Master of restless shado.., p.21
Master of Restless Shadows, page 21
part #1 of Master of Restless Shadows Series
“‘Roots’ referred to the underworlds of sacred trees, of course, but it was also a play on the Cadeleonian word ‘routes.’” Yara inclined her head toward the pretty young man beside Narsi. “That way even when they were barred from speaking Haldiim, our ancestors could discuss escape plans as if they were talking about planting carrots right in front of the guardsmen keeping them captive.”
Narsi found the thought ingenious but also chilling. So many people, like himself and those standing near him, all terrified to speak even a word of their native tongue. All trapped within the walls of this city, awaiting their executions.
The other Haldiim looked somber—particularly compared with the rowdy, cheering Cadeleonians all around them. Even Yara seemed suddenly uneasy as she stood in the shadows and frowned down at the clay cup in her hands. Then the young man beside Narsi straightened and lifted his cup.
“Once Sevanyo is king, he’ll put the royal bishop in his place.” He drained the last of his wine. “Why are we standing around like forlorn lambs? We should be celebrating!”
That roused spirits and several couples rushed to join the next dance, while Yara and two other actresses joked about the horrific wreck of a production they had been cast in. They delivered lines in quavering voices and Narsi laughed at their performances.
“I know a place where you could rest,” the young man whispered to Narsi. “It’s not too far from here.”
Narsi gazed down at his light eyes and delicate features. He’d probably make a very obliging partner, certainly pleasant for one night’s company. But he spoke with so much sincerity and hopefulness that it made Narsi uneasy. He deserved someone who wouldn’t be thinking of another man while holding him.
Narsi turned the young man back over to the care of his friends and then found himself a carefree Cadeleonian seamstress to accompany him for the next dance. To his surprise a number of Cadeleonian women queued up to dance with him after that. Several flirted playfully and one jolly older lady asked him for a second reel around the square. Narsi obliged her happily, since she was quite fast and fun to dance with.
Belatedly he realized that with such poor light and so many people in costumes he didn’t stand out as anything but rather tall and a perhaps little bulky with his medical satchel slung across his back.
When Yara came to wish him good night, Narsi thanked her sincerely for her company and introducing him to her friends.
“We have to look after each other. If you find yourself in a tight spot with the priest or the duke, you can always come find me at the Candioro Theater.” Yara offered him a slightly inebriated smile. She began to turn but then stopped. “Is there anything that you need before we head home?”
Narsi shook his head, then realized that he did have a question; the delay made him wonder if he wasn’t still a little drunk himself. “Do you know where I can find the sacred grove? I’d love to see the wisteria trees.”
“Take the crooked lane past the fountain there. It’s not far at all . . .” She yawned and then added, “Irsea, the Bahiim who tended the trees, died, so you won’t wake anyone if you go visit in the moonlight.”
Narsi wished Yara and her friends a good night. As they departed, Narsi noted that he was one of the only Haldiim who remained in the square. The tone of the music had changed as well, turning slow and sultry. Cadeleonian couples swayed close and embraced. A few men surreptitiously handed coins over to their dance partners before creeping beyond the torchlight to gasp and groan in alleyways.
The jolly woman who’d danced with Narsi for two very fast reels sat down on an empty brandywine barrel to pull her shoes off and fan her blistered foot.
Reflexively, Narsi swung his medical case down from his shoulder and opened it up to offer her a balm. As he glanced down into the satchel a jolt of surprise went through him and, had he been sober, he guessed he might have dropped the satchel. As it was, he stared into the leather depths, slowly processing the unexpected glow that Lady Hylanya’s necklace gave off. Narsi snapped the satchel closed.
The jolly Cadeleonian woman didn’t appear to notice at all. She called to a broad-shouldered man with a thick beard. A moment later they were both laughing as he hefted her onto his back, promising to spare her blistered feet the walk back to their home.
