Dragon and Phoenix (46 page)

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Authors: Joanne Bertin

BOOK: Dragon and Phoenix
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He told her of the many little scandals that were the underlife of the court and made her laugh. Then, taking a deep breath, he quietly gave the news that Yesuin’s father, old Oduin, who had been temur of the Zharmatians for as long as anyone could remember, was rumored to be gravely ill, even dying.
Shei-Luin went very still. She knew what that meant. “If Oduin dies, then Yemal leads the tribes.” Fear wove a cold knot in her stomach. Yemal free upon the Western Plains, fretting at the treaty forced upon the Zharmatians in his father’s time. Yesuin here in the palace, hostage to that same treaty—and no love lost between the brothers. All that stood between them was their dying father. “Yemal will break the treaty.”
Of what use is a hostage then?
Shei-Luin’s mind said.
Yesuin will be
—She could not say the words even in her mind. They hung on the air like an executioner’s spear and pierced her heart.
“But there may be worse, Lady,” said Murohshei.
Shei-Luin could only stare; what could be worse than a threat to Yesuin’s life?
The eunuch took the empty teacup from her cold hands. “Do you remember the Lady Nama, Favored One?”
Shei-Luin frowned, thinking. “Ah, yes; the niece that Jhanun foisted upon Xiane for a concubine. A pretty little thing with the heart of a rabbit. What about her?”
Murohshei met her eyes. “She’s with child. It was confirmed this morning.”
“That’s impossible!” Shei-Luin blurted. “Xiane cannot father a child!”
She stopped. No, Xiane couldn’t father a child. At least that was how she interpreted the prophecy that had brought Lura-Sharal and her to the palace: only her sister could bear a child by Xiane. Her mind darted back to the feast of Lady Riya-Akono. Jhanun must have guessed her secret that day, and decided her game could be played by two; she would never believe that little rabbit would have had the nerve to seek out a lover on her own—not with the punishments awaiting an unfaithful concubine. Likely Nama’s uncle had forced some Zharmatian, captured just for this purpose, upon her. Shei-Luin wondered if the poor wretch’s body would ever be found now that his job was done.
And the crowning irony was that she couldn’t denounce the girl, not without giving herself and her own children away. No, she and Jhanun would dance around each other, each keeping the other’s secret though it was bitter as bile.
Shei-Luin clenched her teeth in frustration. Remembering how she had been guarded throughout her pregnancies, she knew it would be impossible to do anything to Nama—soon to be Nama noh Jhi.
Yet she had to. While she had been the only one to bear an heir to the Phoenix Throne, there had been no question of who might wear the robes of the empress someday. But now, if Nama bore a son …
What contest would there be between a woman of one of the great noble houses and the daughter of an exile? A daughter born, no less, of a Zharmatian concubine.
Already many of the ministers feared her for her influence on Xiane. If she—and her sons—became expendable, and the ministers supported Jhanun …
I will kill Nama,
Shei-Luin swore.
For the sake of my children, I will kill her and her babe with her.
 
“Hurry!” Captain Okaril bellowed. “We need to make this tide!”
“All’s ready!” Linden yelled back from the hold. “The horses are settled.”
Okaril’s face disappeared from the open hatch. “Cast off!”
Linden heard a flurry of activity from the deck. Then he felt the current catch the ship, felt it slip away from the dock.
They were on their way to Jehanglan at last.
Maurynna stood with Linden by
the railing of the ship, looking into the night sky. For once the mysterious fogs that swept across the straits had dissipated. The creaking of canvas and the slap of waves against the hull filled the darkness around her. Linden must have sensed her mood, for he said nothing, just watched the black water as the ship knifed through it.
Once she’d stood like this on the deck of her own ship, studying the stars, reckoning a course. But tonight that responsibility was someone else’s. For the first time, she was glad of it. She had no idea where they were.
There were constellations that she’d never seen before on the horizon ahead; she wondered, if they sailed south long enough, would these strange stars take the sky, chasing away the ones she knew from childhood? Already the figure of the Sky Sisters was half lost beneath the northern skyline. Would
everything
in this strange land be alien to her?
A sudden rush of longing to see Dragonskeep again took her. Unable to bear the strangeness any longer, she said, “Let’s go below.”
She caught Linden’s hand as they went down to the cabin they shared with Lleld and Jekkanadar, and wished this was over.
 
