The Law of Becoming: 4 (The Novels of the Jaran) (83 page)

And yet…

Too overwhelmed to speak, nevertheless one thought intruded insistently into the chaos of his thoughts.

“But even if it’s true,” he muttered, bracing himself against the stone wall, “It still makes sense to make the alliance.”

“Tess has taught you well,” said Ilya bitterly, sarcastically. “That was truly spoken like a khaja.” And in the next breath: “She will come for me.” Abruptly he sat down on the bed and began to talk to himself. “A bright light appeared from heaven and on this light he ascended. Father Wind knit a rope and Mother Sun cast a spark on it from out of her eye and glowing it reached down to the tents of the people, and up this rope climb those whom the gods have marked for their own. Farther he climbed than the angels, whose wings shone in the air with the glory of God’s light and filled the heavens with the light of a thousand campfires. By this light you may know him.”

Vasha sidled over to Stefan. “What’s he doing?” he whispered.

Stefan put two fingers over his mouth and drew Vasha aside, away from Bakhtiian, but Ilya seemed to have forgotten they were there. “He began this about ten days ago, after he was beaten by the overseer, when Nikita tried to take the blows for him. He just goes on like this, as Singers do sometimes, speaking words that the gods have poured into them.”

“As far above as angels, he surveyed the lands, and by this sign he recognized his fate, that the sword given him would carve from many lands one land for is it not said that where the gods touch the earth then must all rivers run like the wind and the few shall become the many and the blind shall see. And out of this dispute did Mother Sun exile her only daughter to the earth and sent with her ten sisters who bore the ten tribes of the jaran. And the dyan of the first tribe fell in love with the daughter of the sun. She refused him, as any heaven-born creature must. He led his jahar into battle and fell to a grievous blow. Wounded unto death, he begged her for healing. Healing him, she loved him, and together they made a child.”

Suddenly he leapt up and began to beat a fist against the wall, as if trying to batter it down, over and over again. Vasha jumped forward, to restrain him, but Stefan caught his arm and dragged him back.

“Let him alone. You must let him alone, Vasha. He’ll just rage worse if you try to stop him.”

So Vasha watched helplessly as his father bloodied his hands against the unyielding stone. After a while Ilya slumped down and sat staring at nothing.

“Father,” Vasha said, bringing him water, but Ilya would not drink or even acknowledge his existence. “Father, if Tess comes, you must have the strength to leave this place.” Ilya stirred. “Father. Please.”

And, finally, he drank.

Jaelle and Katerina watched from the tower the commotion caused by Prince Janos’s arrival at White Tower. That evening, two servants brought a magnificent tray of food from the feasting that was, evidently, going on in the great hall.

“He will come to see you tomorrow or the next day,” said Jaelle, feeling that she might broach this subject now with Katerina. “It would be prudent of you to greet him kindly.”

“You think it would be prudent of me to allow him to lie with me, don’t you?”

Jaelle hesitated.

Katerina touched her hand, her fingers tracing her knuckles. “You must tell me what you truly think, Jaelle. It does me no good if you are afraid to speak freely.”

“What he has offered you is generous. You must make him write it down in a contract. That way you are protected if he ceases to love you. That is your great advantage, your only one.”

“My only power is that this man desires me?” Katerina snorted. “That is a sad state of affairs.” Her expression softened, and she clasped Jaelle’s hand firmly in hers. “But that is all you have had, is it not?”

Surprised and abashed, Jaelle could only nod.

“Well,” said Katerina, “I can endure anything, knowing you are my faithful friend.” She leaned toward Jaelle, like a lover easing toward a kiss, and stared at her intently. Jaelle felt dizzy, felt a wash of unexpected heat flood her, but she did not know what to say only that she had to say something, for what if Katerina drew back, recoiling from her silence?

“I am,” she said, her voice so faint it seemed to die into the air. “I am your faithful friend, Katerina.”

Voices sounded on the stairs below. Katerina let go of Jaelle’s hand and leapt to her feet. Moments later, the door to the chamber was unlocked and swung open, and Prince Janos entered.

