“I see you.” Dedelion’s voice was different; it was a raspy whisper and sounded as though it were coming from somewhere else. “I see you high above the Hiperu. I see the Paref and the entirety of Mahat looking at you. They…so much fear… You are terrifying to them, naked and covered in blood—”
Kareth jerked back so violently Dedelion let go, and Kareth fell hard on the marble floor, knocking over the jug of wine.
“Perhaps he meant to say covered in wine!” The fat man roared with laughter and everyone joined in.
The smoke around Dedelion dissipated into the air. He stumbled a moment, and as his senses came back to him, he began to chuckle softly with the rest. Sebkay was quick to take back the knife and pick up the once again empty bowl as he disappeared back into the crowd—just as suddenly as he had appeared.
Servants had already begun to crouch down and help clean up the spill, while Kareth got back to shaky feet, his hand still throbbing with pain and his face hot with embarrassment. One of the servants asked if he was all right, and he brushed them off, grabbing the broken pitcher and rushing out of the room, the howling laughter and music following him down the hall.
Kareth couldn’t sleep that night. Every time he tried, he saw himself floating in the sky, covered in blood and howling in pain, and would wake up feeling jittery and frightened. He tried to convince himself that Dedelion was just trying to scare him, that they were just having fun making a fool of the servant boy, but the dream came back to him again and again until he gave up all hope of sleep and sat in the kitchens watching the bakers work.
Even though he’d put a salve on it and wrapped it tightly, his hand still hurt as much as it had when Dedelion had been squeezing it, and he readied himself to tell Mistress Ankhet that he might not be able to do his normal duties for the day. He didn’t get a chance to, though. The moment Ankhet walked into the room, she pointed at him and crisply said: “You’ve been summoned.”
“Summoned?” For half a heartbeat he thought she meant the Paref had finally asked to see him, but then he realized it was a ludicrous thought.
“Tzati Imotah desires you.” She frowned as though something were unsettling her.
“Is he angry with me?”
“What?” Ankhet looked confused. “Why in the name of Setmeh’s balls would he be angry with you? What did you do?”
“Nothing! Nothing!” Kareth tried to give a convincing laugh, but she just looked displeased with him.
“Away with you, and come back as soon as you can.” She waved him away, and he ran out of the kitchen. Once he was away from her sight, he slowed down, fear suddenly gripping him. Was Imotah still angry he’d spoken out of turn? Or perhaps he was angry about the spilled wine? Or maybe one of the guests had complained about him?
With every step, a new, more horrible and ridiculous reason planted itself into his mind as to why Imotah had summoned him so early in the day. Of course, the idea that Imotah wasn’t angry with him at all hadn’t actually entered his mind, and so he walked as slowly as he could, creeping up the stairs to the main hall, and ever so slowly walking through the corridors that were now lit with the amber morning sun.
He passed through the great room, which had been completely cleared out, leaving no evidence of the party from the night before. Gone were the cushions and benches, replaced with stone pedestals lining the walls. On each one sat a small bronze statue of a god, all silently judging him. He hurried through and found his way to Imotah’s private chambers. A guard outside looked him over.
“He’s been waiting for you,” the guard muttered in annoyance.
Kareth entered the doorway and stepped into the lush apartments. There were all sorts of plants and frescoes, golden lamps and marble tables, soft carpets and a single musician playing a harp in the corner, but all Kareth saw was Imotah reclining on cushions and chatting pleasantly to another man who sat on a bench.
Their long robes from the night before were gone, replaced with more modest, less flowing, tunics. Their wigs and most of their jewellery had been put away for the next banquet. They turned and looked at Kareth, and Kareth recognized the other man as Dedelion.
“Ah, there’s my little pet,” Imotah smirked.
Kareth felt himself bristle, but forced a pleasant-looking smile on his face.
“What’s your name, boy?” Dedelion asked.
“Kareth,” he answered, choking down his protest that he wasn’t a boy.
