Calling Up the Fire

by Lori Martin

  “Paither, you’d be in the Mendale Assembly –”

  “Pillyn, please. Let me talk to him. Son, I have no reason to think you honor my people. You dress as a Lindahne. You worship as a Lindahne. No, no, that’s your choice, I have no quarrel with it. You must follow your own soul. But it means you cannot be a part of the Assembly.”

  “It’s the goddess’s doing,” Pillyn whispered. “Or perhaps it was me, pushing you.”

  “But you’re not pushing Calli! She knows who she is already, a Mendale daughter of a Mendale father. You don’t dress her in Lindahne colors!” His voice cracked, as if he were again a boy. “Why choose me? Why have you done this to me?”

  They exchanged looks, but he could not read the message. Nichos said evenly, “We’ve done what’s best for you.”

  “I know what it is. The Assembly won’t have a halfer. I’m just not good enough to be your kin, am I?”

  “Not good – now don’t be a fool. Are you honestly saying you want to be herald?”

  This trapped him. “I only – I didn’t –” he looked at Pillyn. The next words slipped from him. “By Nialia –” He stopped.

  Nichos smiled, tenderly.

  “I’m sorry,” Paither said, and before they could react he had surged from the room.

  Pillyn fumbled in her pockets for a handkerchief. Nichos said, “I warned you what would happen if we didn’t tell him.”

  “Nichos Mendale, I beg you, don’t let’s talk about it.”

  “My love –”

  “Please!”

  “You can’t dam back the flow of the Valtah. It’ll break over our heads.”

  She would not answer. She left him, closing the door. Nichos looked down sadly at his packcase. He couldn’t remember what he had been looking for.

  By the next morning Paither had recovered his temper. He found Baili in Nichos’s work rooms, off of the south corridor of the Assemblage. Baili sat surrounded by scrolls, patiently writing out a list of subjects for the Assembly to consider. As herald, Nichos brought forward all upcoming items; the chroniclers and the secretary were concerned with yesterday’s proceedings. Baili prepared the lists at Nichos’s direction, often able to fill in details that Nichos himself, caught these last days in strong political winds, was no longer able to provide. When Nichos became Third Tribune, he would work even harder.

  Baili had retained the cheerfulness and curiosity of his childhood. He was a Lindahne, but since his ninth year he had lived in the conquerors’ country as a ward of Nichos. His youth during the War had saved him from bitterness. Nichos was a good friend and protector, almost a father, and the Assembly’s politics were entertaining; that was all he needed to know to serve here, as a minor worker for the Mendale government. His practical approach, however, sometimes unnerved Nichos. “The Oversettle can’t last, you know,” Baili had once told him. “But I’ll be here with you as long as it does, and as long as you need me.”

  Paither slid in around the scattered footstools and writing tables. “Am I disturbing you?”

  “No, no, come on in. I’ll be through with this soon.”

  “It’s drafty in here, isn’t it?”

  “Always. Open the draperies a little more, we’ll get some sun.”

  The door was ajar. He could hear the murmurings of a long-winded Assembly member, giving a speech in the Chamber. It formed a pleasant background sound to the scratching of Baili’s pen. “I thought I would ask you to show me around, when you’re finished. This building is like a maze.”

  “It isn’t, not at the core. A large square with three rectangle offshoots. Once you know the basic floor plan it’s quite logical. They never build on additions or alterations, nothing haphazard allowed. Nothing spontaneous. I’ll be glad to take you around.”

  A woman’s voice called, “Baili?”

  “In here!”

  A dark-haired attractive young woman looked around the door. “Are you hard at work?”

  “Of course. Come on in. Mistress Shelte, this is Master Paither, Herald Nichos’s son. Shelte works for one of the chroniclers.”

  They exchanged good-days. Shelte flashed him a quick bright smile and turned back to Baili. “Some of the new House furniture is coming in. I thought you could help me pick out a table or two.”

  “I’d like to, but I can’t just now.”

  Shelte made a twitching movement with her hip, which caused her skirt to swirl. “But you need decent chairs in here. If you don’t come today, everything will be gone.”

