Stone of Tears (97 page)

Pasha snatched him by the arm. “They are blade masters! You managed to kill five of them?”

Richard started walking again. “No, I killed thirty of them.” Pasha gasped. “Her five husbands were among the thirty. Du Chaillu is their spirit woman, and said I was now the leader of her people. She said that since she was the spirit woman, and I their leader, their Caharin, I was now her husband.”

Pasha’s smile crept back. “Then you are not really her husband. She was just telling you some of her savage … some of her Baka Ban Mana spirit babble.”

Richard didn’t say anything. Pasha’s smile evaporated. Her scowl returned. “Then how do you know what her breasts, and the rest of her, looks like?” She looked the other way and gave a sniff. “I suppose she rewarded you for your valor.”

“I know because when they sent me in to kill her, she had a collar around her neck and she was chained to a wall. She was held naked in that collar so that men could rape her whenever they wanted.” Pasha swallowed and looked away again. “She is with child, now, by one of those men. I guess that because the people to be sacrificed are held in a collar, the Sisters never gave a thought to putting a stop to it. I don’t guess the Sisters care much what happens to someone in a collar.”

“The Sisters care,” Pasha said in a small voice.

Richard didn’t argue. He walked on in silence. Pasha looked cold as she folded her arms beneath her breasts. The sky was turning a deep purple, but it was not getting cold; it was still warm.

After a time, Pasha’s step regained a bit of its bounce. She glanced over, the smile back.

“So, what about you? You have the gift. Did your father have the gift, too? Is that where it was passed down from?”

Richard’s mood sank like a rock in a well. “Yes, my father had the gift.”

She looked up hopefully. “Is he still living?”

“No. He was killed a short time ago.”

Pasha smoothed the front of her skirt. “Oh. I’m sorry, Richard.”

Richard’s hand tightened on the reins. “I’m not. I’m the one who killed him.”

She froze. “You killed your father? Your own father?”

Richard’s glare locked on to her. “He had me captured, and put in a collar to be tortured. I killed the beautiful young woman who held the leash to that collar, and then I killed him.”

She had no trouble mistaking the threat in his voice, his words, or his eyes.

Her lower lip began to quiver, and then Pasha burst into tears, turned, and ran. Holding her skirts up in her fists, she went around an outcropping of rock and ran off over the edge of the hill.

Richard let out a long sigh as he tied the reins to a slab of granite. He patted Bonnie’s neck.

“Be a good girl. Wait here for me.”

He found Pasha sitting on a rock with her arms wrapped around her knees as she cried. Richard came around to face her, but she turned her face away. Her shoulders shook as she gasped in racking sobs.

“Go away!” She put her forehead against her knees as she wailed. “Or did you come to slice me to bits?”

“Pasha—”

“All you care about is killing people!”

“That’s not true. I want nothing more than to end the killing.”

“Oh sure,” she cried, “that’s why you speak of nothing else!”

“That’s only because—”

“I’ve been praying for this day nearly my whole life! All I ever wanted was to be a Sister of the Light. The Sisters help people. I wanted to be one of them!” She succumbed to her tears. “I’m never going to be a Sister, now.”

“Sure you will.”

“Not according to you! From what you keep telling us, you intend to kill us all! From the first moment, all you have done is threaten us!”

“Pasha, you don’t understand.”

Her tear stained face came up. “Don’t I? We had a big banquet to make you feel welcome, bigger even than the harvest banquet. I had to go without you and tell everyone you were ill. They all stared at me! The other novices get boys who want to learn. My friends have come to me before, complaining that their young charge brought them a frog or a bug in his pocket. You bring me a mriswith!

“Sister Maren said we did well today. She hardly ever says that. It’s not something she does unless she really means it.

“You were cruel to Sister Maren. She has been headmistress of the novices ever since I came here. She is strict, but that’s because she cares about us. She watches out for us.”

Pasha gasped back a sob. “When I was little, the first day I came to the Palace, I was scared. I had never been away from home. Sister Maren drew a little picture for me. She told me it was a picture of the Creator. She put it on my pillow and told me He would watch over me in the night, so I would be safe.”

