“As they should be,” I replied. “And I’m going to be a student, as soon as registration opens.” I had no money, but perhaps I’d get a scholarship, or a loan. I met the woman’s eyes, confident in my own powers.
She turned and shouted to someone in another room, “Forget it, Madge. The job’s filled.” And to me, she said, “You start tomorrow at five-thirty, preparing breakfast in the main cafeteria. I come on at six, and you’d better be there, and working. I run the place, and I don’t stand for any nonsense. Come on, I’ll show you around.”
I had a new boss, tougher than any I’d ever worked for; but I had a new toughness myself. By the time she checks my references, I’ll have proven myself invaluable.
A MOTHER’S CURSE
Kimban, Guardian of the Speaker of the Village of Epo, leaned his buttocks against the table on which his silver sword rested. “Chesra, you can’t wait another month. In your eighth month, an Active Speaking could kill you. You have to make your Abdication tonight, and if you get through that Active Speaking without fainting, I’ll be amazed.”
A Speaker could Speak effortlessly of that which already was, but to Speak and thus cause it to be so took enormous toll. Taking up or setting down the Office of Speaker meant just such an Active Speaking.
The pregnant woman’s pacing shook the wooden floor. “You just want me out of the way so you can ruin Briller by declaring all the soap he’s made this summer tainted.”
Ignoring the slight to his oath as a Guardian, one able to See the forces of magic, Kimban replied, “Pregnancy is disrupting your stability. It isn’t for you to judge now—”
Whirling on him in a fury, she spat, “You’re just jealous that I carry Briller’s child, not yours! That’s what’s behind everything you do! Well, I’m still Speaker of Epo, and I say I—” She broke off, mouth open to form words, yet no voice or breath behind them. Her astonishment would have been comical had it not been so pained.
Kimban should have gone to her aid as was his duty as her Guardian, but he froze at her accusation. When she’d taken up her Office, she’d Spoken onto her own lips the Seal of Truth that had just silenced her. Therefore, her words had been true. But—Me? Jealous? Of that worm? And then, Worm? The truth seared him to the core.
Briller was nearly fifteen years older than Kimban, closer to Chesra’s age. Though a Speaker never married, to Briller she owed a son, the son she now bore.
With a strangled sound, Kimban went to enfold her in his arms. The feel of her child moving against his belly almost distracted him, but he found his voice and sang the note she needed to hear. “Chesra, relax. Listen, and relax; you’ll be able to breathe again. Come on, for your baby, Chesra.”
She drew a tremulous breath as the door burst open, and Briller’s heavy step shook the floor. The man stopped, understanding replacing anxiety. With bitter disappointment, he mumbled, “We heard raised voices. I thought the baby—”
“I’m all right,” Chesra interrupted. She drew away from Kimban and stood proudly as she addressed Briller with a cold formality, “Please inform the musicians that I will conclude the Speaking tonight with my Abdication. And have the colors changed to something appropriate.”
Briller executed a formal bow. “As you wish, Speaker.”
Chesra added, “Briller—you are never to enter without invitation. Understand? My very life could have been at stake. If Kimban had not been so adept at his job—well, I don’t want to contemplate what might have happened.”
“His job,” repeated Briller skeptically.
“His job,” she asserted. She met Briller’s gaze, neither haughty nor defiant, but simply confident.
The symphony of expressions that flowed across Briller’s face was indescribable. “I’ll mention only his competency.” Glancing at Kimban, Briller bowed to them both, and left.
Kimban felt tension he’d scarcely been aware of flow out of him. At last, his calm reasoning had won Chesra over. He hadn’t had to lift her office from her by force. His oath was to Epo as much as to the Speaker, but he was almost sure he didn’t have the courage to do that to her.
As the door closed, Chesra sighed hugely.
Kimban looked around for a chair, but of course there was none. The single room of the House of Preparation was furnished only with the table on which their ceremonial garments were placed, a few floor mats for meditation, and the blanket padded shelf that served for supine exercises.
