Spiritwalker 3: Cold Steel (7 page)

Like all trolls Keer was tall, with the predatorily gracile movement of a creature
at home with killing, even though I had never seen her eat anything other than fruit
and nuts. She had the snout and teeth of a hunter and big, round eyes like those of
a raptor that can see farther and with more detail than any human. Seen from a distance,
the tiny brown feathers covering her skin made it look as if she were covered with
scales. Close up, the odd shimmer of feathers and the expressive shifting of her feathered
crest caused her to seem a blend of lizard and bird and yet, truly, not either one.
She was a lawyer, the local representative of the firm of Godwik and Clutch. Her clutch
also ran a printing press.

Behind her came Kofi and Luce carrying Vai’s chest between them.

Keer approached me in an intimidating manner, but I did not retreat. She passed her
cheek alongside mine, and took in an audible sniff. I sucked in a breath myself, for
it was always wise to imitate what trolls did as a mark of respect. Her scent reminded
me of the perfume of summer in the north, when the sun bakes grass from green to gold.

She bobbed a greeting, then stepped away to pace around the table
on which Rory lay. “I have come to represent you at the standing inquiry, and to help
you make your defense. Curious, this one. He looks like a rat but he smells like a
cat.”

I smoothed a hand over Rory’s disheveled hair, wondering if Keer was fighting off
an urge to taste mancat flesh. “I suppose he does.”

She chuffed a trollish laugh. Three trolls accompanied her. Two posted themselves
as guards, one at each door. The third sat at the other table, opened a writing case,
and prepared to take a written record of the proceedings.

“Cat, have yee eaten?” Luce asked.

“I asked the wardens to bring something, but they never did.”

“How like men!” she muttered. “Yee must be famished.”

“I am, and really thirsty, too.”

“We cannot begin until you are fed,” said Keer. “No person can be expected to think
properly if she is distracted by hunger.” She showed her teeth in an unsettling mimicry
of a human smile, which reminded me how easily she could eat me if
she
were distracted by hunger.

“I’ll get food,” said Luce.

While we waited, Keer, Kofi, and I argued about the latest batey games and gossip.
Luce returned with rice porridge, fruit, ginger beer, and enough cassava bread and
rice and peas to feed six of me, although I managed to finish almost half of it while
the others picked off the rest. When I had done, Keer banished Luce and Kofi.

“I must conduct the interview in privacy, so yee must wait outside.” When they had
gone, she settled opposite me at the table. She was facile with human language and
adjusted her speech to fit her listener. “Tell me everything that happened.”

I explained how I had been betrayed by General Camjiata into the custody of Queen
Anacaona, and how she had ordered her people to imprison me on Salt Island because
I had been bitten by a salter. “But the cacica herself said I was clean. The salt
plague is spread by the invisible teeth of the ghouls, eating through flesh and then
into the brain. I have no ghoul’s teeth in my body. There was nothing to heal.”

“Useful to know but not helpful with the case,” she said, watching as the clerk scratched
markings I could not read. “The First Treaty does give the Taino the right to demand
you be turned over to them because of the quarantine. What else can you tell me?”

I explained how, on Hallows’ Eve, the Wild Hunt had ridden out of a hurricane and
rescued me from Salt Island. At the command of the Master of the Wild Hunt, I had
cut a path with my half-mortal blood through the fence of magic that surrounded the
Taino kingdom. My sire had told me the Wild Hunt would kill my dear cousin Beatrice
if I did not find richer blood to feed the courts who ruled the Hunt. I had meant
for the Wild Hunt to kill General Camjiata, the man who had betrayed me. But because
Camjiata had no magic, my sire could not see or sense him. Instead, my sire had decided
to kill my husband because he was a cold mage of rare and unexpected potency. At the
same time, the cacica had been about to kill me together with other fugitives who
had escaped Salt Island.

“You did not with your own hands, talons, teeth, or sword kill the cacica,” said Keer.

“No, but I convinced the Master of the Wild Hunt to take her instead of Vai.”

“You acted in self-defense. The cacica was about to kill you, and you defended yourself.”

“What about Rory? Many witnesses saw a black saber-toothed cat break her neck.”

