Heart Readers

by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

  “You mean Radekir.”

  Dasis opened her eyes. Stashie was glancing at her sideways, her expression unreadable.

  “Maybe Radekir. But no. I meant in everything. You no longer want to read.”

  Stashie finished her date and set the pit aside. “I don’t know what I want,” she said quietly. “Maybe nothing at all.”

  Dasis nodded. She had squeezed her date until the juices ran along the inside of her palm. She took a cloth and wiped her hand, mixing chalk dust with the date juice.

  “I didn’t tell you what I heard,” she said, not wanting to destroy the moment, but no longer able to hold the secret. “The king needs heart readers.”

  Stashie was silent for so long that Dasis was afraid she hadn’t spoken loudly enough. “You knew that before we came,” Stashie finally said.

  “I had heard, yes.”

  “And even though you know what anguish that man has caused me, you still thought we could go in there and read.” Stashie’s voice rose with each word. “That’s just what I was talking about. You don’t think, Dasis.”

  “Yes, I do.” Dasis kept her tone level, but she could not look at Stashie. “I thought we could make enough from that reading so we could quit. You wouldn’t have to make these choices anymore.”

  “What made you think I could do the reading?” Stashie asked. “I don’t care how much money is there. The reading itself would be impossible for me. Dasis—”

  “Heart readers?” The man’s voice was deep. He stood at the edge of the rug, his chin lifted, his manner used to command. He wore no uniform, but his robes were made of silk.

  “Yes,” Dasis said, wishing she could tell him to go away, but knowing she didn’t dare.

  “I would like to try a reading.”

  Dasis glanced at Stashie. Stashie cleared the dates from her lap and picked up her slate. The discussion was over. They were going back to work.

  “Have a seat,” Dasis said. And as she explained the procedure, she held herself rigidly, forcing herself to concentrate on the work, not the tension between herself and Stashie.

  CHAPTER 9

  Ele was resting by the baths. Tarne hesitated for a moment, then wandered over. He had been purposely avoiding Ele, uncertain how best to approach him. Vasenu’s reaction had left Tarne shaken; he didn’t want to alienate the other brother too.

  All of the pools were empty. Ele was the only person lounging on the piles of cushions beside the water. The air was humid here, inviting people to slide into the baths and ease the tensions of the day.

  Tarne sat on a pile of cushions. Ele’s eyes were closed, his hands clasped on the back of his head. A servant was waving a fan and another had brought drinks to set beside the baths. Ele’s skin was red and smooth; he looked as if he had been in the waters a long time.

  Tarne half closed his eyes and rested for a moment. He didn’t want it to look as if this move was deliberate. He wondered if Vasenu had said anything to his brother.

  Ele rolled on his side and looked at Tarne. Tarne wondered how he had ever confused the brothers. Ele’s face wasn’t as harsh. He looked younger, as if the strains his brother had endured hadn’t touched him.

  “My father’s most trusted adviser has time to rest?” Ele’s voice, however, had the same mocking quality that Vasenu’s did.

  “We all need to rest,” Tarne said. He closed his eyes all the way, as if he had no interest in conversation.

  “I’ve done nothing but rest since we’ve returned. Do you know if my father will speak to us soon?”

  A wisp of salty steam rose from the baths and enveloped Tarne, making him even hotter than he was. He longed to remove his uniform and truly rest, but he didn’t dare. “I’m sure he will.”

  Tarne kept his voice calm. So Vasenu hadn’t spoken to his brother. No one had. And despite what Vasenu said, the King still hadn’t told them why he brought them home.

  “My father is ill, isn’t he?” Ele asked. “He looks very fragile.”

  Tarne frowned, then opened his eyes. The King had lost weight recently and his chronic cough seemed to have grown worse, but Tarne had never thought that meant the King was ill.

  “He has been more tired than usual.”

  “Vasenu says he looks different because we haven’t seen him for so long. But it seems to me as if he’s withering away. He was always such a big man and now he seems so slight.”

  Tarne rubbed his eyes. The baths were too hot to sit by fully clothed. “Some of that is the effect of age and time.”

  Ele sighed and rolled onto his back. “You don’t see it either.”

  “There is nothing to see.” Tarne snapped his fingers at one of the servants, beckoning him closer so that the fan could drive away the steam. “Why are you so worried about this? Do you want to know what will happen when he dies?”

  “I heard a story,” Ele said, “that when Vasenu and I were born, Father hired heart readers to tell him which of us to kill. The heart readers couldn’t read newborn hearts, so he told them he would wait until we became adults, kill one of us and make the other his heir.”

  Tarne clasped his hands together, not pushing the conversation, not willing to make the same mistakes he had made earlier. “You’re asking me if that’s so?”

  Ele hadn’t moved. “Is it?”

  “I don’t know. I was on campaigns in those years. I don’t know what your father plans for his sons.”

  “But you’re his most trusted adviser.”

  “Yes,” Tarne said. He chose his words with caution. “But even my position is threatened should the King get sick and die.”

  Ele raised himself on one elbow and looked at Tarne. “So what do you plan to do?”

