by Victor Poole
"Tree had been inhabited by his wife," Ocher said, glancing at Clare. Ajalia was sure that Ocher was worried that he was going to scare away his soon-to-be-wife with such talk, but Clare was standing with perfect composure, being quite as invisible and tactful as Ajalia often was. Ajalia told herself that Clare had taken what she had said to heart, about studying her, and being a shadow of herself. Ajalia had meant to train Clare up as a face-bearing slave, ready to take up her place at Ajalia's master's side, if that Eastern man ever made it to Slavithe. Ajalia had no intention of serving as face-bearing slave for her master any longer; she had begun to form ideas about Delmar that were quite permanent and domestic, and none of these ideas included the distinctive black hair, and elaborate face paint that the position of face-bearing slave entailed. Ajalia had not meant for Clare to become such a suitable mate for Ocher, but, she reflected, it was quite a happy outcome. Barat, she reminded herself, had now begun the journey back towards the East, and Ajalia was sure that Barat would find a way to become the face-bearing slave for their master, once he had returned in triumph, bringing with him the spoils of their trades with the Eastern silks.
"When a man is taken over by a witch," Ocher went on, "his white brand is consumed. He becomes," Ocher said slowly, "attached to the sensation of being drained."
"So Tree was partially eaten by his wife," Ajalia said, "and when he killed her, he saved some other witches alive, so that they could eat him instead."
"Most likely, yes," Ocher said, "I think this is why he kept witches secretly in the city."
"But to be the Thief Lord," Ajalia prompted, "he had to have the white brand."
"It is not technically required," Ocher said, "but his not having one made it awkward for those who could sense the magic."
"Everyone else who had a brand," Ajalia said, "could tell that he'd lost his."
"Yes," Ocher said. Leed, who had promised to interrupt the discussion, was glancing now at Ajalia from across the great hall with some impatience. She watched Leed's irritated expression, and listened to what Ocher said. "I sponsored the Thief Lord, Tree," Ocher said, "in exchange for my position in the government. We did not know then," he added quickly, "why Tree's brand never grew back. It should have come back, but it never did."
"He borrowed your brand," Ajalia said.
"And my power, yes," Ocher said.
"What do you mean?" Ajalia asked. Ocher glanced again at Clare, whose face was like the still surface of a lake.
"With sponsorship comes shared power," Ocher said. "This is why people will not suspect you of being a witch," he added, "because they know that Delmar carries the brand, and many believe he is the dead falcon."
"So he inherits power," Ajalia said.
"Theoretically, yes," Ocher said. "It is not common," he added, "to sponsor a woman."
"Is that why they called me the sky angel?" Ajalia asked.
"I don't believe in the sky angel, myself," Ocher said, "but yes, that is what they thought." Ajalia folded her arms, and thought of Sharo, and of the girl's persistent idea of being a sky angel.
"Is there more than one sky angel?" Ajalia asked. Ocher laughed, and even Clare's face broke into a smile.
"No," Ocher said. He did not say anymore, but Ajalia told herself to ask Leed later about this sky angel business. Leed, she thought, would be able to be relied upon to give her a straight answer.
"I have one last question," Ajalia said, and she was acutely aware of the drifting rays of the lowering sun, and of the time that she had kept Ocher standing in the hall. "I'm sorry for taking so long," Ajalia told Ocher, but Ocher smiled at her like a boy.
"I don't mind," he said, and he looked at Clare. Clare met his eyes, looking quite pleased with herself, and Ajalia stuffed away a smile.
"Why was Tree still in power, and how did Simon become the Thief Lord, if Tree was still alive, and capable?" Ajalia asked. Ocher's face smoothed out a little. He looked impressed.
"You ask pertinent questions," he told her, and she smiled.
"Thanks," she said, and waited. Ocher almost began to frown at her, but then he smiled.
"I suppose," he said, "that I will give up playing games with you."
"Have you been playing games?" Ajalia asked, interested.
"I have been trying to keep you from feeling quite at home in Slavithe," Ocher confessed. He glanced at Clare again, and then looked a little ashamed of himself. "I thought it would make you a little more receptive," he said.
"Well, what is the answer to my pertinent question?" Ajalia asked, and Ocher laughed at her.
