"Despite it spending all the money you'll be making," I said.
"Money isn't power," Abadil said with a sudden grin. "It just helps."
I laughed. "All right. Next week, then. But at least have a proper cot brought in if you're going to fall asleep in the work-room."
"I promise," Abadil said, resting his hand over his heart.
Four days later, Abadil was walking beside me down the streets of het Narel, leading a rikka-drawn cart loaded with the first stack of paper. When we arrived at Transactions I was not surprised to find the minister awaiting us, the cool morning sunlight gilding his face and shoulders.
"I heard the new paper was arriving today," he said. "May I?"
"Please," I said. "Ke Abadil?"
Abadil led the minister to the back of the cart. The eperu of House Asara had built special crates to the paper’s measure, using strips of precious wood joined with exquisite craftsmanship and branded on the top with Asara’s House sigil. Abadil lifted the lid on one of them so Thesenet could reach inside and touch the smooth surface of the topmost sheet. I saw the shiver that ran the length of his spine and smiled.
"You have a cost per sheet?" Thesenet said mildly once he joined me.
"Why don't we go inside," I said, "and discuss it."
News of House Asara's innovation spread so quickly that by the time Darsi and I arrived to the evening meeting in the cheldzan we were crowded by the worthies of the city with questions. When the Head of House Dzeri signaled me with a significant look I left Darsi to handle the barrage and allowed Dzeri to draw me aside. Managing property took a great deal of administration. I could only imagine how many waxed rounds, stone tablets and hoarded bits of vellum and silk Dzeri was maintaining just to track its many rentals.
"So, ke emodo," he said. "Perhaps we might discuss your storefront on the Green. Maybe we could adjust your rates in return for a monthly delivery of paper..."
A ripple of gasps ran through the crowd as Darsi brought forth a palm-sized sheet, cut by Abadil for demonstrations.
"I think we can come to an agreement," I said easily.
Abadil put Kaliser in charge of managing the storefront on the Green; the empire's former spy brought three more emodo with him for staff and proved that he needed them all the first day we opened. Demand was going to readily outstrip supply for a while, and we hadn’t even started shipping to other parts of the empire. But before we could do that, we needed a finished warehouse, and to that end Hesa had drafted not just the House's spare eperu—now freed from their duties in the destroyed fields—but also the imperial eperu labor that would have been helping us with the harvest, and the Claws detailed to guarding the construction site. It no longer slept in the House nor came home, so I was reduced to receiving reports of the project's status from runners.
One such runner came to me one evening with yet another brief account, numbers, percentages complete, amount of materials used... and I tossed it aside and said to the eperu, "I'm going back with you."
Startled, it said, "Of course, ke emodo."
The road to het Kabbanil curved around the western edge of the city on its way north. The warehouse had been sited alongside it where the road straightened, and there I found... a building. A nearly complete building, with Jokka at furious work on it by the light of more firebowls than I could easily count. We rode to it, passing stacks of brick, wood, rope, passing caravans lying idle beneath large canvas tarps, passing labeled and color-coded crates.
"They're cargo," Hesa said as I came nigh. "Since we have guards here now at all hours, we've started procurement."
"So soon?" I said, not liking the fatigue I heard in its voice or the sag of its shoulders.
"We'll be shipping by the Leaf Gathering," Hesa answered, taking the reins of my rikka. "Come, Pathen. Come see."
And it led me into the warehouse... me and my rikka, for there was a channel carved straight through the building. The floors were raised almost to the level of the beast's shoulder, and for a moment I wondered why Hesa had chosen such a peculiar design... and then I saw.
"Gods!" I said. "What I wouldn't have given to have something like this in Laisira!"
Hesa chuckled, leaning against the rikka's shoulder. "That's why it's built that way. See, it's marked out on the floor."