Narsi watched them go and wondered if he shouldn’t try to find his way back to the Fat Goose and his horse. The music quieted briefly. Narsi noticed a figure moving through the weaving couples with a purposeful stride. Then he heard the distinct tread of boots ringing out behind him. He glanced over his shoulder but couldn’t make out more than a group of large silhouettes. A flicker of torchlight illuminated a flash of violet cloth hidden beneath a black cloak. Instantly, Narsi remembered the men of the royal bishop’s guard.
Had a group trailed him this entire time?
Yesterday he would have dismissed his alarm as too much imagination and brandywine. But after witnessing Captain Yago paying off two informants—and recalling Lord Vediya’s caution—he knew he shouldn’t ignore his fear. He needed to put as much distance between these men and himself as he could—particularly since he was carrying a necklace that not only belonged to Lady Hylanya but also glowed with illicit spells.
Moving as casually as he could, Narsi walked closer to the swirling rings of dancers. He felt certain that another figure followed after him. The man wearing the rabbit mask. Which meant both the lanes leading back to the stables at the Fat Goose were likely unsafe for him. Narsi’s heart began to hammer in his chest.
Where could he go? How could he elude Captain Yago and his men?
Narsi danced between several couples, his growing fear lending him an unexpected speed. As he wove through deep shadows and whirling dancers, he noticed the mouth of the narrow lane that Yara had pointed out. The sacred grove.
Narsi took several casual steps away from the dancers and then darted from the flickering light of the torches. He hurried up the lane, wishing he could run but too uncertain of his footing to chance it. The cobbles felt decidedly uneven beneath his shoes. He passed what looked like shop fronts, all of them closed—though up on the second floors of a few buildings he noted faint candlelight burning. Here and there he noticed pale blossoms cascading down from flower boxes, and as he distanced himself from the music, he picked out the sounds of bats flitting through the dark sky. His own footsteps rang out against the cobblestones.
He couldn’t be certain, but he thought he heard the tread of boots behind him.
The lane curved suddenly and as Narsi turned he caught sight of a dark rise looming up to his right. Moonlight shone down over a huge grassy hill and lit the magnificent sprawl of giant wisteria branches and flowers. Narsi raced up the hill, feeling absurdly reassured by the way the soft earth and grass muted his steps. The perfume of the trees washed over him as he took the rise and ducked beneath the streamers of cascading blossoms. He leaned back against the huge, gnarled trunk of the nearest tree and watched the road below.
He hoped that his figure would melt into the shadows of the twisted, bowed branches and the rough trunk. He silently repeated a Bahiim prayer twice to himself.
He waited. The street below the hill remained quiet and empty. Narsi began to feel foolish.
Then a dark figure turned the corner. A second followed and stepped briefly through a shaft of moonlight. This time Narsi saw the violet lining the man’s cloak clearly.
“You’re sure it was him?” Captain Yago spoke quietly, but Narsi still recognized his voice. “And he came this way?”
Narsi’s heart began to pound in his chest. He hadn’t just imagined it. The royal bishop’s men truly were in pursuit of him. Did they know that he possessed Lady Hylanya’s necklace? Or were they simply following him because he seemed like an easy target to vent their frustrations against? Neither thought offered any consolation.
“It looked like Atreau,” the other man answered, but he didn’t sound certain. “It’s hard to say with so many of them wearing masks and costumes.”
Narsi wondered if some snitch had mistaken him for Lord Vediya? That seemed like quite a stretch. Neither he nor Lord Vediya had lost a limb and they were both clean-shaven men, but beyond that there was little physical resemblance between them.
“I . . . He might have turned down a different lane,” the informant admitted and Captain Yago swore. Though Narsi thought that the man sounded almost as tired as angry.
“Maybe if we searched ahead up to Ochora Street—” the informant began, but Captain Yago turned away.
“You’ve wasted enough of my time tonight,” Captain Yago ground out.
“What about the silver you promised—”
“Don’t push your luck! As it stands, you’re lucky I haven’t paid you with a steel blade in your back.” Captain Yago disappeared around the corner. The narrow-faced informant scowled, then followed Captain Yago.
