“You haven’t.”
A quiet sigh left her. She pulled her hand free to caress his cheek, her expression wistful. “I don’t imagine that you remember this, you were only eight or nine years old, but I once planned to go to the university in Kelamara to study the law. I am not sure Papa really liked the idea, but he agreed to pay for my schooling. Then I met a handsome, silver-tongued man. He completely captivated me and—” Her hands curled into her lap again and she nibbled her lip.
Sherakai saw the effort it took her to hold his gaze and he leaned forward, uncertain how to help her.
“And I left my dreams behind to become a wife,” she finished.
“You were going to read the law?” he asked, astonished and impressed.
“Yes, I was. I made very good use of the library when I was your age. And a friend of Papa’s generously allowed me to pester him with questions and theories and philosophical rants. Oftentimes I advised Papa in his affairs.”
“I’m sure Master Ginsaka liked that.” For reasons he did not understand, the Tanoshan steward acted as if Sherakai did not exist. If they passed in the halls, the older man would ignore him unless forced by circumstances. If required to converse, he did so in the fewest words he could manage and with an air of strained patience.
“Oh, at least as much as he likes getting his robes soaked in the rain.”
The two of them nodded seriously, then Sherakai grinned at his sister. “The man hardly knows I’m alive. May all the powers that might be keep it that way. Tasan gets along with him admirably.”
“Tasan has a way of getting along with most people.” Mimeru set the pastries aside on the table at her elbow. Her hand shook, but she lifted it to press against a cheek gone suddenly more pale.
“Ru?”
“I’m fine…”
“Mimeru!” Sherakai went down on one knee, catching her as she slumped toward him. He managed to keep her from crashing to the floor. Should he run to get Mama or try to get her to the couch? “Help!” he called out, hoping someone would hear.
“Shh,” she whispered so faintly he almost didn’t hear over his clamoring heart. “It’s all right.”
“It is not! You fainted.”
“I’m sorry.” Blindly, she searched for his arm and gave it a weak squeeze. “Give me a moment, then help me lie down, will you?”
“I should get Mama. Or Bairith.”
“No.” She tried to straighten, then leaned her head against his shoulder. “There’s no need.”
“Has this happened before?”
“Yes. Hush.”
He hushed and held her. When she stirred again after several minutes, he helped her across the room to the couch. She swayed alarmingly and he feared he’d drop her. She was taller than he though she weighed about the same. Tasan was right; she was too thin by far.
“I’m sorry, sweetling,” she apologized again as he eased her against the pillows. “The tincture Tylond gave me was supposed to give me strength. Like all the other things he does to me, it doesn’t seem to work.”
“What does he do?” He took her hands in his and gasped. They were ice! "Do you want another blanket?"
"Please."
A sturdy chest yielded a quilt and as he it tucked it around her, she pulled it to her chin, eyes closed.
"What does he do, Ru?" he begged in a desperate, worried whisper.
"He's fixing me to death..." She whispered still and her words came out a little slurred.
“Does he know what’s wrong?”
“He thinks so. I am not sure I’m the one that needs fixing. It won’t matter in the end.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
She did not answer right away, and he folded his hands around hers to warm them. “Ru, I really should get Mama. She’ll know what to do.”
“No. No, I just need you to sit with me for a little while. Will you do that for me, Kai?”
“All right.” And when she felt better, or when she slept, he would go straight to their parents.
Chapter 7
In high summer the celebrations at House Tanoshi took place out of doors. Trestle tables and benches filled the yard. Bright ribbons were strung, and colored torches set up in a wide circle in the center of the courtyard. Within that space people marked out the complicated, graceful steps of the traditional Alshani dances.
Mimeru had put in a brief appearance early in the evening. She’d even taken part in one of the slower dances before returning to her room. She was pretty with a little color in her cheeks, flowers in her hair, and a russet gown that suited her complexion. I feel a little better, she’d told Sherakai, but he didn’t quite believe her. The shadows in her eyes bothered him. Have you thought any more about your new adventure? she asked, deflecting his concern.
