Meeral nodded numbly.
"Then comes the part . . . " and Zavona dramatized it, just as her mother had done, "' . . . and the hoof smashed his head -- killing him.'"
For a moment Meeral tried to speak but couldn't. She finally found the words. "Are you saying . . . do you mean that the story is not true?"
Zavona sighed. "I heard her tell the same story. Then I checked with others who had heard her story and I began to think about it. She always had a plausible explanation for not telling where the 'noble lady' lived and what the names of her parents were. She told none of those other little things people remember about their parents, particularly about her father who lived until she was in her early teens."
"Shejani told me many things about her father," Meeral said, trying not to sound too defensive.
"What did she tell you?"
Ò . . . that her father was very strict with her. I think they had quarreled just before he died. She said she wished he had let her do things her own way, but she certainly knew how to ride. He must have been an excellent groom," Meeral finished, still unwilling to believe that her mother's story was not true.
"You don't have to be a groom to be a skilled rider. Perhaps his reputation was good enough that someone remembered him. Then you could find the name of your mother's parents."
"I didn't come here to find out things about my mother," Meeral said irritably. In Cyrtuno people criticized Shejani for her profession. In Pactyl, her ancestral record seemed to take on unnecessary importance.
Zavona's voice shifted into a gentler tone. "You may find that you have to. Since Shejani was a level ten enhancer, both her parents had to be descendants of Nifrona. Her mother had to be a skilled enhancer herself, and enhancers did not become housemaids, particularly forty years ago when there weren't as many. Even now, your gift of enhancing is better than a large dowry, Meeral. You'll have men wanting to marry you just because of your ability. In Lurdoa City you would do better still because they have even fewer enhancers."
"I'm not looking for a husband. I want a job."
"Don't you want to clear up your mother's record?"
Meeral shrugged her shoulders. "They're all dead - - my grandparents -- my mother."
"I guess Thera didn't explain."
Meeral said nothing, but remembered how something had disturbed Thera.
Settling herself behind her desk, Zavona said, "Excuse me, my dear, but do sit down. I should have asked you before."
Meeral perched on the edge of a chair, her back straight.
Zavona said, "Once in a while we come across an enhancer whom we cannot trace. When we do, we usually let the authorities know."
Meeral stared into the intense dark eyes of the woman behind the desk. Slowly she began to understand what Zavona was trying to tell her. Meeral shook her head and said, "Not my mother."
"We don't know. We only know that the laws of Lurdoa are strict about women using enhancing for to harm others. In almost all cases when we can't trace an enhancer to her parents, she has used her enhancing ability to maim or kill . . . "
"My mother wouldn't do that "
"That's usually the reason women conceal their identity," Zavona said. "You were taught in school that you should only use your ability against a person if your life is threatened, or in attempted rape."
"Did . . . did you report Shejani?"
Zavona looked down at the record book in front of her. "No. By the time I realized she was concealing her identity I knew her too well." She looked up at Meeral. "Recently we found something on your father. The record is sketchy. Someone made a complaint against him, but the authorities did not follow up on it because the person who made the complaint was more at fault than your father."
Meeral tried to remember the things Grandma Varis had said about Boktod -- he traveled -- and then she tried to picture her mother committing some heinous crime. Was that why she never used her ability to enhance, because she had hurt some one -- murdered? Meeral could not believe it.
Zavona raised her head. "We have a problem with you, Meeral."
"Me?"
"The less people know about enhancers, the more superstitions they have about them. Thera pointed out that there are still people in Pactyl who believe that, just as enhancing is inherited so is the tendency to use it incorrectly."
"But that's an ancient superstition "
"You know that because you come from Cyrtuno where there are so many enhancers. Knowledge of enhancing is more primitive here in Pactyl. Thera and I had hoped you would come up with your grandparents' names, but since you haven't we'll go on to our next plan. We would like you to move to Macy House," Zavona said, "if you're willing?"
"I think I'd like that, if Thera wants me."
"She wants you very much." Zavona smiled. "Thera was very persuasive in convincing me that you have no criminal tendencies. She wants to help you find a job." Zavona paused, then speaking slowly, emphasizing every word, she said, "If people ask you about your parents, tell them they are dead and you have lived with your grandmother for years. That's true, isn't it?"
Meeral nodded.
"Fortunately, you don't look like your mother. Only your voice . . . once you have worked a while . . .. The money the Prince left you will take care of your expenses until you get established." Zavona finished with, "We'll see how it goes."
Meeral walked away from the office of the High Priestess. Through the material of her blouse she fingered the curve of Shejani's silver-colored pendant. She didn't know what she should start worrying about first: seeing Thera again, getting a job, keeping her relationship to Shejani a secret, money? Money! By the roots of her mother's tree, (that is, if anyone had planted a tree for her,) she wasn't going to use Prince ParToak's money if she could help it. Some day she would find him and return every onic he had flung at her!
For a moment she fantasized the scene between them, how she would proudly say. "This is yours, I believe," and she would toss him the money. He would automatically catch it, then look ashamed that he had so misjudged her as to give her charity.
No. She'd never see him again. At least she could hope that Thera really wanted to have her at Macy House.
