Misery's Child (The Cadian Chronicles) (28 page)

“I’ve never seen
more sour-looking old men,” Marta whispered to Tomack. “They all look as if
someone stuck a lemon up their arses.”

Tomack barked with
laughter before his father shot a glance in their direction. Marta thought with
some amusement that Danaus and Ersala were cut from similar cloth when it came
to their offspring, always frowning and reproving. It made her feel strangely
tender towards Tomack and she squeezed his hand.

Finally, the
Guardians of Omana Teret came marching down the steps. They wore splendid
uniforms of purple, tunics embroidered with the Shallanie crest, and golden
helmets that sent the sun winking in all directions.

“Look!” Marta
whispered excitedly to Tomack. “The man in front, the one with the
sword—that’s Bastrop of Tira, he’s a friend of my father’s.”

Behind the corps
came the shallan himself. The old man was propped up in an ornately carved
chair carried on poles by four brawny soldiers. Four more soldiers carried the
poles of the blue canopy that gusted above, shielding the shallan from the
harshness of the sun.

The hairs on the
back of Marta’s neck prickled. This was the first time she’d actually seen the
shallan.

The old man’s
hands gripped the arms of his chair as if sheer will kept him upright in the
seat. His blue robes puddled about him, as if only a skeleton was hidden
underneath. He might have been a waxen figure except for the viciously alert
eyes that moved in the hollows of his face.

“Sweet Mother,
I’ve seen healthier looking corpses,” Tomack breathed in her ear. “Imagine
wasting a delicious tart like your sister on that.”

She was too queasy
to be angry with Tomack for his vulgarity. Her stomach rolled and a sudden
panic tore through her mind.

Dear Mother, don’t let it be Lillitha. Don’t let
them choose her.

 
But it was already too late.

***

Lillitha had no
idea how she got through the ceremony. She merely put one foot in front of the
other and followed where she was lead, sat where she was told to sit, stood
where she was told to stand.

It was over, all
over. Her life, her dreams, her love.... Every bit of it, shattered.

The cheers of the
crowd as she was called forward and draped with the ceremonial garlands still
roared in her ears. She vaguely remembered Iafrewn clasping her hands and
kissing her cheek with some kind of idiotic happiness, and Osane saying a
prayer over her as she knelt before the shallan.

Lendenican took
her hand and led her down the steps into the aisle, where her mother and father
waited to join the processional back through the streets of the White City.
Tradition dictated that the new shallana breda walk through the throngs of the
faithful, who cheered and wept while they reached out to touch her robes as if
the very fabric held some blessing.

She would spend a
final night in her tent in meditation and prayer, Lendenican told her, as if
she did not already know this. How long had she studied the rites, preparing for
just this moment? She was not allowed to eat or sleep during her vigil. At
dawn, she would put on the deep green burlang that had magically appeared on
her cot. Green, symbolizing the fertility of mother earth.

Lillitha
shuddered.

In the morning,
her father and mother would walk with her to the Bridge of Omana Teret, where
Dedre Osane would be waiting to welcome
her
.

Bitter tears,
unshed, choked her speech, so that she only nodded as Lendenican bid her
farewell.

 
As soon as the techa was gone, Lillitha began
to shake, sobbing silently. She wound her arms about her, hugging herself
tightly as if to still the tremors.
 

Mother Leah, I know I have no right to ask for
your help, but I am alone and frightened and I do not know what to do. I’ve
made a dreadful mistake. I should never have taken this path. I’m not fit to be
shallana. I’m not even fit to be cadia. Have pity on me....

She watched the
first candle burn as the same silent prayer rolled over and over again in her
head. Her knees began to ache but she welcomed the pain. It was almost pleasant
to feel a pain that she had the power to end by merely shifting her position.

She was tired and
sick at heart. Surely she had not spent a lifetime preparing for this. Why had
she been so stupid? Yanna had tried to tell her but still she’d clung to
ridiculous illusions. Shallan Varden was no kindly old man who would kiss her
on the forehead like a grandfather; he was death and decay personified, reeking
with sickness and obsession. She thought again of the emotions she’d gotten
from him, that frightening onslaught of feelings completely unlike anything
she’d ever known. She could still taste them, bitter and coppery, like bile and
blood on her tongue.

When the first
candle sputtered, she used it to light the second. She did not even feel the
hot wax drip on her hand. She looked at the three other candles waiting for
their turn.

When the fifth
burned out, the night would be over, and she would be shallana
breda
.

Sweet Mother.... What am I going to do?
If only Yanna was here
;
she’d know whether there was any way to stop this.

She thought of
what Yanna would say. Would she tell her again to listen to that small, still
voice in her heart? But that voice could only whisper:
Run
.

“I’m her sister,”
she heard Marta’s voice insisting outside the tent. “I am allowed to see her. I
asked Cadia Lendenican’s permission. You can ask her yourself if you don’t
believe me.”

Lillitha jumped to
her feet and listened. Her sister’s voice sounded thick, as if she’d caught a
sudden cold. Impossible to imagine that Marta was the only one she could turn
to.

“Damn you,” Marta
whispered in a choked voice as she pushed the tent flap aside and advanced into
the room. “Stop your blubbering, I can’t stand it!”

A small stab of
guilt found its way inside Lillitha’s pain. Her sister looked terrible, her
eyes swollen and her nose raw.

“I’m supposed to
be celebrating my betrothal out there, but thanks to you, I can’t stop crying.
Oh, it hurts! Can’t you stop it?”

“Please,
please....” Lilli grabbed her sister’s hand, her nails digging into flesh.
“You’ve got to help me! I cannot do this! I cannot!”

Lillitha clung to
her as if she were drowning.

