Endurance (10 page)

Kohlmann bowed. I whispered, “Don't fall for it,” but he ignored me. Standing straight again, he smiled. “I am blessed by your house,” he said in bad Seliu. Then, in Petraean, “I would be pleased to take wine with you, great Prince.”

Mother Vajpai stepped forward. In a voice straining with memorization, she said in Petraean I knew she did not speak, “I would see my old student.” Someone behind her hissed. She added, “Awhile.”

I turned toward the front door. Kohlmann caught at my arm, nearly earning a deep stab for his troubles. “This is my game,” he growled quietly. “Play it my way. They will not kill you while I am present. And I will not leave without you.”

Though I desperately wanted to ask the man what he would
do
if my old mistress simply refused to release me, I held my tongue. Unless the Rectifier was in the city, no one in Copper Downs could take down Mother Vajpai in a straight fight. I knew this because no one in this place but the Rectifier could take
me
down in a straight fight, and
I
was afraid of Mother Vajpai.

“We will speak of this later,” I said, matching his growl with my own. Stepping forward, I let a smile slip on to my face. It was not entirely a lie—I had always respected Mother Vajpai, and liked her even, while never finding reason to believe the affection was not mutual. I understood even then that my banishment had not been engineered for petty personal reasons. The opposite, in truth, given the pressure for arranging my death or turning me out to the dubious justice of the Bittern Court.

And
that
smarmy bitch gave me a sweet, gleeful smile over Mother Vajpai's shoulder as my old teacher swept me into a hug. This raised my hackles as surely as a bared blade would have done. She'd never hugged me before in my life. “Have a care, Green,” Mother Vajpai whispered. She took me by the hand and led me toward a side chamber, away from the entrance, away from Loren Kohlmann, away from all the freedom and independence of my exile.

I almost balked again, except a door ahead of me swung open and Samma stepped forth to usher me onward.

Samma.

I stopped, heart pounding. My mouth ran dry. My hands shook.

Samma. Dark-haired, doe-eyed, sharp-faced, and as always slightly contrary of expression. My very first lover, ever. Closest to my heart for the better part of a year in the Temple of the Silver Lily. Fellow aspirant, and now a Blade, or so I presumed.

Doubting every step, I turned toward her, and allowed myself to be taken away from the man who'd promised to guarantee my safety here among the leaders of my own people.

*   *   *

We perched on a Pilean Era settee. Armless, low-backed, covered in a thick silk brocade that would irritate bared skin, it was a piece of furniture designed for short, intimate conversations without the temptations of further dalliance. The room was likewise, a small parlor off the great hall where people were intended to meet to seal bargains or make arrangements. Narrow paintings lined the paneled walls, while two equally narrow windows opened into the shadows of the lawn to the south—cues of architecture and design intended to push the occupants to discomfort.

All of this was apropos to my being here. Short, intimate, without the temptation of further dalliance. “What are you about?” I hissed to both of them.

Mother Vajpai spoke first, as she always had and probably always would. “The Lily Goddess has sent us for you, Green.”

“No.” I let myself sound cross. “That woman outside, from the Bittern Court. She has longed for my heartsblood for a year now. If you came at the Lily Goddess' behest, she would not be among you.”

“Surali,” said Samma unexpectedly. “Her name is Surali. And she's not so bad.”

“Samma.” Mother Vajpai's voice held a warning tone.

“She has a right to
know
!” Samma blurted, then cowered back, overwhelmed at her own temerity in speaking.
Such classic Samma,
I thought. Never quite the nerve to stand up for what needs standing up for. She had sufficient conscience, but not the courage to act.

“You will be silent.” This time Mother Vajpai's voice was much more severe. Then, back to me, “You are wanted at home. The Temple Mother has passed away, as has Mother Meiko. There is much disruption among all our orders. The purpose for your exile no longer applies. I hear you have vanquished the danger she had concerned herself with.” A smile, as genuine as anything else this very controlled woman ever did. “We need you, Green.”

