THE WOMAN: X

The dark blotch on the horizon grew slowly and by midday had resolved into a turreted wall with an irregular line of roofs behind it, rising like a terraced mountain to the slender domed watchtowers of the Plaz. The pilgrims were thick on the Highroad, spreading over the rocky plain on either side. The green abundance farther down the road had given way to sparse patches of dried grass poking up in the lee of rocks on the rock-littered plain that was swept by continual salty breezes from the sea, cool enough at this time of year to make sitting about uncomfortable. With Oras in sight many of the walkers scrambled down from the Highroad, leaving it to the increasing numbers of riders.

Tesc and his family were among the ones who climbed down to the plain, their fat little packbeast stepping daintily over the scattered rocks. The tarom brought out his blue and white kerchief and wiped vigorously at his face. Tucking the kerchief into his sleeve, he looked over the plain. “Not so good going,” he said cheerfully. “But more of it.” His wife and elder daughters shook their skirts in disgust as the fine brown dust settled on feet and hems and crept upward into every wrinkle.

The city rose higher and higher above the horizon while the sun slid into its final quarter. Serroi withdrew into herself, Tayyan’s face swimming before her now, so close, so terribly close, she was to the clandestine race-course and the place where the traxim had eaten her friend, her lover, her shieldmate and second self. She tried to shake off her gloom but each step toward the city was harder to take than the one before.

They reached the wall as the sun was throwing up a fan of crimson and gold in the west.

Tesc wiped at his face with the sodden filthy kerchief. “We got some friends waiting for us at the Tiyrj.” He waved a hand to the east where a large part of the foot traffic was heading, circling around the city wall and disappearing behind it. “You’re welcome to join us. Plenty of room in the tent, you know that.” He looked gravely at her, his round face troubled, his shrewd eyes narrowed with concern for her and Dinafar. “The city’s a bad place for young ones these days.”

Serroi shook her head. “We’d best find our uncle.”

He stared down at the kerchief he was twisting in his big hands. “You’re a good lad, Jern. If your uncle can’t keep you, hunt me up. You’ll do that?”

“The Maiden bless you, kind tarom.” She held out a small gloved hand. “I won’t forget and am most grateful for the thought.” She looked around. Dinafar was just behind her, green-brown eyes wide and glowing. She dipped an awkward curtsey, then gave her hand to Tesc. “Maiden bless,” she murmured.

Serroi and Dinafar watched the family move off, the young ones turning to wave again and again. Serroi smiled. “You’ve made friends.” She eyed the girl thoughtfully. “Dina.…”

“No.” Dinafar’s voice was firm. She turned and headed for the embankment. “I know what you mean to say. You keep trying to shunt me off where you think I’ll be safe.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to be safe, Meie.” She stopped and bit her lip. “Jern. I want more than just being safe. I don’t know what it is. Something. Help me learn.”

“If I don’t get you killed.”

Covered with brown dust, anonymous small figures, they climbed onto the Highroad and moved slowly toward the main gates of Oras, lost among a throng of other browndusted figures trudging into the city. Only one of the thick gates was open; the crowd was narrowed to a thread as it trickled through the gate under the gaze of half a dozen cold-eyed guards. Ahead of Serroi and Dinafar a small woman was hauled roughly to one side. The kerchief she wore was jerked off her head and the guards used it to scrub hard at her face, ignoring her protests and the vehement objections of those with her. While this was going on, Serroi moved through the gate and stepped hastily into a side street, Dinafar close behind her, her eyes sparkling with glee at fooling the guards. Serroi leaned against a wall, her heart thudding in her throat, unshed tears burning in her eyes She pressed her hands against her eyes, struggling to control the tides of emotion pouring through her.

Dinafar fidgeted about for a moment then went to the end of the narrow alley and started talking to a pair of urchins squatting on the stones, pretending to sell battered plums, actually begging. Hearing the noise, Serroi pulled her hands down and stood watching the girl’s animated figure, hands flying in wide expansive gestures. She smiled at the assurance Dinafar had acquired. She’s trying to take care of me now. Sweet strong flower growing from a midden. The Biserica will be good for her—if she ever makes it there.

