The Quartered Sea (35 page)

He snatched his fingers back.

The xaan stared at him for a moment, her expression of disbelief becoming annoyance. "Here and now suddenly seems like a good idea." Calling to the caravan master, she had the wagon stopped. "Get down and pull, Hueru."

His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.

"Now."

Benedikt had no idea why Hueru had suddenly been put to one of the poles at the front of the xaan's wagon. He didn't go willingly, that much was certain.
I bet his mother never warned him about his face freezing like that. Serves him right, the arrogant shit
.

At first, he thought the delay in moving forward again had to do with Hueru—who was definitely enjoying his new position much less than the men and women around him were—but then he saw an older man shaking his head and singlehandedly trying to back the entire wagon away from the divided flood. His eyes were so wide they showed white all the way around, and his cry of inarticulate terror rose up in counterpoint to the Song. Too far away for Benedikt to try figuring out the complex pattern of his tattoo, the single braid and sawrap gave no clue to the old man's occupation in camp.

No one had ever been afraid of what he did before. The realization that someone feared him, created an interesting and not entirely unpleasant sensation.

The old man's fear had begun to affect those around him by the time the caravan master got to his side. With most of his attention on holding the water, Benedikt couldn't quite make out the shouted exchange of words. Finally, the caravan master pried the old man's fingers from his crosspiece and dragged him bodily away from the wagons.

"Give him to Javez and Intega," the xaan called down from the wagon top. "Tell my cousins you speak with the mouth of the xaan. They're not to hurt him, but they're to see that he continues traveling with us. I'll deal with him later."

* * *

When the wagon finally got moving again, Benedikt glanced up at the xaan and found her not quite as awestruck as he might have hoped.

"Our young singer is wiser than he looks," Xaan Mijandra acknowledged, stroking the dog nestled into the curve of her arm. "See how he stands halfway across the parted flood? If he'd sent us on ahead, I'd have suspected a trap. If he'd gone through before us, reaching the other side before we began to move, again, I'd have suspected a trap. By standing there, in the middle, he knows that I know he can't release the flood without drowning himself and, if I can't trust him not to kill me, I can at least trust him not to kill himself." She nodded slowly. "Easily manipulated doesn't always mean stupid."

The priest glanced nervously from side to side and finally focused on the backs of her hands and her crescent-moon tattoos. "Hueru is Benedikt's enemy now, peerless one."

"So?"

The guards passed him, eyes front—the only indication of their emotional state the white-knuckled grips around the shafts of their spears. As they drew even with him, both lines swerved a half step away. Fear or caution, Benedikt didn't know, but he liked the feeling of power it gave him.

As though aware of his scrutiny and the thought that went with it, the closest guard turned his head a fraction of an inch toward him, lip curled.
I don't like this
, his expression said,
but I'm not afraid of you
.

All but two of those pulling the xaan's wagon kept their gazes locked on their footing. All but two…

The first stood at the second crosspiece on the near side. As he passed, he looked up and Benedikt clearly saw him mouth the name of the sun god, Tulpayotee. Suddenly realizing his hood lay on his shoulders, Benedikt grabbed it with both hands and yanked it back up over his hair.

Not everyone had seen him. With any luck, he hadn't completely alienated the high priest—who fortunately had considerably less influence on Xaan Mijandra than Ooman Xhai had on Tul Altun.

The second gaze he encountered belonged to Hueru.
What's he so mad at me for? It's not my fault he's pulling the wagon
.

As the xaan passed, he thought of asking the kigh to rise and acknowledge her presence but, without knowing how long it would take for the entire caravan to reach the other side of the flood, decided not to risk it. The odds were good he'd be Singing for some time, and loss of control would impress no one.

"I can't make out any words, but it's a pretty song," the xaan noted thoughtfully as the wagon creaked into the lowest point of the crossing and began to climb the low hill on the other side. "I wonder if the power's in the song or the one who sings it?"

Her hands scrubbing around and around so that the fingers of one continually stroked over the tattoo on the other, Yayan Quanez kept her gaze locked on the narrow wooden planks beneath her. "Does it matter, peerless one?" The question quavered slightly.

"Of course it matters, Yayan. If the power is in the song, he can teach it to others. If the power is in the singer and that singer is mine…" Her voice trailed off, touching four or five possibilities as it went.

The coloas seemed intrigued by Benedikt's Song. Everyone of them swiveled a ludicrously small head toward him and gave him a supercilious look of approval as they passed. Most of the people accompanying them kept their eyes locked on the back of the xaan's wagon although two of her cooks continued plucking chickens as they walked, oblivious to
where
they walked.

The second and third wagons had no choice but to follow the xaan down between the walls of water, terror of the known far outweighing that of the unknown.

* * *

"It seems I underestimated you, Benedikt." She saw that the admission pleased him. Good. It was supposed to. "The waves do indeed obey you. Although saying that water obeys you would be more accurate, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, peerless one."

