After the massage, Yeshi and her new handmaiden retired to Yeshi’s quarters.
“Here is the room you will share with Ranna, Tiah, and the other women who serve me,” Yeshi pointed out as they passed a large, airy room with a small table, a basin and pitcher of water, and dozens of soft-looking cushions scattered on the floor. Kevla tried not to reveal her shock at the opulence.
“And this is the room I share with my lord,” Yeshi said, as she opened the door onto a room three times as large as the handmaidens’. There were two or three lounging chairs, cushions on the floor, and glorious tapestries adorning the thick walls. Candles, lamps, and a small brazier sat ready to be lit at nightfall. The bed that Yeshi and Tahmu shared seemed to Kevla to be large enough to accommodate three or four quite easily. It was circular in shape, elevated off the floor by short, sturdy stone pillars.
“I am in need of refreshment,” Yeshi said. “Go to the kitchens and ask Sahlik to prepare a plate. Make sure there is something you enjoy on it, too, Kevla.”
Kevla floated down to the kitchens and repeated Yeshi’s request to Sahlik. The head servant nodded, pleased.
“Don’t forget to let her eat first,” she said as she arranged the tray. “And don’t pay any attention when she tells you to have some paraah, it’s her favorite fruit and she’ll want to eat it all herself.”
Kevla nodded obediently. It was perhaps natural that Sahlik should worry, but there was no need. Kevla understood exactly how to handle someone like Yeshi.
After Kevla had lit the lamps, candles and brazier, she and the khashima lounged on embroidered pillows, nibbled the delicacies, and sipped a beverage that was both sweet and tangy and which made Kevla feel a bit light-headed. Yeshi was chatting and Kevla was listening as attentively as possible, giving the potency of the drink, when there came a knock on the door. Yeshi sighed.
“And we were having such a good time, just the two of us,” she said. In a harder voice, she called, “Who knocks?”
“Please, my lady, it is only us,” came a timid reply.
“Enter.” The door opened and two young women stood in the hall. The older one, whom Kevla suspected was in her late twenties, was tall and voluptuous, her dark blue rhia straining across her full breasts. She started when she saw Kevla and her eyes widened, then whatever emotion was in them was quickly hooded.
The younger was only a few years older than Kevla and shorter and slimmer than her companion. The most noticeable thing about her was her hand, which was swathed in bandages. Kevla felt a pang of sympathy and wondered what had happened.
“You are late,” said Yeshi.
Their eyes widened in apprehension. They exchanged glances. “Didn’t Sahlik tell you?” asked the larger woman.
“About Ranna’s hand? Yes, but there was no reason you needed to stay with her so long, Tiah.” Yeshi’s gaze returned to Kevla, and she smiled affectionately. She was quite lovely when she smiled, thought Kevla.
“It was lucky that Kevla is as skilled as you are, Ranna, otherwise my back would have been protesting your absence. It looks as though it will be some time before you will be able to rub my feet.”
Ranna’s dark face flushed. “Yes, my lady.”
Tiah glanced at Ranna and said, “Maluuk said that it was lucky she did not die.”
“Mmm,” said Yeshi. “Well, Ranna, you have one good hand. Go down to the kitchen and get me another skin of wine.”
Kevla knew she was a good observer, but even the greatest dullard would have had no trouble interpreting the looks both handmaidens shot her. She swallowed hard, and despite the strange sensation the wine was causing in her, wished she dared have another cup.
“Ranna,” said Yeshi, “I did not mean tomorrow.”
Ranna jumped slightly. “Of course not. Forgive me.” She reached with her good hand to take the wineskin and darted out the door. Tiah moved to settle behind Yeshi on the cushions and reached to touch her hair when Yeshi ducked her head.
“No. Kevla will brush my hair. Tiah, you will bathe and massage my feet.”
Kevla rose and did as she was commanded. Tiah, safely out of Yeshi’s line of vision, mouthed the word skuura, female dog, and glared as she rose. A knot in her stomach, Kevla knelt behind Yeshi and began unbraiding the thick locks with nimble, gentle fingers.
Yeshi chatted on about nothing. Ranna returned with the wine. All three servants chimed in with appropriate noises from time to time. Tiah bathed Yeshi’s feet in a ceramic bowl of water scented with flower petals, lavishing attention on them. She dried them carefully and massaged oil into them, her gaze darting up now and then to gauge her mistress’s reaction.
Kevla dutifully brushed and oiled Yeshi’s hair, and while pleased to hear such compliments as “Your touch is so gentle, child!” and “That feels good, Kevla,” wished silently that Yeshi would spare a kind word or two for Tiah’s ministrations as well.