Worry for her aside, he could think of little else. The tale of her plans to attend the Kelamara university intrigued him. Mimeru a lawyer? How unexpected and how… inspiring. She thought him fearless. An adventurer. Remembering Uncle Digashi’s stories about the sea stirred his curiosity and wishfulness. He had to quell butterflies a score of times. Was he thinking about this journey to Kesurechi the wrong way around? Would this ‘adventure’ be sad on one hand, but exciting on the other, like Papa had said? A trade, and neither choice a bad one.
He would see the sea…
The back-and-forth tug of desires was going to make him sick. He was determined to make merry, even if it killed him. He danced until his feet ached and ate until his stomach had something real to complain about. It was long past midnight, and finding his bed sounded more appealing every moment. Slipping into a shadowy place in the ward, he paused to catch his breath. He leaned his head against the stone and looked up at the moon and stars. Here on the fringes of the party he could breathe a little easier, think a little more clearly. He loved the people, the lights, the music—and the food!—but the weight of it threatened to overwhelm his senses.
He hadn’t consumed so much food since Mimeru had wed four years ago. If one more girl coyly offered him one more sweet, he would burst. The surrounding walls flickered shades of amber, red, blue, and green from the torches. What a fine trick! One day he would learn how to do it himself. With any luck, the skill didn’t belong only to firebrands, the mages that worked with fire.
He was leaving…
How long did he have? A day? A week? What about the horses? He didn’t think that the school would have any of the Indimi-o in their stables. Did they even have horses? How long would they confine him there? He had no idea, and the uncertainty prompted a wave of nausea.
Rubbing his clammy forehead, he forced himself to think of something else. He had danced with so many girls tonight, and while the dancing itself was nothing new, the attentions he’d received made him a little giddy. His brothers had often teased him about his fondness for dancing, but the girls had looked at him differently tonight. They’d acted differently, too, with the deliberate way they sought him out, smiled at him, touched his arm…
He should perhaps feel guilty for enjoying their attention so much, but he didn’t. He was promised to Jasoshi yen Shinu, not yet married, and she was not even here. The passing of her grandmother had kept the family from attending. While he felt sad for their loss, he didn’t miss them. He hardly knew them. Jasoshi was a pretty, plump girl with enormous brown eyes, a large collection of hair combs from around the world, and a rich father. His father knew Shinu well, but the families rarely visited.
As he leaned on the cool stone wall, he noticed a strange undercurrent winding through the air. It had touched him now and then throughout the evening, but he'd been too distracted to pay it any attention. Was it stronger now? And while he thought about it, what were his brothers up to? He hadn’t seen them all night. If they had plotted mischief and not included him, he would… would… Well, he would come up with something suitably devious.
He trotted up the steps that led to the top of the curtain wall. A few other guests had come here to e
scape the press, too, and did little more than nod greetings. Partway up, where he had a good view of the courtyard, Sherakai searched for his parents.
How strange. Nowhere in the throng did he see a single member of his immediate family. Little Kanya had gone to bed a long time ago, but where was everyone else?
He retraced his steps, going around the crowded yard until he came to the Great House itself. Stiff as rods, the guards on duty opened the doors for him, letting him slip inside without comment. Were they tense, or was it his imagination? Quiet drifted down around him. Thick stone walls and heavy cedar panels muted the sounds of celebration. He stood in the gathering hall for a time, listening and trying to feel the air. If his parents had come inside, where might they have gone?
He checked his father’s study first, but did not find them there, nor in the library, or either of the two rooms parlors. Up the stairs he went, one hand on the smooth oak of the balustrade. Tonight he did not look at the fancifully carved balusters. Head canted as he ascended, he craned to hear. The sound of voices led him down one hall, around a corner and down another to the family solar. It sounded like a quarrel. An argument on the eve of such an auspicious occasion did not bode well. He paused to listen, but the angry voices were tight and low. Closer he glided, moving right along the wall so as not to give himself away on creaking floorboards. He stopped just outside the door.