Pasha tried to stifle the tears, but couldn’t. “I’ve always kept that picture. I wanted to give it to my boy on his first night, so he wouldn’t be afraid. I had it with me yesterday. When I saw you, saw that you were grown, I knew I couldn’t give it to you. I didn’t want to embarrass you.

“And when I saw you, I thought, well Pasha, he’s not a young boy, like all the other novices get, but the Creator has given me the handsomest man I ever saw. I was so glad I had on my prettiest dress, the one I had been saving for that day.” She gasped for air. “And then you tell me I’m ugly!”

Richard’s eyes slid closed. “Pasha, I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not!” she cried. “You nothing but a big brute! We had everything prepared for you. We gave you one of the nicest rooms in the Palace. You didn’t care. We provided you with money for whatever you might need or want, and you act as if we insulted you. We had fine new clothes for you, and you turn your nose up at them!”

She wiped her tears, but more replaced them. “I’d be the first to admit that there are some Sisters who think too much of themselves, but most are so kind they wouldn’t even step on a bug. And you hold up a bloody sword in front of them and vow to kill them!”

She held up fists full of her skirt and covered her face as she convulsed in sobs. Richard put a hand on her shoulder but she pushed it away.

Richard didn’t know what to do with his hands. “Pasha, I’m sorry. I know it must seem like—”

“No you’re not! You’re not sorry at all! You want the Rada’Han off, but that’s what my job is, to teach you to use your gift so you can get the collar off. But you won’t let me! Without the collar, you would have died.

“Two Sisters have given their lives for you. They will never come home to their friends. Those friends wept in secret, and put on a smile to welcome you. In return for trying to help you, trying to save your life, you threaten to kill us all!”

Richard put a gentle hand to her head. “Pasha …”

“I’m never going to be a Sister. Instead of getting a boy who wants to learn, I get a madman with a sword. I will forever be the object of laughter at the Palace. Young girls will be told to behave themselves or they will end up like Pasha Maes, and be put out like she was. My dreams have come to ruin.”

It hurt him to see her sobbing in such pain and sorrow. Richard took her up in his arms. She fought him at first, trying to push him away, but when he pulled her against him and put her head to his shoulder, she went limp and cried all the harder. Richard held her tight and rubbed her back as she trembled and cried. He rocked her gently in his arms.

“I only wanted to help you, Richard,” she sobbed. “I only wanted to teach you.”

He hushed her. “I know. I know. It will be all right.”

She shook her head against his shoulder. “No it won’t.”

“Yes it will. You’ll see.”

Finally, her hands came up, clutching his shirt as she cried. Richard didn’t try to stop her tears, he simply held her, trying to give her comfort.

“Do you really think that you could teach me to use the gift, and that then the Sisters would take the collar off?”

She sniffled. “That is my job. That is what I have been training for. I wanted so much to show you the beauty of the Creator, of his gift to you. That is all I wanted.”

Her arms circled him. She clung to him, as if trying to soak up succor. He stroked her hair.

“Richard, when I touched you yesterday, when I touched your Rada’Han, and felt something of your Han, I felt some of your feelings. I know you hurt inside. It made me hurt just to feel a little of it.”

Her hand came up to the side of his neck, as if to comfort him. “I don’t know of many things that can cause that much hurt. Richard, I’m not asking to take her place.”

Richard’s eyes closed as his head sank down on her shoulder. He swallowed back the pain. She ran her fingers through his hair and held his head to her.

After a time, he found his voice. “Maybe it wouldn’t hurt me to occasionally wear one of those outfits.”

She pushed away a little, looking up through her tears. “Maybe just to the dining room, with the Sisters?”

He shrugged. “That would be a good use of them, I guess. You pick one you would like me to wear. I don’t know anything about fancy clothes.” He managed a small smile. “I’m just a woods guide.”

Her face brightened. “You would look handsome in the red coat.”

Richard winced. “The red one? Does it have to be the red one?”

She ran her finger down the Agiel hanging from his neck. “No, it doesn’t have to be that one. I just thought it would look good on your broad shoulders.”

Richard sighed. “I will feel foolish in any. It might as well be the red.”

