The Assassins of Tamurin (53 page)

“I have to go home,” I said. “I need to think. Will you forgive me?”

“Of course,” Nirar said, though I could tell she didn’t want to let me go. “But there’s something else I need to tell you. Tomorrow is your birthday.”

“Tomorrow?” Suddenly I had a real birthday, not the false one I'd lived with for so long.

“Yes. We’d hoped to spend it with you, if you wanted to, but now—” She gestured helplessly at the cane chests, packed and ready to go.

“I understand.”

“But when you retum to Kuijain,” she went on hopefully, “will you come and see us? Perhaps we could do it then.” There was a silence as we all remembered Ardavan and the battle that was to come, and that we might lose it. At last I said, “Yes, I will. But in the meantime. I’ll say nothing of this to Terem, because the news should come from your lis, not mine. If he asks where I was tonight. I’ll merely say that this was a courtesy call.”

Ihshan sighed. “For the moment, I agree. But I’ve had too much of secrets. I’ll tell him everything when he comes back to Kurjain. It will be a relief.”

“I’ll help you with him as much as I can,” I said, rising. They took me to the outer court, where my escort waited. In the fhckering light of the flambeaux, Nirar embraced me. “It was Our Lady of Compassion who brought you to Terem and to us,” she said. “There’s no other explanation for it, the way you were lost and the way you’ve been found. Praise the goddess.”

I didn’t know whether to laugh or weep. It was by no divinity’s hand that I was here; it was by the murderous ambition of a woman in Tamurin. But I said, “Praise the goddess,” and kissed her cheek. It was wet and so was mine.

“We’ve hired a watchman for the house,” she told me. “If you want to come back in daylight and see where she grew up, do. We’ll tell him you’re to be admitted and that he’s not to trouble you.”

I thanked them and set out for home. I was so weary that I could hardly put one foot ahead of the other. Everything ran around in my head like a whirlpool of filthy water, choked with offal and drowned corpses, the wreckage of my life. I’d have been better off dying on the Wing with my grandparents, if they were my grandparents.

A sleety rain began to fall as I reached the villa. Terem wasn’t there. I went to bed and wept and wept, and still I did not know what to do.

In the morning I woke and thought:
Today is my birthday.

I’d still been awake when Terem came in, but by then I’d finished crying and pretended I was asleep. I was vaguely aware of hdm rising around dawn, but I drifted off again. Now, full morning sunlight fell through the window and across the bed coverings. The air in the room was cold.

I lay there and thought about all that had happened to me since the last time I awoke. The strangest seemed to be this: that I knew my real birthday and that it was today.

But then doubt crept in. Was this really my birtiiiday? Was it not possible, no matter what Ilishan suspected, that I wasn’t Merihan’s sister after all? I had to be sure. I had to
know.

And it came to me suddenly how I might, just possibly, find out.

I rose and rang the gong. A servant brought me hot water to wash my face and something for my breakfast. I made myself eat the bread and honey and drink some small beer, although I had no appetite. Then I went over to the com-mandery to see what was going on. Hardly anybody was there, and a clerk told me that Ardavan’s vanguard had been sighted some ten miles east of the city. He’d be here by mid-aftemoon, and the Sun Lord and his staff had gone out to move the army into the positions prepared for it.

I left the compound and walked toward Gold Sand Circle. By now everybody in the city would know that the Exiles were at hand, including Dilara, and she’d expect me to tell her Terem’s intentions. I still hadn’t decided what to do about that. Indeed, I felt oddly detached from everything, including myself, as if my awareness had become slightly separated from my body. I was still aware of my pain and sorrow, but they were distant, as though they belonged to someone else.

It was a pleasant late winter day, crisp and sunny, the pud-dies skimmed with ice and crackling under my boots. But the streets were eerily empty. Every window was shuttered, every house gate closed, every market stall barren, every shop sealed tight. Terem had set patrols in the streets to keep order, but they were fewer than yesterday; he’d pulled almost every man into the battle line. A few civihans were about, and some I didn’t like the look of—^thieves, I suspected, sniffing about for places they could loot when night fell. But they left me alone, luckily for them.

It wasn’t long before I was banging on the Aviya gate. After a while the watchman came and peered at me through the spy hole, then let me in. He was a brawny fellow with a short sword at his belt, and greeted me respectfully. I gave him a coin and went on into the inner court, where I entered the house.

It looked different, mainly because it was so much emptier than last night. But as I wandered through its rooms, where some of the furniture stiU remained, I slowly became more and more aware of how familiar it felt. Behind this door should be a writing room, and here it was. At the end of this passage should be a bedroom, and here it was. This covered walk should lead to the kitchen, and it did.

By now I was eerily certain that this was the house I’d seen in those vivid daydreams when I was a child in Riversong. This door, then, should lead to the secret garden.

I went through it onto a veranda, and found what I’d expected to find. Not so secret a place, really, for it was the garden I’d seen though the courtyard arch, the one with the old apple tree. Had there been such a tree in my long-ago reveries? I couldn’t remember. But I knew, somehow, that this was a place Merihan had loved. And today was her birthday, and possibly mine, and one is always closest to one’s family dead on that day. And though Merihan’s body lay in a tomb in far-off Kuijain, might she still hear her sister’s call from the garden that was so dear to her?

I hadn’t tried the ritual for years, not since those two failed attempts in Repose. I didn’t have the incense and the proper sacred objects, and I'd forgotten most of the incantation. All I could do was sit on the bench at the foot of the apple tree and ask her, from the depths of my heart, to come. So I did.

Nothing happened. I was comfortable enough; the day was windless, and the sun was warm in that sheltered place. I'd slept badly and misery had wom me down, but I was alert in a shalQ^, feverish way.

