She walked fast, ignoring the sea and the gray sky and the beauty of the sails and the men who climbed in the rigging like spiders from one strand of web to another. Her thoughts were in confusion. Then, as she passed a row of cabin doors, one creaked open and a voice said, “Kirian!”
She recognized the voice instantly. She knew it well, from the years at the Healer’s College. She looked towards the sound and saw his peaked face peering at her.
“What?” she hissed.
“Come in here, Kirian. We need help.”
Kirian hesitated, but as a Healer, she could not ignore those words. She slid through the narrow gap of the open door and saw Inmay, pale and tired-looking by the door, and Eyelinn reclining on the single cot. The cabin was as small as her own, and lit by a single candle in a tin holder. The light from the open door illuminated Eyelinn’s deep brown eyes, fixed on Kirian like an adder’s.
“What now?” Kirian asked.
“We need help. We need to disembark at Las’ash, but we can’t let anyone see us. There’s a lord on the ship from Two Merkhan.”
She could not believe what he was asking. “Is anyone hurt?” Kirian asked. “Ill?”
“Hurt? No. We need your help distracting the cursed nobleman. I don’t know how many men he has with him, or why they haven’t searched the ship yet.”
Kirian stared at him and wanted nothing more than to be rid of both of them. She shook her head and turned toward the door.
“Kirian!” Inmay pleaded.
“You can get yourself off the ship. I am not being dragged any further into this. I’m in trouble myself because of you.”
“It was your own decision,” Eyelinn drawled from the bed.
Anger flooded her veins. She did not trust herself to speak. Without another word she slipped back out the door and proceeded to her own cabin. There she sat on the bed and covered herself with the blanket against the chill that invaded the boards of the cabin. Eyelinn and Inmay could rot, for all she cared—Inmay with his helpless desire for beautiful women, Eyelinn with her scorn and selfishness. She owed them nothing. She had already given up her life at SeagardVillage for them. If not for Inmay, right now she could be sitting with Ruthan before the fire, healing someone in the village, hiking one of the mountain goat-trails through the winter terrain. Or she might be at the Castle, ministering to one of the spoiled righ.
She smiled, thinking about all that, and wondered if Inmay had not done her a favor after all. Because right now she felt free for the first time in her life. She would not be anywhere else.
* * * * *
Day dawned cold and wintry as the Fortune docked at Las’ash. Kirian had been awake for an hour at least, mulling over her conversation with Chiss and Callo the previous day. Callo had excused himself from Ghosian’s table at the first appearance of the Smoke brazier, and they had gathered in his cabin to discuss what they wanted to do in Las’ash. Or rather, what Kirian wanted to do. She still had no idea what Callo sought there.
She was beginning to wonder whether it was wise for her to stay with Lord Callo. Again last night, as they discussed plans, she was aware of every motion Callo made, responsive to his every change in mood. She realized she was infatuated with him. She thought Callo, absorbed in his own concerns, seemed unaware of her interest, but twice she had noticed Chiss watching her.
Chiss had an unsuspected depth of knowledge about the role of women in Ha’las. She wondered how he came by it, but when she asked, Chiss evaded the question. He told them that women were guarded with single-minded determination, always accompanied by another woman and frequently a male relative. Those who had no protector were taken in by the priests. Those who broke the laws—especially broke them in such a manner as to offend the public sense of morality—were punished.
“Punished, how?” Kirian asked.
“That varies,” Chiss responded. “The woman could be imprisoned. She could be given to some man in the priests’ favor to protect from that point on.” Kirian grimaced at that. “Or she could be executed.”
“Serious about this, aren’t they?” Callo said, frowning.
“Very serious, my lord. It is a concern for us.”
“Kirian is a woman of knowledge, a Healer. Won’t that make a difference?”
Chiss shrugged. “I do not know. I know of no such women in Ha’las.”
“I will not hide in some room waiting for one of you to have time to escort me about,” Kirian said. “We are foreign. They must make allowances for foreign ways, surely.”
