The Dragon Eater, page 12
part #1 of The Tharassas Cycle Series
A wave of sadness swept over her at the thought of her deceased mentor. She tapped her foot impatiently. “Isn’t there some kind of … I don’t know … manual to being a Hencha Queen?” Something I could read? Dor was kind enough, but the woman tended to be long-winded.
“No, mim. There are books about the Hencha Queens — how could there not be? But there’s no manual.” She drew herself up to her full height, still a half-head shorter than Silya. “I am your manual.” She sniffed.
Silya rolled her eyes. “I think one of the orinths got inside the Temple,” she muttered.
“What was that?” Sister Dor’s eyes narrowed, and her nose twitched as if she’d smelled the insult.
“Nothing, mim.” I’m as tired as an aur after rut. After the harrowing underground trek, she’d been washed and pampered by women who had been her superiors in the dorms just hours before, and then allowed three hours of sleep. And now she was being lectured. It was weird. Is this what it’s going to be like? Where were the lofty powers her new title implied? Her need to know warred with her exhaustion.
She looked around the Hencha Queen’s quarters. A heavy, blocky, beautifully polished oak table dominated the room, surrounded by equally imposing chairs. A dour, life-sized portrait of Yen’Ela, dressed in blue robes so dark they were almost indigo, stared down at her from the wall in disapproval.
Silya sought the hencha reflexively for the tenth time that hour, but there was no response in her head. Maybe it’s all been a mistake. Maybe the hencha had abandoned her again.
“Hold still, mim. I don’t want to poke you.” Sister Keh’Sel, the cheery temple seamstress, was busy taking Silya’s measurements with her spidery fingers, humming with pins held between her lips — as if she hadn’t done all of that before when Silya had first joined the Temple — and pricking her occasionally with said pins, despite her warning.
“Ouch!”
“Sorry, mim. You moved.” Sister Keh backed away to view her handiwork. “That should do it. They’re going to look marvelous on you.” She marked the cerulean blue cloth in several places with a charcoal pencil and unpinned the garment. Then she packed up her things and scurried out of the room, leaving Silya standing there in her undergarments.
Sister Dor put a hand on Silya’s shoulder in a way that was probably meant to be comforting, but just irritated Silya all the more. “I understand. You’re young — and you have much to learn before you go up against the old dogs on the Council, or even some of the sisters here who have come to enjoy the power they’ve had since Yen’Ela’s passing. You’re a fresh breeze in these stale old halls, but remember, right now you are Queen in name only. Genuine power has to be earned.”
That was becoming annoyingly clear. Silya growled under her breath as she pulled on her old purple initiate’s robe, which had been laundered and dried for her to wear until her new robes and other clothing had been resized to fit her frame. Yen’Ela had been a freakishly large woman, almost a head taller than Silya, by the cut of the robes. “I could just order all of you to leave me alone.” She glanced around the suite. It would give me a chance to do a bit of spring cleaning, and to chuck all this fancy dreck over the balcony.
Sister Dor laughed. She actually laughed! “Yes, dear. You could.” She patted Silya on the cheek.
Silya pulled away, annoyed at being glad-handed. “Still, I have been in the Temple for two years. There’s no need to treat me like a novice who —”
A sharp knock at the door cut her off.
“Yes?” Sister Dor frowned, the wrinkles on her forehead deepening.
“Breakfast for the Queen.” The voice sounded strange, but then again, everyone was stressed after the events of the night before.
Her aide opened the door. “Come in. I’m sure the Queen is starving.”
It swung open, and an initiate entered. Talk about freakishly tall. Her purple robes were too short for her lanky frame, and the hood was pulled down over her face.
Sister Dor didn’t seem to notice. “Go ahead then, mim. Eat something, then try to get some rest. Maybe it will put you in a better mood. We’ll have a chat later today about what happens next.”
“Yes, we will.” Silya grimaced. “And find me that manual!” She was far better at reading things than sitting for long-winded lectures.
Dor waved her off as she left the room, pulling the door closed behind her, still chuckling.