Narsi leaned against the tree, feeling relieved for the shelter. He wondered if his prayers hadn’t been heard—though just to be safe, he crept farther into sacred grove. The towering wisteria trees formed a circle, and overhead, Narsi could see the moon.
He sank down to the ground beside one of the thick tree roots.
When he set his medical satchel down, a faint golden glow seemed to seep from it. All at once small gold letters lit up across an exposed section of the wisteria’s gnarled root. Narsi stared at the faint, flickering letters and then quickly looked back behind him to make certain no one stood on the street below. Not only did the street remain empty, but he realized that the glow of the letters didn’t reach far, and they dimmed after first igniting. Now they smoldered dull red, like dying embers.
Protection, Strength, Wisdom, Courage.
Narsi stared at the Haldiim words until they faded back to darkness. He remembered the night that the sacred grove in Anacleto had lit up like a forest of lightning and filled the night sky with golden blessings. But that had been in Anacleto, behind the thick walls that protected the Haldiim District; here in the open air of the capital Narsi felt nearly as frightened as he did awed. If some Cadeleonian passerby noticed the lights amidst the trees, Narsi felt certain it wouldn’t go well for him.
And yet he couldn’t keep himself from lifting up his satchel and setting it down a few inches farther away. Again gold symbols lit up along the roots, but this time they also flickered to life from between tufts of wild grass and weeds. Narsi glanced back over his shoulder, then cautiously opened his satchel. The dull green of Lady Hylanya’s pendant shone like an emerald and the very tip of the stone gleamed bright white. The gold sparks on the ground leapt up like fireflies taking flight and circled around the open mouth of the satchel and hovered around Narsi’s face. He heard a woman’s melodic voice whispering in Haldiim through the branches of the trees.
“Have you come at last to rouse Wadi Tel and raise Meztli’s shields again?”
“Uh . . . I—no?” Narsi barely managed to get any words out at all.
The grove stood silent and the golden blessings all around Narsi seemed to dim.
“You’ve not been sent to defend this place?”
“Defend? No. I’m just . . . resting here. Are you Irsea . . .” Narsi trailed off as he recalled Yara telling him that the Bahiim who had tended the sacred grove had died. Narsi peered around but couldn’t make out who addressed him.
The shining gold blessings floating all around him seemed to cast deep shadows across the grassy ground. One of the shadows shuddered, almost like a living thing. Then it opened its yellow eyes and Narsi realized that he was being scrutinized by a large black crow only a yard from him.
Another shadow flapped its wings and two more shifted their sleek heads to peer at Narsi. There had to be twenty or thirty of the glossy black birds all gathered around him.
Bahiim kept crows as familiars and as vessels for their wandering souls; he’d been told that countless times, but somehow realizing that a human spirit studied him from the birds’ bodies felt startling. After everything else he’d seen today, this shouldn’t have so unnerved him. Yet his hands shook as he gripped his medical satchel.
He stared at the crows, trying to will them to either become completely solid or to recede back into flat shadows. But as the letters hovering over Narsi’s hands flickered, the crows appeared to rise and collapse, like tricks of the light.
A warm breeze moved over Narsi. It whispered in his ear.
“You are no witch, though you carry one of their stones of passage. You are no Bahiim, though you bear our blessings. No priest, though you wear the emblem of their orders. Who are you, child?”
“I—I’m Narsi, son of Wadi Lif-Tahm. I’m a physician, and this necklace—” Narsi recalled what the voice had called Hylanya’s necklace. “The stone of passage isn’t mine. I’m just holding it for someone else.” Narsi whispered the words, feeling both foolish and frightened at once.
“Ah, you are a courier. But you are too late to shelter here, child. My flesh lies in the ground beneath you. My spirit abides in my crows. We are besieged by enemy spells. All around us traps wait to take any Bahiim who comes to protect this grove.”
Narsi’s entire body tensed at the idea of a body lying beneath him. Was it rude to sit on the dead, even after their spirits had left behind their remains? The ghost didn’t seem angry. She sounded resigned as she went on whispering in Narsi’s ear.
