by Gail Dayton
"I just—I don't—” She broke off, fighting for composure.
Goddess, she was that tired, that close to giving in to tears. Obed swept her into his arms. “You can't even stand."
"Can't you work the magic from that door?” Aisse waved at the door where the Tayo Dai waited. “We could be just outside. I do not want to be witness if I don't have to. And you could be just inside. With Torchay and Obed and whoever else insists."
"I,” Leyja said. “I insist."
"All right, yes. I'll do it Aisse's way.” Kallista's agreement was reluctant. “Obed, put me down."
"No.” He strode along the decking, trying to maintain the control he'd once been celebrated for, while emotions clamored inside him. But he was not the same man he had been the last time he'd been in this place. Then, he stood alone against a grand master who had prophesied failure, who had mocked his remorse for the deaths he had caused.
Now, Obed was alone no more. He had found what he'd never had. A home where his love was welcomed and returned. Which was why he was so terrified of losing it. Kallista was all he had.
"Obed, put me down,” she said again. “I thought I could count on you at least to do what I asked without arguing."
And see what his little rebellion, his tiny defiance had got him?
Sick to the heart, he set her on her feet. “If that is what you want, that is what I shall be. I am yours, Chosen.” He moved away, ready to catch her if her strength wasn't sufficient.
"Nathain, are you ready?” Elder Cori approached, her manner as brisk as her stride.
"Yes, of course.” Kallista swayed as she turned to face the other woman.
Obed reached out, but Torchay was there before him. He braced Kallista until she could stand alone, then took his place behind her. Obed folded his arms to wait. Leyja took up a similar stance beside him as the other four filed through the door with the Tayo Dai. He felt Kallista's touch deep inside as she drew magic once more, felt the surge of energy it left behind. It always felt good when she called their magic, but it didn't always feel the same. It depended on her purpose when she called it, like the difference between touching someone to caress and touching him to add strength to a task. This was work. The magic seemed to move slowly, though Obed didn't know what made it feel that way. He willed it to speed up, to cooperate, but didn't know what effect his meager will might have. Then the screams began. Kallista shuddered. Obed moved to hold her, but Torchay was already there, gathering her in, as always. He held her, murmured in her ear, then turned her into Obed's arms. Would she ever be there if Torchay did not hand her along? Only Torchay had been able to bring her back from the spirit world after Stone's death. How could Obed compete with that? Could he survive on the driblets that trickled down to him? “Let's go,” Torchay said. “If they're not dead already, they will be soon. It's only getting worse.” Kallista huddled against Obed, almost as if she wanted to crawl inside him and hide. He wrapped her in his arms, against his bare chest and held her tight. “It is only what they have done to others,” he murmured as he eased her out the door. “Nothing of your doing.” She shuddered. “That's what Torchay said. But—” Of course Torchay had said it first. Torchay did everything first and left nothing for the rest of them. Obed tried to throw off his bitterness. None of the others believed Kallista could love only one of them, but he'd grown up with the idea of One True Love and he kept sliding back to that idea. She was in his arms, but only because Torchay had put her there. She had come willingly, though. She clung to him, welcomed the comfort he offered. He had to focus on that, on what he had rather than what he didn't. What else could he do?
* * * *
They took an extra day in Edabi to rest so that Kallista wouldn't fall off her horse riding back to Mestada, but by the end of Firstday, they were back in the embassy. Kallista had sent a message by way of Taylin Farspeaker with a list of the trial champions to be presented to the justiciars. Torchay, Obed and Fox would be joined by five of the new Tayo Dai, including Genista, Night and Gweric's bodyguard Kerry.
Keldrey met the family with back-slapping hugs and enthusiastic kisses, especially for the little ones who had missed their Papi Kel. He inspected the newest Tayo Dai, for Genista's Ruel had already taken the oath. Keldrey reported that Sky continued well, growing stronger with the extra food brought him. The count of slaves in Mestada had reached over five hundred, and Padrey had word of a few score in the countryside.
Clerics had turned up that very morning, demanding to search the embassy for their missing naitani. With the place virtually empty, Keldrey had let them search as they pleased, insisting only that each cleric be accompanied by an Adaran escort. Nothing had been found, of course. The naitani were happily practicing their magic by the canal docks, under the protection of their champions, their magic and all those who benefited from that magic.
