Spear of Heaven (25 page)

“I know that,” she said impatiently. “I’ve known it since we
came here.”

“You don’t know how close the king is to the edge.” Bundur
took both her hands, though she resisted, and held them. “Listen to me. I visit
the king often—he’s my mother’s brother, it’s expected. We’re fond of one
another. But he’s immovably convinced that foreigners mean nothing but harm to
Su-Shaklan, and foreigners of your ilk more than any other. This morning he
told me that if I want to keep you safe, I had best marry you soon, and bring
you all under the protection of Janabundur. Otherwise he can’t promise that any
of you will escape this place alive.”

Daruya’s lip curled. “Oh, do tell me another. Why in the
hells would the king tell you that, if he hates us so much? He’d be locking you
up for a madman, for wanting to marry me at all.”

“He understands the soul-bond,” Bundur said. “He doesn’t
like it, he doesn’t approve of it, but he can’t deny it. ‘Marry her,’ he said, ‘and
seal it for all to see. Or see her hunted down and killed with all the rest of
her kind.’” His hands tightened, bruising-hard. “Lady, Daruya, he’s not an evil
man, but he’s a righteous one. And he’s beat upon day and night by those who
hunger for your blood and the blood of all mages. It’s an old, old hate, from
the beginning of the kingdom. He fights it, but he can’t fight it much longer.”

“Then how come you can?”

“Maybe,” he said, “because I’m not the king. My mind is my
own. I can use it to think, and my eyes to see. You’re no more evil than any
other child of men.”

“If no less.” Damn, thought Daruya. Her fingers were locked
with his again. They seemed to think that that was the way of nature.

This must be what Vanyi felt when she was with Estarion—and
forty years had done nothing to ease it, either. What Estarion felt with Vanyi,
Daruya could not presume to know. He loved his empress, of that she was
certain. He had refused an Asanian harem for her, but as she grew old but he
did not, he had taken other lovers, with the empress’ knowledge and consent.

The first one or two, Daruya had reason to suspect, had been
of the empress’ choosing. The empress was Asanian. She would have been
perturbed, even offended, if he had forsaken all the pleasures of the bedchamber,
simply because she was not herself able to share them.

None of those lovers had been Vanyi. With Vanyi it would
have mattered too much.

Getting with child had been simple compared to this. Daruya
chose the man, she found him willing, she took what she needed and bade him
farewell, and that was that.

He went back to his doting wife. She went back to her
grandfather, and to the splendor of a scandal.

This would be a scandal only insofar as the man was a
foreigner. Her grandfather approved it, the more fool he. The Master of the
Guild wanted it—pressed her to do it. They all saw the advantage in it: the
embassy saved, and their lives too if Bundur spoke the truth. None of them
seemed to comprehend that when a woman married, she married, one could hope, until
she died.

Or she might not. She might leave her husband. Daruya might
leave Shurakan when their embassy had done what it set out to do; leave him, go
back to Starios, be princess-heir again without the pressure of urging that she
marry and be respectable. Her child would have a father-in-name. The man who
held that name . . .

“This is impossible,” she said. “We can’t do it.”

“We can,” he said, as she had known he would.

“Then why,” she inquired acidly, “don’t you marry Vanyi
instead? She’d do anything to further this embassy. She’s not bound to any one
place, she’s not heir to any empire, she’s not young, either, but she’s strong;
she’ll live another thirty years, and keep you well satisfied, too.”

“The Lady Vanyi is not soulbound to me,” said Bundur, “or I
might consider it.”

“If I said the words with you,” said Daruya through clenched
teeth, “I could not promise to stay with you, or even to stay married to you
for longer than necessity requires.”

“I could take that risk,” he said.

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“On the contrary,” said Bundur, and for the first time she
saw a hint of temper, “I do. Give me credit for a little wit, my lady. I
understand all the arguments against this—I’ve had them from my kin, too. None
of them matters. Nothing matters but that my soul bids me take you.”

“And that we’re in danger if I don’t.”

“Well,” he said. “If you weren’t, I wouldn’t push so hard or
so fast. Too fast for you, I know. But the king never cries the alarm without
excellent reason.”