“I would not count on it, Hon Kirian. It is a religious matter, you see. Matters of religion tend not to be so flexible. And I know the priests are jealous of their status. They will defend their laws.”
“Jashan’s eyes,” Callo said impatiently. “How do we get around this? Perhaps you would rather choose to go on, Kirian. Stay with the Fortune until her next port. I think the Leyish lady is returning home. You have a sense of adventure. Do you want to see Leyland?”
She made a face at him.
“It is not so bad, Leyland. My estate is near there. I go into Leyland sometimes when I am there.”
“I am not going to Leyland. I do have a sense of adventure, my lord, and I have decided I want to see Ha’las.”
“My lord,” Chiss said. “Perhaps when we arrive we could introduce Hon Kirian as a blood relative.”
“No.” Callo’s tone was abrupt. Surprised, Kirian looked up, but Callo was frowning at Chiss.
“It will not solve the problem, but it will make things a little easier for Hon Kirian,” Chiss argued.
“Nevertheless. If the ku’an have any knowledge at all of the Righan royalty, they will know there is no young woman anywhere in the family tree, let alone a Healer.”
“Then she could be a relation of mine,” Chiss said. He looked at Kirian. “Let me be clear, Hon Kirian, this will not eliminate the need for a chaperone for you. But it will allow us to see each other, at least.”
Kirian was not going to allow herself to be isolated from the only link she had to Righar. “That would be fine, Chiss. Thank you. A cousin, perhaps.”
“So be it,” Callo said. “You must have a veil. Chiss said all the women go veiled.”
“All the respectable women go well-covered, yes,” Chiss said.
“I can arrange a veil,” Kirian said. Then she flushed. “Although, it occurs to me, Lord Callo. I left the village suddenly, and without time to pack. I may not have suitable clothing after all.”
“Is that all? I have funds. We will take care of that in Las’ash city. I am getting tired of seeing that cloak anyway.” He waved at her only cloak, which she had been wearing since they had met on the road.
She wanted to make a rude comment about that, but was stifled by her appreciation for the generous offer he had just made. She did not look at him as she said, “Thank you, my lord.”
Then there was a finger under her chin, raising her chin so she would look up and meet his eyes. “You are lovely even in that old cloak,” he said. She caught her breath and looked away.
The next morning, after the horses were offloaded, she bid a polite farewell to Ghosian, who stood on deck with a pipe in his mouth. She descended the ship’s walkway to the dock. Callo was already mounted; Miri was dancing a little with pleasure at being out of the ship’s hold. Three ships were at dock along with the Fortune, their rigging ghostly in the morning fog. Moisture dripped from the ship’s rails and the hawsers. Smaller craft bobbed on the choppy sea nearby.
“Good morning,” she said. She mounted her mare, and fumbled with the bit of cloak she and Chiss had turned into a makeshift veil, making sure it covered the lower part of her face.
“Good morning to you, Healer,” Chiss said. “It’s a bit of a gray one though.”
“Good luck to you!” Ghosian called from deck.
Callo waved, and they set off down the dock. Kirian cast a last look behind, wondering if Inmay and Eyelinn were still aboard or had already stolen onto
the docks. Even at this early hour there was some activity on the docks as men began to offload the Fortune’s cargo from her hold. Dark-skinned sailors on one of the other ships called across to the Fortune’s men, but the fog muffled most of the sound.
Las’ash city was apparently in the middle of a winter thaw. Heaps of dirt-crusted snow stood here and there, off to the side or behind small structures, as if there had recently been a snowstorm that had been cleared. Everything on the docks—cloth banners, tabletops, ropes, roofs—dripped with moisture. The horses splashed through occasional puddles as they made their way past the docks.
Two food stands were open at the end of the dock. The indistinct shapes of several people stood near them in the fog with their hands full of tea or bread and cheese. There was a spicy, fatty smell that made Kirian’s mouth water—sausage, she thought, but different from that in Two Merkhan.
