Heart of Gold

by Sharon Shinn

  “No. If you are speaking in bluetongue, be plainspoken. If you were conducting the conversation in goldtongue, you would have to be more careful about how you phrased things, but in your own language, speak as you always would.”

  “Why is it,” Nolan asked with a certain exasperation, “that the gulden always speak so obliquely? Do they do it just to be annoying? Because that’s what it seems like.”

  Kitrini smiled faintly. “Well, sometimes they do. When they’re dealing with blueskins. But their own speech is very circuitous—and that’s because their language is mined with pitfalls. There is a certain case you use when you’re addressing an inferior, a different one when you’re addressing a superior, a neutral case if you’re addressing someone to whom your relationship is not yet established … Very tricky. Thus, the syntax is designed to be indirect, so that no one is offended by the accidental misuse of a word. There are so many different ways to say ‘you’ in goldtongue that sometimes even I get confused, and I acquired the language as a child. It’s so complicated it’s almost impossible for nonnatives to learn it. Even if you know goldtongue, and you’re conducting delicate business, you’re better off using some other language, because it’s so easy to make a mistake that will have you evicted from the room.”

  “Maybe you can stay and make sure I don’t make any grave mistakes.”

  “I’m surprised you would ask for my help. You don’t even know me. How do you know I wouldn’t mistranslate on purpose?”

  He looked at her a long time. “Because I trust you,” he said at last.

  “You have no reason to.”

  He spread his hands; a gesture of resignation. “But will you?”

  “I will if Chay allows it. But you must have realized by now that women usually are not invited to conferences such as this. And besides—” She hesitated, then plunged on. “It may not do you as much good as you’re hoping to be seen in my company.”

  “And why would that be?”

  “Chay and I quarreled the last time I was in Geldricht. He may be far from happy to see me again. I spoke to him briefly when he was in the city, and he no longer seemed to be angry, but he will not have forgotten the quarrel.”

  “What did you argue about?”

  “Things that don’t concern you,” she said frigidly.

  He accepted the rebuke by bowing his head and appearing to think everything over. “I must say I’m getting a little nervous,” he said at last. “What will Chay Zanlan do to me if he doesn’t like what I have to say?”

  She gave him a considering look. “And what are the chances that he will like what you have to say?”

  “Not very good,” he admitted.

  “But you feel compelled to tell him something anyway.”

  “I have no choice.”

  “Then perhaps he will take that into account.”

  “But what will he do? How will he treat me?”

  Kitrini shook her head. “I have no idea. I don’t know how he will react to your arrival. I don’t know what you plan to tell him. I don’t know what else he will be in the middle of when we walk in. He has a lot to worry him right now, you realize. His son is in jail, possibly to be accused of murder. The easternmost edge of his land is under assault from greedy indigo imperialists. I happen to know that one of his most lucrative trading contracts is up for renegotiation and that he almost cannot afford to see it fail. How will he view your arrival? Not kindly, unless what you have to say is as important as the questions vexing him already.”

  “Oh, it is,” Nolan said. “It makes everything else insignificant.”

  She looked at him wonderingly, but still she did not ask. Nolan almost thought he might tell her, if she asked. She said, “Then I’m sure he will deal with you with the respect and consideration you deserve.”

  * * *

  * * *

  Silence again, then sleep. Nolan woke several times in the night as the train came to a ragged halt, panted for a few minutes outside some garish station, then strained forward again till it hit its usual steady pace. Now his mind, which had been split into three equally desperate parts, subdivided again. Up till this point, his attention had leapt fitfully from horror at what he had learned, to panic at the thought of confronting Chay Zanlan, to infatuation with the girl beside him (a compartment of his brain that seemed to grow with each passing hour, despite the fact that the other two sections did not in any way diminish). Now, he had opened a fourth door and found another equally awful vista: the image of Colt as terrorist and killer. Like the others, it was too terrible to look upon for long—but anywhere he turned was a view equally as disturbing.