“Gods, that infuriating woman!” Silya pulled on the stretched cowl of her robe, searching the room for something she could throw. She turned to find the initiate staring at her from under the darkness of the cowl of her own. Her figure seemed familiar, but Silya couldn’t place her. “Just leave the food and go. I’m in no mood for company.”
“Yes, mim.” That strange voice again.
“I’m sorry. That was harsh.” I’m letting my temper get the best of me. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to be calm. She’d make no friends acting like this, and it sounded like she was going to need a lot of them. “Are you new? I don’t recognize you.”
The initiate looked around as if to be sure they were truly alone. “It’s me.”
Her voice was low for an initiate, though some girls were like that. Mirrel, for one, sounded like an urse with a head cold when she spoke. “Do I know you?”
The initiate pulled back her cowl.
“Aik!” She shrieked and threw herself at him, hugging him and laughing. “I can’t believe you’re here. I have never been so glad to see someone in my entire life.” At last, a friendly face. She was still mad at him for a hundred things, but after the last night … things had changed. They’d gone through something inexplicable together, and it had bonded them.
He grinned back. “I wasn’t sure. You’ve been angry at me for so long.”
“I’m not not angry.”
“Fair enough.” He smiled one of his damnable Aik smiles and around the room. “Nice place. Guess you’ve come up in the world.”
She let him go and turned away. “Still not sure if it’s an improvement. Everything’s different now. And I am still mad at you.” She took the tray from him and set it on the long dining table. “How is Raven? Have you seen him?” He was important to Aik, so he was important to her by extension, no matter how much the gully rat annoyed her.
Aik nodded, his eyes soft, almost aglow. “Rave’s managing. Scared. Sister Tela told him to get some sleep while she does a little research.”
She felt an unexpected wave of empathy for Raven, and that annoyed her too. “Sister Tela knows everything, and what she doesn’t know, she can find in the archives.” Including that manual, I hope.
“Yes, mim.” He was staring at her like she was an orinth on a pin.
“None of that. I’m still Silya to you, Aiken Erio.” Even in her old initiate’s robes, everyone treated her differently. “Am I understood?”
He blinked rapidly and gulped. “Yes, mim … yes, Silya.”
“Thank you. I need a little normal around here.” She squeezed Aik’s shoulder. It was good to have him close by, even with all the baggage between them. It was hard to stay angry with him — was that the hencha’s doing? She strode to the window, disturbed that her new position was even affecting her relationship with her friends. We’ll see about that.
The Hencha Queen’s quarters looked out at the four rectangular initiate dorms below, slightly distorted by the circular whorls in the individual panes of glass. Beyond the dorms, the rustling purple leaves of the hencha gathering were laid out in their neat rows. Initiates in their purple robes were busy harvesting berries, chattering among themselves, Probably about me.
Off to the left, at the edge of the gathering, Sal’Moya was leading another group of initiates, dressed in their fighting leathers, in sword practice with wooden blades.
Silya sighed. Her life before becoming the Hencha Queen — including the strange night with Aik and Raven — already seemed like another age. She was no longer one of those initiates. And yet she still felt like the same old Silya. I should be out there, harvesting berries or flashing swords.
In the distance, the spine narrowed to a point where the lighthouse had once stood. Pain squeezed her heart.
Somewhere downstairs, in the depths of the Temple, Daya’s body lay on a cold slab, being prepared for her final journey. Giving her mentor — her friend — to the hencha would be one of Silya’s first official acts.
Aik appeared next to her. He reached out to touch her cheek, his fingers slipping behind her ear in easy intimacy. “She was important to you?”
She pulled his hand away gently, though she was touched by the gesture. Of course he understands. Aik never thought about himself. He used to tell her what a lunkhead he was, but he was no fool, and he often saw things most others missed. “She was like a mother to me.”
“You have a mother.”
Silya grimaced, staring at the sunlight reflecting off the waters of the Elsp. She could just make out the neat rows of the houses of Landfield on the far side of the river, now that the morning fog had lifted. On the south bank of the river, several factories churned out noxious black smoke. “You’ve met Tri'Aya. Daya was more of a mother to me than she ever was. Or tried to be.”