All my careful thought, my planning, my sense of politics—it all slid away in the face of this woman who had almost been a mother to me in her way. “Who do you need?” I asked nastily. “Green the killer, who couldn't be trusted? Green the goddess-touched, who wouldn't cooperate with the priestesses? Green the obsessed, who roamed the docks looking for child traders? Or perhaps Green the sensual, fucking every woman in the temple who would hold still long enough!?”

My voice had risen at the last, and the crude obscenity caught at her, as I'd known it would.

Her voice was as sorrowful as her face. “We need Green, who had grown to be heart to all the Blades, though we did not understand that until after we had let you slip away.”

I was forced to remind myself that Mother Vajpai always maintained absolute control of herself. The emotion was a weapon surely as any spinning kick or hand strike. Seizing my own will, I replied, “You did not let me go. You drove me away. Because of your friend out there.
Surali.
If you find me ungrateful or suspicious, you might inquire of her as to why.”

Mother Vajpai sighed. I watched Samma carefully out of the corner of my eye. If they were playing with me, she would betray the game. And my old lover did look nervous. She flexed her hands, as she always did before a sparring match.

So this is how it is to be.

Still, I could not bring myself to strike first.

Mother Vajpai began to speak again, but I interrupted her. “It is time for me to leave. I have soldiers waiting.” Let her wonder about
that
. Lily Blades were famously fierce fighters, but we were never expected to stand against men-at-arms in battle formation. That training for us would have been too much for the Street Guild and the other swordsmen of Kalimpura to stomach.

“This is the will of the Lily Goddess, Green,” Mother Vajpai said sternly. Her tone of voice struck deep in me. Had I been raised from birth within the Temple of the Silver Lily, as Samma was, and most of the other Blade aspirants were, it might have disarmed me as readily as a spin-kick to the side of the knee.

As it was, she just renewed my anger. My hand brushed my abdomen. “I know what happens to children there, Mother. I know what happened to
me
.”

“Copper Downs happened to you,” snapped Mother Vajpai. Her eyes widened as she grasped the significance of my touch. “Ah … Do not bring a child into the world here.”

“Now we know—” Samma began, but Mother Vajpai hushed her with an urgent hand motion.

Now we know what?

Now we know it is time to leave, before more of this game is given away.

It was a mistake to have met privately with them. I could only give thanks to the Lily Goddess that they did not have Mother Argai or another experienced Blade in here. These two I might be able to escape, though I could not hope to best them.

I should not have been surprised at such a betrayal from Mother Vajpai, but Samma …

With that thought, I turned toward the door.

“Green.” The commanding voice again, shifting slightly as she moved. “The Lily Goddess commands this.”

I feinted toward the door's latch, saying, “The Lily Goddess…” But I was already in motion. A swift spin on my right heel, half a step, a three-fingered jab to Samma's abdomen to bring her to her knees for a crucial moment.

Mother Vajpai had taken the bait. She crashed into the door I'd just been touching, then came off it again with that preternatural speed I'd always respected and feared in her. By then I was up on the window ledge, swinging a cast-iron lamp base at the mullioned glass. I followed it through in a squeeze so tight the jagged edges tore my robes. My bundle of leathers and belled silk flew free, while the short knives I had tucked within bounced into a bed of peonies just below the window.

I jumped after them even as Samma began to shriek.

Mother Vajpai was quicker, and could either see through walls or knew me
very
well. Possibly both. She was already in a leaping kick when she cleared the window casing, trailing shards of glass in a glittering fog. I stood to meet her—no time to reach the long knife at my thigh—and took her lead foot in my shoulder instead of my neck or chest.

That spun me around with a crack that sounded like a broken bone. I rolled into a cartwheel and came to my feet on the graveled path beyond the peonies. Mother Vajpai was after me again, this time with
my
long knife in her hands. I had not even seen her draw it from my scabbard. And I'd never fought her without rules.

No rules?

I stepped into the sweep of the blade, let it score my left biceps, and slammed my head into the hollow at the base of her throat. Then I bit her, digging my teeth in over the pulsing artery.