The city's residents seemed not quite to know what to think of the collapsed temple walls. The clerics tried to rebuild them, but the stones would not stay one atop the other, the work of one day undone before the next day's work could begin. Arguments flared as to whether it was the Hand of the One preventing the rebuilding, or ordinary vandals knocking things over every night. The clerics even set guards, but after the guards kept falling asleep and the stones sliding back to the ground while they slept, the “Hand of the One” side of the argument seemed to be winning. The rebuilding was abandoned.
On Hopeday, some of the more daring among the populace—perhaps encouraged by the dockside naitani, for the brave were mostly among the poor—ventured across the rubble onto the temple grounds to participate in the day's worship. They didn't quite dare enter the temple itself—it might not have held them all had they tried—but they were in the gardens. Keldrey hadn't heard whether any of the still-cloistered naitani had made an appearance, but there was no retaliation against those who dared “sully” temple soil with their unsanctified presence. So perhaps things were beginning to turn back to the way they had been before the demons’ interference.
Life fell into a routine. Or as much of a routine as was possible while in a foreign country with a child missing and a trial by combat hanging over their heads. And that was without mentioning the rumbling turmoil in the city. Habadra Chani took a few extra days to name her trial champions. She was reported to be extremely unhappy to learn that Edabi dedicats refused all requests to participate in any trial, including hers. But at last the trial date was set.
It would begin with the individual contests on Firstday, the eighteenth of Forende, as fall began to shift into winter, the mêlée battle to follow the next day.
While the Adaran champions practiced, honing their skills on each other and anyone willing to step into the courtyard with them, Kallista played Reinine. It was a role she played, a job she did. Inside the fancy clothes, she was still Kallista Varyl, soldier. And a soldier always did her duty.
So she met with all the Kameri who begged audience, bringing them into the embassy proper for luncheons and afternoon teas, and attending as few outside events as Viyelle and Namida Ambassador thought prudent. Each of the Heads Kallista talked with had their own interests and concerns, but after the first five or six, she began to see a pattern. They wanted magic, but they wanted it without having to change their comfortable, profitable way of life—that comforted and profited so very few. The changes that followed Kallista like a flock of ducklings disturbed, upset or outraged them, depending on just how resistant to change that particular Head of Line might be.
Obliquely—and sometimes directly—they accused her of wanting to destroy their entire society. And, so far as their society was influenced and guided by demons, that was true.
Kallista did find it interesting that when she mentioned the possibility of having their own Daryathi naitani—nathains—working in society, outside the temples, most of the Kameri stopped sputtering. They listened intently to her reports of the young nathains living near the docks, building a new temple there, gaining support fro
m the populace who protected them from those who disapproved. The potential for change kept Kallista talking long after her voice became a frog's croak, kept her meeting with one Head of Line after another. If they could break apart the things created here by demons, perhaps it would drive the demons out of hiding to defend their work.
Gweric attended all her luncheons and teas, despite the snubs and cruelty dealt out when the Daryathi caught sight of his scars. He sniffed for demon presence so Kallista could send her magic into those he marked. She didn't want to search everyone she encountered. For one thing, people noticed when they had magic rummaging around in themselves, and they usually did not react well even if they were not demon-possessed.
Grand Master Murat might have gone on his rampage even if he had not been magic-searched, but Kallista had to accept the possibility that her search might have set him off. It wouldn't keep her from searching those Gweric indicated, but she didn't dare go round shoving magic willy-nilly into just anyone. Not yet. Not until necessary.
Besides it was exhausting. Even when they'd had their ninth, using the magic required effort. Without Stone, it took immense amounts of strength to move the magic, especially as powerful as it had somehow grown. It was disrespectful to think this way, she knew, but Kallista wished the One would hurry up and mark Keldrey already. It was time and beyond.
Chapter Twenty-One
As the first week of waiting for the trial passed and the second began to wear away without Gweric finding a single new person for her to search, Kallista found herself wanting to scream with frustration. Nothing moved. Time itself seemed suspended. The demons refused to be found, though their stink was everywhere. They even hid from her dreams.