At last it was time to ready the bed. She thought, as she gingerly touched it, that the mattress made the pillows she had sat upon feel hard as old rugs. Over it were intricately woven and embroidered blankets and silks. The sheets felt like water in her hands.
“Kevla!” The sharp voice of Tiah startled her and she jumped. “Don’t touch the khashima’s things like that!”
Kevla gulped. She had been certain that she would know how to handle Yeshi, but already, on the first day, she was going to incur the woman’s famous wrath….
To her ineffable relief, Yeshi only laughed. “Poor child, you’ve probably never seen anything as lovely, have you?”
Not daring to speak, Kevla shook her head, keeping her eyes averted. Yeshi’s long, cool fingers brushed her chin, tilting Kevla’s face up.
“My lord is going to be away for a while, visiting another clan. The bed is large enough for about fifty such as you. Stay with me tonight; keep me company while I miss my husband. It will be pleasant to have someone to whisper secrets to.”
Kevla dared not look at Tiah as the other young women bowed and left. Yeshi, now clad in a diaphanous garment that covered her from neck to toe, crawled into the bed and yawned. Kevla went about the room, extinguishing the oil lamps and candles, then, her heart racing, climbed into the bed. The only light came from the red glow of the brazier’s coals.
She almost uttered a cry as she slipped beneath the sheets. So soft, so smooth….surely Tahmu and Yeshi slept deeply and dreamed sweet dreams.
“I imagine you are Bai-sha,” said Yeshi, breaking into her reverie. Kevla went cold. “That is unimportant to me. You are a sweet girl and you handle yourself well. Did you know I have a son?”
“Of course,” Kevla replied. “He is the young master, the khashimu Jashemi-kha-Tahmu.”
“That’s right,” Yeshi said. “He’s been away for almost a year now, learning from his uncle. That’s one of our traditions, Kevla; to send the heir to live with his closest male relative. He’ll leave me again for another year when he’s married. I miss him. I adore my son, but I often think how sweet it would have been had I borne a daughter.”
Tentatively, Kevla said, “My lady is still young and beautiful. Perhaps the Dragon will grant her a daughter soon.”
Yeshi chuckled, but there was an undercurrent of sadness in her voice. “You are still a child, and there are things you don’t yet understand.”
In the darkness, Kevla grinned. There wasn’t much about male and female coupling she didn’t understand, but she wasn’t about to tell Yeshi that.
“My son is a little younger than you,” Yeshi went on. Kevla wondered why the khashima was speaking so freely. Perhaps it was the shield of darkness. Perhaps it was that Kevla was such a nobody. Yeshi turned over, and the silk sheets rustled. “I am glad Tahmu brought you to me. Tomorrow will be very hot. Would you like to spend all day in the caverns?”
“It if please my lady, I would enjoy that very much.”
“It will be so, then. Good night, Kevla.”
“Good night, my lady. Dragon send you sweet dreams.”
But Kevla did not dream at all that night. She was asleep within minutes. In the morning, she awoke before dawn and slid out as silently as possible.
She closed the door carefully, turned, and gasped. Tiah and Ranna stood in the hall. Even the slim, injured Ranna scowled, and Tiah loomed over Kevla like a kuli. Before Kevla could react, Tiah spat in her face.
“Bai-sha,” Tiah snarled in a hoarse whisper. “You’d better watch yourself.”
“I can’t believe you took advantage of my injury,” said Ranna, sounding more hurt than angry.
Kevla wiped the spittle from her face. “I—” she began, keeping her voice soft. But they didn’t let her finish.
“You are just one of many. You may be Yeshi’s favorite today, but that doesn’t mean you’ll stay that way,” said Tiah.
“Tiah, Ranna,” Kevla whispered imploringly, holding out a hand to each one of them, “Yeshi is a great lady and has many needs. Surely, she requires all of us to tend her.”
“Yeshi is a spoiled skuura,” said Ranna in a low voice, “and we were doing fine until you came along.”
Kevla’s eyes filled with tears. “I only—” Footsteps coming down the hall gave her an excellent excuse to duck past the two women and scurry to the kitchen.
It was an inauspicious start to a day which only got worse. Yeshi, as Kevla would soon learn, often changed her mind. By the time she had risen and been bathed and dressed, the great lady had decided not to spend the day in the caverns after all. She was going to visit the market, and Kevla was to prepare a traveling basket of food and wine and accompany her. Kevla nodded and kept her face impassive. But she could not hide her feelings from Sahlik.
As Sahlik helped Kevla prepare a basket, she said in a low voice, “It will not be as hard as you think, child. You will be wearing the veil, so no one will recognize you. Don’t look anyone full in the face and all should be well.”
“I don’t want to go back,” Kevla whispered. “I don’t know why Yeshi wants me to.”
