“Hello there, are you a collector?” Aldano asked, suddenly noticing Father Portus.
Father Portus cleared his throat. “An appreciator,” said Sasha, smiling.
“Of course you are, of course! Tell me, sir, have you ever seen as fine a pair of breasts as these? And what an arse! Have you ever seen as fine an arse?” He slapped the statue on the backside. Father Portus looked as though he'd swallowed something the wrong way.
“Every time I look back,” said Sasha. Aldano roared with laughter, and slapped his thigh. “Only better…look, look, your women, Aldano…they all sag.” She gestured with a hand, across one stone hip. “This is formless, all…all soft and pudgy.”
“I believe the term is ‘womanly,’” quipped Aldano, highly amused.
“No! No, you live on the dockside of Petrodor, you have all these serrin women around, and Nasi-Keth like me-”
“Very few Nasi-Keth like you, dear Sasha.”
“Look! Look at this!” Sasha pulled up her shirt to expose her midriff. Father Portus nearly toppled over. “Do you see this? Six equal portions. Flat and hard, and accentuates the line, here, to the hip, and the thigh…” She indicated, but not quite at the point of having to remove more clothes. “Now look at her.” Indicating the statue. “Shapeless, no form or tone of muscle, nothing. You have the frame right, but there's nothing on her bones.”
“You'd rather I did her as a man?” said Aldano with consternation.
“No!” Sasha nearly laughed for sheer exasperation. “This is exactly my point…this is womanly, Aldano! I am a woman and this is what I look like!”
“You're an amazon!” Aldano protested.
“So do a statue of an amazon! That's what you can call it! ‘Amazon with a Sword’! You've…you've done gods, and muscular heroes, and old men, and young boys…all these different types of men…why aren't women allowed to come in different types too? Some women look like this, sure…but why do they all have to look like this?”
Aldano looked at her for a long moment, unconvinced. “I'd be laughed at,” he said reproachfully.
“You'd be the first!” Sasha retorted. “You'd be original! No one would have seen anything like it!”
That caught the young sculptor's attention. Everyone wanted to be at the forefront of the new trends in Petrodor. “You would pose for me?” Aldano asked. “If I did this?”
“Of course! If I can find the time, and if the gods don't sink Petrodor into the sea for its many sins.”
Aldano laughed. “Oh, but carving is all about sin, dear Sasha! It is all form, and shape, and my hands all over your body, feeling its curves, testing its firmness…” Sasha only grinned, enjoying the teasing. With Aldano, that was all it was.
She found a quiet space behind several rough, uncarved blocks of stone as Aldano took up his chisel once more. “Young lady,” said Father Portus, somewhat grimly, “I do fear for your soul. You should seek absolution.”
“I am a Lenay pagan, Father Portus,” Sasha told him. “I don't need your absolution.” Father Portus seemed to swallow whatever he was going to say next. He was a tallish man with a homely face, a large nose and a narrow chin within a thin white beard. “Now of what did you wish to speak with me?”
Thunder rumbled outside, a long echo beneath the high ceiling. Father Portus looked about, but there was no one to see them hidden behind the stone blocks. “I carry a message from your sister Marya,” he said in a low voice.
Sasha blinked at him. “Marya sent…Why?”
“She fears that you were right about her family. She knows that her husband had Father Gilbrato Halmady killed. There is tension between Halmady and Steiner. Steiner suspects Halmady of plotting against them. Now, some of Halmady's key allies are meeting with accidents, particularly within the priesthood. Everyone blames the old enemy Maerler, but not everyone believes it. Father Andrel Tirini is missing, and Father Jon Amano has fallen down some stairs and is yet to wake. I am an old friend of your sister's. She fears I may be next, like my nephew Randel. I ask for your help, in her name.”
Sasha took a deep breath and wiped sweat from her brow. She took a sip from her waterskin, needing the time to think. Conflict between Steiner and Steiner's closest ally, Patachi Halmady. It did not seem likely that Halmady was seriously plotting anything. Kessligh thought it was Rhillian's work, sowing seeds of suspicion between the two, weakening Petrodor's strongest alliance from within. She'd used Randel Ragini's interest in things serrin to form a relationship with him, thus making Steiner suspect all of Family Ragini, and all of Halmady too, by connection. Halmady and Ragini remained close. Circles within circles, as ever in Petrodor. Had Rhillian truly set up poor Randel for the fall? She didn't want to think about that right now.
