The Eunuch's Heir (11 page)

“Rhys’s boy,” Elyn repeated, but he ignored her and walked away, to light a candle for his granddaughter.

WHEN THEY
finally touched the stone jetty at Khuran, the vast Hemijrani port, Wolfram knelt on his wobbly knees and gave praise to the Lady that their voyage had been uneventful. Between the unaccustomed roll of the ship and the spice of their strange foods, Wolfram’s stomach had tossed quite enough without storms or swells.

“Isn’t it beautiful, brother!” Melody dropped down gleefully beside him, twirling about with her arms open wide. She had traded in her man’s clothing for a slim-fitting outfit of Hemijrani silk. The tunic fell past her knees, but had slits at the sides to reveal her shapely legs, ill concealed by slim breeches.

“I wish you’d wear a proper skirt.” Wolfram rose unsteadily. After his predictions that she would turn back after a day of adventure, she made the best of it while he would give anything for a bed of furs and pine boughs on solid ground, and Morra’s undemanding company instead of Melody’s mystery and exuberance.

A blare of noise dragged his attention back toward the shore.

Along the wide stone jetty, a bizarre procession approached. It bristled with twisting goat horns and brass instruments bleating obscenities against the realm of music. Defying her name, Melody clapped as they drew nearer.

“For us, Wolfie, isn’t it wonderful?”

The ranks of wild musicians parted, revealing behind them a sight even more astonishing. Wolfram gawked, his head
tilted back to stare up at the six monstrosities. Each seemed the size of a small house, with gray, wrinkled hide and a huge, flexible appendage rearing and reaching out before. Flowered designs in red and blue twined up their legs and over their faces to where tiny men perched, feet behind the beasts’ gigantic ears. How the riders did not come plummeting down, Wolfram could not tell.

The lead driver lifted his stick and smote his enormous mount upon the forehead, causing a retort like the explosion of lightning in a dead tree. As one, the creatures bent up their long noses, slumped back upon their hind legs and settled to the ground. Behind them marched lines of men wearing armor made from bound grasses. Every one of them held a long, curving sword and wore a patch over one eye, left or right apparently at random. Painted on each patch was a wide, unblinking eye.

Wolfram suddenly noticed that Melody had gripped his hand, and now clenched it to her chest, so he could feel the leaping of her heart. Her pale skin flushed, her mouth open, the pink tongue protruding a little as if she would taste the scene as much as look upon it. The quickening of his loins, which he had struggled to ignore every night she had lain on a nearby bunk, threatened to overcome him. “Sister, sister,” he repeated under his breath. It could well be true.

“They have elephants, Wolfie. I’ve only dreamed of them before now.”

From the tasseled enclosure on top of the lead beast, a figure emerged, assisted down by a few men taller than the rest. The woman alighted and came forward with small, swaying strides, the tassels of her own scarves twitching time with her hips. She was rounder than the others, with a full woman’s shape accented by the drape of fabric in rich hues of purple. Upon her breast hung a pendant of the Sacred Pair, the joined god and goddess these heathens worshipped with who knew what rites. She wore no shoes, but rings of gold adorned her toes, and a pattern of scars decorated the tops of her feet.

When she was a short distance from them, she wiped tears from her cheek, and offered a tremulous smile. “Please, forgive me, Highnesses. I did not wish to show such emotion. It is not our way.”

Embarrassed, Wolfram only gave a little shrug.

Melody moved forward to meet her, stopping a few feet short as if unsure what to do. “Please, don’t cry,” she said, “we’ve come to help you, however we can.”

“I am blessed by the Two just to see you, child.” The woman raised a tentative hand to her, then hesitated. “May I touch you, Highness? No harm will come to you.”

“Of course, if it can give you comfort,” Melody replied promptly, even taking the darker hand in hers, pressing it to her cheek.

Wolfram squinted against the sun, noting that the other woman was not so young as she had first appeared. She kept a younger woman’s grace, but the tracery of lines about her eyes revealed her, as did the silvering of the hair showing beneath her veils.

