Southern Fire ac-1

by Juliet E. McKenna

  The Lesser Moon joined the Ruby in that same arc and the Greater Moon stood to one side in the arc of self. It was waning and the Sailfish was swimming in that same sweep of the heavens, so often a sign of good fortune and advantage. Not here, with those stars below the unseen horizon. The Opal, symbolic gem for the Greater Moon and signifier of truth, reinforced the message.

  Your power is declining, your liberty restricted, your luck not to be trusted. Seek conciliation.

  But what of the Lesser Moon, heavenly counterpart to the Pearl, source of all the Daish domain's wealth, even if it was in the arc of enmity? The Lesser Moon was waxing. Didn't that mean intimate strength returning to the Daish islands, just as the Ruby indicated a decline? Kheda placed another lilla seed in the arc of Friendship, of help and alliance, for the heavenly Topaz. Marking the turn of the years as it did, the Topaz was the most potent of guides, promoting new friendships and inspiration. At present, it was backed by the Spear, commanding sign of male vigour, and strength in battle. With the Greater Moon, it bracketed the Ruby, confining it within the arc of enmity.

  Your power may be slight at present but stay strong and others will come to your aid. Stay alert and look for new ideas.

  What of the heavenly Amethyst and Diamond? Kheda shivered again. Amethyst, jewel of calm and humility would ride below the horizon in the arc of death where the stars of the Net were spread, sign of capture and restraint. Did that mean he was destined to die in this prison? What else could the Amethyst mean? It was a talisman against intoxication in all its forms, from simple liquor to the arrogance of power. He frowned at faint recollection of an intense conversation with Daish Reik.

  'The Net is a sign that can mean good and bad at one and the same time. Capture is an ill fate for the fish but a full net gives the fisherman's children full bellies. Make sure you always see all facets of an omen. The Net is one of those signs that a warlord must always take special heed of. A hunter's net subdues a wild beast, be it jungle cat or rampaging water ox. The Net is a guide if ever you are faced with a great commotion in your domain, some disaster bringing chaos in its wake.'

  Kheda swallowed hard. Nothing could bring more chaos than magic. Though death had many facets, that much was certain. It could stem from unfulfilled wants or could be the only means of satisfying a need, bringing an inheritance, material or otherwise.

  Is this a warning that your death might he the price of saving your people? But you are dead, as far as anyone but Janne knows. Is this in fact a favourable portent, showing that feigned death will indeed lead you to the means of subduing the invader's magic?

  As he caught his breath on this new idea, he realised the Amethyst was set in a straight line across the heavenly compass from the Topaz. The Diamond hung directly beneath, in the arc of sky significant for children. The starry curve of the Bowl was there as well, symbol of nourishment, of love and security. The Diamond was the strongest of all talismans against corruption, against evil, key gem for rulers, promoting clarity of purpose and faithfulness to a cause.

  That must be a sign for Sirket, that my son is meeting the demands laid upon him by my feigned death.

  With these jewels forming three corners of a square, there had to be some significance in the last quartile. Kheda found his hand shaking as he set down one last lilla seed. The Sapphire was in the last corner. Slowest, most mysterious of all the heavenly jewels, moving from arc to arc only in every seventh year. Emblem of the future, of wisdom and of truth. It was in the arc of wealth at present and that encompassed so much more than mere possessions. A domain's wealth was its people just as a man's true wealth was his family. The Hoe would be the stars in that arc, even though they would be hidden beneath the horizon at this season. The Hoe was another symbol of male strength but of building and the benefits of working in unity rather than attainment through battle.

  These four jewels link your past, present and future without a doubt. There's a promise of rebuilding here, of regaining what you have lost. That could be your future, if you can somehow see your path until those stars are brought above the horizon.

  Kheda squared his shoulders. As he did so, the rain-stiffened leather thong caught at the back of his neck. He lifted the twist of ivory over his head. It was warm in his hands, firm yet still somehow soft, a paradox just like the horned fish that had borne it, a creature of the sea yet warm-blooded, red blood in its veins, a beast that bore live young and suckled them. His fingers traced the scales he had shaped into the creamy ivory, fading into a sharp terminal spike.

