Shadowkill sq-3, page 13
part #3 of Shadith's quest Series
women dancing, thin, etiolate, all bone and skin and huge dark eyes, eerily unexpectedly lovely creatures that brought with them the anguish of loss (she knew why in the dream but couldn’t remember later)…
a red-haired woman weeping for a lost child, a grief Kizra shared as if it were her own (she knew her in the dream, knew her like a sister, a deeply loved sister, but when she woke, there was only the face and the hair, the long fine red hair)…
two cats died and a man cried out in anguish and rage, a lion man, she shared that anguish till the dream faded…
Nightmare followed nightmare until she dropped into a hard-fisted sleep that left her as tired when she struggled out of bed as she was before she lay down.
13
Matja Allina’s estate office on the ground floor was small and intimate with a bow window looking out into the Family Garden. She sat in a cushioned armchair drawn up to a swaylegged table, her hands were folded on the table, and she was listening to a dispute over the distribution of cloth.
Polyapo stood beside the door, despising everyone in the room for allowing the dispute to happen.
Sitting on a low bench in the bow window, half-hidden behind a carved and pierced screen of some dark rich local wood, Kizra watched the Ulyinik’s long nose twitch and thought:
if it were up to her, everyone involved in this would be whipped until they knew their place and left to go without cloth until they were naked and properly grateful for anything they were given.
“The promise, Matja Allina. The Daughter’s Promise. I want the bolt for Lahirra’s wedding. Blue cloth, fine blue, not just ordinary tirrk. For all girls when they wed, by your word, O Matja.”
The Weavemistress snorted. “And you got it, Luwlu chal, on Winterstart, you signed for it and carted it off and you know it.”
“Can I help it if N’gwaral gets hisself clawed by some filthy l’borrgha and dies two months later leaving my Lahirra a sorrowing widow? What’s a mother to do? Ignore her child once she’s wed and let everything after go as it goes? The promise is made, when a daughter weds, cloth for her dowry. So Lahirra is going to wed with N’trurr next week. So she’s due another bolt.”
Aghilo slipped through the door and stood beside Polyapo, looking agitated. Kizra rubbed at her chin. I wonder what’s up.
Matja Allina’s eyes flicked to Aghilo, then she returned to her absorption in the speeches of the two women.
“Huh,” the Weavemistress said, “the way the girl goes through husbands, she should open a clothing store. Lahirra has her dower, all she has to do is carry it down two doors when she moves in with N’trurr. And take better care of this one so he doesn’t die on her.”
“Hard, hard, you’re so hard, Nunnikura chal, how’s my little girl to blame, she didn’t send her man out there to get chewed up.” She burst out sobbing and keening, producing more noise than tears.
Matja Allina knocked gently against the table. “Quiet, Luwlu chal. Answer me a question or two, if you please. No, Nunnikura chal, you can speak later if you so desire.”
Luwlu sniffed, wiped her nose on her sleeve, dipped a curtsey and waited.
“Luwlu chal, how much of the first bolt remains?”
The woman looked sullen, but she didn’t dare protest. “About half,” she said after a long silence while she was pretending to remember, “Matja Allina.”
“It is certainly no fault of Lahirra that her first husband met with an angry l’borrgha and if the time between her weddings were somewhat longer, there would be no question about providing a second dower bolt. Nunnikura, you will measure the length remaining of the first dower bolt and complete it so Lahirra goes to her second wedding with the same gift she had at the first. And, given the tragic circumstances that make the second wedding necessary, you will also add a length of wedding cloth, fine green for the twice married bride, and a length of lace for her wedding shift from my own stores. Do you consent, Nunnikura chal? Do you consent, Luwlu chal?”
Nunnikura Weavemistress compressed her mouth in a straight line; she didn’t approve, but she wasn’t about to say so. She nodded, dipped through a perfunctory curtsy.
Luwlu chal had a discontented look, but she, too, nodded and curtsied her acceptance.
“Then let it be done, Nunnikura chal, and done within the hour. I thank you for your courtesy, y-chala. Amurra Bless.”