The first thing Thera did when she came the next morning was to envelop Meeral in her strong arms, hug her to her well-padded chest and say, "I worried that Zavona would feel she had to report you to the authorities. She's so careful to keep on the good side of Duke Daquad."
She reached down and grabbed the handle on the side of Meeral's trunk. "I'll help you get your things to Macy House." Letting it down she shook her head and said, "Too heavy. I'll see if we can get a wagon."
"Try again," Meeral said with a grin.
Thera raised the trunk, while Meeral enhanced her lift.
"I can't enhance myself, you know," Meeral explained, "but I can enhance your muscles. I'll hold this side for balance."
"You don't need to. Just take this bag. Zavona gave me some money for Macy House. Not everyone can pay their rent, so we get a bit of help."
She handed Meeral her bag saying, "Don't drop it now. It's heavy."
It was heavy, and as Meeral carried it she heard the gentle sound of metal jingling against metal. She tucked it tightly under her arm.
"You'll like the women at Macy House. I'm putting you up in the attic with several others. They'll help you."
As they walked along the cobblestone streets, Meeral remembered that Zavona and the Prince had talked about Duke Daquad. "Who is Duke Daquad?" she asked.
"He rules Pactyl. He knew your mother very well," Thera gave her a long look, "if you know what I mean."
"Was he one of my mother's protectors?"
"'Protectors?'" Thera laughed. "That's a pretty fancy word for your mother's . . . profession. I guess you could say he was. You'll not be mixing with that group. Wherever you are, you'll find some people will ask very impertinent questions. You don't have to answer them. Just say your mother died recently and you're not ready to tal
k about her. That's all you need to do."
"That's good advice," Meeral said. She was relieved to know that Thera knew about Shejani and did not mind having her daughter at Macy House.
Thera stopped and turned down a narrow street. "Let's go this way. It's crowded but it's shorter."
Shops lined the narrow street. Wheeled traffic went only one-way, fortunately, toward them. When a wagon or carriage passed, Thera and Meeral flattened themselves against a building or, if they were lucky, they stepped into the doorway of a shop. Meeral concentrated on keeping the lift on the trunk as Thera dodged past pedestrians. A man stepped out of a doorway just after Thera had gone by him. He came toward Meeral. As she tried to pass him, she felt a tug on the bag of money. Two large, sun-browned hands gripped it.
"Let go!" Meeral yelled as her fingers slipped off the bag. He turned and darted away from her, the bag in his hand.
A large, enclosed carriage was just passing them. It trapped the thief between the wall on one side, Meeral behind him and Thera in front.
"Drop that bag or I'll smash you," Thera said, swinging the trunk toward him. She did not see what Meeral saw, a long knife starting an upward swing, aimed right for Thera's stomach.
Meeral grabbed hold of the hand that held it but she was not strong enough. She let her mind leap to the flame that always burned at the Ezant altar. As she felt the sharp pain of the knife grazing her arm, she placed the flame in the man's head. He fell to the ground. The blood that smeared his shirt was her own.
Meeral pulled herself away from him and leaned against the wall. She heard a clatter on the cobblestone pavement as Thera let the trunk down without the help of Meeral's enhancing.
"Officer," someone shouted.
"There's been an accident!"
"Someone's hurt," and people were crowding around her. A man said, "He's dead. Who did it?"
"She did."
"What do you know about this?"
Men and women were crowding around the carriage that blocked the road. The driver and the two men in the carriage were shouting. Meeral finally realized that a man in uniform was asking her questions. "What do you know about this?"
Thera said, "He grabbed the bag." She held up the bag.
"Move back! I'm in charge here," the officer ordered. "Whose bag is it?"
"Mine," Thera answered and pointed to the man lying on the cobblestones. "He had a knife."
"Are you an enhancer?" the officer asked Meeral, shouting above the noise of the crowd.
"He tried to kill me," Thera said, as she worked her way to Meeral's side.
"Are there any witnesses? We'll have to take you to the lockup," the officer said. "This man was killed by an enhancer."
Thera took off her sash and wrapped it around Meeral's arm. "Don't say anything yet," she whispered.
"Are there any witnesses?" the officer shouted.
"Yes,Ó came a roar from the carriage. A middle-aged man with thick white hair and a handsome red face stuck his head out of the window of the carriage. "Officer, clear the way for me at once."
At the sound of his voice, the two robust women who were standing in front of the carriage door, moved aside. On the door was a gold crest. The officer's mouth dropped open. He began to bow.
"I said, clear the way for me so I can get out of my carriage, Officer," the man said in a commanding voice.
"Yes, your Grace," the officer turned to the crowd. "Move along there. Make way for His Grace. Hurry up there."
The crowd backed away and the carriage door opened. First, a young man stepped out and held the door open with one hand and offered the other to the man in the carriage. Waving the hand aside, a portly man dressed in a fine cotton shirt with lace at the collar and sleeves, and well-tailored white pants, stepped out of the carriage. The silver buckles on his shoes and belt bore the same crest as the carriage door.
With a bearing of authority, he addressed Meeral. "Did you kill this man?"
Thera stepped forward, but he silenced her with a look.
