Slaves of the Mastery (17 page)

‘I think I’m here for a reason, pa. I think there’s something I’m to do.’

‘We’re all here for a reason, Bo. We must watch, and wait for our moment.’

As the others departed for their day’s work, Bowman went to his bed, in the many-bedded room. Mist followed him silently, almost unnoticed, and lay down under the bed. Here, as Bowman
slipped into sleep, when he was least expecting it, he caught the tremor he had strained for night after night: the sound too distant to hear, the movement too distant to see, the passing of a
shadow in the dark –

Kess
!

So faint that even thinking the thought made too much noise. Now it was gone again. But it had been his sister, he was sure of it.

She was coming.

K
estrel was lying in her narrow cot bed in the Johdila’s carriage when she felt that brief tremor of contact. She made herself as still as
she could in the lumbering creaking vehicle, but it did not come again. When finally she relaxed her intense concentration, she found that Sisi was speaking to her from her nearby bed, just a few
feet away in the shadows of the curtained carriage.

‘Why don’t you answer, Kess? Are you angry with me?’

‘No, no. I was thinking about my brother.’

‘Oh, your brother. You’re always thinking about him.’

‘You’d like him too, if you knew him.’

‘I don’t expect I would,’ said Sisi sulkily. ‘I don’t really like anybody, except Lunki, who doesn’t count. And you.’

But as she said this, a new thought came to her.

‘Is your brother like you?’

‘I don’t know that he’s like me. It’s more as if he’s half of me.’

‘Is he the same height as you?’

‘A little taller.’

‘And what else?’

‘What do you want to know?’

‘Well, what colour is his hair?’

‘He’s dark, like me. And a pale face. He’s quiet. He often looks sad. He can feel what other people are feeling, just by looking at them.’

‘Does he have someone he wants to marry?’

‘No, I don’t think so. He’s quite a lonely person.’

‘Like me,’ said Sisi.

She lay in her deep downy bed, and as she was rocked by the steady motion of the carriage, she let her new thought blossom within her. Kestrel was her only friend, the only one outside her
family she had ever loved. Bowman was just like Kestrel, only he was a man. Why should she not love him?

‘I think I shall marry your brother,’ she announced shortly.

Kestrel laughed aloud.

‘Don’t you think you should ask him first?’

‘Why? He’s bound to want to marry me. Because I’m so beautiful.’

‘Oh, Sisi. You’re so – so –’

‘So what?’

‘So uncomplicated. I don’t know how else to say it.’

‘Do you mean I’m stupid?’

‘No, not stupid. Only, there’s so much you don’t understand.’

‘Mama told me men want to marry women who are beautiful. She said it doesn’t matter if you’re stupid, so long as you’re beautiful.’

‘Bowman’s not like most other men.’

‘You mean he doesn’t want a beautiful wife?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Then what’s the point of being beautiful?’ She gave a little scream, out of anger at all the wasted effort. Kestrel said nothing, so she screamed again.

‘Stop it!’ said Kestrel. ‘You’re not to scream over such nonsense. Screaming’s for when you’re hurt.’

‘All right, Kess. Don’t be cross with me, or I’ll – no I won’t.’

‘And anyway, you can’t marry my brother. You’re going to marry this other person. Whoever he is.’

‘No, I’m not.’

‘You said you have to.’

‘You said you wouldn’t if you were me.’

‘I’m not you.’

‘Oh, Kess, how I wish you were! Then I could be you. You are going to dance for me, you know. You’ve already started being me, just a little. And think how much you’d like
being so beautiful.’

‘I shouldn’t,’ said Kestrel.

‘Why not?’

‘Because I’d rather be me.’

‘But what if you were you and beautiful?’

‘I couldn’t be,’ said Kestrel. ‘If I was very beautiful, I’d stop being me. Or at least, people would see my beauty and wouldn’t see me.’

‘What an odd idea. That’s not how it is at all.’

They fell silent. The Johdila had been told how beautiful she was so often she found it difficult to imagine herself apart from her beauty. But one day soon a man would see her unveiled. What
would he think? She wanted him to see her beauty, but she wanted him to see her, too.

‘Oh, Kess, darling,’ she sighed. ‘How hard it all is.’