  Tarne thought for a moment. He could answer truthfully and jeopardize walking into a trap, or he could take his time, work slowly to see if Ele was truly operating alone. “I plan to wait to see what happens when your father dies.”

  “No military uprisings? No coup?”

  Tarne smiled. “If I were planning that, do you think I would tell you?”

  Ele shook his head. “Vasenu said that you wanted one of us to work against the other so that you would have a place of power once Father died.”

  Tarne made himself remain still. So Vasenu was talking. Tarne had made a more serious mistake than he had thought. “Such a move would probably make sense,” Tarne said, “when it became clear that your father had only a little time left. It’s not clear now. Your father seems healthy to me.”

  “Are you saying that my brother lied?” Ele’s voice had risen in pitch to that of a man expecting a fight.

  “I’m saying that your brother might have misunderstood a conversation. He doesn’t like me much.”

  “He saw the results of your campaigns in the south.”

  “So did you.” Tarne snapped his fingers and the other servant came over. He took a drink off the tray. “Do you hate me too?”

  “I think war brings out sides of men that we wouldn’t normally see.”

  Tarne sipped the drink. It was cool. “I think you’re probably right. But you didn’t answer my question.”

  “If my brother and I hate you, you have no future here once my father dies, isn’t that so?”

  Tarne shrugged.

  “So I am better off saying that I respect you to prevent some sort of subversive military action.”

  “There will probably be such an action anyway,” Tarne said. “Leanda has never been ruled by a pair of twins, even though each ruler has once had a twin brother.”

  Ele wiped sweat from his face. “You’re saying that my brother and I will war against each other?”

  “If your father doesn’t settle the succession question before he dies.”

  “If my brother and I war against each other, which side will you be on?”

  “The side that wins.”

  Ele stared at him. Tarne smiled and set his drink on the parquet flooring. “Neither you nor your brother has military support,”
Tarne said. “Like it or not, the future ruler needs me.”

  “Things have time to change.”

  “Do they?” Tarne stood. “You’re the one who said that your father looks ill. Was that just a pretense to get me into this conversation?”

  Ele glanced away.

  “I thought not,” Tarne said. “I knew something had to be wrong for your father to call you back so soon.” He walked over to Ele’s cushions and looked down at the young man. “With or without you and your brother, I will retain my power,” he said softly. “I’m the one with the military support. Remember that.”

  Then he walked away, feeling calmer than he had in days. This conversation went as the other one should have. Smoothly. Points made and measured. Vasenu might dismiss Tarne out of hand, but Ele would think about it.

  And that was all Tarne needed. Just a little bit of thought from one brother.

  Tarne smiled. He had started everything moving. Now all he had to do was follow it through.

  CHAPTER 10

  Pardu kept his eyes closed, unwilling to face the morning. The night had been long; he spent most of it pacing and spitting up blood. His pillows were damp with sweat, even though the heat of the day hadn’t yet begun. He had never been this sick before, and the physicians were more concerned with their own reputations than with healing him.

  As if he could be healed. His own father had died this way, withering into nothing, spitting out his insides day after day after day. Pardu recognized the pattern. He would have to choose for his sons because he didn’t want them to make the same mistakes that he had.

  He still remembered that morning. His brother, Megle, had brought in a fortune-teller in an attempt to negate the heart reading. Pardu still remembered his frustration, his feeling that the succession fight would never end. Whether he started the argument or not, he no longer knew, but he did know that Megle had pulled his sword first. Pardu had shoved his sword through Megle’s heart almost before he realized what he had done.

  He wiped the sweat from his eyes and staggered off the pillows, nearly losing his balance as he tried to stand. It would be a long day with his pretense of health. He sighed, then directed a servant to bring in his bath.

  When his bathwater arrived, it felt tepid. He climbed in anyway and relaxed against the cedar sides of the tub. The room reflected his restless night. The pillows were in disarray and his clothing strewn about the floor. He would have to direct someone to do a thorough cleaning when he went out to face his day.

  A knock at the door startled him. He had not ordered any breakfast and no one else would disturb him in his rooms.

  “Yes?” he called.

  “Father, I would like to speak with you.” Vasenu. His voice was more powerful than Ele’s.

  “Come,” Pardu said.

  He didn’t bother to cover himself up, but remained stretched in the cool bathwater. Vasenu stepped in. He wore the long, flowing robes of a king’s son. His feet were encased in sandals, and yet he still had that military power and precision Pardu had noticed when the twins rode in. Vasenu glanced at his father, then looked straight ahead. But Pardu still noticed the slight shock in Vasenu’s expression, shock at his father’s condition.

  “Why couldn’t this wait until I held an audience?”

  “Because I need to speak to you away from Tarne’s presence. Are we alone?”

  The cool water had grown chill. Pardu grabbed a towel and eased himself to a standing position. “We’re alone. Sit and relax, Vasenu.”

  His son grabbed a cushion and folded his long body onto it. His expression, touched ever so slightly with fear, made him look like a little boy again.

  “I know that you and Tarne are close,” Vasenu began.

  Pardu waved a hand. “No apologies,” he said. “Just tell me what you need to say.”

