Traitors' Gate (24 page)

“Even so, we can never know what lies inside a man's mind,” she said. “People can be bought, or coerced to act at another's command. And we never know until it's too late.”

“It's said the Guardians of old could know what secrets lay hidden inside a mind.” He scratched at his jaw thoughtfully. “Such Guardians would be valuable allies.”

“Until they saw into your thoughts! I haven't forgotten the ghost girl who took the form of Cornflower and killed those soldiers! When she looked at me, it was like she tore my heart out!”

“Demons are a different matter. They must be killed.” He touched Atani's coarse black hair. “Let's go outside. I'd like to look at the baby, where I can see him properly.”

The change in his voice stiffened her shoulders. He walked out, and she followed. The sun had risen high enough to flood the open area with its light. Only Qin soldiers remained in the clearing; Priya and Sheyshi had gone down with the others. Chief Tuvi hastened over as Mai lifted the baby out of the sling and presented him to his father with the words traditional in Kartu Town.

“Here is your son. Son of your seed, son of your blood, son of your bone. Let the ancestors favor him and strengthen him. Let him bring honor to your name.”

The baby's black eyes were open, and he stared gravely at his father, making no sound. Anji took him from Mai as Tuvi waited beside her. Anji's personal guards, Sengel and Toughid, and other senior soldiers filed up behind. Anji placed the baby
on a smooth stretch of wall and began to unwrap the swaddling. He glanced up at Mai, who felt unaccountably nervous. What if the baby was not perfect? He was so silent, rarely crying, often sleeping. He was so small! Tuvi set a hand on her shoulder, grasping firmly as if to hold her still.

“Mai,” Anji said. “I've news from the north. Shai is alive.”

Her legs gave way. She groped for a place to seat herself. As Anji laid bare the infant and examined him, head, genitals, torso, and limbs, she wept.

“A healthy boy,” said Chief Tuvi.

Only after all the senior men had admired the naked baby, nodded their agreement, and offered polite blessings to the mother did Tuvi remove his hand from her shoulder.

 

T
WENTY NOVICE REEVES
were detailed to fly her retinue out of the valley. They could have flown all the way to the settlement, but for the last mey of the journey, Anji insisted they mount well-groomed horses ornamented with ribbons and silver-studded harness and ride in ranks appropriate to the occasion.

It was how the Qin did things.

At the gates, they were greeted with song punctuated by rhythmic clapping, for that was what folk did in the Hundred.

Enter, enter, we welcome you.

That you walk here is like flowers blooming.

The Qin soldiers had prepared a feast surely offered only to a prince among the Qin. Vats full of sheep's-head soup bubbled over massive hearths. There was plenty of rice and nai, but also special wheat cakes made in squares, sweetened curds, and a fermented milk so strong it made your eyes water. Mai and Anji sat on pillows on the porch of their house with the baby displayed in a cot between them, festively decked out in a gold cap and a red sash. First the senior Qin soldiers—and their wives, if they had them—and then the middle rank of Qin soldiers—with their wives, if they had them—and finally the lowest rank of Qin soldiers and the tailmen and the grooms—with their wives, if they had them—approached the
porch and spoke rote greetings to the newborn and offered fealty to father and son and honored mother.

Afterward, the townsfolk brought the local customary gifts of nuts, fruits, and sweets.

“I feel a little uneasy,” Mai whispered as she leaned into Anji's shoulder, savoring the feel of the length of his arm along her own. “I remember how our last festival turned out.”

“We slaughtered every one of the red hounds who attacked the settlement that day.” Anji shifted away from her, not liking to touch in public.

“Surely there are red hounds—spies—in hiding.” Mai scanned the crowd, seeing only faces smiling with approval and excitement.

“We scoured the settlement.” From the porch of the captain's house at the crest of the hill, you could see down over the settlement, past the half-built wall, and all the way over the parade ground to the fan of darker earth where an underground channel, still being constructed, would bring rainwater down from the mountains. He indicated an untidy sprawl of tents and shacks raised away from the settlement on dry ground; it had grown up in the twenty-five days she had been away. “Now we admit through the gates only those who have a license for trade granted by the clerks of Sapasanu.”