  “Well, be a friend and grab something for me.” He added lightly, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “If you’re not working so hard. Good day to you, Master Paither.”

  Paither, amused, nodded his farewell. When she was out of hearing he said, “And what have you been up to? Flirting with Mendales?”

  Baili poured sand on the scroll to dry the ink. “Well, there aren’t too many nobleborn Lindahne women around here, as you may have noticed. Does it matter so much?”

  “It does to me.”

  Baili rolled up the scroll. “You’ll live a lonely life, then. As it is it’s not easy to find women here who’ll be bothered with a Lindahne man. Of course, in your case – they think you’re at least half Mendale, anyway.”

  “Think?”

  “I meant... you feel Lindahne, but women won’t know that unless you tell them. Except for your clothes.”

  “I don’t care who knows it. Bai, you wouldn’t marry a Mendale woman, would you?”

  “Yes, I would. I haven’t told anyone about this before but – last year there was someone.”

  “What happened?”

  “I don’t know. I think it was too hard for her. People hissed ‘lin-lover’ at her in the hallways. She left, she gave up her Assembly work.”

  “She doesn’t sound very brave.”

  “No,” Baili admitted. “But she had her points. You’re a little stiffnecked, aren’t you? Good thing your mother wasn’t as stubborn about it, don’t you think?”

  He smiled. “That’s different. My father is one of a kind.”

  “True. I’m finished with this. Shall we go?”

  The missing chronicler had been found. The count was now three Assembly members dead. Pirri had been right; extra protection was ordered for the nomination session.

  Scayna, off-duty and napping, was jerked awake by the chilhi. “I’m putting four of you in the balcony. Keep your wits and mind your manners. And Scayna. Can’t you make yourself more presentable?”

  She brushed up her hair, which she was keeping closely trimmed, with her fingertips. It didn’t help. She smiled in defiance. “Should I put the tarra-cloth back on, chilhi?”

  “Certainly not. All right, just go! Take the others with you.” The full Assembly met in the Chamber, a high-ceilinged room. The heat from the many fireplaces drifted upwards to the balcony, leaving a chill below. The benches, well-padded and fixed to the floor in perfect concentric circles, swirled about an open area in the center, where a great podium gleamed.

  “See those three fine seats facing it? The ones with the high backs? That’s where the Trio sits,” one of the Assembly guards, a man named Thelen, told her.

  Scayna said, “But half the hall gets the speaker’s back.” “Sure. All the junior members. You can always tell when one’s made it around to the front side, because he gets here early and squirms around in his new seat. Makes me think of a dog marking his territory.”

  “Who is this Third Tribune they’re nominating?”

  “The herald, they say it will be. A listtel. Nice man, always has a word for me. His name’s Nichos.”

  “Nichos? Nichos.” A dim uneasiness sounded in her. Then she remembered her father’s strange warning. “But you like him?”

  “I do. Some people don’t, though. You see,” he dropped his voice, “he’s a bit of a lin-lover. Would you believe he went and married one? And I hear he’s got half her relatives living with him.”

  “A lin-lover
as a Third Tribune?”

  “Hard to believe, isn’t it? Without that he would have moved up much faster, I think. He’s been herald for years and years. He keeps some kin of his lin-wife, name of Baili, who works here with him. He’s not really bad, either,” he added, grudgingly, “even if he is a lin. Knows his place at least. Well, they’ll be starting soon. You keep your eyes open. Not that it’s likely anything will happen here.” He yawned a little. “I’d better get below. See you after?”

  Scayna made a non-committal sound. She liked Thelen well enough, but he wasn’t very bright, and she would not encourage his attentions. (“Marry or not, as you please, but find yourself something to do,” Quienos had said, before urging her into the army. “We’re not rich nobles, girl. You have to keep food on the table.” And a coarse whisper from Daana that she was not meant to hear: “She doesn’t seem to have any feelings. You know what I mean.”)

  Her mother, as usual, had been wrong. She remembered her first full flush of desire, for a potter’s son with a soft smile. They had been too young. Later she would let no one care for her; the time wasn’t right, not with her darks...

