Dragons on the Sea of Night (20 page)

A heavy cedar door opened inward and Sardonyx said, ‘Bes-abas, is that you? I have returned.'

‘Child!' A large turbaned woman with great red cheeks and frizzy strands of black hair flying free stepped out of the doorway, her arms open wide. She embraced Sardonyx with whole-hearted delight. ‘Husband was right. The prodigal has returned at last!'

Sardonyx kissed her cheeks with tenderness. ‘Sadder and wiser, as he no doubt foresaw.'

‘Come in, come in!' Bes-abas said as Sardonyx introduced Moichi. ‘No doubt you both are famished from your long journey.'

The interior was dark, candle-lit, blessedly cool. The atmosphere was thick with the smells and humidity of boiling stew and vegetables. This moisture, Moichi soon saw, suited well the myriad small plants, flowers and ferns set in beautifully wrought metal and ceramic pots throughout the house. In the steaming kitchen, three burly women were at work. All stopped to hug Sardonyx in turn and ask her a non-stop flow of questions: Where had she gone? How far had she traveled? What sights had she seen? What adventures? Did men in faraway lands have different sexual proclivities? All eyes were on Moichi as the last question was asked. But before Sardonyx could answer, Bes-abas shooed them back to work.

She brought back plates piled high with food, and metal steins filled with a fizzy alcoholic beverage that was thick, thirst-quenching and delicious.

‘You have a large kitchen staff here,' Moichi said. He saw Bes-abas give Sardonyx a quick glance.

‘Those women aren't staff,' Sardonyx told him. ‘They are Vato-mandry's other wives.'

‘Other wives?' he said, dumbfounded.

‘Precisely,' Bes-abas said, urging them on to eat and drink their fill. ‘I am First Wife. These others – my sisters now in this family – well, Vato-mandry must produce progeny.'

‘For the members of the Fianarantsoa it is a sacred duty,' Sardonyx explained.

Moichi thought of a horrifying possibility. ‘So if you were to become the first female member of the Fianarantsoa …'

‘I would be required to have many husbands,' she said with a twinkle in her eye, ‘to ensure I bore many children.'

Seeing the expression on his face Bes-abas laughed until the tears came to her eyes. Then she slapped her thighs and, leaning over Moichi, kissed him hard on both cheeks. ‘You are a good boy,' she said with obvious pleasure. ‘I am glad Sardonyx brought you here.' Then she stood up. She had made no mention of Sardonyx's scar; even her eyes had not betrayed her. ‘I will tell Husband that you are here.' She smiled at them both. ‘Though I have little doubt he already knows. He awoke earlier than usual, at dawn, already restless and glancing out the window over the ramparts and into the Mu'ad.'

They finished their food, washed it down with the last of the drink. Moichi looked at Sardonyx, who seemed nervous. He could well understand how she might be. More than anyone else, perhaps, this one man had helped shape her life. And he would not blame her if she felt conflicted toward Vato-mandry. If the Catechist had not himself visited ills on her, then he had been their facilitator. He had been so certain of her ultimate fate that he had allowed – encouraged, even – the worst scars of life to settle upon her flesh like carrion birds. He had done her no good service that Moichi could see, and so he was not disposed to liking this old mystic.

The man who eventually arrived down a staircase of polished ebony was not at all what Moichi had expected. If he was a man of extreme age, only his long gray beard and his lined face disclosed it. Otherwise, he was as straight-backed and nimble-limbed as any young man Moichi had come across.

‘So, little sister, I see life has caught you by the throat,' he said from the foot of the stairs.

‘Caught me and shaken me,' Sardonyx said. ‘But I still have all my teeth.'

He had soft brown eyes, a hawk-like nose, cheeks sunken by a lack of body fat rather than age. He had the look of an outdoorsman rather than that of a philosopher; the squint lines at the corners of his eyes were the result of practical experience rather than chronically poor light. He wore a long, fur-trimmed robe and a tanned leather brimless hat, like all the Fianarantsoa, that hugged his skull. And he was so tall he was obliged to duck his head while navigating certain areas of the house.

He grinned, showing enormous square white teeth. ‘Yes,' he said in his deep commanding voice, ‘it is good to see you.'

‘This is Moichi Annai-Nin, Reverend Father,' Sardonyx said, taking Moichi's hand.

‘So,' Vato-mandry said with an enigmatic look, ‘you have found him.'

‘You know of me?' Moichi said.

