William Nicholson - [Wind on Fire 02]

by Slaves of the Mastery (epub)

  ‘We might be. And we might not. We might be only pretending to give them the Johdila, in order to spring a trap and attack their country.’

  ‘But we’re not!’

  ‘They can’t be sure of that. So they may decide to strike first. But I will strike before them!’

  ‘You’ll strike first, before they strike first?’

  ‘Exactly!’

  ‘How will you know they were ever going to strike first, if they haven’t yet struck?’

  ‘That is my skill, Barzan. That is why the Johjan Guards have been undefeated for the last five years, since I took command.’

  ‘No it isn’t. You’ve been undefeated for the last five years because we haven’t had a war in the last five years.’

  ‘Precisely! I think my point is made.’

  ‘I think you’re barking mad.’

  Barzan went to the Johanna to protest against the arrangement of the guards.

  ‘Don’t you see, greatness? It strikes the wrong note entirely. The note of suspicion, and veiled aggression.’

  ‘I don’t know about that,’ said the Johanna. ‘They’re fine-looking fellows, you know.’

  ‘They’re soldiers, gloriousness. Soldiers fight wars. We do not want a war.’

  ‘Oh, poo poo, Barzan,’ said the Johanna.

  At the request of the Johdi, Ozoh the Wise held a special sign reading before the arrival of the bridegroom and his party. The royal augur, badly frightened by his encounter with Zohon, was now struggling to please both sides. He spun the sacred egg with trembling fingers.

  ‘Oh! Ah!’ he murmured as the egg came to rest.

  ‘Well?’ said the Johdi, who was becoming more anxious every day.

  ‘You see for yourself, fragility! The egg is in Spong!’

  ‘In Spong! Foofy, the egg is in Spong!’

  ‘Well, well, my dear. If it is, then it is, you know.’

  ‘In Spong,’ said Ozoh, ‘the blessings of peace are sustained by the flower of manhood.’ Ozoh was pleased with this phrase, ‘the flower of manhood’. It seemed to him that it showed an inclination towards the Johjan Guards, which would satisfy Zohon, but in a peace-loving way, which would satisfy Barzan.

  ‘So will everything be all right?’ fretted the Johdi.

  ‘Where there is shadow, there must be light,’ said the augur. ‘Though the sun sets, it rises again.’

  ‘That’s quite right, you know,’ said the Johanna, impressed and cheered.

  Zohon’s lookouts now shouted that the visitors had been sighted.

  ‘To your places!’ cried Barzan. ‘Everyone in position!’

  The courtiers and officials formed up in two angled lines, reaching out from the royal carriages in the shape of welcoming arms. The horn players raised their horns to their lips and waited for the signal. Zohon strode up and down, swinging his hammer with suppressed violence. The Johdila and Kestrel pressed close to the gauze-covered window of the carriage, each as eager, though for different reasons, to see the bridegroom’s party arrive.

  Then the horns sounded on the highway, followed by the horns on the approach track, followed by the horns in the camp itself. Into view rode a handsome and brightly-coloured group of young men, wearing cloaks that billowed behind them, over elaborately-embroidered tunics, with plumed hats on their heads.

  ‘Peacocks!’ sneered Zohon to himself as he saw them. ‘I’ll set them squawking before I’m done!’

  Kestrel, peeping through the carriage window, recognised Ortiz at once. He rode in the lead, bareheaded, his thick tawny hair rippling in the breeze. He sat tall in the saddle, conscious that hundreds of eyes were now upon him, and slowed his horse down to a walk. Behind him came his gentleman companions. Behind them his servants. Kestrel looked on him, and felt her whole body stiffen. The memory swept through her so vividly that she could almost smell the burning houses and hear the screams: she saw again that arrogant face turning towards her, not seeing her, the cruel eyes reflecting the red and dancing flames that were destroying her home. This was her enemy. This was the one she had sworn to destroy.

  ‘He’s not so bad-looking,’ said Sisi. ‘And he’s not at all old.’

  ‘He’s a murderer!’ said Kestrel.

  ‘Is he?’ Sisi was surprised. ‘How do you know?’