  It was no surprise he could not sleep. No surprise that his skin felt as if it had been injected with acid, one single, liquid layer between the muscle and the flesh. It would be more of a surprise if he survived this adventure with any of his sanity intact.

  And what then—?

  He watched dawn idle over the landscape, spilling forward from behind them as they headed west. Now, they seemed to pass through nothing but city, one row of spectacular houses after another, a little more thoughtfully constructed than the country homes but still built with a pleasing motley and an air of self-satisfaction. They were in the heart of Geldricht, in the gentle foothills before Gold Mountain. Indeed, the sublime and jagged silhouette of the great peak dominated the land from every viewpoint, and they appeared to be headed straight toward it.

  Chay Zanlan did not live on Gold Mountain, of course, though that was what everyone said. He lived in a palace at the base of the mountain—or at least Nolan had always assumed it was a palace. He’d seen pictures in the news monitors, and it looked almost as big as the Complex. Now, having traveled through the gulden countryside, he thought it might just be a larger version of the sort of building all the gulden called home.

  Plenty of room there to incarcerate a visitor who came bearing strange news. No one in the world knew where Nolan had gone. No one would be able to find him if he suddenly disappeared.

  He shook his head vigorously. Last night, Kitrini had told him that they should arrive at Zakto Station sometime after noon. A public conveyance would take them to Chay Zanlan’s palace—and then who knew how long before the great leader would agree to see them? Nolan had thought Kitrini’s company would buy him an instant entree, but she said no. Well, then. He would wait till he was invited in. All day, if necessary; all week.

  And what then—?

  Kitrini stirred, opened her eyes, and gave him one unthinking smile of recognition. Then—it was obvious from her face—she remembered where she was and who she was with, and she frowned quickly to mitigate the effects of the smile. “Where are we?” she said.

  He pointed. “Within sight of Gold Mountain. I think we’ll be at the station in a couple of hours.”

  “Are you ready?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Not even.”

  She rose to her feet, off to the women’s necessary room. “Hold on to that thought,” she advised.

  When she returned, he had cut up some fruit and sliced bread from a loaf, and they ate for a few moments in silence. Then Nolan shook out the day’s ration of pills for her.

  “Oh, not again,” she said impatiently. “I’ve told you—”

  “And I’ve told you,” he said. “You don’t want to be sick.”

  “But I won’t be sick. I have immunities.”

  Nolan looked at her seriously, willing her to believe. “Two months ago,” he said, “three blueskin businessmen returned from a visit to Geldricht. All three of them were sick with a fever the doctors couldn’t identify. Two of them died. A week later, another blueskin died two days after he’d returned from Gold Mountain. Same symptoms. No one’s been able to identify the illness.”

  “I haven’t heard anything about this,” she said, frowning.

  “It hasn’t b
een in the news. Ariana Bayless is afraid to create a panic. But if you worked at a firm that traded with the gulden, you would have received a detailed memo that outlined your health risks. And a prescription for pills just like these.”

  “If they don’t know what caused the fever—” she began, but Nolan interrupted her.

  “Wide-spectrum antibiotic,” he said, shaking the capsules in their case. He was getting in deeper with every lie he told, but he did not think she knew enough about drugs to be able to contradict him. “Preventative. It’s possible it won’t protect you fully, but your chances become a whole lot better.”

  “Oh, all right,” she said ungraciously and held out her hand for a pill. He watched to make sure she didn’t just pretend to swallow it. That would be even more disastrous.

  “How’s your foot?” he asked.

  “Feels pretty bearable this morning.”

  “Probably all this sitting the past couple days has done you good.”

  “Oh, I’m sure,” she said, and there was a sarcastic edge to her voice. “This whole trip has done me no end of good.”

  So of course he had no response to that.

