The Obsidian Temple (11 page)

“I don't know, exactly. He has a part, but I do not see it as one of the Guardians,” Clay said thoughtfully. “He is in my visions. But he is not among the Chosen.”

Grandmother thought on that a moment. “But she'll still need to keep herself open for her Guardian. I know from Palou what a personal relationship that has to be. We don't know yet when he or she will arrive.”

“He is already here. You, as a Shuttle already bonded with your Guardian, should have recognized him for what he is.” Clay looked over at Ashraf, who raised his eyebrows in surprise.

Sulis felt her heart beat strangely in her chest as Ashraf looked over at her. Sulis told herself it was just relief she was feeling. Relief that she finally understood having this much attraction to someone she hardly knew. It wasn't love or even lust. It was just a bond between two with the same purpose and destiny.

“If he's it,” Grandmother scoffed, “then why can't she control anything with him around? Guardians are supposed to enhance control, not take it away.”

“Sulis does not control the energy because she can't,” Clay said patiently. “That's why I didn't ask her to. She is Fire, her energy wild but rising, expanding, drawing fountains of wild energy for the Weaver to work through her cloth. Sulis will dance beautiful patterns with our Earth element Ava. Anchee, as Wood, will send the energy to everyone in the weave, and your Water will funnel it back to the Weaver, who, as Metal, will weave back together what was once whole. Sulis's Guardian must also be Fire to enhance that energy, and her twin is not.

Clay shook his head and chuckled. “You are not a teacher, Joisha. How many times have I told you this? Yet still you meddle and expect everyone around you to be immediately perfect. You are leader, you inspire from a distance. Leave the teaching to masters like Anchee, ­people with patience and humility. And more importantly, leave your granddaughter alone! You let your relationship with her mother color your reactions toward her. Until you gain nonattachment and can see Sulis as Sulis, and not as Iamar, do not speak to her about the dances, do not criticize her, and do not glare at her the way you are glaring at me. Understood?”

Grandmother frowned at Clay, and he exaggeratedly scrunched his face up and frowned back. She started chuckling.

“Fine,” she said ruefully. “I suppose I should know better by now. I hate teaching beginners. But it isn't an easy habit to break.”

Clay grinned. “Meddling never is. Now go fetch me the warrior's master so I can rearrange Ashraf's and Palou's lives. You already know everything I'm about to teach, and I don't need you fidgeting.”

Clay did not watch Grandmother leave. He glanced over at Ashraf and the other warrior.

“Ashraf will be with us most days. We will also have Palou, Joisha's Guardian, join us. They will still be taking their physical training with the warriors, but all other trainings and meals will be taken with us.”

Clay turned back to the group. “We will begin to work together from now on. Sulis and Ava will work on patterns in the main hall in the mornings. You three Chosen will begin to understand each other's energy in the afternoons.”

“And what will Ashraf do?” Ava asked the question Sulis bit back.

“Ashraf will begin to get used to his Shuttle's energies,” Clay said. He grinned and winked at Sulis. “And Sulis will stop treating her Guardian like an unwanted and unnecessary pest.”

Clay addressed Ashraf. “I want you to go to Sulis's training with Master Tull and let her know you are the Guardian for this Shuttle. She will begin training the two of you how to work together as a team. Once this core group is working together, you will learn how to enhance Sulis's energy.”

He looked seriously at Sulis. “But to do so, you need to surrender your reluctance to be near him. You need to get to know him as another person and become friends.”

“Friends I can handle,” Sulis muttered, glancing over at Ashraf.

“Then friends is where we will start,” Ashraf said softly. “And I'll try not to ask for more.”

“But what about me?” Ava asked. “And Master Anchee? Where are our Guardians? Will we have time to bond with them?”

Clay shook his head. “I only know when something is in front of me,” he said, his tone a little frustrated, “or what I have seen in my dreams. I have to trust that if your Guardians have not appeared, they will at the right time. Perhaps you are not so hardheaded and untrusting as Sulis is, so you won't need as much time to bond.” The last was said with affection as he reached out and ruffled Sulis's hair.

“Gee, thanks,” Sulis said dryly.

“Anytime,” Clay said. He grasped her hands and drew her to her feet. “Now, you and Master Anchee will dance your forms. You will see, they will mirror each other.”

“I don't understand why you call it a dance,” Ava said, wrinkling her nose. “It isn't like any dancing I've ever seen. It's too precise.”

“It's a weapon's dance,” Ashraf interrupted. “It isn't like social dancing. It's similar to the sword dances we warriors practice to hone our footwork and thrusts.”

