Molin deigned to acknowledge her. "Princess," he said with a nod. "Nevertheless, I am Lowan's closest surviving male relative. The fact is indisputable, and the law is the law."
Daphne, Dismas, Gestus, Leyn, Ouijen, and Dendur all crept forward until they stood in a semicircle on either side of Dayme. They were all tapping daggers on their palms now, and they were all grinning unpleasant little grins, winking at one another, and giving tiny provocative nods and suggestive tilts of the head to the garrison guards, who began casting nervous glances toward the open gate at their backs.
"When the Lady Chenaya is ready to discuss it," Dayme said, emphasizing her title this time, "I'm sure she'll send for you." He glanced meaningfully at his companions and back at Molin. "Meanwhile, occupation is nine-tenths of the law."
"And armed occupation is the other tenth," Daphne added, wearing her favorite smile again, the adult one.
Molin Torchholder knew the better pan of valor. "Very well," he said finally. "Give my niece my regards, and tell her I'll call on her again in three days' time in the hopes that she'll be feeling better. Meanwhile," he added, putting on a smile very much like Daphne's, "try not to damage or scratch anything." He spun about and motioned his escort out the gate.
The gladiators closed ranks around Dayme. "He's going to be trouble," Leyn said, watching the three departing men mount horses just beyond the gate.
"I could speak to Kadakithis," Daphne offered. Dayrne's mouth drew into a tight line. "No," he said finally. "Technically, Molin's right, and we can't hold him off forever. Sooner or later, Chenaya's going to have to deal with him. Where is she?"
Gestus answered in his fractured Rankene. "Sees Lady sunrise down by hers temple giving worship." He glanced up at the sky and shrugged his shoulders. "Precious no sun to worship lately."
Ouijen had more recent knowledge. "I saw her just a while ago in the aviary. She was feeding Reyk. I tell you, though, she looked like hell. I don't think she's slept or eaten for days."
"I'd better have a talk with her," Dayrne said. "Somebody close the gate." He let out a heavy breath and looked around suddenly. "And what are you all doing here? Who's running the training drills this morning? This is a school, remember?"
He left them then, and went to look for Chenaya. He would check the aviary out back in case she was still there with her pet falcon, but first, since it was closer, he'd check her room. In the main hall he started up the great staircase. Then, remembering Rashan, he happened to glance down the hallway to the peristyle and glimpsed his mistress just going through the doors. Dayrne turned and hurried after her.
A strange scene greeted him as he entered. Chenaya shot a look his way and swiftly closed her hand around something she'd been showing Rashan. The priest's face was white as a virgin's wedding sheets. He stared fearfully at Dayrne, as if he'd been caught in a criminal act.
Obviously, Dayrne had interrupted something, Chenaya walked a few paces away from the priest and tried to act nonchalant while she slipped something into a small bag that hung on a thong about her neck. Rashan licked his lips, his eyes darting every which way. Dayrne thought he looked like a mouse suddenly come face-to-face with a very big cat.
Dayrne was in no mood for games. "What is it, Cheyne?" he insisted. "What have you got there?"
Chenaya gave him a stubborn look and dropped the purse down the front of her tunic. Rashan wrung his hands. "I've got something to do," he said suddenly, and he headed toward the door.
Dayrne caught the priest's wrist as he tried to go past. "Oh, no you don't!" He gently but firmly pushed Rashan back. Then he turned again to Chenaya. "You've never kept anything from me, Cheyne, not since we were kids. Don't start now."
Chenaya bit her lip, her face mirroring some inner struggle. She clutched at the bag under her tunic, but her hand hesitated there, and she said nothing.
"Let me help, damn it!" Dayrne shouted suddenly. His frustration and worry built past the point of control. He wanted to reach out and rip the purse from her neck, or grab Chenaya and shake her, or, gods help him, just wrap his arms around her and hold her close until she broke down and told him everything. That last, he knew, would never happen.
Chenaya gave him a doubtful look. Dark circles ringed her puffy eyes, and her cheeks were gaunt. Dayrne realized then that she had not even taken off the armor she had worn last night. Even her garments were the same.