“Stop it, Lilli.
Stop it, you’re hurting me—”

“I’ll kill myself
before they make me wed that monster, I swear I will!” As she uttered the words
she knew she meant them. She’d rather die than go through with this charade.

She saw Marta
shudder and knew she was wondering that if Lillitha’s grief hurt her this much,
what would her death do to her?

“By the beard, you
are mad.” Marta pushed roughly, knocking her to the ground. “I ought to kill
you myself, you miserable, puling baby!”

“I know I’m weak,
I know you must despise me,” Lillitha whispered lowly, her voice tripping too
quickly over herself. “But there’s a way, if you’d just help me. I swear before
Oman I’ll never ask another thing of you for as long as I live, I’ll do
anything...anything at all—”

“There’s nothing
you can give me if you aren’t the shallana
breda
!
Don’t you know my dowry depends on you? Can’t you think of anyone but
yourself?”

“If I marry
Scearce I can give you whatever you want, don’t you see? I’ll give you a dowry
fit for a queen if only you’ll help me get out of here!”

Marta stared at
her, but the idea that was forming in Lillitha’s mind was so simple she could
hardly keep from laughing with relief.

Marta rubbed at
her nose with the back of her hand, glaring open-mouthed at her.

“Don’t you see?”
Lillitha continued, practically giddy.
“I’ll just leave.
I’ll find Scearce and we’ll be married before anyone even knows we’re
gone—”

“You can’t just
leave! You’ve just been chosen, Lilli! Do you think you can just walk out of
here, say ‘Oh, so sorry, I’ve changed my mind’? What about
Muma
and Da? What about them?”

“It will be all
right. I’ll explain and they’ll understand that I love
Scearce
,
and I can do just as much for them as Scearce’s wife as I could as shallana
breda
! And I don’t care what anyone else thinks. There are
six other girls out there who would gladly take my place, let them choose one
of them. Let the shallan be angry, let the damned cadia hate me, I don’t care!
I won’t do this! I tell you, I won’t!”

Marta’s lips
tightened. “You are mad if you think you can just walk out of this tent past
the sentinels—”

“I could if I were
wearing your dress and you stayed here the rest of the night wearing my
robes.... No one will come in here to check, not tonight.”

“I won’t let you
do this. I can’t. I don’t give a tinker’s damn about the scriving shallan and
that whole lot of Omana Teret but I won’t be part of this crazy idea of
yours—”

Lillitha closed
her eyes. In her mind, she gathered all her sorrow and pushed it towards her
sister. She hated herself for doing it, wasn’t even sure it would work—

Marta suddenly
crumbled to her knees, holding her head in both hands. Her breath came in short
bursts and her eyes, blinded by pain,
rolled
up to
Lillitha’s.

“Stop it!” Marta
gasped. “Whatever you’re doing to me, stop it,
please—
”

“Then help me or
before Oman I’ll keep dumping my pain into you until you are as mad as I
am—”

“All right!
All right!
I’ll do it!”

Lillitha pulled
the pain back into herself. With it she felt Marta’s hatred, so strong she
nearly staggered.

“You just
understand one thing,” Marta panted as she began to undress. “I’m not doing
this out of love or pity or even the pain you just inflicted on me. I’m doing
it because if you don’t leave, I may kill you myself.”

Marta met her
sister’s eyes.

“I hate you for
this, Lilli. You remember that.”

***

It was fate.
Nothing else would explain it.

She walked right
past the sentinel outside her tent, past the dying campfires and through the
gates of the encampment without anyone even sparing her a second glance. As she
suspected, no one could fathom the idea of a consecrated shallana
breda
simply walking away.

She took care to
be quiet, though, listening to the sounds of distant voices carried on the
breeze. Her heart pounded at her own audacity. Perhaps Marta was right and she
was mad. She no longer cared. It calmed her somewhat to be alone in the warm night,
unobserved, no eyes prying inside her head, no voices murmuring compliments or
questions.

She sank to her
knees in the dewy grass and raised her head to the stars.

 
Let me
find Scearce, please. Yanna told me that love is never wrong, that by loving another
we know Oman and life is reborn... Help me, Mother. I beg you.

Marta had told her
where to find Scearce, but again fate stepped in and made a search unnecessary.
He’d been waiting outside the encampment as if he’d known she would come.

“I’ve been sitting
here every night,” he said, “just hoping to get a glimpse of you.”

“Scearce? Oh, is
it really you?”
 
She thought she had
no tears left, but water sprang to her eyes, only this time born of happiness
as Scearce’s voice answered. She was lost all over again as he rained kisses on
her cheeks and forehead.

“Just one word
from you,” he whispered, cupping her face in his hands. “Just one word and I’ll
do whatever you ask. We can leave tonight and be halfway to Jeptalla before
anyone even knows you’re gone.”

“I’ll go to
Jeptalla or the ends of the earth with you. I’ve loved you since I was seven
summers, didn’t you know that?”

She felt his
happiness surging. Yes, yes! This was love. Let Oman and the cadia rot in their
glowing island tomb of false light, she was alive and in love. His lips found
hers in the darkness and it seemed as though she would melt where she stood.

“Sweet mother, you
taste like honey,” he breathed. “I could live the rest of my life on your
kisses—”

He kissed her
again, parting her lips this time with his tongue. His hunger burned through
her mouth and down into her belly, then further still into the part of her
where life waited to be born. She pulled away, shaking.

He was apologizing
but she laid a finger gently on his lips. “We don’t have much time. Just tell
me that you love me and that everything will be all right.”

“Yes, yes...a
thousand times yes! I love you, Lillitha. And I will make everything all right,
even if I have to fight a thousand battles to make it so.”