Meeral nodded.
"Speak up, young lady. Yes or no."
"Yes, . . . your Grace. I didn't want to . . . "
Again Thera started to say something, but he said to her. "I am the chief magistrate of the district, Madam."
He turned to the officer. "Make note of what is said here," he ordered, and then asked Meeral, "What's your name?"
"Meeral, your Grace."
"Do you know this man?" He gestured at the figure lying on the cobblestones.
Meeral shook her head.
"Speak up, young lady. Do you know this man?"
"No. I don't know who he is . . . He just came out of the doorway."
The Duke peered into Meeral's face, shook his head. He turned to the young man who was standing obediently behind him. "Pudbot, what's so familiar about that young lady? Where have we seen her?"
"Perhaps in one of the shops," Pudbot suggested.
"If you'll pardon me, your Grace," Thera said in a rush of words, "She just arrived in Pactyl three days ago. She's been with me or at the Ezant compound. You can ask the High Priestess."
"Let me ask the questions," he said to Thera. "Where are you from, young lady?"
"Cyrtuno," Meeral answered. Then, because he seemed to want a longer answer, she added. "I've lived there all my life until I came here."
As if to himself, he said, "I've never been in Cyrtuno." Then to Meeral, "Have you ever seen me before?"
"No, your Grace."
The Duke looked carefully at her face, then, with a bit more pleasure in his expression he let his eyes wander further down. He caught himself and returned to his magisterial manner.
"Why did you kill him?"
"He had a knife."
"What was he doing with the knife?"
The questions went on, covering every detail as the Duke's eyes took in the details of Meeral's appearance. Finally he asked, "Could you have stopped him any other way?"
"No. There wasn't time. I didn't want to kill him but there was no other way I could protect Thera."
The Duke said, "Officer, get the names of these two women and put in your report that I verify the young lady's story. I saw the whole thing. You can send it to my office for my signature. From the clothes and his actions he must be a sailor. Find out what ship he came from and notify the appropriate people."
"Yes, Your Grace."
The man looked at the green belt wound around Meeral's arm. He turned to Thera. "Is the wound serious?" he asked.
"I don't think so. We'll take care of it. We're going to Macy House."
"I'm sorry that your introduction to Pactyl is so unpleasant, young lady. I think you'll find the rest of your stay will be much more pleasant. I'll check you in a few days and see if everything is all right," he said. "Pudbot. Have the trunk delivered to Macy House."
As they walked away, Meeral heard the Duke say to his aide. "Keep a record of that address. I may want it later. By Gurkon, I can't think who that girl reminds me of "
Thera and Meeral were almost at Macy House before Meeral asked, "Was that really Duke Daquad?"
"Yes." Thera paused, then said, "Thank you for saving my life, Meeral. But I can't figure out where you got the fire, Meeral. Did you see some along in the shops?"
"No. I got it from the altar candles."
"But that's half a mile away. You are good at enhancing!"
Pleased with Thera's praise, Meeral explained, "I'm always trying to enhance from greater distances. Women don't realize all the different things they can do with enhancing if they only would try."
After a moment Thera began to laugh. "You stole it from some one who was probably using it. Some one is probably swearing at you because you left her in the dark. Next time I'm at the compound, I'll tell them it was for a good cause."
"How did the Duke know the man was a sailor?" Meeral asked.
"He could tell from his clothes. Besides, if he were from around here he wouldn't mess with a woman -- she mig
ht be an enhancer."
"Will he really check on us, Thera?
"He has a terrible reputation, you know. With women." Thera looked up and down the street, as if expecting to see the Duke. A frown flitted across her brow and then disappeared and she gave Meeral a broad smile. "He won't bother you," she said then added, "Everything will be all right."
Meeral had heard those words before from Grandma Varis. She had been wrong about Chak. Would Thera be wrong about the Duke?
CHAPTER 6
Macy House sat on the bluff overlooking the Harbor. It was huge. Tipping back her head Meeral, looked up at the fourth story windows.
"Don't they have big houses in Cyrtuno?" Thera asked.
"A few, but not right in town."
"This was country when the house was built. The town crept up around it. That's why the owners moved and donated it to the Ezants."
Inside, Meeral decided the large front room must have been the parlor. Now the floor was bare of rugs. Six small children were playing with wooden blocks under the supervision of a woman. A teenage girl in a rocking chair nursed an infant while a young man of the same age sat stiffly in a chair next to her. He avoided Thera's eyes, but the girl gave her a contented smile. The next room had a large fireplace. It obviously had been, and still was, the living room. A man sat in earnest conversation with a woman whose temple was swollen and blue. Several other women sat knitting or sewing. Thera stopped in front of the man. He leaned down and avoided Thera's eyes by scratching his ankle until she turned and greeted the women.
Thera and Meeral moved through a doorway into a room with four large tables made of rough wood. Three tables had benches, while the fourth had high chairs for babies and stools for mothers. The aroma of stew and bread spilled out of the kitchen.
"Some women don't like living here because men aren't allowed beyond those first two rooms. Not enough excitement," Thera said as they began climbing the stairs, "but others like the safety and comfort."
The Enhancer Page 6