“I have come to play castles with you.” He handed his cloak and gloves to a servant. A second man hurried forward and piled more wood on the fire so that it blazed up. Jaelle hastily cleared the tray away, but it was taken from her by a servant and she was left to watch while Janos sat down at the table and began to set out the pieces, pausing once to examine the knight whose features had been scraped away. He placed it on the board, making no comment. Servants brought wine and steadied the fire and fled. Finally, Katerina walked over to the table and sat down in the chair opposite Janos. She was not afraid to look at him directly. Jaelle admired her for that.

“I have learned one thing,” said Katerina, picking up the faceless knight and setting it back down, centering it precisely in its square. “That I cannot stop you. You may come here. I will play castles, since I am bored.”

Now he looked up at her, searching her face, his gaze uncomfortably fixed on her. “And my other suit?”

“You did not ask before.”

“I am asking now.”

Her eyes were as blue as the winter ice. “By our laws, Prince Janos, a man who forces a woman is put to death. You are so marked now. I will never invite you to my bed, not now, not at any time, ever, from this day to the day I die.”

“What if I married you? You would have no choice in that, would you, nor about lying with me in my bed?”

“You are already married.”

“But if I was not,” he pressed, “and I chose to marry you, then what?”

“Then you would be a fool for losing Princess Rusudani.”

“But you would be mine.”

Katerina shifted in her chair, looking, for once, at a loss for words. “I want to see my cousin,” she said in a low voice.

“Become my mistress of your own free will, and this will not be denied you.”

Katerina laughed, sharp and surprised. “Is this how khaja men court women?”

“It is your move,” said Janos, indicating the pieces.

“You cannot defeat me, Prince Janos,” she said softly, almost like a warning. But she moved a piece. “Your mother has treated me kindly. I would like to send my servant to the marketplace to buy her a gift, in thanks.”

“With what will you buy this gift?”

She slipped a fine gold necklace off her neck, handling it as if it were the merest trinket. “She may take this to trade.”

He hesitated, hand poised over a foot soldier. “Very well,” he said, moving the piece one square forward. “She may go tomorrow.”

“You will purchase a suitable gift for Lady Jadranka,” said Katerina in the morning as she helped Jaelle on with a cloak, “perfume, perhaps, or a fine bolt of silk, if they have such a thing for sale here. Then you must find a healer…I don’t know what the khaja call them. A woman or a man who can give you herbs,
trefin
or
enefis
, perhaps they know of others here, that will prevent a woman from conceiving. You must know of such things.”

“I do.”

“If there is coin left, then buy something for yourself.”

“Good wool cloth,” said Jaelle instantly. “Winter is coming on.”

Katerina laughed and kissed Jaelle on the cheek. “You’re very practical. My grandmother would like you.” Abruptly she flushed and released her, and Jaelle, equally flustered, took a step back. “Go on. The guards are waiting.”

In the chamber below, Lady Jadranka waited for her. “I had hoped to persuade my son to allow Lady Katherine to go on an outing, but I see that she has convinced him to let you go to the marketplace for her. I will go up.”

Outside, Rusudani just happened to be crossing the courtyard with her ladies, heading for the chapel. She halted and approached Jaelle. “This is Lady Katherine’s cloak,” she said, fingering it. Taken aback, Jaelle stood stiffly, but Rusudani nudged her gently, her hand hidden in the folds of the cloak, and passed her a little bag filled with coin. “I see that Lady Jadranka has persuaded Janos to let you out to the market.”

Jaelle took refuge in silence, not sure anymore whose cause she was furthering. She had an idea that Katerina would not approve of her seeking out a love potion meant to work on Bakhtiian, and at the same time, she wondered if Rusudani understood Katerina’s position in relation to her own; certainly she must know nothing about the troubling questions Prince Janos had asked about marriage last night.

The outer ward was alive with activity. It looked rather like the great courtyard of a caravansary when a large caravan was making preparations to set off. By the armorer’s forge, she saw Stefan helping to hold a horse while it was shoed. Setting down a hoof, he looked up and saw her, and his face lit. Without meaning to, she smiled at him, forgot herself enough that she slowed down and received, for her lapse, a groping hand from one of her escorts.

“Move along,” the man said, feeling for her breast.