Later that day, the Johdila was summoned to her father’s carriage, where she was to be instructed by her mother on the ceremony of marriage. This gave Kestrel the
opportunity she needed to speak with the Commander of the Johjan Guards.

She found Zohon drilling his men. He was standing on a set of steps he had had made for the purpose, which raised him high enough to oversee the entire formation, watching as his officers issued
the drill commands in a series of staccato barks.

‘Wheel! Merge! Cross under!’

Kestrel waited to one side, and also watched. The long lines of men in their deep purple uniforms created intricate patterns that flowed in and out of each other, as if, ceasing to be
individuals, they had become one vast pulsing organism. Zohon had forged his men into a superb fighting machine, and Kestrel rejoiced to see it. Already as her plan matured in her mind she thought
of the Johjan Guards as her army, the force that would set her people free.

Zohon saw her at last. Impatient to learn her news, he signed to his officers to bring the elaborate drill to an end.

‘Turn! Face! Salute!’

The troops saluted their commander.

‘Dismiss!’

Zohon strolled over to his campaign tent, paying no attention to Kestrel. She let a few moments pass, and then followed.

As soon as they were alone together, Zohon fixed her with his burning eyes.

‘Well? Have you spoken to her?’

‘Yes,’ said Kestrel.

‘And?’

Kestrel lowered her voice. ‘The Johdila is very afraid.’

‘Afraid! Go on.’

‘She’s afraid of this country called the Mastery. She’s afraid of disobeying her father. She’s afraid of failing her people.’

‘Of course she is. They ask too much of her.’

‘She believes she must do her duty, even though . . .’

‘Even though her heart isn’t in this marriage?’ Zohon was eager to learn his instincts were right.

‘It isn’t,’ said Kestrel.

‘And me? You spoke to her of me?’

‘I was very careful. I slipped your name into the conversation.’

‘And what did she say?’

‘Nothing. Her eyes looked down. She was silent.’

‘She looked down. She was silent.’ Zohon strode up and down the tented space, pondering this information. ‘She looked down. She was silent. What does it mean? I’ll tell
you what it means. She dared not look, or speak. And why not? Because of the strength of her feelings! Yes, count on it, she did not trust herself even to speak my name!’

Excited by this conclusion, he turned back to Kestrel to instruct her on the next phase of his plan.

‘You’re to say to the Johdila that you’ve spoken to me. You’re to say that I will save her from this marriage. But I must know her heart. You understand?’

‘Yes,’ said Kestrel.

‘Let her send me a message, through you. Then I will know what to do.’

‘Very well.’

‘Now go! I have matters to attend to. Fortune favours the bold!’

Meanwhile the Johdi was rehearsing her daughter in the wedding ceremony. It was many years since she had performed the five steps herself, but she remembered every moment
vividly.

‘My mother cried all through my wedding day. I shall cry, I know it. Now, the most important thing to remember is to keep the steps small. Like this.’

The Johdi shuffled forward, one small step.

‘Remember, every time you step forward, he steps forward. You don’t want to bump into him. I’ve known weddings where they never had room for the fifth step. And you know what
that means.’

‘No, mama. What does it mean?’

‘One of you will die ten years before the other. Each step stands for ten years together. So let’s practise. I’ll be the man.’

They stood facing each other at opposite ends of the main saloon of the royal carriage.

‘Hands clasped. Look down.’ Sisi did as she was told. ‘He moves, then you move. There. Now you.’

Sisi stepped forward.

‘Pause. There’ll be music. Don’t look up until after the third step.’

‘Why am I not to look up?’

‘In the early years, a good wife is ruled by her husband.’

‘But you’re not ruled by papa.’

‘Only in the early years, darling. Now I step. And off you go again.’

Sisi stepped forward.

‘Before you were married, mama, did you want to be married to papa?’

‘Of course I did, darling. He was the son of the Johanna of Gang. The old Johanna, that is.’

‘But did you love him?’

‘Now the third step. How could I possibly love him, dear? You can’t love a man if you’ve never so much as said good morning to him.’

‘What if you hadn’t liked him?’

‘Fourth step. Keep it small.’

Sisi stepped forward.

‘Now look up. Keep your head up from now on.’

Sisi looked up at her mother. She was close now.

‘I chose to like him. As you will do. Fifth step.’

