by Glenda Larke
She had rarely felt so miserable. Now it was time to put their plan into practice, she was appalled at their temerity. This can’t work. We’re mad. And if they failed, the consequences were unthinkable. Worse still, in the days since she had met him again, she had been seeing a side of Shale she had never seen before. He had grown, leaving her behind. He was a cloudmaster; she was still a snuggery girl striving to find her place in a world that wanted no part of her.
I expected too much, she thought sadly. There was a time when we were beginning to fall in love, I know there was. He was too shy to talk about it then, and now it’s too late. It wasn’t her fault, or his either. It was just the way life was for a stormlord.
He turned away, asking for pen and paper. He and Iani stepped into the guardhouse to use the table there. Terelle stayed outside with Ouina and Feroze. Ouina glowered at her.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Ouina said suddenly. “You’re a distraction to him, and this is no time for distractions.”
Behind Ouina’s back, Feroze pulled a face. “I guess she’s scared,” he said to Terelle, his voice pitched just loud enough for Ouina to hear. “Nervy people get that way sometimes.”
Terelle stifled a giggle.
“Now perhaps is the time to pray,” he added.
“Thanks to you, I’m not sure I believe in the Sunlord anymore.”
“God exists, Terelle. He just wasn’t what you thought.”
“Why should your God be any more real than the Sunlord? Perhaps you are just as deceived.”
“We have written records,” he protested, “going back to the time when God walked among us.”
“How do you worship your God?” Ouina asked, her eyebrows snapped together into a thunderous line. She uncorked her water skin and ostentatiously poured a libation onto the ground to honor the Sunlord.
“Not by wasting water,” Feroze said mildly. “We have a daily act of worship. Each day, we do one act of deliberate kindness outside our normal routine. Helping someone less fortunate than ourselves in some way, not necessarily with money. That is our form of worship. The recipient knows he or she is participating in the giver’s worship and is therefore also blessed. And as for our prayers, we can pray wherever and whenever we want. Prayers of thanks or forgiveness, prayers for wisdom in our actions. Which is the one I am going to be performing now.” He closed his eyes and bowed his head. Ouina edged away as if she thought he was defiling the air around him.
She doesn’t like me, Terelle thought. And yet she scarcely knows me. It’s because someone told her I was a Watergiver by birth, and that sounds sacrilegious. I wish the lords of Khromatis called themselves something else…
She turned her thoughts away to the more practical plans she and Shale had rehearsed—and sighed. There was so much scope for things to go wrong. It’s all very well for him. He just gets to die if this fails. I’ll be the one that has to live, knowing it was all my fault, knowing I could have killed Taquar simply by painting him dead.
If Shale died, Taquar would be alive and she would have to face him alone. She remembered his touch and, in the heat of the sun, she shivered.
Laisa stood on the balcony, looking at the sky. The message was fraying away at the edges, teased into nothingness. Waterless hell, she thought. He’s so strong he thinks nothing of wasting water.
“Mother, you made a mistake. A big mistake.” Senya, sitting on the balcony divan, glared at her. “Taquar is doomed. He can’t stay walled up in this place forever. But you married him. So now we’re stuck here, and Jasper’s out there somewhere with an army of barbarians. We could all be killed.”
Laisa swallowed her ire at Senya’s childishness and said calmly, “If there is one thing Jasper won’t do, it’s kill you. He’s sensible enough to know the two of you have to marry eventually.”
“Does he have to marry me? One of those Gibber grubber children you brought out of the Gibber shows promise of being a rainlord. Taquar told me that. He heard she’s over in Pediment.”
Laisa frowned. She knew that, but she wondered just what he was up to, telling Senya. “You have bedded the silly young man, so you have the advantage, or at least I hope you have. I trust you were pleasant enough to make an impression. Is there any chance you are pregnant?”
Senya looked sulky and said evasively, “It’s too early to say.”
Before Laisa could point out that was hardly true, they were interrupted. Taquar strode into the room, carrying a letter in one hand. Laisa scanned his face, looking for some signs of tension, and found them, as obvious as the element of sardonic amusement lurking in his gaze.