Clay nodded approvingly. “The weapon is the energy you raise with the poses; the weaving of those energies is what makes the dance beautiful. Now Sulis and Anchee, stand thusly.”

He stood Sulis and Anchee facing each other, just a few feet separating them.

“There isn't enough room,” Anchee said. “We will trip over each other.”

Clay nodded. “And possibly knock each other over. But this is about how much space you will have in the Obsidian Temple. And you will add Joisha and the Weaver to the mix, so it will become even more crowded. You've learned to do the dances in your sleep. Now you need to be awake enough to do the dance while being aware of another in your space and modify your steps accordingly.”

He and Ava stepped to the side as Anchee and Sulis stared at each other.

Anchee grinned at Sulis. “I've never done this with a partner,” he said. “We'll have to adjust the speed of our flow to keep in step with each other.”

Sulis nodded. Anchee stepped into his Warrior pose, and Sulis did the same.

“We'll try not to laugh if you fall,” Clay offered, and they both turned their heads to glare at him. He grinned. “Or at least, we won't laugh too loudly.”

By the time they finished, Sulis's body was slick with sweat, and she shook droplets off her hair. Her eyes stung with the salt that had gotten into them. She and Anchee had never managed to knock each other over, but it had thrown her having someone facing her and doing the moves as though with a mirror image. She'd forgotten the flow three times, and Clay had ordered them to stop and restart. She would have felt bad, but Anchee had forgotten once and he'd been practicing his flow for decades. He was nursing a scratch on his cheek where Sulis's outflung arm caught him, and they both had lumps on their forehead from being too close coming into a bow and prostration.

“Excellent,” Clay said quietly. Behind him, Ashraf grinned in approval, and Sulis found herself grinning back.

“Well, the head smacking was pretty funny,” Ava added. “But I thought it was beautiful when the two of you were moving together like that. Well, in a gawky, just-­getting-­going sort of way. Like a newborn foal getting to its feet.”

Anchee ruffled her hair, and she ducked away.

“Ick, you two are sweaty,” Ava said, wrinkling her nose. “I don't know how Grandmother Hasifel will fit between the two with her dance. They'll run into each other constantly.”

“She won't,” Clay said. “Her dance is around the two, unifying them.”

“It is a spinning dance,” Anchee added. “Very fluid. It looks nothing like ours, and is wild and uncontrolled.”

“She will learn to control it with two others to mind. Or her whirling will be like a sandstorm, taking everyone down in her path,” Clay chuckled, obviously enjoying the image. He raised his head suddenly. “Dinner. Smells like steaks. The warriors must have had a good hunt.” He turned and started off to the eating hall.

Ava shook her head. “For someone so scrawny, he sure likes to eat.”

Anchee nodded. “I think for much of his young life he never had enough. Now he appreciates every bite. Watch him eat; he makes a meditation out of it.”

“I'm heading to the bathhouses first,” Sulis said. “I'll meet you there.”

When she entered the eating hall, Sulis hesitated, then sat beside Ashraf. She suddenly found herself tongue-­tied, which was silly because she'd seen the man every day for the past few months. Or at least, she'd been pushing him away with sharp retorts and sarcastic comments that entire time.

He seemed to sense her reticence and passed her the bread without comment, making certain she had sea salt in front of her and fetching her a glass of water. Sulis realized he'd been doing that the entire time they'd been at Kabandha, but she had pushed away those kind gestures as well. Anything she could do not to seem soft in front of her teachers.

Sulis glanced around for her grandmother and found her at a different table. She was resting her white head on the shoulder of her Guardian, Palou. Grandmother had introduced Sulis to Palou the first month they'd arrived. She had seen Grandmother with him from time to time but never this intimate. Sulis was surprised to see a
feli's
head sticking out from under the table, its chin leaning against Palou's thigh. At first she thought it was Djinn, but then she realized the head was spotted like the wild felines. The man palmed the
feli
some meat, and it slipped back under the table.

Clay was watching Sulis when she turned her attention back.

“Grandmother's Guardian has a
feli
?” Sulis asked.

Clay nodded. “I have seen that all the Chosen Guardian pairs have at least one
feli
between them,” he confirmed. “Palou there attracts wild
feli
, much like I'm told you used to. This female has chosen to stay with him.”

“Female?” Sulis asked, and looked around for Djinn. She realized that two tails snaked out from under the table, and one was not spotted. “That's where he's been spending his time. I thought it was with Ashraf.”