“Here, you’d better sit down,” Kimban said, leading her toward the shelf. He was alarmed by how willingly she accepted that. He knelt to chafe her bare feet and calves. The chill he felt in her flesh pained his heart. But what almost undid him was the feel of her hand on his head.
“Kimban, thank you. This pregnancy has been harder than any of the others. I don’t know what’s come over me.”
“After the baby is born, the village will call you to Speak again.”
“I hope so.” She stared into space. “If only my sister hadn’t died.”
If only her sister hadn’t married Briller, of all the muck-eating excuses for a man!
Tears filled Chesra’s dark blue eyes. The fire burning high in the hearth was reflected in her pupils. “If only my first born hadn’t been taken by the—” She forced out the last word. “—Flints.” She stifled a sob in both hands.
The Flints called themselves the Flintedged Warriors, a desert nomad tribe that periodically raided villages like Epo for children to sacrifice to their abominable gods. They had taken Chesra’s first born by Briller just after she’d weaned him but before she turned him over to his father. Chesra had felt obligated to produce another son by Briller to continue the line of her sister’s blood through her sister’s chosen man. But then Chesra had two daughters, and only now, a son.
Gently, Kimban said, “You love your children, I know you do. When this boy is born, you will choose a wife for Briller, and your obligation to your sister’s line will be finished. Then you can devote yourself to your daughters. One of them is bound to follow you as Speaker of Epo.”
He had meant it as encouragement, but Chesra’s sobs increased. There wasn’t much time left before the Speaking. Kimban went to the table and brought Chesra’s ceremonial sandals and his own silver sword. Buckling the sandals on her feet, he stood over her with the sword squared before his face and intoned the opening words of his protection.
She flicked her hand at him, as if to deny readiness, but he raised the chant higher and began the ritual passes over and around her, warding her person from untoward influences, spinning a silver blur of protection about her.
The sword was fully charged and moved as if cutting stiff dough, not air. Nobody in Epo but Kimban was trained and conditioned to handle these energies, and he had to make sure the sword never touched Chesra, for it would surely kill her. Yet the invisible light it wove about her protected her now and for hours hence against disruptive forces. Kimban was proud of his skill, learned in the Guildhouses of the far seacoast, the same Guild that trained the Speakers.
“Stand forth, Speaker of Epo,” he finished, “and serve your people.”
Eyes squeezed shut, she scrubbed tears from her cheeks, composed herself and rose.
He whispered, “Fasting is bad for you now. We’ll finish this job, then break fast, and everything will seem better.”
As the sound of eight marching feet approached she replied, “I truly hope so.”
The escort was led by Briller, who performed with drilled precision. They walked the length of the village’s main street under the full moon at its height. The soft light clothed the mud brick, tile roofed buildings in beauty. The street had been cleansed of horse droppings and raked smooth for their progress. Their colored robes seemed far richer than they were, and as they approached the only other wooden building in Epo, the Speaking Hall, they heard the assembled villagers singing the opening chants.
When the sound engulfed them, Kimban noticed Chesra begin to focus on her work. Each month she ha
d performed routinely even during this pregnancy. Yet now, Kimban felt her summoning courage, high intent, and the deeper inward powers one brought to a difficult initiation. Something’s wrong, and she knows it. That’s what has upset her so.
Resting his left hand on his sword hilt, he prepared to face a test. He banished flittering thoughts, let his knees flex, loosened his joints and looked for the intangible forces in the air. By the time they reached the double doors of the Hall, he could almost See the subtle stirring of a threat. How could I have missed this?
But it disappeared when they entered the Hall which he had warded earlier. Nothing can touch us here.
As they passed through the several hundred assembled villagers, the musicians fell silent and the peace within the building was almost palpable. It would be a good Speaking.
The Hall was just an open space around a dais which was raised above eye level of the standing crowd. The dais was surrounded by a circular hearth made of river stones and laid with fire wood.