“I always liked her.”
She wondered if he meant Daya, or Tri’Aya.
Aik looked away, the telltale signs of worry clear in the wrinkles at the edge of his eyes. He was holding something back. Maybe whatever secret he and Raven had been keeping the night before? Still, she knew better than to push him. He’ll tell me when he’s ready.
Silya changed the subject. “Is there really food on that tray? I’m starving.”
Aik stared at the table, looking flummoxed. “Oh … yes. Verla sent me up with it, the better to sneak into your quarters.”
Silya laughed, not at all surprised that the cook had insisted on dropping the “mim” too. “Ah, that explains the robe. It suits you.”
“I could get used to it. It’s very comfortable.” He scratched at his neck. “Seriously, how do you wear these? They’re itchy as aur hair.”
“You get used to it.”
“Maybe.” He pulled the purple robe up over his head and deposited it over the back of one of the chairs. “You need better security around here. If I could walk right in —”
“Maybe so. Would you … stay for a while and help me set things up?”
Aik brightened. “I’d be happy to —”
“Don’t you dare say ‘mim’.”
“— Silya.”
“Good. I’ll notify the Guard that I’ve decided to borrow you for a bit.” She added it to her mental list, which was starting to get a bit unwieldy.
“I … I don’t think that’s how it works …”
“I’m the Hencha Queen now. It works how I say it works.” She regretted those words as soon as they came out of her mouth.
Aik stared at her. “Yes, mim.”
Silya sighed, but this time she didn’t correct him. “For now, I’ll put word out that you and Raven are exceptions to the ‘no men’ rule. It’s about time some things changed around here.”
Aik flashed her a sly grin. “Just don’t change the berry tarts. Verla has those down pat.”
Silya laughed. “I won’t.” She gave him a once-over. “Where’s your uniform? You look like a farmer.” The white shirt and dark blue breeches were loose on him, clearly meant for a man twice his girth and a dozen centimeters shorter.
“Verla’s having it cleaned. They gave me these instead.” He gestured at the rough hencha-cloth garments. “Carel got them out of the costume room.”
“Ah. So you’re Farmer Number Two.”
Aik laughed. “I guess so. And you’re Hencha Queen Number One?”
Silya growled but didn’t dignify that with a response. The tray of food was calling her. “Come, sit. Let’s eat.”
“She won’t get in trouble for it, will she?” Aik took a seat across the wide table from her, sparking memories she thought she’d gotten over.
How many breakfasts had they enjoyed together in his little basement flat, down on Redhawk Spine? Silya pushed them aside. “Verla? I doubt it. She runs the kitchen like her own personal fiefdom. Most of the Sisterhood would sooner dare an eircat’s den than tussle with her.” Silya lifted the cover off the meal and was delighted to see two of Verla’s famous berry tarts waiting for her. Through a mouthful of warm berries and flaky pastry, she asked, “Tell me more about Raven?” It would be a pleasant distraction, and besides, she needed an update on the thief’s condition.
“He’s … all right. His forearms look like something burned them.” The pain in his voice when he spoke about his friend tugged at her. She stared at the plate, wishing for a second that she were anywhere but here, free of her new responsibilities. Then her hunger got the better of her, and she took a wedge of pink cheese and shoved it in her mouth. It was just hunger, the hole gnawing at her insides.
Aik was doing his nervous thing, cracking his knuckles to relieve the tension.
“What? Out with it.” She was losing patience with his deference. “I’m still the same old Silya. You don’t have to treat me like the godsdamned Hencha Queen. At least not in private.”
Aik shook his head, his cheeks flushing, “It’s not that. It’s just …”
“Spit it out.”
“Raven sent me to look for his things.”
She almost laughed out loud. It was so like the little thief. “The man swallows a mysterious creature, gets chased out of his lair by a quake, and all he’s worried about are his things?”