  Kestrel longed to tell Sisi, but she didn’t trust her not to blurt it out to all the court. For now, her secret was her power. So she replied,

  ‘Look at his face. Don’t you think he looks cruel?’

  ‘Not especially. What does cruel look like?’

  Now Ortiz had dismounted, and all his party were swinging down off their horses. The Johanna and the Johdi descended from their carriage, and the Grand Vizier presented the bridegroom to his royal master. Kestrel could feel Bowman’s nearness, but still she couldn’t see him. Then the gentlemen round Ortiz moved forward, clearing a space, and there he was, standing quietly at the back, holding Ortiz’s horse. He looked just the same; if anything, a little smaller, frailer-seeming beside the big handsome horse. She knew he felt her too, but couldn’t yet see her. A glow of happiness came over her as she gazed at him.

  I can see you.

  Where? Where are you?

  His head turned this way and that, hunting her.

  In the green and gold carriage, with the bride. We’ll be coming out soon.

  Now his eyes were turned directly towards her. But he couldn’t see through the gauze-curtained window.

  The formal introductions were over. The time for the viewing of the bride had come. Footsteps approached the Johdila’s carriage.

  ‘Lower your veil, pet,’ murmured Lunki.

  The door was opened from the outside. The Grand Vizier proclaimed,

  ‘The Johdila Sirharasi, Pearl of Perfection, Radiance of the East, and the Delight of a Million Eyes!’

  Sisi stepped out of her carriage, followed by Lunki and Kestrel. As soon as she was out, Kestrel felt Bowman’s eyes on her, but she avoided looking at him. Her eyes on the ground, she went meekly behind the Johdila, as a good servant should.

  The Johanna took Sisi’s hand as she came up to him, and held it tight. Now that this imposing young bridegroom had come to view Sisi, the Johanna found himself not wanting to let his little girl go.

  ‘Speak, mightiness,’ whispered Barzan.

  ‘Oh, very well,’ sighed the Johanna. So he raised his royal head and addressed his son-in-law to be.

  ‘I present my beloved daughter. May she find favour in your eyes.’

  Ortiz looked at the Johdila. He had not been told she would be veiled. Of course, this marriage was more in the nature of an alliance than a love match, but even so he couldn’t help feeling cheated that he wasn’t to see her face.

  ‘My lady,’ he said, making her a low bow.

  A silence followed.

  ‘It is our custom,’ said the Grand Vizier, in case there was any misunderstanding, ‘for the bride not to speak to the groom until she is married.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Ortiz, feeling even more cheated.

  ‘Her first word to you will be the word which makes her your wife.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Ortiz.

  He looked round, a little at a loss, frowning to conceal the fact; and so caught sight of Kestrel. The Johdila’s young servant, as he presumed her to be, was standing just behind the Johdila, with her eyes cast modestly down, and unveiled. As he looked on her, it seemed to him that he recognised this young woman’s face. He searched his memory, wondering where he could have met her before, not guessing that what was striking him was her resemblance to her twin brother.

  Suddenly her eyes lifted, and met his. He saw a flash of recognition burn there, just for a moment. Then she looked down again. Ortiz felt a shudder of surprise go through him.

  At exactly the same time, Sisi had discovered, standing some way behind her husband to be, a slight young man with a pale face and big dark eyes. The young man was gazing steadily, not at her, but at Kestrel. As she looked at hi
m, his eyes moved to rest on her. Because she was veiled, she was able to gaze directly into his eyes, and he couldn’t tell that she was looking back. She found those dark eyes fascinating. There was so much quietness in them, and so much understanding. She realised then that most men’s gaze was rough and bossy, as if their eyes were forever trying to force something onto her; whereas this gaze was gentle, receptive, kind.

  Bowman, for his part, longed with all his being for one look from Kestrel. He understood that they must not give themselves away, and had made no attempt to reach out to her with his mind. But the temptation to catch her eye was too strong. He turned his gaze from the veiled princess back to his beloved sister, and just at that moment she looked up, and their eyes met. For a fraction of a second, they told each other through their eyes all there was to be said: all their love, all their deep gladness that they were both safe, all their gratitude that they were near each other again. Bowman longed with a terrible aching longing to run into her arms, to feel her touch, as he had done every day of his life, until the coming of the Mastery. But he never moved so much as a finger, and almost as soon as their eyes met, the look was broken again.