  The train pulled into Zakto Station a little after noon. Zakto was huge, echoing, crammed with people waiting, running, shouting, eating, buying, staring. Nolan counted ten other gates leading into the station and asked Kitrini to have it confirmed: Yes, trains left from Zakto to points all over Geldricht. In fact, the line into the city had been the last one built. Nolan knew he should not be surprised, but he was. He had always thought the train tracks had been laid primarily to link Gold Mountain with the city. Now he learned the indigo had been merely an afterthought.

  “I’m sure,” Kitrini said, “that you would like to shower and make yourself presentable before you approach Chay Zanlan.”

  “Yes,” Nolan said. “I don’t have much in the way of clothing choices with me, but is there something I shouldn’t wear? Some color or style?”

  “No, but be sure and wear your fiancée’s medallion so he can see it.”

  “All right, but why?”

  “Because it’s a symbol he’ll recognize, and the gulden respect symbols. And it will do you no harm for Chay to instantly recognize you as a member of the Higher Hundred.”

  “Very well. Thank you.”

  They separated and headed for the showers. Nolan was getting used to the frank appraisal by the other men in the public rooms, though he still didn’t like it. It was not just his blue skin that attracted their attention, he had realized that almost immediately. They appraised each other just as openly, noting body size, muscle definition, probable strength, and possible sexual prowess. This was not something Kitrini had warned him about—but then, perhaps women did not eye each other with quite the same agenda. He didn’t know if it helped him or hurt him that he was slim, lean, and loose-limbed, whereas the naked gulden men in the showers beside him all seemed to be built of corded muscle wrapped around boxy bones. Would they be pleased that he offered them no physical threat, and thus leave him in peace, or would his vulnerability incite them to easy violence?

  He made no conversation, no eye contact, and everyone left him alone. Oh, how he longed to be in the private, civilized world of Inrhio again.

  He toweled himself off and dressed in the last clean clothes left in his luggage, wrinkled though they were. His hair had a tendency to spiral into wild curls if it wasn’t rigorously dried, and so he spent ten minutes alternately combing it and rubbing his scalp briskly with another towel. He shaved carefully—this was not the day to be sporting a sliver of dried blood—and brushed his teeth twice. He slipped Leesa’s medallion over his neck and took a moment to survey himself in the mirror.

  Even to himself, in this place, he looked alien. How would Chay Zanlan receive him?

  Kitrini was waiting for him when he emerged. She too had taken some effort with her appearance. She was wearing the most colorful of her clothes and a ribbon through her dark hair. Unless he missed his guess, she had also taken the trouble to apply rouge and mascara.

  “Do you have enough money left to buy me something?” she greeted him. “There’s a scarf in that little shop. Chay appreciates frills and bright colors, and I feel a little drab.”

  “You don’t look drab,” Nolan said, digging out his wallet.

  “That’s because you’ve grown to love the true radiance of my inner soul,” she said with a quick flash of humor. “But Chay will like me better if I’m dressed in flame and scarlet.”

  “Then buy as many scarves as you like,” Nolan said. “Because we certainly want Chay to like you.”

  Ten minutes later, they were seated in a narrow trolley similar to the vehicles that serviced the city. Kitrini sat in the back with the gulden women; Nolan sat as near to the back as he dared, so he could keep an eye on her and depart when she did. But most of his attention was on the sights around him. The streets were crowded with all manner of public and private vehicles—many more varieties than could be found in the city—and the trolley was constantly jerking to a halt or lurching forward in response to some break in traffic. The buildings lining the street were a gay mishmash of hues and styles, each bedecked with flags and ribbons and flowers. It all had a circus feel to Nolan, enhanced by the giddy sunshine and the bright clothes of the natives walking by. It seemed a happy, festive carnival.

  This was not at all what he had expected.

  They had ridden perhaps three miles when Kitrini swung to her feet and headed for the exit. Nolan was instantly behind her, hopping down the trolley steps with his luggage in his hand. They were standing before a huge, multilayered building built entirely of a warm, sandy granite. Its narrow grounds were flooded with flowers and edged with hedges. The white flagged walkway leading to the massive doorway was lined with pennants of every shape and color.

