by Karen Myers
They finally reached their goal just off the grand avenue—a bonded stable that occupied part of a compound associated with a hostel where they could leave their horses and goods temporarily and be confident of finding them again. Zep Pangwit had no knowledge of what would happen after he delivered them to his superiors at the office of Imperial Security, but he couldn’t drag them there in their travel clothing with eighteen horses. “Zannib barbarians,” he’d muttered when he’d first seen what they planned to bring into the city. This was his solution to the problem.
As the designated leader of their party, Najud was bombarded with questions by the clerk of the stable who recorded all the answers neatly on a piece of papyrus—the names, ages, and citizenship of the travelers, the list of horses and goods, and so forth. Zep Pangwit tried to hasten the process along, moaning about them being expected by now.
Penrys paid little attention until the clerk’s words “and to whom should the goods be released if you die or are imprisoned” struck her ears, and she turned on her heel to stare at him. “Very civilized,” she commented to Munraz in wirqiqa-Zannib, and he grinned in appreciation.
“Najud said they’re responsible for the safety of all our goods,” Munraz said. “The penalties for failure are… severe.”
Maybe so, but I hate to leave my power-stones here. Penrys hoped the hefty sack of pea-sized dull stones would pass for something of little worth, if anyone should look. They were far more valuable, anywhere wizards used devices, than the two small pouches of gold that Tun Jeju had awarded them, on the emperor’s behalf, after their success in Neshilik six months ago.
“We should change clothes.” She nudged Munraz in the direction of their personal packs. She rooted through hers and removed the new trousers, shirt, and boots she’d bought in Qawrash im-Dhal, and the green himmib Zannib robe, with the woman’s stiff and embroidered bodice, one of several sets of clothing for both work and formal occasions that she’d purchased on Najud’s advice when she re-equipped herself there. The permanent base of the Grand Caravan had everything a traveler could want.
The goat’s-wool of the robe was soft against her cheek. She looked around for any sort of water source and found nothing except a pump for the use of the horses. She borrowed a clean bucket, rinsed it out and partially refilled it, and ducked into the tack room, shooing the grooms out that she found there and latching the door. She used her discarded shirt to do a quick wash with the cold water and redressed in her new clothing. A run of her fingers through her hair, and that was about all she could do to make herself presentable, under the circumstances.
When she emerged with the bucket in one hand and the dirty clothes in the other, she caught sight of her husband’s grin and a sneer on the face of Zep Pangwit. The interested attention of the stable staff put her on her mettle, and when their guide opened his mouth to rebuke her, she lowered the bucket to the stable floor with a clang of metal and interrupted him before he could properly begin.
“That will be quite enough of that, Zep-chi,” she said, in her most upper-class Kigali yat. “Is it my fault that you can’t convey the invited guests of Tun Jeju to someplace with bathing facilities so that we can show him the proper respect when we meet, or would you rather we arrive in all our dirt, after traveling for two months and then laboring like stevedores to get here?”
Their guide flushed and pressed his lips together, and Penrys let her irritation with him help her keep a stern expression on her face, despite the wide eyes of Munraz, standing out of his sight behind him. “Your turn,” she told him, handing him the empty bucket. “The pump’s over there.”
After months of wearing her Ellech workroom clothing and its replacements, and then the shorter robes and comfortable bodice that the women of Zannib adopted from men’s clothing when riding, it was a challenge for Penrys to modify her stride and posture to accommodate the longer formal woman’s robe and the stiff bodice.
She was grateful for the light trousers and low boots that went with it, allowing the robe itself to be open down the front rather than confiningly closed. Her glimpse of some of the wealthier women, as the party returned on foot to the government district, made the drawbacks of the high-necked tight gowns they wore clear. They were lovely, elegant and somber, but with no thought of horses—not that they needed them, since they either walked or were conveyed by litter.
