Song of the Silvercades

by K S Nikakis

  ‘See what?’ said Palansa.

  ‘Gold meets gold, two halves are one.’

  ‘The Last Telling,’ breathed Palansa. ‘But surely –’

  Tarkenda cradled her head in her hands. ‘It’s begun.’

  46

  The Silvercades were hidden by blue-black clouds, and everything between Kira’s window and the mountains was smudged by rain. She paced back to the table set with her healing records, but was too restless to take up her pen. She was secretly relieved that the rain had forced the cancellation of more sightseeing with Laryia, having no wish to endure the gaze of strangers again. What she really wanted was to speak to Farid about his knowing of Terak histories, and whether there was anything in Sarnia remotely like a Haelen or a Sanctum, but he was taken up with the Feailmark.

  She opened the door and went out into the cool, water-drenched air of the balcony. The rain made the owl fountain gleam, and pocked the water of its pool. Kira wandered along the balcony fascinated by the water sluicing along the guttering at the edge of the paths like miniature rivers.

  Tierken watched her from the Meeting Hall while he sipped his cotzee. He was too far away to see Kira’s expression, but he could see she was restless. The Marken had paused in their discussions to eat, and were gathered round the plates of food the servers had brought. There was a rumble of informal discussion behind him and Rosham’s voice rose above the others. Tierken grimaced.

  ‘Good weather for redfruit,’ said Milsin at his shoulder.

  ‘But not for herders,’ said Tierken, moving away from the window.

  ‘Good pasture growth and full springs,’ said Milsin, his smile revealing gappy teeth. ‘Not too much to complain about there.’

  ‘Unlike here,’ said Tierken, under his breath.

  Milsin’s good-natured face became thoughtful. ‘A bird is happiest when it’s allowed to sing,’ he said softly.

  Tierken looked at him in surprise. ‘Well, there are many happy birds in the Domain today.’

  Milsin nodded gently.

  The day wore on and the light waned, Kira interrupting her writing to find a lamp. It was still wet, the view out of the window now obscured by a gloomy dusk. She was searching for flints when there was a knock. Kira opened the door to a woman she had never seen before, her face broad and unlined despite the grey in her hair.

  ‘Good evening, Lady. Mouras has sent me,’ she said in Onespeak.

  ‘Mouras?’ repeated Kira.

  ‘Room Master Mouras directs the servers. I am here to see to your needs, Lady.’

  ‘I don’t need anything. I thank you … ?’

  ‘Niria,’ the woman supplied helpfully.

  ‘Niria?’ repeated Kira, knowing she’d heard the name before.

  ‘You’re acquainted with my husband, Lady.’

  ‘Your husband?’ queried Kira, feeling like a half-wit.

  ‘Commander Marin. He rode with the Feailner in the last patrol and gave you escort to Sarnia.’

  Kira smiled in delight. ‘Marin spoke of you, and was most kind to me. I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to say goodbye to him.’

  ‘It would be a great pleasure to be your server, Lady.’

  ‘I’m well used to doing things for myself,’ said Kira, her face warming.

  ‘Servers are part of the Domain,’ said Niria, with quiet dignity.

  ‘I … Come in then,’ said Kira. ‘I’m having trouble lighting the lamp. If you know where the flints are …’

  ‘I’ll light the lamps, make up your bed and ensure the bathing-room is clean. I work quietly and won’t disturb you,’ added Niria, looking over at Kira’s recordings.

  ‘I thank you,’ said Kira, still slightly uncomfortable, as she settled again and pushed the hair out of her eyes.

  ‘I can braid your hair for you, Lady,’ said Niria. ‘That way you’ll find it less of a nuisance.’

  ‘It’s too short.’

  ‘When my daughter was just a wisp, she cut off her braid and we had tears worse than the rain outside. I know a way to braid short hair.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Kira.

  Niria fetched the comb and settled on a chair in front of her, the slight tug and pull reminding Kira of Tena dressing her hair before Turning.

  ‘Marin tells me you’re from Tremen lands. Is it the fashion there for women to wear their hair short?’

  ‘No. Tremen women wear their hair the same way as Terak women,’ said Kira, struggling to steady as memories of Turning swept over her.

