Sword and Verse (6 page)

Gyotia reached into the mountain and threw a handful of its fire into the sky, where it shone, fierce and bright. Then he bid it hide for part of each day, so that the earth made from his limbs would not grow too hot.

So it has always been with light, that it must coexist with darkness.

IN THE CARRIAGE
back to the palace with Laiyonea, I dared a question: “What's a qodder?”

Laiyonea's attention snapped to me at once. “Where did you hear that? Did one of the others in the pantomime say it?”

“No, I just . . . overheard it, and I wondered—”

“Ignore it. Only a fool would call you that.”

“But what does it mean?” I asked timidly.

“It is . . . a term used by those too ignorant to understand how things are, to belittle those of us who do understand. It comes from the use of qodal to dye one's hair black.” She touched the ebony knot at the base of her neck. “As if any of us could forget our place.”

I kept quiet after that.

Back at the palace, a luncheon for the players and their families waited in the garden. The poppies and blue lotuses were in
full bloom, a spill of color under the bright sun. Laiyonea was immediately hailed by the Trade Minister, so I took a seat on the edge of the fountain.

I stiffened when I heard Mati and his cousin Patic, who had traveled from the Valley of Qora to play one of the ancient chieftains in the pantomime, coming along the path behind me. I had nearly convinced myself that I'd imagined that moment behind the stage. Here in the sunlight it seemed impossible that the prince would do something so rash.
Forget about it,
I told myself. It was nothing—it wasn't even the most shocking thing that had happened today.

“Bet you're glad the show's over, cousin,” Patic was saying as they neared me. “You had so many guards around you couldn't even water the fields, if you know what I mean.”

“Too bad they couldn't keep out the riffraff from the valley,” Mati retorted, aiming a mock punch at Patic's arm.

Now that he mentioned it, I realized that the temple and stage
had
been unusually well guarded. “Why were there so many guards?” I asked.

Mati turned and met my eyes, then looked away quickly. “Oh, with me being on stage, the guard captain thought today was especially dangerous. There've been some escapes from the quarries, and attacks at the docks. Father thinks the Resistance is involved.”

I nodded stiffly. Jonis had been right there in the temple. And Kiti had been helping him. The Resistance had gotten past the guards, and had gotten back out unscathed, by all appearances. I was glad they hadn't been caught, but . . . would they have hurt
Mati, given the chance? The thought turned my stomach to ice.

The luncheon bells rang. Mati shot me a swift, searching look as we joined the others on the path.

The Qilarite servants had set up round tables at the center of the garden, under a lacy roof of intertwined branches from the surrounding trees. I sat between Patic and Aliana, which, considering the possible alternatives, was a relief. I had a vague sense that Mati had arranged this, but I didn't dare speculate on what that might mean.

Aliana was practically mute for the entire meal. Patic, however, carried on a lively conversation with the War Minister's son on his other side. I picked at my food, my mind returning to the temple changing room. I'd told Jonis to leave me alone out of fear, plain and simple. I couldn't feel guilty for wanting to avoid the kind of horrible execution that Tyasha had suffered. Still, Jonis was right—I'd had no intention of telling anyone about his visit.

But the thought of Mati being in danger from the Resistance made me half want to report them to the guards. Then I wouldn't have to deal with Jonis or his messengers again, I thought, with mingled relief and self-loathing. But how could I report Jonis without getting Kiti into trouble, and without saying what he'd asked me to do? They had indeed trapped me neatly; I'd be accused of working with the Resistance. I hadn't called for help at once—that would be enough to condemn me.

“Mati's a good actor, isn't he?” said Patic.

I realized he was talking to me. “Yes, I suppose,” I replied vaguely.

“Always has been.” Patic's grin was impish, a bit like the
prince's. “When we were little, Mati would stay with us in the rainy season. He loved our cook's pomegranate tarts. Once he sneaked off and ate five before I found him. There he was, covered in sticky red filling, insisting with every breath that I'd eaten the tarts. My father believed him too.”

I couldn't help smiling. “Well, he's the prince,” I said.

“He was also very convincing in his indignation. I learned to watch my back with him.” Patic nodded affectionately. “He's lucky my aunt married the king. He wouldn't last five minutes in the country.”

“Oh, yes,” I said. “He mentioned that you live in the Valley of Qora.” With a pang, I remembered the day Mati had described the other players while teaching me the second tenset of the higher order symbols. His impression of Soraya Gamo's reaction to Patic's country accent had made me laugh so hard I'd nearly knocked over an inkpot.