“Do you really see the future in your dreams?” He wasn’t asking cruelly; he looked genuinely interested.
“Yes.”
“And what else?”
“What…else?” Kareth looked confused.
“Soothsaying is merely one talent. You need more than one.”
“I…” he felt the throb of his hand and held it up. “I can make salves, medicines. I’m learning from the midwife—”
“Bah!” Dedelion waved his hand dismissively. “Women’s problems. What else?”
Perhaps he was annoyed, or tired, or both, but Kareth suddenly glared at the sorcerer. “I am Kareth Al’Resh of the tribe Gorikin. I am the son of a chief and wear his cloak. I have the tattoo of a man.” he could hear his voice getting louder, stronger. “I was chosen by the Rhagepe to speak for the Goddess of Life. Only I can save Mahat from the wrath of the gods!”
Dedelion looked neither surprised nor impressed. “So you are a Rattlecloak? I thought Imotah was playing me for a fool.”
“I am a Whisperer of the Gods.”
“Enough, I’ve heard enough,” Dedelion stood. “I must thank you for your hospitality and your wine.”
“It is always my pleasure,” Imotah smiled with his words, placing a hand over his heart.
Dedelion looked at Kareth one final time. “I’ll see you soon,” he said darkly.
Kareth felt more confused than when he’d first entered the room. He looked at Imotah, wondering if it was all right to ask a question.
“I hear everything, you know.” Imotah yawned and reached over to a nearby platter with dried dates on it. “All the gossip and the rumours. When Samaki first left you here, I thought you might be fun. I had no idea how much fun, though. Dedelion has asked my permission to let you work for him.”
“Shouldn’t he ask me? There’s nothing I want to learn from that man. I like working in the kitchens and with the midwife.”
Imotah chuckled softly. “Oh, my little pet.” He laughed so hard that for a moment, Kareth wondered if he could still breathe properly. “Did no one tell you? I own you. You are nothing without me. I could kill you right now, and no one would care. Your time with Yunet will stop now.”
Kareth was shocked to realize he knew the midwife’s name. Just how much attention had Imotah been paying him?
“You will work for Dedelion, and I will be richly rewarded. Keeping you has finally paid off.”
“No.”
Imotah cleared his throat, and the room seemed to grow hotter. Kareth felt like something was tightening around him, and the throbbing in his hand grew worse.
“I can see the pride in your eyes. A chief’s son indeed.” He spit the date’s pit onto the floor. “You don’t like being told what to do, and you think you’re somehow better than my other servants. You’re not. You need to learn humility, and you will. And you will work for Dedelion, because my proud little pet, he will get you an audience with the Paref.”
Kareth’s angry protest dried up in his throat. Learning about herbs and magic were nothing. There was only one thing that was important, and that was speaking with the Paref. Kareth cleared his throat. Imotah laughed.
“Please take it,” Kareth pushed his rolled up Ancestral Cloak towards Mistress Ankhet.
The early morning light was coming through the narrow high windows of the kitchen. Most of the servants were just waking up. They were alone in the kitchen, save for the bakers who were too preoccupied with getting the flat breads out of the oven on time to notice the two speaking in hushed tones.
“Why?” she asked, picking a woven basket full of rags off the table, as though saying she couldn’t take his cloak because her hands were full.
Kareth gave the bakers a wary glance and made sure no one was about to walk through the entrance before finally leaning forward and whispering into her ear. They were nearly the same height, though she was at least twice as wide.
“I don’t trust this man.”
Kareth hadn’t seen Dedelion since the morning Imotah announced that he would go to learn from him, but the memory of him still stung Kareth’s mind. He kept imagining Dedelion creeping out of the shadows and grasping for him with his strong bony fingers. The only reason Dedelion was interested in him was the same reason Yunet had been. He was a Whisperer, and to them, that meant he had a power they could take advantage of. Kareth hadn’t minded that from Yunet. Maybe it was because Yunet helped mothers give birth, and because she had taught him so much about medicine. Kareth was certain that Dedelion had no intention of really teaching him anything and should the magician discover Kareth’s Ancestral Cloak and the spiritual power it held, Kareth feared that Dedelion would take it for himself.