“I am sorry, Narsi Lif-Tahm, there is little shelter I can offer you. What strength I still possess I must conserve for the battle to come.”
“What battle?” Narsi asked.
“An old battle—a great battle begun in ages long past, but one that never truly ended. It can no longer be forestalled. The kings grow weak and their guardians no longer remember their calling. Songbirds tear apart the wards and the shroud will spread over us once more. This time it must be fought to the bitter end. It cannot be forestalled any longer.
“Oh, but child, this is no place for one such as you. Run from this place. Return to your mother and shelter beneath the oaks that blessed you.”
My mother is dead, Narsi thought. Despite his fear, he resented being told to run away and hide like he was a hapless child. For all the strangeness of the situation, it actually reminded Narsi of his aunt, fretting over him with the best of intentions but also the unspoken assumption that he was utterly hopeless and helpless.
“Travel warily, child, for the night is full of spies.”
The wind suddenly stilled. The shining letters darkened and fell across Narsi’s hands like ash falling from a fire. He jolted at the contact but felt no pain, just a lingering warmth. A moment later his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the night. He glanced up at the moon, then gazed around him. No sign of the crows remained, but across the small glade, near one of the tree trunks, a man’s silhouette rose up. Then it came striding toward him. Narsi rose to his feet.
How much had he seen? Anything was likely too much, Narsi realized, and he turned to make a fast retreat.
“You know I’ve been looking for you for hours now,” the man said, and Narsi stopped.
“Lord Vediya?” Narsi turned to peer into the gloom. Yes, that was Lord Vediya’s form. A distinct loose quality played through his steps. Even moving quickly, he conveyed an air of indolence.
“I wish you’d call me Atreau.” He stepped into the clearing and moonlight lit his lined face. He glanced around the circle of towering wisteria and his expression struck Narsi as genuinely troubled. “I thought I saw a light flickering up here.”
“You did,” Narsi whispered. “The sacred trees reacted to the Lady Hylanya’s necklace. And I think the Bahiim who guards—or guarded—the grove spoke to me from her grave.”
“I do want to know about this, but not now and not here.” Lord Vediya turned his attention to the street below them. “Who knows who else the lights might have attracted. We’d best move.”
Lord Vediya turned back the way he’d come up the hill and Narsi walked alongside him. Together they descended to a narrow alley and then followed several flights of worn stone stairs up onto a walkway that spanned a dark rippling stream. Moonlight shimmered across the water’s surface and lit the bare rocky banks.
Once they descended from the walkway they hastened along another series of alleys and raised walkways until Narsi caught sight of the large painted sign cut in the shape of a rotund goose. Just across the road stood the Green Door. Steam filled the windows and it looked as busy at this late hour as it had been in the morning. The scent of kaweh and wine drifted on the night breezes.
“You know, I had been counting on finding you here.” Lord Vediya didn’t make for the stable, as Narsi expected, but instead led him to the sturdy front door of the inn.
“Why?” Narsi replied. “We never agreed that I should come here.”
“But I showed you where it was,” Lord Vediya responded.
“You pointed out the Candioro Theater as well.”
“So I did, but I didn’t think that you’d be inclined to wander that far, much less join a public parade and then caper into the sacred grove.”
“Why shouldn’t I?” Narsi tried to sound reasonable but couldn’t keep from adding, “You hardly seemed concerned about where I went when Prince Jacinto sent me away.”
Lord Vediya paused and turned back to Narsi.
“It serves me not to show too much concern in front of men like Procopio. But that doesn’t mean—” Lord Vediya broke off. He cast a searching look back to the dark street behind them.
Narsi glanced back as well. He noticed two men lingering on the stoop of a theater entry and a dog padding around a corner, but otherwise the lane appeared largely deserted—though very distantly, Narsi could still hear the strains of music rising from the Shell Fountain. And then it seemed to him that one of the shadows lying across a staircase very slightly resembled a crouching man wearing a rabbit mask.
