The Quartered Sea (24 page)

"So around here…" Benedikt waved his arm to take in the immediate area. "… nothing changes?"

Xhojee stared down at a cold and congealing piece of fish. "I don't know," he said at last. "The Tulparax was on the throne for thirty-seven years. I've never known a change. My mother was a child when the last change happened."

Benedikt thought about the predatory young man who was currently Kohunlich-tul. If he willingly stepped down into second place, it would be only so that he could attack his opponent from behind. "What if the tuls don't want to give up power?"

"But it's the xaan's turn, they have to. The tax rolls will have passed and no one will deal with the tuls because they no longer speak for the house. All they can do is wait for the next change."

Wait? Somehow, Benedikt didn't think so. "Tul Altun said some people thought I was a warrior of Tulpayotee sent to prevent the change."

"That's because they've only known Tulpayotee. They thinks he's real, and they think he's going to stop it, but they're wrong. He isn't, he won't, and you aren't, so it doesn't matter what they think."

"I've decided you're to have religious instruction. A warrior of Tulpayotee should know something of the rituals of his god." The tul paced a circle around Benedikt and stopped too close to his left shoulder. "Xhojee assures me you have the vocabulary."

It wasn't a question, but his pause suggested a response was called for. "Yes, gracious one."

"Good. One of the junior priests will be joining us shortly. Ooman Xhai feels it should be his responsibility, but I don't want the shine wearing off this morning's performance. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"A brand new symbol of Tulpayotee." After two days instruction with an intense young priest who wore the symbol inked into the skin between his eyes, it was the one symbol Benedikt never got wrong. And if he was to be a warrior of Tulpayotee, that was probably for the best.

"Benedikt. Good. I have people here who want to meet you."

As Benedikt moved farther into one of the terraced rooms on the first floor, he noted that some of the tile work appeared to have been recently repaired and the exposed walls had been given a fresh coat of paint. He also noticed that the room held the most people he'd seen in one place since he'd arrived at the house of the Kohunlich-tul.

Ooman Xhai stood just off the dais, at the tul's left shoulder, tattooed head bowed, hands thrust into the sleeves of his yellow robe. He looked up as Benedikt entered and quickly down again. He might have been frowning, but the tattoos made it impossible to be sure.

Two guards, male and female, flanked each side of the door and two more the low dais. A young karjen—or at least a boy Benedikt assumed would be karjen when he had hair enough to braid—stood by a tray table of food and drink, ready should the tul decide to refresh himself. Two slightly older karjen stood by the open terrace doors, each holding a large woven fan.

He noticed that both sets of guards, bracketing his path, were taking full advantage of their position to stare at him without appearing to. The karjen, caught between their curiosity and their tul, did the best they could.

The two people who wanted to meet him were both men, one about the same age as the tul, one considerably older. Both wore their hair in multiple braids, the braids then braided and decorated with feathers. Neither style seemed as elaborate as that of Tul Altun although given the dark-on-dark shadows in their hair, Benedikt found it difficult to be sure. Tul Altun, he noted, wore three long and iridescent green feathers, the whole arrangement falling so elegantly onto one shoulder he made the other two seem coarsely overdone. Although they also sat on the dais, their heads were much lower than the tul's.

Looks like he had a riser added before company came
. An unnecessary addition in Benedikt's opinion. Tul Altun's eyes blazed and drew attention the way a moth was drawn to a flame. Benedikt wasted a moment wishing he Sang fire.

Both men stared at the bard. The older man opened a fan of red feathers and waved it slowly back and forth in front of his face.

Tul Altun smiled. "Benedikt, these are the Becan-tul and the Campeche-tul. They wanted to see you for themselves."

Dropping onto one knee, Benedikt noted how everything,—position, tone, the tul's smile—indicated that the Becan-tul and the Campeche-tul were by no means equal to the Kohunlich-tul. House Kohunlich was one of the six upper houses. Benedikt was willing to wager that House Becan and House Campeche were not.

"No, he isn't." Tul Altun's words were honeyed but the honey dripped from the edge of a very sharp blade. The continuous movement of the Campeche-tul's fan paused, and Benedikt hid a smile. Clearly, he wasn't the only one who'd heard the steel. "Why is that, Benedikt?"

"Take your…" Only a bard could have heard the pause as the tul decided on the most effective way to refer to Xhojee. "… guide with you when you go."