“He has spent some time with me,” Ashraf said. “But since she went into heat, he's spent much more time with her.”

“Into heat?” Sulis asked, wondering how she could have missed all this. She'd have to find a moment to speak to Palou about their
feli
. “So she is carrying his kits?”

Clay's eyes sparkled. “See what happens when you are off feeling sorry for yourself?” he teased. “Your
feli
gets mated while you miss out on the mate right in front of you.”

Sulis blushed, having forgotten how forward Clay could be. She was unable to look at Ashraf, whose low laugh rumbled beside her.

“I didn't see it either,” Ava confirmed. “It's not like
feli
are known for their faithfulness or anything.”

“He seems pretty smitten,” Ashraf confirmed. “More than a typical
feli
. Of course, I see more of the two of them together since Palou is in the dorms with me, and his
feli
likes to stay with him.”

“Will the kittens be friendlier than the wild ones?” Ava asked hopefully.

“It depends on how wild the mother is,” Sulis said. “Maybe it's the human bond that makes the Temple
feli
atypical. You'd like a
feli
of your own, wouldn't you?”

“If the One wishes me to have one,” Ava said wistfully. “It may not be in her plans for me.”

They all looked over at Clay, who widened his eyes. “Don't look at me! All I get are fragments of dreams, teaching lessons. Perhaps Ava ends up with a
feli
, but it isn't important to teaching you, so I won't see it. Perhaps you are counting kits before they are born. Don't look to this old man to decide your future. That is in your hands.” He grinned. “Mostly. And the One's.”

 

Chapter 11

K
ADAR
PUSHED HIMSELF
off the bed, rubbing his temples. He no longer got fierce headaches after speaking with Sulis, but he still couldn't communicate long without losing the thread. It had been a month after he had first contacted her, and their conversations had only lengthened by a candlemark.

It seemed like things were going well for her and the rest of the group in the desert, although Ashraf had to be completely frustrated at this point, as Sulis insisted that the two of them were “just friends” and nothing else. Kadar did not point out to her the frustrated longing he felt in her mindvoice.

A familiar voice hastened his footsteps downstairs. He hadn't realized Uncle Aaron would make such good time coming back from his trip to Frubia. When he got to the courtyard, it seemed like a celebration was breaking out.

Aunt Raella grabbed Kadar around the waist and spun him a few wild dance steps as he laughed. He looked at Uncle Aaron for an explanation. His uncle grinned broadly.

“You are looking at four wagons of the finest Nasirof silks ever to be imported to Illian,” Uncle Aaron announced.

“You mean the only Nasirof silks ever to be imported,” Kadar corrected, shoving his cousin aside to undo the tarp and throw it back on the precious cargo.

“That also makes it the finest ever,” Uncle Tarik said in his best salesman voice. He grinned. “I've cleared the back room and we're storing these there. They're too precious to trust to the warehouse. Let's get this indoors before the neighbors start climbing the walls to see what the excitement is. We don't want anyone getting a look until we've satisfied our first-­circle customers and had a grand revealing.”

“I thought they weren't going to be ready to export for another half year,” Kadar grunted as he lifted the heavy bales and muscled them into the stockroom.

“Something lit a fire under them,” Uncle Aaron said. “When I got there, they had this shipment ready. A Vrishni, Clay, who resides in the desert, foresaw that the shipment had to be now or not at all.” He paused and wiped his brow, then looked seriously at Kadar. “And they accepted no payment on these silks. They were told the full price needed to be used for the Forsaken and for desert families in the city affected by the uprising. It seemed excessively generous—­will all those funds be needed?”

Kadar nodded, and Uncle Aaron glanced over at the rest of the celebrating family, then at him. “We'll talk later, then. The Nasirofs themselves didn't know why Clay said the One wanted them to give us the silks. They asked me, and I didn't have an answer. They were afraid to anger the One, so they sent this shipment.”

Kadar responded in a low voice. “After the next restday, everyone will know.” He said. “Uncle Tarik needs to get the silk sold to the first-­circle-­family tailors before then.”

Uncle Aaron nodded, looking grim. “We'll send the boys today, and set up appointments for tomorrow and the next few days. Once they know these fabrics are in, there will be a rush for the best patterns and colors. Let's join the celebration before anyone notices us gabbing.”

The next few days were a blur, packed with special appointments, deliveries, and visits from curious buyers who wanted a first peek at the exquisite fabrics. The tailors for the first-­circle families were invited to the Hasifel house and had private showings in the sitting room, and were plied with fine desert liqueurs.

