The World Weavers (4 page)

 

CHAPTER 4

S
ulis stretched as the morning sun filtered in through the inn's window. Beside her, Ashraf just groaned and sank deeper under the covers.

Ashraf had mentioned to the innkeeper that his clan was the Nasirofs of Frubia, and their group had subsequently been given the best rooms in the inn. Ashraf had commandeered the only bedroom with a sitting room attached. When Sulis protested the cost, he laughed.

“Sulis, love, I could buy this entire inn if I wanted to,” he said. “I am no longer heir, but my portion of the demesne has left me with deep pockets.”

He'd also procured a bottle of the inn's finest liquor. They'd had a glorious evening. Having the privacy to release their passion made the trip worth the effort. Sulis hoped they hadn't been too noisy because Dani and Turo were sharing the room beside them. Grandmother and Palou had opted for a room at the other end of the hallway, wanting some privacy of their own.

“Up, up. Grandmother wants a breakfast meeting,” Sulis said, pulling the covers off Ashraf. He stretched and Sulis covetously admired his naked body.

“Ashraf, do you mind it much, not being heir?” she asked. “We've had so much going on, I never thought your heart might be somewhere else.”

Ashraf sat up and put his breeches on. “I try not to think about it,” he said, after a moment. “I felt betrayed when I got the letter from my parents letting me know my sister was heir. That hurt. I thought I would return to the demesne when this was all over. Now I try to appreciate each moment here, with you, and try not to think about the future.”

“You've been comforting me, but you've been hurting as much,” Sulis said, putting her arms around him. “I am such a selfish creature. When this is all over, we will create our own demesne, our own trading empire. Maybe we should start a new tradition—­combine our names. We could be the Nasifels. Or the Hasirofs.”

Ashraf chuckled and started to speak, but a knock interrupted them.

Palou's voice came from the other side. “You'll miss breakfast if you don't come down. We've word from the elders, and your grandmother wants everyone to gather.”

Sulis sighed. “I guess we'd better get down to breakfast. Be thinking about what kind of Nasifel Hasirof empire you want to build. The future will be ours, Ashraf.”

Kadar was sitting at the end of the table, having joined them for this meeting. He was talking with Dani, and Ashraf scooted in beside him on the bench with Sulis, facing Grandmother and Palou. Turo was eating as though this would be his last meal, smacking his lips in appreciation of the fresh fruit and greens.

“The elders want to meet early evening, after the business day,” Grandmother said. “At the pavilion beside the river. The Tasharas are business leaders. They need a compelling reason to give arms and supplies to the Tigus and warriors of the One.”

Kadar nodded. “I think we need to focus on the caravans that were seized in Illian. I asked around yesterday. The Tasharas have a caravan in Illian now, which was probably taken by the deities' acolytes. The caravan masters could be compelled to give route specifics to the deities. The Tigus need to have better weapons to repel that threat.”

Turo thumped a fist down on the table. “We already fight hard!” He grimaced and spoke rapidly in the Tigu tongue to Grandmother. She translated for the rest of them.

“The deities' army has a permanent station at the border, east of Illian, used for training. The Tigus have kept them from crossing the border into the Southern Territory for decades,” Grandmother said. “It is the Tigus' mission to protect the Sands from Northerner invaders. But the deities' army has tripled in the past two years. The Tigus do not have the ­people to repel the army and check every caravan to see if the caravan masters are under a
geas
. The Tigus will be overrun if they do not have the humpbacks they need and are not armed properly.”

Ashraf cleared his throat. “My family sent a large sum with the last caravan that came through the Sands,” he said. “We should be able to buy much of the weaponry we need with that. We don't have to beg.”

Grandmother frowned and tapped her fingers on the table, thinking. “That is generous, Ashraf. I will send you and Turo out before our meeting to secure as much as you can. Unfortunately, I think we'll need more weaponry than they will sell us. They keep close tabs on the iron worked in the city and feed out only as much as will keep the prices high. We need their reserves.”

“Do the Tigus have anyone who can work the iron into steel if we do get the reserves?” Dani asked.