“He lost his home and had this horrible thing happen to him. He’s just trying to hold on to what’s left.” Aik stared at her, his features hard. “You grew up rich. You wouldn’t understand.”
She’d never considered herself rich. Not like the folk down on Peregrine Spine, with their mansions and formal gardens. Though Tri’Aya does have a place there. “Enlighten me.”
Aik swallowed hard. “Those things are his entire life. He lost his home. He has no money, no family. Just his belongings that he’s … collected over the last few years. Without those …”
You were about to say ‘stole,’ weren’t you? She put up her hands, palms out in surrender. “I’m sorry. You’re right. He must be scared.” You always knew when to set me straight.
“He is, but you know Raven — he hides his fear with bluster. He’d sooner lose a hand than admit he was afraid.”
She looked around the room, filled with fine furnishings and expensive clothes. The artwork alone was probably worth half of the money in the Council treasury. Talk about things. She didn’t like any of them — well, the table wasn’t bad — but she supposed the feeling of wealth and luxury they conveyed served a purpose.
Aik was staring at the feast like a man who hadn’t eaten in a week. “May I?”
“Sweet mother of Jas, yes, there’s more here than I could eat in three days. Didn’t they give you anything in the kitchen?” The tray was filled with fruits and meat and bread and a piping hot bowl of soup. She’d have a word with Sister Dor about such blatant waste, especially when there were people in the streets with nothing to eat.
“Yes, but I’m still hungry.” Aik dug in, and together they filled themselves on the bounty from the Temple kitchens.
Silya took the soup for herself. She inhaled the savory aroma and took a sip — the broth was spicy and full of flavor, chopped bits of grayleaf spicing up the purple gully fowl meat. It warmed her heart and soul. Verla was a treasure.
There were sweet grapes from the small vineyard along the southern edge of the Temple, just beyond the practice field — the first grapes of the fall. Also a loaf of fresh-baked sourdough bread, some tart yellow hencha berries, and a few pieces of cured aur meat. She finished up the last of it, feeling a bit gluttonous. Hungrier than I thought. “Raven’s things are here, by the way.”
Aik looked up, eyes wide. “Where?” His excitement was infectious.
Silya laughed, truly glad he had come. He was a friend, an anchor to her old life, no matter what else had passed between them before. “In the bedroom closet. This place is huge. Want the grand tour?”
“Sure.” Aik looked around the Hencha Queen’s quarters. “I still can’t believe it’s true. You’re really her.”
You and me both. “I know. It’s so strange.” She’d all but given up on her dream, convincing herself she didn’t really want to rule the Temple. Now here she was, and that dream was turning into a nightmare of protocol, politics, and pomp and circumstance.
And yet, since the Hencha Queen’s initial arrival in her head, everything had gone quiet inside. I still feel like boring old Silya. Did you judge me and find me lacking? She shrugged. Nothing she could do about it now. “Come on. I’ll show you around.”
Aik got up dutifully and followed her out of the receiving room.
The white-washed quarters were on the highest level of the Temple. They were modest compared to the mansions on the slopes of Heaven’s Reach, but next to her cot in the initiate’s dorm, they represented sheer luxury. The black marble floor tiles led into the bedroom, where a four-poster bed big enough to sleep half the initiates held court over a fine assortment of furniture made from violet pine. There was a grandfather clock, two nightstands, a chair with a marble washbasin and mirror, and a warm, fluffy white mountain ix rug at the bedside.
On the wall next to the bed, a portrait of Jas’Aya, the first Hencha Queen, stared at Silya as if she were judging her newest successor. Her rooms were full of dour-faced monarchs, but Jas’s portrait was different, full of life, almost smirking. How did you get away with that? “Think she would have approved?”
“I’m sure of it.” Aik’s took in the overwrought decor. “It’s so … not you.”
Silya laughed. “It really isn’t, but it isn’t her, either. It was all built after her reign. When she was here, the Temple was a simple wooden two-story home. It burned down in the fire of 313.” She showed him the bathroom, a luxurious affair with a deep marble tub and silver faucet. The tub was raised so she could see out of the window when she bathed.