“Blessed be,” Nunnikura said. She glared at Luwlu chal who hastily added her Blessed be, then both left the room.
“What is it, Aghilo? You have something to tell me?” Matja Allina’s voice was cool, but there was more than a little fear behind the mask.
Aghilo glanced at Polyapo, unwilling to give her message in the presence of the older woman.
Matja Allina sat back in the chair, dropped her hands on the arms where they were hidden from the other two women. “Ulyinik Polyapo, you will help me greatly if you would see how many supplicants remain outside and have one of the girls you trained so well make a list of names and when possible a short summary of each complaint. Will you do this for me, please? Good. Amurra Bless.”
“Blessed be Amurra.” Polyapo resented furiously being pushed out like this and given what she considered a make-work task, but she knew also that her place here hung by a thread and that thread was the Matja’s good will. So she went.
As soon as the door clicked shut, Matja Allina brought her hands up, clutched at the table’s edge. “Pirs? There’s word?”
“No, Allina, it’s early yet. This is almost as bad.” She looked down at her hands, touched the ring of keys at her belt. “I was in the Family Garden, setting up the screens for your tea. I heard glass breaking. It was Kulyari, she was trying to get into the study. I had her taken back to her room, there was a cut on her wrist, I used that as an excuse. Loujary was with me, you know, to shift the screens. He had to be rough with her.”
“I understand. If she complains, I’ll back you. Go on.”
“Yes. Well. I saw the summons light blinking on the com;
I expect Kulyari did, too, and that’s why she tried to break in. Anyway, I thought it was someone calling her and it might help if I saw who it was. But it wasn’t for her, it was Tribbi. You remember my half sister, the one who keeps Aynti Tingger? Yes, well, she kept trying to get us, but with the door locked there was no one to answer the com. She wanted to warn us. Your father-by-law, the Artwa Arring Cagharadad flew in yesterday with his bodyguards and bedwarmer and Rintirry. He stayed there overnight, left this morning. He’ll be here sometime before sundown.”
Matja Allina looked down at her hands. They were shaking. She flattened them on the table. There was no color at all in her face. “How very convenient,” she said. “That Rintirry’s here when the news comes about Pirs. How very, very convenient.”
She sat silent a moment, staring at nothing.
“Before sundown. Well.” She forced herself upright. “I doubt there’s a chance Pirs will be back tonight, even if Wuraj comes up with him and nothing’s happened.” She lifted a hand, let it fall, a curious halfhearted gesture as if she were too weary to finish what she’d started. “Aghilo, find Tinoopa quickly; warn her about this descent on us. As soon as you’ve done that, go see Cook, you know what we’ll want. We’re not supposed to know he’s coming, but we’d better cater to his tastes as closely as we can. The supplicants. It’s nearly teatime, anyway. Tell Polyapo to send them away as soon as the list is finished. Um… you know which servants to put with the Artwa. No maids. He’ll have to make do with the bedwarmer he’ll bring with him. Um. As soon as the skimmer’s down, send word round to the women that Rintirry’s come. No girl between eight and fourteen is to show her face or anything else as long as he’s here. They know him, but I want to make sure. Warn Tinoopa about him, tell her if Polyapo tries to send a girl to serve any of that party, she should take care it doesn’t happen; she can use any means she needs to, I’ll back her. Warn her to stay as inconspicuous as possible. For her own sake. Let Polyapo do the greeting and appear to give the orders. Tell her my father-by-law can’t abide dark faces. He’d have her whipped on the slightest suspicion of insolence. That she’s breathing and on her feet would be enough. Be as frank with her as you think useful, I won’t ask what you say to her. So. Anything more? Good. Go, luv, quickly.
She watched Aghilo scurry out, then she scrubbed her hand across her mouth. “Kizra, come here.”
Kizra brought the arranga with her, lifted it to play, but let it fall when Matja Allina shook her head.