Above, a vent was arranged so the smoke from the fire converged above the head of the person standing on the dais. The air guides that achieved this appeared to be hanging decorations, but each was in fact magically charged. Attendants had raised banners of green and white instead of the usual purple and gold, on the rigging around the walls, so everyone knew Chesra would abdicate her office tonight.
Kimban planted himself beside the ramp leading up to the dais, and the escort bowed Chesra up onto the ramp. When she reached the dais, Kimban cranked the ramp aside, making sure the ropes and pulleys were clear of the fire’s heat. Then he drew his sword which moved even harder here among the massed forces. Pointing it at the nearby tinder, he lit the fire.
The tingle erupted from within his own body, and leaped down the sword to explode as flame which spread around the dais. Then Chesra called out her invitation to the village to seek what they would know.
Forearms bulging, Kimban raised the silver sword, dancing now with its own light as well as the reflected firelight. Sweat stood out all over him as he labored to hold the sword high and open himself to the harmonic forces focused within the Hall. Then the sword emitted a fountain of silver light that caromed off the smoke baffles, then ricocheted down to illumine a villager.
That person had been chosen to ask their question, but chosen by what or whom, Kimban didn’t know. It certainly wasn’t him, and Chesra denied having anything to do with it.
Tonight, the first person chosen to ask for a Speaking was the most influential member of Epo’s ruling council. “Is this the time to choose a new Council for Epo?”
The crackle of the fire filled the hall, then Chesra’s voice came through, clear, steady and mellow. “No.”
The sword’s light danced and centered on another, a woman with two children beside her. “Is my husband alive?”
The pause was shorter. “Yes.”
Kimban felt sorry for the woman, for no doubt she had planned to ask next month if her husband would return. The question she had chosen bespoke her love for the man who had been lost on a caravan carrying Briller’s soap to market. When the caravan had been hit by brigands, only a few of the men had escaped being kidnapped for slaves. The incident had nearly impoverished Briller.
The questioning went on, some showing more wisdom in their choice of question, and some less. Occasionally, a seeker broke down at hearing their answer and had to be taken away. A rhythm developed, the kind of nearly musical beat that denoted a fine Speaking. Despite her earlier difficulty, Chesra was handling her job in superlative style.
And then, without warning, she screamed.
Kimban whirled. Chesra stood, eyes wide, fist to her mouth. Before he could extinguish the fire and lower the ramp, Chesra’s voice cut the veils of power Kimban could See around her. “There will be flames of destruction, flames of war! Epo will burn at the hands of riders from the desert dressed in black, the Flintedged Warriors!”
She’s flashed-back to the old raid. The Speaker’s sanity was Kimban’s responsibility. I should have seen the signs. I should have lifted her office last month. Sanity could become a delicately balanced thing, when one took the vows of a Speaker, but Chesra had always been so stable.
Sweat beaded Chesra’s pale skin, and words ripped from her against her will. “Epo, hear your Speaker! The Flints come again. Even now they choose Epo from all the villages around the desert. In council they vow to supply their gods’ sacrifices from your children. Under this sacred full moon do they doom your children.” She drew breath, and Kimban Saw the forces swirl about her as she lowered her voice for an Active Speaking, shaping the truth as she spoke it. “But this time they can be stopped! This can be their last raid, ever. Your Speaker has Spoken.” Chesra collapsed in a heap of robes, hair floating out over the fire.
With all his might, Kimban whipped his sword around and waved it over the flames before him. He felt the sword hilt heating in his grip, as it had the day he’d made it, then darkness spread from the point, extinguishing the fire. The moment a path was clear, he slammed the ramp down and scrambled across it, sheathing his sword.
He felt for her pulse, and peeled back one eyelid. Alive. Crooning the healing notes, he gathered her hair to the nape of her neck, then rolled her into his arms. He barely felt the strain as he lifted her like a baby. He charged down the ramp. “Get the midwife! Get the healer!”