I leaned my back against the rough comfort of the tree and continued to wait. Still nothing happened, and I grew more and more downhearted. If Merihan didn’t appear to me, it would be a strong sign that we weren’t of the same blood after all, which would mean that Galara and Talas weren’t my parents. I didn’t know how I felt about that. It would mean that Mother hadn’t murdered my sister, and that she therefore hadn’t betrayed me after all. Yet I desperately wanted to believe that I’d discovered my family.

But at last I knew it was useless. There was nothing here for me, after all. Above my head, the apple tree’s branches mstled sadly as the wind bmshed them.

But there was no wind.

The hair on the back of my neck bristled. I hurriedly stood up and tumed around.

A young girl was sitting in the apple tree. She was perhaps eleven, with aubum hair and green eyes. She wore loose summer clothes and her bare feet were dusty.

“Hello,” she said. “I'm Merihan. You’re my sister, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I said, “I am.” I knew she was dead, and that she was from the Quiet World, but I was unafraid. I knew, somehow, that nothing would harm me while she was here.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Lale.”

She inspected me up and down. “Am I going to look like you when I grow up?”

“Yes, very like me.” She didn’t know what was to happen to her. Or perhaps she did, and it no longer mattered.

“That’s good, because you’re very pretty. Sometimes I dream about living in a village far away. I never have to go to my tutors, and it’s always warm, and there’s a river and I can swim in it. Is that you I’m dreaming about?”

“I think so. I dream about you, too.”

She grimaced, then laughed. “Not about my tutors, I hope?”

“No, not about them.” I drank in her features, her expressions, her movements. They were mine, but not altogether. She was Merihan.

“Are you going to stay?” she asked. “I’d Hke it if you would. I miss you, you know. I’ve always missed you.” “I’ve always missed you, too. Are you happy here?”

“Oh, yes. Except sometimes I'm lonely because I know that you and I should be together, and we’re not. Do you know I'm to marry the Sun Lord when I grow up? His name’s Terem.”

I nodded. “Yes, I knew that. Do you like him?”

Her eyes got round. “Very much. He’s handsome, you know, and he’s very kind to me. I like him a lot, which is a good thing, since I'm to be his Surina and live in the palace with him. Have you ever met him?”

“Yes. I know Terem quite well. I'm very fond of him, as you are.”

My sister smiled. I knew that smile, for it was also mine. “You look so happy when you say that. Have you fallen in love with him? I bet you have.”

I considered the question, and how she might feel about my answer. Then I said, “Merihan, I love him with all my heart. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all. Would you die for him, the way people do for each other in the stories?”

Without hesitation I answered, “Yes.”

“So would I. But you didn’t tell me if you’d stay here. I hope you can. I'd like to talk to you whenever I wanted.” “I’d like it, too. But I can’t stay, Merihan. I wish I could, very much. But I can’t.”

She looked downcast. “I was afraid of that. You’re a grown-up, and grown-ups always have so much to do. Is that it?”

“Something like that.”

She brightened. “But perhaps you’ll come back sometimes, will you? Just once in a while, so we can see each other? We’re the closest of kin, after all.”

“Yes,” I said, “we are, and I’ll try. I’m so glad I found you.”

“So am I,” she answered. “I love you, dearest sister.”

“I love you, Merihan.”

I blinked because my eyes were full of tears. When I could see again, she was gone.

“Merihan,” I whispered, “don’t go. Please.”

In the garden, all was silent.

‘Tlease,” I said. Vertigo swept through me and I leaned against the rough bark of the apple tree. How long had I been here? The sun had passed zenith, and my feet and hands were chilled.

I looked around. All seemed as it had been, but now I had reached another country, on the far side of grief, in a place where all was clear and cold, like this windless aftemoon in the depths of winter. I stood under the tree for a while, thinking. I knew everything now. I knew what I had to do.

I rose and left the garden, without once looking back. Poor shade, did she linger there still, waiting for me to rejoin her? She had only to be patient for a little while; I would not be long.

I
left the garden by the archway. When I came into the outer courtyard, there was Nilang, wearing nondescript traveling clothes. The watchman lay at her feet, his sword still in its scabbard.

I remained in my distant refuge of wintry clarity, where nothing could surprise me. “Why are you here?” I asked.

“I have the same question for you.”

I was no longer afraid of her, but I knew I must be careful. “I'm here because I was curious about the Surina.” “Does your curiosity extend to calling her from her rest?” This penetrated even my cold tranquillity. She was a sorceress; had she sensed what had happened in the garden? I shifted my feet very slightly, into the stance of attack. But I didn’t want to fight her. I had important things to do, and ridding the world of Nilang, even assuming I could manage it, was not among them.

“How could I summon her?” I asked. “She’s not my blood, and she hes in Kuijain.”

“Indeed. Yet it has occurred to me that your resemblance might have raised questions in your mind. Of a possible relationship.”

I made myself laugh. “Her parentage is estabhshed and well known. Mine is not. She’s nothing to me.” “Nonetheless, you are here.”

I shrugged. “The usurper still dotes on her memory. The

more I know of her, the more I can emulate her and thus secure his attachment to me.”

Nilang bowed slightly. “Your foresight and resourcefulness commend you. Where are you going now?”

Here was a way to assert the loyalty I suspected she was probing. “Can you find Dilara?”

“Yes.”

“Then tell her the usurper will fight in the morning. She must deal with him tonight.”

“Very well. And you will complete the task if she fails?” “I will. How can I help her reach him?” If I knew what Dilara was going to do . ..

Nilang tilted her head to one side. “This isn’t a question you should ask.”

I looked contrite. “But I want her to succeed.”

“She wUl. Where do you go now?”

“Back to the compound. I’ll stay there till it’s over.” I wondered if she would let me pass.