Common ­people who came to the merchant hall trying to find the new silks were told to come back in a ten-­day for a special-­event sale. Uncle Aaron returned to the desert as soon as the mules were rested, wanting to get to Frubia and back before the summer heat prevented travel. Even Sanuri was working extra, weaving soft belts and tasseled robes to order for the higher-­end clients who wanted accessories to match the new silk colors. Kadar had no time to visit Farrah and get updates on how her brothers were doing in the new Forsaken city. They'd been among the first to go. He sent a message letting her know why he couldn't be at the final meeting of the Forsaken before they walked out of the Temple and circle households. He had nothing more to add anyway.

Some of the families of the Forsaken had trickled out of the city, hidden in the wagons of merchants and the wagons of sympathetic families passing through Illian. Kadar had advised that they wait until all the families were out before doing the walkout, but Farrah dismissed it as being overly cautious. He'd taken to heart what Farrah had told him about the city folk being likely to want revenge if the Forsaken walked out, and he wanted everyone safe before they began.

The morning after restday, Kadar and Uncle Tarik were in the salesroom at their selling hall, directing the complete redesign that Aunt Raella had planned to introduce the silks to the public for their opening event.

One of the tailors for the first circle, Mistress Afenback, a plump woman with white hair and a perpetually flushed face, sailed in and dramatically plunked herself into a soft chair they'd moved off to the side. They'd been expecting one of her delivery boys to pick up and pay for a final bolt of fabric. Having her come down by herself, and to the salesroom, was unusual, and Kadar sent his cousin into the small break room for tea and cakes while Uncle Tarik rearranged a few chairs to wait on her.

“Well, they've done it,” she declared dramatically. “You won't be getting sales from any of the circles until this whole debacle ends.” She accepted the offered drink and sipped while they looked at each other. Kadar nodded to himself.

“What's happening, Mistress?” Uncle Tarik asked, as Aunt Raella and Kadar settled around for the woman's story.

“The Forsaken have quit. My own never showed up this morning after their day off. When I sent someone threatening to fire them, I was told that they wanted double the wages! I'd be broke in a week.” She waved a hand filled with gemstone-­encrusted rings in dismissal. “I heard they've walked out all over the town. All the circle families are having to do without their maids, the trash has not been taken to the heap, no one is caring for the horses.” She leaned forward conspiratorially and spoke in a lower voice. “They've even abandoned the Temple. When the maidens came to breakfast, there was nothing prepared. They sent someone to the dormitories, and all the Forsaken were gone, vanished with their belongings. And the stable boys walked out, right in front of the riding master!” She thumped her hand on a table for emphasis.

“About the only ­people who still have their servants are you Southern folk, and the ­people crazy enough to pay the demanded wage hike. And you'd better watch because if you give in, they'll be demanding even more and running out on you as well.”

One of the cousins arrived with the packaged bolt of fabric, and Afenback waved it off. “I'm afraid that's why I came in person today. Until the Forsaken give up this insanity, I have no one to sew the fabrics I've already bought from you. Only one or two of my girls weren't Forsaken, and they aren't nearly as fast or as good as the ones I lost. If I have to pay more girls like them, I can't afford to buy expensive fabrics. And if the circle families have to hire regular ­people as help, they won't be able afford silk either.”

She heaved herself to her feet and glared around at them. “You remind your ­people of that,” she warned. “Without the Forsaken, there won't be extra to buy those fine goods you ­people import. Without our support, you won't sell goods here. Maybe you can convince the Forsaken that this whole walkout thing is madness, and you won't support it any more than the rest of us good, deity-­fearing folk do.”

She sailed out again, leaving the bolt of fabric behind. Uncle Tarik looked after her, then looked at Kadar and Aunt Raella and raised his eyebrows.

“ ‘Good, deity-­fearing folk'?” he said incredulously.

“Well, they have to warn us heathens,” Aunt Raella said dryly.

“They forget the deities were created to help us worship the One. Loving a deity shouldn't mean you can't follow the One's directive to love everyone.”

“You're selling to the salesmen, dear,” Aunt Raella reminded him, absently. “I didn't like her warning us away from helping the Forsaken, though. No one tells me who can and cannot work in my house and shop. None of the desert merchants will like it either.”

Uncle Tarik looked sharply at Kadar. “You don't seem surprised,” he observed. “I wondered why Aaron was in such an all-­fired hurry to get everything sold and insisted that it be paid for cash, instead of on credit.”

