by Doris Egan
To give her credit, Pina's voice didn't even waver. "I will, of course, answer truthfully, my lords. I have nothing to conceal. Ask your questions." The circle of fire blazed up a bit, but that was all. A good sign for her.
"We will first hear testimony from Ran Cormallon, a witness and possible co-defendant. Please enter the ring."
Oh-oh. Ran went down to the pit, and the fires parted to let him through. He ignored Pina. "At your service, gracious sirs."
"Sir Cormallon, please give us your estimate of Madame Pina's capabilities as a sorcerer."
"I can only answer for what little I've seen. She did the jobs I gave her well enough. Passable, I would say, but little creativity or style."
"Could she make such an error as this, in your opinion?"
He shrugged. "It's possible, gracious sirs. I really couldn't say."
The Yang woman spoke. "Did you have any inkling when you left that she might be planning this?"
"No," said Ran carefully, "when I left, I had absolutely no idea that she had anything like this in mind."
"Thank you. Please return to your seat. We may have other questions."
He sat down again beside me.
They questioned Pina for about half an hour. She denied having intended any harm, protested that she didn't know what had gone wrong with her spells, and speculated that some lesser, and jealous, sorcerer was trying to make her look bad. She asked for mercy. The four Yangs debated for several minutes.
"Madame Pina," said the first questioner finally, "we are willing to grant that your harm was probably accidental. However, regardless of intent, you have damaged the reputation of our House. We rely on the trust of the public. You will have to restore our integrity in their eyes." He looked around at his colleagues, who nodded, and turned back to Pina. "To redeem ourselves and show we had no connection with this unfortunate incident, we must condemn you professionally. We will make it clear that you are a risk, and that anyone who hires you does so at our displeasure. Most of your clients are not the sort who could afford to annoy us, and we regret ending your career in the capital."
Pina looked white.
The man went on, "But we have no wish to be vindictive, and though we may claim otherwise publicly I assure you we will not pursue this matter beyond the city boundaries. I would recommend a change of name. Thank you for your presence—"
"No, wait! My lords, please! I've spent years getting a name in this city—I won't go back to the provinces! Please, give me another chance. I can remove the spells, I know I can. Please." To my discomfort, she started to cry. The Yangs were filing out. I felt a tug and realized Ran was standing beside me.
"It's over," he said. I stood up.
"Wait, please!" called Pina. "Listen to me! How could I know this would happen? Please! Oh, please!"
The Yang judges were gone. Ran and I were at the chamber door. I looked back, and my last image was of her standing in the empty pit, an old man in green standing beside her, waiting patiently for her to finish so he could show her out.
We walked back to Ran's office, scuffing through the cinnaflowers that were all about on the sidewalks. The breeze ruffled through my robes with an unexpectedly cool tang, and I realized I had been sweating.
"It wasn't the way I thought it would be."
Ran was disappointed with my response. "It wasn't as severe as some would have made it," he said defensively, "but I thought you foreigners didn't like that sort of thing."
"Maybe we went too far."
"Too far?" He sighed. "If there is one thing I'll never understand, it's outplanet thinking. You people start fights as much as anyone, kick and claw as much as anyone, and then you pick your enemy up out of the dust, brush him off, and send him away with gold coins and 'Better luck tomorrow.' If Pina hadn't cried, you wouldn't be acting this way."
"She did cry, though, and I feel rotten."
"What have we done that was so terrible? All right, Pina won't be living her life where she planned on living it. How is that different from what she did to you?"
"She didn't know that what she did to me would be so serious—"
"When you interfere in someone's life you have to take the consequences."
"—and at least, with me, it's not for life. I'll be going home eventually.''
He was silent for a while. My robes swished over the white cinnablossoms. I stepped on one, deliberately, and as I lifted my foot the petals sprang back into place. Hardy flowers, the cinnas. They last until the autumn rains carry them down the gutters.
