Ursula answered my knock. She had a blanket tossed over her body, and I caught a glimpse of her shift under it. I stepped backwards and said stiffly, "I did not mean to wake you and John from your sleep. I will return later."
Ursula shook her head, gazing at me from under sleep-sanded eyelids. "Come in. John will be glad to see you this morning." She held the door open wide. After a moment's hesitation, I stepped in.
The house was empty but for Ursula. She stepped into the sleeping alcove, drew the curtain, and said from behind it, "John has been out since before dawn. We heard a rumor from a neighbor that there had been a murder in the city, so John went to see whether there was any truth to it." Faintly, through the outline of the curtain, I saw her abandon the blanket and reach for clothes. I hastily unshuttered the street window and seated myself there with my back to the curtain.
Ursula emerged soon after, dressed and holding in her hand a pitcher of wine and two cups. "Do you still like wild-berry wine?" she asked. "I've heard that all the Emorians think it tastes like poison."
"I told the governor last night that I disliked it, so that he would not doubt my loyalty as a true Emorian. But while my loyalty is sworn to the Chara, I fear that my body has never agreed to my oath. I hate Emorian winters, and I still love Koretian wine."
Ursula laughed and poured the wine for us before curling herself into the windowseat, opposite to me. Beside us, we could see the early-morning carts rattling over the stone-studded dirt path, on their way to the market.
We watched the city people for a while before Ursula said, "John and I talked once of going to live in Emor. He thought it would be easier for me there – that not so many people would hate me. And I was curious to see what life there was like. But John has his work here, and he wasn't sure it would be any better for me in Emor than it is here."
"He was probably right about that," I said. "Most Emorians hate Koretians just as much as most Koretians hate Emorians. In any case, it would be hard for you to become accustomed to life there."
Ursula tilted her head, a strand of black hair falling over her pale cheek. "Was it hard for you? I know that you love the land now, but you came there as a slave, and that must have made it hard for you to like the Emorians."
I watched with half an eye the familiar tapestry of city life: a small girl accompanying her mother to the market, laden down with a woven blanket that her mother intended to sell there; two small boys challenging each other to a dagger duel, and then looking cautiously around to ensure that adults were standing nearby who would stop them if they fought too hard; an Emorian soldier watching the boys' play with a look of disapproval.
I said, "When the soldier first took me prisoner, I tried to kill him – not only because of what he was doing to me, but because of what he had done to John and my mother. I think I will never hate anyone as much as I hated that soldier. Later I tried to kill the slave-seller to whom the soldier sold me. Then that man sold me to another slave-seller, and I tried to kill one of the seller's assistants. After that— After that, I decided to wait until I was a man and then take my vengeance."
Ursula was listening carefully to me, but she had dipped her head so that her hair covered her eyes. I had carefully kept all bitterness from my voice, but now, staring at her bowed head, I continued more gently, "Then, one day when I was older, I tried to run away from the master I'd been sold to. I was caught and beaten, and I think I would have died from that beating except that the Chara convinced his father to buy me. So my life was saved. About a year ago, I did something foolish that could have cost me my life, and again the Chara came to my rescue. But even if he hadn't done these things, I would remain oath-sworn to Peter because of who he is."
Ursula had gradually raised her head as I spoke. Now her face brightened and her hands burst forth into the air. "I don't think I've ever met anyone like your Chara. At first I thought of him only as a mighty conqueror who had done much harm to Koretia, but he spoke to me as though I were an old acquaintance instead of a common half-Koretian girl. He seemed like any other man I have known when he talked of how hard his life was when he was a boy, and how much your friendship meant to him. It was only later that I remembered he was the ruler of an empire and could execute any man or woman under his care. It was as though I had been talking with a god."
"Emorians don't regard him as a god," I said, "but he is the man who wears the face of the Chara, and that amounts to the same thing in the end. I know that the Koretians think the Emorians are impious because we don't have priests or goat-sacrifices or god-masks. But we do have the laws of Emor, and they are reverenced as much as any god could be. The Chara is the embodiment of the law. His task is to make sure that Emor's law is upheld, and he must do this at any cost, no matter what the pain to him or anyone else. If he went against his duty, it would be a kind of blasphemy to us. And that's hard for Peter, because he isn't a god but just an ordinary man."
Ursula considered this, her face turned to watch the passersby. Then she said with a sudden fierceness, "No one should have to bear that kind of burden. It isn't fair when the gods ask that of men."
So distant was she in her thoughts that I reached out and touched her hand lightly. She turned then with a smile, as though I were a lover calling her name. "But he has you as a friend. At least he isn't lonely."
"I don't know whether he is." I leaned back quickly to my side of the windowseat, keeping my eyes fixed on her. "I suppose I know the Chara as well as anyone does, but even to me he is something of a mystery. He's like the Jackal that way."
