Season of the Dragon, page 18
Handicapped
Handicapped and with no means of escape, Quen was still adamant she wouldn’t succumb to fate as a maimed servant. She recalled what the water-taxi driver said. “You have friends in the capital.” What does that mean? Qülla’s canals and water alleys were her best bet of finding these so-called ‘friends.’ I’ll find a way out of this glass prison and seek the water-taxi driver.
Quen asked, “Can you show me to the Menagerie?”
Luz nodded and gestured for Quen to follow. I don’t want to harm them, but…. As they rounded a narrow and secluded path, Quen was about to make her move, but a deep voice boomed from behind.
“Hold up, you two. They sent me to guard the Doj’Anira.” The voice came from a massive man, his arms as big around as one of Quen’s thighs. He caught up and said, “Name’s Hem. I’m with House Neyda, Ser Anu’Bida’s personal guard, but he said I’m to watch over you today.”
Guard me from harm, or ensure I don’t flee? Quen closed her eyes and sighed. I could have easily bested these small, unarmed women. Hem wore a pair of khopesh in scabbards hooked to his waist belt, where he also stowed a belt knife. Without weapons, Quen couldn’t best Hem in combat. She forced a wan smile. “Welcome to the party. We’re headed to the Menagerie then.”
Hem’s golden-brown eyes widened, and his full lips curled in a smile. “There’s perks to my job, yes. Only the Kovan family gets to even peek into the Menagerie. You must be real special, Doj’Anira, to get to go inside when you’re not a Kovan.”
Quen didn’t feel special. More like cursed. But she remained silent and followed Caz and Luz through the sun-filled glass enclosed halls, Hem close on her heels.
They walked through a labyrinth of glass-enclosed halls and inner stone corridors. They finally arrived at a massive iron gate from which came bird calls and animal sounds. Caz opened the gate and gestured for Quen to enter. She made a sign with her hands that indicated she and Luz would stay, but Quen could go inside.
Quen entered the gates and assumed Hem would go with her, but he remained with the women.
“You came to make sure I won’t escape, didn’t you? So why aren’t you coming with me?”
Hem smiled and chuckled. “’Cause there’s no way out of the Menagerie ‘xept through me.” He crossed his arms over his bare, burly chest. “And if you try something in there, most likely you end up eaten, so be on your best behavior.” Seeing Quen’s frown, his eyes softened a bit. “Look at it this way, Doj’Anira. You get a rare peek at something most people’ll never see. Enjoy it.”
He had a point. What was it Pahpi said about unpleasant tasks? ‘Bask in Hiyadi’s light when you can, for Vay’Nada’s shadow hovers on the horizon.’ Rhoji hates that saying. Throat tight with welling emotion, Quen sighed and walked the stone path, passing glass enclosures containing exotic birds and unfamiliar beasts. Quen meandered through a maze of glass cages. Though separated from Quen by glass walls, the animals paced, panted, squawked, and chittered. The gentle birdcall swelled to a cacophony of nervous screeching. My curse remains. Her stomach churned from rich food mixed with growing unease with the place. There is something unnatural at work here.
The Menagerie ended at a massive enclosure built around a natural rock outcropping. Wildly overgrown vines and foliage filled the entire pen. Water trickling from the rocks created a peaceful background sound for the dark, cave-like cage.
The iron railing here was taller, at least an arm’s reach over Quen’s head. The rails were set more closely together, creating a pronounced prison-bar effect.
Quen searched high and low but saw nothing move within. This pen must be empty.
She was about to walk away but stopped when Nivi roared. He leaped out of the shadows, his white fur glistening in the sunlight. Though she knew he couldn’t escape the enclosure, she jumped back. Nivi cleared the moat in one smooth stride, clearly undeterred by efforts to prevent him from approaching the bars. Up close, he was even larger than she’d thought he was.
Nivi stood as close to the rails as possible and stared at Quen. He roared again and paced back and forth by the bars, panting and making small chirps.
She didn’t know what his calls meant. Seeing such a magnificent creature confined as he was, Quen’s heart filled with sorrow. “Do you want to be free of this place?”
Nivi roared again.
“I wish I could free you, Nivi. But right now, I can’t even free myself.” She took a step closer to gauge his reaction.