"You do not give up," he said.
"No, I do not," she said. Ocher took a breath.
"Well, Tree was a bit of an embarrassment," Ocher said. "He had just killed his wife, and the people were in an uproar. New marriages had been restricted for some time, because of the witches, and when Tree killed his wife, he passed the edict against marriage for any woman in debt, and dissolved all marriages where the wife did not have her own substance. Simon had been sold over the sea by his father the king, as punishment for his disobedience, and Tree brought Simon back into Slavithe in an improper fashion."
"What do you mean?" Ajalia asked.
"Simon was still a slave," Ocher said. "He was paid for, but Tree never freed him. For Tree to hold a public marriage for his own daughter to a known slave, and a disgraced prince from Talbos . . . it was a nightmare, politically," Ocher said. "The situation within the city improved for a time after that, and Simon was able to clear out many of the witches, with Tree's help. There was a new heir, in Delmar, and no one wanted Tree to rule anymore. It was strained. Simon seemed better than nothing, and Lilleth was too—well, herself, to rule. Everyone's tried to live with Simon for years, but he's—well," Ocher said with an uncomfortable laugh, "you spoke to him yourself."
"He was a deceitful, disrespectful, disgusting shred of a man," Ajalia said forcefully. Ocher smiled, and chuckled.
"Yes," he said. "And he was very unpopular. Tree agreed to share power, and then he went into hiding in his apartment. He came out for state occasions. Everyone tried to forget about him. He had promised Simon to make his son Thief Lord after him, even with the taint—" Ocher broke off, and looked confused.
"Even with the Talbos blood in him," Ajalia said helpfully.
"Yes," Ocher said. "We have been pure here for a very long time," he told her. "Beryl was known to have been born in Talbos, though her parents had come from Slavithe, and Simon was a full-blooded prince of that place. No one else could track the witches," he told her, "until Beryl came, and when Tree's wife was dead, and it was discovered that the witches had not been exterminated, there was an outcry."
"So Beryl was able to stay, and to gain power, because Lilleth could not do the work of the witch-caller, but she taught Beryl what Lily had taught her," Ajalia said, "and so Beryl became a witch, and learned to track the magic."
"Yes," Ocher said. "We had her under a strict watch, and under many spells. Beryl swore many oaths, not to turn on us."
Ajalia's mouth folded up into a look of some irritation.
"It might sound a little thin, now," Ocher told her, "but the witches were very bold then, and I think," he said, pausing, "I hope that she was not evil from the very beginning."
Ajalia remembered the long chain of stolen people that had stretched along behind Beryl, and Ocher must have seen the look in her eyes, because he quickly spoke again.
"She must have been wrong from the beginning," he told Ajalia. "She had to have been bad inside. But I did not suspect anything was wrong for a long time, and we did not start to talk of her possible betrayal until we found that Bain would not die."
"You suspected that she was helping Bain?" Ajalia asked. Ocher shrugged helplessly.
"Bain was not like the other shadows," he said. "I still do not know how he managed not to die so many times."
"Bain told me," Ajalia said slowly, "that only witches could hurt him." She remembered what the boy
had said, about Lilleth helping to drive him out from his body, and she shivered again. Ocher's eyes went to the entrance of the dragon temple, where the light was clearly growing warm and low.
"I am to meet the Thief Lord," Ocher told her, "at the setting of the sun."
"Tell me about the position, politically, that Tree had," Ajalia said, "and I will ask no more questions."
"He remained the Thief Lord," Ocher told her, "in authority over Simon, and he remained the holder of the official succession. It was the only way that the people would accept Simon as a Thief Lord at all." Ocher turned to Clare, and pressed his lips to her cheek. "I will come back," he told her softly, and she smiled up at him.
"Goodbye," Clare said, and Ocher met her eyes for a long moment.
Ocher turned, and hurried away, and Leed, as if shot from a rocket, came to Ajalia with the sack of food in his hands.
"I waited very patiently," Leed told Ajalia sternly, "and you did not take five minutes."
"I'm sorry," Ajalia told Leed, with a truly penitent look in her eyes. The boy sniffed, and looked up at Clare.
