The Assassins of Tamurin

by S. D. Tower

  “And how do you think the Despotana of Tamurin will answer my proposals?” he asked.

  Terem had never asked me about Mother’s policies, because he knew of and respected my filial loyalty to her. While I thought about how to answer, I studied the place god. He was a sardonic-looking fellow, with a sharp chin under a pale beard of lichen.

  “I don’t know what Tamurin can offer you,” I said. “You need the other four Despots because their brigades can support your forces in the field, or at the least they can threaten to outflank Ardavan from the south. But Mother has no common border with Bethiya or the Six Kingdoms, and her army isn’t among the larger ones.”

  ‘True, but those mountain pikemen of hers are exceptional. Even a brigade, if she could spare it, would stiffen my infantry more than two of Guidarat’s. Also, Tamurine ships could endanger the sailing routes to Kuijain, if the Despotana were hostile to me. She’s never attempted to interfere with Bethiyan sea trade, but an alliance would ensure against it.”

  “Well,” I said, “she hates the Exiles as much as anyone. She might agree to help you, especially if you add the guarantees.”

  “Talk to her quietly on my behalf, then. Tell her how much she’s needed.”

  “I’ll try.”

  He touched my chin to tum my face to his. “Lale, this has to be said, especially now that Üie Despotana is coming to Kuijain. You know how I came to sit on the dais of Bethiya. I was a child then, and I had no hand in it, but if what happened to your adoptive mother could affect the tmst I put in you, tell me now.”

  You had no hand in it, I thought, but the Chancellor did. That was what I told myself, to quiet the twinge of discomfort that lying to Terem now aroused in me. These twinges had troubled me more frequently of late; in fact, although I was loath to admit it, the deceits that had earlier flowed so sweetly off my tongue now left a faintly bitter taste. Only when I reminded myself that I lied to protect those I loved did the savor become palatable.

  So I said, “It’s tme I owe her my filial regard, but I belong to you now, Terem, not to her, and she would never want me to deny my bond to you. And to the best of my knowledge, she wants only to rule quietly in Tamurin, keep her school for her daughters, and have nobody trouble her.”

  “I have no intention of troubling her,” Terem said. “But when you speak to her, tell her how much I'd value her help. And assure her that she’s under no threat from Bethiya.”

  “I will,” I answered, and we left it at that.

  Mother arrived late the following aftemoon, but with much less ceremony than the other Despots had enjoyed. Even her escort was half the size of those the other Despots had dragged in their wake. Had I been more astute, I might have realized that this betrayed her obsession with concealment and secrecy. But seeing that I shared a little of that obsession myself, perhaps I would have found nothing odd about it.

  Like the other Despots, she and her entourage had come up the Short Canal aboard several passenger slippers. Terem and I—on this occasion without the govemment ministers— went in the Auspicious Moon to greet her as she disembarked at the Jacinth Fortress. I hoped she’d received the letter concerning my new status, and I was waiting with delicious anticipation for her to see me beside the Sun Lord, in my rich new clothes and my fashionable plumed hat with a big drooping brim.

  I wasn’t disappointed. Mother spotted me on the sequina’s deck as she disembarked from the slipper. A smile of delight and recognition spread over her face, and I knew the courier had found her.

  The official greetings had to be dealt with before we talked, but during the ceremony I hardly took my eyes from her. She’d outwardly changed very little, and was still a short, dumpy woman of indeterminate age with a plain round face. She had violated Kurjain fashion by not wearing an elaborate hat, and her clothing did not draw the eye, either. But none of this mattered to me, because I was so happy to see her again and hear her lovely melodious voice.

  With all the bustle, it was not until we were aboard the sequina that Terem could tum to her and say, “My Lady Despotana, Lale and I have written to tell you that she has consented to be my Inamorata. I gather from your demeanor that you have received this letter, and I earnestly entreat you to approve the match we have made.”

  Mother put her hand on my arm—we were seated on benches on the Auspicious Moon's afterdeck—and leaned toward him. “My joy in comparison with yours,” she said, “is as a dewdrop beside the Great Green, but it is still great. You have my blessings, and I implore the Beneficent Ones to forever give you the greatest delight in each other.”

