Of Absence, Darkness, page 11
“If I were you, I’d be angry,” Daniel admitted.
For a moment, Tenai's eyes hardened and seemed to glint like metal. “Oh, yes. I am indeed angry. But I know very well Mitereh Encormio-na has not earned my anger. I shall save that for my enemies ... and his, as seems likely.”
Daniel nodded.
Tenai went on, her tone now thoughtful. “Many, many years have passed since I last owned a master. Any master but Lord Death. A very long time.” She met Daniel's eyes. “But I owned you, Doctor. Not with the fealty Mitereh would have of me, certainly. Still, no. I do not have so much pride that I must set it as a bridge over an ocean of blood. You were wise to ask me that. I think Mitereh will be wise. He does seem so, to me. He was wise to leave me Chaisa.”
“After he got your oath.”
“He does know his own mind.” Tenai seemed to approve of this. “I think you will find Mitereh certainly finds a place in his household for you, a place of honor. Likely he will elevate you. You have no estate, and he is not likely to grant you that. But likely he will set you among the ranks of nobility.”
“There’s an odd thought.” It was definitely odd. But Daniel thought that sounded just as well—for Jenna’s sake especially. If those kinds of rankings existed here, he wanted Jenna high enough up that she’d be safe. Safer. Though he knew she wouldn’t take anything about that very seriously.
“I think you will find Mitereh is curious. About you.” She gave him a close look. “About me.”
“Doctor-patient privilege. Plus the privilege of friendship.” Which he’d just made up on the spot, but was willing to solemnly invoke if necessary. “I won't discuss you with him, Tenai.”
Tenai nodded, smiling, but she said, “This is not your gentle America, Daniel. I think Mitereh will respect your loyalty. Press his patience as far as you think fit, this would please me; but if you must protect yourself, by all means do so, and trust me that I will protect myself.”
“All right.”
“I think this young man will not take that turning, Daniel. I do think not. Bloodlust is not what brought him into my house—” There were footsteps outside in the hall, and Tenai broke off. Jenna came in, and Emelan behind her. Jenna came directly to Daniel and put an arm around his waist, tucking herself close to his side. Daniel hugged her, hard, trying to put confidence into that gesture.
Emelan gave a small bow, saluting Tenai. He looked like one of the regular house guards: thinner than he should be, but now resembling a soldier far more than a brigand. He wore the house uniform as though already accustomed to it. His beard had been shaved off, and his newly-trimmed hair had been braided and clubbed at the nape of his neck. He looked younger now that he was better groomed—Daniel thought he might be closer to thirty than to his first guess of forty. Still, for all the improvements, Daniel thought he would have still been able to pick the man out of any lineup by the uncertainty hidden in his eyes.
Tenai said, “Beres told you what passed?”
“Yes, Nolas-e. I will ask ... Nolas-e, permit me to remain in Chaisa. I do ask you. I should not—it should not be I whom you choose to accompany you—”
Tenai dismissed this request with a slight gesture. “What lies in the past, lies there. You are my man now. I expect you to make yourself a new history.”
“Yes,” said Emelan, but looking distinctly like he would have wished to make it No.
“Well?”
The man lowered his head, took a breath, and lifted his gaze again to meet her eyes. “Keitah—Keitah Terusai-e will know me. I do fear so. Even if it has been years. Even if no one else should. And he would know me for an oath-breaker, Nolas-e. Forgive my presumption to ask whether you will want it known what you have brought into your house—”
Tenai made a dismissive gesture. “I am not accustomed to allowing my decisions to be questioned. By Keitah Terusai-e or anyone else. Set your mind at rest, Emelan no-man’s-son. You may be certain that if I attach you to my company, I shall not look for shame to come of it, whatever is known or not known.”
Emelan said nothing.
“Go. Inform Beres he is to see to your kit. Choose a horse from the stables. Grey or black. Then wait for me in the yard.”