The next morning, there was nothing in the water that Linden could see, no reefs or rocks, yet the ship took another unexplained tack, this time heading to—Damn—which was it? Port, that was it. Left was port. He leaned on the rail and looked down into the blue water rushing past, and thought he’d have to tell Maurynna he’d finally remembered.
Lleld joined him on the rail. Her red curls blew in the wind; she pushed them back when they fell in her face.
“We’ve changed course again,” she said. “Was there anything there this time?”
“No,” Linden said, “not that I can tell in this damned mist that keeps blowing around us, anyway. I wonder if that odd globe Captain Okaril has guides him despite this fog? Maurynna said last night she’d not care to try this dodging about when she couldn’t see. Seemed to raise her hackles, it did.”
Lleld pushed a handful of curls back from her face once more, then grabbed a few of them and tugged, considering his words. “I’ll wager anything you’re right,” she said at last. “Did she get a good look at that globe thing? The captain certainly warmed up to her as soon as he realized she knew something of the sea. Clever of her to tell him she had uncles who were sailors.”
“It’s no more than the truth, after all. And she got a better look than Okaril wanted her to have. He wouldn’t let her too close to the thing, but what’s that to a Dragonlord?” he said with a grin.
Okaril, thinking they were but traveling entertainers, would not allow them any privileges, such as standing on the quarterdeck with him and the steersman. But he’d unbent a little when he’d realized that Maurynna had more than a landsman’s knowledge and appreciation of ships and the sea. So a short while ago he’d allowed Maurynna onto the quarterdeck briefly, but wouldn’t let her anywhere near the mysterious globe that the steersman watched with unnerving intensity. Indeed, when he saw her looking at it, even from across the deck, he’d hurried her from the quarterdeck. As if chastened, she’d gone down belowdecks to their quarters.
He wondered, though, why she’d not mindcalled him yet to tell him what she’d seen. So he reached out to touch her mind, tapping his forehead with the two middle fingers of one hand to let Lleld know what he did. When Maurynna answered him, she sounded worried.
What is it, love?
he asked, letting Lleld “listen” in.
That blasted cough Otter picked up in the inn is worse. He has a fever now, Raven says, and we’ve no medicine.
Damn, Linden thought to himself. That wasn’t good.
Maurynna went on,
Taren says that when we make Jedjieh, he can find an herbalist and get something for him. But until then, the best we can do is make him comfortable.
Lleld broke in.
Find Jekkanadar and ask him if Fiaran gave him any useful herbs. We usually take some simple things like willow bark and dried mint when we travel. If we’re lucky, there’ll be some sweet elm bark in there as well. That’s good for coughs.
I’ll do that right now,
Maurynna said and withdrew.
It took Linden a few moments before he realized he’d never asked about the mysterious globe. But that could wait until later. He stared out once more into the thick mist that had descended upon them two days out of Assantik and had stayed with them ever since. No matter what Taren said about there being no magic in Jehanglan, this fog had the feel of magery about it.
Then all thoughts of mist and magery were driven from his mind by two words shouted down from the crow’s nest.
“Land ho!”
As he looked, the mist parted, and before him lay the land of Jehanglan.
 