“Won’t you tell me what’s wrong?” Melody asked.

“I knew your father, Highness. He meant much to me, and I yet grieve his loss. My name is Faedre, though I don’t expect that to mean anything to you. I do not believe your mother would have spoken of me.”

A sudden prickling started in Wolfram’s neck, as if the demon would claw its way up his spine. Ahead of him, Melody stiffened, shifting a little back.

“Were you his—were you the one who loved him, before my mother?” she demanded, a new hardness coming into her voice.

Faedre nodded, her lips pinching together to hold back tears. “My regret was that I could never give him children. If I had, I should have wanted them to be as gracious as yourself, Highness. I see so much of him in you.”

Melody’s head bowed, her shoulders quaking. Wolfram clenched his fists, willed himself to stillness for the sake of the curving swords and the giant beasts around them.

“I do not mean to make you sad,” Faedre went on. “It is
simply that I have so longed to see you, the reminder of the man I loved. Can you forgive me that desire?”

“No need,” the princess whispered, but she covered her face with her hands.

Then Faedre closed the small gap between them, taking Melody in her dark arms and pulling her close to her idol-clad chest. Melody’s slender arms slid likewise around her, as if the two women had sought all their lives for this embrace.

They wept with joy in each other’s arms. The Hemijrani men’s painted eye patches glared on as witnesses. Only Wolfram looked full on, his neck aching, fingers clenching and flexing. Something inside him urged him to take Melody in his arms and carry her off, fleeing with her across the ocean if that’s what it took.

Faedre looked up from Melody’s shoulder and smiled. She beckoned to him with one hand, in a strange gesture curving up and down.

Captured by the gesture, Wolfram forgot his desire for escape. Still, he did not approach them, but felt the tugging of a smile at his own lips. If Melody had found the very person she sought, then their mission could be a brief one and, really, what harm could it do? Yet, even as he returned Faedre’s smile, cold claws gripped his shoulders, kneading him with suspicion.

At last, the women drew apart, blinking at each other. Melody wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Faedre said, “A runner from the ship came up to the castle, and I have been sent to make you welcome and bring you there. Would you go now?”

“Oh, yes.” Melody nodded feverishly. “Will we get to ride the elephants?”

Faedre’s laughter sparkled in the air, her eyes shining as she took Melody’s hand. “Of course, Highness.” She turned and led the princess back to the waiting elephant.

The prickles of anger sharpened, and Wolfram strode forward, but their assistant blocked his way. “Forgive, Highness Wolfram, this is not our way.”

Faedre turned back to him. “Yes, do forgive us. It is not here as it is in your country. Men and women are mostly separate here—certainly they ride separately.” She came back to him in a few quick, light steps. “I should have welcomed you more fully,” she added softly, her dark eyes watching him from her lowered face. A slight smile played about her lips. “You have not had the benefit of a Hemijrani maid, Prince Wolfram. Soon, you shall become better acquainted with our customs. In the meantime, you shall rejoin your sister for refreshment when we have reached the palace.” She curtsied low enough that he could see the dark opening between her breasts. Her voice had lost most of its accent, turning the words in their own tongue with evident pleasure. She rose again and turned her hand in an elegant gesture toward a different elephant.

For a moment longer, Wolfram stared at her, then glanced over to Melody. Waiting by her elephant, arms crossed, Melody glared at him, jerking her head up toward her mount. He gave a little half bow in acquiescence, and she hurried to let the man assist her up. Faedre met his gaze, and said, “You are welcome to my country.”

“Thank you,” he replied, his eyes flickering over her body, taking in the offer she seemed to be making.

His eyes still on her, Faedre turned and swayed off to join Melody.

