Misery's Child (The Cadian Chronicles) (15 page)

“Dubriel was so
jealous she had her guards spy on Tatrahayna wherever he went. Day after day,
the spies reported the same thing: Tatrahayna never went into the village. He
went nowhere but those places he had reason to go. No, he never met a woman.

“No woman at all?
asked
Dubriel in exasperation one day.

“No, milady.
Unless you count the girl who draws water for his horse along the
road.
But he never even speaks to her.”

“But he stops at
the same well every day?”

“Yes, milady.”

“The next day,
Dubriel disguised herself as an old beggar woman and waited by the well. Sure
enough, a young girl came along.

“‘Can I help you,
mother?’ the girl asked. ‘Can I get you some water?’

“‘Bless you, my
child. I’m parched and too weak to draw up the bucket.’

“After Dubriel had
drunk the water the girl gave her, she said, ‘
And
why
do you come all the way out to this well? Isn’t there a closer well in your
village proper?’

“‘Oh, yes,’ the
girl said. ‘But the man I love more than life itself rides past this well every
day. I know he and I can never speak again, for he is joined to another. Still,
it eases my heart just to see him and know that he is well.’”

“Dubriel choked
back her rage, for just at that moment, Tatrahayna rode along. He took no
notice of the old beggar woman, only drank in the face of his beloved
Pattia—for that was her name—as he drank in the water. When Dubriel
saw the way they looked at each other without speaking a word, something inside
her heart shattered.

“Now, in these
days before Oman had revealed His Will and Purpose to the people of our lands,
they worshipped the many lesser gods whom Oman had created for companions
before He breathed life into man. Dubriel sought out one of the old gods of the
rocks and sacrificed a black goat in his name. ‘Oh great god of the rocks, that
the ancient ones called Erudicyes, I beg you to hear me and grant me this
favor.”

“Erudicyes came
forward, summoned from his caves deep underground by the spilled blood of the
goat. ‘Woman, why do you disturb my rest?’

“‘My husband loves
another and I cannot bear it. Send Pattia far
far
away, where he will never see her face again.’

“Erudicyes sought
out Pattia but could not bring himself to kill her because she was so innocent
and kind. Instead, he made a bargain with the sun god to take
Pattia’s
soul and hide it in the heavens where Dubriel
could never harm her, no matter how many old gods she called forth. Pattia
agreed to this, because she would be able see her beloved’s face every single
night. Even when she looked down and saw him sleeping beside Dubriel, she was
happy still, because he was well and safe.

“When Tatrahayna
went to the well the next day and Pattia was not there, he was frantic.
Forgetting his promise to the king and his wife, he searched the countryside
for Pattia. He called up every old god he could think of and asked each if they
had seen her. Finally, Erudicyes came forth and was very angry.

‘I understand your
love for Pattia,’ the old god said, ‘but you have forgotten your pledge to king
and country. You have humiliated your wife by roaming the countryside crying
for the one you love. I cannot help you.’

“Tatrahayna was
shamed but he could not give up. For days and days he had not seen his
beloved’s face. His soul wasted away. He went to his king and his wife, knelt
before them and apologized for forgetting his honor and his pledge. He begged
their forgiveness. Dubriel, thinking that at last Tatrahayna would love her,
forgave him.

‘Come my love,’
Dubriel said, ‘we will go home and forget this ever happened.’

‘Oh, no, kind
wife,’ Tatrahayna said with tears in his eyes. ‘I cannot live without Pattia. I
am dying. Please forgive me.’

“The great warrior
fell down dead at
Dubriel’s
feet.

“Jealous to the
last, Dubriel tried to catch his soul as it left his body.

“When the old gods
saw Dubriel clutching at Tatrayhayna’s soul instead of letting it come to them,
they turned her to stone. Her father, the king, wept and set her frozen figure
in the village square as a warning to anyone foolish enough to keep a soul from
the gods.

“Pattia, seeing
all this, sobbed and begged, calling on Erudicyes to pity her and her poor
beloved. Erudicyes, because he loved Pattia himself and could not bear to hear
her crying, gathered Tatrayhayna’s freed soul and took him into the heavens,
where he made the warrior’s soul into a second moon.

“And Pattia and
Tatrahayna have been in the sky, looking at each other across the heavens ever
since,” Lillitha whispered. “Every six summers, their orbits align and for a
brief season they are together.”

Edlin
sighed.

“Tis a sad story,
Lilli. I don’t think I like it.”

“Oh, no. I think
it’s beautiful. Imagine loving someone so much that you could be happy just to
look on his face.”

“I don’t think
I’ll ever have that kind of love, do you?” Edlin sighed and her fingers curled
around a lock of her mistress’ hair. “There’s not a single face around here I’d
give a second glance. Not like your friend, the prince.”

Lillitha pinched
Edlin until she squirmed. “That was ages ago. I was a child.”

“If I could see
your face, I’d bet you’re blushing! You mooned over him two whole seasons after
you came back from the fair.”

“That’s not true
and you know it. I may have mooned for a little while, but that was before my
dedication.”

And
,
she thought wistfully,
before his letters
stopped without explanation.

Her face grew hot
just thinking about the ridiculous daydreams she’d woven about Scearce. What
does a ten-summers’ child know about real love? It was a
fancy,
that
was all. His letters had carried nothing but friendship.

“You said he was
lovely. Like a girl, almost.”

“Well, he’s
forgotten I ever drew breath by now.”

“Still, I’ll bet
his is a face worth plenty of second glances. Not like the dolts around here.”

“Not even Shemus
Roddy? He fancies you, you know.”

Edlin feigned a
shudder. “He’s got a big nose.”

“No, he doesn’t,”
Lilli
snorted. “He’s got an
enormous
nose!”