 
Shima sat at the foot of Zhantse’s pallet, tapping a soft, hypnotic rhythm on the drum he held between his knees. His younger brother, Tefira, Zhantse’s apprentice, sat at the head, making certain that the dried twists of sweet grass in their little clay bowls on either side of him kept burning.
He watched the rise and fall of his master’s chest. Most times a Seeing came upon Zhantse unbidden. Other times—such as now—the Tah’hsieh shaman went into trance to seek them. There was a tingling in the air this night, and Shima knew that Zhantse had found something, if not what he sought.
Then the twin curls of white smoke from the bowls of sweet grass swayed though there was no breeze, and the rhythm of the shaman’s breathing changed, becoming lighter and more rapid. Zhantse was close to waking.
His head turned from side to side, and he mumbled like a man talking in his sleep. By degrees, Shima changed the pattern he tapped out, then stopped. He shook his hand to loosen fingers and wrist. Tefira picked up the bowls of smoking sweet grass and took them outside. A moment later he came back in and, taking a gourd dipper from its hook on the stone wall, scooped up some water from the big glazed jar near the door and brought it to the bed.
Zhantse pushed himself up onto his elbows. “Feh,” he said, making a face. “That was not an easy one.” He drank the water.
“Did you find Pah-Ko?” Shima asked.
Zhantse looked troubled. “No. I sense something worries him, but not what. But while I was in the Grey Lands, I Saw Amura sneaking out to meet Nathua.”
Shima perked up at that. Amura was one of his cousins, and one of the many Tah’ehsieh who had slipped into the slave camp at the Iron Temple over the centuries to explore and map the caverns and tunnels beneath Mount Kajhenral. “Oh?”
“It’s done.”
Simple words to mean so much. Shima caught his breath and knew his brother did the same.
“The map? The map is done at last?” Tefira said.
The shaman sat up. “It is, indeed. I will turn it into a chant to be memorized.”
Said Shima, “Then that means—” He couldn’t finish.
“That the time of the prophecy is upon us. Now we await the one from the north.”
 
The skies turned dark with storm clouds as they made port. Linden looked up at the threatening clouds and wondered if this was somehow also the work of the Jehangli priestmages, or just more bad luck. He hoped it would hold off until they had the horses unloaded, for the wretched official who met the ship at the dock wouldn’t allow the others to take Otter on to the hostel that foreign entertainers were assigned to.
“No, no,” the Jehangli insisted in wretched Assantikkan. “All stay together. Not ahead does anyone travel. All stay together—is order.”
Their luck held until Taren’s gelding—the last horse—was lifted from the hold. Then the skies opened up and the rain crashed down upon them.
“By the gods!” Lleld complained as she led Miki up the street. “Did someone up there kick over a giant’s bath? This keeps up and we’ll all have to grow gills!”
But at last they made the hostel and got Otter inside by a fire. There was another group of northern entertainers huddled by it, including a man with a little monkey on his shoulder, but they made way when they saw Otter’s red cloak and heard him coughing.
After a round of quick introductions, and the other group’s offer to help carry packs upstairs, Taren took Linden and Lleld aside.
“I’m off to look for something for that cough,” he whispered. “Quala root, if I can find it. May take a while, though. Not all the herbalists carry it.”
“Are you certain? It’s pouring out there, and that officious bastard warned us to stay in here,” Lleld said.
Taren winked and gave them a conspirator’s smile. “I’ll borrow something to wear from the porter—he’ll be willing to look the other way for a bit of coin. And don’t worry about me; I know my way around Jehangli cities. But remember—don’t leave the hostel yourselves! It’s forbidden at night.”
With that, he slipped out of the common room. Linden and Lleld looked at each other and shrugged.
“Unlike us, he does know Jehanglan,” Lleld said.
“So he does,” Linden agreed. “Let’s see to Otter and find out more about our fellow entertainers.”
 
Shei-Luin smiled to herself as she slipped through the tunnels of the palace. The Phoenix smiled upon her this night! Xiane gone away hunting, and Yesuin left behind.
Soon she would be with him once more … .
Her heart raced like a maiden’s on her wedding night as she turned into the tunnel that led to Yesuin’s chamber. Light streamed through the peephole from his room; he was still awake!
But as she neared the secret door, her footsteps slowed. Voices—Yesuin was not alone. Her disappointment sitting like a stone in her stomach, Shei-Luin crept up to the nearest peephole and peered through.
Yesuin sat bent over a game of
ulim-choi.
Opposite him was one of the many young lords of the Jehangli court. By the number of pieces still on the board, she knew that they had just begun, and that with skilled players, a game could easily last half the night.
She turned away and retreated down the tunnel, holding back her tears by will alone.

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