by Katy Winter
There was only one very broad avenue and it was the one they rode along. From it sprawled narrow, winding streets that ended in blind alleys or brought the traveller back to the main road again. All the houses they passed had gaily painted external chimneys that happily belched smoke all over the city. Chlorien noticed that nobody seemed to bother about the smoke and not one Gnosti she saw seemed to have undue cares or worry. She briefly envied them.
They approached a market and had to rein in. They rode very carefully, for the mage and Chlorien's mounts were very large among such small people and no one wanted harm to come to the gathered throng. Folk came forward, mostly to welcome Jaim, and then to stare at the strangers. Autoc signalled to Chlorien to dismount and to walk her horse as he proceeded to do, though he still considerably dwarfed those around him. Jaim stayed mounted, his horse unlikely to cause damage. Chlorien became distracted by the sights and smells of the market and licked her lips, suddenly aware she was hungry. She and Autoc began to attract attention. Jaim spoke quietly to the mage.
"Tell the lad to hurry a bit, my friend." Autoc touched Chlorien's arm. His voice was unruffled.
"Jaim asks that we hurry, lad. There's no cause for alarm, but I wish you to keep in front of me."
Chlorien glanced up at the mage, nodded and quickly drew in behind Jaim so they moved more smoothly in single file. They reached the administrative heart of Ostika and the surrounding Gnosti lands. It was far less cluttered than the residential and market areas. Elegant buildings sprawled gracefully under arching trees, with gardens and miniature lakes. The area covered numerous blocks. Chlorien also noticed that the road had straightened and widened again, into a proliferation of avenues and narrower roads, not, she thought wistfully, unlike Ortok.
Unexpectedly, Jaim veered sharply right. The mage and Chlorien, both now riding again, followed. Until they turned, they were shadowed by a large group of Gnosti children, their hazel eyes opened wide and curious. Now they trailed away, their childish giggles fading with them. Chlorien drew level with the mage.
"Where's he taking us, Father?" she whispered.
"Wait and see," advised the mage calmly.
"Have you been here before?" Autoc's eyes smiled warmly at her.
"Yes, little one. I'm no stranger to Ostika."
"And my greatsire? Is he a stranger here?" The mage shook his head and wouldn't speak further. Chlorien sat her horse and mused as she rode.
~~~
They entered the gates of the King's residence. It was neither big nor palatial enough to be called a palace, but it was a very large rambling house that had considerable charm, its walls creeper-covered and, unlike the rest of Ostika, it was two-storied. It had numerous ornate oriole windows, a steeply pitched roof with the typical Ostika gables, and several painted external chimneys, one of which smoked vigorously.
The entrance way was noisy because the horses' hooves scrunched on myriad small white stones. Unlike elsewhere, this house had grounds and was surrounded by enormous mature trees, whose boughs met over the roof of the house. Lawns and gardens swept from the sides of the building and beyond. There were no servants visible. Chlorien assumed they were at a wealthy merchant's house.
She dismounted and stood waiting, her eyes alert and questioning. When told by Jaim to follow, she found they were led to a stable situated to the left of the main building. A young Gnosti boy ran up to Jaim and had his head tousled affectionately, before he grasped the reins of all three horses and led them away. The travellers went to the front door. Chlorien expected they'd wait to be admitted. She was surprised when Jaim calmly pushed open the painted door and entered, beckoning the mage and the girl to follow. Autoc had to stoop almost double to enter. Chlorien ducked steeply. Inside, Autoc's head brushed the ceiling and Chlorien realised she didn't have a lot of head clearance either.
A man, not unlike Jaim, sat ruminatively in a rocking chair situated just inside the door. When they entered the room, Chlorien nearly stumbled into him because Autoc came to a sudden halt. The Gnosti's tawny eyes, so like Jaim's, passed briefly over the mage to rest unnervingly on Chlorien. She righted herself, murmuring an apology. The Gnosti's voice was rich and deep.
"Welcome back amongst us again, mage. It's long since I've seen you. Bene advised of your coming." Autoc's eyes shone appreciatively.
