04c Dreams of Fire and Gods: Gods (10 page)

G
ONIM
had never been to Harleh. The first thing that struck him was how much darker it was than Worlen. Not dirtier, though the streets had about the same amount of trash and excrement—both animal and human—he expected to find in city streets. But literally darker. The high curved walls prevented daylight from illuminating the lowest level of the street, except perhaps at midday. Now even that light was denied the city dwellers, replaced by the bluish pall that hung over everything in the valley. The inner wall was five stories tall, with shops housed in the first story and residences in the two levels above that, with long staircases and narrow platforms providing access. Above the residence levels, the wall was flat and smooth to impede entry into the next ring, if anybody tried to climb it.

No shops or huts were built along the massive outer wall, but there were refugee tents and lean-tos snuggled up against it as far as the eye could see, stretching off in both directions from the main gate and following the wall until it curved around and disappeared behind the first inner wall. Gonim could see why refugees from Worlen were being kept out of the city—there were already thousands of them inside the walls, taking up every available inch of space.

Gonim walked along the cobblestone street, making his way through a nearly solid mass of people, his senses assailed by the smells of cooking meat and spices and ale, all mixed in with a pervasive undercurrent of sweat and excrement and the noise of the crowd reverberating off the walls. It was a very noisy city, compared to Worlen, because everything echoed as if inside a drum.

When he asked a seller of roast squab for the best route to the temple—buying one of the small, spitted birds in exchange for the information—he was told there was only one way. “Ye have t’ follow the road to th’ south, ’less ye want a tour o’ th’ whole city,” the old man told him with a sharp laugh. “South Gate’s th’ only way in. Then go east t’ East Gate, an’ north t’ North Gate. Long walk, but ye canna’ get lost!”

It
was
a long walk, even just to the South Gate in the inner wall, and the only carriages Gonim saw clearly belonged to wealthy citizens. But he munched his crunchy squab, liking the salty and sour apple tang of the seasoning, and made his way through the great circular avenue until he came to the gate. It was guarded as well, and these guards were apparently keeping the refugees from entering the inner part of the city.

“Are you a
caedan
?” one of the guards asked.

“A
tadu
.”

The guard waved his hand dismissively, as if the difference was trivial. “The temple will take you in?”

“Of course.”

“All right. You can go through.”

Gonim nodded, but before he entered, he asked, “Is the outer ring the first or the fourth ring?”

The guard he’d been talking to looked startled by the question, but his companion laughed. “Do you think the nobles in this city would stand for living in the fourth ring? Everything’s gotta be first for them. So their ring is number one, and the one furthest out is the fourth. Got it?”

“Yes, I see,” Gonim replied. That meant he was now entering the third ring. Since Unid’s sister lived in this ring, it made more sense for him to track her down now, before seeking out the temple, than to return later. He was tempted to ask the guards if they knew where he could find her but thought better of it. If they suspected he wasn’t going immediately to the temple, perhaps they’d be less likely to let him pass.

Instead, he smiled at them and entered the road, following it to the east. This ring looked much like the one he’d come from, though considerably less crowded and therefore a bit cleaner. Both sides of the street were lined with shops with apartments above them, and he ducked into one of these after he’d wandered out of sight of the guards. It turned out to be a tailor’s shop.

When he inquired about Döv, the tailor looked displeased. “Are you looking for a tunic or breeches, perhaps? That is what I sell.”

“I’m sorry. I really need to find this person, and I don’t know much about her, except that she lives in this ring and takes in laundry. Oh, and she was recently widowed and has three children.”

The man gave him a sour look but sighed and said, “Try four or five apartments down the road, on the inner wall, first level.”

“Thank you.”

He found her easily after that. He might have even found her without help, since her apartment had a sign on the door reading Döv—seamstress. But perhaps not, since by “first level,” the tailor had meant the first level of apartments above the ground level of shops. One had to look up to see it. Gonim climbed a stone staircase and made his way along a platform so narrow he couldn’t see how two people could pass each other without one falling off.

He knocked on the wooden door of Döv’s apartment, and a woman’s voice bade him enter. Gonim soon found himself in a small room, tidy but with very little space that wasn’t taken up by a wooden dress form and piles of neatly folded laundry, along with a tiny kitchen area in the back.

“Quiet down,” a woman said quietly to someone in a room off to one side. “Ma has a customer.”

She turned to him and smiled, smoothing down her dress as she approached. Döv, as he presumed this woman to be, was considerably younger than her sister, though her brown hair was showing some gray and there were lines around her eyes. She wasn’t a beautiful woman, perhaps, but handsome in her way. Her smile faltered a bit when she realized he was clergy and therefore unlikely to have much business to offer her. “What can I do for you, Father?”

Gonim bowed respectfully, seeing little point in correcting her misinterpretation of his status. “I’m afraid I am less a customer than a messenger—from your sister, Unid, and her husband.”

“Unid!” She clutched her hands together reflexively. “Has some harm come to them? I’ve heard stories about fires—”

“They are well,” he assured her, “but in need of assistance.” Quickly, he told of their flight from Worlen and the trouble they’d encountered at the West Gate. Döv looked a bit overwhelmed by all of it, and she wrung her hands as she glanced around her small living quarters, wondering no doubt where she would manage to find room for two more people.

“I’ve heard that passes are very expensive now,” she murmured, as if to herself. Then she seemed to recall she wasn’t alone. “I’m sorry. That isn’t your concern. I thank you for the kindness you’ve shown my family.” She moved to untie the purse she had at her waist. “Let me give you something for your trouble.”