“There has been a more normal communication from the Gibber grubber,” he said. “Delivered by a guard. Jasper is inside the city, with a portion of his ragtag army, and he wants to fight me in single combat.” He laughed.
Laisa looked at him in disbelief. “He wants to what?”
“You heard me.”
She was puzzled. “Using water-powers? He knows you won’t accept such a challenge. He would win with his head stuck in the sand. He’s a stormlord and you’re a rainlord. Although he might find it hard to kill you using water-powers.”
“Even I can hold onto my water,” Senya said.
They both ignored her. “It wouldn’t be so very one-sided,” he said. “I am a very skilled rainlord, and he is a weak stormlord.”
Involuntarily Laisa glanced up at the sky. “That last has escaped my notice lately.”
Taquar snorted. “He’s only making clouds with help. I’m sure that’s the case. But irrelevant, anyway. He’s offered to fight with swords. The winner gets to state his unconditional terms afterward. If the loser is still alive.”
Senya laughed and clapped her hands. “Swords? You’ll win then!”
Laisa’s eyebrows shot up. “It’s a trap. He can’t possibly expect to defeat you in a duel, even if Nealrith did insist on lessons and your guards have been tutoring him since. All that amounts to nothing against your experience.”
“Perhaps he thinks that is enough. You told me Kaneth said the lad was good.”
“Good for the amount of training he had, yes. But it still wasn’t much. And he’s not stupid. He knows there’s a difference between being a good student and being a good bladesman. This has got to be a trick to get close enough to use his water-powers.”
“Possibly. At first I thought he just wanted to get me outside the walls where he might have an archer to pick me off. So I sent back a reply, saying it had to be the hall forecourt. He can bring a few witnesses. Everyone except himself to be unarmed. I made the same concession—no armed guards on the walls or with me. He has answered saying that would be acceptable only if you, Laisa, went out first and could guarantee he would not be attacked—by ziggers or anything else. He wants you to give him that assurance first.”
“He’s mad. Even if I said that and thought I was being honest, what guarantee has he that I know what you intend?”
“You’re my wife. He’s going to take you hostage. I think he’s assuming that will make a difference to my integrity.” He chuckled.
She glared. “Maybe he’s just stupidly romantic enough to believe that, but I suspect Iani is there at his shoulder to disabuse him of that notion. Anyway, it still doesn’t tell us what the trap is.”
“No. It has to be something to do with his water-powers, because that’s the only advantage he has. But what? And how can I thwart it? I certainly have enough power to stop him throwing water at me or stuffing it down my throat! Yet somehow I don’t think he intends obvious treachery—a hidden bowman, for example. He has an odd idea of honor, for a start. Yes, an interesting conundrum.”
“You’re not going to accept this challenge, are you?”
“What choice do I have? My guards have already opened the city gates to him.”
“What about Davim?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It might be weeks before he arrives. I sent for him because I envisaged Jasper mounting a siege, and I
would have weeks. I did not think my own guard would turn on me. I was hoping all the disloyal ones had already left. I was over-optimistic, I will admit.”
“Jasper will be scared of what you can do with the ziggers. You could still hole up here on Level Two and wait to be rescued.”
“That did cross my mind. I did think of using the ziggers to kill as many of them as I could, and too bad if the nation’s only stormlord was among them. I had lost anyway—might as well take them all with me.” He reached out and cupped her chin, smiling unpleasantly. “My pretty wife and step-daughter included.”
“You’re sandcrazy.”
“No. Just vengeful. But I think perhaps that Gibber brat has my measure very well. He has presented me with a challenge. He knows I can’t resist because what he proposes also presents me with a chance, just a chance, that I can still win. And he has to take that risk, because if he does not, I will loose five thousand ziggers into the streets of Scarcleft the moment he attacks the walls of Scarcleft Hall.”