  A dragon's tail, favourite device of augurs, symbolising the hidden and unforeseen. That's what it looked like to me, so that's what I carved, just like Daish Reik had always taught me. It seemed a minor omen, prompting me to play the soothsayer. How many itinerant fortune-tellers know the full complexity of the lore underpinning that belief? Not many, and those that do will keep silent about it, if they value their hides.

  He set the ivory down on his fading circle, the spiral luminous in the dim light. It was each moon that marked a dragon's head, in this ancient and seldom looked-for reading of the heavens. The Greater Moon first, that was how it was done, according to the faded parchment stored in the recesses of the Daish observatory library, smeared and stained, crabbed writing blurred where mould had been scraped from the kid skin. Kheda recalled his incredulity when Daish Reik had first guided him through the words.

  'The Opal is talisman against the dragons of earth and fire. As the Greater Moon holds the foul beast's attention, it looks away from that which is behind it. Just so, the Pearl is talisman against the dragons of air and water, the Lesser Moon drawing the monster's eye and leaving it oblivious to what might approach from the rear. Therein may he your opportunity, in times of trial!

  Dragons. Beasts of magic, embodiment of the chaos wrought by all sorceries and enchantment Could this archaic reading show him something with a bearing on his quest to defeat the magic afflicting his people?

  Opposite the arc of self, where the Greater Moon rode, was that reach of the heavens where portents spoke of a person's dealings, for good or ill, with other individuals, marriage above all else. Kheda shook his head in silent bafflement. The Sea Serpent would be the stars in that part of the sky, emblem of the mysterious, of darkness and unseen forces.

  What of the other dragon? He moved the ivory twist to mark the arc of the compass devoted to daily duty and physical health where the Vizail Blossom bloomed opposite the Lesser Moon. But that was a constellation almost exclusively tied to feminine concerns. Wouldn't this just mean Janne and Rekha were fulfilling their usual obligations, despite the threats surrounding them? He'd never doubted that. Inspiration failed him and another recollection brought his father's words out of the darkness.

  'It's a warlord's duty to watch the skies, to watch the birds of the air, wild beasts and tamed, to seek out every omen and portent that might have a bearing on his people's future. You must read and learn all you can from the records all our forefathers have kept and trade your choicest and most potent talisman gems for copies of such records from other domains. Never grow so arrogant that you dismiss anyone else's learning but rather seek out all such lore with a humble, open mind.'

  Then Daish Reik had laughed and clapped Kheda on the shoulder, brushing into oblivion the pattern of both earthly and heavenly compasses that he had so painstakingly drawn in the sand to illustrate some earlier point.

  'On the other hand, if you spend too much of your time with your head in a book or your face turned to the skies, you'll miss what's going on around you. If you've done either long enough to get a crick in your neck, you've been at it too long. Chasing meanings and interpretations can just leave you as giddy and useless as a hound that's been chasing its tail. Learn when to stop looking. The significance of past and future is only to serve the present and it is your people in the here and now that are your main responsibility.'

  The only person whose life you can influence at the moment is yourself. What can
you do? Try getting a good night's sleep, so you're as fresh as possible for whatever trials arrive with the dawn.

  Kheda swept the seeds away into the darkness, picked up the ivory dragon's tail and hung it around his neck once more. He moved away from the grille with its persistent draught and wondered how best to settle himself on the unyielding stone. Finding his way to the corner closest to the door, he sat with his back in the angle of the two walls. He drew up his knees, feet flat to the floor and folded his hands in his lap. Leaning a little, he could rest his head against the wall and he resolutely closed his eyes.

  It's not going to be easy to sleep in here, so what will make for a distraction from these discomforts? Calculating the paths of the heavenly jewels, that's worth trying. Where will the others be, when the Ruby is next in conjunction with the Yora Hawk?

  Chapter Fourteen

  There's nothing to be done about it. Admit it, you're awake. Still, scant sleep's better than nothing.

