Sword and Verse (15 page)

Gyotia lowered his hand. “Very well,” he said to Sotia. “You may give the language of the gods to the leaders of the valley people only.” His lip curled as if he knew that this stipulation would hurt her far more than another blow.

Sotia struggled to her feet and walked down the mountain, her heart as heavy as the stone tablet in her hands.

“THE KING LIVES,
but just barely.” Laiyonea sat down heavily next to me in the sitting room, where she had sent me after we'd been turned away from the king's chamber an hour before. Laiyonea had been so pale that I hadn't wanted to leave her, but she'd insisted on staying by herself to argue with the guards.

“Did you see him?” I asked timidly. I couldn't shake the memory of King Tyno's prostrate form, the hole in his chest. Or of Mati's face, terrified but determined. I ached to be near Mati, to take his hand and offer what comfort I could.

Laiyonea shook her head. A tendril of black hair had come loose from its knot and lay curled against her neck. “Mati won't let anyone in. The doctor sent me word.”

I laid my hand over hers on the armrest. “What happened?” I whispered.

“Gored by an eland. The gash goes clean through—” Laiyonea
broke off. I squeezed her hand. She took a deep breath. “Rale is preparing for Mati's coronation, likely within the next few days.”

I blinked, thrown off by the seeming change of subject, but then I realized what she was saying. King Tyno would die, soon, and Mati would become king.

Laiyonea eyed me critically. “Change your dress. Burn that one.”

I looked down at the streaks of dried brown blood—the king's blood—across the front of my dress. I nodded and stumbled to my room to change. At the threshold I turned back to see Laiyonea sagging wearily in the chair with her eyes closed.

Later that evening, Mati sent for Laiyonea. Soon after she left, the palace bells began tolling. They continued for a solid hour, announcing King Tyno's death. Laiyonea told me later that Mati had refused to allow anyone except the doctor and his assistants into the chamber, and had only called for Laiyonea when the king had asked for her at the end. Laiyonea wouldn't say anything else, but I knew that her sharpness with me hid her grief.

I lay awake half the night, yearning to go to Mati. Twice I even crept to the doorway, intending to do so, but Laiyonea was sitting up in her room, and ordered me back to bed. The second time she pointedly left the door between our rooms standing wide open.

Mati's relationship with King Tyno hadn't been warm—how often had he told me of his father berating him for being soft and foolish? The king hadn't understood Mati at all. But still—I knew the pain of losing a father.

Mati would be crowned king the following day. What must he be thinking?

Unbidden, his words came back to me.
“When I'm king, I can do whatever I want.”

Could he? Could he refuse to marry Soraya?

I turned on my side, chiding myself. Mati's father had just died. This wasn't about what I wanted.

Then I sat straight up in bed as another memory came back to me. Mati, lying on the couch in the Library after I'd told him about my childhood.
“I wish I could just . . . just free all the Arnathim,”
he'd said.
“I don't know if it's possible. But I'll try. And I promise, Raisa—no more raids on the Nath Tarin, ever.”

Would he—could he—keep that promise? Even now, after I'd turned him away?

The next day dawned bright and clear, but the mood in our carriage was somber as we clattered through the streets. Mati rode at the front of the procession with his father's body. I had caught a glimpse of him in his purple tunic as we had climbed into our carriage, but I hadn't seen his face.

Laiyonea had kept me close all morning; I knew she suspected that I would go to Mati the first chance I got. And she was right. All that had happened between us no longer mattered. Mati was hurting; I had to go to him.

The carriages let us out at the Valley of Tombs, and we processed silently between rows of livery-clad guards to the open space before the Royal Tomb. The long, low structure had been built right into the side of the mountain, and held the remains of
every member of the royal family for twenty generations, but was so large that it would hold twenty generations more.

Laiyonea remained dry-eyed through the funeral. I stood beside her, sweating under the glaring sun, as Penta Rale recounted the life of King Tyno in a singsong voice, and ten tall Scholars carried the king's body into the tomb. Priests from all the temples chanted incantations over the door, then Mati said the final words to send his father's spirit on to the afterlife. Mati pushed the door closed; stone met stone with a dull thud.

The mood shifted. Penta Rale stepped forward and held up the crown. I let his droning voice fade into the background as I studied Mati. Something in his face had changed. I couldn't identify exactly what, but I realized that I didn't know him anymore. For almost a year I'd been longing for the boy I had known, but the man before me wasn't that boy any longer. He was a king now.

He had turned to me in panic yesterday in the courtyard, but that was all it had been—panic. I had let those few moments of false closeness lead me into foolish dreams that something might change, that he needed me.