He met her gaze, and this time his eyes did the pleading.
It was enough. Slowly, Chenaya pulled out the purse again and poured the huge diamond into her open palm for him to see. It drew the weak light in the room like a sponge and gave off fantastic flashes of fire in exchange. Dayrne caught his breath.
"It's called the Fire in God's Eye," Rashan said in a worried voice as he came to join them. He lifted his own hand over the stone, as if warming his fingers before a fire. Tiny dazzling points of light reflected on his skin. "There's another jewel just like it," he continued in a bare whisper. "A twin. Sometimes, they're called the Savankala's Eyes, because they're mounted in the holy sunburst in the great Temple in Ranke."
Dayrne had heard of the stones, of course. He looked incredulously at Chenaya. "You stole it?"
She nodded slowly.
"Just the one," he pressed, "or both of them?"
She tapped the diamond with a finger, indicating just the one jewel.
"And this has something to do with why you can't or won't speak?" he asked again, and again she nodded.
Dayme began to pace. He was doing a lot of that lately, it seemed. He knew of the stones, but he'd never seen them. Until recently, he'd never been much of a god worshipper, and he'd never been in the Great Temple at Ranke. He turned to Rashan as Chenaya put the diamond back into its purse once again. A sudden suspicion flared up within him. "What do you know about this?" he said to the priest. "You're Savankala's high holy-holy in this city. Is this why she left Sanctuary? Did you send her to steal this?"
Rashan wrung his hands, and he gave Dayme a look of pained offense. "No! No!" he protested. "I wouldn't have dared! She didn't say a word to me before she left town!"
Dayrne caught the priest by the sleeve. "Then why was she showing it to you?"
Angrily, Chenaya knocked Dayrne's hand away from Rashan, and she stepped between them. Then her expression softened, and she eased the priest back toward a marble bench and motioned for him to sit.
Rashan folded his hands in his lap to keep them still. "Each jewel is invested with a portion of Savankala's power," the priest went on in a rush. "They were the god's own gift to the Rankan nation, given generations ago when the Empire was young, as His personal sign of divine favor."
"They're magic?" Dayrne grumbled. He turned to Chenaya again. "Then you are cursed?"
She shook her head violently.
"Maybe this will help." Daphne sauntered into the room, bearing a flat, brown box, which, when its hinged lid was opened, exposed a smooth sheet of soft, wax tallow, and a delicate bone stylus. She offered these to Chenaya, along with a smile of welcome. The two women exchanged embraces and stood apart again. "Just because she can't talk doesn't mean you can't still get some answers." She continued lightly. "Personally, I think I prefer her this way."
Chenaya ignored Daphne, took the wax tablet, and began to write in the soft substance with the point of the stylus. A moment later, she showed the box to Rashan. It was not writing at all, but a drawing of a sunburst.
Daphne raised an eyebrow. "She's no Lalo," she commented.
The priest peered closely at the wax. "The holy sunburst in Ranke," he said, squinting.
Chenaya shook her head and drew the symbol for Sanctuary beneath the sunburst. Then she pulled the purse from around her neck. Without removing the diamond, she thrust it down in the center of her drawing.
Rashan's face turned a new shade of pale. "Mount it in our sunburst?" he exclaimed with sudden comprehension. "This is stolen! God would strike me dead and destroy the temple!"
Chenaya sh
ook her head emphatically and scrawled on the tablet. His permission.
The priest's expression underwent a slow transformation. His eyes filled with a queer light, and he rose to his feet. "You've accepted it, then. You've spoken with Him again." He reached out and grasped Chenaya by the shoulders. "You are truly the Daughter of the Sun!"
Dayrne watched as Chenaya's face crinkled with irritation and she brushed the priest's hands away. It was an old argument between Rashan and Cheyne. It was no secret that Chenaya was favored by the Bright Father, but the priest had been possessed of a strange fanaticism for some time now that she was, in fact, the sun-god's true daughter. Rashan had even tried to convince Dayrne, and with the help of an even stranger painting, which hung in Chenaya's rooms, he'd almost succeeded.