There had been a freehold not far past the flood and the xaan had decided to camp one more night rather than arrive at Atixlan after dark with her people still openmouthed at the impossible. By morning, they'd know what she wanted them to think.

When Benedikt had rejoined her on the wagon, she'd said only, "Thank you. We'll talk later," before closing her eyes and leaning back against her cushions. She'd almost been able to hear him wondering why they weren't talking now and had known the moment she'd reopened her eyes at the freehold that he'd convinced himself she'd been too overwhelmed to find the words for an immediate reaction.

"I hear also that the waves obey you."

" Yes, peerless one."

She'd known at the time he'd been telling the truth but had no intention of admitting, in front of everyone, that she didn't know what that truth implied. He was a stranger; who knew what strangers could do?

"You saved me a great deal of inconvenience this afternoon, Benedikt. The rain could have kept us out of Atixlan for days."

"I'm glad I could help, peerless one."

He was, too. He reminded her a little of Shecquai as a puppy. "Tell your barber tomorrow that you speak with the mouth of the xaan. You're to have eight braids."

A brow rose. Clearly the thought that she believed removing the water from the causeway had taxed his abilities upset him. "Are you telling me that parting the flood was easy for you?"

He had his chest thrust out in a hairier imitation of Hueru's favorite posture. On her cousin, she found it amusing—he had nothing beyond his conceits, after all—but as much as Benedikt's assurance had pleased her, she wasn't going to put up with that posture from him.

Deflated by her tone, Benedikt stared at the xaan for a moment, confused. It had never occurred to him that anyone would assume the Song could have an effect without the bard. The Song couldn't exist without the bard. "The power is mine, peerless one. I have a…" How to explain something so intrinsically inexplicable? "… connection with water."

Her tone suggested she already knew the answer, and he'd better be careful that he matched it. But he didn't have connections with anything else, Benedikt reflected bitterly. What could she have heard? He'd done almost nothing but learn Petayn songs and sing them to her since joining her caravan. And before that…

Could she have heard about him evoking the god? She clearly knew what Tul Altun had planned for him. "If you mean the sunrise song, peerless one—that wasn't connecting with Tulpayotee but with the people who worship him."

Her eyes narrowed. "You connect with people?"

"Not always, peerless one, but sometimes a Song touches…" He couldn't give her the kigh. He'd intended to, he'd intended to give her everything, but when he opened his mouth to say the word, the sense of betrayal almost choked him. "… something inside."

He didn't think she noticed the pause.

If you were going to mention the kigh, why didn't you mention them before ? You told her the water obeyed you. Not the water kigh.

Water kigh would have meant a long explanation that would have given the xaan not only water, but air, and earth, and fire as well. With one quarter explained, any reasonably intelligent person would arrive at the rest.
And I don't want to live this new life as the person who Sings only water
.

It sounded good. If memories of being drawn into a liquid embrace hadn't been taking up so much space in his head, he might even have believed it.

"Yes, I'm sure most songs touch something inside." The xaan clearly disapproved of such blatant sentimentality. "Can you make people obey you as well as water?"

About to deny the ability—he'd been absolutely pitiful at Command and only moderately better at Charm—Benedikt suddenly realized that the xaan
expected
him to say no. She didn't believe he could do it.

He remembered the feeling he'd had during that moment of power over the frightened old man and when the guards had taken that half step away—it was a heady, addictive feeling. It was probably what the xaan felt all the time.

If you could feel like that
, her tone said,
you would. You don % so you can't. I ask only because I don't like to leave these things unsaid
.

He thought about explaining bardic oaths—
I will not use the kigh for gain
.—then remembered he wasn't exactly a bard anymore and that here, in this new land, he was making it up as he went along.

"I can Command, peerless one."

This time she heard the inflection. "Then why haven't you?"

"And what would I Command, peerless one?" Benedikt spread his hands for emphasis. "Take me home? There's no point in asking for the impossible. Give me a place in your household? You've already done so."

"Yes, I have. And now I discover you're so much more than you appear." The xaan lifted a small string of bells and gave it three short sharp jerks.

One of her guards slipped silently into the room.

"Command him," she told Benedikt, flicking a polished fingernail toward the guard. "I need to see what you can do. Have him bend down and touch his toes."

Trying not to panic, Benedikt rose up off his knee.
You can do this
, he told himself.
Guards are used to being commanded
. Breathing a little faster than he had been, he turned and moved two steps closer to the guard.

Who looked up and sneered.

Benedikt recognized the sneer. The same guard had given him much the same look as he passed during the flood Song. After a moment, Benedikt caught the older man's gaze and managed to hold it.
"Bend over,"
he said,
"and touch your toes."

The guard blinked once, shook his head as though he were dislodging flies, and peered over Benedikt's shoulder. "Is it your wish, peerless one?"