"Yes, gracious one." He added a flourish to his bow, the merest hint of Tadeus, and was rewarded by a flash of honest amusement crossing Tul Altun's face. A small thing, but his heart pounded as he left the room.

"Oh, my," the Becan-tul sighed after a moment. "He is magnificent. Tulpayotee in the flesh. Such shoulders. Such hair. And his eyes, have you ever seen such eyes? And his voice—it stroked feathers up and down my spine."

The Campeche-tul snorted. "You don't honestly believe this stranger has anything to do with Tulpayotee, do you?"

"He wears Tulpayotee's symbol around his neck. And his looks…"

"Yes, yes. We know what you think of his looks." He slapped the folded fan down into his other palm. "But do you believe he comes from Tulpayotee?"

"I, well…" Catching up a cushion, the Becan-tul looked beyond his companions to the priest. "Ooman, what do you think?"

Ooman Xhai sighed, the sound as different from the Becan-tul's earlier exhalation as was possible. "I have seen him invoke the god at sunrise."

"Shut up, Gonzile. You're more of an idiot than your father was." The Campeche-tul glared the younger man's protest into irritated and unintelligible muttering then continued. "The most religious members of the high houses remain at court to be near the Tulparax and have, as a result, been there to receive power from the throne. Should you arrive with this golden stranger, you will appear to have been blessed by the gods."

"But will he cooperate?" The Campeche-tul raised his fan to forestall any response. "I ask only because men of power are not always predictable, and the gods never are."

"The gods," Tul Altun told him dryly, "are infinitely predictable. The sun rises, the sun sets. The moon waxes, the moon wanes. Have no fear, this warrior of Tulpayotee will cooperate. He's a stranger here, and he is
mine
."

"Yours?" When Tul Altun nodded, he fanned himself thoughtfully for a moment. "Then I also am yours," he said at last. "In the understanding that one so blessed by the gods and then by the state will bless others in turn."

"To what extent?"

"Blessing enough so that I may have the Uxmal-xaan assassinated before the change. My niece cannot stand against her, and I will not see my house absorbed."

"Her heir?"

"A child. Seven, perhaps eight years old. Interhouse rivalry over regenting will keep them busy until my niece finds her strength."

"Agreed."

"Wait." The Becan-tul held up both hands. "I don't understand. Are we saying that this stranger is really and actually a warrior of Tulpayotee?"

"I'm saying that you should judge for yourself."

"If he
isn't
from Tulpayotee, who is he?"

"Physician, the tul said Benedikt must go out in the sun." Xhojee threw up both hands, walked across the room and back again. "Good weather doesn't last forever in this season; what more do you want?"

"I want him to survive the experience," Imixara told him tightly, turning Benedikt toward the light and peering into his eyes. "You're lucky I was here when he returned for you. And if you call me
physician
in that tone of voice again, I'll put so much laxative in your soup, you'll be shitting out your brains. Close your eyes."

"All right, then." She patted him on the shoulder. "You may wander about during the youth and the age of the day, but you are not, do you hear me, not to be out as Tulpayotee gains his manhood."

"I hear you." Early morning and late afternoon, Benedikt translated. Not at midday. They weren't hard terms to agree to as even the tiny lizards that hunted bugs on his terrace sought out shade at noon.

"He is now officially out of my care," Imixara told Xhojee as she passed. "Which makes him your responsibility." Pausing in the doorway, she threw a grin back at him. "I've brought you to the attention of the tul with a vengeance, haven't I? Your mother is pleased."

"My mamon will never have more than karjen because of that old woman," Xhojee muttered when the sound of the physician's footsteps had faded. "She says she stays with her out of love. Can you believe it?"

Benedikt shrugged, trying and almost succeeding in not thinking of anything, or anyone, at all. "Love is confused."

"I think you mean confusing." He jerked his head toward the door. "Let's go before the tul finds out you've been stuck in here instead of out obeying his expressed desire."

They went to temple. An acolyte burnished the images of the god on the altar, but otherwise they had the place to themselves.

"You can see a lot from up here," Xhojee panted as they climbed the last few steps.

In the full light of day, the house was resplendent with both colored tiles and paint. One hand shading his eyes, Benedikt doubted he faced so much as a handspan ofundecorated wall. Down at the far end of the huge building, three tiny figures worked on what had to be perpetual upkeep.

"There should be a team responsible for each side," Xhojee said, following the direction of Benedikt's gaze. "I was almost apprenticed to one of the plasterers. Good thing I turned out to be quick with numbers."