  She kissed me on both cheeks, and then she and Terem also exchanged kisses. For her it must have been like kissing a serpent, but she showed no distaste. I marveled at her poise and resolved that mine would always equal it.

  But what with getting her installed in her quarters and then attending the evening banquet, we found no time to talk. After the meal we exchanged a few words, and she promised we’d meet privately as soon as she could arrange it. But much of the next day she spent with the other rulers, listening to Terem argue for his scheme of alliance, so it was not until late in the aftemoon that she came alone to the Reed Pavilion. She found me waiting on the veranda. I’d already dismissed my domestics to spend the night in the servants’ compound, and the house was empty.

  I sank to my knees and bowed my head as she approached. She took my hands in hers and raised me up, and in that warm sweet voice she said, “Lale, how beautiful you’ve become. It would seem that palace life suits you.”

  I bowed modestly. “My honored mother is gracious to praise the undistinguished features of her worthless daughter. And it is only through her ceaseless labors that I have reached a station so far above my scanty merit.”

  She burst out laughing and so, after a moment, did I. “Lale,” she said, “you’ve become a very good actress. You have never for a moment believed yourself to be of scanty merit, but you sounded most convincing.”

  “I do my best to be convincing,” I told her. “So far, apparently, I have succeeded.”

  “Indeed,” she answered in a suddenly serious voice. “And a very good thing that is, too. Your servants?”

  “Dismissed.”

  “Even so, we shall talk in a more out-of-the-way place. Come.”

  I was about to say I'd take her wherever she wanted to go. But then I remembered that she knew Jade Lagoon long before I did, and I obediently followed her along the path beside the outer fortification wall. I asked her lots of innocuous questions about Repose and the school, wondering all the while if she found her memories of the palace distressing. But I saw no sign of it.

  I didn’t realize, until we had reached the place, where she was leading me. We stopped; I looked at the carved wooden gate, and at the wall in which it stood, and I heard the sound of running water.

  “Mother?” I ventured. “This goes to—

  “I know where it goes,” she said. “Open it.”

  I obeyed. The door swung silently on greased hinges. Beyond lay the Water Terrace, where her son had died so cruelly.

  I watched Mother with worry in my heart. I knew she was in terrible pain, and I hated the brutal men who had inflicted it on her. For a moment it sickened me that Terem, even though he had had no hand in the killings, was my lover.

  “Must you go in?” I asked.

  She nodded and went through the gate. I followed. We walked along the path that led across the lower terrace to a wooden bench and the plum tree that shaded it. A little waterfall tumbled over red-veined gray rocks nearby and splashed into a pebbled chaimel that meandered through the greenery. The ground cover’s flowers had become tiny seed pods since I'd last been here, the crimson specks sprinkled thickly among its leaves.

  Mother sat on the bench and gestured for me to join her. When I'd settled myself she said, “No one will hear us over the sound of the water. What do you know of the usurper’s plans for these Despotate alliances?”

  I told her ever
ything he’d told me, none of which was very alarming. “But I think he sees Yazar as the best prospect for an ally,” I ended. “Yazar’s the richest of all the river Despots, even if he spends every spade that comes into his hands. I wrote to you that the Sun Lord once told me he wished Yazar had a daughter for him to marry.”

  “So you did.” She touched my hand. “In fact, Lale, you’ve exceeded my greatest expectations of you. I thought at the best that you’d become his mistress. I never hoped you’d captivate him enough to be his Inamorata.”

  My cheeks grew warm with pleasure. She had never praised me so highly. “I did my best,” I mumbled.

  “I knew you would. But what you did with that Hot Sky conspiracy—that was brilliant. You could have found no better way to gain his trust.”

  “It was luck,” I pointed out. “I didn’t arrange for it to happen.”

  “But you saw the chance, seized it, and tumed it to your advantage. That’s the mark of an adept. Even Nilang could have done no better.”

