True dark again. Nothing to see out the train’s smudged window. Nolan stared out anyway, since it was all he felt safe doing. He was sick of this strange food, sick of the endless lazy rocking of the train, sick of his own thoughts of outrage and betrayal.
And electrified by this woman who traveled beside him, instructing him and mocking him by turns, revealing herself more with every word, confusing him more with every syllable. She looked every inch the indigo heiress, with that flawless blue skin, those aristocratic features, that turn of expression that could make a man feel like contaminated mud beneath the most expensively shod feet.
And yet she had rejected that pampered lifestyle wholesale. She had chosen to live among foreigners, adopting many of their beliefs—but challenging that lifestyle as much as she challenged the one that was hers by birthright. There did not seem to be a place for her either in the ordered scheme of the gulden world or the rigid caste system of the indigo. She was like no one he had ever encountered before. He could not get his mind to track with hers; he could not comprehend her motives or her values.
Why had she come with him? Why—since he had been the most lax of kidnappers—had she not fled from him at one of the stations they had passed through? Why had she not asked one of their fellow travelers for aid? Of course, given what she had told him about the gulden world, she may have had a hard time finding a champion. Traveling with him, she must appear to be under his protection, and in Geldricht, that relationship seemed sacrosanct. But she was a demonstrably resourceful girl. She could have escaped him if she would.
She must have her own reasons for returning to Geldricht, and to Chay Zanlan. There was no other explanation.
She was nothing to him—just a means, a key to a door that might be locked to him despite her—and yet he found himself, as the hours passed, growing more and more obsessed with her. What a passionate creature! So alive, so furious, so contradictory. For her, nothing came on faith. Nothing was immutable. Nothing could not be changed or overturned. Leesa would not have three words to say to her, and yet her heritage was every bit as rich, as impressive as Leesa’s. Colt would hate her, instantly, comprehensively, and yet she knew as much about Colt and his upbringing as she knew about her own family. She was reserved and civilized, both in speech and manner, and yet her very existence was iconoclastic. She was a living dare to both of those insulated worlds, indigo and gulden. Her life said to them, “You may be well enough as you are, but you could be so much better.”
He wanted her to talk forever; he wanted to ask her increasingly more intimate questions. She had not mentioned her imprisoned gulden lover, though he was the reason she had come with Nolan this far. She had not clarified her relationship with Chay. She had not asked Nolan to explain what possible reason he could have for dragging her so abruptly from her home, using her to gain entry into an alien society, offering violence to her loved ones.
(But did she love them? Did she truly love Jex Zanlan? She had scarcely mentioned him. But then, Nolan had mentioned Leesa only once. He had not felt much like talking about his betrothed.)
To love this girl would be to embrace fire and whirlwind and immolation. At least, that would be true for Nolan. Perhaps Jex Zanlan was flame and cyclone himself, and he would not notice how this woman churned through him, realigning his molecules, resurfacing his skin. For Nolan, she would be catastrophic, she would be upheaval on the grandest scale.
But he needn’t worry. She was not intended for him, either by the fates or the dictates of his own society. Calmer things were in store for him, once this trip was over. He would never lay eyes on Kitrini Candachi again.
Kitrini. He had not even said her name aloud this whole time.
“Kitrini,” he said now, almost without volition. He was still staring out the window, his face turned away from her, but she heard him anyway. She stirred, as if shaking herself awake, and looked his way.
“Yes?” she said.
He shook his head. “I was just wondering if you were awake. How’s your foot? Still hurt?”
“A little. It’s getting better, though.”
“You want another painkiller?”
“Before we sleep for the night, maybe.”
He turned to look at her, slowly, knowing (from his experiences the past day and a half) what a fresh shock it would be to see her face. Two eyes, a small nose, high cheeks, that familiar indigo skin—what was there about this collection of features to make his heart pause, actually shut down for three beats, and then gallop forward again at a clumsy, frantic pace? “You never told me,” he said in a casual voice, “how you injured yourself.”