  ‘It’s very fair, Lady,’ said Niria, too polite to ask why Kira’s hair was so short. ‘Are the Tremen a fair people?’

  ‘Generally. Some clans are fairer than others, and in Morclan some have hair as bright as snow, and eyes as blue as the sky,’ said Kira, her throat tightening again as she thought of Kest.

  Niria set a braid round the edge of Kira’s face. ‘It suits you, Lady,’ she said when she was finished. ‘I’ll dress it like this for the banquet, if you wish. With hairlets, it will look very well.’

  ‘What banquet?’

  ‘When a Feailmark coincides with a Mid-market, the Domain holds a banquet to celebrate the Feailmark’s ending. The trade leaders and their ladies attend and the Marken and their ladies, as well as those highly placed in the city. It’s held in the Meeting Hall and is very grand indeed. I know the Lady Laryia intends to trade for a new gown at Mid-market.’

  Hopefully she wouldn’t have to attend, thought Kira, the idea of being confined in a crowd of strangers repellent. But at least the ending of the Feailmark would mean that Farid wouldn’t be as busy. There would also be time for another attempt at convincing Tierken of the kin-link.

  Niria bustled out, but Kira had only just started work again when she reappeared.

  ‘Horse Master Ryn sends message you’re to start your riding lessons on the morrow – at dawn. Let’s hope the weather’s kinder,’ she added.

  The rain drifted away during the night, giving Kira a clear sky as she made her way down to the stables the next morning. Ryn led out a horse that was already bridled and saddled.

  ‘The Feailner tells me he’s made a beginning,’ he said, by way of greeting, ‘and had this mare brought from Kessom for you to continue.’

  Kira nodded and looked at the horse, which was the colour of storm clouds, though mottled more lightly on its shoulders and haunches.

  ‘She’s three seasons, and her coat will lighten in time, but it won’t be silver like her brother, the Feailner’s mount,’ said Ryn.

  ‘The Lady Laryia’s mount’s a full sister, too, though she’s but a season behind the Feailner’s mount.’

  ‘It’s kind of the Feailner to let me ride her,’ said Kira. ‘What’s she called?’

  ‘That you’ll have to ask the Feailner. Now, show me how you mount.’

  Ryn didn’t bawl instructions at Kira like Tierken, but his piercing gaze missed nothing.

  By the time the sun was well up and he called a halt, Kira felt even less competent than after her first lesson.

  ‘I’ll see you at dawn on the morrow,’ said Ryn, as he led the mare away.

  Kira had bathed and changed, and started on the platter of fruit that had appeared in her rooms, when Laryia arrived, dressed in a dark brown gown that picked up the colour of her eyes and hair, and showed off her creamy skin. Laryia smiled cheerfully as she settled opposite and selected a piece of sweet yellow fruit.

  ‘Your hair looks beautiful like that, Kira. Did Niria dress it for you?’

  Kira nodded.

  ‘Niria’s lovely. I’m glad Mouras appointed her,’ said Laryia. ‘I thought we’d go to the North Wall gate today, as it gives a good view over Sarnia and towards Kessom. Then we can come back through the Kir Quarter and trade for quatar. That’s sugared fruit in the Kir tongue.’

  They made their way out of the Domain via a gate at the back of the Meeting Hall – the North Domain gate – Laryia said, with two black-clad Guard falling into step behind them. Lar
yia didn’t acknowledge them nor interrupt her description of the way Sarnia was laid out and, after a while, Kira forgot they were there too.

  Terak had planned the city in quarters but the divisions had blurred over time. The Kirs still mainly lived in the western half of Sarnia, alongside the Illians, whereas the eastern quarter was set aside for Terak and Kessomis, though most Kessomis preferred to remain in Kessom.

  ‘And the fourth quarter?’ asked Kira, looking at the buildings they passed. They were of uniform stone, and in good repair, the paving clean and smooth, but there was nothing green. Even Maraschin had had the Queen’s Grove.

  ‘The fourth quarter’s become known as the Caru Quarter, and has lots of gambling and alehouses but not many dwellings. The Sarnia Guard are kept busy, what with the drunkenness and resulting fights,’ said Laryia, pointing over to the two Guard, who had hold of a staggering patrolman.