The Johdi stepped forward, and Sisi followed. Now they were close enough to touch. Her mother parted her plump hands and declared,

‘With these five steps, I stand before you as your husband. Do you receive me as my wife?’

‘And all I say is, yes?’

‘You say yes, my darling. And you’re a wife.’

Sisi felt a great sadness come over her. Not wanting her mother to see, she put her arms round her and buried her face in the Johdi’s ample bosom.

‘There, my sweet one. There, there.’

‘Mama,’ said Sisi after a moment. ‘Have you been happy, married to papa?’

The Johdi sighed.

‘I know no other life,’ she said. ‘He’s a good man. Who’s to say it would have been any better with anyone else?’

When Sisi was alone with Kestrel in their carriage that night, in the soft secret time between going to bed and falling asleep, she listened for Lunki’s soft regular
snores, and then spoke to her friend.

‘Kess, darling. Are you awake?’

‘Yes.’

‘I was wondering. Have you ever wanted to run away from everyone and everything, and be a quite different person?’

‘Yes,’ said Kestrel. ‘Often and often.’

‘But you didn’t ever do it?’

‘I ran away once. But I didn’t become a different person.’

‘Did you go home again?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did everything go on just the same as before?’

‘No. Everything was different after that.’

‘Was that good or bad?’

‘I’m not sure.’ Kestrel thought about it, wanting to answer truthfully. ‘I think maybe it was bad. I’ve never felt I really belong anywhere, ever since.’

‘Maybe you don’t belong anywhere. Maybe some people don’t.’

Kestrel touched the silver voice that hung round her neck, night and day.

‘Maybe not.’

There followed a silence, in which Kestrel thought how her mother had wanted her to marry, and how Sisi was going to be married, and for the first time she felt Sisi was someone like her.

‘Kess,’ said Sisi out of the dark. ‘I don’t want this wedding. But I don’t know how to stop it.’

Kestrel had a short struggle with herself. She was beginning to be ashamed of the way she was using Sisi in her plan. But she had no choice. She must trick Sisi into playing her part, or her
family and her people would never be free.

‘Maybe you should talk to your parents.’

‘They’ll just tell me I have to be married. Mama will say it’ll be the same whoever I marry, and I won’t want to in the beginning, but after a while I’ll get used
to it.’

‘Well,’ said Kestrel, to quiet her conscience, ‘you’re not married until the wedding, and that’s days and days away. Maybe something will happen to change
everything.’

‘Maybe.’ Sisi’s voice sounded small and sad. ‘But I don’t expect it will.’

Kestrel steeled herself to carry out the next step in her plan. She reached an arm out to where Sisi lay.

‘We’ll still go on being friends, won’t we?’

‘Oh yes! Always!’

‘We could have a secret sign, if you like.’

‘A secret sign for what?’

‘Just to tell each other we’re friends.’

‘Oh, yes. I’d like that. What shall it be?’

‘When we’re in public together,’ said Kestrel, ‘and I can’t speak to you because you’re a princess and I’m a servant, I shall press the palms of my
hands together, and then clasp my fingers, like two people hugging. That’ll tell you I’m thinking of how we’re friends.’

‘Oh, Kess! How lovely! And what’s my sign?’

‘You do the same for me.’

There was a silence. Then Sisi spoke happily out of the dark.

‘I’m doing it now. Are you doing it?’

‘Yes.’

‘I do love you, Kess. I’ve never had a secret friend sign before.’

‘Nor have I.’

‘Then I’m your first secret friend, and you’re mine.’

Warmed by this thought, Sisi settled down at last to sleep.

The next morning Ozoh the Wise awoke to find his chicken gone. The cage door was open, and the chicken nowhere to be seen. He searched the carriage in mounting panic.

‘Where are you, silky? Cluck-cluck-cluck! Where are you, my dove?’

The chicken was gone. It couldn’t let itself out of its cage. Someone, therefore, had stolen it.

Ozoh sat on his chair by the empty cage and tears crept down his painted cheeks. He loved his chicken. He knew it was ridiculous to love a chicken, but the fowl had been a friend to him, and he
was lonely on the journey.

Then he dried his tears and did some serious thinking. The time for his morning sign reading was rapidly approaching. It would not do much for his reputation if he admitted he had lost his
sacred chicken, and had no idea what had become of it. So he made a short discreet visit to the provisions wagons.