She stalked the dreamscape, rapier in her hands, demon-hound at her heels. "Where are you?" Her cry set the mists to quivering with its fury.
You think we are so stupid as to tell you? The whisper came from all directions and none, slithering out of the grayness.
You think you are so powerful, that you can defeat us, but you can't. You are flesh and blood, born to die. One mortal being who can do nothing without those who cluster round you like fat gathering on a scummy pond. Already we have weakened you, taken part of your strength.
Suddenly Stone lay in front of her bleeding onto the paving stones, his head rolled a little distance from his body. Kallista cried out, turned away, but the sight moved, staying before her eyes. It wasn't real.
It had been real, yes, but it was past, his body burned, the ashes waiting for the journey home. She had coped, accepted the death—not well and not completely—she still cried at night when Obed was asleep and couldn't hear. But she didn't have time for more grief. Not now. She was needed.
"I've weakened you as well,” she retorted, more bravado than anything. “I took away your skola, and the temple walls are down. Nathains are in the city, doing their work among the people. You are losing power."
You've done nothing. You cannot harm us. We have taken this one, and we will take the rest, the insidious whisper came back.
A vision of Torchay flashed into view beside Stone. He was spilled open on the sands, split from neck to nethers.
All of your strength.
Obed lay beside him, in pieces. Aisse joined them, and Fox and Joh and Viyelle and Leyja, until all of them lay dead and bleeding across the dreamscape.
Kallista refused to scream. It's not real. None of it.
She lashed out with her magic and the vision burst, exploding into a few ragged shreds of mist.
We will take everything from you. The whisper returned. Even those little pustules of humanity you call children. We will strip it all away until you are exposed, naked, vulnerable, powerless. And then we will destroy you too.
"No!” Kallista cried. “You won't. You can't. I won't let you!"
But the voice was gone, leaving behind no hint as to where it had come from and no way to track where it had gone. She screamed her fury into the dreamscape and woke to find herself whimpering, held tight in Obed's arms.
Torchay stroked a hand down her shoulder. “It's been a while since one of us woke screaming from a dream. Did you find the demons then?"
"No, curse it.” She laid her cheek on Obed's shoulder, needing to feel it attached to the rest of his body. “But they talked to me.” She tugged Torchay round to where she could see him. “You are all in one piece, right? No gaping holes? No internal organs trying to escape?"
"Perfectly grand.” He spread his arms, displaying his torso, whole and healthy. “And I've no plans to be gutted again, thank you. Three times is quite enough for one lifetime, even if I did survive them all.” He paused. “Is that what you dreamed?"
Kallista nodded, tightening her arms around Obed. “You were all dead. Obed was in pieces. You were gutted. Aisse was—"
"No need for details. Once had to be bad enough."
"It was.” She checked that Obed's legs were still attached. Yes, he was holding her, breathing warm into her ear. Yes, she knew the dream wasn't real. But she had to check.
"Why?” Obed seemed reluctant to speak. “Why did you dream this? Why did the demons not simply continue to hide?"
"Good question.” One she hadn't considered. Kallista sat back and subjected Obed to a more complete inspection, touching as well as looking. Every well-loved part of him was present, including the ear she'd seen sail through the fog and land at her feet. She turned and sat with her back against him, pulling his arms into place around her again. “Maybe because our tactics are working. Maybe the demons have figured out that we're not going to just go away. So they're resorting to threats."
A rap sounded at the door and Joh looked in, his waist-length hair spilling through after. “Everything all right?"
"Fine,” Kallista began.
Torchay walked his words over hers. “She's dreaming demons."
"I'll get the others.” Joh left before she could stop him.
Viyelle arrived first, her eyes red and swollen. Kallista held her arms out and the younger woman fell into them with a sob. Torchay folded her into the middle of an ilian embrace.
"I miss him so much,” Viyelle said, her choked tears bringing on Kallista's. “It's worse at night, with just Joh and me and no one on my other side."
"Oh, love.” Kallista wept with her, all of them rocking together. “My poor darling."
