The Quartered Sea (22 page)

"I am sorry, gracious one."

The tul caught his arm as he began to sink back toward the floor. "It was a joke, Benedikt."

The tul hadn't actually been joking. No matter what he'd said, the emotion in his voice made his feeling on the matter quite clear. It
wasn't
good for anyone to be so much taller than the tul, but as there was nothing Benedikt could do to be shorter, he straightened.

"Your body is damp." Tul Altun spread one hand on the warm air rising from Benedikt's chest and leaned slightly forward. "And there is a musky scent… not entirely unpleasant. Why is that?"

Ears burning, Benedikt hung onto his skirt with both hands. The tul smelled faintly of cinnamon, and the sharp, exotic scent only made his reaction worse. There wasn't a Petayn word for it so he used Shkoden. "I
sweat
, gracious one." Born and raised in the heat, the Petayans didn't seem to sweat, and his sweating had fascinated Xhojee as much as it now did the tul—although his reaction to Xhojee's fascination had not been so extreme.

"You are uncomfortable in these clothes."

It wasn't actually a question, but it seemed safest to agree. "Yes, gracious one."

"Have clothing made as you would wear in your own land. Tell your attendant that you speak with the voice of the tul; he'll see to the details."

It took Benedikt a moment to realize that his attendant could only be Xhojee. Attendant to a warrior of Tulpayotee— he could just hear Xhojee's reaction to that.

"So what did you do in Shkoder over the sea?" A sudden thought locked the tul's gaze back on Benedikt's face. "Were you a priest?"

"No, gracious one." About to declare himself a bard of Shkoder, Benedikt paused. There was no word for
bard
in Petayn, perhaps that was a sign. Time after time, he'd proved himself not particularly adept at carrying the responsibilities that came with the position, perhaps it was time to put them down. Besides, he was a bard in Shkoder because in Shkoder people recognized what a bard was. Here… "I Sang, gracious one."

"You sang?"

"No, gracious one, I Sang." About to explain about the kigh, a dark glare from the tul closed his teeth on the difference.

"I understand. You sing. I heard you this morning. An entertainer," he added eagerly, almost to himself, "will be an asset. You've been trained to perform?"

Benedikt nodded. "Yes, gracious one."

"Good." Circling around him once again, he tapped the taller man in the center of his chest. "Do you know what I want from you, Benedikt?"

"Very good. Yes, I want you should pretend to be a warrior of Tulpayotee." The tul's eyes narrowed. "This morning's happy accident has convinced Ooman Xhai you are who rumors—my rumors—say you are. I had my doubts that your looks alone could do it, so perhaps Tulpayotee is smiling on my attempt."

Attempt to do what
? Benedikt wondered.

"If you can evoke the god on demand, however, it occurs…" His voice trailed off, and Benedikt had the impression the tul was staring into a future he couldn't wait to begin creating. Considering the predatory edges in his smile, it wasn't likely to be a very pleasant future for everyone involved. "As for this morning," he said, suddenly returning to the present, "you're pardoned for waking me. Don't do it again."

Benedikt watched the tul walk over to a low dais, step up onto it, and sink gracefully onto a pile of cushions.
What if I don't want to pretend to be a warrior of Tulpayotee
? He had a feeling that his choices were limited, that the tul, who had made it quite clear from the beginning that he'd had a use for him, would not take a refusal well. Did it matter?
What would I pretend to be instead
? His gaze locked on the smooth planes of the tul's face, he discovered he didn't want to know the answer.

"I won't finalize my plans until I know how useful you can be. After tomorrow morning…"

Maybe I should warn him that he's counting on the wrong bard… man.

The tul paused and focused on Benedikt once again. "What is it?"

His attention felt like the calm before the storm that had driven the
Starfarer
to the bottom of the sea. He'd had no control over that storm either. "Were there others found like me, gracious one?"

"Like you? You mean the others on your ship? No." Tul Altun shook his head, slender braids tipped in scarlet feathers sweeping across his shoulders. "I sent my people out to scour the beaches, but you were the only one found."

Now
left no time for anything but a quick squeeze of Benedikt's arm as Xhojee hurried into the chamber wondering why his mother had thought it such a good thing he be brought to the attention of the tul.

Benedikt stood where he was for a moment, until he heard the bells at the other end of the entrance chime, and then he started back to his rooms. He'd been told not to wait. He hoped that meant the tul assumed he could find his own way, not that there'd be no point in waiting as he wouldn't be seeing Xhojee again.

Through the stone doors, standing in the open hall, Benedikt looked out at what little of the world he could see past the shoulders of the guards. Would they stop him if he tried to leave? And would they stop him with words or with the barbed points of their spears?

And where would I go ?

"We're lucky, we have the security of knowing that our talent defines us."

Redefines us
, Benedikt corrected the Terezka of memory as he started up the second flight of stairs.
He wants me to be a warrior of Tulpayotee
.

