Prince of Storms (11 page)

“But there are no more orphans.”

“Perhaps your eyesight is not what it was.” He tossed a small purse at her, and when she failed to catch it, it fell at her feet. Bending down, she found that it was heavy with coins.

This was an insult. “I do not need coins to do my duty.”

“Most people seem to want riches.”

“Well, I do not, rest assured, Excellency.” She returned the purse to him and he set it on the bench beside him. Had it been a test?

“Where are such children, Excellency? We mean to provide for them all, as much as we can. We did not know there were any looking for homes.”

Geng De managed to stand, though the thin cane did not look completely dependable as a prop. With a swaying walk, he gestured Hanwen a little distance into a small copse of sangwan trees where they could not be observed by the children.

He set his cane against a tree and, turning quickly to her, grabbed her at the throat.

“Find the children, you fat gondling. Take the purse or not, but bring the youngsters here and care for them like they were your own two sons.”

She fought him off, gasping in horror. She stood well back from him; they both panted from their exertions. “My sons?”

“Who will never have positions if you fail. And who will be motherless, as well.”

She could only stare at the pudgy navitar, his face distorted by contempt.

“Bring them here, the small ones. Take them by stealth.” He gazed at her until meaning lit up her face. “Oh yes. No matter if they have parents. Those families are inadequate. We will care for them now. You will find at least twenty more.”

Picking up his cane again, he slammed it into the trunk of the tree, leaving an indentation in the soft bark. “No taller than that.”

She stared at the mark. “No taller,” she whispered hoarsely.

He nodded. “The Chalin, no taller than that. And Jout and Hirrin, and the rest, of equal age. Of a pliable age. And say nothing to others. Buy the silence of whom you must.”

She nodded, mutely.

Then his face relaxed. “Sen Ni is comforted by young ones such as Tiejun. Our business, our every care, must be to support and comfort her in her many duties—which soon will encompass the bright realm itself.” He cocked his head. “Small ones are such a comfort. You agree?”

Hand at her throat, she nodded. She looked at the dent in the tree. It was at the height of Tiejun and most two-year-olds. Horrified, she realized that she would have to steal them. Why did he want orphans who were not orphans? She quailed at the thought of abducting young ones, but she dared not refuse.

He left her in the little stand of trees. Following him out, she saw him place a pudgy hand on the heads of several of the young ones as though blessing them.

ANZI WOKE FROM FOUL DREAMS
, lying in a sweat, resentful at the Inyx intrusion into her sleep. At her side, Titus slept on, but there was no sleeping for her now. Not once she remembered about Lord Inweer. Inweer did not dream. He was not alive as most sentients were. It was why he could stand to burn the Rose, to commit that unthinkable act of destruction. She slipped into her clothes and left the sleeping chamber.

Titus chose to let Inweer go free. The creature could roam at will, talk to the escaped solitaires, plan to retake the Entire, and set it all in motion again.

“Bad dreams?” came a voice from behind her.

Zhiya stood beside her curtain, dressed but disheveled.

“The same as you?” Anzi asked.

Zhiya made a sour face. They walked together past Tai's sleeping quarters, the curtain drawn tight, and past the guards at the pavilion door.

Outside, the smoky hues of the ebbing bright threw purple shadows at their feet. Zhiya led the way to the lip of well where the levels of the Magisterium were exposed to view. It was a long drop down. Sometimes Anzi had a hard time remembering that the denizens of the Magisterium lived below, mostly out of view. But here, in the canyon of the deep cutaway, the verandahs of the most important legates caught a glimpse of the bright and the city above.

Zhiya muttered, “Sen Ni makes out Titus as the one who will let the Entire collapse. What she misses in that summary is who started the conflict.
The Tarig. They built a place that needed to kill to survive.” In emphasis, she spat over the rail.

“Yes, it's true. But how can we convince the Entire?” Anzi tried to concentrate on politics, but her thoughts kept moving to her husband and her growing discontent.

“I like my mother's answer,” Zhiya said. ‘Each universe sovereign.'”