“You will not look foolish; you will look handsome.” Pasha grinned. “You’ll see. All the women will be batting their lashes at you.” She lifted the Agiel. “Richard, what is this?”

“Just sort of a good luck charm. You ready to go back? I think you need to get started teaching me. The sooner you start, the sooner I get this collar off. Then we’ll both be happy; you will be a Sister, and I will be free.”

He put his arm around her shoulders and she put hers around his waist as they walked back for Bonnie.

On the bridge to Halsband island, in a pool of light under a lamp, a crowd of boys and young men mobbed them. Many were dressed in fine clothes, some wore robes, and each had a Rada’Han around his neck. They all excitedly asked questions at the same time, wanting to know if it was true that Richard had killed a mriswith, and what it looked like. They wanted to tell Richard their names, and clamored for him to draw his sword and show them how he had vanquished the legendary monster.

Pasha spoke to the most persistent boy at her hip. “Yes, Kipp, it’s true that Richard killed a mriswith. Sister Maren is studying it now, and if she deems it appropriate, she will tell you of its nature. But I can tell you true that it is a fearsome looking beast. Now, off with you all. It’s nearly dinner time.”

Despite their disappointment that no more information was forthcoming, they were excited by what they had heard. They ran off in a bunch to tell others.

After leaving Bonnie at the stables, Richard walked with Pasha down halls and through vast chambers, trying to memorize the layout. She pointed out the boys dining halls, and the dining hall where the Sisters and some of the older young men ate. She also took him past the kitchens, where the aromas of cooking wafted through the surrounding corridors.

Pasha pointed through a lattice-covered archway to a graceful stone wall running under the spreading branches of trees. The wall was veiled in places by vines. Large white flowers dotted the green.

“That is the Prelate’s offices, and quarters,” Pasha said.

“Will she be at dinner tonight?”

Pasha giggled softly. “No, of course not. The Prelate does not have time to have dinner with us.”

Richard turned out of the hall and down a walkway toward a gate in the wall.

“Richard! What are you doing? Where are you going?”

“I want to meet the Prelate.”

“You can’t simply go visit her!”

“Why?”

She hurried along beside him. “Well, she is a busy woman. She can’t be bothered. They won’t let you see her. The guards won’t even let us through the gate.”

He shrugged. “It won’t hurt to ask, will it? Then, after, you can pick an outfit for me, and we’ll go to have dinner with the Sisters. All right?”

The offer of letting her pick his outfit gave her pause. Pasha stuttered that she supposed it wouldn’t hurt just to ask and struggled to keep up as he marched toward the guard. The guard stepped before the iron gate, spread his feet, and hooked his thumbs on his weapons belt as Richard strode right up to him.

Richard put a hand to the man’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry. Forgive me. Please? I didn’t get you in any trouble, did I? I hope not. She hasn’t come out to yell at you, yet, I hope.”

The man frowned in confusion as Richard leaned closer. “Look … what’s your name?”

“Swordsman Andellmere. Kevin Andellmere.”

“Look Kevin, she said she would send the guard at the west gate to get me if I was even one minute late. She probably forgot to send you out. It isn’t your fault. Look, Kevin, I promise I won’t mention your name. I hope you’re not angry with me.”

Richard put his back to Pasha and leaned even closer to the guard. “You understand.” He rolled his eyes meaningfully toward Pasha and then gave the man a wink. Kevin glanced to Pasha as she fussed with her tangled mat of hair. “Eh? You understand, I’m sure. Look, Kevin, say you’ll let me buy you an ale. Will you? I better get in there before I get you in trouble, but before I go, promise me you’ll let me buy you an ale, to make it up to you?”

“Well, I suppose I could let you buy me an ale …”

Richard clapped Kevin on the shoulder. “There’s a good man.”

Pasha was right on Richard’s heels as he stormed past the guard and through the gate. He turned and gave Kevin a wave and a smile.

Pasha leaned close. “How did you do that? No one gets through the Prelate’s guards.”

Richard held the door into the building opened for her. “I just gave him too much to think about, and a worry he feared might be true.”

