Sanctuary dj-3

by Mercedes Lackey

  “But Tians will never accept an Altan leader,” began Baket-ke-aput, his brow clouding. “There have been only two Queens who ruled in all of our history, and even then they ruled as Regents for their infant sons!”

  Kaleth held up his hand. “We did not say she was to rule alone. In Alta, that would be unthinkable anyway. We are no longer to be ruled by the Sacred Twins, I think, but—” And now he looked at Ari, “—there is a logical partner for Nofret who would be accepted by the Altans. And that is you, Ari.”

  Ari started visibly. He had not been expecting this! But then, by the murmurs, neither had anyone else. “I cannot see why—” Ari began.

  “Only because you are far too modest. If I recall correctly, it is you, Ari, who more often than most, has the best ideas.” Kaleth lifted his right shoulder in a kind of shrug. “Ask anyone, and they will tell you. It is you who is the likeliest to devise solutions to problems quickly. But most important of all, you are a peace-maker. It is you who most often can take people who are quarreling and bring them to work together.”

  “Oh, no—” Ari objected, shaking his head. “It is you, Kaleth, who does all that and more!”

  “But only when under the hand of the gods! When I am myself, I am no better at it than—than Gan!” Kaleth replied, causing those who knew Gan well to laugh. Then his expression darkened, and grew serious. “Besides, no man can serve at two tables. The gods demand my time, and our history tells ill tales about those who thought to hold power over men while the gods demanded their own kind of service.”

  “It says worse of those who styled themselves as Priest-Kings,” Heklatis put in dryly. “Or those who claimed to rule in the name of the gods. The temptation is to say that what you want and what the gods want is one and the same, and it is difficult for ordinary folk to prove otherwise.”

  “As always, your tongue delivers wisdom as well as stings, Healer,” Kaleth said, nodding. “To be brief, then: I will not deny the gods what they will of me.”

  Marit placed a hand on his shoulder; she said nothing, but her expression spoke as loudly as any words. No more shall I.

  “I,” said Lord Ya-tiren, “would not be accepted by Tians, nor, more importantly, by Nofret. And, most importantly of all, the First Lady of my house would strip my skin from my flesh with her words if I were to try so foolish a thing.”

  That brought another bit of laughter from those who knew the lady in question. Sweet-natured as Lord Ya-tiren’s wife was, she also had a dangerous tongue when she was angered. And there was little doubt how she would react to the notion of her husband attempting to take a wife young enough to be his daughter, she who had never permitted a Second Wife to enter the household. “I am pleased and happy to handle administrative tasks,” he finished, “but I know where my abilities best lie.”

  “And I,” said Lord Khumun, “am, and always will be, a soldier. Ask me strategy, tell me that tactics are needed, and you will have all you desire. But outside that—” He shrugged. “And even less am I, a soldier of the Altans, like to be accepted by Tians.”

  “I do not know how much you know of the ways of our people and their rulers,” Lord Ya-tiren said to the Tian priests. “In our tradition, the male twins of royal blood who marry the female twins of royal blood can be made Kings. And unless I am very much mistaken, in the Tian tradition, the man of the appropriate bloodline who marries the royal daughter can be made King. Is this correct?”

  Baket-ke-aput nodded. “Entirely. And—” he added, with a lifted brow, “—there is a saying among our people that the man who least wishes to be King, is the man who is like to be the best suited. Still—”

  “Then by all qualifications, Ari is the only choice for all of us,” Kaleth replied, “since he is Tian and will be accepted by Tians and I will not divorce my Marit to free her for some other husband.” Marit still had her hand on Kaleth’s shoulder, and he covered it with one of his own. “My beloved, who has the secrets of her sister’s heart poured daily into her ear, tells me that Nofret does not find Ari distasteful.”

  “Ah, but Ari is a commoner,” Ari objected—

  Except that when he said those words, he did not sound at all certain. In fact, he sounded like a man who was telling a lie. And Kiron’s ears pricked up at that.