“She wants you to see what change can be wrought in a day’s fortune,” Sahlik said. “Be quiet and grateful and in all likelihood, she will never take you back to the market again. It’s not her favorite pastime.” Sahlik hesitated, then said, “Do not speak to your mother if you see her.”
Kevla shook her head. The lump in her throat forbade speech. Miserable and apprehensive, she covered the basket and went to join the other handmaidens.
She and Tiah dressed in clean rhias. Ranna would not be accompanying them; riding would take two hands and hers was far from healed. Kevla watched closely as Tiah put on her veil and did a fair job of imitating her, drawing the thin yellow fabric over her head, around the lower part of her face and tucking it in. By the contemptuous flash of Tiah’s eyes, Kevla had not quite gotten it right. She hoped Yeshi would not notice.
But she could not hide her inexperience with riding when she and Tiah went into the courtyard and two sand-colored mares were brought out for them. With the help of a stable boy, Tiah climbed easily into the saddle. Kevla stared at her own mare.
“What’s the matter?” Tiah challenged. “Yeshi is already in her litter waiting for us.”
“I cannot ride,” Kevla said, trying hard not to cry.
“Well then, too bad for you,” said Tiah. “Yeshi and I will go alone to the market.” She pulled her horse’s head around and rode out of the courtyard to where Yeshi was waiting.
Kevla lowered her head and trudged back to the House. She was not sorry to avoid going to the market, but feared that her inexperience might count against her. Tiah and Ranna had made it plain this morning that they regarded her as competition for Yeshi’s affections. Now, Tiah would have Yeshi’s ear all day. It would be an excellent opportunity to turn her mistress’s mind against her new handmaiden. Kevla did not think the khashima would make a great attempt to find the truth if malicious gossip started spreading. She had reached the top of the stairs when she heard a male voice calling her by name. Surprised, Kevla turned to see a stable boy running across the courtyard to her.
“The khashima has sent me for you,” he said, gasping for breath. “She says if you cannot ride a horse, you will be taught, and until you learn, you may ride in the litter with her.”
Yeshi’s litter was, not surprisingly, a glorious thing. It was a padded armchair that could seat two people comfortably, carried by twelve powerfully built servants. There was room to stretch one’s legs, and a canopy shaded the two women from the hot sun. Despite the physical comfort, Kevla knew that if Tiah knew how miserable she was, the older girl would be delighted. She would much rather be on a horse, equal to the other handmaiden, than feel the hot jealousy emanating from Tiah.
Her stomach tightened as the outskirts of the marketplace came into view. Nervously, she adjusted the veil, grateful for the anonymity it provided. She hoped Sahlik was right, that no one would recognize her. Particularly, she hoped she would not see her mother.
The khashima’s appearance in the market created quite a stir. Those on foot hastened to get out of the way and bow to the great lady. Kevla noticed they did not prostrate themselves, as they did for the khashim, nor did they avert their eyes from her face after they had shown their respect. Indeed, some of the bolder merchants went so far as to directly approach the litter, so that the great lady could better see their merchandise.
Yeshi was having a grand time. She thrived on the attention, and ordered her servant to purchase all manner of jewelry and trinkets. She generously bought drinks, honeycakes, and meat pies for Kevla and Tiah, and Kevla realized that the delicacies she had so carefully packed would be forgotten and spoil in the hot sun.
Tiah ate her cake quickly, clearly enjoying the sticky sweetness of it. Kevla found it too cloying, but knew that Yeshi wanted her to eat it. She was just about to take another bite when someone cleared his throat.
“Most honored khashima,” said a smooth voice. “What a pleasant surprise to encounter you here.”
The speaker was a high-caste man who stood beside the litter. His clothing was almost as fine as Tahmu’s and his oiled, well-trimmed beard parted to reveal white teeth. Kevla took an instant dislike to him. She thought that Tahmu would not have approved of the way this man’s eyes roamed over Yeshi’s face and dropped briefly to her body.
Yeshi, however, seemed pleased to see the stranger. Leaning over, she purred, “Uhlal Bahrim. You have been absent from our feasts lately.”
“Not by my own will, great lady. My lands need supervision if they are to yield crops satisfactory to the khashim.”
Her smile grew and she asked, “So it is your love for my lord that keeps you from our hall?”
He leaned in closer to the litter and said, “Nothing else would keep me from the radiance of your company.”
Disgusted with the exchange but careful not to show it, Kevla returned to her honeycake. Suddenly, a cry rang out.
“It is you!”
Every head turned in the direction of the shout. A poorly dressed, low-caste man was pushing his way toward the khashima. It was obviously a beggar, but Kevla had never seen any of the beggars who frequented the marketplace be so assertive.