Penta Rale lowered the crown onto Mati's head. Mati stepped forward, and the assembled people cheered. Mati lifted his hands to quiet them.

“My father died a heroic death,” he said, the hollow echo of his voice bouncing off the walls of the surrounding tombs. “The eland that gored him had leaped at me. He jumped into its path and sacrificed himself to save me. That is how he must be remembered, from now until the gods read out the scrolls.” Mati's face was blank, his voice even. My heart lurched at the thought of
Mati in the beast's path, and I thanked all the gods that he stood safe before me now. Even if he hadn't acknowledged me since the day before, in the carriage.

The crowd was still. Rumors had circulated about the king's death, but this was new information.

“I am not my father,” said Mati. “But I will try to be a just ruler for Qilara and its people.” He looked around, his eyes lighting on me for the barest second. “Some have suggested that I move my wedding up in light of my father's untimely death. However, my father chose First Shining because of its sacredness to Gyotia. The wedding will go on as planned. We welcome this union with the house of Gamo.” Mati nodded first at Soraya, then at her father beside her. Del Gamo bowed.

I lowered my head, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat. Had I really thought anything would change? And those things he had said to me in the Library . . . why would he free the Arnathim? Why would any Qilarite care to?

“Long live Qilara,” said Mati, and then he stepped back abruptly and led the procession out. I trailed Laiyonea and watched dully as Mati helped Soraya into the carriage in front of us. He smiled at her, and I could no longer tell whether it was a true smile or not.

A Shining and a Veiling passed. In the corridors, scribes complained about adjusting to the new dating system, arguing about whether the new era began on the day of King Tyno's death or the day of King Mati's coronation. I wondered why Mati didn't just silence the matter with a decree. Perhaps he wanted to give them
something trivial to argue about, to keep them out of trouble.

I was back to spending long days in the Adytum, now that Laiyonea no longer worked with Mati. He was far too busy, she said, and anyway she couldn't teach him anything more to help him. She seemed to feel sorry for Mati; when I saw how tired he looked, I could not help feeling the same. He hadn't been ready to become king. The Scholars Council seemed to see that too, especially when Asuniaka fell to Emtiria ten days after the coronation. The murmurs at banquets grew less guarded, less respectful, and I grew annoyed on Mati's behalf even as I told myself that the whole matter had nothing to do with me.

“You really can't put it off any longer,” said Laiyonea one morning as I took my seat in the Adytum.

I didn't have to ask what she meant. Mati's wedding would take place in sixty-two days—I wished I didn't know that number so exactly, but it had become a daily countdown I couldn't ignore. And I hadn't done a thing to find girls for the Selection.

Laiyonea had told me that, in days past, Scholar families had raised young Arnath girls to take part in the Selection, sometimes even doing away with their parents to meet the orphan requirement. The resulting patronage battles had nearly destroyed the council more than once, so now it was up to the Tutors to find girls with no ties whatsoever and submit them for the king's approval.

It was a responsibility I definitely didn't want.

“I'll work on it,” I said, playing with my quill.

Laiyonea sighed. “This wedding is going to happen, Raisa.”

“I know that.”

“So stop feeling sorry for yourself and do what you must.”

“Fine,” I snapped. “I'll go to the market, like you said.”

Laiyonea gave me a stern look, but let my tone pass without comment. “Very well,” she said. “I'll talk to the king and get it approved.”

It took me a moment to realize that “the king” meant Mati.

Sotia appeared to Belic, the leader of the valley people, and showed him the wondrous tablet that held all writing. “How will you use this gift?” she asked.

Belic bowed low. “I shall keep this gift holy and precious, and only the noblest of birth shall learn its secrets.”

THE WEDDING PLANS
went on, despite the interruptions in trade stemming from Emtiria's army pushing south from Asuniaka and clashing with the king's South Company. Linens and decorations arrived daily after being diverted through other trade routes.

An entire house on the harbor had been set aside for the creation of the future queen's wardrobe. Scholars from all over the city sent slave women there to assist with sewing, but Soraya seemed more interested in sitting in on council meetings than trying on dresses. I heard two servants in the baths speculating on her ambitions one day as they waited for me and Laiyonea to finish. I ducked my head underwater and tried to ignore them.

I had thought that, with the battles in the south and the focus on the wedding, the Festival of Aqil at Thirteenth Shining might be muted, but it was just as lavish as ever, as though Mati were trying to prove something to the Scholars. The entire court attended
the pantomime; Mati sat in the front row, where his father had once dispassionately observed him in the part of Aqil. I rarely saw Mati these days except at functions like this. I suspected that he was avoiding me as much as I had been avoiding him.