“—has the means, and you know it well,” he heard his father say.
“But why?” Sherakai’s mother Imarasu demanded in a voice filled with tears.
“Coin or power, why else?” said someone else. The higher pitch sounded like Okata, his sister’s groom.
“If not him, then who?” asked Tameko.
A silence followed, oozing with frustration.
“You,” came the single word, sharp and heavy.
“No. No, you are wrong.”
Kensaka was accusing Father of—what? Sherakai’s fists balled at his sides. How dare he? Tameko was a good man, honorable and just in all things.
“To what end would he kidnap or hide his own sons?” Captain Nayuri, the officer in charge of all Tameko’s soldiers, sounded cool and calm. He always did.
In the hallway, Sherakai’s eyes widened. Tasan, Fazare, and Imitoru were missing? How? Why had no one told him, and had any of the guests besides these heard? No, he shook his head, impatient with himself. If they did, the news would have spread like wildfire and the whole keep would be in an uproar.
“I don’t know. Riches and control?” Bitterness lurked in those words.
A rustling noise came to Sherakai’s ears. Someone moving. As if to confirm his guess, a chair creaked.
“I might as easily say the same of you, Kensaka.” For a wonder, Tameko kept his voice carefully controlled. He could not like being called a liar and a manipulator, especially in his own home. “How long have we been friends?”
Another voice cut in, female. “In times like this it is easy to assume the worst of everyone, including one’s friends.”
“You forget, the entire purpose of this union is to solidify our lands and our incomes.” Tameko still sounded calm. Sherakai wondered how he did it. The desire to rush in and say something, anything, pushed at him.
“A union someone clearly does not want.” Kensaka again. “Perhaps it would be in our best interests to end this here and now.”
“What if this has nothing to do with the marriage of children or property?” Nayuri asked. “What would happen if General Tameko and his three warrior sons no longer defended the Stab?”
The knifelike pass provided access through the mountains between Alshan and Romuru. High, long, and narrow, it was not ideal for moving an army through, but it could be done. Had been done in the days of Tameko’s father. Yasuma alo Arewe—the Arrow—had been part of a company sent to relieve troops guarding the pass. They found them dead. Through treachery, the Romuri had massacred them and flooded the pass with their own soldiers. The newly arrived troop tried to push them back. All but a handful died. Yasuma led that handful, and with nothing but wits and arrows stolen from corpses, he and the tiny company had stoppered the pass and held the Romuri off until help arrived. His actions had restored House Tanoshi to prominence.
“That is a distinct possibility,” Tameko agreed. “And all the more reason to go through with the wedding.”
“And expose my family to the Romuri military?” Kensaka’s voice, outraged. “I think not.”
“You are already exposed,” Tameko said in a voice gone suddenly soft. “And if you do not go through with this, you will lose more than your land.”
“What are you insinuating? Are you threatening me?”
“No,” he said again. He heaved a sigh, and the chair creaked again as he resumed his seat. Sherakai pictured him rubbing his forehead the way he did when things got unexpectedly complicated. “We must go through with this, Kensaka. Elinasha is with child.”
Complete and utter silence followed the announcement.
Gasps of shock or cries of outrage might have masked Sherakai’s own reaction, but as soon as the choked noise left his throat, the door opened and Nayuri grabbed the youth’s ear to yank him unceremoniously inside. Kensaka stood in front of a chair, his face flushed and angry. Okata, the groom, stood behind Elinasha with his hands on her shoulders. Both of them were pale with distress. Okata’s mother stared at the pair with her mouth open in surprise. Imarasu didn’t look at anyone, her gaze on the hands folded tightly in her lap. Tameko glanced at the interruption at the door before getting slowly to his feet.
“How dare you speak such words?” Kensaka hissed, the red in his face turning to purple.
“Because it is the truth,” Okata said. His voice cracked.
“Sherakai.” With a look of resignation Tameko gestured to an unoccupied chair. “Have a seat.”