Yeshi’s men set the litter down as quickly and smoothly as possible. Drawing curved swords, four of them stepped protectively in front of their mistress. Others moved toward the increasingly hysterical man. Yeshi’s face was impassive, but Kevla saw her painted fingers tighten on the chair arm. Bahrim took the opportunity to lay his hand on hers.
“It is you!” the man cried again, pointing directly at—
“Me?” Kevla whispered, her hand going to her throat. He must have recognized her from the market. But how? The veil hid everything but her kohl-rimmed eyes. Bahrim gaped at her.
“I’ve been trying to find you!” the man continued. Flecks of spittle flew from his lips and his eyes were enormous. “She and I,” he said, turning to look at Tiah, “we’ve been waiting for you!”
Kevla looked over at Tiah, but the other woman stared back at the man. She seemed turned to stone in place atop her mare.
“You will not address my women so,” said Yeshi coldly.
“They are not your women, great lady, they are ours—they belong to all of Arukan! I have dreamed of you. Had visions of you riding the Great Dragon—”
Visions? The Dragon? Kevla felt horror seep through her. The man was not simply an aggressive beggar. He had visions. He was blaspheming the Great Dragon. That could only mean one thing.
“Kuli-cursed!” screamed a voice from the crowd. The word seemed to jolt everyone into action. Yeshi’s men sprang upon the man. He went down under a pile of muscular, sun-browned bodies, and when they got to their feet the man’s face was bruised and bloody.
“Great lady, what would you have us do with him?” one of Yeshi’s men asked, slightly out of breath.
Yeshi’s eyes were wide and her breathing was quick, but other than that she seemed perfectly in control. “The kulis have seduced him. There is only one punishment for the kuli-cursed.”
Kevla began to tremble and clenched her hands hard in her lap. Everyone in Arukan, including her, knew the punishment for being unfortunate enough to be cursed by demons.
The man cried out. “Great lady, I implore you, I am not kuli-cursed! My visions are true, they are sent from—”
Yeshi’s men again turned on him and this time when they stopped, the man had been beaten unconscious. Kevla kept swallowing, grateful that she had only eaten a few bites of the honeycake, struggling to keep even those few bites from coming back up. Yesterday, she had watched a man being devoured by a river creature. Today, she would see another man burn to death.
Nothing in Arukan was more feared than the kulis, unless one considered the Great Dragon himself. But the Dragon was honored and revered, and his laws protected his people and kept them on the right path. The demons who lurked in the caves at the foot of the mountains and who haunted one’s dreams had no hint of goodness about them. To attract the attention of one, to become then cursed, was a fate that made being burned alive seem like a blessing.
“It will be done, my lady,” continued Yeshi’s man. “Do you wish it now, or shall we wait for the morrow?”
There was only one reason for waiting. When a kuli-cursed was burned, it was important for as many people as possible to witness it, so that they would be reminded of how dreadful it was, and would be on their guard. Yeshi looked around at the sea of people in the marketplace.
“There are many here to witness,” she said. “Do it now.”
Bahrim lingered with Yeshi, offering his consolation for the traumatic encounter.
Precious as wood was in a land where trees grew only by the few nurturing waters, everyone at the marketplace was anxious that the cursed man be destroyed as quickly as possible, lest they, too, become victims of the kulis. The vendors offered their stools and chairs, which were broken into pieces. Dried grasses, used to feed the animals, were offered for quick kindling. Yeshi smoothed the sacrifice by tossing coins for the proffered wood. Before Kevla quite realized what was going on, a pyre had been built outside the market area and the unconscious beggar, bound hand and foot, doused with lamp oil and with a rag stuffed into his mouth, was hurled atop it.
“Death to demons!” someone shouted, and the chant was taken up: “Death to demons! Death to demons!”
Someone grabbed a torch and lit the pyre. Kevla looked away, but Yeshi’s hand closed on her wrist. Kevla gazed into the hard eyes of her mistress.
“He wanted to drag you and Tiah into his madness,” Yeshi said. “He could have tainted both of you, accused you, too, of being demons. Then you and Tiah would be on that pyre with him. It is well that he is punished quickly. Watch, Kevla. Watch and remember this day.”
Kevla couldn’t imagine that she would ever forget it. Reluctantly, she raised her head and watched as the fire consumed the body. Thick, acrid smoke, laced with the stench of burning flesh, scalded her throat and made her eyes water. She heard the shouts and cheers of the crowd as their fear was assuaged, and she was grateful that the guards had beaten the poor, deluded soul senseless before they burned him.
Please, Great Dragon, she prayed silently, please don’t let this happen to anyone in the House of Four Waters.