Wolfram let out a whistling breath and allowed himself a smile. Perhaps Dylan had been right about the Hemijrani ladies. They were not all fragile and shy, nor was their darkness necessarily a liability. He faced his elephant, and the smile slipped, but just a little. The beast’s vast flank was higher than his head. Two small men stood ready to help him up, and he gave himself into their hands, climbing up into the padded enclosure on top. Three sides of his enclosure opened to the view, with a red silk shade overhead, and a thick cushion embroidered with flowers on which to sit. He made himself comfortable and swung wildly to grab one of the wooden posts when the elephant lumbered to its feet. Its pace rocked until he thought he might be sick again. Wol
fram clung to the rails with white knuckles and watched the country around him, trying to turn his mind from the mutiny of his stomach.

The stone jetty where they had landed thrust into the crystal blue water, the farthest jetty of a dozen, and by far the widest, allowing the side-by-side passage of two elephants. At the pier to his right, three large ships stood, sails lowered, their cargoes being unloaded by streams of dark-skinned natives. Some of them sported the eye patches he’d noticed on their escort. At the next dock, the crews of smaller boats heaved writhing piles of fish up onto waiting carts. The salt reek of the sea and the squirming squids and fishes threatened Wolfram’s stomach. He stared toward the city, holding his breath.

It rose up in spired, balconied towers, decked with colorful laundry from the carved stone balusters. Studying the marble sills and lintels, and the decorative window ledges, Wolfram recognized their influence on the gaudy red-and-white palace at Bernholt, a sharp contrast to the rough granite of his former home. One block they passed had rows of seated merchants. Skinny arms flailed up, thin voices wailed offers he could not understand, all desperate for the commerce of a man important enough for an elephant. Behind the vendors, naked children pissed on the elegant walls, or pursued small herds of goats, which were determined to devour all the refuse. Everywhere, veiled women turned their faces from his gaze, and men wore the eye patches, their single revealed eyes staring in frank curiosity.

Reedy music wailed up from men on the corners, blowing on bulbous pipes. The height of the buildings and the density of the people roaming the dirty streets darkened his sight unrelentingly, with no patch of green common or open courtyard. As the heat began to take hold, waves of rot and the stench of humanity rose from the paving stones. Dizzy, Wolfram leaned to vomit over the side of his elephant.

They passed beneath the wall and out onto a dusty road. Here, the large flocks of goats trotted aimlessly in and out of their path, chased by jabbering herders in little more
than loincloths. On both sides, as far as the eye could see, stretched fields plowed by oxen, dotted with fanciful hay mounds shaped like round huts with peaked roofs. Square cottages squatted among them, women and brown children slumping in the sunlight as they milked their goats or gathered onions into baskets carried on their backs. Rangy yellow dogs sniffed despondently at the frequent troughs. Dust from the elephants’ plodding feet gave a mist to the scene around him, mile after mile of the same fields, the infrequent trees with delicate, drooping leaves. Lulled by the trundling gait, Wolfram curled onto his cushion and slept.

THE JOLTING
of the elephant as it maneuvered sideways awoke Wolfram. He rubbed his eyes to clear them of the darkness, then realized that night had fallen on the journey. The beast finally rubbed its wrinkled side against a high stone platform and oil lanterns showed the white-clad men waiting to assist him from its back. Once there, he stumbled down the wide steps, his right foot bursting into tingling agony. A phalanx of servants bore lanterns in a ring around them, and he spotted Melody standing with Faedre a little ways off. She sprinted over to him and threw her arms around him.

“I love elephants! I’m going to insist that my grandfather get a few to impress all those other kings.” Her grin gleamed up at him. “We stopped for lunch, but you were sleeping, so we let you be.”

We
, he thought,
Faedre and Melody.
“I thought you and I were to have this adventure together, sister,” he said, not meaning to sound so bitter.

“I’m sorry. They have such strict rules about men and women, and Faedre seemed so happy to see me…”

“And that’s another thing. Why should she be happy to see her rival’s daughter?”

“Her lover’s,” Melody corrected. “And she was my mother’s favored lady, once. She wanted them both happy. Naturally Mother was jealous when she found out. That’s probably how the story about the curse got started.” The princess harrumphed. “Faedre was exiled and had to humble herself to be accepted home after that disgrace.”