I looked and recognized the sections painted off by size, for had I not spent a summer loading wagons for House Laisira? When a caravan drove into the warehouse, four of its wagons would fit under the roof and their beds would be level with the building's floor, so eperu could push the cargo straight onto the wagons without having to lift or lower them. Then the caravan would drive the next set of four inside. There was enough room on the other side for the eperu to unload the incoming cargo too... once the warehouse was operational I could see how quickly it would go, with the caravaneers pushing their imports off as the warehouse eperu pushed the exports on.
"This is marvelous," I said as around us the work continued.
Hesa led the rikka out through the channel, doubling around the edge of the building until I found myself staring into an unusually large window. From where I was sitting on the back of the beast, I was at just the right height to look inside. "My office," it said. "Designed so couriers can drop off reports of what's selling in which het. So we have some notion of where best to send what we have in stock before we run the caravans, which travel more slowly."
I looked down at its head. "And let me guess. Those couriers are already running."
"Of course," Hesa said. "And we have matching warehouses going up now in het Kabbanil and het Serean. They won't be ready for another two months, but they'll be able to receive cargo at the sites, since I've made it mandatory to have guards during construction."
"Hesa," I said. "This is... tremendous. But surely rushing a project of this size—"
"Pathen," it interrupted, looking up at me. "Pathen, you heard the Fire in the Void. We have less than a year now to accomplish our goals. Even more importantly, we won't be secure in het Narel until we've fulfilled the contract the Stone Moon's awarded us. Once these caravans are moving we'll be essential to the het's prosperity. This is my contribution to our safety."
"I agree those things are important," I said gently. "But your eyes are milky with fatigue and every time the rikka stops you lean on it. Even eperu have to rest, Hesa."
The head of my borrowed Claws choose that moment to approach. "Ke emodo!" he called.
"Ganeth," I said.
"You've come to take your pefna home?" he said, resting a hand on the side of my rikka before glancing at Hesa. "I assume, anyway. I think it's been sleeping on the ground for over a week now."
"I'm fine," Hesa said.
"You're near collapse," Ganeth said, ears flattening. Looking up at me, he said, "No one works harder than it. That's the problem."
"I'm fine!" Hesa repeated.
"Take it back to a proper bed, please, ke emodo," Ganeth said. "We won't suffer for a night without it. There are plenty of people here to oversee the work and guard the site."
"I think that's a fine idea," I said.
"I think it's ridiculous," Hesa muttered.
"Get on the rikka, ke eperu," Ganeth said. "Or I'll pick you up and put you there."
Hesa said, "Let me leave instructions—"
"We don't need instructions," Ganeth said. "Everyone has plenty to do, enough that it won't be done before you get back. You can give us new instructions then but for the sake of the gods, go lie down now before you give yourself a fit. And then where would we be!"
"He's right," I said. "Come up, pefna."
I thought its pause was defiance until I saw its closed eyes and realized it was so tired it was drifting off against the rikka. "Help me," I said to Ganeth, and between the two of us we got Hesa up in the saddle behind me. Its warm weight on my back would have been comforting had I not known that it was asleep.
Ganeth said to me, "I've never seen anyone work like your pefna works, ke emodo
. It sets a good example until it sets a bad one, if you take my meaning."
"I do, yes," I said. "I'll put it to bed."
"Good," he said, relieved. "We're all fond of ke Hesa, even those of us who've only just met it. I'll tell everyone where it's gone." He backed away and saluted, hand to brow. "Good evening, ke emodo."
"Ganeth," I said, dipping my head, and then I guided the beast away from the site, one hand around the arms the Claw had tucked around my body to keep the eperu balanced against me. Did he suspect? This could be an attempt to entrap me if they suspected. And yet the respect in his voice had been real, and the relief when I'd agreed.
Perhaps I had not won the Claws after all... it might have taken a brilliant eperu who'd worked itself to a breeder's fatigue for that.
When we reached the House, Hesa woke just enough to dismount and lean on me as I guided it inside and to the pefna's modest room in the eperu quarters, a bald room without ornament and with little furniture. Its bed was a brief cot with a single blanket folded at its foot. I sat the eperu on the bed and gently undressed it over its mumbled protestations before settling it on its side.
