When the King caught his breath, he moved his hand slightly and allowed one of the servants to wipe his mouth. Then he said, “We will let the readers explain the procedure.”
Tarne stared at Dasis, his smile gone. The servants helped the King ease back onto the pillows. Dasis got up, held out her hand, and went to Stashie. Stashie rose and met her halfway across the stairs. They turned, and curtsied before the King. He waved them around to face the people sitting on the floor.
“When we read hearts,” Dasis said, “we read character. We can tell you how a person has loved and whether or not he feels loved. We can tell you if he’s malicious” —she glanced at Tarne—”or merely unlucky. We do not heal, nor do we tell the future.”
“We’re looking for a pure heart,” Stashie said. Dasis forced herself to remain still. She hadn’t expected Stashie to speak. “A pure heart knows how to love and how to protect, how to rule without pain. But pure hearts can be shattered, and if we do not find one here, we can make no determination about your future ruler.”
Dasis bit her lower lip. Had Stashie changed her mind? Was she saying this so that Dasis would not choose Ele as the King’s successor? Or was she exonerating herself and Dasis should Ele become a worse ruler than his father?
The silence grew too long. A few of the men below shifted on their seats. “We read one heart at a time,” Dasis said, her voice abnormally loud. “My partner draws the heart with chalk on a slate and I read what she has put there. She does not understand the drawings and I do not know how to draw. That is the magic of heart reading. It takes two to complete the vision.”
Stashie ducked her head and tugged on Dasis’s arm. “We’re ready to begin.”
Dasis didn’t sit yet. “We will not announce the results until both hearts are read.”
Stashie glanced at her. The wide-eyed look was back. Tarne’s smile had grown. He looked as if he were happy about the fear he saw.
The brothers stood together, identical men. Only their expressions differed. They came down the stairs side by side. Stashie put a slate on her lap, set out her chalks, and indicated that the men should sit.
They glanced at each other, and Dasis saw her fear reflected in their eyes. Their days as brothers and partners were over. They would now become separated into the ruler and the ruled.
The brothers sat and Stashie took the left hand of the nearer brother. “Your name?” she murmured.
“Ele,” he said.
Dasis couldn’t suppress a start. This was the one Tarne wanted. That automatically made the man suspect. Dasis somehow didn’t believe that Tarne would support the brother with the purer heart.
Stashie closed her eyes, grabbed five chalks and began to sketch. From Dasis’s distance, the marks looked like scratchings in the sand. She couldn’t even see the chalk colors as clearly as she would like.
When Stashie finished, she set the slate down instead of handing it to Dasis. Dasis took the slate and set it on the other side of her, not wanting to look until both sketches were done.
Stashie held the hand of the other brother, Vasenu. This time she took only one chalk and her lines were smoother. Dasis made herself look away. She didn’t want to prejudice the reading. No matter what Tarne threatened, she knew now, as she watched, that she could never pervert this project. To do so would be to sacrifice the magic, and she could not do that.
Stashie set down the second slate, then grabbed Dasis’s hand. Dasis could feel Stashie’s pulse, hammering rapidly under her skin. She didn’t understand the message Stashie seemed to be trying to tell her with that single glance. Dasis offered her partner a half-smile, then grabbed both slates and set them on her lap.
She looked down, expecting to see hearts floating behind ribcages, showing all of their scars, all of the remains of their loves. Instead she saw single colored lines, thin marks, and solid blocks of color. She squinted, but nothing came clear. For a moment, she thought her sight had gone. Then she saw Stashie, biting her bottom lip so hard that a thin trickle of blood ran down her chin.
Radekir. Stashie had slept with Radekir.
The realization hit Dasis like a slap in the face. She felt numb and completely empty. Then the emptiness filled with a rage so deep she wasn’t sure she could suppress it.
She had to think. They were all waiting for her, and she had to think.
