“The third time, they swarmed the city. Fires were set, which held them back for a little, but eventually everyone fled. I managed to rescue two people. We made it to the salt mines before my injuries caught up with me, and then when they began to close in on us in the mines I bought time for them to escape. I couldn’t keep up; I thought I was dead. If it weren’t for Kamari I would be dead. But I woke up here, and for the second time I have received a warmer welcome than I thought possible. I thank you for that, and I wish I had something better to offer than my warning.”
“You speak of fever dreams. Has your head been addled?” This was the low voice of one of the middle-aged men of the village.
“He speaks the truth.” At this moment Zena sounded weary. “Last night as the embers of the fire died I consulted the heavens. The bonds of life are failing, and the stars proclaim the Ravagers’ advent. I have seen inevitable destruction waiting for us on the horizon, and there is no safe path to fresh pastures.”
“Surely there must be some clue to our salvation?”
“There is no saving the village, Karna. The stars are clear on that much. I cannot tell if moving pastures now will hasten the end or delay it, but our destruction is coming.”
“Would you just sit back and accept it, then?” Shahin could hardly believe what he was hearing. “For what purpose did you treat me, then? For what purpose any of this?”
“The knowledge of impending death is not the same as the search for death.”
“Hekevidya, what exactly have the stars shown you?”
“What I said, Karna. It doesn’t matter what I’m looking for in the stars, I always see the same answer now. The multitude of scorpions is scourging the land, and wherever we rest we face the same fate. I hoped to find us a good path, but there is no safer path or place.”
“I beg your pardon… Hekevidya, if I have put you in an awkward situation.” Shahin hesitated over the title.
“I take responsibility for myself, boy.” Zena bit the words off. If there was one sort of person Shahin knew to stay away from, it was an angry grandmother, and he was still staying under her roof.
He heard liquid pouring. Looking down, a pair of feminine hands was refilling his cup with ut’sharmka. He cast a smile in the direction the arms came from only to see Lila smiling back, looking for all the world like she was laughing at a secret only they knew. What’s going on with the women here? He raised the cup and mouthed the word ‘thanks’ at her, and managed to get it all the way to his mouth before the smell hit him. Oof. He tried again, and managed to swallow some of it. I suppose you can acquire a taste for anything, but whoever came up with this was sadistic.
Zena was arguing with Karna, and the number of goatskins seemed to be multiplying around the fire; he had a feeling it was going to be a long night. Lighting a fire in his belly suddenly sounded like an excellent way to pass the time, and Lila was always there to refill his cup before he knew it was empty. When did she come over…? Oh, no matter. You know, maybe this stuff isn’t so bad.
* * *
Where am I? Shahin opened his eyes the next morning under a roof he did not recognize, in a room that lacked the smell of medicine. The light fell into his eyes and set off the familiar pangs of a hangover. Clearly I drank too much, but wasn’t someone pushing me to drink more? A pair of pretty doe-eyes appeared in his memory. Lila. But, why? He stirred a little, or tried to, and discovered that the blanket was pinned down at both his shoulders.
“Eh?” Shahin raised his head and looked, and saw to either side the face of a sleeping sister. “Gah!” He slid over the pillow on the pallet as quickly as he could and was relieved to see that he was clothed. I’m sure they’re very nice girls, but…
Lila was yawning, waking up. “Oh, good, you’re up.”
“Just now, yes. What am I doing here?” He still sat on the floor, arms and legs spread to skitter away.
“You were about to fall asleep in your cups, and Hekevidya was still busy with the Elder, so I brought you here. You are the politest drunk I have ever met.” Okay, good. Nothing terrible happened. She walked toward him on her knees and he was abruptly aware that she only wore a shift. He studied the ceiling and she gave a throaty laugh.
“Almost a shame. I’d have liked to see you try.”
“Try what?” What is she thinking?
That was definitely a smirk. “Anything.”