When Ran spoke there was a trace of anger in his voice. "You foreigners have no concept of honor—not to mention self-defense. You think you can forgive your ene-mies. That's crazy. One day your new friend is going to bring you down with your own knife, and serve you right." He muttered something under his breath. It sounded like "ishin na' telleth."
"Look," he said, "I'm going out to celebrate. You can come if you like. Otherwise I'll see you tomorrow."
"Go on ahead, then. I'm tired. I'm going home." So he went on to the office and I turned to go through the market to the inn.
I lay on the bed, soaking in nothingness. This room was very valuable to me, the closest thing to peace in the city. I looked at the ceiling of plaster and wood, the discoloration under the beam that showed when the light from the high slit window ran over it. It was quiet. I missed the fluteplayer.
A restless night followed. I got up for the third time to use the privy down the hall. By the hall window I stopped to feel the breeze; this window faced the courtyard, rather than the street, and so was cut bigger than mine. Moonlight shone on the well and I saw lights in the windows across the way. I made my way back to my room. Outside the door I stopped.
I was usually far from intuitive, but the sudden and compelling feeling pricked at me that something was wrong. I reached out hesitantly to touch the door. It was red-hot.
I backed away, stood for a moment in confusion, and ran down the stairs to wake the innkeeper.
I left them pouring water over what was left of my possessions. My money was gone; I'd locked the door and left the money belt under the mattress (the first place anyone would look but my choices were few) and the last I saw of it was as a charred heap of metal among wet ashes. Whatever was salvageable from it my neighbors got to before I could. After an hour or more of people rushing through with buckets—there are better ways of fighting fires on Ivory, but the protective association my inn belonged to couldn't afford them—I decided to slip out before the innkeeper thought to stop me. It had just occurred to me that I might be held liable for the damages.
I found myself stripped down to my skivvies on a dark street, without money, my card pouch still dangling by my waist. I was never without the cards, at any rate; being cautious to the point of fanaticism, I literally wore them everywhere. ("Detail-oriented," my advisor used to say on Athena. I just looked at it as avoiding trouble in advance.)
But I hadn't been quite as fanatic about my money, which was strange, but this wasn't the time to analyze the matter. I needed clothes and shelter, meaning more money. I naturally thought of Ran. He would be out celebrating somewhere by now; looking at the moons I saw to my surprise that it was only about the fifth hour. I found a quiet corner and began laying out the cards on the pavement.
The Lantern Gardens are not the sort of place where one goes in one's underwear. On Athena—although somehow I couldn't see the situation rising on Athena— I would have blushed and hidden behind a bush. But since then I had spent two years in Trade Square, where anyone can do anything, and shame has yet to be invented. The manager told me that sir Cormallon was not there (I knew he was from the cards) and said I simply could not walk through the restaurant like this. I told him he'd better supply the tablecloth to wrap me in, because I planned on going through. Really, I thought, how can this man be so upset? And the Lantern Gardens famous for their naked floorshow. Unless he felt the sight of my particular body would ruin his patrons' appetites, a
nd I couldn't argue with him there. On Ivory, at least, I'm not to everyone's taste.
Ran was at a table with a woman, which did not surprise me; he'd had me run the cards several times on matters dealing with his private life. She was exotic by local standards; blonde hair piled up with a jade pin, slant black eyes. She caught sight of me first, making my way to their table, and the black eyes opened wide. I suppose I did look rather alarming, in a red-and-black studded tease-gown belonging to one of the performers, and far too big for me.
Ran turned to see what his companion was staring at. To my disappointment, there was no surprise at all in his face. "Something come up?" he inquired laconically.
I told him about it. "So I need an advance, for clothes and food and that sort of thing—"
He was getting up. "Sorry to cut things short, my dear," he said to the woman. "I'm afraid I'll have to be leaving." He started to count out some coins onto the table. "Please feel free to continue the evening as my guest. I hope I can ask for you again?" He turned to me. "Let's go."