Dinafar crouched beside the boys, listening intently to their interrupted bursts of speech, echoing their peculiar piping cries as they called out to the passersby. Serroi looked around. The alley was small and dark, a cul-de-sac between high walls. At the far end she could see a pile of refuse and discarded lumber. Where the boys sleep, I suppose. She walked slowly back toward the main street, waited a second, then touched Dinafar’s shoulder. “We better be going.”

The girl looked up, nodded, jumped to her feet. She walked without words beside Serroi as the two of them threaded through the noisy gaping crowd filling the street. Overhead the sky was rapidly darkening and clouds were beginning to gather. Serroi looked repeatedly at the girl, wondering what was bothering her; she was unusually silent and as somber as she had been back in the fisher village. “What’s wrong, Dina?”

“Where are we going? Do you know a place were we can stay?”

Serroi rubbed at her nose. “When you’re ready, I suppose I’ll find out. We’re going to our long lost uncle, little sister.”

“But… huh?” Dinafar stared down at her. She stumbled against a man; he grinned and slid his arm around her, but moved on good naturedly when she pushed him away. “I thought … you’ve really got an uncle here?”

Serroi shook her head. “No, little one; no blood relative but a man who serves the Maiden by serving us.” She glanced up at the clouding sky. “There’s not much time. Let me do the talking when we get to his place. Hurry now.” She walked as rapidly as she could, wriggling through the crowd, pulling Dinafar along with her, ignoring both curses and the indulgent cries of happy people. She led Dinafar rapidly across the city, leaving the main street and working back through narrower and narrower streets until she reached the portside section where the wall was lined with warehouses and grimy taverns.

Close up under the wall there was a battered building, a slowly rotting structure that was standing in pools of high-smelling ooze. The drains were badly plugged around here by refuse and dead men so the nightly rains could not escape and the falling water stayed on the worn pavement, turning a milky white with threads of ocher and yellow-green as if the water itself rotted. Lines of foam edged the pools and drifted in sluggish clumps around lumps of other unidentifiable substances. A few drops of rain splattered into the sluggish fluid, raising a stench that was thick and sour-sweet and strangling. Dinafar gathered her skirt close to her and walked on the tips of her toes with a taut wariness that amused Serroi. “When we go in, keep still,” she said.

“You already said that.” Dinafar pinched her nostrils shut. “Do we have to?” she croaked.

“Yes.” Serroi moved ahead of her and pushed through the swinging door.

Inside, in the small dark foyer, the smells made a massive raid on their senses. What light there was shone red and obscured more than it revealed. Serroi crossed the foyer, Dinafar close behind, and stepped into the taproom. In the light of two lanterns they saw a number of men sitting in small groups at scattered tables, two leaning on the long bar; the smell was more wholesome or at least was overpowered by the varied liquors served here. The small wiry man behind the bar paused in the middle of drawing a mug of ale and stared at them while the hum of voices filling the room fell to silence.

The barman finished with the ale, set the mug before a one-eyed man and came to the end of the bar, scowling at them, his hands fisted against his hipbones. “Git, boy. This ain’t no flowershop.”

Serroi smiled up at him, letting her lips tremble. “Yael-mri speaks in me,” she whispered. More loudly, she said, “Uncle Coperic.” The men at the nearest tables lifted their heads and stared.

The barman set his hands flat on the stained wood, his scowl softening. “Jinnit’s kids?”

“Yes, uncle.”

“What’a doin’ here? Where y’ ma?”

“Home. She got married again two years since and is with child.”

“Stepfather kick you out?”

“Sorta.”

He turned away and yelled into the gloom. “Haqtar! Get over here.” A dull-faced man came shambling to the bar. “Hold bar a while.” He tugged irritably at the ties of his apron, jerked it over his head and thrust it at the man. “This’s no place f’r kids,” he muttered, scowling at the ugly, vicious man. “No credit,” he snapped. “Get goin before you draw drink.”

