She heard the door open as the men continued to talk. Their voices were cut off as Lenera's voice said, "Meeral! What's the matter with your head?"
She was not allowed to approach Meeral. MorToak explained, with somewhat of a sneer, the reason for the hood.
"How can you treat a woman this way?" Meeral thought MorToak was talking about her until he said, "Why wasn't she allowed to change her clothes, and fix her hair?"
"Is she all right?" Meeral asked.
Xankald was not immune to the criticism. He barked orders for Lenera's care: a bath, clothes, whatever was needed.
How frustrating not to see her. Meeral said, "Lenera. Are you all right?"
Meeral detected an angry quaver when Lenera said, "Yes. I'm all right. But I've been locked up in this dress without a bath. And that awful man, Chak, would come in and talk to me." She added, "I've lost all my hairpins."
Her voice was reassuringly strong, yet her mention of Chak seemed to have a special meaning.
Xankald seemed to notice it. He asked, "What did he say?"
"Oh, he just talked," she answered evasively. Then Meeral detected another change, as if Lenera was trying to tell her something. "I think I've seen him hanging around when Daddy took Twin and me to the fair just outside of Pactyl. He said he planned your kidnapping Meeral, gloated over it."
Meeral heard footsteps and Xankald gave further instructions for Lenera's care. In parting, Lenera said, "Now that you've arranged a bath for me, get that awful thing off Meeral's head," and Meeral heard the brisk, departing footsteps as well as those of several others who escorted her.
More people left. MorToak said good-bye, She thought she might be alone and put her hands up to the hood, trying to move it so it did not push against her nose. Desperately, she pulled at the clasp, but it was securely locked. Irrationally she grasped both sides and tried to push it off her head.
"Don't." It was the voice of Xankald.
The words that gathered in her throat were so angry and so pointless to say, she just gave out a groan.
"If you harm us, or try to escape," he said, "we will kill your friend Lenera, and Prince MorToak. Do you understand?"
"How do I know that she's is all right? I haven't seen her."
"You will." She heard a jangle of metal. A hand touched her neck, then confusing metallic noises and a click of the lock. He lifted the hood from her head.
She rubbed her hands vigorously across her face. When she opened her eyes and looked up, a man was leaning over, staring at her. He had finely chiseled features, red-brown hair and a look of disappointment on his face.
There was also a kindness in that face that made Meeral feel comfortable with this young prince who held her prisoner. She tipped her head a bit to the side and said, "What did you expect?"
For a moment she wondered if she had been too bold, but he said, "But your voice is so beautiful"
"My face doesn't live up to it?"
Suddenly Xankald began to laugh. Meeral tried to give him an indignant look but the way he let his head fall back when he laughed was so natural and reassuring after the horror of being enclosed in the blackness that Meeral, too, began to laugh.
"It's a good face," he said. "You could have done worse."
"That's consoling," she said with a tinge of sarcasm, but it did not touch him. Again she squirmed in her chair.
"You look as if you could use a bit of exercise. How would you like a private tour around the grounds?"
When Meeral noted the four soldiers that followed them, Xankald said with a smile, "You should see what it's like when it isn't private."
They walked along carefully laid out paths that were bordered with trumpet-like flowers, some pure white and others a brazen red. Everything smelled fresh and fertile.
"My father -- he'll be back in Binrel soon -- sent a message suggesting I get to know the enhancer from Pactyl," he said.
"From Cyrtuno," she corrected him.
"Oh," he said teasingly. "I should have recognized that you were from Cyrtuno." And he continued describing why he should have known she was from Cyrtuno, obviously never having heard of the place. He finished with, "What is Cyrtuno?"
She laughed, as he had meant her to do, and as she often did on this walk they took together. He wore a broad-brimmed hat, but Meeral was bareheaded and dressed in a dress that was much too warm.
She told him about Cyrtuno and he asked her questions: Could she read? Had she had servants? Did she like meeting people? The questions began to take on a pattern, a pattern that explained the silence between him and MorToak. Now she remembered the words he said just before the silence: "My father is anxious for me to marry." Was this how the Draries planned to acquire the weapon that defeated them in battle?
She told him a little about her life in Cyrtuno including how her mother had insisted she go to school as well as learn to ride horseback. She said that she had moved to Pactyl because her mother had died, her father having died years before. As they returned from the walk, Meeral could feel that her face was wet with perspiration. Her country style clothes were so hot in this southern country that she unbuttoned the top two buttons of her blouse. Xankald stopped and looked at her, not in the manner that other men had looked at her that made her blush, but as if he were evaluating what he saw.
Suddenly his expression changed from kindness to disbelief. He stared at the top of her blouse then reached toward it. She could feel the slight pressure of the chain around her neck. He was holding in his hand the pendant Shejani gave her on her seventeenth birthday. His hand trembled against the skin of her neck.
"Where did you get this?" he asked.
"From my mother."