"What? Look, you don't have to leave. I just need some money. I left the inn before there could be any trouble, you don't have to worry about my being arrested, or having to pay anybody off…" He was drumming his fingers on the table. He gave me a few seconds to realize that there might be more going on than I knew about, and he might not want to explain in front of someone else. "All right," I said, shifting gears. "Let's go."
In an attack of upper class formality, Ran took my arm. Necessity had carried me beautifully through the evening up till now, but all at once I became acutely conscious of what I was wearing. Ran didn't seem to notice.
"Let's go out that way," I said, pointing to a shadowy area of the restaurant.
"Nonsense." We started down the main aisle. By the time we were halfway to the door I had to stop myself from laughing. The manager was staring from the side with a horrified look on his face. Some patrons stared openly, while others studiously looked around their winecups and over their forks and just past me. My partner was serenely oblivious. I was taken by a great feeling of fondness for him at that moment.
Near the door I spotted a face that looked familiar, a face that didn't seem to belong in the Gardens. I recog-nized the Athenan embassy officer sitting at a table. He ought to know me, as well; I'd practically camped out in his office for weeks after the Julia left, begging for a loan, either official or personal; at least a subradio check with Athena so he could know whether to extend me credit. Surely his budget covered that, I kept saying. The bastard—the kanz—claimed he couldn't do anything without my I.D.—stolen, of course, along with everything else. I waved at him as we went out.
"What's going on?" I asked outside.
"I'm not making the same mistake twice," he said, and shook his head because the carriage he'd been hailing pulled up. The horse was six-footed, but rather old, and I could sense Ran straining to hurry the driver on. We got out at the office, where we climbed briskly up the four flights of stairs to the roof. I'd never been up there before. Under an overhang in the corner of the empty cistern was a small aircar.
"Where are we going?" I asked, climbing in.
He fiddled with the controls. "Home," he said, leaning back in the seat with a sigh. For the first time since I'd known him I saw him relax.
Chapter Three
We flew until the sun came up. All around us I saw the shadows of what by day were sun-browned fields, irrigation channels, small groves and lakes, followed by vineyards, followed by hills covered with trees at the height of summer growth. We had come far to the northwest—far, at least, to me, who had never been more than three kilometers from Trade Square.
"It begins here," said Ran, and I opened my mouth to ask what began there, when the air shimmered, wavering before my sight like the capital on a hot day. Then it straightened again, and I knew we had just passed a sorcerous barrier.
More hills then, and trees, and in the midst of them, fast approaching, an expanse of greenery that flaunted human attention: streams, gardens, arched bridges, and small houses tucked away here and there. In the center of all rose a huge house of white stone, with steps leading to the front doors. I caught a glimpse of the inner courtyard and then we were down.
Ran sat for a minute tapping on the controls. No one came out to greet us; the early-morning quiet felt very strange after everything I had been through.' "This is going to be awkward," he said. "Getting you inside, I mean."
I knew what he meant. It's not that members of one family never visited another; if your families have been allies for the past five hundred years, and nobody has offended anybody in all that time, you might be asked over. My own position was less clearly defined.
"Well, waiting won't help," he said. So we got out and climbed the steps to the high green doors. He rested the palm of his hand against them and said, "I've come home."
The doors opened, gently, with an inward swing. As we passed through, I saw they were at least ten centimeters thick. A long, wide corridor led to the heart of the house; at its end a man appeared, jogging down the length toward us. He was gray-haired but vigorous, in a short green robe, bare-armed, with a gold band around his wrist. He stopped and stared at me.
"Don't panic, now," said Ran, not to me but to the man. "In fact, Jad, don't pay any attention at all. She's not really here yet."
"I, ah, see," said Jad, recovering. "I was sent to tell you breakfast is being served. Your grandmother is aware that you're back, and expects you at the table."
"She would."
"She also wants to talk to you about the—foreign object—you brought through the barrier.'' He carefully did not look at me.
"Mmm. Yes. Tell her I'll be right there, that I have to wash first."