  ‘Some of the younger patrolmen drink too much too quickly when they come in from patrol, then get into fights. Or they get into fights over slide-stone, or over women in the Caru Quarter. The Sarnia Guard keep them in the cells until they’re sober.’

  ‘Then what happens?’ asked Kira.

  ‘They can be fined or expelled from Sarnia for a time or, if they’re in the cells when their patrol’s due to set out, they’re handed over to the Patrol Commander for punishment. How do the Tremen punish their wrong-doers?’ asked Laryia.

  Kira had grown up away from the longhouses, but she couldn’t recall her father or Merek speaking of any fighting. Kashclan elders sometimes commented on the wildness of Morclan, or the occasional recklessness of their own young men, but there was a high level of tolerance for such behaviour. It was believed that the young, like saplings, became more stable as they grew.

  ‘The Tremen live in much smaller groups than here and there’s much love and respect between them,’ said Kira.

  ‘It sounds like Kessom. But I don’t understand …’

  ‘You don’t understand what?’ asked Kira, dragging her thoughts from Allogrenia.

  ‘Anything! Everything!’ said Laryia with a laugh. ‘How is it you speak Terak?’

  ‘I’m speaking Tremen.’

  ‘But you speak it just like someone who’s spent their entire life in Kessom,’ said Laryia. ‘I want to understand you, Kira. I want us to be friends and to make your time in Sarnia happy.’

  ‘Hasn’t Tierken told you about me?’

  ‘He said your people are called the Tremen and live in the southern forests. He explained that they went there in the days before peoples such as us came into being, and have been hidden there ever since. He said your people were attacked by the Shargh and … you left. You went to Maraschin and worked as a Healer. That the Shargh took you when you went gathering.’

  ‘My people are the Tremen and we do live in the southern forests, but we came from the north, after your peoples were formed. That’s why I speak like a Kessomi.’

  ‘But … but how is that possible? Who were your leaders?’

  ‘Ask your brother.’

  ‘You’ve told Tierken?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You’ve argued over this?’ asked Laryia, searching Kira’s face.

  ‘Yes.’

  Laryia looked troubled and Kira patted her arm. ‘Tierken was kind to me on the journey here, and continues to be kind, as you do,’ she said. ‘Come, I’m looking forward to the quatar,’ she added.

  As they went on, Laryia described the buildings they passed, the trade each carried out, and the role of the Marken in administering Sarnia.

  ‘Do they have knowing of the histories of your people and of treaties?’ asked Kira.

  ‘Their knowing isn’t as great as Tierken’s, and his is less than Farid’s. As Keeper, Farid’s duties include overseeing the Writings Store so he knows what’s there. Why do you ask?’

  ‘We keep Writings of our histories in the forests, too. Where is the Writing Store?’

  ‘At the end of the balcony where our rooms are,’ said Laryia.

  ‘Do you think I could see what’s kept there? I’m interested in finding out more about Sarnia,’ said Kira.

  ‘It’s rather disordered, so you’d need Farid with you,’ said Laryia. ‘I’m sure after the Feailmark he’d be happy to show it to you.’

  47

  The time she’d spent with Kira puzzled Laryia greatly. She waited until the Marken had retired for the night before seeking out Tierken in the Meeting Hall. She’d been thinking about Kira most of the day, and there were more questions than answers in her head. Kira said she spoke Tremen, not Terak, but whatever she insisted on calling the language, she spoke it in exactly the same way as Eris. Only the older Kessomis had the strong lilt and intonation that Eris used, and Laryia could think of no explanation for Kira sharing it.

  Her brother’s behaviour was curious, too, as if he were now deliberately goading those he’d spent the last three seasons placating. He’d spent time with no woman since he’d become Feailner, but now he’d brought Kira into the city. Laryia found Tierken lounging at the table, half-heartedly perusing a list of dues.

  ‘I recognise that look in your eye, Laryia,’ said Tierken lightly. ‘How have I offended you?’

  ‘You haven’t offended me, you’ve puzzled me,’ said Laryia.

  ‘How so?’

  ‘I went down to the stables to see Chime today and found you’d brought a full sister mare from Kessom for Kira. If you want to add more fuel to the gossip fire, you’re certainly going the right way about it, Tierken. Everyone in Sarnia knows that bloodline doesn’t leave our family.’