“I have to say to you what I told Aghilo to say to Tinoopa. Stay in the background as much as you can. I won’t be able to hide you, not with Kulyari making mischief. She knows the Artwa’s…” She twisted her face in a brief fastidious grimace. “I said he can’t abide dark faces. That’s not the whole truth, child. He won’t have them around him-except in his bed. And the more reluctant they are, the better. In his eyes, this isn’t rape because they are beasts and beasts are put on this world to use as one pleases. But don’t worry, child, you’ll be safe enough.” She rested her hand on the bulge of her son. “Pregnant women are indulged, especially when they carry sons; if I have a fancy to keep you with me, he can’t demand you. And Rintirry has to keep his hands to himself, be thankful for that. Unless he can catch you alone somewhere. After they’re settled in, I want you to sleep in my sitting room. Never leave me when you’re out of it. I don’t want trouble, not now. Ay-Amurra if only Pirs were here…”
She sighed, shifted among the pillows, then grunted as pain seized hold of her.
Kizra hurried around the table, set her hands on Mina’s neck and, did again what she’d done before, transferred calm and relaxation so that the tension in the woman untied itself and flowed away and took with it the pain. She stepped back. “Do you want me to call the men to take you upstairs? You know you’ll need all the strength you have once the Artwa comes.”
“No. I’m not going upstairs, not yet. It’s lovely outside. We’ll have tea in the garden as I planned.” Matja Allina touched her face, looked at the damp on her fingertips from the sweat that was beading her brow. “Yes. Get the lists from Polyapo as soon as they’re finished, you can read them to me later.”
14
It was warm in the garden; the high mud walls kept the worst of the wind off, the late afternoon sun was still high and bright enough to flush the perfume from the flowers and draw shimmers of heat off the pond; the fountains glittered and murmured, jiltis and flying jejantis hummed and skritched, the new green leaves on the trees whispered together, the flowering plums shed pale pink and white petals that landed on the grass and stirred again as Ingva and Yla played with their cats and chased each other in endless games of tag and catch.
Matja Allina was stretched in a lounge chair, sipping at a cup of broth when she remembered to, drowsing in the sun, listening to her children play and to the flowing music of the arranga. A maid was massaging her feet, the screens Aghilo had set about her captured the sunlight and the warmth while the sorrowing willow beside her provided enough shade to ease her eyes. Tinoopa was handling the House, there was nothing she could do to avert the trouble coming at them, so she set aside her troubles and let herself enjoy the afternoon.
Kizra was bored.
She hated that nothing music she was tinkling from the arranga, she hated the bugs crawling on her arms, miggas and tarynas and a dozen other kinds of pest, she hated the willow pollen getting in her eyes and up her nose, not quite making her sneeze. And she was cold. She was in deep shadow, close beside the trunk of the willow. No sun for her. And if she stopped playing to slap at the bugs or scratch, she got a fratchetty complaint from the Matja. There was one blessing in all this, she didn’t have to think… she was getting tired of questions and ghosts and wondering…
A small gray-green lizard ran up the trunk; she caught the movement from the corner of her eye, but didn’t really see what it was until he was almost nose to nose with her. She stared at him and he stared back, loose gray-green skin, tiny orange eyes…
Shock jolted through her. She dropped the arranga, cried out.
The lizard ran away and she fainted.
##
She was out only a moment, opened her eyes to find the girls bending anxiously over her.
“What is it? What happened?” Ingva clutched at her arm, shook it. “Why did you do that?”
Kizra blinked, winced at the pain in her head. She’d hit a knotty root when she went down. Moving stiffly, she sat up. “A lizard,” she said. Her voice was hoarse; saying the word sent more shocks through her. “It scared me.”
“Lizard.” Ingva got to her feet. “Lizard won’t hurt you,” she flung over her shoulder, “Ylie, come on, let the ol’ fraidycat lay there, I got the mocsoc, come see come see…”
Stomach cramping, black spots with tailed halos swimming dizzily in front of her, Kizra pushed up onto her knees. She didn’t understand what was happening to her, she could feel the Matja’s anger, the children’s scorn, the indifference of the housemaids standing like plants in the background-she could feel out beyond them the life in the compound, busy busy life… Everything enormously brighter, stronger, hammering at her… As if some sort of filter had been peeled from her brain…
It was too much.
