The Silver Lake (24 page)

“I’m inclined to agree with them.”

“Maybe, but when Cindar died, we lost everything. Then we nearly died. Is that any better?”

“No, I suppose it isn’t. Ah, here we are.” Kemal pushed open a door at the end of the corridor with a relieved expression as Spar and Brax shared a cynical glance well beyond their years before following him and Jaq inside.

The woman counting jars in the small, lamplit room off the huge, bustling kitchens was tall for an Anavatanos with paler skin than most and sandy hair the color of Spar’s own. She didn’t bother to turn around when the door opened.

“Is that you back already, Monee? I told you, the dried chick peas are on the top shelf of the cold cellar.”

Kemal grinned. “Isn’t Monee a little short to be rummaging about up there?”

The woman turned with a frown that changed to an indulgent smile as she realized who’d spoken.

“Hello, Kemal.”

“Chamberlain Tanay.”

Setting her counting board down on the long worktable in the center of the room, her gray eyes warmed at the sight of the two boys, then darkened when she saw their injuries, but, smoothing her expression to one of professional welcome, she crossed the room to greet them. Spar stared unabashedly up at her.

“Who do you have there?” she asked with a smile that made his senses reel. “A couple of visiting kardon-delon?”

Kemal smiled in return. “No, a couple of honored guests, Tanay. This is Brax and Spar, newly sworn to Estavia. The God led them here this evening with a message for the council.”

“Ah. You’d be the ones I was directed to make up that tray for, then. Down, Jaq! Bad dog!” She smacked the dog’s head away from the table before turning back to them, smiling at Spar’s indignant expression in Jaq’s defense. “I was wondering,” she continued, “the marshal usually eats with Bronze Company.”

“The marshal asks that you find them a bed in the guest wing.”

“Of course.” She turned toward the kitchens. “Tyre?”

A tall, gangly delinkos looked up from the huge pot he was scrubbing. “Yes, Chamberlain?”

“Where’s Hatem?”

“Finishing his supper.”

“Have him make up the golden guest suite and bathing room when he’s done.” Turning back, she took in the boys’ ragged clothes and pinched expressions with a swift, practical glance. “Are either of you still hungry
^?
”

They looked at each other in surprise, then Spar nodded.

“We can always eat,” Brax answered.

“Tyre, fetch some asure for our guests.”

“Yes, Chamberlain.”

“We’ll see to bathing after you’ve eaten. Now then, clothes?” she asked, glancing at Kemal.

He nodded.

“What color?”

“Oh. Um ...” He looked down and met Brax’s firm, defiant gaze. “I suppose they’d better be blue.”

“You suppose?”

“It’s a long story. The council ...”

Tanay snorted. “Enough said. Blue it is. I’m sure I can find something that used to be Bazmin’s or Brin’s; they’ve both grown a foot since last High Summer.” She turned her warm gaze on the two boys again. “Do you mind castoffs for the time being?”

Spar frowned as Brax glanced up at her, his expression carefully neutral. “We don’t have any shine,” he answered.

“Shine?”

“Money.”

“You’re not buying them; you’re borrowing them until I can get you measured up.”

“The temple provides all who serve at the Sarayi with two new uniforms per year,” Kemal added with a smile. “The council pays for them.”

Both boys grinned. “Then castoffs’ll do fine ... until we can get measured up,” Brax allowed.

Tanay nodded. “Good. And here’s Tyre with your asure.”

Brax accepted two ceramic bowls filled with the same sweet, pastelike dessert they’d had earlier, handing the larger one to Spar, who continued to stare at Tanay in besotted wonder.

“You look like him,” Brax explained. “We’ve never seen more than one or two Anavatanon who do.”

Tanay nodded. “That’s because I’m from Ekmir-Koy village in the south. Many of us are fair. It comes from our mountain blood.”

“Cindar thought Spar might have mountain blood,” he observed, taking a huge spoonful of asure.

“Cindar?”

“Our abayos.”

“And where is he?”

“He’s dead.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“‘Sall right. We don’t need him now.”

“Hm.” She glanced over at Kemal. “Will you be taking them to the infirmary next, Ghazi?” she asked pointedly.

“What for?”

Her eyes flashed. “To have their injuries tended to by a proper physician of Usara,” she replied, her tone suddenly chilly.

“We’re fine,” Brax broke in at once as Spar took an involuntary step back. “We put some comfrey on the scratches this morning. They’re healing.”

Kemal smiled. “Don’t you like the priests of Usara either, Brax?” he asked.

“They’re expensive, and they’re usually fakes.”

“Not these ones.”

Brax shrugged. “We’re fine,” he repeated.

“Well, would you mind if I had a quick look at your injuries, anyway?” Tanay asked. “I have a bit of extra salve I keep for minor kitchen mishaps—it will only go bad if I don’t use it up—and Spar seems to have at least one scratch that’s become inflamed.”

Brax’s head snapped around and, mutely, the younger boy pushed up his left jacket sleeve to more fully expose the puffy red line that extended along his forearm.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Brax hissed.