Nivi sat on his haunches, still panting.
“Are you hot?” She held out her hand for him to smell her. Her fingers shook as she got closer.
Nivi sniffed at her and intently stared. He didn’t bare his teeth.
She moved in a relaxed and deliberate way. “Never stare a wild predator in the eye,” Pahpi said. Quen cast her gaze downwards. As her hand approached his nose, Nivi showed no sign he would nip her.
She touched his wet nose and, seeing he wasn’t uncomfortable, Quen gently stroked his furry cheek and neck. Nivi blinked languidly, apparently content with her attention. Quen mimicked the slow blinking, hoping to show she was no threat.
Quen’s hearts fluttered. She’d always wanted to pet an animal the way she saw people caress dogs, cats, and even drey and thukna. His fur was clean and fluffy. The bells hanging from his braided beard lightly jingled as she stroked him.
The anomaly on her neck tingled like a limb waking after falling asleep. She rubbed it and willed herself into a calmer state.
Quen knelt, slowly reached through the bars, and wrapped her arms around Nivi’s neck. The big cat rubbed his head against hers through the bars, a deep rumble coming from his enormous chest.
Quen lay in the grass and petted Nivi. “You belong in a cage no more than I, Nivi.” His braided beard jingled. “We are meant to roam.” He purred, and when she stopped stroking, he nuzzled her hand for more affection.
She remained by his side, content in his company despite the sweltering heat of the late-afternoon suns. Nivi’s wild heart was not afraid of the Nixan shadow soul Quen carried. “You’re the first animal friend I’ve ever had, Nivi.” Quen was happier than she’d been in weeks, at least so long as she kept herself from contemplating the fate that would befall her if she was unsuccessful at convincing the Exalted that Quen wasn’t whatever she sought.
Suddenly, Nivi yelped and kneeled, his head on his front paws, his eyes downcast.
“He did not hurt you, did he?” Pelagia called.
Quen rose and wiped dirt and grass from her behind. She shook her head.
Pelagia wore pants fashioned from the skin of a ringed snake. Its red, gold, and black stripes now wound around Pelagia’s thighs. On top, she wore a sleeveless shirt of light-tan-and-grey lizard skin. She wore no headdress, and her wrists and fingers were unadorned. It was odd to see her so plain compared to her usual elaborate dress.
Pelagia’s pink skin glistened with sweat. She had a pair of smooth, finely tanned grey leather gloves in her hand, and she waved them at Quen. She sounded out of breath. “It is time for you to get ready to go to the Palace di Soli.” Pelagia ran her hand along Nivi’s nose. He stared up at Pelagia without lifting his head, his look contemptuous.
Quen couldn’t explain how she knew it, but she was certain Nivi despised Pelagia. He obeys against his will. I don’t understand how Pelagia does it, but she controls him. And her control causes him pain.
As this realization bloomed, Vatra’s heat rose in her belly. If only I could command Vatra. She imagined hurling a ball of flame at Pelagia as she’d seen Imbica do. But acrid sweat was the only thing coming from her hands.
“Have you enjoyed your time in the Menagerie?”
Rhoji would play it cool and suck up to Pelagia. But Quen wasn’t good at hiding her feelings. “Cages aren’t really my thing.” Her neck ridge buzzed like a beehive.
Pelagia’s expression remained cool, unbothered by Quen’s lack of enthusiasm for the animal prison the Dynasty was so proud of. “Most beasts here came to us ill, injured, or orphaned.” She stared intently at Quen. “We fix broken things here.”
“I’m not broken,” Quen said.
Pelagia smiled. “Aren’t you?” She cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes at Quen. “I wonder.”
“And what of Nivi? He wasn’t ill or broken. They forced him to leave his family. Same as me.” Quen didn’t want to cry, but thinking about the injustice of it all brought hot tears. Her hands were tight fists at her sides.
To Quen’s surprise, tears swelled in Pelagia’s eyes as well. “You are correct, Doj’Anira. Nivi is a rare beast and brought here from Tinox under the Exalted’s order, as were you. It is not my law, Quen. I am but a spoke in the great wheel. My full purpose is unknown even to me.”