“It’s a pretty problem for you, isn’t it?” Laisa said, lacing her words with sarcasm. “If you win and kill him, then you also lose because the nation’s one and only stormlord will be dead. If you win and somehow regain control over him, the problem will be how to maintain that control.”
“He can kill me, yet I can’t dispatch him to the hell he deserves for his insolence. But if I can win without killing him, I can turn Jasper’s value to my own advantage. If I put a sword to his throat his allies will back off. It is probably one reason he has conceived this plan. He knows no matter what, he will not die.” Taquar snorted his contempt. “He owes me everything, the ungrateful little sand-tick. I taught him. I rescued him from an abusive father. He was half-starved, beaten, ill-clad, illiterate and didn’t even know he had power. He owes everything to me. What he doesn’t know is that I have one piece of gold to offer him, and it is irresistible. If I win, I have him forever.”
Senya looked from one to the other, her eyes bright with interest.
Laisa looked dubious. “I have no idea what you contemplate.”
He turned to look at Senya. “Go to your room, girl. Make yourself look pretty. You have a fight to witness and I need you to look your best.”
After Senya left, Laisa asked, puzzled, “She can’t be your piece of gold, surely? Jasper regards marriage to her as an unpleasant task he has to undertake, rather than a jewel in his future.”
“I am aware of that.” Taquar bent toward her, dropping his voice. “This is the last game, Laisa. And then we will see if you chose the right player, eh?” He kissed her on the lips, holding her chin firmly so she could not turn away. When he released her, he added, “And I think—before I answer this latest missive—I shall partake of my wife’s charms. It has been a while and I cannot say the last of the kitchen maids appeals.”
Laisa was more resigned than pleased.
The small door in the main gate to Scarcleft Hall opened and Laisa walked out, as cool and as beautiful as ever. She walked alone across the square in front of the hall and down the steps into Temple Street on Level Three. Here, out of sight of any of the hall windows, Jasper waited with Iani, Ouina, Feroze, Terelle and a mix of Scarcleft guards, Gibbermen and Alabasters. Lord Gold hovered behind in full ceremonial garb, accompanied by a bevy of nervous waterpriests.
When Laisa reached Jasper, she knelt at his feet and said, without the slightest emotion, “Lord Laisa Drayman asks for forgiveness for past transgressions and pledges loyalty to the Cloudmaster, Jasper Bloodstone.”
Jasper nodded and held out a hand to raise her to her feet. “Can you offer any proof of your change of heart?”
“Hardly. I can tell you Taquar will fight you, but does not intend to cause your death. He believes you intend to trick him, but he doesn’t know how.”
“So he doesn’t intend to attack me with ziggers the moment I set foot inside the hall?”
“Not to my knowledge. He wants to win by legal means. Before the fight begins, he wants you to proclaim in front of witnesses his legal right to rule the Scarpen as Cloudmaster if he wins. Administrative ruler, separate from the position of stormlord.”
“If said stormlord is still alive,” Jasper said dryly.
She inclined her head. “He can’t kill the only stormlord, as you well know.”
“Your allegiance is accepted. As for the rest—we will see. I expected Senya to be with you.”
“Taquar insisted she stay.”
“As hostage for your lies, perhaps?” These words came from Iani.
“And it’s lovely to see you again, too,” Laisa said.
“He has a point,” Jasper said.
She shrugged. “She will be there, watching the combat. Taquar did not ask me to lie. I do not think he saw the need for lies—he is certain he will win this fight, no matter what trick you have in mind.”
“I am relying on his certainty,” Jasper said with a smile. “Let’s get on with this.”
He turned to the other two rainlords. “Iani, you are in charge here. If I don’t come back, do what you will. Laisa will stay here. Ouina, you will come with me as witness. So will Terelle. Dibble, I want two Gibbermen and two Alabasters and two Scarpen guards with me, all unarmed. Half-Overman Wendel—you will take orders from Rainlord Iani if anything happens to me.”
“I demand to go with you.”
Jasper turned, surprised at the imperious tone. Lord Gold. He might have known it. “Pardon?”
