A man lunged out, swinging a mattock at Rinon’s head. Two arrows thudded into his chest, and he sprawled to the ground. Two more guards seized him by the arms and hauled him out of the doorway. Rinon strode in without sparing him another glance.
Gevan swallowed. The death had been so sudden and casual. But the man was nothing but a Mother-hating Dualist, after all.
Ozor followed Rinon in, copying his disregard for the fallen man. But Kabos froze, staring at the dead man’s bulging eyes. The Tevenaran’s skin had a chalky pallor, and when one of the guards gave the man a casual kick, Kabos flinched.
Gevan hesitated, wondering if he should say anything. But Kabos shuddered, shook his head, and turned resolutely toward the door. He marched in, and Gevan followed.
Ozor walked around the perimeter of the room, peering into every corner. He ignored the woman crouching against the far wall, her arms around two whimpering children. He opened a door and surveyed the room beyond, the only other in the small dwelling. “Nothing fancy, but it will do.” He rapped a wooden wall. “Sturdy, sound construction. Yes, this will work nicely.” He turned to Rinon. “My decision is made. I will inform the Matriarch when we return.”
“Excellent.” Rinon spoke to the other guards. “Take these back to the city.” He gestured to the woman and children. “A few days in the dungeon will teach them not to spit on the Matriarch’s generosity again.”
He went to the hearth. Taking up the poker that stood beside it, he prodded the fire until he found what he was looking for. He picked up a branch that was burning on one end. “We’ll come back tonight for the rest. Until then, this will keep them busy.”
Gevan and the others followed him out. Behind them, Gevan heard the woman screaming and weeping as the guards pried the children from her arms and dragged her to her feet. Rinon strode to the shrine. He kicked its door open, stuck his head through and glanced around, then tossed the smoldering branch inside. “Guards, keep them away until it’s going well, then let them bring water and douse the houses on either side so it won’t spread.”
Ozor frowned. “I need those houses for my people.”
“If they burn, the Matriarch will provide you with materials to build more. Believe me, you don’t want that monstrosity among you. Even if you used it to store manure or keep pigs, the foulness would linger. Fire will cleanse it.”
Rinon went back to his horse and mounted, gesturing for the others to do the same. “Let’s give the Matriarch the good news. You can start moving your people in tomorrow.”
They headed up the road toward Ramunna. Gevan looked back as they approached the bend in the road that would take the village out of sight. Black smoke belched from the burning shrine. Dualist villagers scurried about like ants, battling to keep their homes from burning. They didn’t know they would be torn from those homes that very night, and all they had built would be given to the strangers from across the sea.
It didn’t matter, Gevan told himself. They were just Dualists. They’d broken the law. Only the Matriarch’s leniency had let them remain so long outside the walls of the Dualist quarter. This would be a reminder to every Dualist in Ramunna of what happened when they forgot their place.
Gevan turned his face resolutely toward the city. Kabos rode beside him, staring intently forward. Under its warm brown complexion his face was pale, and his hands clenched fiercely tight on his horse’s reins.
Eleven
Nirel glided across the room, taking tiny rapid steps as Kevessa had taught her, eyeing herself critically in the length of silvered glass mounted on the far wall. Yes, she was getting much better. She could create the illusion that she was floating footless above the ground almost as well as her friend. As she reached the mirror, she drifted to a halt in the way that kept the bell of her skirts from swinging up and bent her knees in a curtsy. She still wobbled a little, and when she inclined her body and bowed her head as deeply as the proper fashion required she couldn’t see what she looked like, but she was definitely making progress. Maybe by the time the ball that Kevessa was so excited about arrived, she could learn these new skills well enough not to embarrass her friend.