“I run the operations for my father's olive farm, so I'm often back and forth to the city on business,” said Patic. “Do a decent side business in message delivery too.”

“That reminds me,” said the War Minister's son, drawing Patic's attention back to himself. “I have a scroll for you to deliver on your way home.”

I glanced at the prince as the conversation moved away from me. Patic was right—Mati was a good actor. The way he'd delivered his lines so naturally, the way he spoke deferentially to Penta Rale even though I'd often heard him mock the man in the Adytum. The way he laughed with the others now, as if nothing had happened behind that stage . . .

With sudden clarity, Patic's voice came to my ears.

“The wind has shifted. The rains soon will come from the ocean, I think.”

I froze, my fork clanging against my plate. I forced myself to spear a piece of goat cheese and chew it, giving myself time to think.

But those weren't the words Jonis had said I would hear, were they? Not exactly right . . . but so close.

Beneath my fear fluttered something else, something that seemed to say,
“At least the Resistance is fighting back.”
But what good had that ever done the Arnathim? My brother had fought back, and the raiders had skewered him.

All I had left of my family was my life and my heart-verse, and I wouldn't throw either of them away.

I swallowed the cheese and looked up. Patic was drinking from his goblet, watching me over the rim. I couldn't tell if his gaze was expectant or not.

“Really?” I said. “I didn't feel it.”

From time to time, the gods descended from the mountain to visit the sea or hunt in the western forests. From their footsteps sprang creatures like in form to the gods, but far smaller and weaker. At first the gods paid no more attention to these mewling pests than a rich man does to the dirt he tracks upon the floor for a servant to clean.

I ESCAPED TO
the Adytum as soon as I could. Though Laiyonea had canceled lessons because of the Festival of Aqil, I still had to tend to the asotis, and afterward I relished the time alone.

I pulled out my heart-verse and forced myself to examine each character, but other thoughts kept creeping in. Jonis in the basement room, Mati touching my arm . . . his warm breath on my cheek . . .

Stop it,
I told myself for the hundredth time. It was insane to think about it. Kissing the prince was a sure way to lose my post, maybe my life. And even if, somehow, that didn't happen, I didn't need any distractions from my work. Being a good Tutor would keep me alive; if I failed, there would be no going back to my old life of cleaning, not with the things I knew. And I had to keep learning, to figure out my heart-verse. That was
more important than anything else.

It was best, really, to forget about the prince's touch. It had been nothing—a slip resulting from the small space and the dark, and the energy of the pantomime.

And what about Jonis? I couldn't report him, and didn't really want to. But I didn't want him to approach me again either. If only I could go back to blissful ignorance of the Resistance and its doings . . .

Unbidden, his words came back to me:
“You don't mind if Arnath children are worked to death or Arnath women are raped by their masters or Arnath men die in the quarries, as long as
you're
comfortable in the palace.”

My fingers curled angrily around the edges of my heart-verse. What did he know? I'd been taking risks my whole life, just being alive as the daughter of a Learned One. And what could I possibly do to change all those horrible things? He was mad to think that learning to write would help the Resistance defeat anyone.

I returned my heart-verse to its hiding place and rearranged the flowers over the gap. A playful shout from the beach made me peer over the wall; a knot of young people lounged down by the water. Soraya Gamo stood in the shallows, smoothing her hair with one hand, watching Patic splash her giggling sisters. The others sat under the palms farther up the beach. I tried not to search for anyone in particular, but I soon found Mati, laughing at Patic.

I swallowed hard. And then there was Patic. I couldn't believe that Patic would harm Mati, or would help anyone who wanted to do so. Besides, the words he'd said at the luncheon weren't quite
right—the more I thought about it, the more I was certain that I'd been imagining things. After all, he'd simply shrugged and gone back to talking to the others after I had answered him.

Fourth bell rang, and I hurried through the palace, intent on reaching the front corridor while the Qilarite servants were busy in the kitchens preparing for the night's banquet. As I passed the guards outside the Library, I kept my hand at my side, concealing the bread protruding from my pocket. Stung by Jonis's accusations, I had stolen a larger piece at the luncheon than I'd ever dared before. I smiled, imagining Linti's delight when she found it.

