Spirit Gate: Book One of Crossroads (21 page)

“No more!”

It was dark, so he went to his tent and lay down on the blankets Mountain had unrolled. The temperature at night was chilly, but he wasn’t cold. Nor could he sleep. As he lay there, his legs began to stiffen up, his thighs felt as though red-hot pokers were pressing in and out to torment him; his buttocks ached and his back was so sore it hurt to shift. It was no better here than it had been in Kartu Town! With a grimace, he got to his knees and crawled to the entrance, pushing aside the
flap. The tent opened to the west. It was late. The camp was quiet, bathed by the last light of half moon, which almost touched the western horizon. Did the demons rope the moon every night, as the old stories claimed, and let it escape every morning?

Where were they going, truly? Would Captain Anji deal fairly with them? Or would he rob Shai of his money and abandon Mai in the wilderness?

Will I ever find Hari’s remains? And if I do, will I have to go back?

He heard a sound like the tickle of mice scrabbling on dirt. He leaned farther out of the tent. Cornflower had curled up to sleep on the dirt against one side of his tent, huddled there as though the canvas might give her shelter. She had pillowed her head on one arm, and her face happened to be turned toward him. Her eyes were shut. The moonlight spilled across her face, washing it so pale that he knew Captain Anji was right. She was demon’s get, no matter what the holy man had said. Obviously the holy man had been mistaken or in the pay of the merchant trying to sell her. No real person had hair that pale gold color, or eyes that blue.

At first he thought she was sleeping because she lay so quietly, but the night-veiled camp was utterly still, the only sound the footfall of a sentry’s shifting. The tickling mouse sound was her breathing, almost swallowed within her. The glitter of moonlight on her face came not from magic but from tears.

Did it matter that she wept? Slaves were like ghosts; they didn’t count as living people. They had lost their families and their honor. They had lost, and others had claimed their lives. That was the way of the world.

So Father Mei would say.

He crawled back in and lay down on his back, but still he couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t stop thinking about Cornflower, about her tears. Maybe the demons had won the skirmish after all. Maybe they had only pretended to flee, but their souls had flown into camp and brought with them the wind that sometimes spills down out of Spirit Gate to unsettle the world of the living with the sorrows of the dead.

Mai waited in silence. She heard Shai yelling; she heard the discontented muttering of the Qin soldiers as O’eki, which was his real name even though Father Mei had renamed him Mountain, returned their money. Captain Anji listened with no sign of agitation. He seemed ready to stand here all night. A servant came to stoke the fire with two dried dung patties, then retreated. Priya said nothing, but Mai heard her even breathing.

It was all gone, every part of the round of life in Kartu Town to which she had become accustomed and to which she had accustomed herself. It was dead. In a way she had passed through Spirit Gate and gained a new kind of freedom, and although she remained silent, her heart was pounding and her throat was full, her eyes brimming, her cheeks flushed. There was exhilaration, of a kind. She had made a demand, used her authority. But, oh, she feared what might come next.

Finally, as the soldiers settled down for the night and the ring of sentries paced out their places, Anji spoke to her.

“Is there anything I should know about this slave? I am troubled by the disruption she has already brought down on my troop. I wonder if those demons who attacked us came looking for her, knowing she is one of them.”

She gathered her courage. If she did not defend Cornflower, no one would. No one ever had in the Mei compound. “She’s not a demon.”

“Is she not? With that coloring? Have you seen the western demons, Mai? The ones who live in the country beyond the lands ruled by the Qin? Most of these demons are pale-haired and blue-eyed, just like her. That’s where she must have come from, out of the west.”

“If they are demons, how can they be taken as slaves?”

“They can be captured. Or, if she’s demon’s get, then her dam might be human born. Her mother might have sold her, to be rid of the shame. Where did she come from?”

“The marketplace in Kartu Town, about two years ago. My father said he bought her to appease Uncle, the one who is dead now, but he also bought her because he lusted after her himself. All the uncles did, all but Shai. Shai never touched her. Everyone suspected she poisoned my uncle, the one who is dead now. He did die horribly, so all the wives wanted to be rid of her. That, and because they were jealous of her. All of the uncles used her. Some nights they would take turns. They couldn’t keep away from her. My mother wanted her out of the house but the men couldn’t bear to let her go.”