  Perhaps when I’m well. Someday I’ll be well.

  She leaned out over the balcony rail. The Assembly members were starting to take their seats, drifting in through the double doors of the entrance. Chains of office winked and glittered, but their dress was somber, dignified. There were only a handful of listtels, but she could not pick out the man her father had spoken of.

  The balcony ran in a full circle. She was glad to be above the crowd and the dense air. Across the open space the archer opposite motioned to her, rolling her eyes down to the podium. Scayna looked again and jumped; one of the Assembly secretaries was at the podium and frowning up at her relaxed attitude. Scayna adjusted her bow and straightened, melting back into the half-shadows. She hoped the ceremony would be interesting.

  The secretary cleared his throat impressively. The members were not seated, but chattering behind, in front, and on all sides. A small bell encased in silver hung at the edge of the podium, and the secretary rang it. Its high sound, piercing yet delicate, quieted them. They took their seats.

  “Good day to you, colleagues,” the secretary said. “I welcome you to a special Assembly session, called by our honored First Tribune. Guards? Have the Tribunes arrived?”

  For answer Thelen and his companion guard swung open the heavy doors. The Assembly members rose respectfully to their feet.

  First Tribune Haol and Second Tribune Rhonna marched in together, both outfitted in the lush velvet robes of their office. An honor guard escorted them to their places. The secretary bowed. When they had both settled themselves, he rang the bell again, and the Assembly members were reseated.

  “To proceed. As all our chroniclers have recorded –” he broke off; poor Planna’s position was vacant. “As our choniclers Winjas and Cile have recorded, and as herald Nichos has proclaimed, former Third Tribune Athas has passed from his time in office.”

  “We wish him well,” Haol said loudly. Chronicler Cile, scratching on parchment, looked up, looked down, and recorded it.

  “We wish him well,” the secretary echoed. “And we wait for his successor. On this matter, I give you the First Tribune.”

  The Assembly applauded. Scayna noted that the guards had exited, closing the main doors behind them. She never liked being enclosed. As far as her vision extended, however, everything looked in order.

  Tribune Haol took over, planting his bulky body behind the podium. “Second Tribune Rhonna, esteemed Assembly members, my friends. Good day to you. And it is a good day – a great day, I may say for the Assembly and for Mendale. For today I have the honor of nominating a new Third Tribune, a man of many talents. A wise man who has often given us the benefit of his thoughtful counsel. I nominate for you Nichos, herald of the Assembly!”

  They applauded and stood once more, facing a small side door directly below Scayna, out of her sights. The archer across from her watched keenly.

  A listtel had entered and was moving to the podium. Scayna could see the top of his head and his back. He moved well. She wondered what mischief her father had gotten into during the War that put them on bad terms.

  The herald was bowing his acknowledgements. “Honored Haol, Tribune Rhonna, permit me to present my family to you –”

  She frowned. Three lins were entering with him. And only one was dressed properly, with the sash behind and the robe sleeves cuffed. Perhaps that one was Baili, who knew the Assembly. She could see only the lin-wife’s long yellow hair.

  Another fair head appeared momentarily below her. He...

  She gasped, too audibly. A hard burning drove into her spine, like a dagger wrapped in fiery flames. Beyond the pain, the fright was worse. What’s this? What is it? This isn’t just a dark.

  The burning seared up the skin of her neck and clawed at the inside of her skull. Voices battered at her, chanting, bruising. Grey smoke clouded over her vision.

  Flames... the burning...

  She saw towering white marble, a building of ancient beauty, roaring with fire. Blackness devoured stone, column upon column in rapid sequence – darkness across – darkness across the Hills –

  Ennnn... the sound echoed, Ennn... ill... nnn... “Mother!” she screamed, but it did not leave her throat.

  Two archers stood over her, hissing. “Scayna! Scayna, get up! What’s the matter with you?”

  Sharp fingertips stung at her cheek. Her pupils constricted against the light. The pain had gone.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’ll be all right in a moment.”