“She must be in good graces now,” Wolfram observed.

“It’s taken her years and repentance to attain her position.” Melody scowled. “When you know her, you won’t be so suspicious.”

Across the ring, Faedre was gazing at them gently. Wolfram met her eyes a moment. A delicate smile trembled upon the lady’s lips, sending a pleasant rush through Wolfram’s body. Perhaps he did not want to share his adventures with Melody in any event, she who was so innocent and childlike. Even Asenith had never watched him with such interest. “After the voyage and that ride, I’m not feeling myself, that’s all.”

Instantly Melody’s face pinched, and she stroked a finger along his cheek. “I don’t seem to have any trouble with sailing. I wish I could help you feel better, though.”

Wolfram turned his smile on Melody. “Your sympathy is help enough for me.”

“Is that a proper thing to say to your sister?”

Reddening, Wolfram withdrew his hands. “I did not mean it so, Melody. It’s just that”—he started, frowning—“it’s nice to know that somebody cares how I feel.”

“Surely your mother—”

He shook his head, cutting her off. “I’ve broken trust with her, and she always has so many other things to be worried about.”

“Mistress Lyssa would not have come looking for you if you were not important. Even for murder, surely they’d rather let you vanish than try to bring you to trial.”

Wolfram flinched away from her, crossing his arms against a sudden chill despite the warmth of the night. “Well, I—” he began, but suddenly Faedre was standing at his elbow, silent and submissive, and he had no idea how long she’d been there. The sickness must have skewed the senses that his time with the Woodmen had honed. He clenched his jaw. “Later, sister, we’ll have more time to talk.”

Faedre’s smile seemed a little flat when he faced her. “Are you hungry, Highnesses? I believe there is food laid for you, if you wish to eat. Then you shall be shown to rooms for the night.”

“Where are we?”

“This is the home of the Jeshan of Hemijrai. Our king, if you will.” When Wolfram opened his mouth again, she held up a firm hand. “Time for more questions when your needs are seen to.” She set out through the opening lines of servants.

Shrugging one shoulder, Melody put out her hand for Wolfram’s. “A long day, that’s all. She’s probably tired, too, from preparing for us, plus her duties.”

“What duties?” Wolfram led her after Faedre’s swaying passage.

“She is the chief priestess, after all.”

Wolfram stumbled and regained himself. “I did not know.” The chill that had hold of his chest spread up with sharp claws into his neck and shoulders.

“Gordiya’s been teaching me some things. It’s very interesting—Faedre says they’ll provide a teacher for you so you can learn about this culture.”

“I’m not much of a scholar.” They came up to a tall flight of stairs decked with a richly patterned rug that led them up into a colonnade surrounding a sunken courtyard. Eerie cries of birds drifted out from the dark trees gathered there like a patch of wilderness. Then something roared.

Melody jumped, clinging to Wolfram with both hands, but Faedre indulged in a throaty chuckle. She crossed to the baluster and leaned down, crooning a few words into the darkness. From below came a breathy pant. Two huge paws stretched up from the vegetation to rest upon the edge: soft, white feet each larger than Wolfram’s own hand—larger than his head, he suspected, but he dared not get that close. The head of the beast emerged from the shadows, pale with black markings and large luminous eyes. Its great jaws opened in a toothy display, the thick pink tongue caressing sharp ivory teeth.

Still crooning, Faedre reached down to where the beast rose to greet her, and scratched it tenderly beneath the chin. The giant cat’s eyes narrowed with pleasure, and its throat produced a purr nearly as disturbing as the previous roar had been.

Still shrinking into Wolfram’s embrace, Melody hissed, “What’s that?”

“Rostam is a tiger,” Faedre said, “and my pet. Aren’t you?” With a final rub beneath its fearsome jaw, she turned back to them.

The tiger opened his eyes fully, gazing a long moment at Wolfram, then removed its feet and sank back into the darkness.