An indescribable expression crossed her face. Nolan tried to catalog the swift emotions: pain, embarrassment, a lingering anxiety. “I was caught in the blast that shut down the Centrifuge,” she said shortly.
Nolan’s eyes widened. “You were? I thought nobody survived that.”
“A handful of us only. No reason to it—the survivors were scattered over the whole area, our cars interspersed with the cars of the dead ones. Luck—fate—who knows? But it makes me feel very strange to have lived through something almost no one else survived.”
“And most of them were indigo, weren’t they? The ones who died?”
“Why would you say that?” she shot at him angrily, taking him completely by surprise. “Gulden ride the Centrifuge!”
“I know—I just—since the explosion happened at South Zero—”
“They haven’t discovered what caused it yet. Or at least, they hadn’t by the time we left the city. There’s no reason to think it was a bomb.”
“I didn’t think—did I say—”
“You implied that someone had set a bomb at South Zero to kill a bunch of blueskins,” she said furiously.
Ah. Of course. The terrorist lover in jail. No wonder she was touchy on this subject. “I didn’t mean to imply that,” he said gently. “Frankly, I don’t have a clue what started the explosion, and I haven’t given it much thought. I do know that it disrupted my life most inconveniently.”
“Well, Jex had nothing to do with it.”
“I’m sure he didn’t.”
Now she gave him a look of renewed hostility. “And why are you so sure of that?” she demanded illogically. “He set off a blast in the medical center, after all.”
Nolan spread his hands. She baffled him. “I just assumed he wouldn’t be capable of something so—so horrifying.”
“And why would you assume that?”
“Because you love him,” he said softly. “And you don’t seem likely to love a murderer.”
Now she was the one to turn her face away. Her arms were wrapped tightly across her chest, and she had drawn her feet up to the edge of the seat, so that she sat in a small, folded position, looking as though she would prefer to disappear. “He told me himself,” she said in a lost voice. “He swore to me that he did not plan for any bomb to go off in the Centrifuge. Why wouldn’t I believe him?”
“Well, it might not even have been a bomb,” Nolan said soothingly. “It may have been some electrical problem, I heard. Or a spark setting off some underground gases. They’re looking into it.”
“It was a bomb,” she said, still in that frail voice. “You know some of the gulden have sworn they’ll do anything to stop the Carbonnier Extension. This is one of the things they’ll do.”
“But even if that’s so—Jex is still in prison, isn’t he? How could he have had anything to do with it?”
“He does have visitors,” she said in a strangled voice.
Nolan had a sudden vision of Colt, caught by Cerisa as he attempted to meet with Jex Zanlan in stealth. But surely Colt was not one of that band of terrorists. Colt had a fine disdain for all things indigo, but he was not a destructive man. He had chosen a career as a scientist, a preserver of life; he would not wantonly and randomly destroy it. And certainly he would not have risked the lives of his coworkers at the Biolab, many of whom rode the Centrifuge home at night, many of whom would have been at risk that fateful evening if Pakt had not kept them after hours with a meeting …
Nolan’s mind came to a sudden dead halt. Such an evening meeting was rare. Not unprecedented, but far from common. Why had Pakt chosen that night of all others to discuss items even he had agreed could have waited till morning? Had Colt warned him about the bomb? Surely not, that could never be—Pakt would unquestionably have reported such information to Cerisa, to Ariana Bayless. But perhaps Colt had spoken more enigmatically—“There will be trouble tonight. Everyone will be safe if they stay in the Biolab until dark.” That would not have given Pakt enough information to report, but enough to make him keep the others at his side. Perhaps Colt had not even said that much—perhaps he had merely told Pakt, “You’d better stay late at the lab tonight,” and Pakt had taken it upon himself to keep them all safe. That seemed realistic. That seemed possible.
