Season of the Dragon, page 17
A small feather headdress adorned her pale silver hair. The feathers flowed from her head to mid-back.
She looks horribly uncomfortable. Does she ever wear anything except extravagant gowns?
“Ah, our dune flower arises at last.” She smiled warmly at Quen. “You must be famished. From the look of you, neither Druvna nor Imbica took care to feed you adequately.”
It was true she’d been famished for weeks, but she blamed neither Druvna nor Imbica for it. The Nixan soul’s needs stoked her hunger. She kept that information, though, to herself. For now, all she wanted was to put whatever smelled so tasty into her belly.
Caz pulled out a chair for Quen. Luz was busy readying a plate for her while Caz poured a pale-pink liquid into a deep-blue goblet.
Luz used a small knife and long fork with two tines to slice meat from a roasted fowl and piled fluffy bread onto her plate. She placed it in front of Quen while Caz brought her a bowl of tiny ripe red berries, a plate of creamy cheese, and a porridge with spices, sugar, and milk.
Quen tried, at first, to be polite and take small bites. But one taste of the fresh bread with creamy cheese and the ravenous hunger took over. She shoved food into her gullet like a wild animal hoarding its kill, her head down over her plate. Occasionally she sipped from the cup to wash it down. The beverage was a tangy citrus drink flavored with a hint of spice and honey. Each time she emptied the cup, Caz filled it.
She ate until she was just past gorged. I’ll probably soon regret eating so much rich food. After weeks of eating little more than dried meat, hard cheese, and nuts, her system wasn’t used to food in such quantity. Quen belched loudly, and her stomach rumbled like pipes filling with water after a long dry spell.
Pelagia looked up from the scroll she’d been reading. “You must go slowly, Quen. Like the rest of you, your stomach needs time to heal.”
Quen wiped her mouth and belched again, this time trying to cover it with her hand. It occurred to her that Pelagia had used her real name. “How do you know my name?”
Pelagia smiled. “I know much about you, Quen Tomo Santu di Sulmére. But what I do not understand is how you came to be in the company of Druvna’s rogue Jagaru pod?”
A bird as orange as a Sulmére sunset after a sandstorm landed on the table near Quen’s hand. The bird sported a mohawk of black feathers. Did Pelagia use feathers from a bird like this to make her dress? The bird gazed at Quen as if expecting food, but her plate was empty.
“Imbica said the same thing. What do you mean by ‘rogue’ Jagaru?”
“You didn’t know?”
When Quen shrugged and shook her head, Pelagia laughed. “Now I see how old Druvna got a pod together. He did not tell his young recruits that the Exalted exiled him from the Jagaru. Druvna’s Jagaru pod is—unsanctioned, shall we say?”
Pahpi would sooner be stripped of his skin in the Phisma tar pits than know not one but two of his children were illicit Jagaru. The rich food coupled with the shock of Druvna’s deception made Quen’s gut a roiling cauldron. She sipped the nectar to avoid vomiting, or worse, showing Pelagia how surprised she was at the news. “What did he do to earn such a punishment?” I’m afraid to hear the answer.
“The worst sin one can commit in the Exalted Xa’Vatra’s eyes.”
Quen took a deep breath and swallowed hard. “And what might that be?”
“He disobeyed.” Pelagia coolly regarded her as if waiting for her reaction.
Quen had expected her to say that Druvna had murdered an innocent. “They sent him to prison for disobedience?” Her voice was incredulous.
Pelagia nodded and stroked Nivi’s head. “Instead of delivering a prisoner to Kovatha for judgment, he summarily executed the accused. Can you imagine?”
I’m imagining it right now. She recalled how angry Druvna had been at Mishny when she slit the throat of the people traffickers they’d encountered in Juinar. She held her tongue, though, not wanting to say something that would land Druvna back in a Qülla cell—or worse. I’m sore at him for deceiving Rhoji and me, but I don’t want Druvna to go to prison again.
“You did not answer my question. I would love to learn how Druvna’s band of ne’er-do-wells ended up at the Tilaj Gate. It is risky for an exile to travel so far north.”