“Yah, berom.” The words stumbled out of the thick-lipped mouth, the labored voice matched the dull face. His little eyes brightened as he looked past Coperic at Serroi and Dinafar.

“Get way, fool.” Coperic caught hold of a doughy arm and twisted until the man backed off, whining with pain. “These ain’t meat f’r you.” He turned to Serroi and Dinafar. “Maiden’s tits, I give Jinnit hell on this. No place f’r kids. Come on.” He hustled them through a door behind the bar, then squeezed past and led them up a narrow wooden stair that creaked protest at every step, even under Serroi’s light weight. Climbing behind him, Serroi smiled to herself.

Coperic was one of the network of newsgatherers and silent suppliers that the Biserica maintained about the land—and he had other things he did; not even Yael-mri knew them all. A clever man. The staircase was proof enough of that, an efficient and invisible alarm. No man could climb it without giving ample warning of his approach and few would suspect that this was precisely why the steps squealed.

At the top of the staircase a long dim hall stretched back into shadow with floorboards that sank and groaned under their feet. Serroi began to feel that Coperic was a bit too thorough in his precautions. The whole building seemed to be swaying and unsteady under her feet.

Coperic pushed open an unlocked door at the far end of the hall and waved them inside.

Dust covered every surface. Greasy plates sat on an equally greasy table. The dust itself looked as if it would smear over anything it touched. The sheets on the unmade bed were grey with long use and the quilts leaked batting through old tears and were dark with ancient sweat and greasy mottles. The stagnant air held many odors, the strongest being stale sweat and urine. She wrinkled her nose at Coperic. “Don’t you think this is carrying things too far?”

When he didn’t answer, she crossed to the window and peered out through a knothole in one of the rotting shutters. As far as she could tell, the tavern backed onto the citywall; its mossy stones were close by the window. A dead end? Frowning, she turned and scanned his bland wrinkled face. The man who’d arranged those stairs and this squalid room had to have a back door even though that seemed impossible.

“Who the hell are you?” His voice was cold. He stood with his arms folded, his deepset eyes drilling into her.

“Not what I seem.” She pulled the cap off and ran her fingers through her hair until the squashed curls stood out in a wild tangle, then stripped off the gloves and showed him her olive-green hands.

Coperic relaxed. “Maiden’s tits, meie. The whole damn army’s poking about for you.” He jerked a thumb at Dinafar. “Who’s she?”

“My business.” She shook her head. “There’s no danger in her, only to her.”

“It’s done.” He shrugged. “What do you want here?”

“Shelter. A bird.” She rubbed at her eyes. “Nearga-nor is moving on the mijloc; Sons of the Flame involved in it somehow; and there’s a plot against the Domnor, a crazy stupid … never mind, the Biserica has to know.”

“No bird.” He scowled at Dinafar. “Girl, you wait outside a minute.”

Dinafar crossed quickly to Serroi, took hold of her sleeve.

Serroi patted her hand. “We’ll both go. Call us when you’re ready.” She took Dinafar’s arm and hurried her out of the room. In the hallway, the girl started to protest but Serroi silenced her with a headshake. “Wait,” she murmured. “He has a right to his secrets.” She looked off down the hall, remembering that she’d left the cap behind, hoping no one would come and find them.

“Come.” Coperic stood in the doorway, his face unreadable.

As she stepped back into the room with Dinafar behind her, she heard the rain dripping steadily outside. Inside, the gloom had deepened but there was enough light left for her to see the black hole in the wall. She slipped out of her backpack and held it dangling by the straps. Behind her she could hear Dinafar doing the same. She reached out her free hand and the girl took it.

“Through here.” Coperic stood back and waited until they crawled into the dusty hole. After a foot of stone the hole widened suddenly. Serroi had just time to curl her body and roll, then catch Dinafar as she fell through.