She straightened and made a pretense of adjusting her clothes in order to watch her father in the mirror. He sat on a plump upholstered couch by the wide brick fireplace, staring into the flames. He hadn’t stirred from the spot all evening. He’d been even more taciturn than usual when he’d arrived with the rest of the men for the evening meal. Nirel had been too busy listening to Ozor’s glowing report of the village the Matriarch was going to give them to pay much attention. But when he’d left after the meal instead of remaining with the rest of the company in the dining hall, she’d noticed. She followed him to the small suite of rooms they shared, but he snarled at her that he wished to be alone, so she went back to enjoy the companionship of the others.
She’d soon grown restless, though. After Kevessa left with her father, there wasn’t much to do. She tried to strike up a conversation with Gan about what he’d seen at the village, but he refused to say much. That was strange; usually Gan would talk at great length about anything. But when she questioned him he just shrugged and focused his attention on the mediocre singer providing the evening’s entertainment.
She hadn’t been surprised when Shonika refused to talk. The woman had finally emerged from her self-imposed isolation, but she was so sulky about being excluded from the men’s expedition that she might as well have still been locked in her room.
Nirel pulled up her skirt and watched her feet as she executed the simplest dance step Kevessa had shown her. One-step, two-back, three-turn, four-dip. Then repeat, over and over. Her feet kept getting tangled up and missing the beat, but with enough practice she thought she could master it. She dropped her skirts and studied her reflection as she moved through the pattern. Her fingers brushed the small purse of embroidered silk attached to her belt, feeling the stiff edge of the folded parchment within. The invitations were rare and highly prized. Kevessa had persuaded the ball’s hostess, the mother of a friend, to issue one to Nirel. Apparently the woman was thrilled by the prospect of the attention and status she’d gain if the exotic foreigner chose to attend her party.
“Father, Kevessa would like me to attend a ball with her.” Kabos didn’t give any indication that he’d heard her speak, but Nirel plowed forward anyway. “All the young men and women of high status in Ramunna come to dance with each other. One of her friends is hosting it; the family is very wealthy and prominent. She says it will help establish me in the right circles. That everyone will want to meet me and hear about Tevenar and our journey.”
Kabos grunted. Encouraged that he hadn’t immediately rejected the idea, Nirel went on. “I’d really like to go. Everything here is so different, but Kevessa is teaching me what to do. She said attending the ball will help me be accepted by her friends. She knows a lot of sons and daughters of wealthy and powerful people. I think it would be good for Ozor and our company if I get to know them, too. I could help Ozor make trade contacts. So I told Kevessa I’d ask you if I could go.”
Kabos grunted again. This time he looked up at Nirel. She favored him with her most persuasive look—pleading, but not so much that she seemed to be trying to manipulate him, meek and accepting of whatever he decided. He scowled at her, but didn’t say no. That was a hopeful sign.
“You don’t have to answer me now. It’s two months away. Speak to Gevan, and the Matriarch, and Ozor, and then you can decide.” She went back to practicing her steps, but she kept an eye on his reflection in the mirror.
He watched her dance for a while. At length he cleared his throat. “You said there will be young men there?”
She’d known this would be the sticking point. Better face it right away and put it in the best light possible. “Yes. Kevessa says this is the way young men and women in Ramunna get to know each other. It’s almost the only time they do anything together. All the parents attend to supervise. They watch, and see how peo
ple get along. Then when they start the negotiations to arrange marriages, they try to match up couples who are compatible. But that’s worked out between the parents. Kevessa says all a girl can do, if there’s a boy she likes, is ask her father to consider him.”
There, that would please Kabos. She certainly wouldn’t repeat the other things Kevessa had told her, about how the boys and girls got around their parents’ watchfulness and snuck off together. Or how if there was someone you really wanted, and you were determined enough, you could refuse every match your parents tried to make until they had to choose him. The Keepers of the Temple wouldn’t perform a marriage unless they were certain both parties were willing.