But then that would make Colt a terrorist. That would make Colt a murderer. That would make the man Nolan knew a monster that he could not recognize.
He shook his head, trying to shake away the vision. Melina would be able to clear it all up for him, if he ever got back to the city, if he ever had a chance to speak to his friends again. His whole life seemed so far away, unreal, something he had dreamed of in a fevered sleep. He shook his head again, more forcefully.
“What? You think he isn’t allowed to have visitors? He is. I’ve seen him myself in his cell at the Complex.”
Her words made no sense until he was able to recall what she had said just before his brain descended into dark speculation. “No—I was thinking about something else—sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” he stammered.
“Well, let’s not talk about it anymore,” she said.
“Tell me one thing,” he said. “How does Chay feel about Jex? And some of his more—violent activities?”
“He hasn’t told me,” she said in repressive tones. “Why would he discuss his son with me? A man of honor would do no such thing.”
“You must have formed an opinion,” he persisted.
“I think—I think Chay has a very mixed reaction to Jex’s strong opposition to Ariana Bayless,” she said reluctantly. “On the one hand, he’s proud of Jex for being so forceful, for following his convictions to the blind, bitter end. The gulden have always loved a man who was willing to die for a belief. And, in his heart, Chay agrees with Jex—he does not want to see the Carbonnier Extension. He does not want the indigo to take another inch of land from the gulden. On the other hand, Chay has rejected violence his whole life. He has preached negotiation and strategy—still forceful, but much less brutal. So he would not endorse Jex’s methods even if they were successful. And I believe the parent in him fears desperately that Jex’s methods will not be successful, and that Jex will lose his life in this endeavor. And Jex is Chay’s only son. So you can imagine how deep such a grief would go.”
“And you?” he said, before he could stop himself. “How deep would such a grief go with you?”
She gestured; a motion of helplessness. “He is my life,” she said simply. “He has been since I can remember. How do you give up something like that? But I do not know that Jex will survive the course he has set for himself. And then—” She gestured again. Nolan made no answer. There were no words.
They were silent for another hour or two. Nolan was surprised when Kitrini was the one to speak next.
“Have you considered,” she said, “exactly what you will say to Chay when you approach him?”
He looked at her dumbly. He could scarcely credit what he had to tell Chay Zanlan; he had not thought how to word it. “No,” he said. “Is there some way I should address him? Some title he goes by?”
“There are no titles among the gulden, but if you do not know a man, it is considered polite to refer to him by his full name every time you speak to him. As he will address you by yours. And do not come directly to the point. Make civil inquiries first. Ask about his health. Comment on the beauty of the landscape in Geldricht. These show you have an interest in the man, not just the issue.”
“All right. But what I have to tell him is fairly urgent.”
“He will have guessed that,” she said dryly, “by your very appearance at his door.”
“Does he speak bluetongue?”
“Fluently.”
“Once we get to—to the issue—can I speak straight out? Or must I talk in that roundabout way that I have heard the gulden use?”
“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 been 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 appearing 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.
But he snapped back to dread the instant they were ushered into a wide, formal room, and Chay Zanlan turned to gaze at them. The guldman was just as Nolan remembered him from those brief glimpses from Melina’s window, only up close he was even more intimidating. He was more than six feet tall, broad-chested, stockily built, so leonine and so powerful that he appeared to radiate strength and energy. Even the faint sweep of white in the red hair, even the weathered lines around the intense gray eyes, did nothing to age or diminish him. He appeared to be a man in the prime of life, at the height of his physical and intellectual abilities, and for the first time Nolan wondered if he might be wrong.
If so, utter disaster. He was a fool beyond calculation. And he would deserve any scorn or punishment that could be meted out to him, either by this race or his own.
He stood stock-still, waiting. Kitrini had said he should allow Chay to speak first, though she had been uncertain whether the guldman would recognize her or treat her like a woman as invisible as any other. “Which would be a good sign?” he had asked, and she had given a hollow laugh. “I don’t know,” she had replied.
