The Silver Lake (25 page)

Oil lamps attached to the walls at each junction cast just enough light to see by and, as he padded down the shadowy corridor—retracing their earlier walk from the kitchens—he breathed in the damp, scented air that spilled in from the latticed windows high above. The moonlight was obscured by the last of Havo’s Dance, but it smelled very late. There shouldn’t be anyone about at this hour. He’d be safe.

Pausing to peer around the corner to the central corridor, he was distressed to see a single green-clad guard standing duty by the doors to the armory tower. He almost turned back, but Jaq thrust his head under his hand, and gathering up his courage, he took him by the collar. He was supposed to be here, he told himself firmly. Brax had said so. And he could go to Tanay to have his injury taken care of any time he needed to.
She
had said so. Taking a deep breath, he allowed Jaq to pull him into the corridor.

The guard cast him a curious but nonthreatening glance as they approached.

“Taking Jaq for his nightly pee, are you, Spar?” she asked.

He nodded, masking his surprise that she knew his name. He guessed news traveled as fast inside a temple as out.

“Well, don’t let him near the west wing conservatory,” she warned. “The head gardener say’s he’ll become a wall trophy if he marks another herb bed. You can let him out into any of the central courtyards. He’ll come back when he’s done.”

Spar’s eyes widened.

“Oh, you needn’t worry about Havo’s Dance,” she laughed. “For some reason the great scruffy mutt’s beloved of the Gods. All of them. He just weaves in and out of the rain drops.” Her voice hushed. “And those spirits you brought word of wouldn’t dare touch him either. Not here behind Estavia’s walls. He’ll be fine.”

Nodding dubiously, Spar allowed Jaq to pull him past the guard. His shoulder muscles tensed as he turned his back on her, but they made the small wooden door he and Brax had entered through earlier without incident and he took a deep, calming breath as he pulled it open a crack. The dog slipped through and he risked one quick glance outside.

The courtyard beyond the gallery was pitch-dark, but his imagination added the hint of sharp-clawed mist pooling about on the ground ready to rise up and attack them. He stood frozen, suddenly unable to breathe except in short, shallow breaths. The image of a great tower rose up in his mind, then Jaq glanced back with a faint whine and deliberately lifted his leg against the gallery wall. Both the mist and the tower disappeared, and Spar grinned in embarrassed relief. When the dog returned inside, looking smug, the two of them continued on in a lighter mood.

The kitchens were quiet and still, empty of the bustling crowds of pot-banging cooks and scrubbers when they peered through the door a few moments later. For an instant he was afraid that Tanay had left as well, and then he saw her sitting by the brass counting room mangel, a steaming ceramic cup in one hand and her feet propped up on a cushion. When Jaq shoved his way through the door, she glanced over at the small bit of him she could see around the dog.

“Well, you cleaned up well,” she noted. “Come in.”

The salve was as soothing as before, her touch as gentle. Seated on the largest cutting board he’d ever seen, he glanced around the empty kitchens with a questioning look as she resealed the jar.

“It’s past midnight, Delin,” she replied. “Everyone’s gone to their beds.” Dribbling a few drops of an aromatic oil he didn’t recognize into a bowl of warm water, she began to bathe the scratches across his cheeks and neck with a soft cloth. “Ordinarily I’d be gone myself, but tomorrow’s market day and it’s the only time I have to sit and plan the week in peace. Oh, yes, and there’s that meeting in midafternoon as well; I’ll need to bring some seed cakes,” she added to herself. “Jaq, sit!” Turning, she glared at the dog who’d been pacing around the table, whining, and pointed sternly at the mangel. He flopped down before it with a reproachful sigh and she chuckled. “He’s become very protective of you,” she noted.

Spar gave a half nod, half shrug of studied indifference, but the faintest of smiles worked its way past his usual reticent expression, pleased that she’d noticed.

“You can have him back in a moment,” she said over her shoulder. “There, that should just about do it.” Wringing out the cloth, she set it and the bowl aside. “Now, I’m going to finish my tea. If you’d like to join me, there’s a cup on the shelf there and the pot’s beside you.”

Without hesitation, he nodded.

The tea was warm, sweet, and smelled of cinnamon. It made him feel safe and sleepy. Seated where he could see both Tanay and the mangel, he leaned against Jaq’s flank, feet tucked into the bottom of the nightshirt, and stared fuzzily into the fire. The crackle of bright flames on walnut wood chips spoke louder than the whisper of oil lamps, but the words were the same; and just as unwelcome. Looking away, he found himself meeting Tanay’s warm, gray eyes.

“You’re awfully young to be thinking so deeply,” she observed. “Age will bring about its share of decisions, you know; you don’t have to make any of them now.”

He frowned. Beside him, Jaq flicked an ear at a stray fly and he watched it buzz its way to the cutting board, seeking some tiny crumb left behind by the kitchen staff. When he turned back, Tanay was still gazing at him and he waved one hand about him impatiently.

“What of it?” she answered shrewdly. “You’re nine years old. No one holds a nine-year-old to a decision made by a fourteen-year-old.”

His eyes widened and now it was her turn to give him an impatient look.

“Kemal told me. Brax made his choice for his own reasons a full two years before the traditional age to do so. He may be old enough to know what that decision means, but you aren’t. And it hardly matters,” she added, ignoring his indignant expression. “Brax will be given,the opportunity to take his final vows at sixteen, regardless of what he may have sworn two nights ago, and until then, he’s free to change his mind without any argument from the Gods. And so are you.” Her gaze softened. “Try to stay young for as long as you can, Spar. You’ll never get another chance.”

He rolled his eyes at her, but his cynical expression softened as he stood.

“Come back and see me again if you like,” she offered as Jaq led him to the door.

He nodded briefly.

“Good night, Spar.”

Pausing at the door, he glanced back at her, then smiled shyly. “Good night, Tanay.” Fingers entwined in Jaq’s collar, he slipped through the door, closing it quietly behind him.

Across the city and beyond its walls, Havo’s Third and final Night of storms raged on, but the God of the Seasons was already returning to Gol-Beyaz, smacking at a few chimney pots for good measure, just as the spirits of the Berbat-Dunya were returning to their rocks and crevices on the plains. By morning there would be nothing more than a few broken roof tiles and fallen tree limbs to mark the beginning of High Spring.

At Incasa-Sarayi, Bessic, the God of Prophecy’s new First Oracle, received a fleeting glimpse of a tower perched above a dark, storm-tossed sea, illuminated by a figure of shining light and power, before it was shrouded in mist once more. At Oristo-Sarayi, Senior Abayos-Priest Neclan rose early to prepare a platter of seed cakes for her chamberlains—she liked to keep a hand in the kitchens now and then—while, at Estavia-Sarayi, those who’d brought the God of Battle forth slept deeply, including the two boys who might make or break their future.

Meanwhile, deep beneath the waters of Gol-Beyaz, the God of Prophecy tossed his silvery dice from hand to hand with a thoughtful expression, then closed His own snow-white eyes. The spirits had been pressed into a new form that could be molded to His design as they had been five times before and two of the candidates who would safeguard Its passage to maturity or to death had been safely tucked inside Estavia’s temple. All He had to do now was to wait patiently while the third nursed the new consciousness into a more physical awareness. Everything was in place.