He stared at it for a moment; his face looked drained of blood. He took her by the elbow and guided her back into the palace. They walked silently down the hall. Only their footsteps and those of the four soldiers could be heard. They came into a room filled with large, painted portraits. Meeral put together all the things that had happened between herself and Xankald and knew exactly what she was looking for. She stood in the doorway, her eyes sweeping over the faces, many of them with a nose, or eyes or hair like that of the man who stood beside her.
Finally she found it and walked directly toward the portrait that hung on the left wall. The tears she should have shed when she first heard that Shejani was dead, now were released. She was at last crying for the loss of her mother.
CHAPTER 21
The picture of Shejani blurred as Meeral stared at it, but she continued staring.
"Tell me," Xankald said.
"My mother. Shejani. How young she looks." She drew in a deep breath. Now she understood why her mother had taught her how to address a prince, how to curtsy, and how to order servants to serve her. Had her mother hoped to return? Meeral would never know and the tears kept falling.
Xankald waited until the flood subsided.
"That is Princess Janshei, my sister," he said.
"But it is Shejani. She looks younger than I am now. But it is her, She was even more beautiful than this."
"She died a short time after this picture was painted."
"That's not true."
"I wish I could believe it, but for years I've accepted it."
Meeral was silent for a moment, then asked, "Where is she buried?"
This time Xankald was silent. "They never found her body," he finally said. He continued as if in a hurry. "I never believed she would commit suicide. That wasn't like her."
"How did she die?"
"I wasn't there. I was nine years old but we were very close. She had always played with me even though she was years older. We rode horseback together, she told me stories she made up. She was my sister and my friend." For a moment he seemed to be reliving something that had happened between himself and his sister and smiled. But then his face grew dark again. "They said she jumped off the cliff," he said.
Janshei's Leap, Meeral remembered.
"First I believed that sh
e really didn't die -- until I got older. Father convinced me. He was right there when she jumped."
"Why did she jump, if she did jump?"
"Oh, she jumped all right. Over the years I've talked to every one who was there. If you say she was your mother, I can't explain it . . . " He stopped and stared at the portrait of his sister, then continued. "Father ordered her to marry a cousin -- an older man who lived on an estate far from Binrel. He was a member of the nobility and, Father said, the best choice for her. She knew he would choose her husband and was reconciled to following the traditions of Drarie. Then she met him. I don't blame her. The man was a pig. He was recently widowed, and when he came to collect his new bride the stories of how he treated his first wife followed him. My sister was very popular and many of the members of the court pointed out to Father that this was not a good husband for his daughter."
"Wouldn't your father listen?"
Xankald shook his head and smiled grimly. "When you meet King Quanzar you won't ask a question like that. In fact, I'm going against his orders by taking the hood off your head. I find myself skirting around his orders more and more. He has these ideas about Lurdoa -- blaming your country for our decline in industry, for his having to raise taxes, even for the death of Janshei -- it's gotten worse every year. It's not good for his health." Xankald suddenly realized that he was saying more than he intended. He said in a softer tone, "When I heard your voice, Meeral. . . But let me show you where it all happened that terrible evening."
He led her to a room with a huge, round table that was covered with a white tablecloth. In the center, ceramic dishes were set in a circle around a bowl of red multi-petaled flowers. Xankald continued, telling her how nobles and royalty sat around this large table one evening. They were going to celebrate the sealing of the promises to marry between Janshei and her unpleasant cousin.
Princess Janshei came in. She was not dressed as was expected for such an occasion, but in the sturdy kind of clothes she might have worn horseback riding. She was carrying a bundle under her arm. Father ordered her to change her clothes and come back for the ceremony. She said, 'I'd rather die than marry him,' and she walked past the table and out there." Xankald pointed to large lawn that extended from the palace to the place where the ground came to an abrupt end. The faraway view of the water of the East Ocean lay below that high bluff. He led Meeral across the lawn, stopping near the edge of the bluff.
"First she walked," Xankald said. "Then she began to run. Father suddenly realized what she planned to do. He leapt up, knocking over his chair -- he was slim and more agile in those days. He reached this spot where we are now standing. She looked back at him for a moment and then she jumped. The people at the table saw her disappear into the fog and darkness."
"Is there water down below?" Meeral asked.
"Yes. The tide was in, so it was probably three feet deep at the most. The bluff has a concave area where it is undercut by the waves, and if she survived she could have come out of the water and stood on a small beach. Father ran around to the Binrel River where they launched a boat. They found nothing at the bottom of the bluff. He called for more boats to search for her body. All they found was a sheet floating in the water.
"Nothing more?" Meeral asked.
"Her jewels were missing from the palace. Some turned up later -- a man had used them to buy a boat -- but it was never clear if he bought them before or after she jumped."
"What was the man's name -- did they know?"