It seemed like a full minute that Chay Zanlan assessed them, his eyes flicking from one face to the other, but everything else about him immobile. Then he took three majestic steps across the room and enfolded Kitrini in a massive hug.
“Kit,” the guldman said, and then a spate of other words that Nolan could not recognize. Kit? That was how she was called here? With so many other things to think about, Nolan’s mind fastened on to that fact. Kit. He liked it. It suited her.
Chay Zanlan released her and addressed another comment to her in goldtongue. She answered in the same language, seeming entirely at ease, though Nolan sensed she was not. He continued to stand very quietly. Patience was the key here. That oblique speech. That indirect approach. He must remember to proceed as Kitrini had told him.
As Kit had told him.
Finally, after an interminable conversation in which Nolan had no part, Chay Zanlan gestured at his other guest and switched to bluetongue. He had a perfect command of the language, Nolan noted; someone had taught him well.
“So, Kit, I see you have traveled here in the company of a blueskin man,” the gulden leader said casually.
“Yes, he was most interested in making your acquaintance.”
“I am always curious to meet friends of my friend’s daughter.”
“I explained to him that you are a very busy man and do not have much time for idle talk.”
“That is true.”
“And he assured me he would not waste your time with insignificant matters.”
“That is good to hear. In your journey here, did he explain to you what weighty topics he wished to discuss with me?”
“No, he did not,” Kitrini said flatly.
Chay inclined his head. “That is well. A man should not debate such issues lightly with a woman.”
Kit was silent. Chay appeared to consider. Nolan thought his tension must send him shrieking across the room. He clenched his hands till the nails scarred the palms. “And yet, some women have valuable insights into the hearts of men. My wife, for instance, can often tell me what it is I am thinking even when I have not resolved my thoughts.”
Kit smiled faintly. “The lady Rell is wise in many ways.”
“And you yourself are a woman of uncommon intelligence. Your opinion at times has been most welcome to me.”
“I thank you for your respect.”
“Then let me ask you. Do you believe this man, this indigo stranger, has any matters of true import to discuss with me? For I am in fact a busy man, and I will turn him away without a hearing if you advise me to do so.”
Now Nolan’s body was strung tight with astonishment. Nothing Kitrini had told him, nothing that he knew about the gulden hierarchy, had led him to expect such a turn of events, that his chance to speak to the gulden ruler would rest in the hands of a woman he had coerced into this venture. She had shown him a surprising tolerance, despite her moments of bitter scorn, but he had given her no reason to trust him, no reason to think him anything but a lunatic. A word from her now, and his opportunity would be thrown away; even if Nolan was dragged shouting and struggling from the room, Chay would not listen to him, would not acknowledge a single syllable. And Nolan could not believe her word would be a good one.
She seemed to hesitate a long time, weighing her response, but Chay showed no impatience. Nolan, on the other hand, felt his veins stretch and coil around his bones; he felt his feet drift dizzily above the floor. He dug his nails more deeply into his skin and said nothing.
“I believe,” Kitrini said slowly, “that he had a compelling reason to make this journey. It is not a thing lightly undertaken, to leave your familiar home to travel to a place where you have no friends. He is not a man to do such a thing on a whim. Whatever news he brings you must be momentous indeed.”
“And should I believe him? For blueskins have lied before to guldmen. He may have a great cause, but it may be great only to his nation. Will he speak to me in honest words?”
Again, she seemed to struggle with her reply, searching her soul before she formed the words. “I will not lie to you,” she said, and Nolan went limp with fear. “I did not come here of my own free will. This man induced me to accompany him through threats and offers of violence. But I would have found a way to divert him, or a way to warn you, if I had not come to believe he had a message that you must hear. I would not put you at risk. I would have led him to the edge of Gold Mountain and pushed him into the sea rather than bring him to your door.”
