Chapter 1 #4
As they made their way off the cracked platform to the shore, one of the pilots called out, “Are you him?”
So much for his disguise. Kai stepped to the offering slab and picked up a couple of figs. He tossed one to Sanja before he turned to regard the pilots, head tilted in inquiry.
One made a quick respectful salute, looking away. The other said, “My grandmothers were at Saisun Breach.” She nodded, and pushed the boat away from the platform.
Kai watched the pilots guide their boat back into the current. She hadn’t said what side her grandmothers had been on, but it didn’t matter much now. Kai took Sanja’s hand to lead her through the makeshift gate in the wall.
Past the earthwork, there was a field of more rubble, broken down until it was no more than knee-high at best. Kai took the path through, its twists and turns invoking various local spirits to discourage anyone susceptible to their mild influence. Anyone who wasn’t a Witch.
At the end of the path was a set of broad steps leading up to the foundation of a large building.
Atop it now stood nothing but a few weathered pillars, the remains of a once grand colonnade, all in ruins now.
But the archways built into the foundation, bracketing the stairway, were open into dark passages that led inside.
Kai felt the little spirits in the rubble plucking at his coat and skirt.
Sanja twitched a little and brushed a hand over her hair, as if something had tugged on it.
To distract her, he said, “To make this place, the Hierarchs tore down a very old hospital that was here, the first one in the city, and a school that Bashasa’s father had built.
Anyone could go there to learn how to draw and paint and do carving. ”
And it was where artworks were exhibited for all the world to see, anyone in the Arik or outside it, no matter their station, Bashasa had said, one late night huddled beside a banked fire, waiting for the right moment to start an attack.
All that work, done by so many hands, over so many years, all broken to dust and kindling, or stolen for their servant-nobles’ pleasure.
Kai finished, “So when we killed the Hierarchs, the people of Benais-arik destroyed this place, and gave it to the Witches for their own.” I want them to dance in it, Bashasa had said, to grind the Hierarchs’ finery under their heels.
“Bashasa is the one who was your friend, right?” Sanja said as they climbed the steps toward the leftward passage. “The one Ramad kept asking all the questions about?”
“That’s right.” Ramad hadn’t seemed to realize just how much Sanja had eavesdropped.
She said, “Anything you say about him, I won’t tell anyone.”
It struck Kai so hard that he stopped in his tracks and stared down at her. She looked up at him, her face solemn. He squeezed her hand, and they walked on.
Once they passed under the arch into the cool gloom of the passage, the spirits’ invisible hands fell away.
Guttering candles made of bayberry and palm oil were stuffed into various niches to light the way, dancing shadows over the tile of the barrel-vaulted ceiling high overhead.
Kai threaded their way through the passage, past a set of arched doorways that led deeper inside.
It was quiet, but it was the hush of listening, not the silence of an uninhabited place. His return hadn’t gone unremarked.
They came to a chamber where wide steps led up past pillars where the carvings had been methodically bashed away, then to a long, high-ceilinged space.
It had been a private audience room, mostly used for rewarding or punishing the Hierarch servants who had been given control of Benais-arik.
Half columns lined the walls and on the north side were floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the earthwork and the canal.
Even though the louvers were open, there were only a few dead leaves and some windblown dust in the corners, which meant someone had been taking care of these rooms. Probably the Cloister Witches who lived here year round.
The cool air carried nothing except the scent of wet earth and sun-warmed grass and trees.
The gray stone paving the floor had held up well and was only a little cracked, and the blue glass inlay in the wall tile was still bright.
All the gold and inlaid jewels and the murals on the coffered ceiling had been scraped out when the Hierarchs had been driven away, leaving hollowed-out sockets and raw stone.
At the far end, there was a dais with three broad steps, where the Hierarch or their servant-nobles would have stood to pass judgement.
Kai walked up the steps and through the archway beyond, into the smaller anterooms that led into the rest of the suite.
The wooden panels were still closed over the windows back here and it was darker and dustier.
Sanja trailed after him, asking dubiously, “You used to live here?”
Kai stopped in the large retiring room and started to wrestle the creaky shutters open, dislodging spider webs, lizards, and some angry beetles.
There was a dais here too at the back, supporting a wide curved bench carved out of stone, all the inlay and carvings bashed off it.
He told Sanja, “For a while. And we’ve been back off and on.
” As he got the windows uncovered, light and a fresh breeze flooded the room, illuminating the faded mural on the far wall.
It had once shown the Hierarchs bringing the gifts of civilization to the primitive north, which was a fairly standard subject for the places the Hierarchs had built for their servant-nobles to rule from.
By the time Kai and the others had first seen this one, someone had scratched off the Hierarchs’ heads and daubed red paint around their necks.
Dahin had called it “bringing the historical record up to date.” Kai added, “It was meant as a summer residence and it’s not especially comfortable in the rainy seasons. ”
“Is that why you live somewhere else now?” Sanja pushed a broken floor tile back into place with her sandaled foot.
The wooden chests they had left behind were still sealed, stacked back against the mural wall so any rain that got through the shutters wouldn’t reach them.
Two large squat metal braisers stood on either side of the room, the preferred Arike method for heating during the cooler months, both empty and swept clean.
Kai started to say yes, then he thought of what Sanja had said earlier, and about confidences. He said, “Bashasa died, and I didn’t want to live in this city anymore.”
Sanja glanced up at him, then nodded matter-of-factly.
They wandered through the rest of the suite, and Kai opened more shutters.
Leaving Sanja pulling on the pump lever in the bathing room to chase the ants out of the basins and drains, Kai went back to the carved chests in the retiring room.
They were actually Immortal Blessed preservation chests, abstract sun symbols carved around the rims inset with flaked gold.
When Kai broke the seals and opened them, the decades-old orchid petals scattered on the top layer released a breath of clean fragrance.
Inside were rolled blankets and rugs, cushions, copper pans and two kettles, a drinking set, some heavily embroidered silk coats and other clothing, a lot of stray jewelry, some bags of old coins, Benais-arik tokens, bundles of old maps and bound books, carefully wrapped bath powders, and a small carved box of tiny jars and vials for makeup and oils.
Ziede would be pleased to see that; she might not have any idea it had been left here.
He reached for her pearl lightly, just to check on her, and got a sense of a shaded spot somewhere out in the plaza to one side of the Rising World Assembly, near a vendor selling fruit water flavored with sugarcane and spices.
Ziede was distracted, probably listening to the council meeting through Tahren’s pearl. Hopefully she and Tenes wouldn’t have to wait long. Knowing Tahren’s current mood, perhaps she would say what she had to say, then just walk out, leaving Saadrin to answer any questions.
Kai opened the bag of tokens and sifted through it.
Each one was a memory, and some were almost smooth, worn down by their years, just like he was.
A light patter of footsteps sounded from the audience room and Kai dropped the bag back into the chest and pushed silently to his feet.
By the time he reached the archway, several Cloister Witches, veiled and wearing an eclectic mix of colorful clothing, gathered in the room.
On the dais they had left two clay pots with lids, a ceramic jug, and a basket of palm fruit and water apples.
As Kai leaned down to examine these offerings, the package that Dahin had jammed into his hem pocket thumped his knee, reminding him it was there.
One pot held lentils with what smelled like turmeric, garlic, and onion and the other was a bean porridge with fried peppers scattered on top.
The jug held saffron-spiced goatmilk. He called, “Sanja, come and eat.”