  Kaleth drew himself up and stared at Ari, putting on that invisible mantle of dignity that transformed him into someone Kiron felt impelled to bow to. The back of his neck prickled a little. Kaleth knew something. And it had not come from the mouths of men. Furthermore, he was about to say something—or perhaps it was more appropriate to say, Someone was about to speak through him.

  “I believe, Ari-en-anethet,” said Kaleth, in a voice that seemed to echo in the overcrowded room, “that it is time and more than time that you told the truth about your birth.”

  The reaction of the Tian priests to that voice was altogether satisfactory from an Altan point of view. They looked very much as if they were going to throw themselves on their faces, and only the fact that no one else was doing so kept them still seated. At the back of the room, the few acolytes who were still here had thrown themselves prostrate.

  So these Tians do recognize the Voice of the Gods when they hear it. That made Kiron feel a good bit better. It meant that the priests knew now what Power was holding the reins here, however lightly those reins were being held. And when their fellow countrymen showed up, the priests would take care of whatever “enforcement” of the laws and ways of Sanctuary needed to be done. It was one thing to claim to speak for the gods, but when you could demonstrate the fact, well, that was another bundle of reeds altogether.

  But others here had paid more attention to the words than the tone or the way in which the words were delivered. “Your birth?” Haraket looked from Kaleth to Ari, his face screwed up in puzzlement. “What about his birth? He’s the son of a scribe—”

  “He is the nephew of a scribe,” Kaleth corrected, in a voice that no longer echoed. “His mother was a Temple of Senet handmaiden. Which was where his father came upon her and came to love her.”

  Sharp glances among the Tian priests, and some whispers among the oldest. So. There was something about this that was calling to mind things that they knew.

  “My father was a simple soldier,” Ari said stubbornly.

  Kaleth laughed. “Your father was a soldier, yes, but hardly ‘simple,’ and well you know it. Ari, the gods have shown me your life laid out as an open scroll. Let your tongue at last tell the truth. It is the answer to how to unite our people, and though it is not the only answer to that conundrum, it is the best one.”

  Ari looked as stressed as Kiron had ever seen him, as if he both loathed what he was about to say, and had longed to say it aloud all his life. “It is—it is nothing I wished anyone to know. Ever!” he managed. “It is an accident of birth! It is not meritorious and not ignoble either, but it is no recommendation to be made a leader! Kings should be made of more than bloodlines! This is—”

  “Vital,” Kaleth said firmly. “To the common man, it is the hand of the gods. Perhaps blood does not make a king, but having a noble bloodline does not make him less of one. You have the skills. Now tell.”

  Ari hung his head. “My father,” he said, to the hands lying clenched in his lap, “Was—is—the King’s brother, the Royal Commander of the Armies of Tia.”

  Baket-ke-aput looked absolutely thunderstruck. So, in fact, did every other Tian. It was Baket-ke-aput who recovered first and said, falteringly, “Then Ari-en-anethet, Jouster of Tia and Sanctuary, would be—acceptable to the priesthood and the people of Tia as a coruler with the Noble Maiden Nofret. If he is acceptable to the Noble Maiden.”

  Nofret’s expression was sober, but her voice was firm. “He is acceptable.”

  “Just one moment.” Ari stood up. Kiron had never seen him so tense in all the time he had known the senior Jouster. He practically vibrated. It’s a good thing that Kashet isn’t here, or Ari’s nerves would have that poor dragon looking
for something or someone to attack. “Nofret, no matter what these people want, I will not take a wife who is coming to me out of a sense of duty!”

  Nofret regarded him gravely. “Jouster Ari,” she said, with great dignity. “All my life I have known that I must wed out of duty. To have a husband who is pleasant, kind, and a—” she hesitated, “—a friend, a very dear friend, is more than I expected.”

  Ari shook his head, stubbornly. “Maybe you have been trained to think that is the right and proper way to do things, but I have not. Thank you for saying that I am pleasant and kind and a friend, but I—I require more.”

  He turned to Kaleth. “The Lady Nofret has no other kin here but you and her sister, Mouth of the Gods,” he said with great formality, before anyone, even Nofret, could respond. “Therefore, I beg your leave to court her and win her love as well as her regard.”