The easy answer would be to declare Ele as the pure heart. No wonder Stashie had made that suggestion. She didn’t have the courage to tell Dasis what had happened. Stashie had only thought about herself and a way out once Dasis discovered what had gone wrong.
The rage gave her power. She set the slates down and stood. “Sire, do you believe in heart readers, in their powers and in their magicks?”
Murmurs rose behind her. Her speech was a breach of protocol.
The King blinked twice. He took a silk handkerchief and blotted his mouth. “If I didn’t,” he said, sounding confused, “I wouldn’t have called you here.”
“And you have an understanding of how our magic works?”
A frown creased the center of his forehead. “I believe so.”
“You know that it is based on a sexual bond between the two partners. A monogamous sexual bond?”
The murmurs grew in intensity. Stashie tugged Dasis’s skirt and she could feel Tarne’s gaze sear her back.
“It’s not something I like to think about.” The King’s puzzlement was turning to anger.
“I can’t read these slates,” Dasis said. “I was afraid that would happen. You see, last night, that man sitting right there”—she turned and pointed to Tarne— “kidnapped me and brought me to his tent. He repeatedly threatened me, told me I had to do what he said or he would kill my partner. And when I refused, he . . .” The lie wasn’t going to come as easily as she thought. She forced herself to continue. “He violated me.”
The murmurs rose to gasps. Stashie let out a small moan.
“She lies!” Tarne’s bellow silenced them all.
“No.” Dasis’s voice trembled. She brushed Stashie’s hand away from her leg. “You can interrogate his men. He brought me, alone, to his tent and kept me there with him—just the two of us for hours. There were men outside, but none of them came inside or had occasion to know what he did.”
“I never touched her!” Tarne was on his feet, halfway up the stairs before he stopped.
“So you don’t deny that you kidnapped her.” Vasenu spoke, his voice tinged with sarcasm.
“Her partner was a spy from the southern lands. I thought I had killed her many years ago.”
“And yet you never said anything when we discussed which readers to use. You were pleased at our choice.” Vasenu had also risen, his hands clenched at his side. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes snapped with anger.
“I didn’t remember until later.” Tarne stood directly behind Stashie. She was flanked by two angry men. She had let go of Dasis’s skirt, and covered her face with her hands.
“Not true,” Dasis said. “He told me about Stashie as soon as he took me into his tent. He told me how he had killed her family to break her spirit and how he had repeatedly raped her when she was little more than a child. And he threatened to hurt her again if I didn’t do what he wanted.”
“What did he want?” Ele asked.
His tone was so soft that for a moment, Dasis wasn’t sure she had heard him correctly. Then she sighed. If she said anything, then she would destroy any chance for a clear reading later on. “I can’t tell you,” she said. “He wanted a specific result from this reading. And if you get readers to do a proper reading, and you know what Tarne wanted, you will always question the result. The fact that I am standing here and revealing this now should tell you that I will not take the side of that malicious creature, no matter how much he hurts me.”
Her words echoed in the room. She had never heard such a complete silence before.
The King put his handkerchief over his mouth and coughed. He gasped for air, his s
kin turning gray. His servants leaned over him, as if their presence could help, but he pushed them away. He took a deep breath, coughed one more time, and wheezed.
“Why didn’t you speak up before we began the reading?”
“I thought rape would not affect my reading.” Dasis looked at Stashie as she spoke. “It wasn’t making love. It was violence. It wasn’t even my choice. I have been and always will be faithful to Stashie. That man’s violation should not have affected my reading abilities or my bond with my partner.”
Stashie hadn’t moved. Vasenu was watching Dasis as if he could determine what she was trying to do by staring at her face. Tarne had frozen in place, his eyes wide with shock. He had probably never had anyone betray him before.
“We need to complete this reading this morning, because I don’t have much time left. What can we do?” The King’s voice was weak and raspy. He was leaning hard on his servants.