"Too much to do," it murmured.
"Tomorrow," I said, unfolding the blanket.
"Claws everywhere," it said. "Can't afford... have to be careful..."
"And you are," I said, tucking the blanket up to its shoulder.
It surprised me by grasping my wrist. I paused, watching as it forced itself to lucidity long enough to meet my eyes. "Pathen. When the day comes... deny me."
Chilled, I stared at it. Then folded its arm beneath the blanket. "Sleep, Hesa."
"Promise... promise me," it murmured, but its eyes were already closed.
Working too long in proximity to our enemies must have made its fears—our fears—more immediate. But I was glad it had fallen asleep before it could force me to make a vow I would break. I had meant every word I'd told it when we'd first been together on the back of a wagon fleeing het Kabbanil. To repudiate it was not in me.
I backed out of the room, pausing until its shoulders rose and convinced me it was still breathing. I knew eperu taxed to their limits would sleep a breeder's sleep but it was disturbing to watch someone I knew to shift and move regularly at night lying there so still, almost as if unconscious.
"Sleep yourself out, ke eperu," I murmured, and left, past the rows of cheap bunks that served the eperu in the Houses allowed by the empire to keep them. Asara's eperu had decorated the walls and their mean beds, at least; it gave their quarters a happier air. I wondered why Hesa had decided not to do the same and in my preoccupation bumped against someone in the hall.
"Ke emodo?" An unfamiliar voice. "I'm sorry, I didn't even see you... I should have been more careful."
I helped steady her, for anadi she was. "I don't know you... you must be new?"
"Yes, ke emodo," she said, lowering her face. "The two of us arrived yesterday. Ke Darsi helped us settle in. And Kuli, of course."
"And like her you're a night-wanderer," I said and chuckled. "Well, no harm done. Though if you're looking for someone to keep you company this late, I'd recommend the other anadi. The emodo tend to be asleep by now and the eperu are all engaged."
"Oh!" she said. "Yes. I was hoping for something to drink more than company..."
"Then you want the common room," I said. "Keeping going down the hall, you'll find it to the right."
"Thank you, ke emodo," she said, smiling.
"It's nothing," I said, and saw her on her way before returning to my room. Had it really a month since we took on the first anadi from the residence? Gods, I was losing the weeks. I thought of the year Keshul had promised us—one could treat a suggestion from an avatar as a promise, surely—and frowned.
I hadn't understood just how much time I'd been losing until I came home late the following evening and found Darsi in my antechamber, sprawled on a chair in front of a cup and a jar of wine... a quite large jar of wine.
"Did you know," he said conversationally as I entered, "that they keep the expensive liquor up here in the second floor storage rooms, instead of in the kitchen? Because they've reserved it for your use?"
"No," I said, pulling my coat off and folding it over the back of a chair. "I rarely drink."
"Me neither," Darsi said, "so I don't know why they buy it at all..." He squinted at me. "You smell cold. Where were you?"
"At the warehouse site," I said. "Hesa's been overworking. I thought it would be a good idea to show my face there more often, keep it from giving itself the mind-death." I lifted a brow at him. "What about you? From the scent off your skin you've been at that bottle for a while."
"Oh?" he looked at it, perplexed. "This might be the second bottle. Maybe."
I sat across from him and took the other cup. That was encouraging; he hadn't come here to be left alone with the liquor, he'd come hoping to drink with me. "So. What's wrong, Darsi?"
"Kuli's pregnant," he said.
I sat up. "Already? She knows?"
"She knows," he said. "She hasn't said anything to anyone else, though, in case it doesn't take. Sometimes they lose the children in the first few weeks."
"Sensible," I said, my heart slowing again. "Normally I'd say this was cause for a celebratory jar of wine, but you don't seem in a very celebratory mood."
Darsi looked up at me, pained, and said, "I love her, Pathen."
"And," I said after a moment, "you're afraid for her now that she's with child."
"That I'll lose her," he said, trembling. "Yes."
