The Red Queen (88 page)

She slept in one of several bedchambers at the rear of the lower part of the house, alongside the little chamber in which her son now slept. The information she held in her conscious mind concerned such things as the dawn delivery of a load of fish and shellfish and some sort of sea vegetables that a slave brought from her bondmate’s ship. When he was not in port he made provision for the same goods to be delivered from other ships. Later in the morning there would be a delivery of grain from the dome farms and goats’ milk brought in enormous urns in a wheeled cart pulled by a Redland slave. Because the slave was a male, her son would answer the door and bring out the household urn to be filled. Almost all food was delivered in its raw form and one of Riyad’s tasks was to supervise its refinement – grinding grain, churning the milk, and drying fruits and vegetables.

To my disappointment, Riyad knew nothing of the lives of the slaves. She thought of them as a barbaric people who, before the slavemasters had taken over their land, had devoured their children and sacrificed their women to the sea after setting them on fire. Suddenly I felt I could no longer endure the morass of terror and ignorance and superstition that was her mind. I was about to withdraw when I discovered that her son tended to slip away at every chance and roam the streets of the settlement. Riyad lived in fear of some harm coming to him, both because she loved him and because of what her
ban
would do to her if anything happened to the boy. It truly seemed that the getting of a son and the possibility that she might bear another was her sole value to her bondmate, or at least this was her belief. Her secret wish, barely acknowledged even to herself, was for a daughter who might be a helpmate and confidant, but given her treatment of her slaves and the viciousness her misery had generated in her, I could only hope it would never happen.

About to withdraw once more, I found a small reservoir of gadi words, phrases and titles with which urolish, considered by Gadfians to be the common tongue, could be salted. Digging under the words, I was surprised to discover that pure gadi was spoken only man to man and woman to woman. Curiously, men and women did not speak gadi to one another, and all Gadfian children learned gadi and urolish from the beginning because the parent of the opposite sex spoke in urolish to them. It seemed a needless complexity, save that Gadfians learned to speak two languages, one of which no other people could understand, which meant they could discuss things without being understood by anyone other than another Gadfians.

Thinking of her concern for her son, I found a thread that confirmed that there
was
a curfew in Redport, lasting from sunset to sunrise every day and including all in Redport save members of the Chafiri. It was policed by the Ekoni. Pressing deeper into this word, I learned that the hooded soldierguards I had seen were called Ekoni, and were a body of elite warriors the Chafiri used to enforce their rule. The majority of them were halfbloods – Gadfians born of Chafiri fathers to non-Gadfian mothers. Riyad knew something of this because one of her brothers had sired a boychild on a slavewoman, who had joined the Ekoni. Higher ranks of Ekoni had to be pure Gadfian, and they had a good deal of power, but even plain Ekoni were elite among other Gadfian halfbloods.

Ordinary Chafiri men could not hope to bond with High Chafiri women, who were the only means of getting pureblood High Chafiri children, and therefore even more restricted than other women, all of whom were kept guarded and watched. The higher the woman’s rank, the more complete her seclusion and the greater the level of protection and control. According to Riyad, High Chafiri women were never permitted outside, even with escorts, save within a closed carriage borne on the shoulders of slaves and guarded by Ekoni. They travelled only once in their lives, from the house of their father to the house of their bondmate. Apparently Gadfian women like Riyad could move about the settlement in daylight with a male escort, but she did not avail herself of this freedom.

I continued to explore her store of knowledge about the Ekoni, and by this means, learned that there were five High Chafiri in Redport. One had come with the original invading force of Ekoni and was especially worshipped by them. The other four had come when it was decided to transform Redport into a Gadfian colony. All five were supposed to be equal but in fact the first comer was deferred to in all things, for as well as masterminding the invasion of the Red Land, he was first son of the most important High Chafiri in New Gadfia. All of the High Chafiri had household guards of Ekoni who seemed, from Riyad’s thoughts, to be born of the bloodline of that house, and for that reason, were especially loyal.