‘Who has not heard tales of the Kai-feng?' He regarded Moichi for a long time before returning his attention to Sardonyx. ‘It is as I hoped, little sister, when I set you on your path outside Mas'jahan. God has tested you; He has prepared you for what is to come. You have proven my vision; you are, indeed, His handmaiden.' He stretched out a long arm. ‘Now, come upstairs into my study. There must be no delay. Our very existence depends upon you both.'

The steps were like glass and made no sound as the three of them ascended to the top floor of Vato-mandry's house. The Catechist's study overlooked the Mountain Sin'hai and the swirling clouds that shrouded its summit. Moichi had never been so close to the sacred mountain, and the feelings engendered in him were more ambivalent than he had imagined. The God of the Iskamen was known for His fearful temper and for His code of revenge. And even those He loved He sorely tested in the crucible of life.

The study was a bright, circular room, unique in a citadel of squares and rectangles. It had white stucco walls covered with shelves of glassy petrified wood, streaked with green and carmine. These shelves were filled with scrolls, books and manuscripts, some, Moichi saw, unfinished. One such lay open upon the large desk carved from a single block of onyx. The stone floor was covered with a rug of Catechist manufacture. Primitive colors swirled and danced in eerily accurate representation of the dervish.

All of these things were quite fantastic, but they faded from Moichi's consciousness a moment after he stepped into the room because his attention was riveted on the tall dark man standing in the center of the study. He turned as they entered and his liquid brown eyes fixed on Moichi's.

Smiling without warmth, he held open his arms and said, ‘Brother.'

‘Hamaan!'

Hamaan nodded. ‘A little older, a little wiser, but the same.' He opened his arms wider. ‘Are you too long away from Iskael to greet your brother in the traditional manner?'

Moichi stepped forward, was embraced by his brother, and embraced him in turn. Then they both stepped back as if an unpleasant shock had gone through them.

‘Apparently, Vato-mandry was expecting you,' Hamaan said. ‘But I was not.'

‘I returned to Ala'arat to find that Sanda had been murdered and the villa deserted save for a Fe'edjinn contingent led by a First Darman named Tamuk.'

‘A good man, Tamuk, loyal and brave,' Hamaan said. ‘I have been grooming him for advancement. He is here with you, I take it.'

‘He was killed in the Mu'ad, along with two of his men.'

‘I see.' Only a small twitch at the outer corner of Hamaan's left eye betrayed his emotionless facade. But then Moichi knew what to look for; he had seen that flicker before.

‘Were you ambushed by the Al Rafaar? These days they act as if they own the Mu'ad.'

‘We saw no Adenese. The desert itself did them in.' Moichi said, not wanting to get into the magical aspects of the Jailor.

‘And you survived. Along with the woman.'

‘That's right.' Moichi took the opportunity to introduce Sardonyx.

Hamaan, taking her hand, said, ‘I am used to meeting my brother's women,' in his most ungracious manner. To Moichi, he said, ‘Well, brother, your record is intact. One way or the other you always manage to survive.'

‘I think we should all sit,' Vato-mandry said, coming between them in order to defuse the tension. He poured them all Vash't, the deep yellow liquor of the Catechists. He turned to Moichi. ‘Your brother has had quite a shock. Tamuk was like a brother to him. I am certain you understand.'

Moichi gazed at the Catechist with interest. Implicit in what he said was his knowledge of the difficulties these two brothers were struggling with. Just how much did he know of the Annai-Nin history? Moichi wondered.

Hamaan, who had tossed off his drink in one fiery swallow, put aside his glass. ‘As Tamuk may have told you, I came here to bring Sanda's husband back for questioning in her murder.'

‘Yes. Tamuk told me Yesquz is a spice trader.'

Hamaan nodded. ‘That was as much as he knew – as much as we all knew. I have found Yesquz and I have discovered that along with the spices which are harvested on the lower slopes of the Mountain Sin'hai he is a dealer of the White Lotus.'

The atmosphere in the study abruptly became so thick one could choke on it.

‘I have heard of the White Lotus but I had assumed it only legend,' Sardonyx said. ‘I knew a man once who believed in its existence. He spent most of his life in a vain attempt at finding it.'

‘It exists, all right,' Hamaan affirmed.