“Sire!” A voice echoed from the back of the Assembly Room. Dasis turned with the others. A guard ran down the aisle and started up the stairs. “I have a message here from a woman at the gate. She said I was to deliver it if the reading didn’t work.”
The King pushed away from his servants. “Speak.”
“She said that she has something one of the partners needs. And that she can make the reading work.”
“How would she know?” Vasenu said. “How would she know that it wasn’t going to work.”
Stashie unfolded herself like a flower. As she got to her feet, she eased herself away from Tarne. “Because,” she said.
Dasis reached for her, but Stashie ignored her. If Stashie spoke, she would ruin the little bit that Dasis had been able to salvage. “Because,” Stashie repeated, “I made love with her last night. I’m the one who broke the vows. Not Dasis.”
CHAPTER 29
Pardu felt his stomach turn. He didn’t know how things could have deteriorated so badly since the night before. “Send for her,” he said, and allowed a wave of dizziness to overtake him. Two of the soldiers turned on their heels (very ceremonial, Pardu thought), and left through the main doors.
Pardu forced himself to take a deep breath. This was wearing him more than he wanted. He couldn’t stand again and run the risk of falling before everyone. They already saw his illness. He couldn’t make it worse by a public display of blood and fainting.
“Tarne,” he said. “Come here.”
Tarne finished climbing the steps. He knelt before Pardu, and bowed his head.
Pardu almost reached out to touch Tarne and then stopped himself. He had known this man for decades, had seen his work, and knew about his cruel streak. He had never thought, however, that Tarne would do anything to jeopardize his relationship with the King.
“Truth, Tarne. I want to know why you brought the heart reader here without my permission.”
Tarne kept his head down, his voice humble. “I remembered who the other reader was tonight, sire. I sent for them both, but the guards only came back with one. I wanted to make sure these women were truly loyal. I didn’t want them to pervert this process to settle an old vendetta.”
“And you used beatings and rapes to determine this information?”
“She lies, sire.”
Pardu felt an anger shake through him. He wasn’t dead yet. He still had to command loyalties, even if his most trusted adviser had decided to subvert all that he was working for. “Perhaps she does, Tarne, but you lie too. You wanted to mold this process your own way. You’re afraid that the son who inherits will demote you and strip you of your power, so you’re trying to retain all you have—and perhaps gain more.”
Tarne finally raised his head. His cheeks were flushed, but with anger or shame Pardu couldn’t tell. “Sire, I—”
“Vasenu has told me of your scheme to help him take my place. I can only assume you approached Ele too. I thought I could dismiss this. I thought my son was overreacting and that I understood that you were only trying to solidify your position for the transition. I explained that talk away. Tell me how to explain this one.” Pardu choked on the last word. The cough came back, deep and rumbling from inside his chest. He put the blood-flecked handkerchief in front of his mouth and let the cough destroy his throat. Tears of pain floated in his eyes, and he half wished that death had taken him already.
“Sire, I—”
“No.” Pardu forced out the word. He waited for the cough to subside, wiped his mouth, and put the handkerchief down. “You will tell me no more lies. You will sit beside me and watch this reading, and you will serve whichever of my sons will take my place. You have proven yourself untrustworthy. But because you have served me well, I will not destroy you. In return, I am taking from you your power to rule the soldiers. You will be only an adviser now. You will share no part of the rule. And when I die, your fate will be in the hands of my successor. I make no promises to you that will outlive me. If my successor decides to execute you for treason, so be it. That is the choice you have made.”
“Sire—”
“Shut up and sit beside me. We still have a reading to watch.” Pardu gripped the pillow. The dizziness had grown stronger. “Where is that woman anyway?”
The advisers were staring at him. Some of their faces were gray with fear. Others smiled, as if pleased that Pardu had taken on Tarne. His sons kept their expressions masked. Pardu wondered which of them Tarne would have chosen, and thought he knew.
