15

I feel dead in my shroud as I walk out of the house. In ancient days in the empire of Saro, a dead emperor was accompanied to his tomb by living servants who were buried with him.

As I step out onto the street my vision blurs and a wave of dizziness causes me to trip over my own feet. I steady myself with the breathing I was taught at Anise’s stable to prolong my stamina. Because I do not know where else to stand, I halt behind the back wheels of Lord Gargaron’s carriage in the same place Coriander would walk behind ours.

Servants hauling carts and leading donkeys trudge along the sun side of the street on errands for other households while the carriage waits on the shade side. A lord has the right to the shade, and now I have stolen a tiny bit of it for myself, as the old saying goes: “The lord’s shade also shelters the lord’s servant.”

Creditors have gathered beside the gate, clutching silver-banded ledgers. They crowd forward when Lord Gargaron emerges with Father beside him.

“Have the shrouds taken down,” he says to Father. “Now that you belong to Garon Palace you are no longer in mourning.”

One of his stewards dismisses the creditors as Lord Gargaron mounts into the open carriage. It needs no concealing curtains like the ones Patron women hide behind when they go out.

Harness bells ring to announce his departure. The carriage rolls forward. My feet scrape on the ground as I follow. At the gate Father stands at attention. Of my mother and sisters I naturally see no sign.

Father glances toward me as I pass. Is that a tear glinting on his face? Hope batters at my chest. He will shout that it was all a mistake. He will run after me and bring me home.

But he lets me go without a word of farewell.

We leave the house behind. It’s like I’m trudging to my tomb.

The worst thing of all is that I understand why he did it. When you run the Fives you make choices in order to win. He will soon have achieved the highest honor a man of his birth could ever dream of. And he has thrown us away to get it.

Our procession heads uphill. We live on the rumpled skirts of the Queen’s Hill, too high to be Common and too low to have any pretension toward highborn status. After we cross the saddle between the two hills, we climb higher on the King’s Hill than I have ever been in my life. Modest compounds like ours give way to lush gardens and spacious courtyards. How beautiful the sea looks from up here and how lovely the harbor with its masts and colorfully painted ships. Out on the water, sails flash like wings atop the waves. Their easy grace makes me think of my mother and sisters. Tears seep down my cheeks.

Where will they go? What will they do?

The brass-striped gates of Garon Palace loom in front of me as the carriage halts. My lips are dusty and my eyes sting. Lord Gargaron steps down and to my horror he walks right up to me. The scent of cardamom and myrrh wafts off him, the perfume of rich men who wear fragrant oils to cover the smell of sweat and dust. I hold my ground like a soldier.

“Let me be clear, Jessamy. Do not for an instant believe you are here as a hostage for your father’s good behavior. A man like him cannot help but reach for the victory tower. He fights to win regardless of your fate. You are worth nothing to me except as an adversary. I have taken on considerable debts in order to bring your father into my household. If you do not pass muster at the stable, I will have you sold into servitude to make up some of what I have paid out. A tall, strong girl like you would be welcome in the gold mines. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, my lord.” My voice is little more than a scrape.

He beckons over a stout woman dressed in the leggings and tunic worn by adversaries. She cannot possibly run competitively because she is missing one hand. The stump is shiny. She is the only Commoner I have seen among the Garon Palace servants. “Tana, if she does not pass muster, return her to my stewards and they will dispose of her.”

“Yes, my lord.”

He climbs back into the carriage. The grand front gate opens and the carriage, servants, and guards proceed in to the palace. Beyond the open gate I see pavilions, gardens, and courtyards stairstepped up the hillside, as beautiful as a painting.

“Girl! Stop daydreaming and come with me!”

The woman leads me down the lane to a smaller gate, also painted with the horned and winged fire dog mascot of Garon Palace. The gate stands open, flanked by a pair of guards who give me a bored look like they’ve seen a hundred fledglings walk in hopeful and walk out rejected.

Inside, a Fives court takes up most of a huge central courtyard. An elderly Patron man is running youths and men through the traditional form known as “menageries,” a formal pattern dance meant to imbue adversaries with the mental discipline necessary to succeed on the court. Four women are warming up on a set of posts set to different heights, a standard beginner’s configuration of Trees. To my surprise, one is a young Patron woman with her hair clubbed up in the style of the old country. I have never seen a Patron woman running the Fives.

Tana leads me past a kitchen with an open dining shelter where the midday meal is cooking. My mouth waters. She ushers me into the dim confines of a bathhouse built into the wall that separates the stable from the palace. The front space has benches for changing.

She gestures at my shroud. “I didn’t know people still wore those. While you wash I’ll get you clothes for today. If you pass muster, you’ll be measured for an off-duty tunic and sandals, two sets of Fives gear, and palace livery for formal occasions. You aren’t in your bleeding, are you?”

“No.”

“They’ll explain about that, if you stay,” she says as I tug off the shroud. “Don’t go in the hot room or pool; just use the washroom. Take a towel from the shelf.” She gives my naked body a stare from top to toe. “You look strong. Where did Lord Gargaron get you?”

“He picked me out of some rubbish that was thrown away.”