“Look, um, thanks, but really I should be going. I’ll, um, talk to you later?” Shahin backpedaled again, pushing himself to his feet as gracefully as he could manage. He knew very well that he was going to be working with the weavers, and therefore with her, all day again today. She frowned at him as he backed out the door, but he didn’t care. I’m not sure I’ll survive another day of them. Enough is enough! Zena was going to hear about this.
When he found the woman she met his protestations with a flat stare and they lost all force. What sort of man, the stare asked, complains about the attentions of a pretty girl? One who wasn’t interested, of course, but that was hardly something he could say when she hadn’t spoken. He resigned himself to another day being cooed over by the most forward women he had ever met.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Bahadur learned after he returned to Javed’s that Gita had tolerated his absence poorly. Sanaz had found her an inattentive and restless student that day; failure to improve immediately would mark the end of the girl’s lessons. He sat so he was at eye level with her.
“Gita, I’m not leaving you behind, understand? I promised. But unless you can read, I can’t bring you with me when I go talk with the people who can help us. The longer we stay here the more likely I’ll have to take a job. You’re safe here, so won’t you trust me that far?”
“We thought we were safe in Q’uungerab, too, but that didn’t save anyone.”
“This isn’t Q’uungerab, Gita. There’s no sign of anything like that here. We’re as safe as anyone can be now. That means we have a little time to try to learn what to do, but this kind of knowledge is only found in books.”
“…All right. I’ll try a little harder.”
“Thank you.” He smiled at her and hoped it was reassuring. Boys are so much easier to deal with. “All of that aside, the people I spoke to want to talk to you, too. Sanaz, is any day better than another for me to steal her away?”
“Oh, by all means do whatever you want. She’s your ward, not mine. But if you want my opinion you’ll leave her here until she makes good on that promise.”
“You’re quite right.” He paused a moment, his face twisting. “In fact, that’s exactly what I’d expect Anahita to say. Are your children around the city?”
“Ana-? Oh, your wife?”
Bahadur nodded.
“One of my sons is still in the city; the other went racing off after adventure. Haven’t seen hide nor hair of him in five years.”
“I’m… sorry to hear that.” His voice didn’t catch, which pleased him greatly. “My boys would have been seven and ten this winter.” Why did I say that? Sympathy is the last thing I need right now.
Sanaz shifted her weight, folding an arm across her chest.
Damn it. “When is Javed expected back?”
“Shouldn’t be long now, I’m sure. He generally tries to keep it short when we have new boarders.”
“I see. Good.” Bahadur nodded. He had a lot to talk about with Javed later that night.
“You’ll not be drawing him into talk about his work tonight. That is my firmest rule: it’s the ones who never escape their studies end up locked away, after all.”
“It would be a shame if my landlord was shut up. I will be discreet.”
“You’ll keep your mouth shut on the matter while you’re under my roof, is what you’ll do.”
“Yes, ma’am.” When a woman glared at you from no more than six inches away, it was the only response that did not end in injury. They always insisted it was self-inflicted. Anahita had been the same way, as had his mother
and his aunts.
Sanaz stepped back, satisfied. “As long as that’s understood, then. Now go get straightened up. Dinner will be on as soon as Javed returns.”
* * *
Conversation over dinner that evening was restrained at first, but Bahadur and Gita still knew next to nothing about Vidyavana. The conversation rather naturally flowed into things to do and see around the city that were accessible to outsiders.
There was a theater troupe loosely associated with the Loremasters' Guild – and Javed did mean loosely. The original leader of the troupe had been the daughter of a guild member, but she was long since dead and now the association was as much a matter of tradition as convenience. They were very active, and usually had at least one production running.
If one knew which taverns to frequent there was music to be found, or which keafkhan. They were very apologetic with Gita, certain that the local entertainments could not hope to live up to the standards of a Chèin’ii caravan.
Sanaz was familiar with the best markets in town, although she warned that prices in Vidyavana would seem high. Even so, she promised to take Gita with her sometimes. She thought it seemed like just the thing to draw the girl out, and for all Bahadur knew it might work.
