The Quartered Sea (21 page)

As the last note faded, Benedikt heard rustling down below and abruptly remembered where he was.
I've probably terrified that cat
. He blinked, rubbing his cheeks with sweaty palms, and glanced down. Half a dozen wide-eyed faces stared up at him. Then half a dozen more. A breathy murmur drew his attention up to the terraces where karjet and karjen alike clutched robes and stared.

"Benedikt…"

He turned. Xhojee stood barely an arm's reach away, his eyes open so wide the whites showed all the way around, his focus on the far side of the courtyard.

Benedikt turned again. He could see a slight figure, a sheet clutched about his waist, dark hair loose on his shoulders. Even after a single meeting, there could be no mistaking that stance.

"I assure you, gracious one, I was in the temple. This stranger's song touched Tulpayotee. I felt him stir. The rumors must be true."

"What rumors?"

"That you give shelter to a warrior of Tulpayotee. There can be no other explanation."

Tul Altun frowned and turned to pluck a date from the platter of fruit by his elbow, his pair of barbers following the motion smoothly and continuing to braid. "You're sure it was the stranger's singing that invoked the god?"

"Yes, gracious one. Why has he been here so long without being brought to me…" As high priest of the house temple, Ooman Xhai took risks others of House Kohunlich wouldn't dare—it was his right to argue religion with the tul—but there were still lines even he didn't cross. Suddenly aware he'd come perilously close to one such line, he folded his hands over his yellow robe and hurriedly continued. "… so that I may help him find his feet in this world?"

Remembering how he'd been dragged from sleep by visions of the sun, Tul Altun nodded. "Yes, I think that might be a good idea."

"Follow my lead. When I kneel, you kneel. When I rise, you rise. Unless the tul tells you to rise, then you do what he says and don't worry about what I'm doing."

"I feel better if I have my
breeches
."

The Shkoden word pulled Xhojee around. "What are you talking about?"

"My
breeches
." Benedikt waved his hands around the thin skirt he wore. He couldn't have felt more self-conscious if he'd been naked. "For my legs."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Xhojee grabbed the other man's arm and jerked him back into motion. "Don't stop walking. When the tul commands an audience, you don't dick around in the halls discussing your legs."

"Not legs. Clothes."

"You look fine." He swept a quick glance over his charge, head to toe. The new sawrap clung low to slim hips and fortunately Benedikt had a well-shaped foot because all he had so far were open house sandals. The only problem Xhojee could see was all the hair. Arms and legs were thick with the stuff, there were gold curls in the center of the broad chest, and the line of hair that ran down from the navel to disappear behind the sawrap met up with more hair than Xhojee really wanted to think about.

"I dangle!" Benedikt protested, ears red.

"Yeah, well, don't worry about it. Once we reach the tul, everything'll crawl back up inside."

The wide halls were deserted, but as they hurried toward a distant flight of stairs, Benedikt thought he heard movement from every alcove, eddies of air that stroked quiet whispers from the hanging bells. Once, an awed voice murmured "Tulpayotee" and then fell silent.

Tulpayotee was the god of the sun, or in the sun, or maybe just represented by the sun; Benedikt wasn't sure. Xhojee's explanation seemed to have involved all three possibilities.

"Xhojee, when I Sang, have I broken religious… uh…" He didn't know the word.

"Have you broken religious?" Xhojee's laugh held no humor. "You woke the tul. Isn't that enough? Somehow, I doubt you woke the god. And even if you did, we'd probably be in less trouble. All right. We're almost at the stairs. From now on, be quiet. Do you understand?"

"Don't talk."

"Don't talk. Don't sing." Xhojee smiled nervously and clapped the other man on the arm. "Especially, don't sing. And by the way, if that's not singing very good, I'd like to hear what you consider very good to be."

"It's just…"

"Don't talk. Remember, you call him gracious one if you have to speak to him. You keep your eyes locked on his feet if you don't. Unless he tells you differently. And don't volunteer anything."

"What is volunteer?"

"Don't offer him more than he asks for. Now, be quiet."

The stairs were broad and awkward to descend. They led down into a large square room with no outside walls. A line of guards, alternating men and women, stood facing out into the courtyard and another, identical line, faced out into what had to be the world beyond the house. Set into the wall directly opposite the stairs, was a huge set of stone doors carved with a bas relief of nightmare imagery.

They were the first doors Benedikt had seen, and they were a full two stories high.

Xhojee hurried across the room and pulled one open.

"Counterbalanced," Benedikt muttered trying to see where they'd hidden the weights. A glare from Xhojee pressed his lips together. Surely they couldn't be in
that
much trouble just because he'd woken the tul?

The stairs on the other side of the door were more awkward to climb than the first set had been to descend. Benedikt knew that some keeps were built with uneven stairs in case an enemy got through the outer defenses. He was pretty sure the older parts of the keep in Ohrid, the parts where Annice maintained her Bardic Hall, had been built using that design. These, however, seemed to be more for humiliation than defense, to keep those approaching the tul off-balance. By the time the upper hall was finally gained, it was impossible not to feel clumsy, tired, and frustrated.