A few lights went out in the windows below, as late-working functionaries retired. Anzi blurted out, “Johanna is alive.”

Zhiya gazed in the direction of the largest veranda, the high prefect's. It was empty at this hour. “So I heard. But she did free Titus from the marriage.”

Anzi couldn't keep the words back: “Did he want to be free?”

Zhiya turned to her, eyeing her skeptically. “You think he wants to free Inweer for Johanna's sake?”

“Johanna has suffered.”

“Well, your husband doesn't make a practice of putting his family before millions of lives.”

“He's convinced himself Inweer's not a risk.” She couldn't fail to notice that Zhiya classified Johanna as
family
.

“I have another theory, even worse than yours. What if he's under Geng De's influence?”

Anzi let that statement hang in the air. Ugly. Improbable. “He's the rogue strand. Geng De admitted that.”

“That might change if Geng De is getting stronger. Jin Yi says he's powerful, growing more so.”

Anzi could hardly believe what Zhiya was saying. Zhiya, of all people. She tried to fend it off. “Your mother is a navitar.” Most of them were incapable of coherent thought. This business of twisting people's wills, changing the future…she prayed it could not be done.

Zhiya pressed on. “Geng De's influence could be the reason Titus released Inweer. Then there's the fact that he won't move on Sen Ni's compound. We could use the army if we have to. Why are we waiting?”

Anzi's face heated up. Titus influenced by Geng De? She pushed the thought away. “He doesn't believe Sen Ni is an immediate threat. Or Geng De.”

Zhiya shook her head, smiling in an unpleasant way. “That's a tidy answer, isn't it?”

It was too much. Anzi snapped, “If you think this is true, why haven't you spoken to Titus?”

“I have. He's as blind as you are.” Zhiya turned fully to her, resting her short arm against the rail. “Open your eyes, Anzi. How does our regent seem to you? The same as before?”

A few more lights blinked out in the well of the Magisterium, deepening its inky depths. “Nothing is the same as before,” Anzi whispered.

“My point exactly.”

Anzi stared into the cutaway, thoughts racing. It was an appalling surmise: Titus woven by Geng De. But in the Deep Ebb, the suggestion bloomed like a dark truth.

“You need to speak to him, my dear.”

Anzi looked back at the pavilion. Did she dare push Titus at a time when they seemed already estranged? Imagining that conversation, her heart plummeted. “He won't listen to me,” she said.

“You're the
only
one he'll listen to.”

Zhiya's gaze pinned her, squirming.

In the Jinda ceb city of Tir, in the hut of Venn, Obbwanir found the tray of sweets untouched, a sign that Venn's appetite had not returned. Venn was too old to skip meals, as she did with increasing stubbornness.

“Well, are they just going to let her sit there at our threshold?” Venn glared at Obbwanir as though she was responsible for the rudeness.

“We are aloof from their politics,” Obbwanir declared, as Venn would have known if she ever came to Manifest.

Venn waved a hand. “I am going to see her. This has gone far enough.”

“You cannot. People will be angry.”

“Oh dear. I will be in trouble, you say?” Venn stood up. “Do not wait for me.” She paused, eyeing Obbwanir pointedly. “You know I hate that.”

Obbwanir sighed. “Complete One.” At her glance the tray and its food
folded up, retreating back up the wall. Venn could unfold the food later. If she remembered to eat.

Venn watched Obbwanir leave, annoyed to be called Complete One. She did not feel complete, merely old. Advanced age doubtless led to a certain repetitiousness, a circularity of thought and an inevitable blandness of expression. Her derma contracted in irritation. She had not bothered to look at her back in a thousand days, but everyone claimed it was brilliant. Well, what
would
they say?

Everyone expected that coming home would refresh life artistry. But the homecoming had renewed little. The world was as it ever was, despite the fuss being made about reattachment.

But the personal, now. The impingement on one's very being and self-concept—that was promising. Venn had something actually new in her life, as every adult in the minoral had. A new personal geography. Venn had thought about her gender choice for a long time. Finally, she'd chosen female.