The heart readers were sitting side by side on the steps, not touching and not looking at each other. Pardu shuddered as he looked at them. He did not understand their magic and he did not understand their relationship. Women gave pleasure and they gave children. They had their own mysterious lives that Pardu did not investigate. But he couldn’t imagine maintaining a long-term monogamous relationship with anyone—male or female—and except for the heart readers, he knew of no one who did that. Or perhaps he saw no one who did that. People did not speak much about their lives away from the palace.
The doors to the Assembly Room opened. The guards returned, flanking a tall, thin woman wearing a turban. She limped as she walked and relied heavily on a large walking stick. As she grew closer, Pardu realized she had been recently beaten. He glanced at Tarne, who stared forward as if nothing unusual had happened.
“State your name,” Pardu said, “and your reason for standing before us.”
“My name is Radekir.” The woman’s voice was soft and mellifluous. “And I am Stashie’s new partner.”
CHAPTER 30
Radekir leaned on her staff. Her head felt light and twice its size. She wasn’t quite sure if she should be here or not. She hadn’t expected all the people. The room was cold and smelled of fear. Stashie sat before her, eyes wide and full of pain.
Dasis kept shaking her head. “No,” she murmured. “No.”
Stashie put her hand over Dasis’s. Dasis pulled away.
“Are you saying that you can read the slates?” the King asked. His presence wasn’t as commanding as Radekir had expected. She had thought he would be a bigger man, more robust and powerful. Still, the edge in his tone frightened her.
“Yes,” she said. She would have to. Dasis and Stashie had failed. Now it was time to test the theory. Monogamous sexual relationship? Or simply a loving sexual contact? She would finally know.
Dasis reached behind her and pulled out two slates. “Stashie already did the drawings,” she said. Her hands shook as she gave the slates to Radekir. “Stashie will tell you who each slate belongs to.”
Radekir took them with the hand not holding the staff. She limped to the stairs and sat down, setting the staff beside her. For a moment, she closed her eyes, remembering the feel of the magic, the power that seeing slates had held. Then she set one slate down, held the other out in front of her, and opened her eyes.
The slate was blank. She turned it over, expecting a trick. The back was blank also with no drawings on the gray material. She picked up the other slate. It too was blank.
&n
bsp; “You’ve given me the wrong ones,” she hissed at Dasis. The woman would trip her up no matter what was at stake. All she cared about was her relationship with Stashie, not that their lives were in danger.
“No,” Dasis said. “Those are the drawings that Stashie made just a few moments ago.”
“These slates are blank!” Radekir’s voice echoed in the silence. She could feel everyone watching her. She didn’t like the way that her mouth had suddenly gone dry.
Stashie climbed down the steps and took the slates from Radekir. Then she kissed Radekir’s hands and held them to her cheek. “What matters is that you tried,” she said.
The pounding in Radekir’s head had grown worse. “They’re blank,” she said, and her words sounded almost like a plea.
“No,” Stashie said. “These are the right slates. You can’t help us, Radekir, although I appreciate your trying.”
“If I hadn’t seen you read yesterday,” the King bellowed as he rose to his feet—without support, “then I would think this some kind of elaborate scheme to force me away from using the magical choice. But I saw you read. I know that the magic exists and that you can be accurate. This reading must happen today. It must happen now.”
Stashie let go of Radekir’s hand. Stashie’s entire body was shaking. Radekir could see the effort it took for Stashie to stand and face the King. “Sire,” Stashie said, “if you want an accurate reading, you must give me time alone with my partner.” And then she added, as if realizing the confusion her statement caused, “With Dasis.”
The copper taste was bitter in the back of Radekir’s mouth. She had wanted so badly for this to work. If she had read with Stashie, they could have disappeared together. Radekir would have had a partner again and Stashie would have had someone who understood her.
“So be it.” The King clapped his hands. “But should you fail, this woman”—he pointed at Radekir—”will die. Take her from here and hold her until the readings are done.”
Heart Readers Page 15