This set the two
girls to giggling breathlessly.

“Do you think you
will love the shallan? If you are chosen, I mean?”

“I don’t know.
Yanna says not, but perhaps it is no different than any other arranged
marriage. I will certainly try to love him as I love Oman.”

Tears welled in
the corner of Edlin’s eyes. She tried to blink them away, not wanting to add to
her best friend’s burdens. But as usual, Lillitha saw right through her.

“Oh, Edlin, please
don’t cry for me.”

“I’m not crying
for you, you silly goose!” Edlin forced a laugh, wiping at her eyes. “You’re
going to sleep on silken sheets and eat berries and cream every single day for
breakfast. You’ll make lots of new friends who are sure to be smarter than me.
I’m going to be stuck here all alone. I will miss you so.”

She could never
make Edlin believe that she’d change places in a moment. She envied her friend
who would stay behind with her family, choose the man whose bed she would share,
to have ordinary children she could raise and love—not the future shallan
who would be raised by cadia, bene priests and servants.

“I’ll never make
another friend like you,” Lillitha said, pressing her lips gently into Edlin’s
hair. Her heart ached. No matter how learned and witty and kind the other cadia
turned out to be, none of them would share the memories she and Edlin had
forged over a shared childhood. They would not know about the kittens she and
Edlin had rescued from the well and nursed back to health. They would not have
heard the same
calla-mundies
at
bedtime from her father, shivered in the same bed through harsh winters, thrown
biscuits from the tower at her brothers, spent summers weaving wild flowers
into crowns....

If she became the
Chosen, not even Yanna would go with her into the palace. Her job done, Yanna
would be reassigned to some other consecratia, mayhaps at the farthest ends of
the realm. The thought of being so alone sent a shiver along her spine.

It would do no good to dwell on these things. The
least she could do was make Edlin feel better. “All the other cadia will
probably be insufferably haughty. I bet they won’t laugh at my awful jokes,
either.”

“And I shall be so
lonely I will have to marry Shemus and his enormous nose, just for company.”

“And have babies
with enormous noses, too.”

Even as the bed
springs squeaked with their silent laughter, Lillitha thought she had never
been so miserable in her life.

Chapter 9: The Road to Shamonoza

Excerpt from a
letter of Cadia-techa Yannamarie to Cadia-dedre Osane:

My dear friend,
you are doubtless correct that my judgment in the matter is colored by my
affection for the girl, but she is truly remarkable. A quick student who
applies herself above and beyond what I expect from her, she has a sweet and
loving nature and an innate eagerness to please. My only reservation is that
she still harbors such anxiety about the Choosing. My eyes and ears tell me she
is devoted to her duty and comes to us with a willing heart, but there is
something else in her, some fragility that touches my maternal instincts and
keeps me awake long into the night worrying for her. Don’t you dare laugh at
me, Osane! I know I sound just like all those pampering mothers who are loath
to have their precious daughters leave the nest. It was you, remember, who
suggested I become a techa. What was it you told me?
That I
had the “natural disposition of a petty tyrant unburdened by the sentimentality
of most women” so that I would make the perfect teacher for consecratia.
Indeed!

Shamonoza, the
sacred city of the Shallan in the province of Shallanie, was located on the
Great River in the heart of the Realm. At best, Rowle said, it would take a
fortnight to travel the distance with such a motley collection of persons and
conveyances.

Paul, beside
himself with excitement and trying vainly not to show it, rode a timid
sway-backed mare alongside his father. He carried the fading banner of
Kirrisian house, red with three gold circles. Behind him, Ersala and Marta rode
in a somewhat shaky dray along with the trunks containing clothes and
provisions.

Marta had been the
one to suggest repainting the dray, hoping to camouflage its flaws. To her
dismay, it still looked like a wreck of splinters and loose boards, albeit a freshly
painted one. She didn’t know what was worse: sitting beside her mother day in
and day out or swallowing the great mouthfuls of dust kicked up by the two plow
mules that pulled the dray. The sun seemed to grow hotter with every parsec
while perspiration puddled under her breasts and in her armpits.

“Marta, for Oman’s
sake,” her mother sighed, “hold that parasol steady if you insist on carrying
such a ridiculous thing. That’s the third time you’ve nearly taken my eye out
with it.”

Marta cast a
glance backward at the two-wheeled litter in which Lillitha and Yannamarie rode
in shady comfort. Her father had traded three volumes of the Histories and two
sheep to
Toliver
in the village for the refurbished
litter, which had once belonged to Tomack’s mother. (Mistress Danaus had traded
it in for a newer model with springs that rode with greater comfort.) The
polished fen wood gleamed in the sunlight. The carved fish along the framework
seem to be swimming in a deep, dark sea. The doors had gold-gilded handles and
the windows were screened with muslin finer than any dress Marta’d ever owned.
The seat cushions were plump, upholstered in real, if faded, velvet.

It would do no
good to sigh over the injustice. Her mother would only tell her that tradition
said Lillitha must travel in closed litter. At fifteen, Marta was finally
resigned to the fact that no one could argue with Oman.
Or
her mother.

“By the beard,
‘tis shamed I am to see this rag-tag bunch tramping along beside us,” Rowle
said, drawing his horse closer and leaning down to his wife’s ear. “The
Shallanie will laugh us out of the city.”

“Hush, husband.”
Ersala glanced over at the straggling line of soldiers marching on either side
of them. “They can’t help it that they’re young.”

“Aye, wife. Tis
true. They’re good boys, just a little green.”

“They’re babies,
father.” Marta squinted into the sun and felt very much grownup to be a party
to an adult conversation between her parents. “You should have sent them back
home and made their older brothers come instead.”