And what does that involve?

I'm sure he'll let me know.

The halls were empty again. He wondered how they, the other inhabitants of this huge building, knew when he'd be returning. Surely the tul hadn't insisted they stay hidden from the moment he left his rooms until he was safely tucked away again?

All at once, he had the sudden fear that there weren't any others. He hadn't seen the healer or Xhojee's mother for days. Perhaps he, and Xhojee, and the priest, and the tul were the only four people left in the world. And Xhojee had been taken away from him.

All right, so he hadn't gone out of his way to make friends among the bards, but wasn't it enough that he'd never see those few again?

The faint sounds of his footsteps, the only sound he could hear, seemed to grow louder, to echo, to slam against his head until he had to stop and put his hands over his ears.

"
I sent out my people to scour the beaches, but you were the only one found
."

He hadn't realized how much he'd held onto the hope, deep in his heart, that there'd been other survivors. That he hadn't failed them all.

That hope was gone.

Empty heart, empty halls; hands still clutching his head, he stumbled back to his rooms, bounced back and forth from wall to wall in the entrance, and finally ended up in the bathing room where he teetered on the edge of the deep tile tub.

The water was tepid and scented with one of the flowers from the garden. He stripped off skirt and sandals in seconds and slid into the bath. The tub was large enough that he could lie down with his head under the water.

Blinking water from his eyes, Benedikt stared at the ripples where the kigh had been. This was the first kigh he'd seen in Petayn, but then this was the first time he'd tried to drown himself. Pushing wet hair back off his face, he got his feet beneath him and began to rise. The water clung to his body, pulling him back.

He allowed the water to win although he could have broken its hold. When he softly Sang the four notes to call the kigh, it reformed so quickly it had to have been waiting for the call.

Had probably been waiting every time he'd bathed. If all kigh were part of a greater kigh, changing the water was of no significance.

Reaching out a nearly human hand, it touched his check.

"I am the only one who survived." He spoke in Shkoden. "Why?" The fluid body reformed behind the blow from his fist. "Why did you save me and not the others?"

The kigh didn't answer. Benedikt hadn't expected it to, its presence was answer enough. He was a bard of Shkoder.

Had been a bard of Shkoder.

Tears, three, four, a half a dozen fell into the water and the kigh drew them into itself. For a moment, Benedikt thought he could see them, separate saltwater droplets, as little a part of the whole as he was a part of the life he now found himself living.

When the kigh leaned forward, he leaned back and, weeping quietly, accepted the comfort it offered.

Chapter Seven

«
^
»

A very young priest, his head only partially tattooed, came for Benedikt while it was still dark. He woke to see the boy bending over him, fingers on his lips, and he slid out of bed without waking Xhojee.

He'd still been in the bath when the other man had returned, and he'd thanked all the gods in the Circle that he'd made it very clear from the beginning he preferred to bathe privately. He'd managed some kind of reply to Xhojee's worried call and then, a few moments later, managed to Sing a gratitude and dismiss the kigh.

"
I have told the tul everything I know about you
," Xhojee had said with a smile when he emerged. "
I'm to continue giving you instruction
." Some time between the tul and the suite, his hair had been divided into six braids. The smile had disappeared as he got a closer look at his charge. "
Are you all right? Should I send for the physician ?"

Benedikt had shaken his head and sunk down onto the bed. He didn't need the physician, he needed not to be alone. So Xhojee stayed.

It was cool so early in the morning, and Benedikt gratefully put the loose robe offered by the young priest on over his skirt… his sawrap. When he slid his feet into his sandals, the boy hurriedly put his hooded lamp on the floor and knelt to lace them. Embarrassed, Benedikt tried to pull his foot away, but a stern glance told him quite clearly to stop.

Apparently, warriors of Tulpayotee didn't lace their own shoes.

The temple was not in the main building. Benedikt followed his guide down to the open hall—lit now by lamplight, the two lines of guards still on duty—and around to the eastern part of the square where an open archway led to a wide tiled path. Although it was still too dark to see clearly, the lush growth of the courtyard garden seemed to be missing here. In both directions, he could see grass, cropped sheep-pasture short, blending into the darkness.

At the end of the path, a flight of stairs covered the entire side of the building—all four sides of the building Benedikt realized when he reached the top. He snuck a glance back over his shoulder and was amazed to see that he was even with the top of the house. Essentially, the temple of Tulpayotee stood on a huge platform, three stories high.

The actual temple appeared to be made primarily of columns, roofed but open on all sides to the weather. As Benedikt stood staring, the young priest offered him a leather flask and indicated he should drink. The water was warm from being held next to the boy's body and tasted faintly of honey and herbs. The sudden thought that they were trying to drug him disappeared as he realized he'd never have been able to sing with his throat dried by sleep and the climb. He smiled his thanks.