Answering Pelagia’s questions required a long story and would reveal more than Quen wanted to share. “It is a long tale.”
Pelagia rolled the manuscript she’d been reading back into the brass reading device. She reclined in her chair and steepled her fingers beneath her chin. “I have time for a story.” She wore a bemused expression.
Quen sipped the honeyed nectar, trying to compose herself. I wish Rhoji were here. He always knows what should—and should not—be said.
Rhoji. Quen wiped her wet cheek with the silk sleeve of her gown.
Pelagia’s expression softened. “Ah, I see. It is a tale of woe. Too many have such tales.” She held up her cup, and Luz refilled it. “Do not speak of it if you wish to forget.”
To forget? I don’t want to forget. My life in the Sulmére is already like a hazy dream. I must tell the story, if only so my life in Solia doesn’t fade into oblivion. Pahpi cannot be forgotten.
She’d intended to describe only the bare minimum about a burned village and her time with Imbica. Instead, she spoke of Nevara and the black wolf, the dragon and its mysterious rider, and the Jagaru riding north. She ended the story with her last moments with Imbica. The tale took so long to tell she ate another plate, speaking at times with her mouth full. Pelagia listened patiently and intently, interrupting only a few times to ask a question or get clarification.
Quen finished by saying, “I don’t think the gods like me much.”
Pelagia laughed. “The gods dislike us all, Quen. Why do you think they made us human?” She rubbed Nivi’s head, and he blinked slowly, appearing content with her affections. Pelagia made a chirping sound, and within a few moments, two blue-black birds landed on her outstretched arm.
The birds made the same chirping sound back to her. Pelagia gave each a gentle ruffle beneath the chin, and they danced on her arm and vied for her attention.
“If the gods loved us, they would have given us lives as birds,” she said. Pelagia lifted her arm and shooed the birds off. They flew to the top of one of the tallest trees in the indoor courtyard. “To fly.” Her eyes looked wistful.
She turned her attention back to Quen. There was a gleam in her eye. “Dragons fly.”
At the mere mention of dragons, Vahgrin’s immense maw filled with razor teeth came to mind, followed closely by visions of her burning village—and Pahpi. Quen squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed hard. Pelagia wouldn’t be enamored with dragons if one had incinerated her palace or killed someone she loved. “Dragons also kill.”
Pelagia offered the prayer for the dead. She touched the fingertips of her right hand to her chest, then mouth, and finally her thumb to her forehead. “May the Sister welcome your loved ones in her embrace.”
Quen touched her thumb to her forehead between her eyes and gave the rote reply. “And be welcomed by the light of the Brothers.”
Pelagia held a reverent look as the prayer required, but only for a few seconds. She edged her seat closer, excitement gleaming in her eyes. “Tell me. What did you do when you first saw the magnificent flying beast?”
“I nearly dirtied myself.”
Pelagia laughed. “The mighty Quen Santu, afraid of a dragon.”
Of course I was afraid. She imagined Fano, his chest as broad as a thukna arse, likely quaked upon seeing Vahgrin. “I’m hardly mighty. Any attempt I make to call on the Corners goes horribly wrong. And animals are afraid of me, which usually leads to disaster.”
Pelagia looked astonished. “Afraid of you? Nivi does not fear you.” She gestured to the air above them. “The birds in my sanctuary have come right up to you.”
I should be happy about this change in circumstances, but something about it feels wrong. It added to the growing sensation that her previous life was the dream, not this new one.
“Maybe the ones here are—well, they’re tame, aren’t they? Anyway, I’m not mighty.” Why would she say that?
“Maybe not now.” Pelagia stared intently at her. “But you will be.”
“What do you—”
Before Quen could finish her sentence, a man burst into the patio area. “Oh, dear Mistress, you have been hiding from me.” Short, thick black hair cut to the shoulders topped his cleanly shaven face. I haven’t seen a single beard in Qülla.
Pelagia rose to greet this newcomer, the feathers of her dress rustling as she moved. Gold liner rimmed the man’s dark-brown eyes, and turquoise shadow covered his eyelids. A chain hung from the silver cuff at his ear and connected to a large hoop through his nostril. The chain lightly tinkled as he feigned a kiss on Pelagia’s cheek. His purple-tinted lips never touched her face. Pelagia did the same, barely grazing his clean-shaven face as they held hands lightly.