"I thank you for your welcome," he said quietly. He crouched for more comfort. The Gnosti continued to look at Chlorien.
"And welcome to the girl who's a boy, whose mind is presently still unbalanced. Your name, lad?" Chlorien was caught off balance by her reception and blushed.
"Chlorien." The eyes on her didn't waver.
"You've come to us to learn, have you, child?"
"I thank you," she said to the Gnosti, nervously meeting his perceptive eyes. She saw a glint in them and lowered her head.
"Well, then, Jaim, see them comfortably disposed. Seek me when you wish."
Jaim gave a quaint, respectful bow and moved beyond the entrance room, Autoc uncurling himself and following. Chlorien was uncomfortably aware of eyes that followed her.
The house was very comfortable, though not lavish, and looked lived in and cared for. The walls and floors were of polished and unadorned wood, nor were there any chambers as such, just a series of rooms that led off landings and could be used for any specific purpose. The Gnosti were utilitarian folk and this showed in the way their houses were arranged. Some rooms showed that they were used for one purpose more than any other. Specific items of furniture suggested that it was so.
Chlorien passed room after room. Some were obviously for storage, others for ablutions, others could be for entertaining or lounging, or even sleeping, because folded-down beds disappeared into wall cavities especially designed for them. This last intrigued Chlorien. It drew a sigh from the mage, because he knew he simply wouldn't fit. She saw hobby areas, too, and was stopped at what she guessed were guest quarters, though the room seemed bare. Here Jaim and the mage spoke together quietly before they were led on again, past the back door for regular use, a heavy, carved door with the middle section an attractive, ornately designed grille through which people could be clearly and easily identified.
Jaim glanced up at the mage with a roguish grin.
"You'd better translate to a Gnosti, my friend, if you want any sleep." Autoc smiled ruefully.
"Aye, I will," he agreed, meekly falling back in behind Jaim.
He led them along a little further, to a half-landing, where they entered the cooking area. This was homely, warm and surprisingly full of furniture, obviously a well used room that was the focus of Gnosti life. There was a large, oblong table in the centre of this spacious room, with deeply carved, scrolled chairs placed along and at the head of it. There were a number of comfortable-looking rocking chairs at the far end of the room that the mage thought looked most inviting. Still stooping, he gravitated towards one of them. Jaim glanced at Autoc's bent frame and grinned.
"Sit, my friend, do. You'll do yourself a mischief."
Autoc sank into a chair with a sigh of profound relief. Chlorien stayed in the doorway. Her gaze took in the neatly stacked woodpile in one corner, not far from the stove polished black until it shone. Again she felt a wave of homesickness. A room such as this reminded her sharply of the room that was the hub of family life in Ortok. She thought they were brass ornaments that hung on either side of the stove, burnished until they glinted in the sunlight and she could see, beside these, hung other household utensils, fire irons, racks full of briar pipes and what Chlorien assumed were musical pipes of all sorts. She thought of Bethel.
"Sit, lad," suggested Jaim in a kindly voice, turning to watch Chlorien before busying himself at the stove. Autoc, lounging very easily, smiled at her as she approached and sat next to him. Jaim glanced round at Chlorien.
"You want to explore, lad, don't you?"
"Yes," admitted Chlorien. "There's so much to see."
"You can start by looking around the immedi
ate area, but don't go out alone, certainly not until you've been properly introduced. It's not the Gnosti way. Our people haven't seen your like in many, many cycles, lad."
"Was it my greatsire who stayed here, Jaim?" Jaim's head came up, surprised.
"Yes, lad, it was - a long, long time ago." Chlorien opened her eyes at that.
"Do they tell their children, then, so they'll know when another stranger comes?"
Jaim met Autoc's amused look and said quietly, "They remember for themselves, child." Chlorien looked awed.
"How old are you, Jaim?"
"Two hundred and twenty-six of your cycles," he replied with a growl. Chlorien was briefly silenced, then she looked from Jaim to the mage and back again.