I sighed and poured for myself.
"That's it?" Darsi said. "Just... acceptance? I'm... I've admitted to loving an anadi, Pathen!"
"You expect that to disturb me?" I said, flicking an ear back.
"Well, no," he admitted. "But... loving an anadi's worse, somehow. I mean, really loving them. They die!"
"They suffer," I said. "And they are more prone to the mind-death. But we all die, Darsi. I just assigned myself a nightly tour of the warehouse site because House Asara's pefna-eperu—an eperu—is doing its best to kill itself. The mind-death hunts us all."
"But... an anadi!" Darsi whispered, covering his face.
I said, "A Jokkad, Darsi. A generous, brave and thoughtful Jokkad. Why wouldn't you love her?"
"But I have to give her up!" he said.
"Why?" I said. As he looked up, wide-eyed, I said, "She's given two children already to the residence. If she brings this one to term, that will be three. I don't see why that shouldn't be enough. Though if she wants to give you a child of your own..."
His face had blanched. "Pathen..."
"Darsi," I said, briskly. "You love her. Does she love you?"
"Yes!"
"Do you enjoy each other's company?" I said.
"Yes," he said, ears flattening.
"Then what's the problem?" I said.
He looked at his cup, shoulders sagging. "I didn’t plan this, Pathen. To love an anadi. I don't know what I'd do if I lost her. And I don't know... if I can bear her doing her duty, knowing the risk to her."
"Darsi," I said gently. "It's not your choice to make. It's hers."
He looked away, fingers clenched on the table. I respected his silence and sipped from the cup. It really was very good wine.
"How do you do it?" he said softly. "How do you live with your heart beating outside your body?"
I smiled a little. "Honestly? Very badly."
Darsi barked a startled laugh. He ran a hand over his brow. "Gods, Pathen. What have we come to."
"And where are we going," I murmured. I ignored his glance and tapped my cup against his. "To House Asara's first child, born of an anadi's true choice."
Darsi looked down at his cup, then lifted it. "To Kuli."
My decision to oversee the warehouse project to moderate Hesa's zeal worked only because the project was so close to completion... but it did work. I was satisfied that no one was laboring to the point of collapse and the eperu at the
site were pleased to have me there to watch their plans manifest. It was worth watching. I thought Thesenet had bought his het's prosperity at a bargain price.
Abadil's paper project brought sufficient income to induce Holdings to allow withdrawals again, and I returned to paying the House's petty expenses. Transactions still sent the weekly accounting on wax tablets, but I did my record-keeping on our own paper and found it an unexpected pleasure... the smell of ink and the feel of a brush rolling in my fingers. It made the House administration less tedious.
I was in my office copying the weekly accounting when Abadil arrived with Kaliser at his heels. "Ke Pathen?"
I tapped out the excess ink and set the brush aside. "Abadil? What can I help you with?"
"It's not me this time, if you please," he said. "Kaliser here has a troubling observation to share with you."
"Is that so," I said. "Please, have a seat, both of you."
Kaliser, former imperial spy, was nervous... but he sat before me and fixed me with an earnest gaze. "Ke emodo. I fear that… I fear that my fellow emodo are paying the eperu."
"What?" I said.
"That eperu that you gave money to," he said, folding his hands together to keep them still. "The one that got in trouble... the story about that... no one's ever forgotten that you thought it unfair that the Stone Moon doesn't allow eperu to be paid. So the emodo have gotten together and split their salaries, and are keeping half in a separate common store for the eperu."
"Do the eperu take the money?" I asked, frowning.
"No!" Kaliser said. "No, they don't. The emodo... they go to the market in groups and divide up the shops between them. Then each one goes to the shops he's been assigned and comes back to report what's for sale. One emodo writes the information down and runs it back to the House...."
"And the eperu gather around this list and order from it?" I asked, struggling with my expression.
"Then the runner goes back and distributes their requests so the rest of the emodo can buy them," Kaliser finishes, shoulders falling.
A Bloom in the North Page 24