“Anu, you have been away too long.” She gestured to a seat.
He swung the long tails of his turquoise-colored silk coat behind him, his purple silk pants swishing as he sat. After settling in his seat, he grabbed a few grapes from a bowl on the table and took notice of Quen for the first time. “My dear Mistress, what have you been up to?” His eyes were wide with wonder, and a smile lit up his face.
Quen wasn’t sure if she should stand or remain seated and quiet. She did nothing, sure if she was wrong, Pelagia would correct her.
“Anu’Bida di Māja Wix—meet Quen Tomo Santu di Sulmére. The first Doj’Anira from the Sulmére to make her way to the Menagerie.”
Quen was about to correct Pelagia. She didn’t ‘make her way.’ More like kidnapped, tortured, and unceremoniously sold to the Menagerie for a small fortune.
“Doj’Anira from the Sulmére,” he whispered. “By Lumine’s teats, and one eye is blue.”
Pelagia drank from her cup. “Blue as a mountain pool.” She popped a grape into her mouth.
Anu grabbed a goblet from a serving tray, and before he’d even set it down, Luz was at his side, ready to fill his cup with the honeyed fruit juice they were drinking. He put a hand over his goblet.
“None of that piss for me. Come, Pelagia, it must be time for wine. If not here, then somewhere.” He faked a pout.
Pelagia nodded at Luz, and the silent woman sped through the trees, presumably to find wine for the new arrival.
“Who brought her?” Anu asked.
Pelagia leaned her elbows on the table, her chin on her hands. “Imbica. Can you believe it?”
The man chortled. “I would not have thought the little climber had it in her.”
“Do not credit her with courage. The nasty cornerless fool immolated her.”
Anu gasped. “She did not.”
Quen spread her hands open. The blue network of veins was still visible under her skin, but it had already faded a bit since she arrived.
Luz returned and filled Anu’s glass with dark-red wine. Pelagia snapped her fingers, and Luz brought her a fresh cup and filled it as well.
“One wonders how she even got a post as a Kovatha, what with being born in a granary.” Pelagia took a long drink of the wine. “She gets far more respect in the world than she deserves.”
Quen wanted to take issue with the idea that Imbica didn’t deserve to be a Kovatha. Apparently, neither has suffered Imbica’s magical torture or witnessed her besting a dragon and its Rajani.
“I suppose she wanted you to run to the Exalted, squealing about what a loyal servant to the Dynasty she is,” Anu’Bida said.
They chuckled.
“You know her far too well.”
“An easy book to read,” Anu said.
Quen drained her cup. Luz was ready to pour wine into it, but Quen put her hand over her cup as she’d seen Anu do. Should the chance for escape present itself, it was best to be sober.
Pelagia apparently couldn’t abide an empty goblet. “Fetch her more nectar.” She turned her full attention back to Anu. “Enough about that little root dweller. Tell me about your travels. Did you bring me anything wonderfully ugly from Tinox?”
Anu looked over the rim of his cup at her as he drank. “I am afraid I came empty-handed, at least for you.”
It was Pelagia’s turn to puff her lips in a mock pout. She let out a loud sigh. “Ah well, at least tell me gossip of our friends to the north.”
Anu had been full of mirth, but his smile disappeared, and his eyes grew dark. He chanced a furtive look at Quen and sighed. “That is a conversation best left for another time.” He forced a light laugh. “Besides, what news could compare to this?” He gestured toward Quen with his cup. “Did Imbica know what she had in her hands when she delivered the Doj’Anira to you?”
Pelagia stared at Quen pensively. “I am not sure. Of course, Prelate Vidar must examine the Doj’Anira.”
Anu wiped his mouth with a silk napkin. “Of course.”
“Imbica raved about Rajani and dragons as she left, but I do not think she had a clue.” Pelagia took a long draw from her cup. “Thank Hiyadi’s light. You can always count on a bureaucrat to do the job but not look past the plain lines of an Edict.”