Chenaya rubbed the heel of her palm over the wax surface, wiping away the old markings, smoothing it again for more writing. With hasty precision, she carved two smaller sunbursts side by side. Under one, she put the symbol for Sanctuary. Under the other, the symbol for Ranke. Then she wrote, Savankala's will.
Rashan's face transformed. His look of worry turned to determination and excitement. "One in Ranke, and one in Sanctuary," he cried. "Then we must do it immediately." He spun toward Dayrne, gesticulating, his hands aflutter. "This explains the sky of late," he said, "Savankala has risked much to send us this prize. This jewel has traveled without the proper consecrations. Until it is safely mounted in His temple, He is half blind." He touched Daphne's arm as if the two of them were close friends, something the princess would have adamantly denied. "It's just as I've suspected recently. One by one, the gods are turning away from Ranke."
"But why can't she speak?" Dayme said insistently. "What's this jewel to do with that?"
Chenaya bit her lip, and the stylus remained still above the wax tablet, though her gaze nickered over all their faces, imploring.
Finally, Daphne tilted her head and shrugged. "A girl's just got to have her secrets." She went to Chenaya and took her by the arm. "At least, let me clean you up and get some food down you while Rashan makes his preparations," she suggested with her usual sarcastic lilt. "I know priests and priestly ways. Something this important will take at least a week."
Chenaya looked genuinely frightened. Frantically, she scrawled across the tablet. Tomorrow. It was the only symbol she made, and she drew it again for emphasis- Tomorrow.
A platter of cold roast pork, the two turnips, and bits of cheese and bread had lifted Chenaya's spirits considerably. The mug of milk laced lightly with amber-colored vuksebah, a very expensive liquor, had done even more. She couldn't quite remember when she had eaten last. Sometime in Ranke before she'd stolen the jewel, she assumed. Once that was in her possession, she'd ridden hard for Sanctuary, killing one horse on the way, avoiding all towns, stopping at one noble's isolated estate long enough to sign her desire to buy another mount, There'd been no time for eating, and little to drink,
A serving woman, under Daphne's orders, had brought the food to Chenaya's rooms, and that had surprised Chenaya. Except for Aunt Rosanda, Daphne, and herself, there had never been any women at Land's End. Daphne, apparently, had taken it on herself to change that.
There were just over a hundred men on the estate now. Someone had to launder their clothes and do the cooking and marketing.
Daphne had mentioned hastily that, in Chenaya's absence, she had shared some adventure with the poor women who sold their bodies in the Promise of Heaven for coins to feed their children and to keep some kind of hovel's roof over their heads. With her own money, which was quite plentiful thanks to her settlement with the prince, Daphne had hired some of those women, taken them out of the park, and given them decent jobs as household staff.
Chenaya wasn't about to object. Two of those women had just bathed her and dried her with soft towels and combed out her tangled hair. She felt better than she had in days as she dressed in a clean white chiton, fastened her broad leather belt about her waist, and laced on a pair of sandals. That done, she fastened her short sword to the belt, and hung the small bag containing the diamond around her neck once more.
Fed and dressed, she started to leave her rooms. Near the door, though, hung the painting of her, which Lalo the Limner had executed. She stopped before it, feeling the arcane heat that radiated from it, staring at an idealized image of her face with shining blond hair that swept outward and upward and became flame. It had been this portrait and what it portended that had driven her, half mad, from Sanctuary, that, and the very unpleasant ending to her business with Zip and the PFLS.
Only, it hadn't been an ending. She had fallen in love with Zip while setting her trap for the piffles, and instead of killing him when she should have, she'd saved him for prison, instead, and turned him over to Walegrin. Devious were the minds of Sanctuary's politicians, however, and somehow, with her gone, Zip had been released and made one of the city's military commanders, along with Walegrin and Critias. No doubt, she had Uncle Molin to thank for that. And Kadakithis, once her favorite cousin, could not be held unaccountable, either.
They all had played their part in Lowan Vigeles's death. Ro-Karthis was not the only one who had cut her father's throat. Zip, Walegrin, Uncle Molin, Kadakithis. Not one of them was innocent.
