the behavior of those who visited the temple.
She didn’t know what would happen after tomorrow, but she could guess. Kindle would go to Quaaz, Darz would go to the army and she would be alone with the disapproval of Sky Flames.
Kindle and Ginger dined at a table in the gardens, under an arch heavy with yellow sun-snaps. She put her opal on the table as decoration, hoping Kindle would become so used to it that he stopped noticing it. She made curried lentils and rice and sweet-grain pancakes with honey, and she served it with cider from kegs in the cellar. She didn’t realize until she took a swallow of the juice that it had fermented. Kindle had already consumed more than a glass. Fortunately, though, he didn’t seem too affected. He wolfed down his meal with gratifying enthusiasm. Then he sat back in his chair, his face ruddy with the sunset, a glass of cider in his hand.
“That was really good,” he told Ginger.
“I’m glad you liked it.” She enjoyed cooking, especially when someone appreciated it.
He took a swallow of the cider, then gave a loud burp. When Ginger glared at him, he grinned. “It’s a compliment.” He drank more cider. “I could get used to living like this. At home, I have to eat my own cooking. Believe me, it’s not a treat.”
“I’m sure you do a fine job,” she assured him, not because she had any idea, but because it was almost automatic for her to soothe with her words and deeds. She liked to help people feel better.
“Ginger.” He was looking at her oddly. “You know…you could come to Quaaz.”
She heard what he didn’t say. As my wife. Awkwardly, she said, “Darz—I just don’t think—”
“What?” He slammed his cider on the table. The glass shattered and gold liquid splattered everywhere.
She jumped up and grabbed her cloth napkin. As she sopped up the cider, she said, “Why the blazes did you do that?”
“Don’t use that language with me,” he shouted, his face red. He pushed back his chair and stood up, looming over the table.
Ginger backed up. This wasn’t like when Darz got loud. She never feared he would strike out; he was just noisy. But she had no doubt Kindle would hit her if she angered him.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t understand what’s wrong.”
He spoke tightly. “My name is Kindle. Not Darz.” He spit out the name as if it were an oath.
“Ai, I’m sorry!” She could have kicked herself. “That was stupid of me.”
His fist clenched at his side. “You think too much about this intruder.” He came around the table toward her. “I want to know why you keep bringing him up.”
She took another step back. “He was almost dead. Now he’s had to stay on the Claw. He still could die. I feel responsible.”
He kept coming at her. “Why do you care, Ginger? Hoping he will take more liberties, is that it?”
“That’s horrible to say.”
“You make me say it! The way you act, tempting a man when he’s forbidden to touch you. You’re wicked.”
&n
bsp; “I’m not tempting anyone.” Her anger flared. “If you like me, Kindle, that’s something in you. Not me.”
“Don’t talk to me like that.” He looked her up and down in a way he would never have done when he was sober. “You act like one of those Jazid pleasure girls.”
“No I don’t!” Not that she had the least idea how a Jazid pleasure girl acted. “I’m not interested in you that way.” Too late, she realized how her words sounded, that it was probably the worst thing she could have said.
“Don’t talk like that!” he shouted. His face blazed as he strode toward her. She tried to dart away, but her wrap caught her feet and she stumbled against the arch. Sun-snaps crushed around her, cloying in their sweet smell. Backed up against the stone, she stared up as Kindle loomed over her. He weighed twice as much as she did, and most of it was still muscle.
“You make me do this.” He slapped her across the face, and her head snapped to the side, into the mashed flowers.
“No!” Frantic, her cheek burning, she shoved against his arms. It caught him by surprise, and he jerked back. She started to run for the temple, but the wrap tripped her. As she fell, he caught her around the waist and swung her back to the arch, lifting her off the ground. “Stay still,” he shouted.
Her sense of time slowed down. She saw his hand descending and knew he wouldn’t stop at a slap this time. She twisted hard and clawed her fingernails down his face. As he swore at her, his grip loosened. She lunged away and yanked on her wrap so hard that it ripped up her legs. Then she ran.
The thud of Kindle’s boots pounded behind her. It took her only seconds to reach the temple, but it felt like forever. Her wrap ripped more with every step. She raced across the main room and threw herself into her suite. When she whirled around, he was only a few paces behind her. She heaved the door shut with a bang and slammed the bolt home.
“Open that up!” he shouted.
Gasping for breath, she sagged against the door and pressed her hands on its lacquered surface, as if that could push him away. She couldn’t fathom his rages. No, she shouldn’t have called him Darz. But no one, no one, had the right to beat her. If he didn’t like the way she spoke, he could walk away, withdraw his marriage hints, refuse to eat with her, anything. She didn’t make him hit her. He could have held back. She was so angry, she was tempted to yell that all through the door. She bit back the impulse, knowing it would only make matters worse.