Najud and Munraz strolling at her side behind the guide had no cause for complaint. Their style of attire was unchanged, though the fabrics were new and vivid. The turbans were larger, too. *Is that an armed anah im-ghabr?*
Najud turned his head at her silent question and nodded. She’d told him about something she’d read in Ellech, where a fighting people who wore turbans had a practice of including a metal skull cap for protection within them, as well as small concealed weapons and tools. The idea was new to Najud, but he’d been fascinated by the possibilities, and one of his outfitting excursions in Qawrash im-Dhal had resulted in an array of interesting sharp and pointed objects strewn on his bed in the kazr.
She herself wore a thin belt under the bodice, to hold the fancy knife Najud had given her for occasions such as this, useless for serious defense. A much longer and more serious blade was fastened at an angle behind her back. If she was going to have a stiff back from the bodice, the posture was at least useful for a concealed weapon.
Najud and Munraz couldn’t wear the khash, the curved Zannib sword, openly here in the city, but she knew her husband had both visible and hidden knives, and she suspected Munraz of the same.
The quality of their clothing earned them a bit more space on the busy streets, but its foreign nature drew stares, more curious than hostile. It was obvious that the city-folk recognized their nationality, even if Penrys didn’t quite fit in, and Zannib was an ally and trading partner, not an enemy, but it was strange to stand out so obviously in such a crowded place, with nothing but Kigaliwen in all directions. It made her skin twitch.
Even in Ellech, where she’d been clearly a non-native, they were so used to visitors from many nations in the harbor at Nachempolek that one more, even at inland Tavnastok upriver, was much less a matter of interest. I don’t think they see many foreigners here, in the heart of Kigali.
She had a sudden vision of the immensity of the world, stretching out from this one point. Ellech was more than two thousand miles away from a harbor itself almost a thousand miles distant, and as far as she knew they were the only Zannib north of the river that bisected the fifteen hundred miles to the west, barring any ambassadorial staff maintained in Yenit Ping. Not a good place to try and hide in, not for us.
Her hand reached up involuntarily to touch her chain. Her instinct had been to wrap it in a scarf, but Najud had pointed out that it had to be why they’d been summoned. Better to display it proudly, he’d said.
He’s a clever man, my husband, and well-traveled, especially for a Zan, but I think he may have mis-estimated these people. The Tun Jeju she remembered was subtle and intelligent, and though he’d done them no real harm, she was wary of him. It hadn’t escaped her attention that it was not only his name on the caravan permits Najud carried, but also that of Menchos, an even scarier man in what seemed to be an analogous position for Rasesdad. The two of them, working together, would be formidable opponents, even if such an alliance between traditional enemies was unprecedented. And yet, there were the joint caravan permits Najud had received to attest to the partnership.
She smiled to herself. The permits declared they could be copied anywhere in Kigali, and Najud had taken the precaution to get copies made while in Tengwa Tep and place them into the hands of their friends to carry back into sarq-Zannib, just in case the originals were taken away again. This, in addition to the second official version of the originals that had arrived in clan Zamjilah’s winter camp from Ussha and would be put safely in charge of Rubti when she returned that way.
Despite Penrys’s suspicion, she knew Tun Jeju and Menchos would also make powerful
employers, if they were both involved in this summons, and the permits for a new western caravan were prepayment for an unknown task. Better wait until you know what they want before panicking.
CHAPTER 4
The largest avenue of the city ran directly through the center of the government district. To their right were the scroll-roofed temples and the temple schools occupying several blocks of buildings. Some fronted on the avenue, and some on the harbor side to their right, facing a long, green park looking out over the harbor itself.
Najud glimpsed the busy civilian traffic enjoying the pavilions and pleasure grounds, but it seemed to him that the open space was also well-sited as a parade ground for military or guard units. When’s the last time that happened?
The civic buildings were grouped to the left, serious and chaste, in contrast to the exuberance of the temples with their scrolled corners. This was the first time Najud had ever had occasion to enter one of these buildings. The city-folk he’d met steered clear of them as much as possible—nothing good ever came of going through those doors, they said. The most official notice he’d ever attracted before had come from introducing himself to the Zannib ambassador once, out of respect.