Father Portus Ragini. One priest per family, sometimes two for big families. Portus was Family Ragini's representative in the Porsada Temple. So why would Steiner, or anyone, want to start killing priests?
“The priesthood is supposed to be neutral,” she said. “It's only useful to get rid of priests if they're planning something. What's going on up in that damn temple, anyway?”
“Dear girl,” said Portus with irritable temper, “you really must watch your language! If I knew why my life was in danger, I would hardly need your help, would I?”
Sasha folded her arms, unconvinced. “And what could I do to help?”
“Meet again with your sister. She is wife to the heir of Steiner. She has access to information and she says she knows what the killings are in aid of.”
“And she'd tell me?” Sasha did not know whether to believe it.
“You are her sister.”
“I'm her crazy pagan sister. I've no doubt she loves me, but love and trust are two different things entirely.” She narrowed her eyes at the priest. “You say she sent you? Prove it.”
The fishing boat of Family Darno was somewhat larger than most and had a covered hold. Sasha and Kessligh sat on benches near the bow, above a pile of bundled nets and folded sails. Rain thundered on the wooden roof as a light chop rocked them from side to side against the moorings. Outside, Darno men prepared nets, stowed rigging and made ready for the afternoon run, in hopes that the weather might clear.
“He knew all about it,” she said to Kessligh. “I don't know how he could have known if Marya hadn't told him.”
“Krystoff's exploits were common enough knowledge in Lenayin,” said Kessligh, unconvinced. “Anyone could know that.”
“Not that incident, and not with that detail,” said Sasha, shaking her head. “And not my part in it. I found the girl in Krystoff's chambers, Krystoff sent me out and I told Marya about it. Marya explained some things to me, and I wasn't so angry with Krystoff for sending me out then. Father Portus recited it in detail.”
Kessligh made a face and glanced at the hold doorway. Beyond, men were bailing water overboard in the downpour. “Your memory's amazing.”
“I remember everything about Krystoff,” Sasha said faintly. “Everything.”
Kessligh frowned at her. “You were more angry with him for sending you out of his chambers than for bedding some courtly slut?”
Sasha shrugged. “I didn't know what they were doing. Krystoff only explained that to me later. I was just mad that he preferred her company to mine. And you shouldn't use that language about her, whatever she did. I've been hearing that talk from too many Torovan men, and I'm sick of it.”
“Petrodor's not growing on you, I see,” Kessligh observed wryly.
“It was,” Sasha said. “It was, then it stopped.” No one had resolved the dispute with Liam. No one seemed to truly believe his claims about her swordwork, but it made little difference. People sided with him, or with her and Kessligh, based upon their previous inclinations. Liam's defiance was a symbol, and the facts counted for nothing. Sasha hated it. What could a person do when others cared nothing for facts? Her credibility, and thus Kessligh's, was at stake, and yet there remained no recourse. In Lenayin, such lies and accusa
tions were a lethal offence, trialled by lethal means. Sasha could not see how a society such as the good and honest one the Nasi-Keth were trying to build here in Petrodor could survive if truth had no recourse, and thus no value. It made her doubt if there was anything in Petrodor worth fighting for. Anything besides Kessligh, that was. And the serrin, Rhillian and Errollyn in particular.
Liam had moved out of the Velo household and travelled with Alaine's group these days. Some others who had followed Kessligh now did the same. Kessligh's following shrank, and some of those Sasha saw would not speak to her. Lately, when not helping Family Velo earn a living, she'd spent more time with the serrin. Errollyn seemed angry and disillusioned too. Of Rhillian, there'd been little sign.
“I don't like it,” said Kessligh. “It might be a trap. You might go there to find Marya and discover a hundred Steiner soldiers instead.”
“On that cliff? There's no way to hide from our approaches, we can scout the area in advance. Kessligh, she was concerned. I think she might have even been scared of what she'd married into.”