‘The White Lotus is a powder of the Black Angel; a root with hellish properties,' Vato-mandry said. ‘The strength and stamina ingesting it provides is otherworldly. A man possesses the power of a hundred and, with it, the mind-set to do battle night and day until blood runs in the streets, fills the gutters and gluts even the thirsty desert. White Lotus is anathema to us, for a man who has tasted it but once will have no desire for the dervish with which we serve the Living God, and will turn his face from Zarathus's eye.

‘But White Lotus is treacherous in less spiritual ways, as well. It must be prepared correctly and ingested in the right dose, otherwise it proves fatal.' He, too, set his liquor aside, although he had failed to touch his. ‘Its flower is white and, indeed, lotus-like, hence its name. It floats upon the black waters of the Khashm, a form of fen found in only one place: Syrinx.'

‘But the Syrinxians are a dead race,' Moichi said. ‘If they once harvested the White Lotus, who would do it nowadays?'

‘The Khashm is an exceedingly dangerous place,' Vato-mandry said. ‘The Syrinxians never possessed the knowledge to navigate it, let alone to harvest its most well-protected flora. No, only a people indigenous to the Khashm would be able to do that.'

‘The Shinju?' Moichi said incredulously. ‘But we are speaking of a people extinct for millennia.'

‘It must be remarkable to have such absolute knowledge,' Hamaan said.

‘But it is common knowledge.' Moichi turned to Vato-mandry.

‘Exactly,' the Catechist said. ‘But is it the truth? This trader Yesquz was in possession of White Lotus, properly harvested and correctly dosaged. This fact alone would tend to refute the common knowledge.'

‘The Shinju, alive?' Moichi turned this over in his mind. ‘It would be a fantastic discovery, if it were true.' He looked at his brother. ‘What will you do with Yesquz?'

‘Use him to lead us to his source,' Hamaan said. ‘It is imperative we wrest control of the White Lotus trade from the Adenese.'

‘The Adenese?'

Hamaan nodded soberly. ‘My sources tell me that Al Rafaar has obtained from the Shinju the ultimate weapon. Can you imagine those fanatics stoked on the root? They would overrun Iskael in a fortnight, slaughtering us all.'

‘Do you condone this?' Moichi asked Vato-mandry. ‘I thought the Catechists were neutralists.'

‘Indeed we are,' Vato-mandry said. ‘Hamaan has pledged to hand over the White Lotus to us to destroy.'

Moichi looked at the Catechist for some time. Was he naive enough to believe that Hamaan, a fanatic himself, a warrior, would ever hand over such a military advantage to a third party? Perhaps so. But Moichi was not fooled. He knew what his brother had in mind: the way to ensure an Iskamen victory in its full-scale assault on Aden. There was no doubt that White Lotus in sufficient quantities would tip the balance of power in the Mu'ad. The destruction of the Adenese was all that Hamaan lived for. And now that Iskael was primed for war he saw a way to ensure its victory.

‘My only regret,' Hamaan was saying now, ‘was that I am convinced that Yesquz did not kill Sanda. Her murderer is still unknown.'

‘I know who it is,' Moichi said. ‘I have encountered it in Ala'arat, where it killed my first mate. I have tracked it across the Mu'ad, and now its spoor tells me it is here in Mas'jahan.'

At Moichi's first words, Hamaan had jumped up. ‘You know? Then tell me. Tell me, by the God of our fathers, so that I may have my revenge!'

‘You said “it”,' Vato-mandry astutely pointed out. ‘Not “he” or “she.”'

‘That's right,' Moichi told them. ‘Sanda was ravaged by a Makkon, a Chaos beast.'

Moichi was looking at Vato-mandry when he mentioned the Makkon, and he saw to his astonishment that the Catechist's face went pale. He tugged at his beard and his eyes turned inward.

‘Vato-mandry?' Sardonyx said. She, too, was aware of his distress.

Only Hamaan, rage spewing out of him, was oblivious. ‘Tell me!' he cried. ‘Chill take you, brother!'

‘Keep still,' Moichi snapped.

‘Why here?' Vato-mandry was saying. ‘Why now?'

Down on one knee before the Catechist, Moichi said softly, ‘Vato-mandry, what do you know of the Makkon?'

‘The Chaos beast?' His eyes were still turned inward, veiled as they would have been at the height of the dervish. ‘The Makkon is loose, killing, and now it is here where the White Lotus is, the White Lotus harvested by the Shinju.'

‘There must be a connection,' Moichi said. ‘I encountered the Makkon at an after-hours bar on the waterfront. The place looked as if it had been ripped apart by a legion of berserkers.'