  Baket-ke-aput was dumbstruck. Nofret looked first shocked, then puzzled, then, slowly, her eyes glowed with warmth and pleasure.

  Kaleth did not so much as lift a corner of his mouth, even though Ari was almost old enough to be his father. “You have my leave,” he said gravely.

  “And mine,” said Marit, just as gravely, though the twinkle in her eye and the furtive flush on Nofret’s cheeks suggested that Ari already was well on the way to having that love. Assuming he didn’t have it already. Maybe Kiron wasn’t very old, but there was one thing he did know, and that was that there was no telling what a female would think.

  “And you will not pressure her into a decision!” Ari continued. He sounded desperate, but Kiron didn’t think he was looking for an excuse not to wed Nofret. On the contrary. He wanted her desperately. He meant exactly what he said; he didn’t want a co-ruler, he wanted a wife and a partner.

  Kiron took another glance at Nofret. If he was any good at reading expressions, she didn’t think Ari was looking for any excuses either.

  “By no means,” said Kaleth, before anyone else could speak. “After all, there is time yet before so many people come to Sanctuary that we will need a King and Queen. Take whatever time you need. Unless Nofret objects?” he raised an eyebrow in her direction.

  Nofret blushed a deeper crimson, but smiled. “What lady ever objects to being courted? Any who would must be mad.”

  Baket-ke-aput looked as astonished as if a camel had spoken to him—but then, in Tia, while women were held in high regard, young women were accustomed to obeying fathers and elder brothers until the day they had a household of their own.

  Baket-ke-aput might as well get used to this change in “the way things were.” Kiron knew very well what would happen when Tian girls saw how much freedom Altan girls enjoyed.

  “Until then, however,” Kaleth continued. “You must needs be on this council. That, I require. I want your skills and your knowledge of your fellow countrymen. Sit, please, Ari.”

  Ari did.

  People obey him as if he were as old as Lord Ya-tiren. Kaleth, it seemed, was acquiring a little something in the way of personal authority each time the gods spoke through him, and it wasn’t the sort of thing that wore off. “And now—let me beg of you all a little time.”

  Kiron sensed an abrupt change in subject—and he wasn’t mistaken.

  “Time,” Kaleth repeated, “and attention. I wish to spread before you the lines of the possible futures we face, as I have seen them.”

  Kiron leaned forward at the words. That Kaleth had seen a future for this place—more than one, actually—was without a doubt. But he had not yet shared that vision with anyone.

  Kaleth drew a deep breath and turned to the Tians. “Forgive me, Priests of Tia, if I repeat what you already know. Among our people, the ways of those who are Winged are not well known, and I must begin with an explanation.”

  Baket-ke-aput nodded gravely. “Even among us, the Eye that sees ahead in time is rare. Please go on as you will.”

  “The future is like Great Mother River entering the delta,” Kaleth said gravely, looking into the eyes of each of them in turn. “It is not a single straight path. It bends and curves, breaks into daughters, and each of the daughters wanders on. Some merge again, some fade to nothing. And I—I am a dragon flying above at dawn, and have only glimpses of what is below as the morning mist chooses to part, or clings stubbornly to land and water. The nearer we are in time to what I see, the clearer it is—but the nearer we are, the more difficult it is to find ways to change what I can See.”

  “I have heard something similar from the priestesses who tend the Mirror of At-thera,” said Baket-ke-aput. “Save only that they have never, in my lifetime, Seen far enough ahead in time to do more than give warning.” He looked at Kaleth with increased respect.

  Kaleth acknowledged the admiration with a nod. “We have come to a point where that branching begins, and I cannot always tell what decision will put us on a beneficial path—nor can I always control what will put us there. And I have seen many endings to our story.” His face darkened. “Some, I will not speak of. But there is one ending that I greatly desire, and in it, the Two Lands are—not one, but bound, as husband and wife are bound, partners in all respects. In that future, the King and Queen rule from a new city on the river, equally distant from Mefis and what you call Bato, and we call Alta City. Sanctuary is become the city of the Gods of Alta and Tia together in harmony, the symbol of the joining of the Two Lands, and the Jousters are its protectors. It serves also as the way point for a rich caravan route, bringing wealth to the gods from trade, and not from taking it out of the hands of the people. No longer at odds with one another, the task of Altan and Tian Jousters alike is to guard those who dwell in Sanctuary, to make the caravan route across the desert safe to travel, and to watch the borders.” Kaleth’s eyes shone with enthusiasm, and the reflection of his dream. “In that vision, all Priests of Alta and Tia come to Sanctuary to be trained, and the aged and most wise come here to impart their wisdom. Sanctuary is a place of peace, where enemies learn to become friends, and ways are found to heal old wounds and make new dreams grow.”