Grandmother spoke to Turo, who responded.

“He says yes, in their city. But it would be best to have as many ready-­made weapons as possible. There is no time in war to make new weapons,” Grandmother translated.

“I can tell quality weapons from bad,” Dani offered. “Buying weapons was part of my job at home. I'd be glad to help.”

“I'm not a weapons expert, but I can translate for Turo,” Palou said.

“We'll go now,” Ashraf said. “And report what we were able to procure at late meal so we know going into the meeting how much more we'll need.”

Grandmother nodded. “Good. Sulis and I will go over our energy forms and dances in the courtyard. Clay gave us some new patterns to think about. I want to remind the Tasharas that we Chosen wield power they do not have. Maybe that will make them more generous in their obligation to the One.”

Sulis looked around for Djinn and found him and Pax sharing a giant length of sausage in the corner, much bigger than the one their table had been served. The innkeeper glowered at their table, a broom in his hand. Ashraf glanced at Sulis when she sighed.

“Let me settle up with the innkeeper,” she said, gesturing to the
feli
. “It looks like Djinn found where the meats are kept. Find a butcher while you're out, would you? I don't want angry sheepherders running us out of town if the
feli
decide they want fresh meat.”

“W
e bought out most of the weapons in town,” Ashraf told Sulis later in the day. “Even the ones Dani thought were less than perfect. Your grandmother was right; it isn't enough for an army.”

“She spent the afternoon showing off,” Sulis said. “She lifted a huge rock, using just energy. And she made the energy visible, colorful; everyone could see it swirling around. Almost the entire town is made up of the Tashara family—­so someone will have reported it to the elders. The innkeeper is regretting giving us his best rooms—­no one will come to his tavern tonight with the scary priestess staying there.”

Late meal sped by as they reported and devised a plan. Kadar joined them with Datura. Sulis asked what he'd done all day and he grinned.

“The Tasharas have been cosseting me,” he said. “Showing me the splendid life in Tsangia. I've already had three job offers.” He laughed at her dubious look, and Datura chortled with him. “Don't worry, I didn't accept any.”

The group decked themselves in splendid Nasirof silks. Grandmother procured a knobby staff and led them down the main road, her white hair free and wild around her head, chin lifted. Djinn and Pax strode beside them, adding a dignified grace to their group.

They reached the river pavilion and were bowed in by a guard. Abram, looking solemn in his best robes, led them to a pavilion covered in colorful silks. A dozen men and women rose from their silken bolsters to bow and greet them each individually.

It took a long time. Even Sulis, used to the ways of a formal Southern gathering, could see that the Tasharas were not happy they'd been forced to meet with Grandmother's delegation. They were delaying to assess Grandmother and decide if they could refuse her demands without penalties. Aunt Raella was frowning and Abram looked glassy-­eyed.

“Ooh, let me hold my little darling,” a steely white-­haired woman cooed, taking Datura from Kadar. “She's practically my own granddaughter, the way Raella has cared for her.”

Sulis could see that neither Kadar nor Grandmother was happy with that statement.

“Shall we discuss our business?” Grandmother asked pleasantly. “This welcome has been gracious, but the shadows are deepening.”

Sulis settled onto the cushion provided and watched the Tashara elders as Grandmother presented their case. Most were stoic, their faces showing little. Others frowned from time to time.

“It is not our fault if the caravans have been seized,” a man from the metalworkers side of the family said. “We have lost much as well. If they have seized our caravan, then we cannot afford to give more.”

Sulis scoffed to herself, looking around at the show of conspicuous wealth. Aunt Raella looked equally disgruntled.

“You cannot afford not to give,” Grandmother said, standing to address the group. “The time has come. The Chosen have gathered. There will be war and it will spread even to Tsangia. Do you think you'll escape retribution if the deities regain their full powers? Do you think . . .”

“Yes, yes,” an elderly woman interrupted, waving a dismissive hand at Grandmother. “We saw you showing off your Chosen powers in the courtyard. Very impressive.” She didn't sound impressed. “But I worry the Tigus will turn against us if the deities offer them a bribe. One knows what they'd actually use the iron for—­sell it or waste it, probably.”