"The Jackal." Ursula sighed. "I think the Jackal should just talk to the Chara and bring about peace in that way. They're both wise masters – I'm sure they could find an answer to Koretia's troubles. I told John this once, and he said he doubted that the Chara would be interested in speaking to the Jackal because the Chara believes him to be a rebel rather than a god. But now that I've spoken to the Chara myself, I think John is wrong. I'm sure the Chara would be glad to speak with anyone who wanted to talk with him."
I had a sudden memory of Peter, standing a while before, speaking lightly his words of anger. This image halted my thoughts long enough that, before I could reply to Ursula's words, the door opened and John entered.
He paused at the threshold as he saw me. He was wearing his night-dark tunic again, but as before, he bore no weapon. Slung over his shoulder was his satchel; he turned to hang this on the wall. "You're awake early."
"As are you, it seems," I said. "Ursula told me why you were out."
John glanced my way, and then turned his attention back to the satchel.
"Did you find out whether the rumors were true?" asked Ursula. "Was a man killed last night?"
John walked over to the table nearby and put his fingers lightly on the pitcher, tilting it so that he could see the purple-red liquid inside. "Rumors are still winging their way around the city. It's hard to say what happened."
He did not look up as Ursula came over to his side. But as she placed her cup of wine in front of him, he smiled at her. "I'm very hungry. Do you think you could persuade that crotchety laying hen of yours to give me an egg for my breakfast?"
"I will go whisper pretty words to her," said Ursula. "Some bread is left from yesterday if you'd like that."
As Ursula went into the garden, John walked over to the food box. Ignoring the knife sitting there, he tore off a chunk of bread from the hard loaf and brought it back to the table. He sat down in front of the bread, stared at it, and then picked up Ursula's wine instead and began sipping it.
I started to speak but stopped, going instead to sit opposite him at the table. He did not look up as I seated myself, but he said, "If you've come from the palace, then you already know. Brendon told me when I met him this morning at the market."
"What did Brendon say?" I asked carefully.
John did not seem to notice the phrasing of my response. "No more than what he heard from the supply-keeper. He said that the man was eviden
tly murdered by the Jackal, that he was the governor's spy, that he was a Koretian, and that he had taken the work, not out of greed or disloyalty to Koretia, but because he believed that Emor's rule kept peace in this land." He continued to stare down at the knothole in the rough planks before him as he added, "It isn't my business to ask this of you, but what did the Chara say when he heard of this?"
I was silent a moment, then took the pitcher from next to John and poured myself another cup. "He was very bitter. He said that the Jackal ought to have respected another man's loyalty."
John raised his eyes slowly to meet mine. "Well, then," he said, "the Chara and I are of one mind for once. This murder sickens me, not only for what happened here, but because such things have been happening more and more during the last few months. Have you heard how the riot started in Valouse?"
"No," I said. "The governor doesn't know how it happened."
"Brendon knows; he was there. No Emorians were involved at the start. It was a fight between Koretians, arguing over whether one of the Jackal's recent murders was justified. When I told you things had grown bad in this land, this is what I meant: if these murders don't end, we won't need the Emorians to kill us all, for we will be able to do it ourselves."
"If people are questioning the god's way," I murmured, "then matters are truly bad for Koretia."
John placed his cup on the table with great care. "I am one of those who is questioning the god."
I waited, watching my black-eyed blood brother who could look into the air and see images I had never seen and hear voices that few men had ever heard. Behind us, in the garden, I could hear the faint voice of Ursula as she cooed at the hens. John rose smoothly and unhurriedly, collecting the cup in his palm, and went to stand by the street window, his back facing me.
He said quietly, "The Jackal God issues his commands to the Koretians and says this man should die or that man. It was bad enough when Emorians were dying, some of them good men, but now the god has decreed that friend shall betray friend and brother kill brother. If the god can speak to us to command us, why can't he explain to us what the reasons are for his commands? For I do not understand why the hunting god has chosen to hunt his own people."
I stood up from the table and went over to John. Through the back window I could see Ursula on her knees, leaning over to smile and cluck at a hen. I began to walk in front of John, but something held me back. Standing behind his shoulder, I said, "John, you've always been the one who has visions of the gods, and I can't help you to understand why they act as they do. But Ursula and I were speaking just now of the laws of the Chara and of how they are to the people of Emor what the gods are to the Koretians. So I'm reminded of the one time in which I disobeyed the command of the Chara, and how I almost killed an unarmed man as a result. If the Chara had explained to me the reason for his command, I wouldn't have believed him, for I did not yet know how dark my temper was. The Chara knew better than I did what I should do, and if I had simply trusted him, all would have been well. So perhaps you should accept that the gods know what they are doing when they issue their commands, and trust them."
John stood for a while looking at the street or the gods or nothing – I could not see his eyes. At last he said, "Will you excuse me for a minute?" He went out the back door without looking my way.