"He's going to be absolutely in love with you," Leed told the girl, "forever and ever and ever." Clare blushed, and looked down at the boy. She had been staring out of the dragon temple, in the direction that Ocher had gone. "And if you break his heart," Leed added viciously, "Ajalia will make you cry." Ajalia almost laughed, but Clare met her eyes solemnly.
"I know," Clare said, and she went away to join Chad and Sun, who were hovering, like dancing butterflies, near the end of the hall by the stairs.
Ajalia watched Sun, and she began to eat the food that Leed had brought her. She had not realized how hungry she was; her gut felt suddenly desolate, and she ate eagerly.
"You have not been taking care of yourself," Leed told Ajalia shrewdly. She did not smile at him; her cheeks were full of things to eat. Leed watched her with grim satisfaction. "Have you got anyone helping you yet?" Leed asked suddenly, "Or is it only me?"
Ajalia didn't need to ask Leed what he meant; she knew he was asking if she had anyone who understood her, and could support her in what she did.
"I missed you," Ajalia told the boy, and Leed grimaced.
"Answer the question," he commanded.
"I found a young man this morning," Ajalia said. "I think he'll be competent." Leed's eyes narrowed.
"Are you saying that you replaced me?" he demanded. His voice was hard, but he was not pushing her. She saw that he would abandon her, if he felt slighted.
"His name is Isacar," Ajalia told Leed, tearing across a length of dried fruit. "He is a sort of invisible and knowing young man. I think he will arrange the details of what I want in the house, and free me to do more interesting things."
"Well, that's all right," Leed said easily. "I don't want to do that job, anyway."
"I hoped you would come back," Ajalia said, chewing voraciously. "I was beginning to think I would have to come after you on a rescue mission."
Leed looked up from under his fringe of brown hair, and she saw that he was pleased with what she had said.
"I was all right," Leed said, and Ajalia thought of what he had acted like when he had first shown his face in the dragon temple. She thought that he had not looked all right. She told herself that when she was not so busy stuffing her face with food, she would interrogate Leed further. Leed seemed to read her thoughts, because he sighed a little. "I wouldn't mind telling you about it," Leed said, "but I don't want to say it out loud right now."
"You're saying that so I'll stop worrying about you," Ajalia told him. "It won't work." She fished the last chunk of pastry, which was a flaky dough baked around a slice of fish, out of the bag, and gave the bag back to Leed. Leed rolled the fabric up efficiently, and stuff it into his pocket.
"I could make you forget about asking me," Leed told her, disgruntled, "if I really wanted to."
"No, you couldn't," Ajalia said. "You've been beaten. It shows in your eyes. You're going to tell me who did it, or," she added, as Leed began to swell up with indignation, "I won't pay you for feeding me." Leed's eyes narrowed. His mouth drew down very small, and he looked at her as though he was thinking about the color of her hair.
"Your hair was darker," Leed said, "when I left."
"Leed," Ajalia said. She ate the rest of the fish pastry, and wiped the crumbs from her fingers.
"Ajalia," Leed said in an even, mature voice. Ajalia put away the smile that threatened to spill out of her mouth, and instead, she drew out the same leather pouch of coins that she had given to Clare, and that Clare had given back to her. Leed's eyes followed the progress of the pouch. "Is there money in that bag?" Leed asked. Ajalia nodded. "How much money is in there?" Leed asked. He sounded tempted, but wary.
Ajalia pulled out a series of large coins, and turned them over in her hands. She had taken four coins out; when she reached in for the fifth, and largest coin, Leed let out a disgruntled shout.
"This is not fair!" Leed told her. "I want to maintain my dignity."
"What dignity is there," she asked him, "in hiding the people who hurt you?" Leed watched her darkly.
"I don't know," he admitted. "It doesn't sound so dignified, when you say it like that."
"There is no need to protect such people," Ajalia told him. She did not tell him that she would hunt the people down who had beaten him, if she could, and punish them thoroughly. She thought that Leed would become ashamed, and hide his story, if he knew how angry she really was, and would be, when she knew more of what had happened.
Leed pursed his lips, and blew out his cheeks.
