Obsidian (11 page)

So there it was. He looked around at the others, admiring their resolution. Yet without Kynell’s armies, their case was hopeless. Vancien had told him that he had tried to summon the faithful every day since they had first received the news, but with no success. On the other hand, Corfe had thousands of men at his disposal. Men, Telenar considered grimly, who would soon be slaughtered if Corfe persisted in his delusion. How desperately Corfe needed to be convinced of his mistake, but mere words would never persuade Corfe he wasn’t the Advocate. Still, if he could be reminded of Tryun’s failure, maybe he could set up defenses around Lascombe to fend off Zyreio’s forces, at least long enough to realize his mistake. Perhaps by then, Kynell would have answered Vancien’s prayers.

Yet even if they joined Corfe at Lascombe, he would never trust Amarian. For the moment, Amarian only complicated things. If he could lie low for a time, then perhaps he, Telenar, could attempt to dissuade Corfe of his delusion while Chiyo oversaw the city’s defenses. As for Vancien, it wouldn’t hurt to have him lie low, as well.

A splash interrupted his reflections. One of the younger voyoté had grown anxious in the confined space of the boat and had jumped into the water. Now its handlers were having a great deal of trouble getting him back into the boat. No harm was done, though there was a great deal of angry shouting. He sighed. Cetla, Lansing, and Nagab—their own faithful voyoté who had carried them so far last cycle—had long ago been sent back to Lascombe. The royal head groom had been nervous about letting them go in the first place; the least Telenar could do was to return them, unharmed, when he had thought their journey was at an end. Truth be told, he missed their strength and agility. The Cylini kept a healthy stable on the border of their territory, but the plains voyoté tended to be scrawnier and less reliable than their royal counterparts. If he had to go into battle against Zyreio, he would at least prefer to have Lansing under him.

His anxious thoughts then returned to Vancien and Amarian. It seemed more necessary than ever to have them out of the way, if only for a time. He looked nervously at N’vonne, wondering what she would think of his strategy and promising himself that he would tell her and the others before they reached the road to Lascombe. Until then there was no point in disturbing them.

__________

Ester and Trint had the easiest time adapting to Sirin’s strange habits. So grateful were they to have three square meals a day, with snacks in-between, that they submitted to the routine of the house with no complaint. Teehma and Lucio struggled the worst. Living with a munkke-trophe did not suit their independent natures. While Ester, with her gentle spirit, quietly learned to mix his joint poultice and Trint fetched his brocade slippers whenever Sirin asked, the other two spent their time recalling the “freedom” they had enjoyed under Gorvy. The city and life in general, it seemed, was passing them by as they batted carpets, cooked their own meals, and polished those beautiful front doors.

More than two weeks had passed when Lucio, as usual, was thrashing one of Sirin’s rugs, the one with the macaw bird and the gigantic purple snail.

“By the Chasm, that old monkey sheds more than three voyoté combined!”

Teehma, who was holding the great rug for him, looked nervously at the door. The “dupes,” as they called the two other servants, were away with Sirin on an errand, but she still feared their ingratitude would be reported. “He’s a munkke-trophe, Lucio, not a monkey. And aren’t you happy to have a hot meal and a soft bed?”

“You mean a lumpy bed and the same meal every other day? We work like slaves.” He gave the rug another thwack and watched the dust particles fly off the snail and into the cold air. “We
are
slaves.”

They switched positions. Now it was Teehma’s turn to beat the snail. “No, we’re not. Sirin didn’t buy us. He’s looking for a home for us.”

Lucio snorted. “If this is what a home is like, I think I’d rather be on my own.”

Teehma agreed. She had been only seven cycles when her parents, weak from hard living, had both succumbed to illness a few months apart. All she remembered of the life up to that time was her mother’s exhaustion and her father’s dangerous flashes of anger. Sirin’s house was a great improvement on that life, and on the wretchedness of working for Gorvy, but she was still a drudge—fetching for others, cleaning up after others, and cooking for others, with little benefit to herself. Who was to say that this new “home” she was supposed to find would be any different?