Benedikt had believed the tile work adorning the walls and ceiling in his room was elaborate. In comparison to the tile work in the long hall leading to the tul's chambers, it was virtually nonexistent. Instead of plain geometric repetitions, tiny tiles, no bigger than a thumbnail, had been used to create pictures on the walls. The colors were brilliant and the pictures exquisite—in spite of the dim morning light and the speed Xhojee insisted he maintain.

The tul had no door at his chamber, but the alcove was so narrow they were forced to walk in single file and it turned twice, becoming almost a hall in its own right. A single string of golden bells chimed musically for each of them.

Benedikt barely had time to note that Tul Altun wasn't alone before Xhojee dropped to one knee. Right arm between his legs in the hope he could keep his skirt down, Benedikt followed.

Sandaled feet walked across the room and stopped in front of Xhojee. The metal on the sandals had been gilded and the toenails trimmed square and polished. As the other man had been wearing a floor-length yellow robe, they had to be the tul's feet.

"Does he still understand more than he speaks?"

No mistaking the tul's voice. Or the effect of the tul's voice. Although the question had been directed at his companion, sweat beaded Benedikt's bare back.

Benedikt listened to the sounds of Xhojee leaving and tried not to feel abandoned by his only friend. Xhojee had no more choice about leaving than he did about staying. The sandals moved more fully into his line of sight.

"Just what were you doing this morning, Benedikt?" The tul's pronunciation made the final tee almost a syllable on its own.

"I were Singing the sunrising, gracious one." Remembering Xhojee's warning not to volunteer, he closed his teeth on an explanation he didn't think he had the words for anyway. In either language.

The other person in the room gasped, and a yellow hem swayed into Benedikt's view. "Gracious one, out of his own mouth, he was evoking Tulpayotee!"

"He said no such thing, Ooman. Benedikt, look at me."

Benedikt swallowed and lifted his head. He was enough taller than the tul that even kneeling their faces weren't that far apart. Given differences in decoration, they were dressed identically.

"Do you know who Tulpayotee is, Benedikt?"

"Yes." The tul's expression indicated he should continue. "He is God of Sun. Or is Sun. Or the sun is his…" He didn't know the word for symbol, so he came as close as he could. "… sign."

Tul Altun nodded. "The Ooman thinks you were singing to Tulpayotee this morning. Were you?"

Remembering how his Song had risen to touch the sun, Benedikt nodded, hoping he hadn't broken any religious taboos. "Could have, gracious one."

"Really?" Tul Altun walked around behind the kneeling man and lifted a strand of the golden hair. It was long enough to braid, but he'd given orders it be left loose. Watching the colors change as it spilled through his fingers, he actually spent a moment wondering if the god had truly blessed him before reminding himself of his physician's certainty that this was just a man. A man with an appearance he could exploit and apparently a few other talents as well. "Can you sing the same song tomorrow morning, Benedikt?"

"Yes, gracious one."

"Good. You'll sing it tomorrow in the temple, and we'll both see if the Ooman tells the truth."

With the tul still behind him, Benedikt's gaze flicked over to the other man. His head had been shaven and covered in black patterns that extended out onto his cheeks.

"Although I've done what I could to keep your existence secret, there are those in this house who believe you've come from Tulpayotee, that you're one of his warriors here to prevent the change. It turns out that Ooman Xhai listens to rumors and, after this morning, he believes them. What do you think now that you've seen him, Ooman?"

Although he'd never seen the shaved man before and had no idea if he were friend or foe, Benedikt found it difficult to breathe as he watched him leave. There was something very disturbing about having the full attention of the tul.

"Who are you really, Benedikt? Where do you come from?"

Startled, Benedikt looked up and met a penetrating stare looking down. It was clear that whatever the priest might believe, the tul did not. "I come from over the sea, gracious one." They had a long, complicated name for the sea but Benedikt couldn't remember it. "From a land called Shkoder. It are very far away. We were on a ship, there were a storm." He swallowed and spread his hands to give himself time to regain control of his voice. "Now I am here."

"Yes, gracious one." His tongue felt thick as he answered. Or maybe he was reading way too much into a simple statement; he couldn't tell.

Smiling, appreciative of the discomfort he'd caused, Tul Altun slowly circled the kneeling man. "How did you do what you did this morning?"

"Nor to me." Except there had been those dreams of the sun… "But if the god responds to priests, why not to a poor shipwrecked sailor? Will the god respond tomorrow?"

"I can only Sing, gracious one."

"I suppose that will have to do." The stranger wasn't as golden as he'd been when he first arrived, but his eyes were still the color of an evening sky. Perhaps the god looked down and was himself confused. It was a pity about all the hair, but it would help to set him apart. "Stand," he commanded, stepping back. A moment later he shook his head. "No, you'd best kneel again. It isn't good for anyone to be so much taller than his tul."