Mother always says that bitterness is poison but I am swimming in it.

She gives me a long look, measuring the secrets behind my eyes, then shrugs and leaves. The entry curtain slaps down behind her.

The floor of the changing room has not a speck of dirt except from my grimy feet. I venture into the washroom, which is magnificently set up with a trough in which to stand, sieved basins hung from the ceiling, and pitchers, cups, and sponges lined up on shelves. Pipes bring water, with levers to start and stop the flow. Because there is no one around I creep into the hot room just to see what it looks like. Steam hisses over stones. In the room beyond lies a tiled rectangular pool. Voices echo through the chamber, people on the other side of the wall using a palace bathhouse that shares the same plumbing system. I scramble back to the washroom.

As I begin to wash myself I think about Gargaron’s threat to sell me to the mines. Father once told us that prisoners and indentured servants sent to the mines are forced to work the most grueling and dangerous jobs.

But I don’t want to think about Father or anything he ever told me, so as I scrub myself down I pretend I am scouring all traces of him out of my flesh and my heart. After I’ve washed I rinse down my hair and blot out as much water as I can. The towel is a square of linen the length of my arm. It isn’t big enough to wrap around me so I sit and drape it across my lap.

Then I wait.

My thoughts scurry home. Has Lord Gargaron evicted Mother and my sisters? With their clothes burned, what will they wear? Can I run away and find them?

So abruptly I am not prepared for it, the curtain sweeps aside and three men enter. Two are Commoners and one is a Patron. Their skin is sheeny with sweat and gritty with sand and scrapes. They don’t see me in the corner as they begin stripping out of their Fives gear. The Patron is talking all the while.

“And then he said, ‘I’ll wager ten bars that the brown girl beats him,’ and Nar said, ‘Ten bars? I wouldn’t take that bet if it was for a sip of beer because it’s obvious she’s going to beat him.…’”

I cough.

Startled, they peer into the shadowed corner where I huddle.

The Patron waves as at a fly. “Girl! You can’t be in here. It’s men’s bath time now. Get out.”

“I have no clothes.”

As the words slide out of my mouth, I realize nothing but this scrap of cloth conceals my genitals. I grab a second towel and hold it over my breasts.

“Good Goat,” says the elder Commoner, a man with a shaved head who appears a bit older than my father. “You must be a fledgling.”

The Patron has an oddly familiar face but I don’t know him. He laughs. “How like Tana to forget about her. Is the old mare sucking shadow-smoke again?”

They yank their clothes back on and tromp out.

Sooner than I expect Tana reappears, muttering about goat-footed smoke-heads and their disrespect. She tosses a bundle of clothes at me, underthings, leggings, a Fives tunic, and a belt; she has a good eye for size. Last, she offers me several pairs of five-toed leather slippers, and I find the best fit.

“We eat at midday at the bell. I’ll show you where to get water.”

Beside the kitchen a pipe empties in a trickle into a brass basin surrounded by a decorative brass tree from which brass cups dangle.

I reach for a cup but she slaps my hand away. “You’ll get your own cup if you pass muster.”

She deserts me again. Each cup is etched with a different mark: a flower, a spiral, a hand. I’m so thirsty. I glance around to make sure no one is in sight, then cup my hands and drink in gulps until my thirst eases.

Looking around I spot a spectators’ terrace, a raised set of stepped benches under an awning. Tana climbs to the highest benches and joins the three men now sitting there. They are the ones who interrupted me in the baths. I sit below them at the edge of the shade so it doesn’t seem like I’m encroaching. Yet they pay no attention to me. Evidently I will remain invisible unless I pass muster. It’s better that way.

Everything seems distant and unreal, like my shadow has come half unmoored from my body. I can’t even recall when I was last happy until I remember how I felt while I was waiting to climb the ladder for my one chance at running a trial. The memory of the crowd singing drifts through my head as I look over the practice court. I’m so dazed that patterns seem to unfold across the course to the rhythm of the well-known song.

Canvas walls block out a maze in Pillars, throwing shadows along the ground as if they are pinned there waiting to leap out and swallow unsuspecting adversaries, as it says in the song: Shadows fall where pillars stand.

Traps is a series of balance and maneuvering exercises, beams and ropes and a bridge with basic traps, but when I blink, motes of light spin in my vision, sparks like grains of sand swirling along the dark lines of rope and beam the way blood rushes in veins through the body. Posts of various heights and with a mix of handholds and angles crowd Trees; standing at the pinnacle is like displaying your reputation of honor and glory to all people, your name so bright that everyone knows you.

I rub my eyes, trying to focus, and when I open them the world looks ordinary again.

Rivers is a shallow pool measuring twenty by twenty strides; painted wooden roundels just big enough to stand on are being drawn back and forth by ropes as a pair of lads no older than me try to jump from one to the next without getting their feet wet. The boys are fledglings. Once I might have scoffed at their clumsiness, but Anise taught us that scoffing at people who aren’t as skilled or as established is a sign of weakness. As the shorter boy splashes into ankle-deep water, the spectators laugh. I cautiously look more closely at Tana and the men.