“I’ll think about it,” said Daruya, pulling free as she
always seemed to be doing, and leaving him before he could call her back.

Kimeri decided she did not hate Hani after all, even if he
was a coward. He kept saying he had been going to get help, but she went away
before he could come back—very well, she would say she believed him. It was
true he was afraid of the tall woman, though why he should be, she could not
imagine. The woman was of high rank, but then so was Kimeri; and Kimeri’s
mother was as tall as most men, and quite terrifying too when she was in a
temper.

Kimeri would be that tall someday, everybody said she would.
She was looking forward to it. Then Hani would be afraid of her, and she would
show him what an idiot he was.

They had called truce for the festival, and had a splendid
time, even if Hani’s grandmother had dragged them back home much too early and
put them to bed in the same room. They were going to be sister and brother,
Hani’s grandmother was thinking, because Kimeri’s mother was going to marry Hani’s
father.

Kimeri had her doubts about that. Hani’s father was big and
handsome, and he made the room brighter when he came into it, but Kimeri’s
mother was very clever about escaping from people who wanted to marry her.

oOo

Kimeri had the same dream as always, the same dark place,
the same presence that she knew was the Guardian in the Gate. As always, she
was glad to wake up, but sorry, too: the Guardian’s sorrow, because while she
dreamed he had company, but while she was awake he was all alone. It was
hurting more, the longer he stayed in the Gate, but at the same time it was
hurting less, as if he had stopped caring about being alive again.

She was surprised to wake up and find the walls all wrong,
and the bed not the bed she had got used to. She was in Hani’s house, and Hani
was sound asleep in the bed next to hers. Kimeri thought about waking him up,
but if he stayed asleep she could have all of the tea with honey in it that a
servant brought as soon as she got out of bed, and most of the redspice buns.
She ended up leaving him some of each, because she was not as selfish as she
might be.

There was an Olenyas sitting in a shadow the way they liked
to do, waiting for her. It was a different one than had been there when she
went to sleep.

“Rahai,” she said, touching his shoulder. His eyes were dark
for an Olenyas’, almost brown. They smiled at her. He got to his feet in the
way she tried to copy but never could, as if he had no bones at all, and
followed her when she walked out of the room and the house.

He knew where to go once they were outside, which saved her
trouble, because she wanted to dawdle and not pay attention to where she was
going. The city was all quiet and rather tired, with bits of festival garland
scattered everywhere, and sleepy-eyed people sweeping it up. Nearly everybody
was still asleep, or just awake with a pounding headache. Grownfolk woke up
like that when they had had too much wine the night before.

She wandered a bit, because she needed to think. She thought
about going to the house where the Gate was, since she was outside the palace
anyway, and Rahai might not stop her. But something said,
Not yet. Soon, but not yet
.

She thought of arguing, but the soon was very soon; she felt
it. She kept on walking, then, without Rahai saying anything.

He
had no
headache. He had been asleep while everybody danced and played. She felt a
little sorry for him, but not too much. Olenyai had their own games and their
own festivals, and those kept them as happy as men could be; and meanwhile he
was wide awake and pleased to be guarding her on this fine summer’s morning.

Bits of thought trickled through the protection all Olenyai
had: right-here-nowness, high clear sky with a cloud here and there, mountain
walls, air like wine chilled in snow. Shadows that were people: people-harmless,
people-who-might-harm. Those latter he watched, ready to defend if there was
need, but there never was.

They came to the palace eventually and went inside. The
guards on the gates looked blurry-eyed and headachy. Kimeri gave them a
festival gift, a touch that took the ache away. None of them knew where it came
from, but that was the way it should be.

Rahai tried to lead her straight through to where the house
was, but she was not ready to go there yet. Vanyi was there, just about to wake
up. Her mother was just coming in, thinking about Bundur and not knowing she
was doing it, nor wanting to if she had known. She was all in a tangle about
him, wanting and not wanting, being part of him and not wanting to be a part of
him at all.