  Vasenu nodded. Pardu wrapped a towel around his too-thin body and stepped out of the tub. When he grabbed a robe and slipped it over his head, Vasenu began to speak.

  “Tarne showed up in my rooms a day or so ago. He asked me my plans after your death and told me that together he and I could defeat Ele and ensure my kingship.”

  The robe felt too hot, but Pardu left it on. He sat across from Vasenu. “Why bring this to me?”

  “Because he’s talking treason. He’s talking as if you’re going to die.”

  Pardu smiled. “I am going to die. Everyone does.”

  “But—”

  “And if you look, you will see how very ill I have been. Then you will understand why I called you home.”

  Vasenu’s face paled. “People thin with age.”

  “But they don’t cough blood and have night sweats. My father died this way,” Pardu said. “I think it is a family curse to have twins and to die off the battlefield.”

  “So you brought us home to settle the succession issue.”

  Pardu nodded. He was beginning to shiver under the robes, although he could feel the heat of the day touch his face like the warmth of an oven. “And to ensure that you were here when I died.”

  “Tarne knew this?”

  Pardu clenched his hands. His sons shouldn’t be this unobservant. “I told Tarne nothing. He just spent the time to figure this out.”

  Vasenu took a deep breath, held it, and glanced around the room as if he were seeing it for the first time. “Still,” he said slowly, “Tarne should not have talked to me about taking rule away from my brother.”

  “Of course he should have.” Pardu wrapped his robe tightly around himself, wishing he had the strength to stand. “And he should have spoken to Ele about the same thing.”

  A slight movement of Vasenu’s head told Pardu that his assumption had been correct.

  “Tarne’s first priority is always to keep Tarne in power,” Pardu said. “As long as he has that, he will be a good adviser and a strong ally.”

  “He told Ele that he had the military support to stage a coup.”

  Pardu suppressed a sigh. “And he does. The military is familiar with him. They don’t know you, so why should they support you? I thought you had more sense than this, Vasenu.”

  “I didn’t expect to find out that you were dying.” The pain in Vasenu’s voice sounded young, childlike. He had known from birth that Pardu’s death meant the loss of his entire family. Pardu had given him that much.

  “Expect it now and make plans,” Pardu said. “For the kingdom is more important than any of us. We guard thousands of lives, ensure that hundreds of homes remain stable, that the land is rich. Our work matters more than our lives, do you understand?”

  “Tarne doesn’t understand that,” Vasenu said. He still hadn’t looked at Pardu.

  “No, he doesn’t.” Pardu kept his voice soft. “And that is why he cannot take leadership from you or Ele. I have trained you two to take my place. You must not disappoint me.”

  Vasenu looked at him then, eyes lined with tears. “Who will take your place?” he asked softly. “Have you decided that?”

  Pardu shook his head. “You haven’t been here long enough for me to determine—if I can determine. But I can promise you this. I will live until this question is settled.”

  “You have no control over that,” Vasenu said.

  Pardu smiled, but the smile had no warmth. “My father died without determining succession. My brother and I tried fortune-tellers, heart readers, and agreements. None worked. So one afternoon I killed him. And the family’s rule goes on.”

  Vasenu leaned back as if he had been slapped. “I couldn’t kill Ele,” he whispered. “We’ve been together since we were born.”

  “You do what you have to do,” Pardu said. “If we don’t settle this, either you’ll kill him or he’ll kill you.”

  “Or Tarne will take over.”

  “Which, at the moment, seems more likely.” Pardu leaned against the cushion. The little strength he had summoned had left him. “Leave me now,” he said, “and let your brother know that I wish to speak with him. We must get this pr
ocess started.”

  Vasenu nodded and stood. He bowed once, then left. Pardu waited until his son’s footsteps had faded before collapsing backward against the softness. He needed to think. Perhaps the traditional route was better—the route he had started on and then abandoned. If he called in heart readers and determined which son had the pure heart, he would have to kill the other.

  Pardu sighed. He loved them both. He couldn’t kill one, not even to save the other. He had lied to Vasenu. The country was not the most important thing to Pardu.

  His sons were.

  CHAPTER 11

  Stashie sat in the shade, leaning against the cool mud-brick of one of the shops. The noonday sun beat on her sandaled feet, warming her instead of overheating her. She popped another grape into her mouth and glanced at Radekir.

  Radekir had her eyes closed and her breathing was heavy. She always rested during noontime. The heat was nearly unbearable. Only a handful of customers appeared at that time, and they always had a specific goal in mind. People did not come specifically for Radekir’s readings. Customers always stopped at her table on impulse, and impulse diminished as the sun climbed.

  Stashie had started taking her breaks with Radekir. Few clients approached the heart readers during the noontime as well. Dasis believed that was because Stashie was away from her post; Stashie believed it to be the same cause as Radekir’s. Dasis never left the rug, so Stashie usually brought her food.

  “What’re you staring at?” Radekir murmured.

  Stashie started. She had been thinking so hard, she hadn’t realized that she was still looking at Radekir. Radekir opened one eye and smiled. “You’ve been quiet lately.”

  “What happened between you and your partner?” Stashie asked.