The Shasht War (38 page)

"I understand, Papa."

"Yes, hmmm. And while you're there, you can visit the elder aunts. In particular, I mean old Lady Piggili. She was Chiknulba's favorite."

"Oh, of course, Papa, I will visit Aunt Piggili. And I will speak to the others and tell them that Mother died bravely in the distant land."

Simona bent and kissed him on the cheek, something that pressed against the line of permissible behavior in the world of Shashti purdah.

"And remember to behave with modesty, darling daughter of mine. Even in Shesh Zob we must keep up the front that we are just as traditional as the next family. We don't want to be singled out by the priests. We certainly don't want any raids by the morality squads. So remember that and be a good girl. No swimming without clothes on."

"Father! It is midwinter. I will be wearing plenty of clothes, and I certainly won't be swimming."

"Yes, yes, of course. I'm sorry, but that last incident caused us trouble in Shesh. The magistrate even sent a note of inquiry."

"Oh, Daddy, those awful people."

"They may be awful, my dear, but they have power. They can order fifty Red Tops into the Zob with the power to search every crevice to root out vice or immorality. We don't want that."

Filek's eyebrows had taken on a paternal frown for a moment.

"Of course not, Daddy."

"Good, now travel safely, offer prayers at the shrines for your mother. And write to me, tell me how everyone is. I want to know everything."

Simona left him then. In truth, she looked forward to seeing Shesh Zob. Four years had passed since she had last taken the purdah wagon to Shesh. The journey took eight or nine days, depending on the weather, even with fresh horses at every stop. And along the way the traveler would encounter a lot of big, cold inns. The worst was at Evkun, which was smoky and had the most awful food.

But, she consoled herself, at the end of the journey she would be in the country, and during the winter festival as well. It had been years since she'd had First Snow at Shesh Zob. She had such warm memories of it when she was a little girl. She remembered her mother during an intimate, mixed-sex family gathering. Because everyone was related, the women wore light veils only for covering their faces. The feasting, the singing, and the dancing! It was marvelous, and all just within the Gsekk clan. Her wonderful uncles and aunts, her favorite, Aunt Piggili, who was closely related to Mother. Aunt Piggili's wonderful high-pitched cackle and her apple pie, they were unforgettable.

And as soon as she was settled in, she was going for a ride. She hadn't ridden a horse in four years. She hoped that Silvery, her favorite mare, was still alive. Silvery had been eleven when last she'd seen her. And she wasn't going to ride sidesaddle, not Simona Gsekk. She would have her legs wrapped around the horse.

Indeed, despite the seriousness of the situation, she wanted to jump up and sing aloud. All the terrors of the tense politics of Shasht seemed left behind in the city.

Her thoughts were interrupted. One of the women was speaking to her. Simona stopped thinking of riding her horse and concentrated.

"Will you be staying in Shesh, then?" said the woman.

Simona was about to answer honestly and then checked herself. Be discreet, the Emperor had said.

"Ah, no, I will go on to the Ramp Valley. I am staying with relatives there."

"Ah, the Ramp," said the woman, dismissively. "Well, I'm afraid I shan't see you during the festival. We will be entirely taken up with festivities in the purple hills."

"Oh, the purple hills are so beautiful. How fortunate you are."

"Yes," said the woman, adjusting her ample flesh. Completely satisfied with the superior accident of her birth.

The wagon rattled on. Simona prepared herself for what she feared would be something of an ordeal.

The first night was at the Old Halt in Shojin, a dilapidated structure, with purdah quarters that were barely habitable. The bare floors had gaps, the wind whistled through the windows, barely slowed by the worn-out shutters. Dinner consisted of a weak broth, some mushrooms, and hot loaves of bread. Simona was cold all night.

In the succeeding days they rattled over the cobbles of the imperial highway. To either side stretched the grim little towns of the valley, an endless expanse of mud-brick houses. Dust rose above the plain, grey clouds swept in, and a cold rain lashed the road.