Kadar nodded. “I wasn't at the last meeting, but I was pretty certain they would walk out this week. If not today, I knew it would be soon.”

Uncle Tarik let out his breath. “We made enough to support the Forsaken for months,” he said. “If it takes that long. But I need to know what to expect. What are they walking out for? Do they have a list of things they want before they'll go back to their jobs?”

“They want wages they can live on,” Kadar said. “Then they want free movement for their families. And they want a review of the Forsaken families by all four of the deities, rescinding their casting out if it was found by the majority to be unfair, as well as new laws stating what is and is not an offence that can result in being cast out.”

Aunt Raella whistled softly. “They'll never get all that,” she said. “They'll be lucky if the deities don't arrest them and put them in prison.”

“There are too many of them to arrest,” Kadar said. “And they haven't broken any laws by not working. None of them are protected by contracts for their work, so none of them are bound in any way to their employers.”

Uncle Tarik looked seriously at Kadar and Aunt Raella. “I don't want anyone in this family going out without a guard. Kadar, you need to have Farrah come back here with her siblings to live, so we can guard her as well. All Forsaken will become targets, whether they worked for circle families or not. We might also, if the Forsaken continue to work for us while striking against the other Illians.”

“She won't come,” Kadar said sadly. He had tried, and she had refused, saying she needed to be available to all Forsaken during this time. “She still has her mother's business if she can get anyone to pay the higher costs. Her brothers have already left Illian.”

“So they got some of their families out?” Uncle Tarik asked. “Is that what you and Nabil were working on?”

“Yes,” Kadar confirmed. “There are still too many here, though. The Forsaken in the better houses of the district are with us, but the Forsaken living in the shanties and tents on the outskirts refused to trust us and wouldn't evacuate.”

Aunt Raella grimaced. “Some of those in the tents are true Forsaken,” she said. “Criminals and thieves who no one will hire. You truly wouldn't want them around the women and children.”

“But some of the supposedly ‘true' Forsaken are second-­ and third-­generation,” Kadar reminded her. “Blameless except for having a mother or father who broke the law. It isn't fair that they're treated like criminals. Many of them work for the Temple and circle families but still stay in the shanties to take care of their families. Those were the ones we were trying to relocate.”

Aunt Raella shook her head. “I still don't understand how the Temple can both condemn these folks as beneath them and use them to prepare food and clean their dwellings. If they really believe the Forsaken are evil and debased, aren't they worried about contamination?”

Uncle Tarik shook his head. “According to the Voices, the Forsaken are somehow cleansed by working at the Temple. Doing penance by good deeds.”

“They aren't paid by the Temple, except in food and board,” Kadar confirmed. “They get the cast-­offs of clothing from the acolytes that they can resew and redye. And they can take leftover food and damaged produce back home to their families. That makes it a prized job.”

A knock on the front door distracted them. Three women and a man, not much older than Kadar, stood just outside the door. They all wore brown cloaks.

Uncle Tarik gestured them in. One woman stepped forward, chin lifted, obviously the spokesperson. “Excuse us, Master Hasifel. We was told you would have a place for us.” She paused. “To work, that is. I'm a cook. These two can do any sort of household work. And John can do heavy work.”

Aunt Raella and Uncle Tarik glanced at each other. Aunt Raella nodded and stepped forward. “Yes, of course. We've just gotten a big shipment in, so we need sorters and ­people to help with the salesroom prep. And I'm sure Jess would love some help in the kitchen. I'll send you to the house with Kadar.”

Kadar smiled as he watched his aunt step forward and begin to organize the group. Uncle Tarik's face held relief. Kadar remembered his conversation with Uncle Aaron and wondered if his uncle had been afraid this would push Kadar's aunt to leave.

Aunt Raella stopped and puckered the space between her brows, thinking. She glanced at Uncle Tarik. “How about hiring a few seamstresses, and having ready-­made garments at the sale?” she asked, the shrewd business manager sensing an opportunity. “It might set us apart since Afenback told us first-­circle families will have problems getting their clothing tailored.”

Uncle Tarik cocked his head, considering. “How would we know what sizes to make without measurements?” he asked.

One of the Forsaken women stepped forward. “I know a ­couple of girls needing work who could hem on the spot if it wasn't too off size,” she offered. “They know what sizes they usually make, and if it was robes and kaftans and such, those don't need to be real close fitting.”

Aunt Raella nodded. “Good. Bring three or four you trust, and maybe another for the stables. The boys would love to have a holiday. We have a loft that two or three could sleep in if you don't have any other place.”