She seemed to be thinking, because eventually she said, "Father?" Since Autoc knew what was coming, his eyes sparkled.
"Aye, little one?"
"How old are you, Father?"
"Very old in Ambros time, little one."
"As old as my greatsire? You don't look as old as him." Autoc was caught off-guard.
"As old as Bene? No, no, child. He's a most venerable and respected mage." Chlorien's next question came shyly.
"Will you be as old as he is, one day?" Autoc's smile was gentle.
"I hope so, child. I very much hope so."
Chlorien lapsed back into silence and stayed that way until Jaim placed a cup of hot liquid in her hands. She thanked him, sniffing at the cup before sipping from it. The mage immediately put his cup to his lips and drank.
"Ah, Jaim, I haven't tasted this in a long time." He looked across at Chlorien who hesitated and added cheerfully. "It won't hurt you, you know, lad." Chlorien grinned.
"I know that, but what is it?"
"See if you can guess," invited Jaim, joining them and sinking into a chair, his short legs stretched straight out in front of him. Satisfied, he sighed and pulled a pipe from his pocket. "It's always good to return to Ostika," he murmured. Chlorien drank, finding the liquid strongly scented but very sweet. "Know yet what it is?" asked Jaim, beginning to puff contentedly. She shook her head, drank again until the cup was emptied, then rose and placed it carefully on the table. Jaim watched her.
"If you wish, you can go, lad, but remember to stay in the house, or its immediate environs. You'll find the stairs to the underground part of the house along the next parallel passage and to your right." Chlorien stared down at the little Gnosti.
"Underground?" she echoed.
"Of course. Where do you think we carry out all our industry? There are tunnel networks all under Ostika, and beyond, for miles in every direction." Chlorien started to laugh.
"I can't wait to see this city."
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Chlorien's exploration opened her to a new and fascinating world that made her think. No one questioned the tall lad walking below the house, any Gnosti she saw looking at her but leaving her alone. She seemed to know instinctively where she had to stop and turn back.
She paused at each workshop she passed. She watched how things were done. Yet again she felt a surge of grief when she saw ways of doing things that took her back to Ortok, though here there were no guilds of craftsmen and women. Much she'd never seen before. It made her realise how ignorant of the ways of Ambros she was and how much the scholar had protected her. She knew, from what he taught her, that many Ambrosian societies relied on one another and on exploiting the land at the expense of other creatures, whereas here was different. The Gnosti were essentially self-sufficient. They gave back to the land what they took from it. It was a salutary lesson for Chlorien.
She saw how oil was made for the lamps she saw hanging from ornamental brackets set at regular intervals on the walls of the passages. She saw Gnosti making their ceramics as she'd watched done in Ortok, their potters' wheels almost identical. What was different was how decoration was made. It was by the use of patterns pressed into the wet clay with small carved wooden stamps. The pots and platters were loaded onto trolleys to be hauled by pulleys to a lower level where huge kilns were never empty.
She moved to several levels deeper. She watched glass blown from melted crystals, the finest being turned into drinking glasses, and the least delicate coloured with the addition of minerals. Chlorien had noticed the profusion of coloured and decorative glass-work in the houses and now she saw where it came from. Chlorien thought of the guild for such fine work, where she knew her mother sometimes went to design work. It made her bite her lip hard. She briefly saw Gnosti bent over wooden joinery, carving, making and dyeing cloth, spinning and other skills that she remembered from home. She sighed wistfully. It was the first time she'd seen so much that reminded her so poignantly of Ortok and what was lost.
She found she'd wandered down at least four or five levels and stood disoriented, trying to get her bearings. A quiet voice behind her spoke courteously.
"Are you lost, young lad?" She turned, to look down to a young woman who held a small curious, wide-eyed child on one hip. She smiled.
"Yes, I am a little," she admitted. "I've been admiring so much, but now can't remember how to get back to the house." The Gnosti woman was thoughtful, her hazel eyes giving no hint of her emotions.