Nayuri escorted Sherakai across the room by his ear and pushed him down ungently. Sherakai winced and rubbed his wounded appendage.
“Your brothers did not return from their hunt. The group split in half and were separated. Tasan sent two men back with their kill while he searched for the others, but he didn’t return either.” He rubbed his face again. He looked tired. “Two search parties have come back and we’re waiting for news from a third.”
“He went on alone?” Sherakai asked.
“No, he had two companions with him.” The effort to keep his tone gentle and his manner calm on top of fear for his sons made Tameko’s hands shake. He linked them behind his back.
“Why aren’t you looking for them?”
“Good question,” Kensaka muttered, earning an angry glance from his son.
“I have been,” Tameko replied, like a statue in the storm of emotion around him.
Sherakai gestured impatiently at his father’s rich attire. “In those clothes? I don’t think so. You should be out there searching for them! If you won’t, I will. I can find them.”
He was halfway out of his chair when Captain Nayuri caught him. He dug his fingers into Sherakai’s shoulder, pushing him back down. The pain made his eyes sting. “Let go of me!” he growled, twisting down and away, agile as a cat.
Nayuri shoved the chair forward hard. It slammed into Sherakai’s knees and he collapsed into the seat. Before he could rise, the captain caught his shoulder again. “Mind what you say, boy,” he hissed in his ear.
“Stop it, both of you.” Tameko’s order cracked through the air like a whip.
The captain released the youth and stepped back. His dark eyes did not let Sherakai go for an instant. He was a proud man, and hard. He was also the jansu’s officer, counselor, and friend. To cross Tameko was to cross Nayuri.
Sherakai jerked his tunic straight. “I will find my brothers,” he declared. Fury sparked from him in fits and bursts of energy only Tameko would see. “The rest of you can sit here and talk about it if you like. Talk about the wedding and—and Elinasha’s child. Talk about your stupid alliances. And if someone did take them, ma
ybe you could do something genuinely useful and figure out who.”
“Sherakai!” Lady Imarasu breathed, shock finally bringing her gaze up.
Three swift steps brought Lord Kensaka within reach. A crack! cut through the air as he struck Sherakai’s cheek, sending him stumbling backward. Before he’d even caught himself Nayuri gripped Kensaka’s arms and drove him against the wall.
“You will not lay a hand on the jansu’s son again,” he snarled.
Kensaka’s struggle to free himself availed him nothing. The captain’s strength and righteous anger easily gave him the upper hand. “Take your hands off me. The boy needs disciplining and you know it. He has no right to speak to his elders with such disrespect.”
“This is my house. My house,” Tameko repeated, blue eyes flint hard as he speared first Kensaka, then Sherakai with his gaze. “You shame yourselves as well as Tanoshi with your poor behavior. My sons will be found, but they are not the only issue we must deal with.” With a gesture, he signaled for the captain to let Kensaka go.
Trembling with emotion so strong it threatened to overwhelm him, Sherakai curled his hands into fists. Fiery red marked one cheek. His jaw clenched and unclenched. “How can you even think about a wedding when your sons are missing? What kind of father are you? Do you love them at all?”
Kensaka yanked his ornate tunic straight. “If this is the kind of insubordinate, disruptive behavior to be expected from your children, its no wonder your daughter let—”
“Hold your tongue!” Tameko ground out, his hand moving as though pushing something at Lord Kensaka. The man’s eyes bulged and his mouth worked.
Never in his life had Sherakai seen his father use his Gift in such a way. It shocked him to the core and birthed an instinct to retreat. Magic, he reminded himself, and shook his head to clear it. “I will find them,” he insisted, trembling. “I can do it.”
“You will do no such thing.” Angry, Tameko was impressively intimidating. When he rounded on his son Sherakai wanted to shrink into the carpet. “You have no training or experience in something like this. You have no idea what is at stake. You will stay here in the keep, and you will stay safe. Do you understand me?”
Blood and Shadow (The Mage's Gift Book 1) Page 6