I also learned that none of the High Chafiri resided in the palace. In fact Riyad seemed, strangely, never to have heard of the Red Queen’s Palace. The High Chafiri dwelt in five large walled and gated compounds in the highest part of southern Redport, overlooking the bay. Their household Ekoni dwelt in small barracks within their compounds while the main Ekoni were housed in a large barracks near the Long Pier. I had no idea what the Long Pier was, and neither did Riyad, but obviously it must be somewhere on the shore of the bay, most likely in the south, too, given this was where most of the Gadfians dwelt.

Riyad thought of the High Chafiri in New Gadfia as gods who spoke directly to the Great God her people worshipped, and the High Chafiri in Redport as lesser gods, who must nonetheless be placated by all sorts of rituals. I marvelled at how much energy she poured into her imaginary conversations with them, while having no interest in the history of her own country and people, nor of the Beforetime or the Great White.

Partly it was because Riyad seemed to consider herself property, first of her father and now of her
ban
, that she had so little curiosity and no rebelliousness. Her mind was preoccupied solely with her domestic life, and with tending to her son and making preparations for her bondmate’s comfort. I felt pity as well as revulsion as, at last, I gently wiped all signs of my visit from her mind and sent her to her bed, with instructions to sleep well and without dreams. I then went into her son’s chamber and ensured he would do the same, so as not to waken her.

I lingered a little in his mind to take what information I could from it. It matched his mother’s in some wise but I was interested to discover that, according to him, the Gadfians wanted to turn Redport into a proper colony because of overcrowding back in New Gadfia and because it was hoped the mine output could be increased. As I had guessed, the boy’s mind told me that much of the ore was transported back to New Gadfia; more worryingly, I found a frustrated rage that was beginning to focus itself on his mother. Without compunction I erased it and replaced it with a fierce coercive command to protect and honour her, which I hoped would take root and infuse his mind, counteracting the almost worshipful regard he had for his largely absent sire.

It was the best payment I could offer for the use of the kitchen to bathe myself and for the theft of one of Riyad’s long voluminous dresses and headscarves. Having seen from her mind that only girls in pleasure houses or slavewomen about to be sold were dressed as I was clad, I knew I must change. I would far rather have dressed as a man, for ease of movement, but Gadfian men traditionally wore beards. The only advantage of Riyad’s clothing was that it would cover me from head to toe and enable me to pass for a Gadfian woman, so long as I kept my head down. Unfortunately, it would also prevent me moving about without a male escort. I would have to deeply coerce a man to accompany me, because for some strange reason, women walked a precise distance
behind
their men, which would prohibit physical contact.

Of course the best thing would be to get out of Redport before dawn, but I had spent so long with Riyad that I knew the sun must soon rise. Abandoning the idea of investigating the mysterious Infinity of Dragonstraat or of going to the shore of the bay, I slipped out into the thinning darkness, glancing around to see that neither Maruman nor Darga was waiting for me, and then setting off decisively north. My destination was the northernmost portion of the settlement that Riyad thought of as Slavetown. Her son’s mind had confirmed that I had been right to believe most slaves dwelt in the crowded streets north of the settlement, but many Redlanders and all foreign slaves dwelt within a part of the settlement that had been walled off, probably to restrict the less passive foreign slaves, though from what I had seen from atop the dome, the area was hardly large enough to contain the slaves brought in to make up the promised army.

It was a relief to be able to move swiftly and with confidence along the tangled lanes and streets, for I had taken a good swift route from the boy’s mind that would bring me across the settlement by ways that avoided the busy, well-patrolled spoke streets, which the boy called scythes, presumably after their curving shape. He knew the circuitous but safe route intimately because sometimes he went to Slavetown to visit a Redland friend whose mother kept goats. His mother would have been appalled had she known he called a Redland boy a friend, as would his father, all the more so because he sometimes accompanied the other boy out of Redport to the north, where he would graze the goats. I was surprised by this, but perhaps there
was
good grazing ground just north of the settlement. The horses would not have gone so close to the settlement, after all.