The headquarters of Imperial Security was not on the avenue itself, but around the first corner and halfway down the side street, on the east side. He squared his shoulders and followed Zep Pangwit up the slightly too high steps to the overlarge doors that dwarfed all who entered. “Say as little as possible, nal-jarghal,” he said, giving Munraz a firm look.
Penrys cast a worried glance at him and then wiped all expression off of her face and composed herself.
Najud translated the signs carved high above the entrance—Vigilance on behalf of the Emperor is Peace for the Nation—and grimaced. They were about to be tossed into the cesspool of Kigali politics with neither alliances nor knowledge to protect themselves. He fingered the lud he’d slipped into his pocket and touched the official documents that sent for him at his breast, and hoped for the best.
Once inside, he tried not to stare at the imposing two-story high atrium. Fully three-quarters of the open space was behind walls with barred windows, and when he looked more closely, the arrow slits in the upper walls were obvious. Access to the interior was well-guarded by half-armored men in dark brown, and the handful of people huddled on the benches in the section nearest the door, awaiting their turn, seemed appropriately cowed.
Zep Pangwit strode impatiently to a barred window near the interior entrance and spoke with whomever was there, out of Najud’s sight. Behind him, Najud heard the steady footsteps of Penrys and Munraz keeping pace with him and he led them, without looking back, to a place just behind their guide. The guards, a few paces away, did their best to ignore the presence of foreigners.
When Zep Pangwit turned around, he nodded in brief approval to find his charges there, suitably respectful. “We’re expected. A runner’s been sent to let them know we’re coming.”
He clutched two pieces of papyrus in his hand. One of these he presented to the first of the guards. “Entry for these foreigners. You may check for weapons and report, but do not remove them.”
That raised both the guard’s eyebrows and Najud’s, and the two of them eyed each other. Najud’s mouth quirked and he bowed. He displayed his visible belt-knife, lifted a sleeve to show another strapped to his left forearm, and then slowly reached through his right breeches pocket to the knife strapped against his leg. He replaced all of these blades under the guard’s impassive gaze, and then waved his hand negligently at his turban and pulled out a small pointed nail, implying there were perhaps other objects there.
The guard looked at the note again, and its signature chop. “Leave him his weapons? You’re sure?”
Zep Pangwit nodded. “By order of the notju.”
Najud stepped aside to watch how his companions fared. Penrys smiled at the guard and presented her small belt-knife, and then stood back and drew the blade under the back of her bodice with a flourish and offered it hilt-first to the guard’s view. Finally she lifted her left trouser leg to display the small knife strapped to her calf. “That’s it,” she told the guard.
Munraz was nervous, but he managed a bow. His only weaponry was the belt-knife and a small hand-axe, plain and in sight. When the guard cocked an eyebrow at the young man’s turban, Munraz just shook his head.
“They’re in your charge, binochi, but I’ll provide an escort for these armed foreigners,” the guard informed Zep Pangwit, and he passed them through the entrance with a burly and well-armed guard in their wake.
Zep Pangwit led them through the building as if he’d spent years there. For all Penrys knew, perhaps he had. Internal guard posts blocked off some portions from casual access, but Zep avoided those areas and took them confidently to the third floor. The travelers followed silently behind, and the footsteps of their escort in the rear resonated off the stone hallways.
There was little Penrys could see behind closed doors, and when she casually glanced at the minds behind them, all she could detect was the usual miscellaneous mix of humans, all of whom were native Kigali yat speakers. Beyond them were the thousands of minds of the city, in all directions except the harbor—it was as good as a compass for helping her keep track of where she was.
As they approached the northwest corner of the building, Zep stopped at a checkpoint. He showed his credentials one more time to the three men posted there, and scraped off his escort who turned on his heel to return to the ground floor as they passed through.