Sure enough, Kabos looked, if not exactly approving, at least thoughtful. Best not to push him any farther tonight. She twirled in front of the mirror, watching her skirts flare out, and changed the subject. “I’m starting to get used to these clothes. They’re not so bad. You just have to learn how to move in them. Do you know the Matriarch finally sent a tailor to makes clothes for Shonika? They got into a huge fight. Shonika insisted she wouldn’t wear anything but breeches, and the tailor refused to make breeches for a woman. So Kevessa suggested a riding skirt. Apparently that’s acceptable for women who travel on horseback. It’s kind of like really loose breeches, or maybe a skirt that’s split in the middle. Anyway, Shonika didn’t like that either, but she agreed to try one. She was wearing it at the meal tonight; did you see?”
“I didn’t notice.” Nirel could see the effort he put into coming up with a polite response. “I’m glad she found something to suit her.”
He turned back to the fire, but Nirel was determined to keep the conversation going. She couldn’t get her father talking very often. “She was disappointed she couldn’t go to the village today. All the women want to know what it’s like, but none of the men will talk about it. Do you think it will be a good place for us? I bet you’ll be glad to get settled again.”
Kabos didn’t respond. The quality of his silence alarmed Nirel. By necessity she’d become adept at reading her father’s silences. This was the sort that could easily be followed by an explosion.
She knew she should drop the subject. The smallest wrong word could provoke him into a rage. But she couldn’t. There was something very wrong about the village. It had affected everyone who’d been there. She needed to know what was going on. So she came around the end of the couch and sank down on it, as near to Kabos as she dared. “Father, what’s the matter?”
He wouldn’t look at her, but he didn’t start shouting, either. “Nothing.”
“What happened? Did the Matriarch try to trick us?”
“No. The place she wants to give us is perfect for our needs. A good deep harbor with a dock, plenty of strong houses, fields of good soil—or at least, soil that can be made good.”
“So what’s wrong?” An idea occurred to her, and she spoke before she thought. “There must be something, or why wouldn’t people be living there already?”
Too late she saw the rage boil up in her father’s eyes. He glared into the fire. “People do live there. People the Matriarch considers less than nothing.” With each phrase his voice rose. He slammed his fist into his palm. “People she’ll drive from their homes at a whim. People she’ll slaughter without a second thought. People her lackeys sneer at as heretical scum.”
Nirel stared at him. She’d never seen him so agitated by concern for other people. All at once a great many things fell into place. She slid to her knees in front of Kabos and seized his hands, heedless of his fury. “Father, tell me. They’re your people—our people—aren’t they? Are we Dualists?”
He gazed down at her, shocked out of his anger. “How did you—”
“It’s true, isn’t it? That’s why you’re so upset. Because people hate Dualists.”
“Don’t use that foul name! They say it as if they possess the one and only truth, when everything they believe is a lie. We are the Faithful.”
He took a deep shuddering breath. Nirel did too, in fear and wonder. She hadn’t quite believed it could be true. Yet now that he’d confirmed it, she wanted more than anything to understand what it meant. “Father, tell me. I want to know.”
He looked past her into the fire. For a long time he was silent, and Nirel was afraid he’d refuse. But finally he spoke, barely louder than a whisper. “My family was one of the last. For centuries our people kept to ourselves in the mountains, remaining true to the Lord of Justice, but little by little we died out. Folk drifted away, because the life was too hard, because the demands were too great. They were seduced by the promises of the wizards, the lure of their corrupt power, the easy weakness of their false beliefs. When I came of age to marry, there was no one for me among the few families that were left. It seemed the Lord of Justice had abandoned us. First my mother sickened and died, and then my father…”
He swallowed. “I thought it wouldn’t matter. I found your mother, and though she followed the wizards, their ways meant little to her. I thought it would make no difference, if I, too, drifted away. So I wed her, and tried to forget the heritage I’d betrayed.”
He glanced at Nirel. The naked grief on his face shocked her. She’d never seen him reveal his feelings this way. She didn’t dare make any response. If he closed up again, she’d never learn the truth. So she kept her expression as open and compassionate and interested as she could.