  Not before Sisi had seen it all. The look in Bowman’s eyes was unmistakable. He knew Kestrel! At once, gazing on him with this clue to help her, Sisi saw the resemblance. This must be Kestrel’s brother! Secretly excited, she now studied him all over again. He was not as tall as she had hoped, nor did he look strong; but his face was so interesting. It kept changing. He didn’t laugh the way Kestrel laughed, but then there was nothing here to laugh at. He seemed not to know what he was supposed to do. Sisi liked him for that, because she didn’t know what she was supposed to do either.

  She felt a pinch on her arm.

  ‘Make your respects.’ It was her mother, whispering. ‘Return to your carriage.’

  The Johdila did as she was told. Kestrel and Lunki followed behind. As soon as they were back in the carriage, Sisi sent Lunki out on an errand, and turned eagerly to her friend.

  ‘I saw him! He’s your brother! He is, he is, I know it!’

  Kestrel’s confusion gave her away.

  ‘Please,’ she said. ‘You mustn’t tell anyone.’

  ‘Oh no, I won’t, darling! It’ll be our secret. But you have to let me meet him.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘So I can marry him, of course! You have to meet people you’re going to marry.’

  ‘You’re not marrying my brother, Sisi.’

  ‘I am so. He’s sweet.’

  ‘You’re marrying that – that –’

  ‘That murderer, you called him.’

  ‘Well, so he is.’

  ‘I like your brother better.’

  ‘You’re to forget about my brother. No one’s to know he’s my brother.’

  ‘Why? I don’t understand. Why can’t we just send for him to come and visit us? Don’t you want to see him?’

  Reluctantly, Kestrel realised she would have to explain, at least in part.

  ‘He’s a slave, Sisi. So are all my family. I’m looking for a way to help them escape.’

  ‘Kess, how simply thrilling! What way?’

  ‘I don’t know yet.’

  ‘I have an idea! I’ll ask the Master to give them to me, as a wedding present.’

  Kestrel was touched. She smiled, but shook her head.

  ‘It’s not just my family. It’s my people.’

  ‘How many is that?’

  ‘Thousands and thousands.’

  ‘Oh.’ Sisi was dismayed. ‘That’s too many, Kess. You’ll never find a way for thousands to escape.’

  ‘Yes, I will. I want to, and I have to, and I will!’

  Her fierce determination thrilled the Johdila.

  ‘I expect you will, too, Kess,’ she said. Then, with sudden dismay, ‘But what will happen to me? I’ll have to marry the murderer, won’t I?’

  ‘Who knows? No one ever knows what will happen until it happens.’

  But Kestrel had no intention of waiting for some unknown fate to intervene. Now that she had seen Bowman, now that they could communicate, she was determined to carry out her plan to the end. All the necessary pieces were falling into place. She and Bowman, working together, could do anything. And as for Sisi – she preferred not to think about Sisi. The unfortunate fact was she was growing fond of her. She had thought at first that Sisi was stupid, but now she realised she was simply ignorant. If anyone was stupid, it was Zohon. She had laughed at him to start with, but now she knew that a vain and stupid man with a sharp knife is not funny at all. How could she deliver Sisi into the clutches of a man like that? But would she be any better off with the murderer Ortiz, to whom her family were selling her? So Kestrel resolved to pursue her plan whatever the consequences, and to trust to the inspiration of the moment to save Sisi.

  Marius Semeon Ortiz rode back to the High Domain in a thoughtful silence. His mind was on the young woman who had attended the Johdila. She wasn’t what anyone would call beautiful, but there was something about her that was hard to forget. What was it? A directness of manner, a boldness in her eyes, even a touch of wildness. And the mouth – he imagined that mouth smiling. He imagined the lips forming into a kiss. He imagined kissing – With a start, he forced himself to break off such a ridiculous train of thought. If his circumstances had been different, he might perhaps have sought to know the young stranger better. But his duty lay clear before him. He would marry the Johdila, and so bring the immense Sovereignty of Gang under the Master’s control. The Master would be proud of him, and would make him his heir. In time, all the power and wealth of the Mastery would be his.