As the others arrived, they joined the embrace until it was a tangle of arms, legs and tears, with Viyelle in the middle. When the storm finally ended, Kallista wiped away Viyelle's tears, then her own, with a corner of the bed cover.
"Come to us,” Kallista said. “You and Joh, or ask one of the others to join you, if you think this bed too small for five."
"I'll come,” Keldrey said. “The beds here are too small for four, much less five."
"Joh said you dreamed demons.” Aisse leaned back into Keldrey's solid form.
"I didn't see them, but I heard them.” Quickly, Kallista shared what she had dreamed. “I think it means they're still trying to scare us into going away and leaving them alone. But they won't succeed."
"They succeeded in killing Stone,” Viyelle said in a small voice.
"And because of that, we're warned. We take extra care. We can't tuck tail and run. If the demons aren't destroyed, they won't stop trying to destroy us.” Kallista stretched her arms as far as she could, trying to touch each one of her iliasti. “They will go after us one at a time, because together we are more than we are separately. We cannot let anything drive us apart, and we cannot turn back."
"No one goes anywhere alone,” Torchay said. “Even inside the embassy."
A yawn caught Kallista suddenly. “Why are we talking business in the tiny chimes of the night?"
"Because that's when the demons come.” Torchay gave Aisse an affectionate squeeze, then handed her off to Fox. “Now go back to your own beds and let me sleep. Morning comes early."
* * * *
Two days later, on his visit to check on Sk
y's welfare, Keldrey found himself escorted into Habadra House, to the courtyard where Stone had died. Habadra Chani waited there with a Tibran pistol which she proceeded to use in a demonstration of her power. One after the other, she executed an adult son of her Line and Sky's burly champion-escort for failing to fulfill her expectations. She ended with a threat to execute Stone's son in the same way if the court case was not dropped.
Keldrey told Kallista of Habadra's threats as soon as he returned, but when they complained to the justiciars, Chani denied it all. The only living witnesses were a small boy, a bondservant and Habadra's two pet champions. However, the justiciars agreed to take the disputed property into custody until after the trial in one more week—nine long days.
Justiciar's custody was scarcely better than Habadra's, especially for a five-year-old boy. The only place they had to keep him was the jail where they held those accused of crimes and bound over for trial. They did give him a cell to himself in the better part of the jail, where there was light and Kallista could pay for extra comforts, like a blanket and better food. But it was still a solitary, barred cell for a very small boy.
The best thing about the move was that now, only Kallista was forbidden to visit to the boy—Kallista Varyl and Habadra Chani, the parties to the lawsuit. Despite Chani's protests, everyone else was allowed, including the godmarked. Kallista sent Joh to visit nearly every day, at a different time from Keldrey, so Sky would spend less time alone. She could ride Joh's vision, see Stone's son for herself, but it was almost worse this way. She could see, but not touch. Most of the others went along at one time or another. Riots broke out in that last week of waiting, confined mostly to the areas near the trade canals, and where the hovels of the poor bumped up against the better-off parts of town. They kept raging, and they spread. Rumor said the rioting began at a small trial in the east canal district. A dockworker claimed he'd been cheated of wages by a barge captain. Unable to find a champion willing to fight for the pittance he could pay, the screwsman—a specialist in “screwing” cotton into holds—would have been forced to fight his own trial against the barger's champion. The truthsayer nathain had appeared at the trial's opening when the parties made their claims. He'd declared the barger's claim a blatant, bald-faced lie, and produced others she'd cheated—not just dockworkers but merchants and craftsmen as well. The barger's champion had struck down the screwsman anyway, declaring a victory, and the whole district exploded. The people rioted against the injustice, against a system where all the magic, the wealth and the power was concentrated in the hands of a few, the Heads of the Hundred Lines. They rioted to spur on the changes that now seemed possible. Or they rioted to stop them, because the changes were against the teachings of the Sameric sect. But everyone seemed to believe that whatever was wrong could be blamed on the Adarans. One bunch seemed to hold Adarans at fault for allowing the Lines to enslave them and monopolize all the employment. Others hated Adarans on principle, for their perversions and blasphemy and letting their magic-users run around loose. Whatever the cause, few in the city were friendly. And so the day arrived for the trial between Kallista Varyl and Habadra Chani.