I slipped into the cavity under the stairs. As I didn't have a cloth to wrap the bread in, I started to leave it on the dusty stone floor. But then I noticed a white bundle in the corner. I crept closer to peek inside, and found three muffins, two teacakes, and a mound of dates. My hand hovered over the food as I realized that I'd told only one other person, besides Linti, about this spot.

I exhaled. It was all over. The easy days in the Adytum, talking to him like an equal. It had to be over, because the emotion that raced through me now was too dangerous, too close.

I closed my eyes.
Just forget it happened,
I told myself.

If only I could.

When I entered the banquet room beside Laiyonea that night, I couldn't help darting a look at the prince, sitting with his father at the head table. I hated how much care I had taken to dress—what reason was there to do so?—but I'd finally settled on a white dress with deep green sleeves.

The vibrant colors worn by the Qilarite nobles made my gown seem pale and drab. I hadn't had much choice, however, as everything the Tutors wore was white and green—white to show that we were handmaidens of the god Aqil, and green to show that we were still Arnath slaves, no matter how many palace functions we attended.

As Laiyonea and I took our seats, Prince Mati shot us an easy smile that encompassed us both. It was so exactly like the smile he would have given me the day before that I had to look down to hide the crashing disappointment in my chest.

All through the meal I distracted myself by going over the higher order symbols I had learned so far and tracing them in my palm under the table. It almost worked. I almost didn't notice the procession of completely useless Scholar daughters coming up to flirt with the prince. I couldn't tell whether he enjoyed it or not.

Gritting my teeth, I wrote
restraint
in my left palm.

Though King Tyno had responded with hardly more than a grunt to the Trade Minister when he praised Mati's pantomime performance, he laughed at the joking comments the western vizier, Del Gamo, kept making about the girls. I wanted to throw my goblet at both of them. Gamo's wife sat at another table full of veiled wives, but their three daughters sat with their father at the king's table, as even the eldest was not yet betrothed. Not many men would take pride in a houseful of girls, but the western vizier boasted about Soraya and Alshara and Aliana constantly. Of course, he had no need to worry about their dowries. Gamo's lands spanned the gold and silver mines around Pira, on the western coast of Qilara, and he was reputed to be wealthier even
than the king. The golden necklaces and earrings the twins wore attested to this, as did the large purple jewel at Soraya's throat.

At our table, the War Minister boasted about capturing eleven Arnath slaves stowed away aboard a trading ship bound for heathen Emtiria in the east. I wondered uncomfortably if Jonis and Kiti had been involved in the escape attempt.

After the meal, Laiyonea pressed me to finish my fig cake, but I wasn't hungry. The bell dance began. For the first time, I would have liked to join the circle. It had nothing to do with the fact that there was an opening next to the prince. But Laiyonea said that dancing was not an appropriate pastime for a prince's Tutor. Soraya Gamo took the open place.

I didn't mind at all when Laiyonea said it was time to retire. Noticing my mood as we lit candles for evening invocations in our sitting room, she laid a hand on my forehead, then sent for sunamara tea for me to drink before bed.

After I had drunk every drop to appease her, she sent me into my room and locked me in. She must have gone back down to the banquet, as she didn't usually lock my door when she was in her room. I had to cross her bedroom to get to the sitting room, so she would have known if I left. I wondered if Laiyonea used to lock Tyasha ke Demit in at night, or if she locked me in because she
wished
she had done so.

Still, any foolish, fleeting thoughts I might have had of sneaking out were dashed when the heavy lock bar slid into place. I undressed awkwardly—the tea had left me sluggish—and slipped into my loose sleeping gown. The servants had already opened the willow shutters to the evening breeze, so the sounds of the
celebration in the streets below wafted up to me as I blew out the lamp and lay down.

Be grateful,
I told myself. I'd had two narrow escapes today—from the prince's heated touch, from Jonis's heated demands, both dangers that could have wrecked my world. Tomorrow I would go back to the Adytum and continue my lessons. Nothing had changed, not really.

Except that yesterday, I had wanted nothing more than to learn the higher order script and decipher my heart-verse. Now, I had let myself want something else, something I would never have, something I had no right to want.

I turned to find a dry place on my pillow, and was drifting into a restless half sleep when I heard a noise at the window.

At first I thought the shutter had banged in the breeze, but then a shadow dropped from the window ledge into the room. I sat up and took a breath to scream, but the shadow dashed toward me and, for the second time that day, a hand clamped over my mouth.