"I will." He turned to go, but looked back again for a moment. "Best of luck, youngster," he said to Ran, and then he vanished quickly down a passage.
"Better hurry," said Ran, pulling my arm, and like Jad before us we were jogging down the corridor. It ended in a staircase; we trotted up without even a pause. A woman passed us coming down, a gold band on her wrist. She halted in shock. "Never mind, Herel. She's not really here," said Ran, hustling me past. I looked back and saw her staring up at us, her mouth an O.
We entered a small room on the second floor. I sat on the bed while he paced. "All right," he said, "there's no need to worry. I'll go down first and explain to Grandmother why you're here. She'll understand; she's very radical, in her way. I should have gotten you clothes.
Never mind. I wonder where Tagra is." He stopped pacing, which was good, as I might have gotten violent. "All right. Wait here, don't go out, and I'll be back in a few minutes." The doorway had a red curtain over it; he flung it back and left.
I waited. And to think that just a few hours ago I had been sleeping in my own room at the inn, refuge and symbol of whatever peace Ivory had to offer me. I decided there was no reason not to lie down while I could.
Someone was trying to wake me up. "Here," said Ran's voice. He let a white silk robe slip from his arm to the bed. "I found some clothes for you."
"I look stupid in white."
"Wake up, come on. It's all I could find, anyhow, so it will have to do. Grandmother's waiting."
I got up and slipped it over my head. Ran was pacing again. I unhooked the absurd Lantern Gardens gown underneath and it fell around my feet. They were still dirty in their sandals from the fire.
He said, "Be polite, I don't have to tell you that. You don't have to mention why we're here—"
"Good, because I don't know why we're here." We started down the staircase.
"And Grandmother is nobly born, so remember to address her that way. I'll show you where to sit. And don't hesitate about taking any of the food, it would be a mortal insult."
"Why would I—oh."
"And don't speak to anybody until I've introduced you. And don't—never mind, here we are. No time for anything else." He squeezed my shoulder. "Don't worry, you'll do fine."<
br />
We were in a high hall flooded with sunlight. Screens were open at intervals in the arched ceiling above. Four people sat at the long table, leaving most of it empty. They watched me enter with noncommittal expressions that reminded me of Pina's inquisitors. Ran steered me to the old woman at the head of the table. She wore an old-fashioned gown of midnight blue, and above the neckline I could see her pale, smocked skin. Her white hair was done up in a braid that encircled the top of her head. She wore it like a crown, holding her neck stiffly as she turned to me. Ran bowed and said softly. "Grandmother, this is the one I was telling you about. Theodora Cormallon."
I was too startled for a moment to move, to take the outstretched hand she offered me. Then I realized that of course he was using Cormallon as my house name; as an employee I was entitled to it, and he wanted to play down my outsider status for his grandmother.
"My dear Theodora," she said, quite easily. "Welcome to our table. I hope you like hermit's eggs?"
"Thank you, noble lady. I don't know, I've never had them."
"Then it will be a treat. Ran, will you show our guest to her seat?" She unwrapped her napkin.
Ran looked toward the three others at the table. "Grandmother, I'd like—"
"I have every intention of introducing Theodora. Sit down.''
He did so, motioned me to my cushion first. I learned later than Grandmother was committing a slight breach of etiquette; as Ran was technically the first in the family, it was for him to introduce me to those he felt I should know. However, as he had said, she was radical in her own way.
"Theodora, please recognize Kylla, my granddaughter; and Ane and Stepan, my great niece and nephew, Ran's cousins."
Ane and Stepan nodded. Kylla smiled and said, "I'm pleased to see you again." It was nice of her to join in the pleasant fiction that I was not a stranger invading their home; she didn't have to be that polite just for me. And Grandmother's use of the word "recognize" was more appropriate to a second meeting than a first, implying that I already knew everyone. For the first time in my entire life, as I sat among these courteous people, I felt that I was out-bred. It made me more nervous than Ran's earlier hints of physical danger.