Wolfram let out a long breath, frowning over Melody’s head. “That is your pet.”

“Indeed, Highness, but not one for the faint of heart.” She smiled at him as his grandmother had sometimes done, lips compressed, expressing her smug superiority.

Melody straightened away as he replied, “You seem to have plenty of surprises.”

“Oh? Then you must pardon me for not having prepared you. I shall endeavor to improve my performance.” She nodded to him, as if bowing to his wishes, but her tongue played about her teeth as she smiled. “I did promise you food, Highnesses. This way.” Faedre showed them down a series of corridors, passing many terraces and courtyards. The servants they passed as they walked turned their faces to the wall.

After a few turnings, Melody whispered to Wolfram, “I’ll bet that tiger could outdo Mother’s dogs. I’ll bet he brings down warriors.”

“I’d not like to see,” Wolfram commented.

“I’ve heard that they use big cats in sport here, both hunting, and arena games where they fight each other.” She shuddered. “They don’t look safe.”

“No,” he agreed, eyeing a pair of smaller spotted cats led by on silver chains. The two eyed him back, licking their whiskers.

“Here we are at last,” Faedre said, stepping aside with a sweeping gesture. They had come to another open-air space, partially roofed with billowing silk canopies. Fires burned in braziers dotted about the space, and unfamiliar spices mingled with the smoke in the air. Several low stone tables rose from the intricate mosaic underfoot, and one of these had
cushions around it and was laden with dishes. Two dozen servants—all men with one eye covered—waited nearby. Melody and Wolfram sat side by side, cross-legged on the cushions. They had no personal dishes, but could pick at will from the many platters laid out before them: a few whole-roasted birds, their skins crackling with spices, mounds of cut and whole fruits shaped like stars or bursting with red seeds, steaming onions and eggplants in thick orange sauce, and a plate of ratlike creatures fried whole, their tails sticking out to serve as handles for dipping them into sauces. A male servant whisked before each of them a heaping brass bowl of rice and a smaller bowl of warm water, evidently for washing the fingers.

“Please, enjoy the meal, and I shall return for you when you are through.” Faedre bowed her head briefly, then vanished into the courtyard.

Cautiously, Wolfram scooped up a bit of rice in his fingers and ate it. He waited a moment for rebellion, and found instead that the rumblings were a voracious hunger. Greedily, he reached for the platter of fruit and selected an assortment, which he piled up on his rice as he slurped the juice off his fingers. He used his long knife to skewer one of the roast birds and tore off a leg, then froze, the grease dripping along his fingers.

Melody stared at him. “Aren’t you going to wait for a fork, at least?”

Wolfram chuckled, shaking his head as he took her in, sitting upright on a cushion, wearing strange clothing more like a man’s than a woman’s, and insisting on table manners. He tore into the meat as she tried to get the attention of one of the servants. The servants seemed to have vanished as well, and she frowned at the vast array of food. Wolfram pulled the last scrap of flesh from the bone and tossed it aside.

“Barbarian,” she said, but not without a smile.

Wolfram shrugged one shoulder. “Before I came to Bernholt, I lived with the Woodmen. They have a saying, ‘
Na tu Lusawe, shasinhe goron
,’ which means ‘the gifts of the
spirits are precious and swift.’ They don’t stand on ceremony and they don’t wait for silverware. If you’re not quick about your dinner, somebody else’ll be eating it.”

“I see,” she replied gravely.

“If it makes you feel better, you can have my knife.” He offered it to her, hilt first. “Pretend it’s a fork with only one tine. Be glad there isn’t any soup.”

She hmmphed her answer and delicately started in, prodding a dish with the knife. By the end of the meal, both of them had juices of all sorts running down their hands and chins. He rinsed his fingers, then discovered bits of meat and spices decked his beard. When he glanced up at Melody, she let fly with peals of laughter. He laughed with her. With his stomach pleasantly full and the prospect of a good night’s sleep, the place did not seem so dangerous. He might even begin to enjoy this adventure.