Another short corridor, and Zep knocked twice, then twice again on the closed door at the end of it. It was opened from within and swung back to allow entry.
Penrys squared her shoulders and followed Najud in, keeping an eye on Munraz to make sure of his readiness.
It was a large room, with the first external windows she’d seen since entering the building. Several people stood in clumps, and Penrys was distracted from her survey of the space when she recognized one group of bearded men as Ellech, and gray-haired Vylkar among them—her patron, the man who’d found her when she appeared, naked and empty of memory on a snowy hillside in Asuthgrata.
Despite her anxiety about the summons, she could feel the broad smile on her face as he looked up at the opening of the door and spotted her. He broke off his conversation and walked over to her. “I got your letter from Neshilik and it caused quite a stir.”
More quietly, he added, “And relieved my fear after you vanished so mysteriously that night.” He put his hands on her shoulder and shook her, lightly. “Have I taught you nothing about the right way to conduct experiments?”
“Sorry about that, bilappa, but it worked out for the best.” She turned to the impatient man beside her who was running a measuring eye over the older man. “This is my husband, Najud, of the Zamjilah clan. Najud, this is Vylkar—you’ve heard me speak of him.”
Najud nodded, and Vylkar smiled in satisfaction. “I thought it might end that way, from some of the things you wrote. At least you’re both wizards.”
A general silence fell upon the room, and Tun Jeju strolled up with Zep Pangwit who’d gone to report while Penrys was occupied. The notju’s thin, intelligent face put her on her guard.
Najud bowed in Kigali fashion with Penrys, and Munraz managed a clumsy imitation. “We’re here, notju-chi, as you requested,” Najud said. “The soonest we could come.”
“With additions, I see,” Tun Jeju replied, glancing at Munraz and raising an eyebrow.
“This is Munraz, our nal-jarghal,” Najud said. “Our apprentice. We couldn’t leave him behind.”
“Aren’t you young to be taking an apprentice, as I understand the Zannib customs?”
“Yes, but that’s a long story, notju-chi.”
“And we will hear it in its proper place.” Tun Jeju clapped his hands twice to draw the attention of all the people in the room.
“Our last participants have arrived. Some of you have traveled from long d
istances at the emperor’s request and have had to wait weeks impatiently while everyone else completed their journeys. I want to thank you all, on the emperor’s behalf, for coming to help address a crisis that affects not only Kigali, but several other nations as well.”
He gestured to a group of small tables clustered in the center of the room, surrounded by comfortable chairs. “Please, be seated. My colleagues of Imperial Security have information to share with you.”
The handful of men and women in dark brown robes moved immediately to their seats, grouped by nation, and Penrys could finally focus on some of the more exotic attendees who’d been blocked from her view.
There were no other Zannib there, but the party of three of the tall Ellech of which Vylkar was a member was matched by three of the short, dark Ndanum in their long, diagonally draped robes—an older woman and what seemed to be two attendants, a young woman and a middle-aged man. There were also two Rasesni, both unknown to Penrys. Munraz looked ill at ease among all the older foreigners, but Najud resolutely seated him at their table, to his left, with Penrys to his right.
Tun Jeju remained standing while servants circulated to provide water, wine, or bunnas, as requested. Once the servants had left and the door was closed, he began to speak.
“The Kigaliwen, as you know, are not a nation of wizards. Most of us would say that lupjuwen do not exist, and certainly no Kigalino could be one. All of you here who are foreigners must have been amused at our beliefs. The wizards of sarq-Zannib and Ellech are well known, and the mages of Rasesni. And who has not heard of the witches of Ndant?” He nodded to the Ndane woman as he spoke.
“While waiting for our last participants to arrive, I have shared with each of you the news of the recent events in Neshilik, where these two,” he waved at Najud and Penrys, “with the help of some of our Rasesni neighbors, stopped an attack by a rogue wizard who had carved his way through Rasesni and entered Kigali.”