  Kheda opened his eyes, got to his feet and began pacing back and forth from cell door to window, stretching the stiffness out of his legs and back. That scrap of sky paling above him, he listened to the distant sounds of the rousing fortress. A handful of shadows passed the grille, sentries' feet slowing towards a brief meal and then the sleep they'd been warding off all night. Others went in the opposite direction, pace quickening, low voices bright with greeting. Kheda could hear speculation about something in their tone.

  I doubt they're discussing the weather.

  A voice replied to an unheard question. 'He'll get what's coming to him and never you mind. You check the roster of ships due and departed.'

  Any further discussion was lost beneath the sound of sandalled footsteps. The rattle of keys heralded whoever had been sent to fetch him out of this hole. Kheda stood below the grille as the lock snicked and the door swung open. The same jailer as before stood on the threshold, lantern raised to see where the prisoner might be before risking the cell.

  His nose wrinkled with distaste as he took in the early-morning consequences of the overripe lilla fruit. Careful to avoid that corner of the cell, he tossed a plain cotton tunic and trousers on to the floor. The draught scattered the dry lilla seeds in all directions. 'Clean and dress yourself.' He stepped back to allow a younger man to enter with a bowl and ewer of water.

  'Thank you.' Kheda couldn't quite hide his surprise. Stripping off his foul rags, he tore the cleanest patch from the tunic to use as a washcloth. More surprises followed. The water in the ewer was warm and a small vial of liquid soap sat in the bottom of the bowl. Even without the chance to wash his hair and beard, this was still a vast improvement on sluicing himself in the sea. Seeing the jailer raise a quizzical brow at him, he concluded his ablutions. Deciding against trying to dry himself with the foetid remnants of his tunic Kheda dragged the clean clothes over his damp body and walked through the door, head held high.

  'No nonsense now,' said the jailer perfunctorily as they climbed the steps to the inner courtyard.

  We both know there won't be. I don't suppose you're unhandy with those gem-studded swords you're wearing today and even if you were, you should be able to hold your own against a defenceless beggar.

  Then his step faltered as the old familiarity of an armed man walking one pace behind tripped him with a treacherous memory.

  Are you recovered, Telouet, and guarding my son?

  'Open up.' The jailer called ahead to a younger man guarding the gate. 'On you go.' He sounded a little impatient, pushing Kheda from behind.

  I don't suppose one question can worsen my predicament.

  He turned to his captor. 'Where are we going?'

  The man's smile showed gapped teeth in the grey of his beard. 'My lord wishes to see you.' He spoke with all the courtesy of a respectful retainer greeting a privileged guest.

  Kheda looked again at the man's swords. Braided with silken cord to ensure a solid grip, the end of the matched hilts were golden hawks' heads with emeralds for eyes; not talisman gems but still imbued with the same virtues of heroism and fidelity.

  'I am mindful of the honour he does me,' Kheda replied with a deliberate suggestion of the authority he'd thought left dead behind him.

  What do you say to that?

  'Then let's do my lord the honour of not keeping him waiting.' His jailer's mouth quirked with a sardonic grin though there wasn't so much as a twitch in his shoulders to suggest the bow that any privileged guest would expect.

  I don't think I have anything prudent to say to that.

  Kheda obediently walked up the slow curve of the path leading towards the upper compound. He lifted his chin, ignoring the mildly curious glances of those Shek islanders already up and about their dawn chores. At first the path seemed endless; the ominous black gates staying as far away as ever with every step. Then all too soon, the forbidding grey wall of stone loomed over him, barely a shade darker than the cloud-filled sky above. Beneath the shadow of the fortress, the morning cool was enough to make him shiver.

  'Open in the name of Shek Kul!' His captor looked up at the mighty watchtower, hands braced on his sword hilts.

  Kheda clenched every muscle in his body to quell a bone-deep tremor that threatened to shake his resolve to pieces. A distant rumble of thunder did nothing to help.