Coperic came through and clicked the panel shut. He brushed past them. There was a sliding clash in the darkness, a shower of sparks and a quick lift of flame. Using the tinder, he lit a lamp then pinched the first flame out.

They were in a small comfortable room carved out of the wall’s stone, a room almost painfully neat. There was a padded armchair, a bed neatly made up, a rack of scrolls against one wall, a table with a straight-backed chair pushed under. Opposite the entrance there was another door, a narrow hole closed by heavy planks. Coperic sat on the bed and waved at the stuffed chair. Serroi dropped her pack and sat, Dinafar sinking onto the floor beside her knee. “No bird?”

“Right.” He was more relaxed now, a tired cleverness in his face, shrewdness bright in his eyes, eyes that abruptly narrowed to creases as he yawned, then yawned again, belatedly masking the gape behind a narrow hand. “Sorry, meie, I’ve been on my feet since I don’t know when. About the bird. I tried sending one out a couple of days ago. With Norim and Sons flooding into the city and all the fuss you and your shieldmate kicked up, I got nervous, thought the Biserica ought to know.” He scratched at the crease running from his long nose to the corner of his mouth. “Lots of traxim around, damn stinkin’ demons aping bird-shape, ought to.… I sent out a bird without a message capsule to see what would happen. It got maybe a quarter of a mile. Then the traxim swarmed it, carried it off midtown somewhere, couldn’t track it all the way down, too many demons skitterin’ around. I thought about sending a courier. Changed my mind. With everyone pouring into Oras, anyone heading out would have a lot of unfriendly eyes on him.” He managed a smile. “Maiden’s blood, meie, what the hell did you do?”

“Saw something we shouldn’t.” She leaned back in the chair, one hand over her eyes. “Coperic, did you hear what happened to Tayyan … what is it, Dina?”

Dinafar rose on her knees, wrapped warm hands about Serroi’s. “I wish …” she began. She raised Serroi’s hand and held it against her cheek. “What those guards said was true, meie. You remember I was talking to those boys?”

“Yes.”

“Well, after we’d talked a bit, I asked them why all the fuss at the gate. They … they said that two meie … had … had tried to kill the Domnor. Guards chased them. One got away. The other … the other put a knife in her throat before they could stop her.”

Serroi pulled her hand free, stood, looked blindly around, went to the far wall by the crude exit, folded her arms against the wall and leaned her forehead on them. She shuddered with anguish but she had no tears, no tears for her shieldmate or herself. All the time she’d known—known! But still she’d hoped, irrationally hoped, that she could retrieve her foul betrayal, make all right again. But Tayyan was dead. There was no changing that. No way to say to her I’m sorry. No way to say to her I’ll do anything, anything, anything to make this up to you. A hand touched her shoulder. A quivering voice said, “Meie?”

She swung around, angry, wanting to hurt, but Dinafar’s face was too open, too vulnerable. Serroi opened her mouth to tell the girl to get away from her, to leave her alone, that she couldn’t take Tayyan’s place and was a fool to try. She opened her mouth, then looked past Dinafar at the worn, weary face of Coperic. The resentment washing out of her, leaving behind only a weariness to match his; she sighed, pressed her back against the wall, and let herself slide down until she was sitting on the floor. She looked up. “I’m all right, Dina. Don’t fuss.”

Dinafar dropped to sit on her heels beside her, silent and unhappy.

Serroi swallowed. She was tired, so tired it was hard to think. She lifted a shaking hand, stared at it a moment, let it drop back into her lap. “Coperic, I’d better tell you what really happened. Get this to the Biserica however you can, soon as you can.” Once again she went through the story, her voice dull and even, hiding nothing, excusing nothing. The race, their sneaking out, coming back more than a little drunk. The secret meeting. What she and Tayyan had seen and heard. What happened after, the flight, the boat, the village and what she learned there, the eventful return to Oras. Coperic listened intently, the fingers of one hand tapping restlessly at his knee. When she finally fell silent, he leaned forward, his thin body a taut curve.

“You got loose, meie, why come back here? You should have gone fast as you could to the Biserica.”