She knelt hunched over, clutching at herself, nearly out of control… too much… too much…
Matja Allina called her servingmaids to her. With the girls’ help, she sat up. “Jili Arluga,” she said. “Take the girls inside, please. Be quiet, Ingva. You and your sister do what you’re told. I don’t want argument from you, daughter.”
She sat silent as the subdued girls trailed out after their tutor, followed by their serving maids, then she passed a hand across her face. “Chapa Kizra, get yourself together and come here.” Her voice snapped with irritation and impatience. “And think about what you’re going to tell me. I don’t want stupid stories about lizards, you hear me?”
“Yes.” Kizra forced the word out as she groped about for the arranga. When she found it, she wrapped her hand in the carrystrap and got shakily to her feet.
She moved from the shadow of the willow withes and stopped at the foot of the lounge chair.
“Well?”
“I don’t know. What I said was true, Matja Allina. A lizard ran up the tree and frightened me. I don’t know why it did, something in my head, I suppose.” Another shudder passed along her body.
“I see.” With her maids’ help, Matja Allina swung her legs off the lounge and struggled to her feet. “I’ll need you to play for dinner this evening. Will you be able to?”
“Yes, of course.” Kizra spoke quickly, but her voice was still shaking and there was an icy knot in her stomach.
“Not of course.” Old disciplines kicking in-Kizra was one of her charges and due a certain level of consideration-Matja Allina suppressed her irritation. “You need rest.” She frowned at Kizra, eyes moving from the beading of sweat on Kizra’s face to the tight clutch of her hands on the arranga. “I think… yes. I will authorize a hot bath for you. Soak a while, rest in your room. I’ll want you with me an hour before dinner so we can lay out the program. You’ll stay in your room until I send for you?”
“Yes. Of course.” Kizra curtsied, stepped aside to let Allina walk heavily past.
There was a coppery taste in her mouth, the taste of groveling.
Gods. Shadow, you’re a worm… Shadow?
She shivered again, slipped the arranga’s carrystrap over her shoulder, and went inside.
Dyslaera 7: Blood Magic
Azram paced from the ventilation grate to the door-grid, turned and went back, back and forth, back and forth, glancing each time at Kinefray sitting on one of the plank beds.
Kinefray’s ears moved restlessly, his eyes blinked, a muscle at the corner of his mouth twitched erratically. Two hours ago he’d walked into the cell, sat down; he hadn’t said a word since.
Azram sighed, stopped in front of his cousin. “Fray.” Kinefray’s eyes glazed over. He stared past Azram with no further reaction.
Azram extruded the claws on his right hand, touched the tips to the side of Kinefray’s face, running in a shallow arc from the corner of his eye to his jaw just below his mouth. “Fray, listen to me.”
Kinefray moved slightly, retreating from the prick of the claws. After a minute, he blinked, hissed a threat.
Azram stepped back, scowled as Kinefray’s face went empty again. “Oh, Fray,” he said, all his grief in those two words. “I don’t know what to do.”
##
Savant 4 (speaking to notepad):
It begins to look like we’ve managed to break the very close kin-bond between this subject 3F (native name: Kinefray) and the control subject 3A (native name: Azram)… unfortunately this seems to require large and frequently repeated doses of CPF24sub2 combined with Levastrayin and trace quantities of the ananile called Dragon’s Blood… the result does not justify the expense for anything but purposes of research… the rapid metabolizing of these drugs by this species complicates the study… in addition, there seems a slow deterioration in the physical well-being that we have so far been unable to check, especially when this is combined with the effluents of rage…, see the reports of subject 3Tj (native name: Tejnor)…
NOTE: Final report on 3Tj submitted at this point to the panel of Savants. 3Tj dead of massive cerebral accident during forcible administration of a new drug series. See Flake DDY-37 for details of incident and autopsy.
##
Azram rolled up his left sleeve, working with meticulous care, getting the folds smooth and even. He cut a deep scratch in his forearm, watched the blood ooze out. Holding his arm level, he got up, crossed to Kinefray’s side of the cell, and dropped beside him.
Kinefray’s ears twitched as the blood smell reached him, but he didn’t look around, just stared at the dusty gray floor.