  A warning. For good or ill? What arc of the compass did that come from? What other omens might be rising in whatever quarter of the sky I should be looking at?

  A thin-faced man with circumspect eyes opened the smaller door set into the implacable iron-bound wood. 'Be welcome in the house of Shek Kul.'

  Kheda acknowledged him with a nod somewhere between a warlord's condescension and a suppliant's gratitude before stepping through the gate.

  You're no common guard either, not wearing that finery. Whose body slave are you?

  The swordsman standing watchful in the shadow of the tower wore finely wrought chainmail polished to a high sheen and belted with a wide leather strap all but invisible beneath its silver-mounted gems and the four daggers sheathed across his belly. Each had the serpentine blade that was so prevalent in these domains and a pommel of opaque green stone evidently carved by the same hand into a different animal's head: jungle cat, water ox, hook-toothed hog and loal. Swords of equal magnificence hung on either hip.

  The man stood, waiting for Kheda to finish his candid examination, expression faintly bored. 'This way.'

  Silent and any curiosity well hidden, the lesser guards around the gate and along the inner walk of the wall watched them go. Kheda followed the impressively weaponed body slave and his jailer fell into place behind, matching his every step. They passed the single-storeyed dwellings that lined the compound's walls, for Shek Kul's slaves and his household servants. Strange yet familiar scents and sounds all around him, a curious calm came over Kheda.

  Quarters more extensive and more luxurious than anything Daish retainers can boast, though the bustle over breakfast and murmur over the day's prospects seem much the same. Are they wondering what Shek Kul wants with you; nondescript palm reader brought before such a mighty lord? Presumably he's not to hang you out of hand; he could have done that any time since you were seized. That good fortune will suffice for the moment. Though I wonder how far this courteous jailer's patience will stretch.

  Kheda slowed slightly, taking his time to look around Shek Kul's extensive gardens, lavishly planted with carefully nurtured bushes and trees. Kheda recognised redlance, firefew and all three varieties of penala. None of the shrubs had so much as a twig out of place, not a leaf marring the smoothly raked perfection of the rich black earth beneath them. The paths between the beds were pale in contrast, lined with creamy pebbles brought from some distant beach. They reached a fork and the turn the well-armoured slave took led past an airy aviary of gilded lilla wood. Tiny brown vira finches scuffed and squabbled in the dust and Kheda slowed still more, watching for as long as he could though none of the birds were doing anything that might conceivably indicate
an omen.

  Ahead, the slave preceding him had slowed too, never looking back but plainly attuned to the pace of whoever was following him.

  A very well-trained body slave.

  The man behind him coughed meaningfully and Kheda's smile faded. They took another path past the wide white bowl of a fountain with a marble canthira tree glistening at its heart. The central keep of the compound lay ahead, each floor marked by serried rows of shuttered windows.

  The heart of Shek Kul's power, the fortress where his might is supported by the guile and subtlety of his wives, where their children grow in understanding of their inheritance and all that comes with it.

  Kheda braced himself and was promptly wrong-footed when the slave ahead took an abrupt turn to skirt the solid square. Beyond, the gardens stretched out in artless curves and delightful arbours refreshed by the kiss of the rain and blooming in a riot of grateful colours. The scene had been masterfully designed to soothe and enchant, though the slave seemed oblivious to its charms, heading for a long and lofty building set in a sea of white pebbles. Kheda's throat tightened, blood racing in his veins.

  The well-armoured slave opened the door and stood aside to let Kheda precede him. With his erstwhile jailer at his heels, he went inside. The slave pulled the door closed and stood in front of it, hands thrust through his belt.

  You won't be leaving unless that mans own lord gives him the word.

  The older slave, his jailer, swept past Kheda without a backward glance. He strode down the central aisle of the great, empty hall, measured tread on the polished black marble echoing back from the walls. Swirls of green stone marked his path, ending in a complex, interlaced circle below a dais of three broad steps. The slave climbed the steps to stand beside a throne of black wood inlaid with silver and patterned with a criss-crossing lattice of green stones and diamonds.