Briller met him at the foot of the ramp, but Kimban strode past, heading for the door. Chesra’s two daughters, Nina and Aith stopped him. Nina, the elder, yanked on her mother’s robe. “Mother! Are you all right?”
Nina was barely seven years old. Her nurse pushed through the crowd and snatched the girl aside. “Don’t—they’ll take care of her as best anyone can.”
Aith, however, hardly four years old, plastered herself to Kimban’s leg and wouldn’t let go as she sobbed, “Mommy!” She was wearing the long gray and blue shawl Kimban had knit for her. The nurse grabbed at the shawl, scolding, “Aith!” But she had her hands full with Nina, who was struggling to get back to her mother.
Suddenly, Chesra’s head tossed. One hand flopped out of Kimban’s grasp in a vague gesture toward the children, and the Speaker mumbled, “It’s all right, Nina. Don’t carry on so, Aith. It’s going to be all right now. I have said....” She sighed back into oblivion, but Kimban almost heard the last word, “...so.”
Someone finally peeled Aith off Kimban’s leg and he escaped. The air was cool, brisk and invigorating but Chesra didn’t stir again until he had her ensconced in her own bed. As required of him as her Guardian, he removed the ceremonial trappings and performed his required duties over her, save that he could not bring himself to lift her office while she slept. Finally, he allowed the midwife and the healer in.
By then, Chesra was sleeping normally. Still, the two of them fussed over her until dawn, burning noxious powders in a brazier, and bathing her limbs in vile smelling things.
Dismissed from the sickroom, Kimban warded the house, as if it needed any further work after all he’d done on it, and retired to his own house next door. But he couldn’t sleep.
The following weeks were filled with preparations for defense. The Speaker had Said they could win, but that didn’t mean they would. Those who complained that she hadn’t predicted certain victory were told to shut up or move to another village. What she had Said had nearly cost her life.
So they dug traps on the approaches to the village, and mended the village wall. It was a fort’s wall, built for a King’s garrison centuries before but still sound. The ruins of the garrison’s stable and barracks were under the central square of Epo, but the village had maintained its wall. Now, supplies were laid in for a siege, and people were sent to the neighboring villages to buy arrows, burning oil, and any weapons they could. Envoys were sent out to find a village that would take their children in, so that come what may, at least the Flints wouldn’t get them.
Word spread of the Epo Speaker’s pronouncement that the Fl
ints could be stopped, and a scattering of adventurous men came, offering to fight, but no villages sent real forces. Epo’s Speaker was pregnant, thus unreliable. They decided to fortify their own villages, for the doom she had Spoken on her own village might actually pertain to another.
The Epo Council could not find anyone to shelter Epo’s children. Many said that if the Flints had selected the children of Epo for their gods, then those children would be sought and taken wherever they hid. Nobody wanted to bring that scourge down on their own village, and no other village’s Speaker would Say anything on the matter.
So Epo dug a cellar under a sturdy building and made a Safe House for the children. Three adults, too old to fight, were chosen to care for the children. Everyone else was armed and drilled for battle.
After he was sure Chesra was recovered, Kimban urged her to Speak the Abdication. But she argued that since the full moon was past, it was more dangerous to do it now than to wait for the next full moon. Besides, since there was no one to replace her, Epo would be without a Speaker when she abdicated. “Everyone else is preparing to take risks to save us all, why shouldn’t I? It will all be over before the next full moon, and there will be peace.”
Nothing he could say would sway her, and indeed, the agitation that had gripped her before the last Speaking was gone. She seemed her old self, pacing about the village and quietly encouraging everyone in their efforts. Her very serenity carried the power of the Speaking Hall.
Serenity? Or resignation? Kimban wrestled with that, but still could not take up his sword and sever her from her office against her will.
One day, a delegation arrived from the distant village of Cantry. The Speaking hall was quickly arranged with tables and chairs. Chesra, Kimban and the Epo council met with the delegates all through one hot afternoon and into the night. They were curious about the rumors, but clearly had no intention of helping with either men or weapons.
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