That night they stayed in much better conditions at Tencourt. The inn was warm and served an excellent farmer's pie for dinner, with good ale and a roaring fire. Simona slept much better that night, though she woke in the morning from a dream about Nuza. Nuza had been waving good-bye, as if she were never coming back. Simona did not know what the dream meant and was afraid to think about the possibilities. But worries about Nuza kept returning.

That day, the third, the ladies in the carriage were quiet. They'd exhausted the conversation in the first two days. Now everyone knew who everyone was and had compared family trees. The hierarchy had been established. For the moment this knowledge inhibited conversation.

The journey continued thus. Most halts were in old pensions where the shutters banged in the wind and rain leaked through the worn-out roofing. Three days in a row it rained, which caused a day of delay at Trelsay, where the road crossed the river and the canal.

Then things improved, until Evkun. Looking out on the bleak rows of ocher brick housing, Simona felt a familiar desolation in her soul. The hinterland was crowded with people, and most of them lived in squalor. In Simona's world these people hardly existed. They were not involved in the chorales, they did not attend the theaters, they were not part of the society of Shasht. They were but a step away from slavery, ekeing out their existence in these wretched alleys, swarming with their children.

That night she heard the sounds of distant struggles. Men fighting in small groups after drinking fiery bashool. Shouts, cries, sometimes running feet, followed the sounds of beatings. Howls of agony rent the sky, sobbing away to nothing.

Simona slept poorly again and slept sitting up much of the next day.

And then, at last, they were in Shesh, and the lovely spires of the temple rose above the valley in which the town reposed. They crossed the canal again and entered the town proper. The stone buildings with their white plaster facade were an immediate contrast to the mud brick of the river towns below.

They lodged that night at the Oak Tree Inn, a building boasting beams several hundred years old. Fortunately, it was a prosperous place and in good repair. Simona slept well and was up early. She left her companions of the journey behind. They would scarcely miss her, she hadn't said much to anyone for most of the trip. But having said she was going to the Ramp Valley, she had to take a different wagon from theirs to get to the purple hills. So she ordered a two-person carriage, made purdah proper by being completely enclosed with a single door that was easily bolted shut. Lake of the Woods was fifteen miles away, and it would take much of the day to make the trip.

From the narrow window slits she watched the pretty hills of Shesh passing by. Long stone walls flanked the roads, boasting gracious gates. They were in the zobbi countryside now. There was traffic, supply wagons for the most part, and the road was in excellent condition. Indeed, they passed slave gangs working on the roads in several locations. The county administrators were well aware of the high priority required for the roads leading to the grand zobbi and so kept them in good condition.

Bare trees covered the hills, except for the conifers that began to proliferate in the higher elevations. After the treeless plain these were a pleasant sight. Her spirits improved continuously. Simona now trembled with excitement. At Shesh Zob she could stand outside in the open air, under the sun, and twirl and shout and be alive. The whole suffocating burden of purdah would be removed. She could barely restrain her eagerness to be outside and free.

It was a long day, and she slept for part of it, but with the light fading behind them, she glimpsed the north wing of the house through the trees. Her heart soared. Here was sanctuary, here she could at last feel like herself again.

The carriage clopped up the driveway toward the west-facing main facade of the house. The pale orange walls, topped by red tile work, brought back wonderful memories.

She heard the slaves knocking on the carriage door, and she drew back the bolts.

Shalee was there, his narrow face split by a huge smile.

"Welcome, Mistress Simona, welcome back to Shesh Zob."

The hour before cocks crow, the great city was asleep. Scarcely a light showed at this hour, except at the palace. There, within the very heart of the Empire, panic ruled.

The Emperor's throne had suddenly begun to wobble. The priests had spoken against Aeswiren, so it was said. Armed guards stood alert at every doorway. Men with lamps searched the passageways and halls for assassins.

The day before had been the festival of the Blood of Bulls. At the great sacrifice of the white bull, a strange travesty had occurred that set every tongue to wagging. When the Red Tops pried open the chest of the bull to release the Nymph of the New Blood, they found an old hag, toothless, one eye missing, instead of the lovely young girl that was expected. The ceremony had ended abruptly.