Pelagia’s sentiment seemed sincere, but Quen wasn’t convinced she could trust the woman. The vision of Caz and Luz’s nubs where tongues used to be made her wary. Besides, Nivi’s venom toward the woman was unmistakable. Quen trusted the tiger more than she trusted a person who adorned herself with the bones and skins of others.
“Now is not the time for this conversation. Hem will escort you back to your chambers.”
Quen was glad to be free of Pelagia’s company for a while. The way she wavered between honeyed sweetness and unripe bitterness made Quen nervous.
“Do not dally. Caz and Luz await you.” She called back over her shoulder, “And I will stop by your chamber before we leave to ensure the twins have properly prepared you.”
Quen called after her, “How can women without tongues or the ability to speak properly prepare me for an audience with the Exalted?”
Pelagia stopped, and it looked as though she’d turn and answer. Instead, she resumed walking and acted as though she hadn’t heard the question.
Quen knelt once more and held Nivi’s face in her hands. “You belong in a cage no more than I, Nivi.” His braided beard jingled sweetly as she petted him. “I promise you this. If I find a way out of this mess, I will come for you.” She hoped she could keep this promise.
• • •
Hem escorted her through the palace’s maze of corridors and guarded the door to her room. Once inside, Luz was filling the bath with warm water while Caz poured in the scented oil. I just bathed yesterday. She’d never bathed two days in a row. “I suppose she told you to spiff me up, like a prized drey going to market.” Her voice held a bitter edge.
Luz gestured to the bath and gave her a wan smile. The two women scrubbed Quen like a dirty tuber freshly plucked from the ground. They worked a lovely spice-scented oil into her hair and rolled it onto large bone rollers.
When they’d finished scraping away any lingering bit of Sulmére sand, they gently lifted her from the bath and wrapped her in a luxuriant robe of fluffy, baby-soft wool. Luz showed her to a seat, Quen’s eyes drowsy from the warm bath.
While her hair dried, Caz worked on her face. People in the Sulmére didn’t wear face paint. Caz used what looked like charcoal to draw lines above Quen’s lashes. Caz took a small shallow footed bowl from her apron. She wet her pinky finger with a dab of water and rubbed it along the lip of the shallow bowl. Her finger turned dark red, and Caz wiped the color onto Quen’s lips.
Once her face had been painted, Luz indicated she should get up, and Caz removed the cozy robe. Quen stood naked, her nipples hardened from the chilly air. Since the two women had attended to her every need, from serving her breakfast to cleaning her chamber pot, she was less inhibited than she’d been the day before, and she didn’t cover herself.
Luz produced a dress of turquoise and aubergine silk. A tiny braid of silk secured the dress at the shoulders. The fitted turquoise bodice wrapped from the sides with a gauzy drape of purple silk flowing into a loose skirt, bits of turquoise silk showing through from underneath. Caz motioned for Quen to raise her arms so she could slide the dress on over her head. She did so, but Luz being at least a head shorter than her, there was no way she could reach over Quen’s head.
“Give it to me. I can dress myself.”
Luz hesitated and glanced behind to see if anyone was watching.
Quen held her hands out. “I’ve been dressing myself since I was a child.”
The woman finally relinquished the dress. Quen shimmied into it and accidentally put her arm through one loop of silk that wound around from back to front, meeting at the waist. Okay, so I did need help. She’d never worn such a complicated garment. Quen righted the wrong and finally got the dress on correctly.
It fit like the silk undergarments her father had gifted her. Snug against her body, yet not constricting. She twirled around, enjoying the feel of the whisper-thin silk on her bare legs.
Caz motioned for her to look in the mirror. Quen gasped, barely recognizing the young woman in the glass.
Black kohl drew attention to the two distinctly different colors of her eyes. The dress fit like someone had made it from a mold of her body. Like fashions she’d seen in Qülla, the neckline was cut low enough to show nearly her entire tiny breasts, stopping above her nipples. Fabric draping from the sides made her waist appear even smaller, and the long, loose folds to her ankle made her look even taller.
If Pahpi saw me dressed like this, he’d probably throw a poncho over me. She smiled at the thought. Quen enjoyed seeing herself this way and hated that she liked it.
Luz presented her with a pair of silk slippers dyed to match the lavender of the dress’s skirt and escorted her back to the chair. The two women unwound her hair from the bone rollers and brushed it through only once, her hair now nearly dry and slightly fuller as it flowed down her shoulders and back.