She had the wrong knife now. One of the short knives she could have reversed, and simply stabbed me. Instead Mother Vajpai was forced to club my left shoulder from behind with the hilt. I felt her blood bloom hot and salty in my mouth and my fingers scrabbled at her short hair, trying to force her head back.

“Halt!” shouted someone in Petraean. The unmistakable hiss of a crossbow bolt narrowly passed us by.

As if we were sparring she slapped me out. The long knife thudded to the gravel path. Mother Vajpai moved swiftly back three strides, pressing a hand tight over her wounded neck. The spaces where her fingers met were marked with carmine lines like claws.

I nodded to her—the courtesy of the training room was not easily broken, even now—and spun to see Kohlmann standing on the path with a crossbow in his hand. He already had it recocked. Where had he gotten the thing? By the Wheel, the man was both fast
and
strong. I marked that against future need. The Prince's guards were spread out behind him with weapons drawn, while the protocol master looked to be at mortal risk of apoplexy.

Samma stumbled out of the house behind them, her face sick with what might have been regret. Or perhaps just nausea, given where I'd kicked her.

“I believe I am ready to depart,” I told Kohlmann in my most even voice.

The guards looked to the protocol master—
not
to Mother Vajpai, I noticed—who nodded wearily. I turned back to face my old teacher. The vicious glint in her eye nearly sent me away without speaking, but I could not just let loose of this.

“Had you asked me as an equal,” I said softly, “you might have heard a different answer.”

Her reply came as I reached for my scattered knives, abandoned leathers, and belled silk, voice pitched so soft and low that only I could hear it. “I am sorry.”

Walking away from her, Kohlmann kept his body between me and the house. Looking past him, I saw why. The Bittern Court woman—no,
Surali
. Surali stood in the doorway with an expression that could have curdled kava.

She was the key to this drama. What threat had the Bittern Court held over the Temple of the Silver Lily to force all that must have unfolded?

Moot now. I could not afford to care. Not even bothering to meet Samma's eye, I walked down the path with Kohlmann.

“They will not shoot us down,” he said.

That did not deserve any answer whatsoever, so I gave it none. As we passed the gate, he fired the crossbow's next bolt into the trees, then handed the empty weapon to the peacock-guard. Mother Argai gave me a strange look indeed, one that after a moment I deciphered as grudging respect.

“Green,” Kohlmann said as we walked easily back down Ríchard Avenue. By the goddess, this man was a coolheaded one. “We must speak of this as soon as possible. You very nearly launched a war back there.”

“Councilor,” I began as we turned the corner onto Knightspark Street. Out of sight of Mother Argai, I put every ounce of my strength into running. I let the pains in my back and the open wound in my arm and the ache in my shoulder and roiling of the baby and the dissolution of my stomach all pour into the pavement, feet slamming one after the other as the loosened silk jingled. He shouted once, but did not give chase.

I did not care. All I wanted was to be free for a while. Even Below would have been too limiting. So I
ran
. I ran as if the wind were at my heels. I ran as if I
were
the wind. I ran as if my very life depended on it, though blood slicked and stinging, my arms and my back threatened to collapse like poorly handled soufflé.

I ran until I was sick and I ran some more, crossing what seemed like half the city and back again until in my turnings I reached the Temple of Endurance.

*   *   *

The temple was under construction on the grounds of the old minehead in the Velviere District. I'd run so hard and unthinking I'd spiraled around it twice before stopping at the modest gate that had been knocked into the ancient boundary wall. The minehead had originally been walled off without any entrance at all, in order to permanently block the site from the fine homes and buildings surrounding it. I knew the location, but when I'd left Copper Downs, they were still arguing over the size of the hole.

What I saw now as I panted out the hard knot in my gut was a pair of green lacquered pillars standing against the old stone of the protective wall, topped by a crossbar that looked more Hanchu than anything to me. Between the pillars tall oaken doors stood open. Wide enough to drive an oxcart through, I realized.