The captain folded his arms across his chest and stared thoughtfully at the fire. “It sounds like she’s demon’s get. They have that pull on men.”

“Do demons weep when they are sad?”

“I don’t know.”

“It was cruel of my father to send her with Shai.”

“Why?”

“Because Shai never got anything he wanted but plenty he did not want. Because he’s unlucky already, being a seventh son—”

“A seventh son?” To Mai’s amazement, the captain looked startled, and his startlement gratified her strangely. Warmly. She hadn’t thought she could surprise a man like him. “Does he have the second sight? Can he see ghosts? Seventh sons can always see ghosts.”

“You must ask him yourself. I don’t own his secrets, if he has any.”

He smiled, and she realized, startled herself, that he knew she had already answered him. “The Qin don’t usually see ghosts. There aren’t many ghosts out in the ancestors’ lands. But I see them all along the Golden Road. Do you see ghosts, Mai?”

His comment and question punched all the air from her. She could only mouth the word “no,” stunned at his casual admission. Shai would never ever admit he saw ghosts. She had figured it out by herself because of certain inconsistencies that cropped up now and again when he spoke.

“It’s bad luck to see ghosts,” she murmured. “In Kartu, people who see ghosts are burned as witches or banished from town, which is the same as being burned, because you’ll die anyway.”

“It’s bad luck to see a swarm of bandits riding down on your position when they have twice as many armed men as you do, but at least you’re forewarned. Since ghosts are there, isn’t it better to be able to see them than to wish you were blind?”

“Do the Qin burn witches?”

“There are no witches among the Qin. Some among the clans have power to see into the spirit world. A few have climbed the axis of heaven and returned to tell of it.”

“What is the axis of heaven?”

“It’s the center-pole of the world. Just as in a tent.”

“I’ve never been in a tent.”

“Ah. Of course not. When we set up our wedding tent, I will show you.”

She thought of Cornflower’s silence as that Qin soldier had worked at her, hump hump hump. “When will we set up our wedding tent?”

“I went to get this,” he replied, as if he hadn’t heard her. She bit her lower lip, noticed she was doing so, and relaxed her mouth shut as he went on. Be like finest silk, Grandmother had told her, be smooth and without blemish. “Just before the demons attacked us. It’s the custom among the Qin for a man to give his bride a black banner with her clan’s sigil on it before they race.”

“Race?”

“Race, on horseback. If he can catch her, then he has earned the right to marry her. He captures her banner. I had this made.”

Mai watched as the captain unfolded cloth. He had a neat, efficient way of moving without being fussy. He was a man at home with himself, not self-conscious but not self-effacing either. Perfectly balanced.

Unfurled, the banner extended from fingertip to fingertip. It was all black silk except for a few odd silver highlights sewn into the cloth, and it took a moment for her to accustom herself to the fire’s light and by its glow see that those silver highlights depicted an eye and strands of hair. The banner was embroidered with the sigil of the Mei clan, the running wolf created in precise detail but in black, on black, so the wolf wasn’t easily seen. Such a banner couldn’t be finished overnight or in one week. Such a banner had to be planned well in advance, and even a Qin officer would pay dearly to hire a master craftsman able to complete it.

When she did not speak, could not speak, he carried on. “I have wondered why sheepherders chose the wolf as their clan sigil.”

She found all her breath caught in her lungs, and she let it all out in one gust and after that discovered she could talk, at least to answer the implied question. “Because our fortune rests on sheepherding, we bind the spirits of wolves into rings to protect our herds and make our family prosper.”

“A wise precaution. Here.” He stepped forward. “Take it, Mai. It’s our custom.”

She extended her hands, heart racing as he came closer. Once he draped the banner over her open arms he advanced no further but studied her with a serious gaze, open and clear. He really did have lovely eyes, and lashes any woman would envy.

“You are not a Qin woman, and I am not a Kartu man, so we will have to come to some accommodation.”