The door swung open, and Pelagia burst in, clattering as she walked. “Ah, good work.” She waved her hand to dismiss the two.
Caz and Luz bowed their heads, lowered their eyes, and made their way from Quen’s chambers. As they left, loneliness overcame her. Even silent companions are preferable to the chattering noise of my thoughts.
Quen was about to rise, but Pelagia said, “Stay put for a moment. I have something for you.”
At first, Quen thought Pelagia’s dress was creamy white embroidered silk. When Pelagia got closer, Quen realized the dress was made of teeth and bone, not fabric. The collar was an animal’s vertebral column. The rest of the gown was constructed of tightly fitted row upon row of polished shark’s teeth. As Pelagia moved, light shone off the polished teeth, making the ensemble glimmer. Tiny animal skulls covered her shoulders, giving the appearance of pauldrons.
Topping the ensemble, Pelagia wore the most elaborate headdress Quen had yet seen. Tiny pink, creamy white, and gold shells flowed from a small animal skull, forming a crown across her forehead. From the crown of skull and shells flowed a train of feathers. At the top of her head, the feathers were fluffy and snow white. As the train progressed down her back, the feathers became creamy white, golden brown and finally mutated through neutral colors. At the small of her back, the train ended in black feathers. Pelagia was both a walking vision of loveliness and a harbinger of death.
Pelagia carried a small brown velvet box. Her eyes twinkled as she opened it, revealing two lustrous gold ear cuffs. Pelagia removed a cuff and swept Quen’s hair aside.
The draft on her neck made Quen’s skin goose-pimpled. Pelagia’s thin fingers were like ice as she wrapped the gold cuff around Quen’s upper ear. She put the other gold band on the opposite ear.
Pelagia stood back a few paces and smiled. “You look lovely, dune blossom.”
The cuffs pinched, and Quen tugged at her ear. “I’m not used to wearing jewelry.” Her ears were hot under the bands. “Is this a fashion in Qülla, gold cuffs like these?”
“As a Doj’Anira, the bands befit your station.” Pelagia brushed stray hair from Quen’s eye. “Ah, now you are ready to meet the Exalted. I know what Xa’Vatra wants.”
Quen met her gaze. “And you give it to her?”
Pelagia moved closer, the teeth of her dress rattling as she moved. Their faces nearly touched now. It was unsettling to have Pelagia within her intimate space.
“It is wise to give the Exalted exactly what she demands.” Pelagia ran the back of her hand down Quen’s bare arm. She moved her face closer, her lips at Quen’s ear, the cold shark’s teeth up against the skin of Quen’s nearly naked chest. She whispered into Quen’s ear. “Terrible things happen to people who do not know their place in this Dynasty.”
Molten tightness seized Quen’s core, but not in the same way it had when Aldewin touched her. Pelagia’s caress brought fear, not excited anticipation. I can never feel affection for a woman who presides over a palace of unwilling captives, their lives subject to her whim.
Pelagia remained close, looking intently first at one of Quen’s eyes, then the other. “If you were not Doj’Anira, I should like to have you for my own.” Her voice was low and husky. Pelagia momentarily hovered near Quen, then pulled herself away with a sigh.
“Have me for your own?” Quen spat the words. “I’m a person, not a dreyskin to be traded at market.”
Pelagia laughed. “Sulmére child. Such innocence.” She grazed Quen’s chin with a long, thin finger.
Quen jerked her face away.
Pelagia’s eyes darkened, and her voice was a low whisper. “You have much to learn about life outside the sands.”
“Maybe I don’t want to learn.” Qüllanians are bound by silly customs and subject to the Exalted’s whims. I’d never trade Jagaru freedom for silken luxury or an overstuffed bed.
“Xa’Vatra, the Sixth Exalted of the Kovan Era, has choice. You do not. In fact, no one else has free will. We live only to serve her.”
“You’re in a sadder state than I am,” Quen said.
Pelagia raised her eyebrows. “How so, dune blossom?”
“The Dynasty forced me into bondage. You chose it.”
Pelagia laughed again, throwing her head back, her voice echoing off the tiles. “You still live by the illusion of options. So be it. Soon enough, you will learn what little choice anyone truly has.”