"Then, tall lad, you move to your left and climb the stairs. At each level you move left and that way you'll always come to a set of stairs. If you remember that, you'll always come to a top level somewhere in Ostika."
"Thank you," she murmured, turning and beginning to walk.
"You're welcome in Ostika," the voice followed her. When Chlorien glanced back, the Gnosti was gone.
~~~
Chlorien found her way back to the top level easily after that and entered the room where the mage and Jaim were. She found them eating heartily of a bean pie. She advanced and looked hungrily at the platter. Jaim saw her expression and immediately served her a very large portion from what was left. Her eyes lighting, Chlorien pulled out a chair and sat, cutting into the pie as though she was starving. Autoc raised an eyebrow.
"You seem inordinately hungry, lad. Why's this?"
"I seem to have been for miles," declared Chlorien, through a mouthful. She chewed vigorously, accepting a tankard from Jaim at the same time. She took a gulp and smacked her lips.
"And?" prompted Autoc. Chlorien shook her head.
"Later, Father," she mumbled. "I'm so hungry."
Exchanging amused glances, the two men let her eat in peace, Jaim quietly cutting her another generous slice and slipping it in front of her as she came to the end of the first.
"You'd think she was a lad, wouldn't you?" he observed.
Chlorien glanced at the mage, got a wink, blushed, but ate the pie all the same. Afterwards she stretched back replete and then leaned on the table with her hands clasped round the tankard. Jaim made no comment. He just sat as quietly as the mage, both of them puffing on their pipes. Autoc watched Chlorien.
She remained quiet and thoughtful, then suddenly said, "You don't eat meat, do you?"
"Gnosti don't, no, lad," agreed Jaim.
"But you do, outside in other lands."
"Yes," said Jaim imperturbably.
"How can you behave in two different ways?"
"Easily, child." Chlorien looked puzzled. "Think back to the desert, Chlorien. Think of the escater: think why it changed its colours and how the roughness of the skin could become smooth." Chlorien nodded. "Then think of yourself. Didn't you act in an abnormal way to appear normal yourself?" This time, Chlorien shook her head. Jaim shook his head back at her, saying quietly, "Did you draw attention to yourself as a girl, with Kesli?" Chlorien looked taken aback, then stared hard at the Gnosti.
"You're saying you can act in a different way to suit a particular circumstance?"
"Something like that, yes."
"Isn't that dishonest?"
"In a sense, I suppose," mused Jaim thoughtfully, "but you'll find, before you're much older, lad, that you can't always be fully honest. To yourself, yes, but to others
? Perhaps not."
"Children are honest."
"Usually," temporised Jaim.
"But with maturity it isn't always possible?"
"True. Truth can cause harm and hurt. It's like everything else; it has its place and usually it's the right way to go, but you must remember it's not always so. You must decide if the circumstances of truth will hurt someone so badly, even irreparably, that it's better to avoid it. I'm not advocating lying as a way of life."
"Selective honesty," said Chlorien, her brow puckered. "You could just not say something, and that wouldn't be either lying or telling a hurtful truth."
"Aye," chuckled the mage. "She's a fast learner, Jaim, isn't she?" Chlorien wrinkled her nose.
"You're saying one should think carefully before speaking, aren't you?" Jaim grinned.
"Lad, we could argue this round and round and not come up with an answer. Let me ask you something. If you met one of your brothers now and they asked you how you were conceived, what would you do?" Chlorien bent her head and went briefly quiet.
"If they were alive I'd tell them," she whispered finally.
"And your mother's pain, when it caused you such anguish, child? Would you wish him to know the same and feel the anguish at her rape?"
"No."
"And if he asked you, child, exactly what happened?"
"I'd try to tell him in such a way that -." She broke off. "I wouldn't let him share it," she added, barely audibly.
"No, lad," said Jaim gently. "I wouldn't tell everything either, not so ones already probably badly hurt would be needlessly hurt again. There are times to hold back, child. You see, I don't talk about truth and lies in black and white. Nothing's ever that simple, is it?"