Emelan hesitated. Then he went to one knee. He said, with the air of a man forced against his will, “Nolas-e, forgive my impudence to ask again—”
“When I have already made my decision known?” Tenai said with sharp impatience. “This is indeed impudence. No. Enough. I am unconcerned with the opinion of Terusai-e, or Nerinesir entire. Nor do I permit you to concern yourself with either. Earn my regard, and I assure you, no other opinion need signify.”
Daniel thought that Emelan might protest again. The man drew in his breath as though he would speak. But then he only let his breath out again and got to his feet. His expression was hard to read, his face blank, all thought and emotion hidden. He bowed again, and went out without another word.
“Will he be all right?” Daniel asked her in a low voice, looking after the man once he was gone. He was disturbed by Emelan’s evident distress, and more disturbed at Tenai’s apparent indifference.
“I must trust that he will,” Tenai answered. Her tone was quiet. She glanced at Daniel and opened a hand in a gesture like a shrug. “He is ashamed of his past. As well he should be. But I have seen shamed men before. You will agree with me, I think: there is no way out of that shame save to go forward. A man cannot hide from the world forever. The longer he is permitted to hide, the more difficult it will be to come out into the light. And he will likely be hard-used if I leave him here: curs off the road are not easily granted honor by honorable men.”
Daniel nodded. “All right. Yes, you’re probably right.”
“I think I am. Now. Jenna.” Tenai turned to young woman. “Are the horses ready, child? My kit, and yours, and your father’s? My household?”
“Enera said she would have everything in the courtyard before you got there, Tenai.”
“Good.” Tenai's eyes rested on Jenna’s face for a moment. “You are not afraid?”
Jenna lifted her chin. “Not me, Tenai. Not much! I trust you. I’m looking forward to meeting the king. Melesa says he’s very handsome.”
Daniel choked, but Tenai smiled, much of her chilly distance disappearing. “So he is. Likely married. Never yet in the history of the world has a king come to his twenty-seventh year unmarried. His advisors would never permit such a thing.”
“Oh, well,” Jenna said philosophically.
“He will admire you, nonetheless,” Tenai predicted. She was still smiling. “He will be greatly taken with you, my bright child. All his young men will be. You will come among them as a golden cat among—”
“Hounds?” Jenna interrupted, laughing.
“Mice, bright child. Assuredly a golden cat among so many mice. If you feel out of place, remember that you are beautiful as a rare bird. Your coloring is sweet as the sunrise; your face catches the eye with its unique beauty. All the young men of the court will fall in love with you. All the women will watch your steps with envy.”
“If you say so.” Jenna was still laughing.
His daughter, Daniel saw, was pleased and excited and ready to be reassured. But she hadn’t been present for that excruciating interview with the king. Daniel was very certain that young man would never, ever forget for one second that his foreign guests were important to Tenai. He was positive Mitereh Sekuse-go-e—Mitereh Encormio-na—would never lose sight of the possibilities inherent in that kind of connection.
For a moment the world seemed to shiver with unseen threat. Daniel longed to turn and beg Tenai to find some way to keep them here in Chaisa, immured safely away from this dangerous land, until midwinter arrived and they could run back to a sane and civilized country that had no kings and no hidden enemies and no bloody history come to life around them. But he said nothing. The moment for that particular cowardice had passed.
*
The courtyard seemed crowded, with men and women and horses everywhere. But Daniel noted that all of the men were Chaisa soldiers. All the women were women of Tenai's household. Outside the gates there might be a crowd around the king, but it was quite clear that no one of that gathering but the king himself had dared Tenai's house. Or would that be Mitereh's own act of sensibility?
Tenai appeared. She was wearing black—black shirt and trousers, black vest, black boots. She ought to be terribly hot in this weather in that outfit, but she looked cool and comfortable. Possibly her oath to Lord Death made her immune from heatstroke as well as crossbow bolts; Daniel wouldn’t have bet against that. Her hair had been fixed back in an intricate braid that swayed when she walked. She stood with a hand on the hilt of her black sword, as naturally as though she had never spent a moment of her life without a sword at her hip. She looked tall and dangerous and every bit like she belonged to this world.
A girl led up a horse for Tenai: a black mare, neat-footed and delicately boned, with black ribbons braided into its mane and tail and crystals set into the fittings of its tack.