“What I said,” Dinafar burst out.

Serroi dropped her head back until the coolness of the stone came through the matting of her hair. “Listen, both of you. Right now I’m hanging on by my fingernails. Don’t try stopping me from doing what I have to do.” She closed her eyes. “Have to do!” she repeated fiercely, then sighed again. “Dina, I know you mean well, but please don’t. I’m fond of you, but you’re … I … I’m sorry, but you’re interfering in something that’s none of your business. I lived twenty-seven years before we met; there’s no part of me you own, child, and a great deal you’ll never understand. I’m sorry.” She opened her eyes, stared blindly at the flickering lamp. “Sorry. People hurt you if you get close enough to them, you hurt them. Sometimes it’s more than you can bear, but you do bear it, you bear it because you have to.” She sat up, paused. “I’m rambling. Coperic, in the morning I’m going to the Temple. The Daughter can get me in to see the Domnor without fuss if she chooses to do so. If nothing goes wrong, I’ll be back by noon. If I’m not … does she know about you, the Daughter?”

“No.” He scanned her face, shook his head slightly. “Why?”

She dipped her fingers into her money sack, eased the tajicho out and held it in the curve of her palm. She stared at it a moment, seeing glimmers from the lamp dancing in the clear crystal; abruptly, she ran her thumb over the hard, bright surface, then tucked the egg-shaped crystal into her boot, squeezing it into a small pocket near the top. “I’m protected well enough from demon eyes and Norim spells. If I’m not back by noon, forget me. What now?”

He frowned. “Hard to say. I’ve been up here long enough; don’t want Haqtar getting snoopy, got to go back down, grumble about having to look after a pair of brats, swear I’ll send you packing come the Scatter.” He stood. “I’d better get the two of you settled. There’re several rooms up here. Not very clean, I’m afraid. Not as bad as that.” He flipped a hand toward the hole in the wall. “I’ll get some sheets, clean ones. Hungry?”

“Too tired to be hungry. Dina?”

“Yes.” The girl stirred. “I’m half starved.”

“That’s settled, then. I’ll bring you something to eat.” He took a step toward the wall, stopped. “Morescad has slapped a curfew on the city despite the Gather crowd. This place closes in an hour. Come.” He gave his hand to Serroi and pulled her onto her feet. “You’ll be all right?”

She nodded. “I’m just tired.”

He looked at her a moment. “Right,” he said dryly. Taking the lamp, he preceded them out of the hidden room; when Serroi crawled from the hole, he handed her the boy’s cap she’d dropped in the middle of the floor. “Better keep this around.” Without waiting for an answer, he strode away, the floorboards creaking under his sandals.

Outside, he stopped at a hall closet to fish out fresh sheets. After handing them a pair each, he went on down the shivering hall to a door close by the head of the stairs. Like everything else here, the door creaked when he pushed it open. He lit the lamp inside from the one he carried, then opened the window a crack. “You’ll be safe enough in here, girl. The door’s stronger than it looks. Soon as we’re out, you drop the bar. Hear? I’ll be up in a little with your food.”

Dinafar nodded, turned slowly, looking unhappily at the small, bare room. “Meie, can’t I stay with you?”

Blinking wearily, Serroi murmured, “You’ll be fine here, Dina.” Followed by Coperic, she left the room, hearing the bar clunk home with unnecessary vigor behind them.

“Touch of temper there.” Coperic brushed past her and shoved open the door directly across the hall.

Serroi stepped inside and looked around. This room was a twin to the other. “She’ll make a good meie, if that’s the path she chooses.”

“A lot of passion in her.”

Serroi chuckled softly. “We don’t vow chastity, you know that well enough, my friend. Only childlessness.”

He touched her cheek lightly, then moved past her and lit the lamp sitting in the middle of a dusty table. He looked down at the chair, frowned, crossed to the bed and pulled off the old tattered sheets. He flicked the ends over the chair and table, then came back to her to stand looking down into her face. He dropped the sheets, kicked them to one side as he lifted a hand and brushed its back very gently along the side of her face. “Now that the girl’s not here, how are you really, little meie?”