“I cannot keep this thing. It is…” Ankhet trailed off, perhaps realizing she was about to say something offensive. “If our master should discover I am keeping something from him—”
“He won’t,” Kareth tried to look as earnest and as convincing as possible. “Imotah does not know it is here.”
It wasn’t a complete lie, as far as Kareth knew. Certainly Imotah had seen him wearing his cloak when they had first met, but it had been turned so the bones were hidden, and Kareth hoped that Imotah either did not know what an Ancestral Cloak was, or hadn’t realized he’d been wearing one at the time. Then again, Imotah was the kind of man who always seemed to uncover secrets. This was a dangerous thing to ask Mistress Ankhet to do for him.
She looked uncertain. “For how long?”
“Until I can find a safe place to hide it,” Kareth smiled, but he didn’t know if there was a safe place to hide it.
Ankhet sighed, shifting the weight of the basket so she could free one hand. She rubbed her eyes, frowning. “All right. I will take it—for now.”
Kareth’s smile broadened. “Thank you. I will never forget this!”
“I know you won’t, because I’ll never let you forget it,” she smiled and shook her head. “Now go, or the tzati will be angry!”
She pushed him towards the door and he ran out, but slowed once he was away from Ankhet’s gaze. He had another piece of business before he went to Imotah. He had no idea when he’d ever be able to return here. He needed to say goodbye to one last person. He ducked his head down the women’s corridor.
“Tahye?” He called down.
“Go away!” a girl called out from one of the rooms, followed by giggling.
Kareth sighed, wondering how long he could afford to wait before Imotah sent someone down there to drag him up. He had no doubt Imotah would do something like that. Kareth had the sickening thought that Imotah would probably enjoy seeing him in distress.
One of the women—an upstairs maid—left the corridor. She wore an elegant, sheer tunic and her face had a sheen of gold powder. She turned her nose up at him.
“Is Tahye awake?” he asked hurriedly.
“She left a while ago,” she said without slowing down.
Kareth stood a moment longer but knew he couldn’t wait. With his skins hefted on his shoulder, he dragged his feet towards the exit, but he went all the same. He took the stairs and stepped out of the servants’ quarters into Imotah’s gardens. He looked around at the lush trees and the multitude of coloured flowers, and then back at the dark entrance to the underbelly of the villa.
Dedelion must live in a rich villa as well, but Kareth would not be sleeping with the servants anymore; he would be an apprentice. He might never have reason to go through a servant’s entrance again. Perhaps he might become so successful that he might be one of the Paref’s favourites, and the Paref would listen to him and heed his warning, and then maybe he could own a villa such as this.
His revelry was cut off by the sound of a woman’s voice. She was so quiet he barely heard her, but he turned to look, feeling someone’s eyes on him. Tahye was standing next to a pomegranate tree, the wide arches of the branches sheltering her from the harsh Mahat sun. She had an apprehensive look on her face, her eyes red, as though she hadn’t slept.
“Kareth, are you really…leaving?” She took a step forward, and Kareth finally realized she wasn’t wearing a wig, nor did she have linen wrapped around her head. She had short black hair, sheered unevenly and without much care, but it looked beautiful to him as the wind caught its wiry strands and it fluttered around her ears and forehead.
“He’s sending me away,” Kareth frowned. “But, I don’t think it will be for long.”
Her face lifted. “Really? When will you be back?”
Kareth kicked at the dirt with his sandaled foot. “I don’t know.”
“I should have been a better friend to you,” she said, her voice now right next to his ear. He looked up and saw they were suddenly face-to-face. She was slightly taller than him, and Kareth had the urge to go on his toes just so they could be eye-to-eye.
“You’ve been my best friend,” my only friend, he wanted to add.