I looked away from Soraya, who was leaning over to whisper something in Mati's ear, and focused on the pantomime. Had it really been only two years since I stood on that stage? Now all the players seemed childlike to me. I had to look away when Aqil threw the tiny girl playing Sotia to the ground. I caught a glimpse of green in my peripheral vision, and turned to see Jonis standing beyond the guards. He'd obviously been waiting for me to look in his direction. He raised his eyebrows meaningfully, then turned and disappeared into the crowd.

I had long since stopped looking for the Resistance to contact me; indeed, no rumor of their actions had reached my ears since well before King Tyno's death, and I had resigned myself to the idea that I had helped them all I could. Now my pulse quickened with dread and wild curiosity.

I tugged Laiyonea's sleeve. “I need to use the toilet,” I whispered.

“Not now,” she mouthed back impatiently.

“I can't wait,” I whispered a little more loudly. I held her gaze, and finally she leaned over and spoke to the nearest guard. He led me through the crowd and into the temple, then pointed me toward the toilets and took up a position at the bottom of the stairs.

The toilet room was long and narrow, with stone benches lining the sides, rows of holes cut out for sitting on. The smell was
not as foul as it might have been; the pipes below had probably been cleaned out before the festival. I perched on a solid corner of bench and wondered how Jonis would get past the guard.

I didn't wait long before a figure appeared in the doorway—but it was Kiti, not Jonis.

“We need you to destroy another record,” he whispered without preamble.

“I'm being spoken to again, am I?” I said.

“Shh! Don't be stupid. We had something going on. We stayed away to keep you out of it.” Kiti peered at me, an unfamiliar hardness in his eyes. “You're in the most danger of getting caught—we're only coming to you when there isn't any other way. This one's important.”

I sighed. “All right, what is it?”

Kiti smiled. “A shipment in four days. Grain and some other supplies . . . we need food for those children, and we've freed more, so it's a big group. . . .”

I nodded. “Four days. All right. Do you know anything else?”

“It's coming through the mountain pass. If we can attack on the valley side and you destroy the records, we might get the whole thing.”

I paused. If the entire shipment were to disappear, that meant that the men transporting it would disappear as well. Would the Resistance give those men a chance to join them, or simply ambush them? And should I even be worrying about that, if it meant keeping those children alive?

“I'll do it at first light tomorrow,” I said.

Kiti took both my hands and pulled me up from the bench.
“I knew we could count on you. Thank you.” He leaned forward and kissed my cheek, but I thought I saw something troubled in his face. I didn't get a chance to ask about it though, because the next moment he was gone.

By the time I got back outside, I'd missed the rest of the pantomime. Laiyonea was cross, but I pretended to have an upset stomach, and she calmed down. It even gave me an excuse to leave the banquet early that night, and I lay in bed planning my next venture into the scribe rooms.

It was gratifying to know that Kiti and Jonis had been ignoring me for good reason—not because I was useless. I wondered what Kiti had meant by “something going on,” and then I remembered—the guard captain had killed some of the Resistance a few Shinings back, and then the rumors of rebellion had stopped. Maybe the Resistance had foundered—not a comforting thought. But Kiti had seemed confident, not like a member of a failing movement at all.

I was so anxious that I almost decided to go in the middle of the night, but I remembered how long it had taken me to find the document I needed last time, working by the light of a single flame.

And then, an insane thought:
I could burn all the records.

But destroying the Trade Ministry, even if I dared, might bring more scrutiny to the fragile Resistance. And it wouldn't change the cruelty of men like Horel Stit. Most slaves weren't bound by chains or guarded constantly. They were like the asotis in the Adytum, caged by fear—fear of what would happen to them or their families if they ran. I thought of Ris ko Karmik's
insistence on severing all ties with his wife and child before helping the Resistance. I thought of Kiti with his newly hardened eyes. And I thought of Jonis, eschewing every chance to run, staying instead to make the Resistance work.

I should be doing more,
I told myself. Jonis was right—I'd had an easy life as Tutor, so easy that I'd almost forgotten that I was a child of the islands.

These thoughts gave me new purpose as I crept along the corridor toward the scribe rooms the next morning. I imagined the conversation I would have with Jonis when next I saw him. I would tell him that I was ready to do more to help the Resistance, that I would even follow in Tyasha ke Demit's footsteps and teach them the language of the gods.

Then I turned the corner and tripped over the guard setting mousetraps in the hallway.