  “You honor me too much,” I said, although I was feeling very pleased with myself.

  “Do you feel he tmsts you now?”

  “Very much so. Since I came to live in the palace, we’ve been eating most of our moming and evening meals together. He talks freely about the Chancellery’s doings and about the War Ministry. He’s very proud of the new cavalry brigades and tells me a lot about them.” I went on at some length about troop dispositions, supply arrangements, cavalry remount tallies, and the like.

  When I finished she asked, “And he doesn’t worry that you’ll pass such information to me?”

  “No. He thinks my loyalty is to him alone, and anyway he doesn’t consider you a threat. Neither does Halis Geray.” “And why should they?” she said softly, as if to herself. “How could Tamurin and poor Makina Seval threaten mighty Bethiya? Me with my meager four brigades against

  the Sun Lord’s myriads? What use would such information be to me, the usurper thinks, even if I had it? What contempt I suffer.”

  “There’s more,” I said. I told her about the army engineers Terem had recently sent east, and the strengthening of the Jacinth and Pearl river flotillas that Kirkin, in a fit of self-importance because he was drafting the orders, had told me about.

  “What sort of craft?” Mother asked.

  “Troop carriers and rams. Also artillery boats—catapults, mostly, but stone kickers as well.”

  “Hm. What else?”

  “The Chancellery has been exchanging messages with King Garhang of Lindu. Terem told me the King wants Bethiya’s support against Ardavan, but Garhang doesn’t want to give anything in exchange. Terem has asked him to allow free movement of the Durdana out of Lindu, but Garhang balks.” Mother snorted. “Of course he does. If Garhang opened the border, every Durdana in his kingdom would run away. This Sun Lord is making conditions he knows the Exile won’t accept. But would Bethiya give Lindu aid under any circumstances, do you think?”

  ‘Terem’s extremely uneasy about that. He says the people would be very angry if he helped an Exile King, unless he got something very important in exchange. It goes much against his grain, too.”

  “So he won’t likely ally Bethiya to Lindu, no matter how threatening Ardavan seems, even if these talks with the Despots fail?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Very well. This is a situation I want you to watch carefully. Now, is there anything else?”

  “I’m ashamed to say there is not.”

  She patted my hand. “What you’ve given me is excellent. And so much of it revealed over dinner . . . but the pillow talk? Men are apt to gossip after the woman has sated them, assuming they don’t tum over and go to sleep.”

  I felt myself turning pink, which was silly, because she’d asked a professional question, not a personal one. I said, “He doesn’t do either. He prefers to talk about lesser matters. Things from his childhood, places in Bethiya he thinks I might want to see. I don’t think it’s wise to prompt him in other directions. It would be out of character for me, and he might wonder.”

  “Yes, one must be patient in these things. . . . Does he please you as a man?”

  I had hoped she wouldn’t ask this. The truth was that the excitement Terem aroused in me was both profound and intense, and I had been participating in our nightly intimacies with a shameless lack of reserve.

  But I couldn’t prevaricate with her. “He does please me that way,” I admitted. “I can’t seem to help it.” Would she order me to stop experiencing these new pleasures? It would be like trying not to taste wine while it sloshed around in my mouth.

  But Mother didn’t seem perturbed. “Such feelings are natural,” she assured me. “The usurper is not without allure, and his power adds to the erotic aura. However, I must wam you against a possible risk in such gratification. While the pleasure is purely of an animal nature, in a woman it can eventually arouse tender emotions toward the man, even if these were absent in the beginning. So I caution you, Lale— remember always whose daughter you are, and never let this person’s outward nature blind you to his inward one. He would slaughter you in an instant, and me with you, if he knew the tmth about us. A tenth of what you’ve just told me would be sufficient to condemn us both.”

  “I’ll be very careful,” I said humbly. I was grateful that she understood and hadn’t rebuked me.

  “And you must be careful not to get with child,” she went on. “It would hamper your activities. Nilang is seeing to that?”

  “Yes. I use the preparations she gives me.”