“That isn’t necessary,” he said, holding up a hand in refusal. “Anything I’ve done was simply to repay the kindness your sister and her husband showed me. They fed me and allowed me to warm myself at their fire.”

She removed a couple copper coins from her purse regardless and stepped forward to press them into his palm. “Please.”

He accepted her coins, realizing it would be an insult to refuse, and then he wished her well and departed. Still, it bothered him, as he walked along that perilous platform and descended to the street, that there wasn’t more he could do to aid her and her family. Then, for the first time since his vision of the goddess, he heard Imen’s voice whispering in the back of his mind.
It seems such a small thing. And she has shown kindness to my servant. We shall aid them.

Gonim paused and smiled and then laughed aloud, as the love he felt for his goddess seemed to overflow the bounds of his heart. The gods did not often take an interest in the affairs of ordinary men. The needy were considered weak and undeserving. But Imen had witnessed the plight of this woman through his eyes and taken pity on her. He could ask for no greater reward for his service.

S
AEL
stepped out of the bath and reached for the towel that was hanging on a nearby stand. It felt odd, not having Jekh there, but he’d made the decision to avoid being naked in front of the young man. It was the only way he could continue to employ him. When he was dry, Sael slipped into the fine linen breeches he wore under his formal garments, and only then did he pull the cord to summon his valet.

Jekh helped him dress and then had breakfast brought up to Sael’s sitting room. The rest of the morning was spent on tedious administrative tasks that had moved up the ranks until they required his direct attention—allocations of food and other supplies to the refugees, the division of troops between the city and the boundary, the growing discontent among the
vönan
,
ömem
, and
caedan
within the city….

Not much could be done about the latter. He knew how miserable they were, now that they were cut off from the Eyes—he could feel it himself, like an aching cavity in the back of his mind, dull enough for him to function, yet always there. For many of the older
vönan
, it was far worse. And the
ömem
were cut off from the Sight that had guided them throughout their lives.

But to allow them to leave would mean announcing the reappearance of Gyishya to the rest of the kingdom—and to the gods. That would be disastrous. The daily attack on Worlen was mild by comparison to what the Stronni would do if they suspected the Taaweh had returned in full force and some of the humans were harboring them. No one in the kingdom would be safe from their wrath.

The secret wouldn’t keep forever, Sael knew. But he still hoped to hear that the Taaweh had some sort of plan in motion for a quick victory or… something… now that the Iinu Shavi had been returned to them. So for now, Harleh would wait and see what developed.

He had wanted to speak with Tanum, but it wasn’t until afternoon tea that he was able to find time alone with her. Fortunately, his father was busy with plans of his own. Jekh poured for them in the library, and Diven had ordered cream and jam brought to them from the kitchen.

It was difficult to broach the subject. Sael had spent so many years thinking of Tanum as something of a surrogate mother. She’d been married to Seffni, after all, who was nine years his elder. Seffni had never really acted his age—not around Sael. The two had had an easy familiarity that made them feel more like… well,
brothers
. Brothers roughly the same age. Tanum had reined them in when they were being too childish, good-naturedly reminding Seffni that the
dekan
shouldn’t be seen wrestling in the stables or playing pranks on the head butler. For fatherly advice, Sael had always turned to Master Geilin. But when he needed a mother’s comfort, he’d gone to Tanum.

Now he found himself in the uncomfortable position of being her superior. And she was doing exactly the type of thing she’d always told her husband to avoid.

“How is your training going?” Sael asked her, when they had tea in hand.

She smiled. “It’s delightful! After we finished practicing in the courtyard, Iinyo Geilin trotted us all down to the south garden to go skinny-dipping in the pond.”

Sael nearly choked on his tea, which could have been extremely painful, given how hot it was. He set the cup down on its saucer. “I see.”

“Oh, Sael, really!” Tanum chided him. “Nothing improper is going on.”

“The entire
thing
is improper!” Sael protested. “I’ve been fielding complaints from half the noble houses in Harleh! Doesn’t that concern you?”

“What do those old
ghet
have to complain about? It isn’t one of
their
wives being trained.”

“It’s the
wives
who are complaining,” Sael said. “What’s happened to you?”

“Nothing’s happened to me.”

“You used to be concerned with Seffni maintaining his dignity in public. And you would never have done anything yourself to bring scandal down upon our house.”

“Sael,” Tanum said gently, “whenever I reprimanded Seffni or you, it was always with my tongue firmly planted in my cheek. I adored Seffni’s playfulness, and I miss it more than I can say. I think he would have approved of what I’m doing. I’m aiding the city in a time of war.”

“You’re the highest-ranking noblewoman in the city, and you’re cavorting with stableboys and peasants.”

“Just as the highest-ranking
nobleman
in the city ‘cavorted’ with a peasant.”

It took Sael a moment to realize she was referring to him. “He’s no longer a peasant,” he said, feeling his cheeks flush with embarrassment.

Tanum gave him a sour look. “So I’ve heard. Perhaps you could release a proclamation claiming that all of Inyo Geilin’s apprentices—apart from myself—were kidnapped as children from noble families.” She put a fluttering hand to her breast and feigned distress. “Only now has the heart-wrenching story come to light.”

Sael winced at her scathing attempt at humor, despite the fact that it hadn’t been his idea to forge Koreh’s lineage. Besides, he knew Koreh would not have approved of him looking down his nose at the apprentices. He changed the subject to escape from the uncomfortable topic. “What is this title you’ve been using to refer to Master Geilin?”