Emelan, pale and strained, rode up on a gray gelding. He was leading another gelding, also gray, for, Daniel presumed, himself. Galt, looking worried, was there, on the outskirts of the little group, listening. Penon stood beside him, one hand on the younger man's arm in a gesture of support or restraint.
Tenai said to Penon, with all the formality that seemed customary in this country, “I have trust in the officers of my household. You will do very well.”
Penon bowed in response. “Have you orders, Nolas-e?”
Tenai met his eyes, and Galt's. “Follow your inclinations and you will have no reason to fear my return. Which I do expect, in rather less than sixteen years.”
The young man bowed without speaking, but Daniel thought there was less tension in his face.
Tenai laid a hand on her mare's neck and swung, graceful as a dancer, into the saddle. Jenna jumped up on her own horse. Hers wasn’t a gray. It was a lovely golden animal that Daniel was certain had been chosen to complement his daughter’s own fair coloring. It seemed an unnecessarily tall horse, but Jenna was effusive in her delight with it.
Smothering a smile, he heaved himself up onto his plainer horse. He made it into the saddle on his own, but it took two tries and wasn’t graceful at all, so, well, he had to hope that in fact no one had been watching.
Tenai swept a look across Daniel and Jenna and Emelan once they were all mounted. “Be proud,” she reminded them. “Represent yourselves with pride. This is a show, and we are all players in the light; but we choose our own lines. Remember it.”
“I'm a doctor, dammit, not an actor,” Daniel said. He wasn’t quite joking, but he said it under his breath so no one else would hear him. Then he followed Tenai, as she led them all out her gate.
It was, indeed, a show.
Tenai set her black mare into a brisk trot and led them out through the gates of her house without any glance back to see if they were following. She looked straight ahead, like any Evil Warrior Queen from any made-for-TV fantasy movie Daniel had ever seen, but carrying it off a lot more effectively. Jenna rode directly behind her. She was nervous and excited, but plainly determined to carry everything off with flair. Daniel might be biased, but he thought his daughter carried her central role off well.
Daniel hoped merely not to look too ridiculous. He rode next to Emelan, who had covered probable nervousness with a thin-lipped calm. Daniel made a deliberate effort to keep his face as blank as Emelan’s.
The king had his two hundred men drawn up in order outside Chaisa's gates: soldiers, a lot of soldiers; and a few men with different dress and manners. Nobles, probably. The king's advisors, most likely. The soldiers stood in long ranks with Mitereh himself and his nobles at the end of the line, waiting for Tenai. Daniel knew without turning his head that Chaisa's walls would be just as crowded with Tenai's people. It was a longish way to ride, on display like this. No problem for Tenai, but a test for the rest of them.
For so many men, there was remarkably little sound. No one spoke, or coughed, or sneezed. Tenai rode straight up to the king, who stood with his nobles to one side and his banner to the other and waited for her. Everyone else followed her. When she halted her horse, when they all halted theirs, the tense hush deepened.
For a long, long moment Tenai just sat there in the saddle, looking the king in the face. He looked back. Neither of them had any more expression than carven statues.
Then she swung her leg over her horse's shoulder and slid to the ground. She walked forward, the few steps necessary to bring her to the king. She stood there for another heartbeat, looking at him eye-to-eye. Nearly of a height. Both tall and slim; both with dark coloring and even, angular features; both proud. The king was twenty-seven. Tenai was four hundred years plus, but since her years didn't exactly show, they might have been brother and older sister.
Then she took Gomantang from her belt, still sheathed, and knelt. She made that a neat and graceful gesture, going down on one knee and offering the young king her sheathed sword, lifted in both hands in a dramatic gesture of surrender. She did not bow her head, but looked up into his face.
A sigh went through the observers: both the king's men and Tenai's people, like a wind through branches. For another long moment, they held that scene. Then the king reached forward with one hand to touch her sword. He did not take it, but only rested his hand there, on the sheath between Tenai's hands. He said, his voice not loud but pitched to carry, “Tenai Ponanon Chaisa-e, are you mine?”