"Sure they knew. It was Boktod, the groom. He had brought a thoroughbred horse from Lurdoa for our stables. When Father saw that he was not only good with horses but a good influence on Janshei, he hired him for a year. Boktod taught my sister to ride sidesaddle, to treat the horses with a calm, steady hand, and to behave a bit more like a princess, all things she had rebelled against when Father tried to teach her. Father wanted to keep the groom longer than the year he promised. The man insisted he must to get back -- something about his mother -- so Father held back Boktod's pay so he couldn't buy his fare back to Lurdoa. Father blamed him for everything that's gone wrong in Drarie ever since -- calls him the worse kind of scoundrel."
"He's wrong. He was a good man. No one ever said anything against my father."
Xankald looked at her in surprise. "So he did marry her. My father tried to get the Lurdoan government to return him to Drarie to stand trial for the murder of Princess Janshei, but they refused."
Meeral remembered what Zavona had told her about Boktod and said, "I heard that they investigated but they said that the man who accused him was more to blame than Boktod."
Xankald nodded his head noncommittally. Meeral wanted to say more in defense of her father, but who is to decide when two people argue about what their fathers did years ago. So she said, "If I am your sister's daughter then you're my uncle."
"I guess I am, Meeral. There was something so familiar about you the moment I heard you speak," he said.
"But not when you saw my face."
He smiled and put a finger on the tip of her nose, the nose that was not at all like Shejani's or his own, and said, "It's a lovely face," and she knew he meant it.
He looked out at the water of the harbor that stretched beyond the edge of the bluff and said, "When Father comes back, I doubt he'll ever accept you as his granddaughter. He'll pass the grudge he holds against your father on to you. He says Boktod robbed your mother's body of her jewelry."
"He would never have done that." Meeral fingered the pendant, the only material object she had from Shejani. "What does it mean?" She asked, holding up the pendant. "Mother gave it to me when I was seventeen and told me to wear it always. She said it would give me courage."
He smiled. "It's a lovely story. Long ago the men of my family went to Lurdoa to bring back their bride. My great, great -- however far back it was -- was a shy and lonely girl in her teens when she came to Drarie. She had led a simple life. She missed Lurdoa and was afraid of the fine noble ladies and gentlemen of Drarie. She couldn't get up the courage to go to the palace parties where a Duke's wife is supposed to be gracious and greet everyone.
"Her husband tried everything he could to make her comfortable. Finally he bought her a parrot. He trained it to say encouraging phrases, such as, "I'm so glad to see you." and "I love the way you look." She kept it with her all the time. Finally that old parrot played his magic on her; she was able to go places without it. But sometimes she panicked when she was in a group of those fine ladies and gentlemen. That's when he had this pendant made. It's platinum and will never tarnish so she could wear it all the time. The curve is a parrot's beak. When she began to feel afraid she ran her finger across it and forgot her feelings of insecurity."
"He must have loved her very much," Meeral said.
That night, Meeral was again locked in her room without any light, just as she had been on the ship. She wondered if Lenera had been able to send messages to Linima in Lurdoa City, but mostly she thought about her mother. She went through everything she could remember, fitting it into Shejani's life as a princess. Had she hoped to go back to Drarie, and bring Meeral with her? She must have missed Prince Xankald, that brother of hers. How odd that Shejani was so close to her young brother. Meeral felt a jarring jealousy for the love her mother had showered on him.
The next morning Lenera, MorToak and Xankald waited for her at a little breakfast table near the large round table. She counted eight soldiers standing at attention. She noticed that two of them kept their eyes on MorToak, two for Lenera, while four of them had their eyes on her. She wished she felt honored by the compliment of that much attention.
Lenera seemed to be in higher spirits than Meeral had ever seen her, irritatingly so. She was wearing a Drarie dress, cut low in front, sleeveless and cool.
"Prince Xankald says he'll teach me to ride if I stay here long enough," Lenera said as if they were at a social gathering. Then she explained that they had dinner together the evening before, the three of them. While
I was locked in a dark room, Meeral thought resentfully, they had a jolly time. How weird to hear them talking as if they were good friends, not prisoners and jailer.
When MorToak and Xankald were deep in conversation, Lenera said, with an excessive burst of enthusiasm. "Let me show you this table cloth. I just can't picture how they wove it, can you?"
The two women walked over to the large table covered by a cloth of tightly woven cotton. Lenera leaned over it and said, "Just get close and look at it, Meeral. Look at the way the pieces are attached with such tiny stitches."
Though Meeral had other things she'd rather think about, she humored her. As she leaned over next to her, their heads close together, a quick frown crossed Lenera's face. She whispered, "I can't reach Linima. I tried this morning ..."
Suddenly Xankald was walking toward them.
Lenera, returned to her bubbly demeanor. She explained that she made a living spinning and admired the way the tablecloth was made. Then she explained how Meeral enhanced spinning.
"We have spinning jennies that can do much more than an individual spinner," Xankald said.
"I could enhance a spinning machine and make it work nine times as fast," Meeral said.
"If you politely invited enhancers from Lurdoa to come and work here," MorToak said, "instead of kidnapping them and shooting cannons at our towns, you'd make a lot of people happier and more prosperous."
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