“And yet my door is precisely where you have brought him,” Chay said. “So tell me plainly—does this mean that you trust him?”
“I trust him,” she said in a low voice, and Nolan had to stop breathing to hear her. “I cannot tell you why. I can only judge him by my heart, and my heart has been wrong before. But I believe he is a good man. I believe he has been steeped in kindness. I would be willing to see my life forfeit if he were able to do you harm.”
Nolan stared at her, everything else washed away by stupefaction. When had she developed this opinion, or could she possibly be lying? She was gazing unwinking at Chay Zanlan, her face set and serious, her expression almost fierce. She looked like a true believer. Chay, who had never once glanced at Nolan since this conversation began, gazed back.
“As it would be,” Chay said softly. “Which you knew when you walked in here.”
“As it may yet be,” she whispered. “I know.”
Chay watched her a moment in silence, and then nodded once, sharply. “So. Tell me his name.”
Nolan’s limbs had all turned to yarn and rubber. He felt himself bobbing like a puppet as both of them turned to look at him. “Nolan Adelpho,” Kit said. “A respected member of his race’s nobility.”
Now Nolan looked into those fierce gray eyes, and it was like stepping off a cliff. He felt very much as if Kit had actually shoved him off a precipice on Gold Mountain. “Nolan Adelpho,” Chay repeated. “I understand this is your first visit to Geldricht.”
Small talk, idle conversation. Even now they must spar and establish rituals. “Yes, Chay Zanlan, it is,” Nolan replied.
“And what do you think of it?”
“What I have seen from the train windows is fascinating and complex,” he replied. “I had many questions to ask of Kitrini Candachi. She was an excellent source of information.”
Chay nodded regally. “It is a good sign when a man is interested in learning,” he said.
“I think I have a great deal more to learn, even so,” Nolan said. “I found your land rich with color and ritual and beauty, just from my window. I am sure it would be all that and more if I had time to study it.”
Chay permitted himself a smile. “A gracious comment,” the guldman said. “Your land, I know, has its own riches and beauties.”
“Yes, and I love it with most of my heart,” Nolan said. “But I see now that a man must reserve a portion of his heart with which to appreciate things outside his immediate experience.”
“I confess,” Chay said, “my heart was not much won over by your metropolis. Perhaps I did not stay there long enough.”
“The city is not the true measure of Inrhio’s beauty,” Nolan said, wondering when all this pointless talk would end. “It is the countryside, so unbelievably green and fertile, which holds the affection of most indigo.”
“Well, then, perhaps one day I will be fortunate enough to travel there. But since I have returned from the city, I have found myself weary and disinclined to travel again anywhere, at least anytime soon.”
Nolan infused a faint note of concern into his voice. “I hope your health has not been troubling you?”
“A slight cough merely. I so rarely suffer any illness that even the smallest one takes me completely by surprise.”
“A cough?” Nolan said casually. “Did you fall ill while you were in the city? A place so crowded with people breeds disease, you know.”
“Perhaps I contracted something while I was away from home,” Chay conceded. “It is not a matter I am concerned with. What I would rather talk about is your reason for traveling all this distance to see me.”
“In fact,” Nolan began, but Chay held up one large hand to suspend him.
“But is this an issue that can be discussed freely before a woman? You are the one who traveled here in secrecy. Do you desire Kitrini to overhear your words?”
“She may hear them,” Nolan said bleakly. “I did not tell her because I thought this was news you should hear before any other.”
“Then she may remain,” Chay said. “Speak. Tell me.”
Nolan took a deep breath. He had rehearsed it a hundred times, a thousand times, and it always sounded horrific. “In fact, my reason for seeking you out directly concerns your health,” he said. “I believe that on your visit to the city you were, at the behest of Ariana Bayless, deliberately exposed to a dangerous virus that is fatal to gulden unless treated. Not only is it fatal, it is highly contagious, and you and everyone who has come in contact with you since you returned from the city could be dead before the year is out.”