“I don't see how someone as smart as your sister could live in that household for any period and not grasp what her beloveds do for a living,” Kessligh said bluntly.
“The way men treat women in this city?” Sasha retorted. “She's little more than a servant, she does what she's told, she raises the children…Marya's never been political, she was never interested in which lords were doing what things to whom…”
“You were six when she married,” Kessligh reminded her.
“Yes, but I used to talk with Krystoff about her, she was Krystoff's friend too.”
“And you were only eight when Krystoff died.”
“And my memory is amazing, you said it yourself.” Kessligh exhaled hard. “I know her, Kessligh,” Sasha insisted. “I know her well. It wouldn't surprise me at all if she didn't have a clue the way her family go about business in this city. Look, she's very devout, I remember that very well, the only times I recall enjoying temple services were with her, she'd take my hand and explain all the devotions as we went, and who all the saints and gods were, and I'd think that if Marya thought it was important, then I'd do it just to please her. Someone's killing priests. If it's her family that's involved…she'd be horrified, Kessligh. Father Portus says she's his friend. What if she's scared for him? Who could she turn to? Not her own family, obviously. Not Maerler, that's treason, and she's too loyal.”
“Halmady,” Kessligh suggested. “They're supposed to be allies.”
“And right now that might be considered treason too.” Kessligh made a face as if conceding the point. “Or proof that Halmady really are plotting something against Steiner, with Marya their first recruit within Steiner walls. Who can help? I'm Nasi-Keth, but I'm also her sister. Nasi-Keth can sneak into all sorts of places, and the docks could be a refuge for priests whose lives are in danger-they'd be safe here, even fat-bellied Porsada Temple blue-bloods. They might be high-slopers, but they're priests, and-” Boom! a nearby thunderclap cut her short. Sasha swore as men outside cursed and laughed. “Damn I hate lightning.”
“That's because you're superstitious,” Kessligh said unhelpfully, having barely flinched.
“And,” Sasha resumed her train of thought, “dockfront labourers are Verenthanes too. They'd not harm a priest, and would probably protect him from any outsiders who sought to do so.”
Kessligh thought about it for a moment as the boat rocked and heavy boots thumped overhead, and the rain fell even harder. It seemed suddenly absurd-the two of them sitting here plotting such grand things. Two little people, alone in a boat in a storm. They could be struck down by a lightning bolt at any moment. And yet they sat, and plotted, as if they thought to change the fate of the entire city. And many things beyond.
Kessligh's lips twisted, a humourless grimace. He kicked lightly at the bench alongside where Sasha sat. “I'm sorry I dragged you into all this,” he said then. And met her gaze, sombrely.
Sasha stared back. “No, you're not.” And then, as the portent of his words struck her, “No, you're not…gods! Don't say that! You said it yourself, all my life has been leading up to this, in one way or another! Don't you dare tell me I've wasted it!”
“I didn't mean it like that,” Kessligh said simply. “I'm just…” He sighed and shook his head faintly. “I'm just sorry, that's all.”
“There's a lot of things in the world to be sorry about,” Sasha retorted, somewhat disturbed by this uncharacteristic display of uncertainty from her uman. “It changes nothing.”
“On some big matters,” said Kessligh, businesslike once more, “the archbishop's council will be sought. Exactly how he arrives at his decisions is a guarded secret. Rumour has it that there is a vote of some kind, amongst the brotherhood. Other rumours say the archbishop decides alone, or waits for signs from the gods.”
“Like lightning strikes,” Sasha muttered, glancing toward the hold door.
“Exactly. Killing priests could be a precursor to something. A big decision. If we knew what that decision was going to be, perhaps in exchange for the protection of a few priests, it could be worth a lot.”
Sasha nodded. But, “You still don't sound very certain.”
“I'm not. Suspicion is wise, Sasha, when everyone's trying to kill you. Who will you take with you? I cannot offer anyone, our numbers are too small now as it is. Time spent on missions for the Nasi-Keth is time away from work and livelihoods.”