Spar just looked away, the answer obvious. There’d been no point in telling him when they’d had no more shine for salve.

“You can doctor that?” Brax asked, returning his gaze to Tanay.

“Yes, if it’s not too badly infected.”

“All right, then, yes ... um, please look at it.”

She turned. “Tyre, fetch me some warm water and that jar of salve from my counting room trunk.”

The young man looked up from his next pot with a faintly annoyed expression, but dutifully laid down his brush.

“The ceramic jar, Chamberlain?”

“No, the porcelain jar.” Watching as Brax helped Spar out of his jacket, she narrowed her eyes at the torn and bloody state of the tunic underneath.

“Did you get these from fighting?” she asked, her tone disapproving.

“Spirit attack,” Brax supplied for him.

“I see. You’re dealing with this, Kemal?”

He nodded.

“Good. Here, take this.” She handed Spar’s jacket to Tyre as he passed her the jar. “Brax, if you will remove yours as well ...”

The older boy hesitated for a moment, then stripped off his own jacket, handing it to Tyre who tried not to stare at the long welts down his neck and arms.

“Have it washed and see if it can be mended. Now ...” she indicated to Spar, who held his arm out shyly. Cleaning around the injury first, she then expertly cracked open the jar’s wax seal and Brax wrinkled his nose at the unfamiliar smell.

“What is that?”

“Frankincense.”

His mouth dropped open as Spar immediately snatched his arm away.

“We can’t pay for that,” Brax said bluntly.

“Estavia’s people don’t pay for treatment in Her temple,” Kemal replied.

“Still, we don’t need anything that expensive. Comfrey’ ll do fine.”

“The better the salve the more effective it is and the less you need,” Tanay explained.

“I don’t care. It’s too much. We can’t ... it’s too much.” Brax broke off, unable to voice his sudden fear as Spar began to shake his head.

Tanay gave them both a thoughtful look. “Nothing comes without a price, does it, delon?” she said gently.

Spar looked away as Brax chewed uncertainly on his lip. “No,” the older boy allowed finally.

“And that price is usually high,” she added gently. “Even here.” She smiled reassuringly at them. “Look at me,” she offered, “I have to battle every day to keep an entire temple of mannerless, sword-wielding ruffians—and their dogs; Jaq, I’m warning you, get down
now—
from eating their way through my stores like a swarm of locusts.”

Spar couldn’t help but smirk as Kemal looked insulted.

“So, what do you get out of it?” Brax asked.

“She gets to push them around all day,” Kemal answered.

Tanay chuckled at his sour tone. “Well, that’s certainly a benefit,” she allowed, then her expression grew serious. “But I also get to take care of people, which is something I’ve always been good at.” She touched Brax’s cheek just below the angry red cut left by Drove’s knife. “Will you let me take care of you, Delin?”

Brax’s face grew pinched. He made to say something flip, then just gave a quick shrug. “I guess so.”

“And Spar?” She turned and he felt his face flush. “Will you let me take care of you also?”

He stared into her eyes for a long moment, then nodded. After stepping cautiously out from behind Brax, he very slowly put his hand in hers.

Now, he pushed up the silken sleeve of the overlarge nightshirt he’d been given and sniffed at the strange aroma beneath the bandage. Most of his injuries felt better, but this one was starting to throb again. She’d said it was infected and had suggested the infirmary again but had dropped the subject when he’d vehemently shook his head. He didn’t trust physicians any more than Brax did; he’d seen the effects of their work in the marketplaces and on the streets, and there was no proof that this temple’s people were any better. Most only cared about their fee and the ten percent extra that went to their God. But Tanay had smiled reassuringly at him as if sensing his thoughts, then told him to come back if it started bothering him and she’d take care of it herself.

He nodded his head with a dreamy smile. It was bothering him, so he could go and see her and she would take care of it; she would take care of
him.

Very slowly, so as not to disturb Brax, he eased himself off the enormous and overly soft bed pallet. When his bare feet touched the thick woolen carpet, Jaq raised his head, and Spar put a finger to his lips. He’d never liked dogs much, they barked when you wanted them to be quiet and were quiet when you wanted them to bark, but Jaq was different. For some reason he felt safer with the great red animal beside him. He indicated that the dog should follow him with a jerk of his head and, surprisingly, Jaq dropped the sheep shank he’d been chewing on and stepped down from the pallet both carefully and silently. Even so, Spar peered at Brax to make sure the gentle motion hadn’t disturbed him.

The older boy looked five years younger in the dim light, his dark olive skin pale with exhaustion, his face gaunt under its cap of heavy black hair, clean and shining for the first time in days. His expression was peaceful, even trusting; the Battle God’s protection had allowed him to fall into a truly deep sleep for the first time since Cindar’d been killed and for that Spar was grateful. She would look after him. With Jaq padding along behind him, he slipped silently through the door, the nightshirt bunched up in one fist to keep from tripping over it.