  He gazed down the gentle sloping land towards the lake, and the city-palace that rose from its waters. In just a few short days now he would be married. His bride, the Johdila Sirharasi of Gang, would come to live with him in his beautiful rooms. Her servants would come with her. The fascinating young woman with the dark eyes would have a bed under his roof. He would pass her in the passages. Her eyes would look up and meet his. Her arm would brush against his arm. He would turn, to find she had also turned, and was looking at him. He would reach out a hand, draw her close, kiss her neck, her cheeks, her lips –

  Boomba-boomba-boomba – The horses’ hooves clattered over the timbers of the causeway. Ortiz blinked, roused from his daydream.

  What’s happened to me, he thought in alarm? I don’t know this young woman’s name. I’ve not spoken a word to her. I’ve looked at her once, for barely a second. It’s ridiculous, impossible, and untrue, to suppose that I’ve fallen in love.

  Fallen in love!

  The words alone, spoken only in his head, made him tremble with delight. Fallen in love? Of course not! Fallen in love? It was out of the question. How could the heir to the Mastery ride out to view his future bride, and fall in love with the wrong woman?

  15

  The secret of the Mastery

  Bowman rode back with his master to the High Domain, eager for the first opportunity to return to his family. Ortiz had required him to remain in the city-palace overnight, allocating for his use a room more suited to a friend than a servant; but he had still not told Bowman what his particular duties were to be. He treated him with courtesy, and sought his assistance as if he were asking a favour rather than giving an order. Therefore Bowman hoped he would grant his urgent request.

  However, once back in his quarters, Ortiz dismissed all the others, and asked Bowman to stay. He beckoned him to join him on his private terrace. Here, where a fine view of the city was laid out before him, Ortiz was accustomed to come when he wanted to reflect.

  Bowman was just preparing to make his request when Ortiz said abruptly,

  ‘What did you think of my bride?’

  ‘Your bride?’

  ‘Her beauty? The sweetness of her voice? Her temper, her manner, her understanding?’

  ‘But – she was veiled. She never spoke.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘
Sir –’

  ‘What is marriage?’ Ortiz was talking as much to himself as to Bowman, driven by confused currents within himself. ‘An arrangement, nothing more. Not love. Not even happiness. Only a fool expects to love his wife.’

  Bowman hardly knew how to respond to this, so he kept silent.

  ‘So you see, love has nothing whatsoever to do with this marriage. The wedding proceeds as planned. Business as usual. I can tell the Master that I am perfectly satisfied. Is that clear?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Bowman had been so full of thoughts of his sister that he had not been paying close attention to Ortiz. He now realised he had no idea what was going on inside his young master.

  ‘I suppose you wonder what I’m talking about.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘I’m talking about nonsense, about moonshine, about dreams and shadows. Look!’ He gestured over the glowing domes of the city. ‘Has there ever been so beautiful a city? Have men ever lived so well? This is real, this is lasting. Not some fleeting glimpse of how it might be to – to – what? To be interested in another person? To catch their eye? To hope for an answering smile?’

  He turned an eager face to Bowman’s, and Bowman caught the excitement of his feelings. Like all lovers, Ortiz was overwhelmed by an impulse to share his emotion with someone else.

  ‘I can talk to you, can’t I? You understand me, at least a little, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Bowman; beginning, belatedly, to investigate.

  ‘One look! Isn’t it absurd? How can so little lead on to so much? I feel as if I’ve peeped through a tiny hole in a door, a pinhole, and seen on the other side – myself, leading a different life.’

  Bowman was thinking fast. This burst of passion could not have been prompted by the veiled Johdila Sirharasi.

  ‘One look from a pair of dark eyes!’ said Ortiz with a sigh.

  Now Bowman was there.

  ‘The Johdila’s servant?’

  ‘Ah! You saw her too?’

  ‘Yes. I saw her.’

  ‘I tell you, if I wasn’t about to be married, I would hope – I would ask – I would wish – to know her better.’