Then had come the more telling blow, at least as far as Aeswiren was concerned. Before the old hag could be questioned, she was killed, in mysterious circumstances while within the protection of the Hand. Her body showed no marks.

We had her, and yet she was killed? This spoke of a penetration of the Hand.

Aeswiren was pressing very hard for answers. He had demanded that the temple hand over the priests responsible for organizing the ceremony of the Blood of Bulls. Aeswiren knew perfectly well that the "nymph" did not come from the innards of the bull, but was introduced in a skillful maneuver when the Red Tops tore the bull apart with crowbars. The temple had refused to hand over the priests to the Hand. They claimed that important spiritual matters were at stake. The Great God had obviously expressed his displeasure about something, and the priests had to decide what it was. Something had gone awry within the very heart of the empire, that was the only possible explanation.

This was dangerously close to a treasonous statement. When the priests spoke out against Emperors in the past, those Emperors fell. Perhaps not immediately, but soon the authority of the Emperor would weaken if the priesthood of the Great God turned against him. It had happened many times.

And even more important than this looming problem was the mysterious disappearance of Hesh, the First Finger of the Hand. Hesh was a closely guarded individual, but his guards had been slain outside his door and Hesh was missing. No trace had been found in two days' frantic search of the city.

Aeswiren had been Emperor for twenty-three years. He had come up the hard way. He knew to keep his own counsel in a time like this. No one could be trusted, although he would have to rely on the officers of the Hand. Hesh's deputies knew too much not to be involved in his efforts to turn the situation around.

One thing he was certain of, all this trouble came from the Old One. All due to Aeswiren's refusal to hand Nuza over to the knife.

At the thought of the Old One, Aeswiren's lip curled into an involuntary snarl. Aeswiren had his sword on his hip now, with helmet and chain mail, too. The Old One had ruled a long time, removing weak Emperors when necessary. Aeswiren would show him that he was made of different material. Nuza was safe and would stay hidden. Unless they could rip it from his own lips, they would not find her.

But Hesh's disappearance was about more than Nuza. For Aeswiren had been working along the same lines as the Old One, only his trap was planned to shut in three more days. A picked force of five hundred men waited for the order, then they were to clean out the temple. All the Gold Tops were to lose their heads, and the Old One was to be eradicated. His remains were to be burned in a large, hot fire, just to be sure they could never be resurrected.

But the enemy had moved first. Possibly the enemy had known of his plans. A chilling thought, because it meant the organization he had built, with the help of Hesh, had been penetrated. How much did his enemy know? Where was Hesh?

Aeswiren had reviewed the structure of the Hand and the chief officers. The other Fingers were located in Hadda, Yerumala, and Bajj, the leading provinces of the Empire. Yet they were irrelevant in this struggle. Aeswiren sensed this would all be over within a few days.

For local control, the Hand relied on the Fierce Fists, a cadre of a hundred picked men. Aeswiren knew most of these men, had read all of their files. He had selected six of these men to give his special trust. Aeswiren had sat with these young men, eaten meals with them, worked to instill loyalty into them. But now he knew that one of that cadre had to be the traitor.

The immediate task was to replace Hesh. The Hand needed a First Finger. Either Grimes or Chenko could do the job; they had been Hesh's deputies for many years, though neither exhibited quite the same degree of chilly resolve as Hesh.

Aeswiren never lingered anywhere for more than an hour. Accompanied by three guards and Klek, he shifted his location about the palace. Strangely, he found himself happier than he'd been in years.

Grimes accompanied him to a small room on the fourth floor of the west wing. They discussed the qualities of the Six, the young men Aeswiren had groomed for the highest levels.

"Bayrid and Chebble have always seemed very solid to me," said Grimes.

"And to me. I find it close to inconceivable that one of them could be the traitor." And then Chenko hurried in with the strangest look on his face.

"What?" snapped Aeswiren.

"We have found him, we have found Hesh."

Aeswiren's heart leaped.

"Good. Give thanks to the Gods for that. Where?"

"In the gardens of Lakank House. He was found by a bed of zajola flowers, just standing there."