  “Clan standards,” Kitrini said, before Nolan had a chance to ask.

  “Impressive,” Nolan said.

  “The flags or the building?”

  “The whole presentation.”

  There were no guards outside, but once they had crossed the lawn and entered, they had to pass a number of checkpoints. There was an electronic search at the door (Kitrini had to explain to Nolan what it was; he didn’t much care for the invasive tingle along his spine and groin). Then they were shown to a small anteroom, where a burly blond guard interviewed them briefly to ask their names and business. Kitrini translated, but she had made it clear Nolan must participate, so he spoke in a firm voice in bluetongue, and she said whatever she pleased to the guard. They were shown to another waiting room where perhaps thirty people were seated.

  “Get comfortable,” Kitrini advised, and settled herself in.

  Nolan sat beside her. “Do you usually have to go through such an ordeal when you come to visit Chay?”

  “I’ve never come before without an invitation or a kurkalo,” she said. “I cannot come and go as I please. I did give them my name, and the secretary should recognize it, and that may get us in sooner than otherwise, but I don’t know. Be patient.”

  Nolan nodded (he had never felt less patient) and looked around him. They were not, he was surprised to see, the only indigo in the room. There were two others, both male, sitting together hunched over what looked like blueprints. There was also an albino sitting on the opposite end of the room, as far as possible from both blueskins and guldmen. He was halfway through a fat book, and Nolan had a vision of him sitting here for days, weeks, months, slowly turning page after page until he had finished it. He wished he had a book of his own to distract him. Here, there was not even landscape to watch, nothing but the thoughts in his head to keep him glum company.

  Kitrini had leaned her head against the back of her chair and appeared to be asleep, though Nolan suspected she was dissembling. More likely, she was reviewing what she would say to Chay Zanlan, before whom she was ap
pearing so unexpectedly under such strange circumstances. Nolan wished she would share with him the contents of her introduction, but he was not used to demanding information from any woman, and he felt he had already used this one hard enough.

  But no matter what Kitrini said, Chay would listen to him. He had to. This was news that could not be strangled.

  Three hours passed. At long intervals, a guard appeared at the doorway, calling out a name, and that lucky petitioner rose to his feet and disappeared. But those hopeful moments were few and far between. Despite his anxiety, Nolan felt exhaustion, and the strain of the past few days begin to work their will. Like Kitrini, he closed his eyes and sagged back in his chair. Images flickered against his eyelids—gulden faces, gulden homes, gulden landscapes—in an exotic kaleidoscope. When he finally returned to Inrhio, would it look odd to him, stark and severe? It was hard now to call all its classic lines to mind, the clean blacks and whites he had lived with all his life, the lush in-country greens, the ordered homes and fields. Surely, once he stepped back inside those boundaries, they would become reassuringly familiar. He would not be in Geldricht that long.

  “Nolan Adelpho and Kitrini Solvano,” the low, gravelly voice announced, in accents so distorted that Nolan did not even recognize his name. Not until Kitrini came to her feet did Nolan realize they had been called. Suddenly panicked, he leapt from his chair, started toward the door, turned back for his suitcase and hurried after Kitrini out the door.

  The guard stopped them both in the hallway, gesturing at their luggage. “We can’t bring our bags into Chay’s presence,” Kitrini told Nolan. “In case we have weapons.”

  “Understandable. Will he watch them for us?”

  “I’m sure he will.”

  There was another brief exchange of words, a young boy was called over to take charge of the baggage, and they were on their way. The inside of Chay’s residence was airy and light, built of high arching ceilings, long hallways with many windows, and unexpected nooks featuring small gardens and fountains. Despite his worries, Nolan found himself responding to the architecture, relaxing a little, believing that nothing too awful could happen in such a pretty place.