She jerked forward away from his hands and resolutely looked forward, away from Stefan. “I am Princess Katherine’s servant, and I am to be treated with respect,” she said haughtily, and to her surprise the man moved away from her.

They went out through the gates and down into the town that lay at the foot of the castle. The guards remained civil to her, as if her reminder had refined her status in their eyes: no longer a common whore, she was now a serving woman important enough to be noticed by Lady Jadranka and Princess Rusudani. A servant whose complaints might conceivably be brought to the attention of the prince.

In the marketplace they shadowed her but left her alone to browse and bargain. She was ill-used to such luxury. She haggled over perfume, enjoying herself, and haggled further, in a kind of three-way bargaining with a perfumer and a neighboring jeweler, over the price of the necklace. In the end, she got the perfume, some coin, and, the greatest prize of the transaction, the direction of an herbwoman who was known to be discreet and reliable, and who knew a bit of the trade language.

On market day Mistress Kunane conducted her business from a stall in vegetable row. Bundles of herbs hung from her cart, fragrant even in the open air.

“I come from the castle for herbs to sweeten my lady’s chamber,” said Jaelle. Lowering her voice, she added, “and herbs for myself, to sweeten a man’s heart.”

Mistress Kunane did not reply at once. A robust woman, she eyed the guards fiercely, as if she intended to take a stick to them. They backed up four steps. Then, pinching off herbs into a cloth bag, she examined Jaelle’s face and cloak and clean but mended gown. “A girl as pretty as you has everything she needs to draw a man to her.”

“Alas, Mother, not every man loves with his eyes.”

The herbwoman grunted, but she seemed amused. “You are a foreign woman. Did you come in with those foreigners that was brought in by the prince, God save him?”

“I am. I’m desperate for love of him, Mother.”

“More likely it’s your mistress, whoever she may be, who is wanting a man she ought not to be looking at. There’s naught I can do for that.”

“But you must, Mistress. What will I tell her otherwise?”

“Tell her that a man’s heart is best left untouched. Is there aught else I can get you?”

By now Jaelle was feeling desperate. “But can’t you give me something? I must have something to take back to her.” Behind her, the guards were growing restive, trying to listen in. “There is another thing… if I get with child I’ll lose my position and the master will throw me out on the streets….” The lie came out easily, but soon as it was said aloud it took on a horrible significance.
If I get with child.
She flushed, the heat like pinpricks along her cheeks.

“Tell me the truth,” said Mistress Kunane. She took her walking stick and struck the nearest guard on the forearm. He yelped and jumped back, and the rest of the guards, startled as well but also chuckling at his discomfiture, moved away again.

“I am just a serving woman, Mother. I have been sent here to procure these things, one for a woman who will suffer needlessly if she gets with child, the other for…I don’t know what will happen if the other gets no satisfaction, whether she will blame me or go another way to get what she wants. Please, Mistress.”

“The holy church enjoins against love potions. I cannot help you, child, only give you sweet herbs to scent the body. As for the other—”

The great bell in the church tower tolled, drowning out the cheerful noise of the marketplace. Once, a second time, and a third, then a pause the length of three rings. And again. And again.

“Ten coppers for the lot,” said Mistress Kunane. Jaelle scarcely had time to give a single silver coin into her hand before the guards grabbed her bodily and hustled her away. All around her, merchants closed their shops and windows were flung shut and bolted. The harmonious undertone of market day erupted into a frightful roar, as if a wave had burst onto a peaceful shore. The bell rang, and paused, and rang again, on and on.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Jaelle shouted, but the guards were intent on getting back into the castle and dragged her along, ignoring her questions. Once in the outer ward they simply left her to fight her own way through the surging crowd of servants that swamped the courtyard. By the armory, a growing knot of men formed, and Jaelle saw at once that the armorer’s apprentices were passing out armor and weapons.

“Jaelle!” Stefan slipped an arm around her and steered her toward the inner ward. “They’ve forgotten all about me. Can you get me in to see Katya?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. What is happening?”

Then of course she knew. Stupidly, she had forgotten that it might come to this. His face was exultant, alight.

“They’re coming,” he said. “The army is coming.”