Eventually the conversation wound down. They sat sipping kafe to wash down the succulent bird Sanaz had roasted. Gita began to yawn despite the kafe. Sanaz offered to take her up to bed again, and Gita simply nodded around another yawn.
“Don’t be up too long, love. I know you want to make an early start again in the morning.”
“Of course, my sweet, but I think it looks like an excellent evening for a stroll. Don’t you agree, Bahadur?” The man’s look was pointed.
“Yes, wonderful.” Should I carry my kopis?
“We won’t be long, but there’s no need to wait on me if you’re tired.”
“Enjoy your walk. Oh, and try to keep things light?”
“Of course.” Javed smiled.
* * *
They walked in silence for a while. Javed led him through small side streets and quiet alleys, hushing him every time he opened his mouth, until they broke through a narrow pathway into an orchard of sorts. It looked sere and spare to Bahadur, but in comparison to Udhampna the entire city was barren. Given Vidyavana’s location this was luxurious.
“Come, sit with me a moment and gaze on the moon. No one else is here to listen.” Javed settled himself on the edge of a stone retaining wall surrounding a small raised pool. Whoever maintained this courtyard must be extraordinarily wealthy. Bahadur leaned against the wall next to his host. From here it looked like the moon rested on the pillowy tops of the khejri border. The paving stones released just enough heat that the air was comfortably cool. A light breeze stirred in the uppermost branches of the khejri and date palms.
“I assume you spoke with someone today.” Javed pitched his voice low and his tone neutral, as though even here they might be overheard.
“I did.”
“And?”
“And once she convinced me she wasn’t about to murder me, and your note convinced her I was on the level, we decided we could work together.”
“Good.”
“We’ll see. Funny how circumstances change.”
“It is. You should know that I am not part of their cabal. At least, not yet.”
“Then how…?”
“I’m a sympathizer. I found merit in their thesis, but thought their evidence was lacking. That may change, but there are… conditions which must be fulfilled first.”
“I suppose our wild-sounding story tipped the scale?”
“Indeed.”
“What does Sanaz know about any of this?”
“As little as possible. Nothing, I hope. You may have noticed she doesn’t want anything related to my work in the house?”
Bahadur nodded, but did not glance over to see if Javed cared.
“She blames my histories for Omid leaving. Never has woman been so terribly convenient and inconvenient at the same time.” Javed chuckled, and Bahadur joined him.
Bahadur paused a breath before continuing. “Anything interesting show up today, or is it too soon for that?”
“Oh, far too soon. I won’t be ready to start pulling sources for at least a week. Need to have the framework built first.”
“I see. Like making a building.”
“Yes, more or less. Were you an architect, then?”
“No, just an observer.” This was a pleasant diversion. “I was actually in the guard, remember? A few more years, and I might have made Hazapadis, but never further than that.”
“Competent and born low?”
“Middling. I have a basic education.”
“Well there’s none of that here. A man’s wealth will take him exactly as far as his competence can carry him.”
“How does that work?” Bahadur wanted to laugh, and he wasn’t certain if it was because that sounded excellent or ridiculous.
“The Guilds run everything. Since it’s hard to hide who the best scholars are it works quite well. Shall I buy you a drink, or shall we be good little boys and head on back?”
“The sooner I find my way around the city, the better. Lead on, sir!”
* * *
The local drink of choice was called suramey, and Bahadur did not especially care what they fermented to make it. It was heavy with some fruit he did not recognize, but at the finish was reminiscent of a fine kafe. He felt the dull glow begin to warm his belly before the end of his first glass.
“Suramey soothes, and some think it promotes contemplation,” Javed explained as they shared a bottle. “It’s an introspective drink, the philosopher of alcohol. Must be why we like it so much here, don’t you think?”
Bahadur had never seen a more civil establishment. It seemed like every table was surrounded by gentlemen enmeshed in quiet conversation. At the front of the room, a waifish young lady plucked her sitar, and the tune was contemplation itself. Come to think of it, that tune was familiar.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” Javed interrupted his thoughts.