  “... ranking of the Sixth Band during the War,” Haol was proclaiming, extolling the herald’s accomplishments. “Helping to overthrow our primitive enemies and their foolish fantasies of gods. Working for the good of all Mendales –” She was thankful; they had not heard her.

  Sunk in the velvet cushion of a seat below, Paither, ignoring Haol’s insults, stirred uneasily.

  Something?

  Prickles went down his arms and he shivered. He lifted his eyes and searched the balcony vaguely. No, it was gone.

  The other archers dragged Scayna to her feet. They were decently concerned but frightened at leaving their posts. “I’m all right,” Scayna whispered. “Go back. Yes, yes, go ahead.”

  She clutched at the balcony’s smooth rail. The First Tribune had paused for applause. He shifted his ponderous body and the little bell on the podium was jarred into sounding. “My friends, let us proceed. As Third Tribune, Nichos Mendale would be able to show us his true gift for governing.” But Haol, still smiling, was annoyed. Some kind of commotion was going on at the back, near the doors. Why couldn’t these people settle down? There was a long afternoon ahead.

  Heads turned; sibilant whispers passed back and forth. He continued, “It is not often that we have such talent at our disposal, and I –”

  The double doors swung open, bringing in the two red-faced guards and a barrage of noise. “Tribune! A moment, Tribune!” Thelen shouted.

  The alarmed archer on Scayna’s right, facing the entranceway, stepped forward. She put arrow to bow and leaned out, at the ready. Scayna’s breathing was still ragged. She fought to concentrate. Take aim – find a mark?

  Behind Thelen, a large group of artisans was shouting and cursing. Tribune Haol waved to the secretary and surrendered the podium. It would be undignified to deal with this himself. The Assembly members in the front rows craned their necks to see.

  “Silence!” the secretary shouted. “Guards! Explain yourselves!”

  “Your pardon, Tribunes, Secretary Mallus, but please listen –”

  “This is a special Assembly session! What is this rabble doing in here?”

  “Sir,” Thelen panted.The group behind him shoved at his back; their demands for entry reverberated from the ceiling. He shouted above their noise. “Sir, they’re leatherworkers. I think you should hear them –”

  “How d
are you!” the secretary thundered. “Are guards to decide the Assembly’s business now? Get them out at once!”

  “I will be heard!” A ferocious voice boomed out. “I will be heard in the Assembly!”

  Thelen swung out his sword to bar the man’s way. Burly in his leatherwork apron, with greasy grey hair stuck up in bristles, the man loomed behind the guards like a massive rock wall come to life. “We’ve a right to be heard!”

  “I’ll have you all under arrest,” the secretary seethed. “Guards! Where are the other guards?”

  The Assembly members echoed his outrage; everyone seemed to be shouting. “This is disgraceful!” “Has the Assembly become a common market?” “Get out, you lawless fools!”

  Tribune Haol, placid, looked around the chaotic Chamber and finally up at the balcony. His look crossed Scayna’s; she was still thinking slowly, and did not turn her head in time. “Here you,” he called up. “Are you a good shot?”

  Her jaw went slack. “Sir?” she croaked.

  “Right there.” Haol pointed. She could hear his calm voice easily through the din; it cut through without effort. “Right over his head, I’d say, would be best. Well? Go ahead.”

  The archer on her right would have had a better shooting line, but he was only looking at her. She took in a deep breath of air and remembered to relax her stiff fingers.

  The group behind Thelen and his companion guard heaved forward against the uniformed shoulders, and fell back again as they were repulsed. Their burly leader waved a gnarled fist. He was thrust up against the open left-hand door by the crowd’s pressure.

  Scayna chose a mark two palms’ length above his head, drew back her arm, and fired. The air sang, then arrow hit wood.

  In the uproar, it was not really a loud sound, but the effect on the crowd was immediate. The astonished leatherworker gaped up at the feathers trembling just above him. His supporters were suddenly hushed. The secretary rang the silver bell; the Assembly members looked to the doors and to the podium, and finally fell silent.

  “Thank you,” Haol said politely to the balcony. She did not dare to acknowledge it. “Now, then. Guards, why have you permitted this display?”