The dock was walled off from the city proper. The wall, a weathered wood structure, allowed glimpses between slats of the houses and streets of Las’ash, but permitted no exit from the public dock area. Kirian followed her companions along the wall until a tall gate came into view. It was chained shut and guarded by two armed men. More men stood at lazy guard near a structure a few yards away. A flag showing a golden eye on a black background drooped from a post atop the guard house. Kirian braced herself for trouble.
The men had been watching them for some time. As they approached the gate, one guard called: “Names and business?”
Chiss dismounted and approached the guards. He ran down the list of their names. Then he said, “My lord’s business is with the palace.”
The guard snorted. “I’ve heard that before. We’ve received no word of you or your Lord Callo. You’d best get back on the tub that brought you and count your blessings.”
Callo urged Miri closer to the guardsmen. “It would be in your best interest to admit us without delay.”
The second guard, his interest caught perhaps by Callo’s mild tone, looked up and into Callo’s face for the first time. He paled and said, “Uh, Ja’lar . . .”
“What do you think you’re going to do to make us let you in?” jeered Ja’lar, hand on his sword. “In case you don’t know, Las’ash is closed to foreigners, lord or slave. King Ar’ok don’t want foreigners cluttering up the place. What in the hell do you want, Sa’jal? Why are you jabbing at me like that?”
Sa’jal, bowing very deeply in Callo’s direction, said: “My lord ku’an.”
Ja’lar’s eyes widened. He looked up, at Callo’s face, into Callo’s eyes. After one horrified moment, he was bowing even deeper than his companion. Kirian looked at both of them, her jaw dropping in disbelief. Then she looked at Callo.
He frowned at the men’s reaction, and was silent.
After a moment Chiss said, “We will need an escort to the palace.”
“Of course, great Lord,” babbled Ja’lar. “I didn’t know—please forgive my, uh, mistake. I myself will escort you to the palace. You will want to see the Ku’an’an, Lord Si’lan. What do you want done with your woman?”
“What do you mean, what does he want done?” Kirian demanded. “I accompany Lord Callo and Chiss.”
The two guardsmen had seen no sign of anger from Callo other than a frown, so Sa’jal had the temerity to speak up. “It is not allowed, my Lord Ku’an, to take a woman into the public rooms without a female companion.”
“I’ll deal with that at the palace,” Callo said. “This is no ordinary woman. She accompanies me.”
Sa’jal and Ja’lar peered up at Kirian, trying to see what made her so out of the ordinary. She looked at Chiss, who smiled at her and shrugged. Kirian checked that her makeshift veil was in place; she hoped it met the local standards for modesty.
Ja’lar actually left his post to escort them. Calling another guardsman to relieve him, he led them through the city.
The journey through the narrow streets of Las’ash was uneventful. Kirian guided Lady after the others along streets slippery with half-melted snow and ice. Wood-smoke from chimneys clouded the air. They passed many small buildings, houses, and little shops, most of them just showing signs of life as Las’ash awakened. In one small open area, veiled women, cloaked against the cold, gathered around a community well, drawing buckets of water for household tasks. A shopkeeper threw up his front shutter, startling Lady, who shied and neighed. The shopkeeper’s dark eyes met Kirian’s for a second before the man looked down and away.
Then they were in an area with no houses. A slightly larger building sat to the side of the street, doors decorated with a colorful mural showing some bloody scene from Ha’lasi history; Kirian caught a glimpse of a larger-than-life being—a god perhaps? —with a red anatomically-correct heart painted on his chest, and a screaming woman, unveiled and terrified. Perhaps the building was a temple, dedicated to the ku’an god Som’ur. Kirian shuddered. The scene on the door was barbaric, and gave her no faith as to the kindness of the people of Ha’las.
They rode up a walkway to a large stone building, surrendered their horses into the care of a groom, and were politely detained at a wide double door by a unit of guardsmen. Ja’lar stepped forward and conversed with one of them in a low voice. A moment later, the other man strode off and came back accompanied by his commander.
When Ja’lar presented them to his commander, Kirian was once again amazed as the man bowed low to Lord Callo.
Callo’s face was expressionless. From her vantage point seated on Lady behind him, Kirian could see his shoulders set.