Anu laughed. “Hear, hear!”
They clinked their goblets, red wine splashing onto the wood table. Caz rushed to wipe it.
“What more is there to know of it?” Quen asked.
They stopped laughing. Both stared at her as though they’d forgotten she could speak. Nivi, who had been napping a few paces behind Pelagia, rose. He looked at Quen as if he awaited an answer as much as she did.
Pelagia coughed lightly. “The Exalted has expressly forbidden anyone to discuss the purpose of Edict 42 except among members of the Conclave. Alas, we are not members—”
“Yet.” Anu’s eyes twinkled.
Quen had had it with people trying to deny her information about an unjust law that singled out people for capture based solely on eye color. “By Lumine’s tits and Hiyadi’s ass, I am a person, not a jizz-spewing drey. If you can’t tell me what this is about, then… well….”
She ran out of curse words. I’m glad Pahpi didn’t hear me.
They were momentarily silent, then both Anu and Pelagia laughed heartily. Anu wiped tears of laughter from his eyes.
“Jizz-spewing drey.” He drank deeply of his cup and laughed. “I must remember that one. Straight from the Sulmére, that is. The people of the dunes have a quaint culture, don’t they?”
Pelagia rose, her feather dress rustling. “I would enjoy nothing more than to speak with you for hours—days—about all that is behind Edict 42, Quen. Alas, I am only a simple zookeeper, not a Conclave member. I am not privy to the Dynasty’s mysteries.”
She knows more about Edict 42 than she’ll say.
Seeing Quen’s face fall with defeat, Pelagia added, “Have good cheer, dune flower. The Exalted has called me to present you to her court this evening.” She raised her cup to Quen. “The Exalted has planned a fête in your honor. Perhaps tonight, we will learn more of what is behind this edict.”
Pelagia drained her cup, and Luz immediately refilled it. “Come to my study, Anu. It grows hot here with the afternoon suns. We have much to discuss.”
She turned to leave, Nivi at her heels. Anu followed.
Quen shouted after them, “What am I to do?”
Pelagia turned and held up her cup. “Eat and drink your fill. Then visit the Menagerie. Caz and Luz will show you the way and later prepare you for your audience with the Exalted.”
Pelagia clicked her tongue, and Nivi rose and stood at her side. He gave Quen a mournful look, then the three disappeared behind the thick foliage along the path.
Quen should have been full still from gorging herself. Yet her stomach rumbled with a hunger that was feeling insatiable.
She reached for more of the roasted fowl, but Luz motioned her to sit as soon as she did. Caz grabbed the platter and swooped to her side to fill her plate.
“I can serve myself.”
She hadn’t meant it as a slight, but Luz’s stoic demeanor gave way to a droopy frown. Caz cast her eyes downward as though she, too, had been offended.
“I’m sorry. I meant no offense.”
Neither woman said anything.
They clearly understand me. “Are you forbidden from speaking to me?” Quen had always had companions to chat with. If not her father and brothers, there was always Dini. During the rains, Shel, Eira, and countless people from herd clans, or Fano and other traveling tradespeople, merchants, and entertainers. The silence of these two is maddening.
Luz opened her mouth wide, showing Quen the inside. There was only a little stub of flesh where a tongue should have been.
Quen gasped. She looked at Caz. “And you too?”
Caz opened her mouth and showed the nub where her tongue used to be.
Bile filled Quen’s throat. Either someone had mutilated the twins before they served Pelagia, or the woman who had treated Quen like royalty wasn’t what she seemed. What if this happens to all Doj’Anira?
“Did Pelagia do this to you two?”
They didn’t respond. Their stoic expressions returned.
Quen pondered how she could ask it another way. Finally, she said, “When you arrived here, were you able to speak?”
They nodded in unison.
Unbridled anxiety about her future quashed her hunger, and she pushed the plate away.
Were they maimed as punishment, or are all servants clipped like that? The warmth of the glass-domed garden, previously soothing, now suffocated. She’d dodged the bonds of shackles only to be imprisoned in a glass cage. There’s only one way to ensure I don’t become a speechless thrall. I must escape Qülla.
Chapter 13