“Besides,” Lucio continued, “who would want us? Someone might take Trint—an’ they’d have to take Ester, too, if they took him—but we’re too old. We’re not cute like Trint,” he rolled up the rug and threw it in the corner, “an’ we’re sure not as nice as Ester.”

Again, Teehma had to agree. But she wasn’t about to let Lucio have the joy of being right. “We’re old enough to be apprenticed. We could learn a trade, like the dupes are doing.”

“And go on doing more drudgery.” He leaned over the balcony and squinted at the distant peaks of the Duvarian Range. “What would it be like to get out on our own? To get up when we wanted? Eat when we wanted? Sleep when we wanted?”

Teehma followed his gaze. “If you’re thinking of escaping to the Range, you’re a silly
narfat
. The mountains would kill you and if they didn’t, some wild fennel would.”

“Shows how much you know. Fennels don’t live in the Range. They like the woodlands.”

“Oh yeah? How do you know?”

He shrugged and scratched his head. His now-clean blond hair had been neatly trimmed for the first time in his life and he was still getting used to it. “One of the old monkey’s lessons. He says if I ever learn to read, I can find those things out for myself—I guess ‘till then I have to listen to him go on about ‘em.”

Teehma gave an unlady-like grunt and followed him into the house. Sirin was teaching them both how to read, but only Lucio was getting the geography lessons. The munkke-trophe, who believed that all girls should know how to keep house properly, had put her under the charge of the female dupe, Lidia. Every morning, she was forced to learn the domestic arts, while Lucio learned about more exciting things like military history and where fennels lived. Lidia was a gentle and effective teacher, but her efforts were wasted on a girl like Teehma, who equated being female with being cooped up inside or being sold as the worst sort of slave. Though she would never admit it to him, she was jealous of the privileges Lucio enjoyed just for being a boy.

Crossing by the top of the spiraling staircase, the two were surprised to hear Sirin’s voice below. He was not due back for several hours yet, but nevertheless they heard his sonorous tones in conversation with another, lighter voice.

“You’ve come for the boy, no doubt,” they heard the munkke-trophe say. Lucio and Teehma looked at each other in alarm.

“If the boy needs a home,” said the other voice, “my wife and I would be happy to give it to him. Ever since we lost our own Nes. . .”

Sirin cut him off. “You know the child is very dependent on the blind girl. He’ll barely talk with anybody else.”

Teehma stifled a guffaw. What four-cycle old wouldn’t be scared stiff around Sirin? Trint talked to her and Lucio plenty.

The other voice continued, sounding very earnest. “We understand that he’s very attached to the girl. If you don’t think. . .” Here the voice paused, as if its owner were considering something. “If you don’t think the boy will be happy without her, we would be willing to take her in, as well. You say that she’s very useful around the house.”

“I’d say she’s more helpful than the others combined. The two older ones mope as if they’ve been whipped.”

“If we could return to the boy. . .”

“The boy’s yours, but you’d better take the girl, too. I’ll come around tomorrow to your house to make sure everything is in order. Then if all is as I see fit, you’ll have yourself two new bratlings.”

Teehma and Lucio did not bother with the rest of the conversation. They had to talk to Trint and Ester before Sirin did. Trying to ignore the feeling like they’d been punched in the stomach, they hurried to the kitchen. Ester was there, washing some vegetables, while Trint was sitting at the butcher-block table, kicking his feet and fingering the necklace the man Vancien had given him. When they came in, he jumped to his feet.

“Ester says I have to eat all those veg’tables tonight!” he announced. “She says Sirin won’t be happy if I don’t eat ‘em all. But I don’t
ever
see Sirin eat veg’tables.”

“Hush,” Lucio ordered, steering Ester away from the washbasin and toward the table. “You both just sit down and be quiet. We have some news.” Then he looked at Teehma, uncertain how to begin.

“Sirin’s found you a home.” Teehma blurted out. Better to have it done and over with.

Trint gave a loud whoop and started running around the table. But Ester did not move. “For whom has he found a home?” she said, so quietly that Teehma barely heard her.