Turo leapt to his feet, yelling in the Tigu tongue. Palou stood, too, and tried to calm him. Grandmother turned away, bent to sit, and then straightened again, a hand on her chest. Abram, beside her, gasped and reached a hand toward her. As everyone else focused on Turo, Sulis watched her grandmother shrug off Abram's hand and take a ­couple of steps away from the group. She closed her eyes.

Grandmother shook her head and her face paled. Palou stopped translating and rushed to her, putting a hand on her arm. The room quieted as the Tasharas watched, puzzled by Palou's concern.

“You are in distress,” Palou said. “What is wrong, Joisha? What has happened?”

“The link between me and my son. I felt a sharp pain, and then Tarik was gone. I need to find him,” Grandmother said softly, urgently.

Grandmother looked up and over at Sulis, held out a trembling hand. She looked old, face lined and worn. “Help me,” she said, her voice quavering with fear.

Sulis leapt up and joined hands with her grandmother, like they'd practiced in training, feeding her energy. Ashraf joined with her, and then Djinn boosted all of them.

For a moment Sulis was in her grandmother's mind. She saw all the energy links her grandmother had, not just to other Chosen, but also to her family and close friends. A link was missing, was a raw gaping hole, and Grandmother searched anxiously, reaching far up to Illian. She connected with Uncle Aaron, who searched as well, anguished as he realized his brother was missing.

Kadar entered their link through his twin bond with Sulis.

Mother,
Uncle Aaron sent to them through Kadar.
I tried to reach him. I tried to reach Tarik. We found Simon. The healers smuggled him out before the lockdown and he's with us now. But Tarik was in Voras's prison, being questioned. We couldn't find a way to get him out without being taken.

He's gone,
Grandmother sent, anguished.
There is a hole where he should be. His mind is gone. They destroyed him, trying to force answers from him. I should have told him to leave with Kadar. Oh, my beautiful little boy, my youngest. Dead.

Grandmother collapsed to her knees, weeping into her hands. Sulis shuddered as the connection between them all was cut abruptly.

“Kadar,” Aunt Raella said, stepped toward him. “What is it? What's happening?”

Kadar stepped forward, reaching toward Aunt Raella. “Aaron has Simon,” he told her. “He's safe. But Uncle Tarik . . .” He trailed off as terrible comprehension dawned on her face. She threw her head back and howled. Abram joined her.

The elders took up the ululation. Datura screamed with them, and Kadar took his daughter, hiding his tears in her soft hair. Dani backed away from the gathering, eyes wide and horrified. Sulis went to him.

“My uncle Tarik is dead,” she said softly, tears coursing down her face. “Grandmother felt him die. This is how we usher souls to the One, how we show our grief.”

Sulis buried her head in Ashraf's shoulder as the cries went on into the deepening night. When they softened, Sulis looked to the weeping crowd. Aunt Raella stood in the center, her face calm. She addressed the elders.

“I am recognized as a daughter of the clan!” she stated.

They hesitated, looking at each other. Then the elderly woman who had interrupted Grandmother said firmly, “You are.”

The rest of the clan took up the cry. “You are a daughter of the clan.”

“I demand restitution for my husband's death.”

Sulis gasped as she recognized the beginnings of the blood feud ritual. She couldn't imagine whom the Tasharas would feud with—­the deities themselves? She watched as the clan responded.

“The clan stands ready to bring justice for our daughter. Who stands accused of this crime?”

“The murderers were the Northern deities,” Aunt Raella declared, her voice shaking.

“We will avenge,” her clan responded, but she shook her head.

“Our clan is merchants and miners, not warriors. I would not demand that we fight,” Aunt Raella said. “But we will give our iron to those who do fight. We will support their war so that more of our clan does not die.”

The elders looked around at each other. They bowed in acquiescence to Raella.

Aunt Raella turned to Kadar. “You brought this upon your family,” she said. Sulis stepped forward to protest, but Ashraf held her back as Kadar bent his head. “You did so out of innocence, out of love. But your actions with the Forsaken brought this upon Tarik.”