She shook her head. “I was afraid of you. I’m so ashamed,” and tears fell from the corners of her dark eyes, streaking down her soft, bronze cheeks.
Kareth reached towards her without even realizing it, and blushed when he felt his fingers wipe one of her tears away. He tried to say sorry, but all the words broke on his tongue, and he only managed to mutter something incomprehensible. He thought she’d be mad, but then she leaned forward ever so slightly, her head dipping down, and their lips met.
They stayed like that a moment. Kareth’s eyes went wide in surprise, but he could only see the blurry, shape of her eyelashes. Was he supposed to do something? Should he touch her again? Before he had time to decide, he heard a gruff voice call out his name, and just as suddenly as she had kissed him, Tahye darted away, disappearing down the dark entrance of the servants’ quarters.
NUPEMO RIVER
IF YOU COME AS AN EMISSARY FOR THE GODS, YOU MUST BE TREATED AS ONE
Setz’ikimopa, Sapphire Lake, was true to its name, a brilliant lake sparkling sapphire light as the sun shone on its surface. It was massive, the end of it disappearing on the horizon. Sha’di would walk to the lake every day, trying to regain his strength. The first day Qayset practically carried him there. He’d lost a considerable amount of weight and strength, and his arms and legs felt heavy and useless. After a few days, though, he could keep up with Qayset just fine and eventually didn’t need her to coddle him as he went out.
Nnenne sat happily on his shoulder once more. He came to realize Nnenne’s excitement at being around him probably came less from genuine affection as it did from the fact that neither Tenok nor Qayset knew how to care for a bird. They had been feeding her well enough, but she hadn’t had a chance to spread her wings and fly around. Once Sha’di reached the Nupemo River he would untie her jesses and go back to his old routine of baiting a line and swinging it over his head as she dove and swooped in an effort to catch it. She proved to be quite the fisher-bird, flying low over the water and seeming to reach into the water with her claws at random, only to pull out a fish twice her length.
He was alone today, though he wished Qayset had come with him. He enjoyed her company and not just because it was nice to have a woman around. He felt a strong connection to her. She was an outsider as well. She spoke their language little better than he did. He liked asking her about her people, though she would usually
just shrug at his questions.
“We hunters,” she would mostly answer. Gods, history, family. Always, it came back to one thing: “We hunt.”
The last time she’d gone out with him she’d seemed annoyed, maybe because she felt like she was wasting her time helping him. Was it because she’d rather spend her time with Tenok? Every time he asked her a question about her people, she would just ask him the same question about the Whisperers without giving an answer first. And when he asked her if her people married the questions started becoming about Nnenne.
“Who this Nnenne? She bird or woman?” Qayset had been standing in the shallow water up to her knees, holding her spear high, staring at the waters. She had decided that since she was there she might as well catch some dinner.
“Both,” he said, spinning his lure. It was strange to hear someone else speaking about her. He realized suddenly he’d never told anyone about the woman he had left behind. “Nnenne…” he let the lure loose and Nnenne dove for it, splashing into the water, scattering the fish that had gathered around the still Qayset.
He couldn’t help but laugh, though she only looked up at him and glared. “You very annoying man.”
Sha’di sighed and sat down, feeling slightly lightheaded. He rested himself against a tree while Nnenne shook her feathers free of water and took flight. Qayset waited for the waters to go still and then took up her stance once more.
“Well?” she asked after a moment.
“Nnenne…I was hers. She was mine.”
“You left her.”
“The gods sent me, not her.”
“Screw gods.” Qayset threw her spear down, and it cut through the water. She pulled it out just as quickly, a flopping fish on the other end. She took it to the shore and threw it onto a rock, then took out her fire knife and began to cut into its flesh. He wondered if her people and the Rhagepe traded with each other for those knives.
Sha’di looked at her in annoyance, feeling offended but not knowing how to express that. “That not nice to say…” he couldn’t find the right word, “bad words about gods.”
Pekari -The Azure Fish Page 13