Daniel could see no anger at all in her neck, her back. This is a show, she had said, and she had meant it. She said in a clear voice, “Yes, my king. I yield my loyalty and my honor into your hands, Mitereh Sekuse-go-e.”
The king lifted the sword. Tenai let it go with perfect equanimity. For a moment, the king held the sword up, so everyone could see it. Then he drew it. Light slid greasily along the black blade. It seemed to Daniel that smoke might drift from the sword as it was drawn, though he couldn’t be certain. Turning it in his hand, the king brought the blade down, gently, to rest along Tenai's shoulder, next to her neck. She didn’t move.
“Are you mine?” he asked a second time. Again, he let his voice carry.
Tenai answered, “My life belongs to Lord Death, to God, and to you.”
The king lifted the sword. He said, “You have put me to some trouble, Tenai Ponanon Chaisa-e, in your return and in your retreat into Chaisa. You should have come to me in Nerinesir. You may beg my pardon.”
Tenai didn't even blink. “I beg your pardon, my king.”
Mitereh stood there, Tenai's black sword in his hand and no expression at all on his face. He said, “You may bow by my feet.”
Daniel blinked, and controlled his own expression. Jenna, just in front of him on her little mare, hissed between her teeth, but that was all. Emelan didn’t react, as far he could see.
After the very briefest pause, Tenai went from one knee to both. She bent, placing one hand flat on the ground for balance, and touched her forehead to the ground by the king’s boot. She stayed there, holding that pose. For a long moment, the king let her. At last he lifted the black sword, naked in his hand, and held it poised for an instant. He brought it down fast in a blow that went past Tenai's unguarded neck to strike against the ground with a ringing sound that seemed unreasonably loud for metal against earth. Tenai did not even flinch, but Mitereh’s mouth tightened and his eyes narrowed.
Then he said, his tone level, “I grant you pardon.” There was absolute silence from the audience. Daniel found he was holding his breath and let it out; around him, he rather thought he heard other people doing the same.
Tenai, face composed, straightened again to kneeling. The king sheathed the sword and turned it to rest point-down on the ground. He offered Tenai his hand, Daniel thought at first to help her stand, but she kissed it instead in a gesture of fealty.
“You may stand,” the king said after that, quietly.
Tenai rose.
The king gave her sword back to her. She took it, expressionless, and hooked it back on her belt.
For the first time, the king turned a look on the men around him, gathering their attention with his eyes. It was hardly necessary. No one was looking anywhere but at him and at Tenai. Bringing his gaze back to her, the king said with curt decision, “We will leave for Nerinesir immediately. Mount. You will ride last, Chaisa.” He turned away and put out a hand, and a man brought up a horse and put the reins in his hand.
Tenai stood still, face calm, while the king mounted and rode out. He went without a backward look. There were plenty of looks from other men: from the young king's nobles, from the soldiers. Sidelong and uncomfortable, most of those glances. Daniel, taking his cue from Tenai, waited, trying to look unconcerned. Only when the last of the soldiers had passed did Tenai move, lifting herself back into the saddle and sending her horse after them.
Riding through the village was a different experience at the tail-end of a bunch of soldiers. People still bowed and stared, but it wasn't the same. Daniel felt his face heat: he was embarrassed, he diagnosed. And he knew it was a play. Drawing a breath, he guided his horse past Enera's and up to Tenai's side.
She gave him a curt nod. “Daniel.”
“Are you all right? Was that all right? Was that what you expected?”
She smiled. Her expression was a little stiff, but not angry. They were just past the village and riding past the rolling pastures. Dust kicked up by the horses ahead of them hung in the heavy air. “I told you he would press me,” Tenai said in a quiet voice, not to carry to the men ahead of them, Daniel understood that. “So he did. But he did well. He understands how to hold the eye. He has skill, this young king. Everyone was impressed, I have no doubt of that. But you may be easy. He challenged my pride a little there, but he will not press me too hard, Daniel. I do think not.”
Daniel let out a breath. “All right. You did expect all that business, then.”