Faedre reappeared shortly, with a small man wearing an amulet similar to hers. Little scars pocked his shaved head as well as the tops of his feet, and several anklets of various metals tinkled as he walked. When he smiled, he revealed that his incisors had been elongated with gold and inset with small rubies. Wolfram winced at the sight, almost tasting the metallic tang.

“Many welcomes to you both, Your Highnesses,” the man said, speaking carefully, his accent much more marked than Faedre’s. “The Hemijrani are indeed most fortunate to have you here and most willingly having come to our aid.”

“Thank you for hosting us so graciously and unexpectedly,” Melody replied, putting on a regal air Wolfram had not known she possessed. “We are honored to come here and look forward to offering whatever assistance we may.”

In the shadows behind Faedre stood the only other female he’d seen since their arrival, a nearly sexless child, slender, clad all in white, with a veil draped over her face. Only her eyes could be seen, through a narrow opening. Dozens of bronze bracelets decked her arms, clinking softly. She hung back, but the bright gaze revealed her interest. Wolfram flashed a smile, and the girl jerked, turning away. A servant stood beside her,
his hand hesitating in a basket, then strewing a handful of fragrant leaves before her.

Faedre followed Wolfram’s gaze to the girl, one dark eyebrow raised, but she said nothing to either of them. To Melody, she said, “I will take you to your room,” gesturing off to the left with the grace of a dancer.

Wolfram, too, rose at this, but the little man let out a sharp, “Ah!” his hands held up in a placating gesture. “You must learn our customs, Highness Wolfram.”

“I should like at least to be shown where my sister will be,” Wolfram said, speaking slowly, one hand drawn inexorably to the growing throb in his temple. “We have come together to your country, we do not know your way, nor your language. It seems only fair that you make an effort to help us be comfortable.”

“Wolfram,” Melody said, pausing, “you’ve not been well. Go to bed, and we’ll talk in the morning, yes?” She glanced to the Hemijrani man.

“Indeed, of course.” He bobbed his head, flashing the golden teeth. “Come, come, and all will be spoken of in the light.”

“You aren’t helping, Melody,” Wolfram muttered, reaching for her arm.

“Don’t be an ass.” She pulled away, arms crossed. “We have to live as these people do and without insulting them. Now I am going to bed.”

Faedre’s eyebrow notched up, one eye crinkling in a faint smile. Again, she bowed to Wolfram and swept off into the darkness, with Melody close behind. The girl in white hovered a moment, watching Wolfram, then turned and lightly hurried off, her servant frantically moving before, sprinkling the leaves for her sandaled feet.

Wolfram snatched his hand away from his face, curling it into a fist as he rounded on the man. For a moment, he breathed through clenched teeth while the other held up his palms, waving them in an attempt to placate him. If he struck the man, what could it prove? Wolfram’s ignorance was complete—he had no place to run to, and he’d already soured his only ally. “Well?” he barked.

“This way, Highness, this way.” He abandoned all pretext of accompaniment and trotted ahead of Wolfram down a bewildering series of corridors.

By the time they had arrived at a beaded curtain, Wolfram had regained control, though the pulse in his head still threatened to burst free.

Bowing over his hands, grinning like a fool, the man ushered him into a large courtyard with a series of doors and arches leading out. “Please be welcome.”

The beads trailed over Wolfram’s shoulders—not unlike the way his lover’s hair had done—and he took a few extra steps to leave the sensation behind. Vast bronze pots held towering trees with strange jagged bark. They had no branches except at the very top, where they spread out in pointed fingers of green. Torches thrust into the pots illuminated them from below, sputtering green sparks and giving off a hint of spices. Seats of marble carved in the shape of elephants hunched beneath the greenery as well, occupied by a chattering troupe of dark-furred monkeys. At Wolfram’s approach, they fell silent, watching him with luminous eyes. They leapt for the trees, pulling themselves up easily. In a moment, small brown fruits began raining down upon him, and Wolfram covered his head, quickly dashing under the shelter of the nearest arch.