“We will?” Her cheeks were so hot! Yet she couldn’t stop seeing Cornflower lying there all limp, like a corpse, eyes staring sightlessly at the heavens.

His gaze held hers. She knew better than to look away or shrink back. She had a good instinct for people, honed in the marketplace. This man wanted flirting with his commerce, while this other preferred to be treated with reserve and respect; this woman wanted a friendly ear and this other a spirited and not entirely amiable disagreement over the price of windfall peaches. Captain Anji did not want a wife who cowered before him, so she would not be such a wife. He encouraged her to speak forthrightly, so she did. He hadn’t even been angry when she had scolded Shai. He was not like Father Mei at all, and maybe that was what she had feared more than anything else in the world: that she would end up married to a man just like her father.

“I married you not just because you are beautiful, as this was obvious to any man with eyes, but also because of your graceful manner and because you observe beyond the surface of things. And because you overcharged me for those almonds.”

She flushed.

He smiled. “Since my first wife is now dead, I could suit myself with my second marriage. However, the last thing I promised my mother, fifteen years ago, is that I would take no woman into my bed unless she possessed the rights given to Qin women upon marriage to a man of the Qin. I promised I would treat no woman as my father treated her. For although they were married according to the laws of his land, she had no more rights than a slave concubine. This banner is my promise to you. When you fly that banner, then I will know that I am welcome in the marriage bed. I will not force myself on you, and I do not expect you to invite me until you are ready.”

He flicked a lock of hair away from one eye, and walked away out of the fire’s ring of light. A shadow met him; Mai recognized Chief Tuvi’s stocky form and sharp gestures. They vanished into the night, heading toward the sentry lines.

Mai stared after him, mouth aflop like that of a fish tossed out of water. He had known market prices! She didn’t know whether to laugh or to berate herself for foolishness. She had been complimented many times, even for her skill at bargaining, but no man had ever complimented her for seeing “beyond the surface of things.” It was one of the ways she had kept up her garden of tranquillity. By learning to see beyond the moods and day-to-day comments of her customers and of her family, she had discovered that most of the anger or envy or sorrow or pain we bleed onto ourselves is just a wound cut into our own selves. The blood of another that splashes onto you can be washed off. You only suffer, as Priya would say, when your own injuries hurt you.

“He is not what I expected,” said Priya softly.

“What did you expect?”

“Women are like silk. The finest cloth is reserved for the noblest man.”

“Or for the Merciful One and Her avatars and temples.”

“How soon will you invite him into the marriage bed, Mistress?”

“Do you think he meant what he said? That I could choose the time?”

“I don’t know. Yet why else would he speak so? He can have you when he wants. It is clear he desires you.”

“Does he?”

Priya laughed, a liberty she took only with Mai, certainly never with any of the aunts. “You are wise but innocent, Mistress. He feels a strong desire toward you. I don’t know why he does not take what is now his to possess. Most men would. Perhaps like us he follows the teachings of the Merciful One and understands it is better not to let his desires overmaster him.”

“There was no other reason for him to marry me but desire. The Mei clan is not an important one. We have no particular wealth. We bring him no advantage even if he weren’t Qin, but he is, so an alliance with Father Mei brings him nothing at all. He said so himself.”

“Why do you fret so, Mistress?”

“I fret because I don’t know where we’re going, or what will happen when we get there.”

“It is out of your hands, Mistress. He has given you the banner. Do not wait too long. But do not offer him what he desires too quickly, either.”

“Why must each choice be weighed as in a game of spirals? Is there no honesty to be had between men and women?”

“Honesty is a pearl, Mistress: rare and precious. Walk this path cautiously.”

“Do you remember that song about the bandit prince and the gold merchant’s daughter?” She sang the refrain. “ ‘Your eyes speak to me of love, but I remain silent. It may be I am in love, but how can I know?’ ” The words always made her cry. She wiped her eyes, wondering how foolish she looked. “I just want to be happy, Priya.”

But when Mai looked into her face, she thought Priya looked sad, and even a trifle anxious.

The slave rested a hand on Mai’s shoulder. “Be careful, Mistress. The gods may hear your wish and grant it.”