The Silver Lake (66 page)

As a light misting of rain began to fall, Kemal scowled as he hurried toward the Derneke-Mahalle Citadel. Kaptin Julide had pounced on him directly after the Invocation and he’d just stared at her in surprise.

“Today, Kaptin?” he asked, glancing over at Brax who’d managed to work his way through the crowds of warriors to Spar’s side.

“You’ll be back long before his midmorning feast, never mind before dusk,” she replied sharply. “We need to send a proxy-bey. Havo’s Dance begins tonight and there’ll be questions the marshal doesn’t want answered.”

“There’ve been questions all year,” Kemal pointed out.

“Yes, and our answers all year have been that Estavia’s warriors are prepared to meet any and all challenges to Anavatan’s security. As always. You’ll say the same today.” She gave him a stem look from under her brows. “Spar’s vision and our preparations regarding Brax are not to be discussed. It’s private temple business, period.”

“And the spirits, Kaptin?”

“What about them?”

“Shouldn’t we warn the other temples that they may have increased in strength or numbers this year?”

“No. The temples were warned last spring. The spirits will do what they’ve apparently done every Havo’s Dance: attempt to breach the walls of Anavatan. The citizens and the temples will also do what they’ve done every Havo’s Dance: barricade themselves behind strong walls and shutters to wait out the storms. This year should be no different. We’ll be ready; Incasa’s oracle-seers probably will be, too. The city is secure.” Noting his recalcitrant expression, the kaptin made an impatient gesture. “It may seem that we’re always devolving a petty and annoying duty onto you arbitrarily, Ghazi, but Estavia-Sarayi has good reason for whom we chose to represent us among Anavatan’s leaders. You’re for Assembly. Now.”

Closing his teeth on what would have been an unwise and likely insubordinate reply, Kemal merely saluted stiffly.

“Yes, Kaptin.”

Now, stepping around a bit of broken cobblestone, Kemal growled low in his throat. “Good reason, my arse,” he muttered. “The good reason is that no one else wants to risk getting caught in an early thunderstorm.”

Glancing up at the heavy clouds gathering overhead, he quickened his pace. The residential area situated between Estavia’s temple and the center of Anavatan was mostly given over to the homes of the more prosperous warrior families and, with no Usara-Cami nearby, it was not unusual for the surrounding streets to be nearly empty of people today, but even with that knowledge, it seemed to Kemal that the air hung more heavily and the trees rustled more ominously than in previous years.

Brax’s words from last spring echoed in his mind as he hurried along the street.

“The spirits attack the unsworn on Havo’s Dance.
That’s why nobody goes
out
. They used to just suck the life out of things like spiders and mice, sometimes
a
sick rat, but last year they started on the feral dogs and
cats.
That made them strong enough to go after
people,
but
they can only get to the unsworn, so we keep under cover when they’re out hunting.”

Purposely ignoring the dark recesses between the houses, Kemal had to agree that at least there were no unsworn in this particular district. Nonetheless, he was still relieved to leave the quiet, shadowy mansions behind and exit into the vast, bustling marketplace that surrounded the Citadel.

A dozen people asked after Jaq as he made his way through the maze of tents and stalls—a dozen people whose only interest was in taking advantage of the buying frenzy that always occurred just before Havo’s Dance sent most of their customers into a self-imposed house arrest for three days. The scene was so familiar that it almost banished both his worry and his pique. Almost.

As usual, he arrived late but was surprised to see that the Central Assembly Chamber held no more than six people today, a young server standing by the side table, one scribe, the three representatives from the city’s Trisects, and Aurad. The server offered him a cup of very black tea and, as he grimaced at the taste, Ystazia’s proxy-bey favored him with a sympathetic expression before gesturing at the empty cushion beside him.

“Just hasn’t been the same since Dorn died last summer,” he noted, saluting the other man with a small china coffee cup.

“Point.”

“Where’s Jaq?”

“With my delinkon, as usual.”

“And I thought cats were the only fickle pets. You’ll have to get a new one, old friend.”

“I just might.” Kemal glanced about as he took his place. “Where is everyone? I’d have thought Assembly would be half over by now.”

“No such luck. We’ll take a drenching before the day is over, mark my words.” The musician leaned back, large hands clasped behind his head. “Usara’s temple sent a very old retired potion mixer who’s been in the loo since I arrived because Jemil and the rest are likely still hard at work ministering to the poor at this time of day, First Cultivar Bey Adrian is taking a drink in the upper gallery with a dozen followers—discussing last-minute party arrangements I’d imagine—and won’t be coming down until we
actually
begin, Incasa’s Bey is always fashionably last, as you know, and Neclan ..”he paused dramatically, “has been delayed, but she’s on her way.”

“Bey Neclan, late for Assembly?” Kemal grinned. “What is the world coming to?”