When an answer came to her knock, they stepped into a dimly lit room with two desks, and two Sisters.

Pasha curtsied. “Sisters. I am novice Pasha Maes, and this is our new student, Richard Cypher. He was wondering if he might meet the Prelate.”

Both Sisters glowered at her. The one on the right spoke. “The Prelate is busy. Dismissed, novice.”

A little pale, Pasha curtsied again. “Thank you for your time, Sisters.”

Richard gave a little bow. “Yes, thank you, Sisters. Please give the Prelate my kindest regards.”

“I told you she wouldn’t see us,” Pasha said on the way out.

Richard hiked his pack up higher on his shoulder. “Well, we gave it our best try. Thanks for indulging me.”

He had known that Pasha had been right, that the Prelate wouldn’t see them, but he had seen what he had come to see. He had only been interested in knowing the layout of the building and grounds for future reference.

Richard hadn’t changed his mind about his captivity, but he had decided to try a different approach for a while. He would bide his time, and see what they could teach him. Nothing would please him more than to be released from the collar without having to hurt anyone.

In the building that housed his room, Gillaume Hall, named after a prophet, Richard had learned, a young man came hesitantly out of the shadows on the lower level, before the wide marble stairs. His head of curly blond hair was cut short at the sides. His hands were stuck into the opposite sleeves of his violet robes. Silver brocade circled the cuffs and neck. He looked smaller than he was because of the way he hunched over.

His head bowed to Pasha while his blue eyes searched for a safe place to settle. “Blessings on you, Pasha,” he said softly. “You look lovely tonight. I pray you are well.”

Pasha squinted in thought. “Warren, isn’t it?” His head bobbed, surprised that she knew his name. “I’m fine, Warren. Thank you for asking. This is Richard Cypher.”

Warren gave a sideways look and smiled shyly at Richard. “Yes, I saw you before the Sisters, yesterday.”

“I suppose you, too, want to know about the mriswith,” Pasha said with a sigh.

“Mriswith?”

“Richard killed a mriswith. Isn’t that what you wanted to ask about?”

“Really? A mriswith? No …” he turned back to Richard. “I wanted to ask if you would care to come down to the vaults some time, and look at the prophecies with me.”

Richard didn’t want to embarrass the young man, but he had no interest in prophecies. “I’m honored by the offer, Warren, but I’m afraid that I’m not much good with riddles.”

Warren diverted his eyes to the floor. “Of course, I understand. Not many of the others are much interested in the books, either. I just thought that maybe, well, I just thought that since you mentioned that particular prophecy yesterday, that maybe you would want to talk about it. It’s a unique piece of work. But I understand. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

Richard frowned. “What prophecy?”

“The one you mentioned at the end. About you being, well,” Warren swallowed, “the bringer of death. It’s just that I don’t think I’ve even met anyone from the prophecies before.” He blinked in awe. “Since you are in the prophecies, I thought, well, I thought maybe …” his voice trailed off. He looked down at the floor as he started to turn away. “But I understand. I’m sorry to have …”

Richard gently caught hold of Warren’s arm and turned him back. “Like I said, I’m not very good with riddles. But maybe you could teach me something about them, so I wouldn’t be so ignorant. I do like to learn.”

Warren’s face brightened. His whole body seemed to swell. When he straightened, he was almost as tall as Richard.

“I’d like that. I would really like to talk to you about that prophecy. It’s a real conundrum. To this day, the argument over it has never been settled. Maybe with your help …”

A broad shouldered man in plain robes, and wearing a Rada’han, slipped up silently, took a fistful of Warren’s robe at the shoulder and moved him aside. His eyes were locked on Pasha the whole time. He gave her a smooth smile.

“Good evening, Pasha. It will be dinner time soon. I’ve decided to take you.” His eyes glided down the length of her and then back up. “If you can get yourself cleaned up. And do something with your hair. You look a mess. You better get to it.”

He started to turn away. Pasha put her arm through Richard’s.

“I’m afraid I have other plans, Jedidiah.”

Jedidiah gave Richard a cursory glance. “What, this country boy? The two of you going to go chop wood, or maybe skin rabbits?”