By the evidence of his clubbed hair the Patron man comes from the old country, yet his lack of beard means he now considers Efea his home. “Where did those two boys come from? Why are they even here?” Like my father he has the choppy accent of a man who learned to speak Saroese in the old country. The Saroese spoken here sounds different, influenced by the lilt of Efean speech. “They are just as bad as Kalliarkos when he started.”

“Hard to believe anyone could be that bad,” says Tana with a relaxed chuckle. “They are here as a favor for one of Princess Berenise’s merchant partners. But I believe it is Lord Kalliarkos who convinced his grandmother to insist the boys be given a chance to train.”

“Does that mean we’re saddled with them for a year or more? No offense to you, Tana, but for all this new push to build Garon Stable so it can truly compete with the other palace stables, this place will never amount to anything until the princess stops doing favors for her grandson.”

“Kalliarkos has improved a great deal.”

“Yes, he has, but if the quality of adversaries here does not improve a great deal more than he has, my honor will demand I leave.”

“Garon Stable will fall apart without you, Lord Thynos,” she says in alarm.

“That I had to sit through that embarrassing performance by Kalliarkos at the City Fives Court four days ago was bad enough. I have never seen Gar as angry as when that brown girl slipped on purpose to let Kalliarkos win!” But he laughs as if Lord Gargaron’s anger amuses him.

“I would not like to be her if he ever finds out who she is.” Tana does not laugh. “When he gets to cursing like that, you know he wants revenge.”

“Do you think Kal paid off that adversary so he could get another win?” asks Thynos.

Tana scowls. “He is no cheater. You know that as well as I do.”

“I suppose not. It would never occur to him to cheat.”

I finally realize where I’ve seen Thynos: he is an Illustrious who runs under the Fives name of Southwind. I’ve seen him run at trials. Players who have reached the highest level get their faces painted on murals throughout the city.

The conversation veers to how Garon Stable may fare at the victory games to be held at the Royal Fives Court in six days: my father’s victory games. Thinking of how Mother wept with joy at seeing him honored makes me want to tear out my heart just so I won’t hurt so much. Grief sinks into me with the heat.

The sun reaches its zenith. A whistle marks the end of practice, followed by the ringing of a bell in the kitchen shelter. Everyone ambles over to the dining area. Heat and hunger make me woozy as I clatter down the steps. No one pays me any mind as I take the last place in line. No one speaks to me. It’s like I don’t exist, like I’m already handed over to the stewards and asphyxiating in the mines.

As they get their food the adversaries scatter along the tables in groups. A kitchen girl yawns as she hands me a lacquered meal box. I decide it is most prudent to find a seat alone and just fill my stomach. There is warm bread and salted vegetables and a huge portion of savory chicken stew heaped over rice. I murmur the polite offering under my breath: “With both humility and gratitude my body accepts this gift of food, holy ones. Creatures who were once living gave of their spark and substance to nourish mine. I honor them.”

The words rise with a sour taste. Father would speak them while we awaited his permission to eat. I don’t want to think about him. My hunger twists into despair. But I have to eat to keep up my strength. If I get sent to the mines I can’t help my mother and sisters. And the chicken stew does look good.

“Jessamy?”

The spoon halfway to my lips with my first bite, I freeze. Kalliarkos stands with a meal box in his hand, wearing a tunic and leggings just like any other adversary. The way he said my name draws the attention of every person in the shelter. They stare as he sits opposite me.

I set down my spoon because my hand is trembling. Unexpectedly, anger cascades out of me in a harsh whisper. “You said you wouldn’t tell anyone that I run the Fives. But you told your uncle!”

“I did not speak of you to him at all!” He looks taken aback.

“How else could he have found out? He humiliated my mother in front of my father just for the pleasure of seeing her cry.”

Abruptly he gets up and walks away. At first I think I have offended him but he returns with two mugs of barley beer, the usual midday drink in Efea, a thick brown brew as rich and nutritious as bread. He sits and offers one to me as he speaks in a low voice.

“Perhaps seeing my uncle in action helps you better understand why I do not wish to follow his orders, since they so often lead to unpleasant things.”

A fist in my chest unclenches. “You didn’t betray me.”

“No, I didn’t. If my uncle was interested in your father, he would have investigated everything about him thoroughly.” He sips contemplatively, then sets down the mug. “What I don’t understand is why you are here. Your household is in mourning for Lord Ottonor.”

Everyone is still looking at us. I liked it better when they ignored me.

I shift closer, whispering even more softly, “Lord Gargaron took my father into his household and made him a general.”

Kalliarkos whistles. “That can’t be possible.”

A spike of irritation burns through my flesh. It’s as if he’s two people: a young man who really understands me, and an oblivious fool. “Of course it’s possible. Your uncle wants the hero of Maldine to command the Eastern Reach. What’s so strange about that?”

He looks at the sky as at the gods and their inexplicable actions. “I had no idea. I thought it was a lord from the old country, someone with military experience overseas.…”

“What are you talking about?” My hand tightens around the mug. I need something to hold on to when I get the bad news I am sure is about to come.

He runs a hand through his short black hair.

“My older sister left this morning for our villa at Falcon Hill. She’s to marry a military man newly come to the service of Garon Palace.”