Venn raised her hand to cut a travel slit. She was interested in this Sen Ni creature whom no one was willing to talk to. And furthermore, Venn thought it would be interesting to meet a woman. Someone who'd been female her whole life.

Sen Ni and her servants had been waiting for hours out on the steppe, within sight, if just barely, of the twisting habitations of the Jinda ceb. Her messengers had gone past the junction, beyond the point at which the Scar had formerly marked the storm wall. They had been met with Jinda ceb officials who appeared out of nowhere. Their refusal to grant a meeting was immediate: We cannot offer you hospitality, as we remain detached from these conflicts.

But weren't they already helping Titus? To make a point, Sen Ni decided to spend the night there in her tent. Perhaps they would change their minds. If they did, she had thought of a small gift for them, as a gesture of goodwill.

Just as she left off gazing at the minoral and turned back to her tent, an odd crackling sound came from nearby. A line formed in the air; it curdled
black along its length. One of her Hirrin guards stepped forward, exposing a weapon in his teeth. In another moment a hand appeared from the black line, and then an arm, and finally, as though the person had just come around a corner, the full figure came into view.

Standing before them, to Sen Ni's surprise and great excitement, was a Jinda ceb Horat. Sen Ni waved back her attendants and guards.

The individual regarded them all with a sweeping and shrewd gaze. The Jinda ceb's garment consisted of a supple, draped top coat, combined with a short skirt, and, beneath this, long pants.

Sen Ni wondered if she might have a chance to glimpse the person's life art, but since the individual was facing forward, she could only see the rather nondescript front of the garments: bluish gray, with dark blue in the creases.

Sen Ni stepped forward. “I am Sen Ni. I hoped someone would come.”

When the Jinda ceb merely stared at her, she went on, “I am mistress of the sways of the Inyx and Rim City. I've come to talk.”

“Oh, talk,” the Jinda ceb said. The voice was raspy and soft. “I hope you do not mean political subjects. Do not make the mistake of thinking anyone consults with
me
. Call me Venn. Do you have shade?” The Jinda ceb looked up at the bright as though unaccustomed to being in it.

Sen Ni led the way to the small tent. She asked her attendants to tie up the sides to catch any breezes. “Please sit, Venn. If you like.” Since there was nothing to sit on, she gestured at the ground.

The two of them frankly stared at each other. The Jinda ceb's skin was a deep mahogany color. On the scalp, a roseate display of fleshy disks.

“I have come with questions,” Venn said.

“And I have come with a gift.”

“Well,” Venn said, “we do not need much. Some would say we do not need anything. A dangerous attitude—one I intend to avoid until I die.” A quick tilt of head. “Yes, we die. We decided to keep that all along. We have tried so hard to be like you. We thought it would be useful, when the day came. Not to be too strange.”

She went on, “I chose female, I think I should tell you. Since it seems important in your culture to know.”

“Chose?” Sen Ni tried very hard to think what she meant by this.

“Everyone chose. All part of the homecoming, since gender seems so central, here. If we do not like it, we can switch. But I think it is important for one to live with one's choices. Was it a good choice?”

Sen Ni thought of her disadvantage early on in the barracks, being female, and not a big female, either. She decided it hadn't really hurt her. “Yes, it'll be all right. It won't get you into too much trouble, as long as you don't let anyone push you around.”

“So sentients push on females to conform?”

“Sentients push on anyone they think lacks power. You have to act strong even if you aren't. Then they get the picture and leave you alone.”

“They shun you.”

“No, they give up pushing. Also, they respect you more if you're not afraid to fight.”

“This culture enjoys pushing. Curious.”

“I don't think it's that we enjoy pushing. We enjoy power.”

Venn paused. “You are not being particularly clear.”

Sen Ni was now getting confused herself. “You just don't want to look weak. When I was first among the riders of my sway, that was important. Also, if you're a foreigner…”

“Foreigner?”

“Someone from the outside.” She bit her lip. No one could be more foreign than the Jinda ceb. She stopped in consternation.