She tapped her taloned fingers on the table. “Is a soldier responsible for the deaths
he is ordered to inflict in battle? Or is the general who commands the deaths held
to be the responsible party? Furthermore, on a night of storm, confused and frightened
people may see shadows as giant eagles or as creeping spiders. Perhaps there was such
a cat. Certainly in the ancestral territories of my people, what you rats call troll
country, such carnivores prowl the land. We have hunted them and been hunted in our
turn. But that is not proof that your brother committed the act.”

“The prince saw him become a cat and then change back into a man, just now, when he
got shot,” I said.

“We cannot accuse a man of thieving a hat just because some man was seen to steal
a hat and the accused is also a man.” She bared her teeth at me in a brilliantly sharp
smile, as if she were preparing to eat any lawyers who argued against her. “Very well.
I am prepared to make a case.”

As the clerk tidied up her notes, we went to the glass-paned doors
to look into the deserted courtyard. Afternoon shadows smeared darkness across stone
pathways.

Kofi joined us there. “I have set wardens to guard yee so the fire mage can make no
mischief before the inquiry. I don’ trust him, with the way he went after yee on the
steps. As for the general, we shall see who shall come out the winner in this match.”

“The general scored a point on you all, didn’t he? By catching me at the quay.”

His taut smile made him look eager for a fight. “We’s not playing batey now. We in
the Assembly is playing the game of politics. We don’ intend to lose this hard-won
freedom. If the Taino can force us to turn yee over to them, then it’s as if they
rule us. That’s why we shall fight so hard to get yee off, despite what the law and
the First Treaty say.”

Voices were raised outside. We looked around as the door slammed open to reveal stern-faced
Taino soldiers, richly dressed attendants, Prince Caonabo, and Beatrice.

Some people have the knack of sweeping into any situation as if they were born to
be the light of all eyes. Beatrice might be mistaken for a shallow, flighty, and self-absorbed
young woman, but I knew her bombastic and flamboyant manner concealed a generous heart,
a brooding intellect, and an indignation at the unfairness and injustice in the world.
She had had a lot of time to think about the curse of dreaming that would plague her
for the rest of her life and had chosen to confront it head-on. Clutching a sketchbook
and lead pencil, she sailed into the room.

“Cat! There you are!”

A magnificent white cotton robe in the style of a Taino noblewoman’s covered her from
shoulders to ankles. A bodice beaded with pearls wrapped her bosom and waist, emphasizing
her much admired and voluptuous curves. The lush curls of her black hair cascaded
around her shoulders, ornamented with strings of pearls. She embraced me, then looked
around my shoulder.

“Rory!” She ran to him and rested her cheek against his. Tears glimmered in her eyes.

“Prince Caonabo healed him,” I said, following her. “I thought you should know that.”

Prince Caonabo broke his silence. “Assemblyman, how can my people trust those who
will not honor the law and our ancient treaties?”

“A heavy accusation, Your Highness,” said Kofi, with the stare of a man who feels
sure of his ground. I was surprised he spoke so boldly to the Taino prince. “My advice
to yee is to be careful in how yee choose yee allies.”

The prince indicated the door. “I should prefer to speak to the accused in private.”

Kofi looked at me, and I nodded my permission. He, Keer, and all the others left.
Bee and I were alone with the prince except, of course, for his catch-fires and Rory.

Bee smiled blindingly at Caonabo for long enough to coax a smile to his grave expression.
“I hope you see it is impossible for you to consider hanging my dear Cat.”

“Hanging is a barbaric Europan custom,” the prince replied as he crossed the chamber.

Reaching her, he extended a hand. To my surprise, Bee meekly handed him her new sketchbook,
the one she had started after Camjiata had stolen the other. Bee had started drawing
the year my parents died and had never stopped. She often slept with a pencil in her
hand. Even now her fingers were smudged with lead. She had been drawing and had come
in such haste she hadn’t had time to wash.

“So, Beatrice”—he pronounced the name charmingly, like
Bey-a-tree-say
—“we all three know she had a hand in the death of my mother.” I would never have
dared to thumb through Bee’s sketchbook without permission unless I was far enough
away from her to avoid objects flung at me. He flipped casually through its mostly
blank pages. “Regardless, I have done as you asked.”