He turned back to the fire. “I tried to raise you right. I thought that would be enough. But it wasn’t. The Lord of Justice punished me for what I had done. For abandoning him, and marrying outside the faith, and failing to teach my children his ways.”
“Ilana,” Nirel breathed.
Kabos gripped her hands. “He cursed me with a deformed child. I tried to blame your mother, but I knew it was my sin that brought his judgement upon us. I knew that I’d been wrong, that the Lord of Justice ruled the universe as he always had. But it was too late for me. I’d abandoned him, and he’d cast me out of his presence. What did it matter if my children were taken away and my marriage bond broken? It was what I deserved.”
“But I didn’t let them take me away from you, Father.” Nirel caught his eyes and tried to drive the truth of her devotion into his heart.
He blinked. Slowly, he nodded. “The one great blessing of my life,” he whispered.
She swallowed, tears threatening to choke her throat and spill from her eyes. She plowed past the rising emotion. “And now we’ve come to a place with other Du—with other Faithful. They may be hated and persecuted and confined to their quarter of the city, but there are thousands of them. We can seek them out. You can do whatever it takes to regain the Lord of Justice’s favor. You can teach me his ways. If this is your faith, the faith of my ancestors, I want it to be mine, too.”
Kabos pulled back, though Nirel wouldn’t release his hands. “You don’t know what that means. You didn’t see how they treated them. Like animals. Worse than animals; at least animals have some value. I saw them burn the shrine. The lamps, the draperies, the sacred scrolls—all of it. As if it were a festering wound that must be cauterized with fire.”
“If they can do that to our people, then I want nothing more to do with them.”
“Even your new friend?” His lips twisted into a sneer. “A moment ago you were ready to throw yourself into their society, attend their balls, marry one of their handsome young men.”
Confusion swept over Nirel. What did she want? It seemed so clear, so bright in her heart. She wanted to seek out others of her own kind, learn about the faith that was her heritage, give herself to it fully. But a not long ago it had seemed equally clear that she wanted to enter Kevessa’s world of wealth and refinement. “Kevessa’s different. She doesn’t hate the Faithful. She made friends with one of them; she told me.” Though only one who had left the faith…
Kabos gave a derisive laugh. “Who would she stand with, if it came to a conflict? Don’t tell me you believe she’d go against her
father and her people. Gevan was as approving as the rest of them when that captain shot down a man who was only defending his family, and torched the shrine, and gave the orders to strip away the land of folk who had done nothing but seek to escape from oppression.”
Nirel didn’t want to admit that he was probably right. “It won’t come to a conflict. The Dual—the Faithful have dwelt peacefully in Ramunna for generations.”
“So they claim. Or maybe any rebellion has been suppressed so ruthlessly they can pretend it never existed.”
Nirel released his hands and climbed to her feet. “I think we should find out. You know the way to the Faithful quarter. We should go there tonight. We can seek out someone to tell us the truth about the Faithful in Ramunna.” She put her hands on her hips and stared challengingly at Kabos.
He gaped at her, taken aback. Then he shut his mouth and rose to face her. “It’s not safe for you. The city is dangerous at night.”
“I’ll be with you. Besides, you need me to translate. You haven’t learned enough Ramunnan to communicate yet.”
Kabos didn’t have an answer to that. He hesitated. Nirel was afraid he’d refuse, so she dropped her eyes and made her voice soft and meek and compliant. “Please, Father. I need to know. I need to learn who I really am.”
He breathed hard for a few minutes. At last he gave his head a sharp shake. “I’ll tell the guards Ozor wants us to go to the ship and make it ready for the move to its new berth.”
“Thank you, Father.” Nirel’s heart was racing. The idea of venturing into the nighttime city frightened her. But she’d never admit it to Kabos. “I’ll change clothes. I had the tailor make a riding skirt for me, too. We can ask for horses.”
“I’ll wait for you in the entry hall.” Kabos watched her hurry to her bedroom. As she shut her door behind her, she saw him spin on his heel and stride toward the door of their suite.
The Law of Isolation Page 18