I checked behind me every time I stopped at a cross street, in the hope of seeing Darga or Maruman following. Of course I had no way of contacting them but they could track me or make their own way back to the others. I took a lane that looped back for a little way, and caught a glimpse of the two towers rising above the buildings, and it occurred to me that, seeing my interest in the infinity, Maruman might have gone to inspect it more closely, knowing he could offer his memory to me. That would even accord with my dream vision of him under one of the high towers. The lane looped again and once more I was heading north. I thought about the things I had seen in Riyad’s mind about the recent special festival, which had apparently focused on the Infinity of Dragonstraat. She had not taken part in it and had not much idea of its purpose, save that it was to celebrate the arrival of some important visitor. The boy’s mind had offered more, for he had slipped out to see what was happening, but his memory was marred and distorted because he had surreptitiously swallowed a surfeit of intoxicating but foul-tasting ferment. However I was able to track his interest in the event back to his father’s story of dramatic fire displays that were part of an ancient tradition of the dragonfolk, to be resurrected for the delight of an important visitor from across the great sea. Riyad’s son had been bitterly disappointed by the fire displays, which I saw from his memory were vast bonfires seen from the back of a great crowd of people, upon which various paper shapes had been burned. They were nothing to the stories his father had told of great beasts of leaping fire, and of water bursting from flames.

I wondered now if the important visitor could possibly be the emissary from the land of the white-faced lords and if he was the little man I had dreamed of speaking to Gilaine aboard his purple-sailed greatship or the man Dragon had dreamed about speaking to Ariel. Or were they one and the same?

The only way to get answers to these questions would be to coerce the information out of someone who knew: not a Gadfian woman, given what I had learned from Riyad; a shipman like her
ban
would have done, but even better to coerce an Ekoni or a Chafiri. However, given all I had learned, the chance of my encountering either one alone seemed remote, and as long as my Talents were blocked by the interference binding me to my mind, I could not coerce them from afar.

Another thing I needed to do, was to locate the blocking machine. I had not bothered to ask Riyad about it, for she knew nothing of Ariel. I did find some thoughts about the monster in the mine, but her mind had incorporated the beast into her fearful superstitions and she thought of it as a demon that had been summoned up by the Redland folk using terrible black arts.

I dismissed her, the monster in its lair and the blocking machine from my mind. If I had more time, I would have entered Slavetown to search for Matthew, for the farseeker would certainly know about the blocking static and where it originated. There must be some reason he had done nothing to disrupt it himself, and I wanted to hear of that as well. But this would have to wait. The boy’s mind had shown me that there was only a single, wide gate into Slavetown, which was always locked during the curfew period. Any slave from Slavetown who was caught outside had to remain in the house of his or her master or go to one of the public slave pens by the southern shore of the bay. This was also, incidentally, where slaves were sold or collected after they disembarked, for if caught in the street they risked being locked up in tidal cells.

My sole aim now was to locate the house where Riyad’s son’s friend lived, to gain entry to it and to coerce the household with the intention of learning enough about Redland society to work out how to bring Dragon to her people, and to coerce someone to find Matthew and deliver a message. I would embed it in the mind of my messenger, leaving Matthew to find it by using his own Talent. That the residence I was seeking was very close to the northernmost edge of the settlement was an added bonus. I could move swiftly from it out of the settlement when I was ready, and make my way directly north until I felt safe enough to summon Gahltha to collect me.

I turned again to look for Maruman, wishing the old cat would appear, and a slight breeze wafted into my face, laden with the smell of the sea overlaid with the intoxicating scents of lemons and oranges. I stopped, enchanted and mystified. There was nothing growing anywhere about and I had not passed by one of the walled compounds for some time. Following the boy’s directions, I entered a narrow, winding lane and the citrus scent sharpened.

Then it struck me! Riyad had thought with yearning of a compound house with a roof garden, and had seen the sails the Redlanders erected on the roofs, shading chairs and tables. The fruit trees I could smell must be growing atop the roof of one of the nearby houses.