“I'm not a coward, Anji. But you must admit it was frightening when the red hounds rode out of the wilderness like that. So many of them! I don't worry about myself so much. Well, maybe I do. It's natural to be scared after seeing such a thing. But—” She brushed a hand over the baby's cap. He had gone to sleep, his sweet face calm in repose. “This little one, I worry for.”

His gaze followed the stroke of her hand. “You can be sure I will not put my son at risk. Here is Mistress Behara.”

Behara's noodle business had flourished so greatly in the last six months that she had brought in a number of clan members to increase production. She presented a tray containing balls of sweetened rice paste, admired the baby, and addressed Mai.

“Verea, I am sent as a representative for the merchants in the town. Most of the women who live here today came to this place at your behest, hopeful to make a decent marriage or because you offered seed money for them to engage in a business of their own. While you bided here with us, you were accustomed to listen to those disputes that arose between various of our number and offer a judgment.”

“Were you?” asked Anji.

“I did listen when folk had grievances,” said Mai. “Usually, once folk talked things over, they sorted things out for themselves.”

The noodle maker sketched a gesture of respect toward Anji, prudent toward those carrying swords, but she turned back to Mai. “It's said you are returning to Olossi. Would you preside over an assizes tomorrow? There are several cases that have arisen that would benefit from your clear head, and all have agreed to respect your judgment. In addition, there is talk that perhaps Astafero—”

“Astafero?”

“That is what folk are calling the settlement now.” Behara sketched a phrase with her hands. “ ‘The shore burned,' the night those red hounds attacked. What I mean to say, verea, is that because it was your coin and the captain's victory that established this settlement, some say we must ask your permission before voting in a council to oversee the administration of the settlement.”

Mai glanced at Anji, but he opened his hands to say: This is not my purview.

After all, how could it be? Beyond the Hundred, west of the border of the Sirniakan Empire in the Mariha princedoms and along the Golden Road, Qin armies under the var ruled as conquerors, but Anji had been forced to flee into exile with two hundred soldiers, his wife, and their grooms and slaves.

Mai turned back to Behara, who had, by the flickering of her gaze, noted this silent exchange. “Every city and village in the Hundred has a council, does it not? Why should it be different here? An assizes tomorrow. We will convene at dawn.”

“The gods' blessings upon you and your child, verea. Captain.” Behara made her courtesies and retreated.

Behara, coming last, had brought the heaviest request. The celebration spilled down into town, where folk ate and drank and sang, as folk would do, given the opportunity. Anji nursed a wheat cake, having nibbled half of it, and drank cups of the harsh milk as his men called out praise for the child's beauty, his strength, and his quiet uncomplaining nature, seen as a sign of excellent character among the Qin. Mai devoured three balls of sweetened rice and a pair of wheat cakes and an entire bowl of nai.

“I expected to see Avisha,” she said, when the edge of hunger was dulled.

“Who is Avisha?” Anji shaded his eyes to survey the Qin soldiers sitting close by with swords at the ready, drinking deeply and eating well, laughing and talking with such open smiles and with such a clamor that she might have mistaken them for other people entirely, not the stolid Qin soldiers to whom she had grown accustomed. Some of the men with local wives had already gone down to join the celebration below.

Mai looked at Tuvi. He had stiffened slightly, maybe even blushing a little, remembering his ignoble defeat.

Anji saw Tuvi's expression and sighed. “Ah. The one who knew herbs and flowers.”

“She was not right for you, Chief Tuvi,” said Mai tartly. “You did not truly love her. You were only taken in by her pretty face. Beauty flies quickly.” She rapped his forearm with her closed fan. “You would have gotten bored of her.”

The chief relaxed. “I admit, I did not expect to be rebuked in such a manner. Refusing to eat my rice! But a man does get lonely. Perhaps you will choose for me, Mistress?”

Anji raised an eyebrow.

“I will keep my eyes open. For you, Tuvi-lo, someone special only.”