“An end, no doubt. Ah!” Aurad sat up straight in gleeful anticipation as a figure entered the chamber, but the sight of Proxy-Bey Niami of Incasa-Sarayi gave him pause. “Huh,” he said as she accepted a cup of tea from the server before taking Incasa’s traditional place at the head of the table. “Well, that never would have happened in Freyiz’s day.”

Kemal said nothing, but the sight of the junior seer did not surprise him. It seemed that the God of Prophecy’s First Oracle didn’t want to answer questions any more than Marshal Brayazi did. That didn’t bode well for the day.

Once Assembly finally began the questions started at once. Already in a foul temper, Bey Neclan fixed Incasa’s young representative with a cold stare.

“It’s been one year since Sayin Freyiz brought us word of a new power born on Havo’s Dance,” she said bluntly. “Since that time our respective temples have followed the direction of our Gods and the
suggestion,”
she said with a barely disguised sneer, “made by Incasa’s temple that we prepare and that we wait. Well, we have prepared and we have waited, and now Oristo-Sarayi would like to know just what we have prepared and waited for. What is this child of power and potential? Is it a danger to us? Are the spirits of the wild lands in league with it and, if so, are they now a true danger as well? Quite bluntly: Is Anavatan safe,
Seer?”

Niami gave the head of the Hearth God’s temple a misty-eyed smile.

“My superiors have charged me to say this in answer, Sayin,” she began respectfully. “The child of the prophecy is no threat to the City of the Gods.”

She fell silent and after a moment, Neclan narrowed her eyes. “And?” she demanded.

“And that is all, Sayin,” Niami answered almost apologetically. “There’s nothing to fear, not on this Havo’s Dance, nor on any other.”

“Well, that’s lovely, I’m so relieved,” Aurad interjected, leaning his elbows on the table. “But it doesn’t answer the rest of the question.
What is it,
this child of yours? You’ve had a year to snoop about the creeks or trickles or whatever you call them; you must have discovered something: hair color, eye color, pets, favorite foods, its
abayon,
maybe.”

“Its present seeming is spiritlike, Sayin. What Its true being may become is still shrouded in the mists of time,” Niami answered, ignoring the musician’s suspicious tone with tactful élan.

“How very convenient,” Neclan observed, her own voice dripping with sarcasm.

“But, Sayin,” Niami said, opening her hands in a helpless gesture. “The temples are prepared, yes? And the city streets are swept of the unsworn?”

“Swept?”

Incasa’s representative just shrugged. “Any danger that may arise from the prophecy or from the lowly spirits of the wild lands can’t harm the sworn and Oristo, Usara, and Ystazia-Sarayi have all been aggressively recruiting among the unsworn all year, have they not?”

“Oristo-Sarayi is prepared for Havo’s Dance,” Neclan said, refusing to rise to the somewhat pointed accusation. “Our halls are full, as always, with those seeking refuge from the
weather.”

“As are ours,” Aurad answered. “And,” he fixed the God of Prophecy’s proxy-bey with an uncharacteristi cally stem expression. “You may tell your superiors at Incasa-Sarayi that
Ystazia-Sarayi
will be
prepared
to Invoke our own God should anything untoward occur during the next three nights, regardless of the state of the sworn or the unsworn.”

“As is Oristo-Sarayi,” Neclan agreed coldly. She cast an expectant glance toward Usara’s representative and, after a brief moment of confusion, the old man nodded.

Niami cocked her head to one side. “If the temples of Hearth, Arts, and Healing feel it’s necessary, then Prophecy has no objection to such prudent provisions, of course,” she said. “It is after all, not the time of our God’s accession. But I shouldn’t wonder if Havo’s temple mightn’t have something to say about it, however.”

All eyes now turned to the tall, bi-gender First Cultivar who was sitting, bare feet crossed at the ankles, staring out the high west window at the sky, and sipping at a crystal glass of raki with seeming disinterest. Setting the glass to one side, Bey Adrian just tucked a lock of disheveled black hair behind one ear before giving an eloquent shrug in reply.

“Havo isn’t interested in prophecies, old or new. Change is necessary for growth. If the other temples want to place their people on alert, that’s their business; we’ll be doing what we always do, celebrating. But,” Adrian raised one hand to forestall an indignant remark from Bey Neclan. “Havo will be out in force tearing up the city for the next three nights. Any spirits or prophetic children that get in the way will likely get shredded. Or eaten. Spring change belongs to our God and our God gets very hungry in spring.”

With a smile, Niami now returned her attention to Bey Neclan. “And so the city is prepared, Sayin,” she said pleasantly.

Oristo’s bey favored her with a haughty look down the length of her nose. “So it would seem,” she answered frostily.

“Then, perhaps, we might move on to other business. That is unless Estavia’s temple has something else to add regarding Anavatan’s security,” Niami added with exaggerated politeness.

Kemal cast the young seer a jaundiced look as the Assembly, and most particularly the three Trisect representatives, now turned their attention his way.