“I'd thought maybe Errollyn,” Sasha admitted. “But I've been told he's away. Saalshen's been spread even thinner than we have. Rhillian tries to watch everyone and trusts few other sources of information these days.”
Kessligh nodded. “Take whoever you can find. When did Father Portus say?”
“Tomorrow.”
Sasha climbed a paved path at the foot of the incline. The rain was light now and rays of sunlight speared orange through broken black cloud. Recalling the directions she'd been given, she turned left into a narrow alley overgrown with thick tree roots and knocked on a door.
“Who is it?” came the call from inside-a woman's voice.
“A friend of Yulia's!”
The door opened readily enough-once upon a time, folks in these parts had been too scared to open doors to strangers, but that had changed as the Nasi-Keth's power had grown and law came to the streets. The people's law, not the families’. A woman peered out at her suspiciously. Sasha adjusted her hat, now wet with rain. “Nasi-Keth,” the woman snorted. “What do you want?”
“To speak to Yulia,” said Sasha, attempting patience.
“Yulia doesn't speak to Nasi-Keth any longer!” the woman snapped. “Go away!”
Sasha put a hand on the door to stop it from closing. “Are you her mother?”
“I'm her aunt, and I'm telling you to go away!”
“That's not your decision,” Sasha said firmly.
“What are you going to do?” the woman shouted in anger. “How dare you come here and tell me what should happen to this family? Who do you think you are, you damn Nasi-Keth, pushing people about-”
Sasha lost patience and pushed past her, into the dingy room. The woman grabbed her arm, but Sasha twisted free and shoved her hard at a wall, one hand hovering warningly near a knife.
“Thief!” the woman shrieked. “Help me! Somebody help me, I'm being attacked!”
“Would you just shut up?” Sasha said incredulously. “There's rules here, not even family can intervene on Nasi-Keth business.”
“It's you, isn't it?” The woman jabbed a finger at her. She wore a scarf over her hair, as did many Petrodor women, and her dress was plain and brown. Her eyes were squinted with hard lines. “You're that scabby Lenay bitch, the one who got our Yulia in all that trouble!”
Sasha wondered if it would be bad etiquette to remove the hag's head from her shoulders in her own house. “Yulia!” she called instead. “Are you here?”
Already there were footsteps overhead and s
houts from outside. A girl of perhaps ten summers arrived on the stairs and a baby started squalling. Sasha glanced about the room, it was typically spartan, a paved floor and brick walls, a bare bench for a table and a few chairs.
“Why don't you just get out of here!” the woman shouted. “We're honest Verenthane folk here, we don't need your pagan type!” Several men appeared in the doorway, one was holding a chopping axe.
“What's going on here? You, what's your business?”
“I'm Nasi-Keth,” said Sasha, trying to keep her temper even. “I want only to speak to Yulia, as is a Nasi-Keth's right. Her aunt tried to stop me, and now calls me names.”
“Right enough she'll call you names,” said the man with the axe, dangerously, stepping in through the door. “You're standing in her house!” He was bald and bearded, with thick forearms and a rough manner. Perhaps he might have intimidated other people, but Sasha had grown up in Lenayin and had seen plenty of men more scary than this. Perhaps the contempt showed in her eyes, for the man seemed suddenly wary and did not advance.
“You've no right, Rena,” said the second man, also bald, but fat and somehow intelligent-looking. “Nasi-Keth are a family unto themselves, that's the rule. You can't keep her out if she wants to see Yulia.”
“I'm sick of the Nasi-Keth!” shouted Aunt Rena, hands waving. “They cause nothing but trouble! We used to live like good, honest Verenthanes until they came along! Everything was better then, we didn't have all these demon serrin telling us what to do!”
“Don't you say that,” retorted the fat man, edging in front of the man with the axe, as yet others gathered in the doorway behind. Why was it that everything in Petrodor became a drama, Sasha wondered. “I lost five brothers and sisters to the water sickness, and my father was a half-cripple who could barely use his legs until the serrin fixed him! When he was dying, I walked in and saw him on his deathbed, surrounded by healthy grandchildren. He died with a smile on his face, and hopefully so will we, and I thank the serrin and the Nasi-Keth for that, Rena. And so should you.”
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