  “Good. Now, to other practical matters. How much freedom of movement do you have? How do you spend your days? Do you have trouble seeing Nilang, now that you live in the palace?”

  I described my routine at Reed Pavilion, which began with a dawn breakfast before Terem went off to his labors. Usually I had a nap after he left, to recover from the night’s pleasures. On rising, I might read for a while or stroll about the palace grounds. I avoided the covered walk where I’d seen Merihan’s ghost; one encounter with that unhappy spirit was more than enough. I had very few domestic staff by palace standards: two older women to keep the pavilion clean and tidy, and a girl from Sutkagin who saw to my personal needs and served Terem and me our meals.

  In the afternoons I often went into the city, sometimes to visit friends. Many doors had opened to me in the aftermath of the Hot Sky Plot, and I could have spent every waking moment being entertained. But most often I went to oversee the furnishing and decorating of the villa Terem had given me. It wasn’t a big place, but it was very elegant and comfortable, with a courtyard garden and three balconies overlooking the glittering band of Cloud Mirror Canal. Even though I’d spent little time there as yet, I loved it. It was the first home I’d ever owned, and every time I stepped onto its boat landing I thought of the hovels of Riversong and smiled.

  As for getting around, Terem had put a sequina at my disposal, but I preferred to use the common periangs licensed for the palace mooring basin. “And an escort?” Mother asked, when I told her this. “He doesn’t let you go about Kurjain without protection, surely?”

  TTiat question, in fact, had brought Terem and me close to our first real quarrel. I’d said I didn’t want palace guardsmen tramping behind me everywhere I went, especially when I was with friends. He said it was imperative. I was too well known and not everyone loved him—the Hot Sky Plot proved that—and I should be more carefiil. I told him the conspirators were all dead and nobody would hurt me. Then

  I said I simply wouldn’t stand for it and that I hadn’t agreed to be his Inamorata to lose my freedom, and did he now want a different Lale from the one he’d fallen in love with, a Lale who wouldn’t put her nose out of doors unless she had a clutch of sweaty soldiers to protect her?

  He still protested vehemently but stopped short of making it an injunction from the Sun Lord, which I could not have disobeyed. Finally we compromised: If I went out by myself I’d wear a wig and some sub
tle face paint. For fun, I got several wigs from the Porcelain Pavilion stage stocks and tried to look a little different every time I slipped out of the palace. My friends thought it was hilarious.

  What I’d been worried about, of course, was having my escort interfere with my visits to Nilang. No doubt I could have dragged the men to her house and made them wait outside—^not even the Chancellor questioned my apparent penchant for spirit summoners, especially since he’d investigated them all and discovered nothing. But doing so would have increased my risk of detection slightly, and this way was better.

  I told Mother how I’d managed the problem. She nodded in approval but said, “Nevertheless, don’t ever assume the Chancellor isn’t suspicious of you. He’s suspicious of everyone. You may never know if, or when, he’s decided to watch you again.”

  I said I’d be very careful and then told her about the ghost of the Surina. Mother frowned, pondering the matter. Then she said, “Has anyone else seen it?”

  “Yes, several times. But not Terem, and nobody’s told him.” “Don’t you tell him, then. It’s nothing for you to worry about, especially since other people saw it before you did. She’ll stop walking as time goes by.”

  I agreed, and then asked a question that had puzzled me for some time: How was Mother managing without Nilang? The sorceress had been in Kuijain as long as I had, after all.

  “Nilang is more valuable here with you,” she told me. “You, of all my daughters, need her most.”

  “But what about Three Springs?”

  “It’s no longer the Midnight School, as you girls used to call it. The instructors are still there, for when I need it again, but I’ve decided I have a sufficiency of my special daughters for the moment. So I’ve closed it, and Tossi has come back to Repose to help me. So Nilang is perfectly free to be here.”

  “I see. Is Dilara well?”

  “She’s very well. After you, she is the prize of the Midnight School.”

  I was very pleased that Mother regarded my old friend almost as highly as she did me. “I’d like to see her again,” I suggested hopefully.