“Hanging on.” She dropped cap and rucksack to the floor, smiled tentatively then leaned forward, her head resting in the hollow beneath his collarbone. “I’ve got a job to do,” she murmured. “That helps.”

His fingers played in the small tight curls at the base of her skull. “What about tonight?”

She pushed back, looked up at him. A smallish man, he didn’t tower over her; without the wariness he seemed a gentle, affectionate man entirely different from the cynical manipulator of the bar. She tried to smile. “You offer?”

“Comfort for both of us. A shared solitude. More, if you’re willing.”

“Comfort, ahhh.…” Her knees sagged and she began to cry, hard painful sobs that wracked her body. Sobs she couldn’t stop. Tears finally for the lost shieldmate.

Muttering under his breath, he steered her to the chair and got her seated. Then he slapped new sheets onto the bed, tucked the ragged quilt back in. Finished, he marched back to Serrli. “Stand up.”

Hiccupping and gasping, she stood swaying in front of him. He stripped off her vest and tunic, folded them over the back of the chair. The weaponbelt landed in a broken circle on the table; he pushed her to the bed and sat her down, pulled off her boots, untied the lacings of her trousers, then eased them off and tossed them aside. He sat beside her on the bed, bending over her, smoothing a hand along her shoulders, working on the tight hard muscles there for several moments until she began to relax. He touched her nipple lightly, smiled as he heard her breathing quicken. “More than comfort?” he murmured.

“More, oh yes,” she whispered huskily, pressing her hand over the hand cupping her breast.

He swung his legs up onto the bed, then jerked upright. “Shit,” he muttered. “Forgot, little meie. Not yet, not yet.” He swung back off the bed and tugged her onto her feet, taking her stumbling and unwilling to the door. “Bar it after me, then get back into bed. I’ve got to close up downstairs and get food for the girl. Bar the door. You hear?”

She yawned, then suddenly twisted around and pressed herself against him, locking her hands behind his neck. “I need you,” she whispered. She pulled his head down and kissed him with a kind of desperation.

“Maiden’s tits,” he breathed, then pulled her hands loose. “Bar the door, meie.”

Twisting restlessly about on the bed, she heard sounds in the hall, then a knocking. She sat up, then realized that the knocking was on the door across the hall. Coperic bringing food to Dinafar. She got out of bed and padded to the door, leaned against it, waiting. When a knock sounded by her ear, she deepened her voice. “Who is it?”

“Uncle.” Coperic’s voice.

As he stepped inside, she went back to the bed and sat on its edge, wiping the soles of her feet with the end of the quilt.

He pulled the door shut and barred it. “Far as I know, Haqtar’s the only Plaz spy downstairs; the rest are thieves, a pimp or two, one smuggler.…” He dropped into the rickety chair and unlaced his sandals.

“A friend of yours?” She inspected her feet, then slipped into bed.

“Now, little one, is that a friendly thing to say?” He pulled off his tunic and draped it over hers. “Haqtar’s a fool, no danger to you or anyone. Still it’s best to be careful.” He finished undressing and moved to stand by the bed, frowning thoughtfully down at her. “You should get as much sleep as you can.”

“Cold feet?” She grinned up at him, reached up a hand to him. “Don’t think I could bear nightmares tonight.”

He lifted the covers and slipped in beside her. His body was slight but strong, warm and intensely alive. She snuggled against him, letting that warmth flow through her. The healing contact with other flesh began easing the wounds in her spirit. His hands curved around her shoulders. “Been a long time,” he murmured.

“Mmmmh?”

“Never mind.” He began stroking her brow, caressing the softly quivering eyespot.

“Don’t.” She tried to pull away.

“Hush. Be still.”

She pressed her face against the hard flat muscles of his chest and let the tears come again, gentle healing tears this time, weeping silently until the touch of his hands and her body’s response made her forget why she wept.