After a while I looked through the back window and saw him standing with his back to me, talking to Ursula in the chicken coop. I could not hear what he was saying, but he was evidently telling her of the murder, for her head hung low. Then I saw her nod, and John gathered her into his arms. I turned away.
When John returned to the house, he was alone. He said, "I've decided to go up to the priests' house until this evening. After today, I don't know when I will be able to go there again, for the danger is too great in this city for me to leave Ursula alone any more. I don't want to leave her alone even for this one day, so would you be willing to stay with her until I return tonight? It is much to ask, but you are my blood brother, and I know that you will keep her under your care."
"The Chara has no need of me today, so I will stay," I said. "It is very little to ask from a blood brother. Make your peace with the gods."
o—o—o
Late afternoon light soared lazily through the street window, bounced off the windowseat, and landed assertively on the wooden floor of the house, where it took its rest. I was sitting on one of the benches, having vacated the windowseat in favor of Ursula, who was stretched out there as she mended a gown. She had a tendency, though, to jump up every few minutes and chase a spindle of thread that was trying to make its escape.
She reached over now to grab the spindle, which was teetering hopefully on the edge of the windowseat. As she did so, she asked, "What else did the Chara do for you?"
She had nearly drained me dry of anecdotes about the Chara by now. I ventured further into the dark passage of my memories before saying, "One incident I learned about years after it happened, by way of Lord Carle's free-servant. It occurred a few months before the Chara's enthronement, when he was still Lord Peter. It seems that Peter tried to convince Lord Dean and Lord Carle, who were in charge of arranging the enthronement, that I be allowed to take part in the ceremony as a representative of the palace slaves. Both lords said no, of course, and since they had to give a reason why, they argued that only free-men could attend the enthronement. I suppose they believed that it was too sacred a ritual to be attended by mere slaves, though that didn't keep the High Lord from ordering that the slaves work till dawn three nights in a row to prepare the Court of Judgment and the rest of the palace for the ceremony."
Ursula jerked the gown she was mending to one side, which caused the spindle to jump hastily from the windowseat. Having released her frustration in this manner, Ursula let the spindle lie where it was. "Did the Chara know about this?"
"Not until afterwards; then he was furious. But that's not the end of the tale. Peter was still being tutored by Lord Carle during the previous winter, and Lord Carle asked him, as a final exercise, to prepare a sample proclamation making a major change in the interpretation of the law. The way that such proclamations are written is that the Chara lists firstly his interpretation of the law-structure, which is the base of Emorian law, then the relevant court cases, then his reasons for desiring a change, and only in the end does he announce what change he is making to the law. So Peter was able to read his proclamation all the way to the end, with Lord Carle nodding his agreement the whole way through, before Lord Carle learned that Peter interpreted Emorian law to say that slaves are a category of free-men."
This time the gown slipped to the floor as Ursula bent over and buried her face in her knees to smother her laughter. My own expression remained serious. I waited until her mirth had subsided before I added, "It wasn't so amusing an incident, actually. Lord Carle punished Peter by making him spend a week in his quarters, memorizing a series of unimportant laws."
"But Andrew, just think of what Lord Carle's face must have looked like when he realized that he had been fooled!"
My gaze drifted away from Ursula. I stared at the thread wound tight around the spindle as I said in a detached tone, "I would rather not think about it. If you had ever seen Lord Carle when he was angry, you would understand what I mean."
For a minute, the only sound was a rustle of cloth as Ursula bent down to retrieve the gown. Then she said in a hushed voice, "But the Chara says that the only way to deal with Lord Carle is to keep your sense of humor. He says that, if you can do that, then you find that Lord Carle really is not—"
The rest of her sentence was cut off by a series of thumps at the door. Before I could stop her, Ursula poked her head out the window. She said calmly, "It's a soldier. Perhaps it's a message for you from the palace."
"Do you want me to answer the door, then?"
"Please do," she said. "My Emorian is good enough for me to understand what other people are saying, but my grammar is atrocious. John has always wanted to
teach me how to speak properly, but he has never had the time."
I got up and walked toward the door, reflecting, as I did, that we had spent all day talking about me, and I still knew almost nothing about John's wife. Surely, I thought, I ought at least to ask her about her blood kin. She could not take offence at such a question if it came from an Emorian.
I opened the door and was forced to step back hastily as I was nearly hit in the face by the soldier standing there. His flustered look told me that he had merely been preparing to knock louder. He was perhaps forty years of age and wore the blue-border trim of a subcaptain, but he looked as nervous as a suitor meeting his beloved's father as he said, "John the trader?"
"No," I replied with my usual coolness. "My blood brother is out for the day. Would you like to speak to his wife?"
He looked uncertainly from me to Ursula. She, having chosen not to speak, was communicating with a broad and friendly smile. "I'm not sure," the subcaptain said. "The trader said that John was the man I should speak to."
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