Teehma was not given to discernment or compassion, but one would have to be a stone not to sympathize with the girl. She was relieved that her answer was a good one. “He found the same home for both of you. You and Trint will live together.”

The sigh that Ester released sounded as if she’d been holding in it for cycles. She reached for Teehma’s hand, and when she found it, Teehma could feel her shaking. “That is good news. I don’t know what I would have done. . .but what about you? And Lucio? Will you come, too?”

Teehma fought back tears while Lucio forced Trint back into a seat. The boy’s excitement and Ester’s profound relief only exacerbated their own disappointment. “Sirin only talked about you and Trint. I think that we’ll stay here.”

“Like the great green Chasm we will,” Lucio interrupted. “The day you and Trint leave, Teehm’ and I are going too.”

Trint’s jubilation ceased as soon as he figured out that Teehma and Lucio would not be accompanying them. “Are you gonna follow us?”

Teehma glared at Lucio. “Lucio and I are not going anywhere. And I’m sure that, if you want, your new family will let you come visit us.”

Trint’s eyes grew even wider as he wailed, “I don’t wanna visit you! I want you to come with us!”

“We can’t, Trint,” Teehma replied even as Lucio proclaimed, “We’re not staying!” The two girls ignored him in their efforts to comfort Trint; they barely noticed him stalk out of the room.

Two days passed awkwardly. Ester and Trint were torn between excitement about their new prospects and reluctance to leave the other two. Teehma, on the other hand, had her hands full trying to keep Lucio from flying off the handle at the slightest provocation. Sirin did not help matters. After officially announcing the news, he proceeded to order the older two to wait on the younger two. Lucio was supposed to polish Trint up and teach him to mind his manners, while Teehma was pushed into all the chores Ester would be leaving behind. The result was more awkwardness and resentment. Consequently, when the day came for Ester and Trint to leave, Teehma and Lucio suffered from violently mixed emotions.

Sirin woke them all up early that morning and told them to come down to the parlor. After some quick washing, they staggered downstairs and laid eyes for the first time on Trint and Ester’s new masters.

The man was tall, so tall that Trint barely came up to his knees. He looked like a giant standing among the miniature furniture of the parlor, there being no comfortable place for him to sit. He had a kind face and a ready smile. There was a lady standing next to him, whose plump figure complemented his height. She wore a plain dress, a plain apron over it, and a colored scarf which hid all of her hair. Her face, too, was cheerful, although a little sad. When she saw Trint, she gave a little gasp and then retreated to the corner.

Sirin took up the introductions. Pushing Trint and Ester forward, he said, “These are the two brat—er, children. Trint and Ester. You can see that they’ve had hard lives.” He pointed to the scar on Trint’s cheek and to Ester’s unseeing eyes. “I trust you won’t make life any harder for them.”

The woman stayed in the corner, but the man crouched down in front of Trint, who watched him nervously. “Hello, Trint. My name is Tertio. I own a store not too far from here, where I sell all sorts of food and clothes. This is my wife.” He pointed to the lady, who was watching the proceedings at a distance. “Her name is Alisha.”

Trint looked at him, then at her, then at Ester. Then he gave a jerky gesture in the direction of the last. “This is Ester.”

Ester, ever timid and polite, gave a small curtsy. “Hello, sir. I am pleased to meet you.”

The man looked back again at his wife before responding. “Ester, my wife and I are very glad to welcome you to our home. We lost a boy about Trint’s age two cycles ago, but we’ve never had a daughter. We understand that you and Trint are very close; we will not try to separate you.”

Ester managed another small curtsy and a quiet “thank you.” Then the man brought his wife forward and began talking some more with the two children. Teehma was beginning to wonder why she and Lucio had been brought down at all when, to her surprise, the man fixed his gaze on them.

“You must be Teehma and Lucio. Sirin told us about you.”

Teehma had been so focused on the scene before her that she had not noticed that the munkke-trophe had fallen asleep on a cushion. At the mention of his name, however, Sirin jerked and rubbed bleary eyes. “What? Are you still here?”