“Hm?”
“You were muttering something. It seemed to match the tune.”
“Oh, was I singing? I’m sorry you had to hear that. Kapi on the Mountain was always one of my favorite ballads back home.”
“I’m sorry, what did you call it?”
“Kapi on the Mountain?”
“As in, the monkey god?”
“Who else? He’s Kapi the Trickster. Or Kapi the Wise, depending who you talk to. I’m surprised you know of him.”
“Based on the stories as they have been recorded here, he was both. You might volunteer some of the lore of Q’uungerab when you’re speaking with Zareen. I’m sure she’d love to hear it.”
Bahadur nearly choked for trying not to laugh. “Assuming she didn’t rip my ears off for changing the subject. She’s got the focus of a hawk.”
“She’s a scholar. She’s a Loremaster, for gods’ sakes! She’s not going to pass up the chance to corroborate a story.”
“If you say so.” Bahadur wasn’t sure he was still capable of sounding skeptical, but he tried. This was his third cup, and his senses were beginning to dull. “How much is left in that bottle?”
“Mmm?” Javed peered down the glass neck. He wasn’t going to see anything; it was opaque. The scholar’s wits must be a little fuzzy, too. Giving up on that, he gave it a quick swirl. “Enough for a couple more drinks, I think. Be a shame to let this go to waste.”
“Truer words have never been spoken, sir. Acchiséhat!” Bahadur lifted his thick-stemmed glass with its wide mouth to meet Javed’s before tossing back another swallow. The suramey was liquid silk flowing down his throat, and the aftertaste of kafe turned the corners of his mouth again. “Why have I never heard of this before?”
“We can’t even satisfy local demand. What makes you think we’d export any?”
“Nothing wrong with keeping your treasures close to han
d.”
“See? I knew you were smart!”
Bahadur laughed. “Since I’m so smart, then, I tell you I’ll be a wreck in the morning if we don’t finish soon.”
Not too many minutes later, feeling only minor pangs of regret through the pleasant fog of the suramey, Bahadur and Javed stepped out of the Khali Gul into the night and saw that the moon now sat high in the sky, its faint blue light always promising more than it revealed.
* * *
Bahadur was meeting Zareen at Dara’s midmorning that day, and the effects of the suramey from the night before had settled on him like stones. He’d had worse hangovers, but not often: he didn’t usually drink that much.
Dara’s keafkhan was, with a little perspective, a shop of only middling prosperity. The interior was plastered and painted a dull tan, the couches were comfortable but worn, and while the low tables were carved and polished there was little of elegance and much of age about them. Zareen did not appear to be here yet; perhaps he had time to revive with a little kafe before she arrived. He chose a table where he could see the door and flagged down one of the keafkir. He felt more alert simply smelling it – which was good, because his kafe arrived at roughly the same time as Zareen.
“Ah. Good morning. I trust you had a pleasant walk?”
She shrugged and took a seat at his table.
“Please, do have a seat.” He rolled his eyes and took a sip of kafe to cover it. “I was glad you chose this place. I’ve met with Dara before.”
“Have you now.” Her eyes were already beginning to glaze over.
“Indeed. He gives good advice.”
“He owns a keafkhan. Advice is half of what they do.”
“Then he runs his business excellently on all fronts.”
When the keafkir came by again Zareen sent coin for a cup of her own. As they drank they spoke of nothing of consequence save Bahadur’s background as a guardsman and some of the old stories of Q’uungerab. A fondness for music did not translate into knowledge of ancient poetry, but Javed had been right about her interest. She became less terse when he mentioned them, and he had a sinking feeling he would be asked to recite – if not sing – Kapi on the Mountain for her in the very near future. By the time they left Bahadur’s head felt much cleaner but no less confused.
Advent of Ruin (The Qaehl Cycle Book 1) Page 20