  ‘Is that your only concern?’

  ‘No. I want to know why Kira speaks Terak like Eris but has never been to Kessom, why she looks more like you than I do, why you brought her here when you should’ve taken her to Maraschin, and what exactly you’ve argued about.’

  ‘A lot of questions, Laryia, and some of them better suited to the loose tongues on the street.’

  ‘Given your similarity, I’m sure the “loose tongues” will want to know who her forebears were, as well,’ said Laryia.

  ‘I’ve already told you.’

  ‘Tell me who she said they were,’ said Laryia in exasperation.

  ‘Kasheron.’

  Laryia’s eyes widened. ‘Oh.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Tierken. ‘Kasheron who fled the warring peoples of the north to establish the healing community of Allogrenia in the southern forests. More or less her words, not mine.’

  ‘Her settlement’s called Allogrenia?’ whispered Laryia.

  Tierken nodded. ‘If she tells the truth, we have as our “guest”, Kiraon of Kashclan – Kasheron’s clan that is – Healer of Allogrenia, seed of the great, gold-eyed Healer Prince Kasheron himself. Hardly news to make the Marken roll in their seats in mirth.’

  ‘But is it possible?’

  ‘Drunken men have seen horses fly, so I suppose it’s possible. Kira certainly believes it, but I believe her people concocted the tale to add glory to their otherwise humble origins. They obviously shared blood with those who became Kessomis, and while the only gold eyes we know of in that line were Kiraon and her sons, there might have been gold-eyed people in the past who never came north. Kira’s and my similarity in that case wouldn’t be that unusual, especially considering the Tremen have kept their blood unmixed.’

  ‘But what if Kira’s correct?’ asked Laryia.

  ‘You mean, what if every tale told and every history recorded in the Writing Store is untrue? That everything I’ve been taught is false? That the knowing of those highest placed in Sarnia, those who squabble in the streets and those herding out on the plain, is wrong? You would think in all these seasons, that at least one of Kasheron’s kin would have been tempted to leave the trees and seek us out. But there’s been no one.’ Tierken shrugged. ‘And you know as well as I do that small peoples tend to embellish their histories. Apparently the Bishali trace their blood to Tallien princes, even th
ough the Talliens tend to be tall and fair and the Bishali short and dark.’

  ‘So, there are more gold-eyed people in the south?’ said Laryia.

  ‘Not according to Kira.’

  ‘But you are so alike! I find it hard to believe that, given everything you’ve told me, all this is pure chance,’ said Laryia.

  ‘We both know Irid has a sense of humour,’ said Tierken. Either that, he thought, or his previous difficulties with the Marken and trader leaders were going to seem as trifling as grit in a boot.

  Laryia gazed at the table, deep in thought. ‘Kira’s called on the kin-link to claim Terak aid for her people, hasn’t she?’ she said suddenly.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you’ve refused?’

  ‘You know Terak law as well as I do.’

  ‘So, when are you going to provide her with an escort south?’

  ‘Never.’

  ‘But –’ started Laryia, in shock.

  ‘As I’ve already explained, the Shargh hunt her and the Tain have shown they can’t protect her. She’ll remain here.’

  Tierken rose and eased his shoulders. ‘It’s late and I have another long day on the morrow in Rosham’s company. Don’t fret about Kira, Laryia. She needs time, that’s all.’

  The rain returned the next day and, despite wearing an oiled cape, Kira was soaked to the skin by the end of her riding lesson. She dripped along the balcony and was almost to her rooms when Laryia’s door opened and Tierken came out in conversation with his sister. Kira caught something about tables and seating, before they saw her.

  ‘You’re drenched, Kira,’ said Laryia. ‘Best get dry. This rain’s not helping me organise the banquet either,’ she said, and hurried away.

  Kira dragged off the cape and shook it.

  ‘Ryn tells me you have a good seat and a light touch,’ said Tierken, following her through to the bathing-room.

  ‘Ryn hasn’t told me that,’ said Kira, drying herself.

  ‘Horse Master Ryn is a man of few words. How do you like the mare?’

  ‘She’s beautiful,’ said Kira, smiling. ‘What have you named her?’