"Well," he said slowly, "I will tell you a little bit, and only because you are being stubborn about the money." Ajalia nodded graciously, and waited. The five coins turned over in her palm; they chinked together, and glinted sharply in the light of the now-setting sun. Leed's lips worked back and forth; his eyes were on the coins. When he had hesitated for more than a minute, Ajalia took one of the medium-sized coins, and put it away.
"Stop that now!" Leed said sharply. "You put that back in your hand, now!" he directed firmly. Ajalia held the coin just over the mouth of the pouch, and waited. "Ajalia," Leed said threateningly.
"Spill," Ajalia told him. Leed made an angry face; he looked as though a hive of bees was struggling to remove themselves forcefully from his mouth.
"It was my uncle," Leed said finally. "He beat me for leaving my post." Leed glanced up at Ajalia, and she saw that he was going to cry. He sniffed ferociously, and rubbed at his nose. "I'm like you said I was," he said miserably, looking with intense fervor at the coins Ajalia held in her hand. "I'm a spy," he said. "My uncle tells me where I can go, and my parents do live in Talbos, but they're from there. They aren't from Slavithe." Leed looked up at Ajalia. She silently held out the coins, and he took them slowly out of her hand. "This isn't enough," Leed said with a laugh. "He'll kill me, when he knows that I told you." Leed looked down at the white stone floor, and his eyes had gone a little flat. "No one told me to come with you," Leed added, looking up at Ajalia. "That's why it was so hard to get me out of the quarries," he added. "Usually, boys like me stay in the quarries until they're older, and they can be moved into a position of power or influence, or into a family that has position."
"But you got permission to be transferred to me," Ajalia said. Leed nodded. His cheeks were flushed with unshed tears, and he wiped at his nose again.
"My dad doesn't know," he added quickly, meeting her eyes again. "He thinks I got out."
"How would you get out?" Ajalia asked. Leed smiled, and shrugged.
"I told him how we snuck out, and Philas was there," Leed said. "My dad thought I would go East, with Barat and the rest. They took Darien," Leed added, looking at Ajalia. He grinned suddenly. "I can talk pretty well now," he told her in the Eastern tongue. "I forgot to tell you that part," Leed said proudly, and he had switched back to Slavithe. Ajalia regarded Leed carefully.
"What is your uncle's name?" she ask
ed. Leed looked at her suspiciously.
"Are you pleased?" he demanded, annoyance hot in his eyes. "I learned the language, just like you told me to."
"Name," Ajalia said quietly. Leed glared at her, and his mouth was the smallest, thinnest line that Ajalia had ever seen. "Emotional displays will not distract me," Ajalia told the boy, "though they will affect my idea of your discretion."
"You do not play fair," Leed told her, and Ajalia was reminded sharply of the first time she had spoken to Eccsa, or Lasa, as the woman had called herself. Eccsa had said just the same thing, when Ajalia had negotiated with her for the rental of the little white house.
Footsteps sounded near the front of the hall, and Ajalia turned in time to see Isacar coming up the steps. He had one hand wrapped firmly around the shoulder of Coren, the late Thief Lord's youngest son.
"Is that Isacar?" Leed asked. Ajalia scooped the coins from Leed's hand, and held them up above his head. Leed's face twisted into an expression of utter fury. "Wesley," Leed said, and his voice was like the violent death of many small birds. Ajalia released the coins, and Leed, who had been watching them carefully, caught them all before they fell.
"This is Isacar," Ajalia told Leed, and the young man who had recently been in service to the old man Tree came up to them, Coren firmly in tow. Ajalia saw that Coren held a very long bag slung over his back. Isacar, she saw, had his free hand resting gently on the surface of this bag. Ajalia smiled; Isacar, she thought, was a young man who knew how to watch for thievery.
"I have returned," Isacar said to Ajalia, and Ajalia felt again the surge of comfort in her heart that the young man's presence brought her.
"You're Isacar, huh?" Leed asked. He puffed out his tiny chest, and regarded the young man from his head to his feet. "Ajalia says that you're all right," Leed told the young man. Isacar looked down at Leed, and said nothing. His eyes were neutral. "He's pretty good," Leed said, nodding to Ajalia. "I think he'll work out."
"Where was Coren?" Ajalia asked Isacar. Isacar made no face, but Ajalia felt as though she could smell disgust rolling elegantly from the young man's voice when he spoke.