And it was true, she thought, as the chief chuckled with Anji, that Chief Tuvi had felt the rejection more than the loss. Tuvi had not loved or even particularly respected Avisha, who was a pleasant young woman Mai's own age and knowledgeable
about plants, as Anji had naturally recalled because he always remembered any fact that might be of possible use to him, but she was not a deep spirit, not like Mai's dear Miravia, who was lost to her now, trapped in a cage of her clan's making.

“What did become of the lass?” asked Anji. “I seem to recall . . . Jagi, wasn't it?”

Tuvi nodded, expression determinedly bland.

To have lost the girl to a mere tailman! How it must sting.

“Ah, yes, you recommended Jagi, Tuvi-lo, did you not?” Anji turned to Mai. “We have set up training camps in different parts of Olo'osson. We've assigned Qin troopers to stand as sergeants over companies drawn from local men. They've got to train fast and hard, become cohesive units. We don't know how soon we'll have to fight.”

“Jagi is good with the locals.” Wth a wry smile, Tuvi gestured toward the square of benches seen below that marked the spot where marriages were finalized. “He's patient with them. They like him. The troop of local lads he was training here consistently won in trials, so we sent him and his troop and his wife and the two children to Dast Welling. If all goes well, he'll be training an entire cohort.”

“That's a substantial responsibility,” said Mai. “I'm pleased for Avisha's sake.”

“You were fond of her?” Anji asked. “Women feel most comfortable with women around them. Maybe you are lonely for the company of other women?”

“I have Priya, of course.”

“Of course. She is an educated woman. A priestess of the Merciful One. You are fortunate to have such an exceptional woman in your household.”

“I am. She is the greatest comfort to me. But it is true—” Only Tuvi stood close enough to listen. Even Anji's two bodyguards, Sengel and Toughid, had relaxed enough to walk away out of earshot, although not eyeshot, to suck down ladles of fermented milk. “I miss my dear friend Miravia. Do you suppose you could talk to her father and uncles? You might be able to persuade them to allow me to visit her again. I have accepted she will never again be allowed to visit in our own
compound, after that terrible incident. After men not of her kin saw her face—”

His expression closed. “The Ri Amarah run their own houses by their own laws. We do not meddle with those who have treated us as guests and given us aid. That is all I have to say.”

She knew that look. She had grown up in the Mei clan, where Father Mei ruled all and must be consulted in all matters except the most trivial. It was what she had expected in her own marriage. But in matters of business and marriage, Anji had let go of the reins; she was in charge, and he never meddled because he assumed she knew what she was doing and that she would do what benefited them. It was a potent brew, going straight to the head like too much sweet cordial.

But there was a line, and on the other side of that line, he commanded.

As the baby gurgled, he smiled and lifted up Atani to dandle him. The matter was closed to him; he would not think of it any longer, but she had not that facility. She would think of Miravia and Miravia's troubles, and mourn the loss not of a friendship, for they could write one to another, but for the voice and smile and touch that had come to mean so much to her in so short a time. To lose the intimacy of their friendship was a grief so sharp it was like a wound.

“Mai?” His smile faded as he watched her.

She sealed her sorrow as in a cask and set it away beside her fear for Shai.
Alive
, Anji had said; not
coming home
.

“What other news?” she said, more brightly than she intended. “What of the reeves? Have you heard from Marshal Joss? Reeve Miyara told me he was called away to the north.”

Anji's eyes narrowed as if he were looking into the sun. He shifted the baby more firmly into his grasp. “From the north, the news is bad. Are you sure you wish to hear an accounting on such a pleasant day?”

“I do not wish to hide from the truth, if that's what you're asking.”

“Very well, then. The news from the north.”

J
OSS SHIFTED HIS
seat on his pillow in the audience room of the commander's cote in Argent Hall. He'd arrived midday from the north with his thoughts in a tumult at everything he must try to accomplish. Facing the senior fawkners, he began to doubt he could change a cursed thing.

“You want to name a fawkner to act as marshal over Argent Hall so you can go be commander at Clan Hall.” Askar rubbed his grizzled chin. He was missing two fingers on his right hand, but the injury never seemed to hamper his fawkner's work, or his strong opinions. “It can't work.”