“You’re the one,” Richard said. “I remember your voice. You’re the one who called down from the balcony, yesterday, asking, ‘All by yourself?’”

Jedidiah’s condescending smile looked to come easily to him. “An appropriate question, don’t you think?”

Pasha lifted her chin. “Richard killed a mriswith.”

Jedidiah’s eyebrows went up in mock wonder. “Well how brave of the country boy.”

“You’ve never killed a mriswith,” Warren spoke up.

Jedidiah slowly turned a withering glare on Warren. Warren shrank away. “What are you doing above ground, Mole?” He turned back to Pasha. “And did you see him kill it? I would wager he was alone when he claimed to have killed it. He probably found a mriswith that had died of old age, stabbed it with his sword, and then bragged to you, to try to impress you.” He redirected a smirk to Richard. “Isn’t that about the way it happened, country boy?”

Richard grinned. “You’ve caught me cold. You have it right.”

“As I thought.” He twitched a small smile to Pasha. “Come to me later, child, and I’ll show you some real magic. A man’s magic.”

Jedidiah strode away imperiously and disappeared around a corner. Pasha put her fists to her hips.

“Why did you say that! Why did you let him think that!”

“I did it for you,” Richard said. “I thought you wanted me to stop causing trouble and act a gentleman.”

She folded her arms in a huff. “Well, I do.”

Richard turned to Warren, still shrunk back against the marble newel post. “If he does anything to you, Warren, I want you to come tell me. It’s me that’s the the thorn in his pants. If he takes it out on you, you come tell me.”

Warren brightened. “Really? Thank you, Richard. But I don’t think he would bother with me. And I’ll be seeing you down in the vaults, when you have the time.” He cast a shy smile at Pasha. “Good night, Pasha. So nice to see you again. You look lovely tonight. Good night.”

She smiled. “Good night Warren.” She watched him scurry off down the hall. “What a strange young man. I almost couldn’t remember his real name. Everyone calls him the Mole. He almost never comes up from the vaults under the Palace.”

She glanced sideways to Richard. “Well, you’ve made a friend tonight who can be of no help to you, and an enemy who can harm you. You stay away from Jedidiah. He’s an experienced wizard, close to being released. Until you learn to defend yourself with your Han, he can hurt you. He can kill you.”

“I thought we were one big happy family.”

“There is a pecking order among wizards. Wizards with the strongest power vie for dominance. It sometimes gets very dangerous. Jedidiah is the pride of the Palace, and does not take well to the idea that another may challenge his supremacy.”

“I am hardly a challenge to the power of a wizard.”

Pasha lifted an eyebrow. “Jedidiah never killed a mriswith, and everyone knows that.”

Feeling decidedly uncomfortable in the red coat Pasha had selected, Richard tried to enjoy the lentil porridge they had prepared especially for him. Pasha wore a stunning dark green dress that did more to reveal her figure than cover it. Richard thought it revealed more of her breasts than was prudent. The young men there as guests of Sisters or their novice did little eating, and a lot of watching. None missed a move Pasha made.

Many of the young men in collars came by and introduced themselves to Richard, saying they wanted to get to know him better. They promised to show him the city and some of its more interesting sights. Pasha’s face reddened at the last. Richard asked if they knew where the guards went for ale, and they promised to take him there whenever he wished.

Sisters of every age, shape, and size came to greet him. They all acted as if the events of the night before had never take place. When Richard asked Pasha why, she said all the Sisters understood the difficulty a young man had in making the adjustment of coming to the Palace. She said they were accustomed to such outbursts of emotion, and didn’t take them to heart. Richard kept to himself the thought that this time they should.

Some of the Sisters smiled and said they hoped they would be given the opportunity to work with him, and a few scowled and promised they would be seeing him, and promised not to be tolerant of anything less than his best efforts. Richard smiled and said he would give them nothing less than his best. He wondered to himself what he was committing to.

Near the end of the meal, two attractive young women, one in a satiny pink dress, the other in yellow, rushed in, stopping at various tables, speaking in whispers to other young women. They at last came to the corner where Richard and Pasha sat.