They dismounted and gave the horses into the keeping of a groom. The commander led them into a windowless receiving chamber. There, a golden tray laden with dried winter fruits and nuts was set before them, and a heavily veiled servant brought wine in cups to match. They were left alone while the Ku’an’an was notified of their presence.
“Well!” Kirian said. “I’d avoid the wine, if I were you.”
Lord Callo set down his cup. “You are the voice of reason.”
“You may need to stay sharp. What is this ku’an business, Lord Callo?”
After a moment passed during which Callo showed no disposition to reply, Chiss said: “My lord is a ku’an by birth, Hon Kirian. They know when they see his eyes.”
Callo looked tense to the point of breakage. Kirian ignored his grim face and, lightly, said: “Thank the gods for that, or they’d have dropped us into the sea when we refused to go away.”
“Very likely,” agreed Chiss.
“As it is, we have a favored status,” Kirian went on. “And I have not been thrown into some women’s hermitage somewhere, my lord, because you vouched for me.”
“There is that.”
“Ah, but we are not done with you yet,” said a deep voice.
The new arrival was a man in his vigorous middle years. His hair was mostly silver, but had once been the color of straw. His lined face was still handsome, and his eyes were the color of amber. He wore a long robe caught up with a gold sash, slit to show the scarlet tunic beneath. Authority was written all over his face.
Callo was staring at the man’s eyes as they all rose and bowed.
“Yes, you have my eyes,” the new arrival said. “I am Si’lan, the ku’an’an—that is, the lord of the ku’an, the psychic mages. An unknown ku’an is a rare thing. They called me immediately.”
“You said I have your eyes.”
“A ku’an’s eyes, I mean,” said Lord Si’lan. The half-smile on his lips struck Kirian as malicious. “You came in on the Fortune, they said, from Righar.”
Callo nodded. “I am Callo ran Alkiran, and my companions are Chiss and his cousin, Healer Kirian.”
Si’lan scanned each of them, slowly, returning to Callo. His eyes seemed very golden in the enclosed room, as gold as the platter with the fruit and nuts. Kirian began to feel odd. Suddenly she felt her shoulders pressing against the wooden chair-back, the backs of her knees ticklish with sweat against the seat. The chill air began to have
texture; it scraped against the skin of her face and neck. The sweet fragrance of the fruit and wine mixed with the brown scent of nuts, overwhelming her. The sound of everyone’s breathing was loud as coughing, and when she touched the fabric of her cloak, she almost cried out from the pain of the contact with the worn fabric. Confused and frightened, she blinked back tears against the sensory onslaught. Her stomach heaved in reaction.
Then the ku’an’an swayed back, hand to his head. Callo came to his feet, reaching for his sword.
“Stop!” Callo ordered.
“I have. I have. Sheathe your sword,” Si’lan’s voice was hoarse, and he blinked his eyes as if they teared. “I have stopped.”
Kirian took a deep breath. The world was back to normal again, her nerves only a little raw from the overload. Chiss, behind her, drew an audibly ragged breath.
“What was that?” Kirian asked.
“That was an attack,” Callo said, glaring at Si’lan. He had not yet sheathed his sword.
Si’lan shook his head. “Please, Lord Callo, sheathe your weapon. It was not intended to be an attack but rather a test. I had to be sure, you see, that you were in fact what your eyes advertise you to be.”
“And you are certain now?”
“I am.” Si’lan had recovered, Kirian saw, and there was a calculating look in his eyes. “You shoved my magery back at me. I am surprised you knew what to do. You have great strength, for a half-breed.”
“You know who I am, then.”
“Oh, yes. We have been aware of the yellow-eyed Royal Bastard for some time.”
Callo slid his sword back into its scabbard. He showed no reaction to the slur, which he must have been well used to hearing. Kirian took a deep breath and wondered what she had gotten herself into.
“I am here to talk to you, or some other ku’an,” Callo said. “My intentions are honorable. I do not expect to be attacked, or to have my companions attacked, just because you have the power to do so.”
Color Mage (Book 1) Page 15