She brushed her fingertips gingerly over the portrait. The paint and canvas were warm, almost too hot to touch. It had frightened her that night, watching Lalo, at her insistence, paint it. It had terrified her. His particular magic had revealed the truth she had been unwilling to accept, that she was bound body and spirit to the sun-god. In her fear, she had fled like an unreasoning child.
Seven months had changed that. She clutched the jewel called the Fire in God's Eye, without taking it from its bag. There were more changes yet to come, changes for her and changes for Sanctuary. But first, she had to survive another night, and she feared, for she could feel herself weakening. More than anything, she wanted to sleep.
But she had to check on Rashan and his progress at the temple. When the diamond was safe in a consecrated mounting, then she could rest, then she could moum her father and Aunt Rosanda properly, then she could contemplate a new direction for her life.
She left her rooms and passed through the upper hallways, refusing to let herself even glance toward the door to her father's rooms, putting his death out of her mind for now. She went downstairs, nodding curtly to a pair of unfamiliar women who smiled at her from their work in the kitchen, and stepped out into the rear grounds near the aviary. There were a dozen cages there, each home to a fine raptor, and a large cabinet built on a post, which contained bells, jesses, and proper gloves for handling such birds.
Chenaya took a thick leather glove and a jess from the cabinet and went to Reyk's cage. The falcon fluttered its magnificent wings in greeting as it climbed onto her arm, and she slipped the less onto its right leg. Reyk was excited to see her and he flexed his talons in the glove's quilted leather. They'd been apart too long, she and this bird.
From the aviary she could see the training fields. Scores of men were hard at work on the great wooden machines and in the sand pits. Beyond were the old, hastily built barracks, no longer in use. Beyond that rose the private wall that encircled Land's End. Opposite the training field, against the southern wall, were the stables. She headed there at a brisk walk.
A large man, unfamiliar to her, bowed when she approached. "Lady Chenaya," he said in a gruff but courteous voice. "You honor us." She nodded and gave him a brief smile, the only response she could make. He had the look of an experienced stablemaster, and she assumed Dayrne had found him somewhere. Indeed, the stables were as clean as any part of Land's End. Fresh straw had been laid, and the horses stood contentedly in their stalls.
With the stablemaster in tow, she went to the stall where her big gray stood. He had been well groomed this morning, and his mane had been freshly clipped close to his neck. He had carried her well the past few days. Chenaya led him from the stall by his halter and informed the
stable master through hand signals that she wanted him saddled. He fastened a lead to the halter and led the gray toward the tack room.
Chenaya wandered toward the far end of the stables, where those horses were kept that were either too young or not properly broken for riding. There she found the colt that she had such hopes for, the product of a god-blessed union between Lowan's snow-white mare and Tempus's full-blooded Tros horse. She gazed at the young animal with pleased wonderment. Its coat was a golden color she had never seen before, its mane and tail flaxen. It had the Tros fire in its eyes.
"He grows rapidly, mistress. I've never seen one like him."
Reyk's wings beat the air, and he gave off a shrill cry of menace. Chenaya had not heard the stablemaster come up behind her. The man stepped quickly back, eyes widening, bringing a hand up to ward off an attack. Chenaya grinned to herself. He knew a lot about horses, that much was plain, but he had a lot to learn about birds and how to approach them. She gazed toward the stable entrance. The gray stood saddled and ready for her.
There would be time later, she hoped, to play with the colt, but there was business to attend to now. She calmed Reyk by stroking the crown of his head with delicate touches. Perhaps she should have hooded him this morning, but she never hooded him. He was just excited to see her.
The stablemaster hurried along ahead of her and set down a step stool so she could mount the gray with Reyk on her arm. When she was settled in the saddle, she leaned down far enough to touch the stablemaster's shoulder. It was the only thanks she could offer. Then she turned the horse from the stable and waited while he opened the southern gate for her and closed it after.
Chenaya looked at Reyk and stroked his head again. Ready for some exercise, pet? she thought silently. She made an upward motion with her arm, letting go of the jess at the same time, and Reyk soared upward. She watched him as he circled higher and higher in the slate-gray sky. Then she started off, knowing he would follow.
Stealers' Sky tw-12 Page 20