  Kiron caught his breath at that vision, and he was not the only one. What a dream! If only it could come to pass. . . .

  “That is the vision I desire you to hold in your hearts, and give to the people as a goal,” Kaleth went on. “Would I could tell you how it is that we will come to that place, but that is the end I hope you will strive for.” Now he looked deeply into Baket-ke-aput’s eyes.

  This is the one he has to win over. The Senior Priest, perhaps the High Priest. He’s had power in his hands. When Tians come here, he’ll have it again. Will he barter some of that power to Kaleth for a piece of Kaleth’s vision?

  “You have us, Mouth of the Gods,” Baket-ke-aput said, slowly, and then to Kiron’s complete astonishment, the priest bowed. Not the bow of equal to equal; he abased himself, as he would have at the altar of a god. The only thing he did not do was to lift up Kaleth’s foot and place it on his own head in token of complete abasement, and Kiron had the feeling he had actually considered doing even that. After a moment of shock, so did every single one of his followers bow, down to the acolytes who stopped hovering at the edges of things, trying to pretend they were busy so they could listen. They, too, dropped what they were doing to throw themselves on the ground.

  Kaleth rose, paced slowly to where Baket-ke-aput was stretched out, and touched his shoulder. “I do not need minions, holy one of Tia,” he said quietly. “I need—Sanctuary needs—partners. Friends who share the work and the dream.”

  Baket-ke-aput rose also, and once again, he and Kaleth clasped arms. “Those, you have. I swear it. For myself, and for these.”

  “Then that is all I can ask.” With a radiant smile, Kaleth went back to his seat. “Now,” he continued, looking around again, “There is the little matter of where we are to put all of you. . . .”

  SEVEN

  THE acolytes of the various Tian gods were surprisingly willing to help with the work on the new dragon pens. Not that acoly
tes of any sort weren’t used to working hard, but they were generally not accustomed to the kinds of labor that might be termed “common.” Nevertheless, they turned their hands to it, fitting stones into place, making cement to hold them together, although the task of trimming them to fit was left to Lord Ya-tiren’s experienced stonemason. But perhaps that was because the four buildings surrounding the original pen were destined to become temple quarters for them all once the Jousters moved; at the moment, the priests and acolytes of the entire Tian party were all crowded very closely together in Kaleth’s Temple to All Gods, sleeping with scarcely a place to put a foot between them, and it could not be comfortable for any of them. At any rate, with their help, and the help of some of Lord Ya-tiren’s people, the conversion occurred within a few days. The original doors—which fortunately had no lintels anymore, if they ever had possessed such a thing—were bricked halfway up, and the walls raised, so that a real sand wallow could be made deep enough for a dragon to dig him- or herself in.

  Then, before the sand was brought in, a walkway was constructed around the periphery of each pen, just as the pens in Alta and Tia had been constructed, with a wider platform at the rear. Last of all, copying the pens in Alta so that the riders could live with their dragons, a single-roomed shelter was built on that platform at the back of the pen, and a water trough where a dragon could drink.

  Since Kiron had been put in charge of the new Jousters, there was one thing he had made very clear. Everyone, including Ari, had agreed with him.

  No Jouster would ever live apart from his dragon again.

  Jousters were going to change; it was time for that change to begin. They would no longer live as lesser nobles, not that they’d be able to under the current conditions anyway! They would be housed in conditions no better, and no worse, than any officer in the Tian or Altan armies.

  Jousters would still be like no one else, and part of that difference would be signaled by other ways in which they lived besides the bare fact of their housing.