Maybe she would marry him, Kimeri thought. She had never
been like this about a man before, especially one who wanted to marry her. If
she liked a man, she bedded him; if not, she told him to lose himself, and shut
the door in his face. Kimeri had never seen her in such a confusion of
wanting-not-wanting.

She did not want Kimeri to see her that way, either. Kimeri
got out of her mind before she noticed the intruder, and went looking for
somewhere to go that would not get in Daruya’s way.

oOo

The palace children were still asleep, like Hani, or being
fussed over by their parents or their aunts or their cousins. Servants were up
and working, but none of them would speak to Kimeri unless she spoke first, and
they certainly would not play with her.

But there was someone who might be glad to see her. Whom she
felt she might talk to, and maybe, finally, be listened to.

That someone was awake and had no headache, and was mildly
bored herself. She was in the room she had told Kimeri to come to, reading a
book she had read too many times before, and thinking about too many things at
once. How Hani could be afraid of her, Kimeri could not imagine. Even if she
was the queen.

She thought Kimeri did not know. She still thought it when
Kimeri slipped through the back door, the one that was not supposed to open on
anything at all, and Kimeri did not like to tell her she was wrong. She might
be insulted.

She smiled, not knowing what Kimeri was thinking, and Kimeri
was glad of that. “Good morning, child,” she said. “Good morning, shadow-man.”

Rahai bowed. He did not understand Borti’s language, since
he had no magery to teach it to him, but he could tell when he was being spoken
to. He was wary, his eyes watching everything at once.

Kimeri tried to tell him silently that he had nothing to be
afraid of, but his protections kept him from hearing mage-words. He stayed
close, on guard.

Kimeri ignored him. Borti, studying her, did the same. “Good
morning,” said Kimeri. “Did you have a good festival?”

Borti’s smile stayed the same, but the thoughts in the front
of her mind were full of sad things: a fight with a man who must be the king, a
great number of people smiling but looking as if they had fangs, fear she could
not put a name to. Kimeri tried not to listen, but when a person thought so
loudly, it was very hard to shut one’s ears inside.

Borti’s thoughts were deeply troubling, but aloud she said, “I
had a pleasant festival, I suppose. And you?”

“Very pleasant,” Kimeri said more honestly than Borti had. “My
friend is my friend again—you know, the boy who ran away. He’s a coward, but I
can forgive him that. He’s only a boy.”

“Wisely said,” said Borti. She reached for the box on the
table next to her and opened it. A great odor of sweetness and spices wafted
out. “These were a festival gift. Would you like to share them with me?”

Rahai slipped in before Kimeri could, and tasted one. Kimeri
frowned at his rudeness, but Borti seemed to understand, and even to approve.

After an endless while he got out of the way and let Kimeri
sit down and try the sweets. They were odd but wonderful, like Shurakan.

“You didn’t have a shadow-man before,” Borti said. “Did your
mother give him to you for the festival?”

“Oh, he’s not a slave,” said Kimeri quickly. Rahai could
hardly be insulted, since he did not speak Borti’s language, but she did not
want Borti to think the wrong thing, either. “He’s a bred-warrior. He serves
the emperor, and my mother since she’ll be empress someday, and me since I’ll
be empress after her. He thinks we all need guarding.”

“You didn’t before?”

“I slipped away then,” Kimeri confessed. “This time I didn’t.
Everyone’s getting more afraid instead of less, the longer we stay here.”

“Do you know why that is?” Borti asked.

She did want to know, not the why, but whether Kimeri knew
it. Kimeri supposed she should be clever and pretend not to know, but she hated
to tell lies. “Because we have enemies, and they hate us. They’re going to do
something soon, aren’t they?”

“They might,” Borti said, meaning they would.

“Something like breaking the Gate,” Kimeri said. “That’s
what they did before.”

“Gate?” asked Borti. “Which Gate is that?”

She was testing again. Kimeri hated it when people played
the testing game, but she decided not to get angry yet. “The Worldgate, the
Gate the mages made. Mage is a dirty word here, isn’t it?”

“Some people think so,” Borti said. Thinking louder than
ever: that it was foolish, but who knew what mages really were, or what they
could do? Except raise their Gates.