“I am the Quartern Sunpriest. And a rainlord. The people in the hall, Lord Taquar included, are all part of my flock. I have more right to be there than her.” He nodded coldly at Terelle.
“I doubt that Taquar would be happy to find I was taking two rainlords with me.”
“Then leave Lord Ouina behind.”
Jasper glanced at Ouina. She shrugged, as if to say the priest had a point.
“It is also my duty to make sure Lord Senya is not harmed,” Lord Gold added.
“No one is going to harm Senya,” Jasper growled, but he capitulated anyway. “Very well, take Ouina’s place. Iani, be ready to enter the moment the gates are opened afterward.” He shouldered the bag containing Terelle’s painting things and his own water skin. “Let’s go.”
As he and Terelle walked quickly across the open square toward the hall gate, putting some distance between them and the others so they could speak privately, Terelle said in a small voice, “I can’t believe this will work.” She held her painting tray and her water skin far too tightly; her knuckles were white.
Jasper noticed and touched her arm in comfort. “It will. I know how to unbalance Taquar, and he’s going to be looking in all the wrong directions for the trick.”
“What if he has heard about the magic of waterpainting?”
“How? No one in the Scarpen knows. Waterless skies; Terelle, they used to ask Russet to paint artworks for their entrance hallways! No one dreamed there could be anything strange about it.”
“They knew about it in the White Quarter.”
“But you yourself said they don’t talk about these things to outsiders. Don’t worry, everything will be fine.”
“You are the only stormlord: do you have the right to risk yourself this way?” He heard the love in her voice and it almost unmanned him. You have to marry a rainlord, he told himself. You have to.
He faced her then, allowing nothing to show on his face, stopping in front of the gate. “I am so fed up with people telling me I must not risk myself. Have you any idea what it is like to know every person in this nation depends on me for life? I am risking my life for them—and they have to be prepared to die, just as I am. If I don’t subdue Taquar, rainlords and stormlords and Gibber folk will never be safe from him. If I confront him in battle or siege, he will loose his ziggers on this city and on those who have followed me here. I know that. He knows that. I cannot compromise, hide myself and say it’s fine if a few thousand people die because most of the people of Scarpen will live. Do
you understand, Terelle? I will rule this land my way, or I won’t rule at all. It is the only way I can live. In the long run it is the only way we can all live.”
Even as he said the words, the gate opened. He turned away from her worry and walked inside.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Scarpen Quarter
Scarcleft City
Scarcleft Hall, Level 2
Taquar could not hide his surprise at seeing Terelle.
Jasper smiled to himself, knowing he had scored a small victory just by having her there. He uttered no greeting, nor did he allow the highlord time to collect himself. “I have brought Lord Gold along as a witness,” he said. His heart was thundering in his chest and only total concentration could keep him outwardly calm.
He looked around as he handed Terelle her painting bag. Two of Taquar’s guards were closing the gate again. The only other men of Taquar’s he could see were the Overman of the Scarcleft Guard, Seneschal Tallyman and two more guardsmen. None of them appeared to be armed and Jasper could neither smell nor sense any ziggers. The only other person from the hall was Senya, who smiled brightly at him as though she was delighted to see him. He gave her a brusque nod and dismissed her from his mind.
“You have something to say, I believe?” Taquar reminded him.
“Ah, yes. If I am defeated at your hands here today, I will recognize you as the Cloudmaster, the legitimate administrative ruler of the Quartern, while I work as the stormlord.”
Behind Taquar, the overman and Seneschal Tallyman exchanged glances.
Taquar drawled, “I have been the legitimate Cloudmaster since Granthon’s death, and you know it.”
“Disputable,” Jasper said. “And irrelevant.”
“Irrelevant, at least.” Taquar frowned in Terelle’s direction. “What are you doing?”
She was filling a water tray she had placed at one edge of the forecourt. He had to repeat the question before she realized she was being addressed. “Jasper wishes there to be a painted record of what happens here,” she replied, without looking at him. Her voice shook. “Should you win, doubtless it will be yours to dispose of, however you will.”