“What did you ask, Bee?” I demanded.

“I asked nothing.” Bee’s gaze was fixed on the sketchbook as if she expected spiders
to crawl out of it.

“It is true. She asked nothing. A woman like Beatrice does not crudely threaten. She
would never remind me in plain words that my claim to the cacique’s throne is tenuous
and that I need her presence as my bride to give my claim weight. She would never
hold over my head how precious a treasure she is. One need only look at her to know
that.”

She flashed a gaze at him, her chin trembling, then demurely cast her gaze to the
floor. “Does the marriage bed not please you, Husband?”

He tensed. “You know it does. But that cannot sway me.”

“Sway you from what?” I asked.

“Beatrice went to visit you at your domicile yesterday,” said the
prince. “She returned to the palace before evening. It was at that time I believe
she heard my councillors speak of arresting you for the murder of the cacica. Here
is the sketch she drew this morning.”

He showed me a sketch. Bee had drawn five people on a wide path. The path was spanned
by a huge monumental archway hung with painted gourds in the Taino style. Seen past
the arch, lying below the height, spread a splendid city and harbor, almost certainly
Taino if one judged by the ballcourt and sprawling palace seen in the distance. Rory
loitered at the back of the group with a jaunty grin on his face, as if he’d just
gotten away with something he knew he ought not to have done, and certainly ought
not to have enjoyed quite so much. A second man was sketched entirely from the back,
but I could tell he was Vai. He wore a splendidly fashionable dash jacket printed
in an outrageous pattern of flowers like bursting fireworks, and he was holding my
hand. In the sketch, I looked as cranky and out of sorts as if I’d been having a discussion
I didn’t want to have. Fortunately I was wearing a fashionable military-cut riding
jacket with a split skirt and a jaunty hat.

In the sketch, Prince Caonabo leaned against the right-hand span of the archway as
if he had been waiting a long time for us to reach him. Bee strode out in front looking
quite spectacularly…

“Pregnant!” I cried.

“Pregnant,” agreed Caonabo. He snapped the sketchbook shut, and Bee flinched. “There
you are, Maestra, you and your brother and your husband, alive and well in Sharagua.
What man would not be moved by such a pleasing vision of his harmonious future?”

I hadn’t had time to examine the sketch closely, for there was one obvious thing that
might have caused this puzzling tension between them. “That is you, Your Highness,
is it not?”

Bee blushed mightily.

Caonabo did not look at her, only at me. “You wonder if I believe it to be my brother.
Haübey and I are twins, shaped to the same mold. Few people can tell us apart. But
Beatrice can tell us apart. It is evident to me by certain small signs”—none of which
he was going to share with me!—“that the man in the sketch is meant to represent me
rather than Haübey. The sketch might be described as a bribe, if you will.”

I grasped Bee’s hand. Her skin felt like ice. “What do you mean, Your Highness?”

“What man would not wish to make sure such a future came about by protecting all the
parts necessary to make this meeting happen? Do you not suppose so, Beatrice? A man’s
ability to sire children is a mark of potency. Even though it is my sister’s sons
who will inherit my position as cacique once I pass over, still, a cacique who cannot
sire children of his own will be seen as a weak man unworthy of the duho, the seat
of power.”

Bee’s fingers tightened on mine until my hand hurt. Her strength always surprised
people, even me as I set my jaw and tried to relax into the pain, for it was clear
Bee was truly upset.

He went on in that same level voice, but I could hear an edge. “But one problem remains.”

“What is that, Your Highness?”

“Dream walkers are barren.”

Bee gasped.

“How can anyone know?” I asked, but my mind was already churning. Camjiata had married
a dream walker and she had never borne children. The radical fighter Brennan Touré
Du had told Bee and me a story about a young woman from his home village who had seen
visions and been killed by the Wild Hunt on Hallows’ Night, and Brennan had remarked
that although the woman had been married for five years, she had given birth to no
child in that time. “I mean, surely even if one or two dreamers never had children,
no scholar would claim that means all such women are barren.”