Part 36 (2/2)
”And those . . . the ones placed at random . . . they represent the G.o.d with Two Faces.”
”The G.o.d of changing fortune?”
”Yes.” Xevhan gave him a hard look, then bowed his head as if in prayer. ”We cannot talk here. Come to my chamber.”
”He forbids me to see you alone again.”
”Lose the guards.”
”They follow me always.”
Xevhan glanced up, noting the guards who loitered just outside the courtyard. These two had been a.s.signed to him the morning after he recovered from the qiij. Keirith doubted Xevhan was the sort of man who noticed the faces of guards, but if he did, it would support his tale of Malaq's displeasure.
”I'm hosting an entertainment,” Xevhan whispered. ”After The Shedding. Find a way to attend.”
”But the Pajhit-”
”Find a way to attend.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Keirith noticed another priest approaching and bowed to Xevhan. ”Thank you, great Zheron, for your teaching.”
Xevhan nodded absently and left the courtyard with the other priest without a backward glance. At least, he was intrigued. Whether or not he could keep him intrigued was another matter. Now for the second part of his plan.
”I wish to speak with Khonsel Vazh do Havi,” he told his guards.
The older one shook his head. ”You don't want to be bothering the Khonsel.”
”Yes. Please. I do. Does the Pajhit forbid that I speak with him?”
”No, but-”
”Then please to take me there.”
The guards exchanged glances. The younger one shrugged. The older one frowned, but finally said, ”All right. But if you try anything foolish, I'll knock you flat, Son of Zhe or not.”
”That is fairness. Thank you.”
The guards led him up the narrow stairway built into the corner of the palace. He'd never been on this floor. Scribes carrying clay tablets edged past harried-looking men in khirtas who argued vociferously as they strode through the windowless corridor. Rectangles of light from the doorways stretched across the floor. Most of the small rooms held only fleece pallets, lined up with typical Zherosi precision on the floor. A few contained collections of spears and swords. Although there were guards posted outside, he noted their location all the same.
His guards paused outside a chamber where a line of men waited for admittance. Two men complained about the confusion. Another reminded them it was always this way right before The Shedding. Talk turned to the upcoming ceremony, but the men spoke too softly for Keirith to catch much of what they were saying. Clearly, they longed to witness the formal presentation after the rite, but that, apparently, was reserved for those with n.o.ble blood or a great deal of money.
When they finally made it to the doorway, Keirith saw the Khonsel bending over a wooden table. Half a dozen men were gathered around him, making the chamber seem even smaller than it was. All were staring with apparent fascination at the hide that lay stretched out on the table. The men wore amulets on their chests and bands of bronze around their biceps. Some bands were wider than others-a symbol of power, perhaps. Certainly, the two with the widest bands talked more than the others.
At one point, the Khonsel looked up. When their eyes met, he frowned and immediately returned to his examination of the hide. He jabbed his blunt finger at several places, talked briefly about ”a coordinated a.s.sault” and ”an overland sweep,” which made Keirith wonder if they were planning more raids on his people. Finally, the Khonsel rolled up the hide and thrust it at one of the wide-banded men. They all thumped their chests and bowed. Keirith dodged aside as they marched toward the doorway.
The older of his two guards bowed very low. ”Forgive this interruption, Khonsel, but the boy asked to speak with you.”
The Khonsel methodically cracked his knuckles. ”Leave us,” he said at last.
”Forgive me, great Khonsel, but the Pajhit has given us orders never to leave the boy unattended.”
”He won't be unattended. He'll be with me.”
”Great Khonsel-”
”Zhe's coils, he's not going to fly out the window. Wait outside.”
The guards bowed and backed away. The Khonsel nodded to a young man with a patch over his left eye. ”That's all, Geriv. Tell the Stuavo what we'll require.”
Bundling up the remaining hides that lay strewn across the table, Geriv quickly departed.
”Khonsel do Havi. Please to be listening-”
”Not here.”
Keirith followed him into the adjoining chamber. A well-worn rug lay in front of the sleeping shelf. A stool sat in one corner. The small window admitted little light at this time of day. The severity of the whitewashed walls was relieved only by a niche containing a vase with purple flowers. They seemed incongruous in the spartan setting-even more incongruous given what he knew of Vazh do Havi.
The Khonsel seated himself on the sleeping shelf. ”All right. Tell me. But keep your voice down.”
Keirith took a deep breath, praying his grasp of the Zherosi tongue would be adequate. He told the Khonsel what he had seen at the sacrifice. He told him about the qiij and the vision. He told him about his conversation with Malaq and his subsequent conversation with Xevhan. With such a man, he thought it unwise to try and hide anything.
Years of squinting into the sun had etched deep creases at the corners of the Khonsel's eyes and the heavy lids made him look half asleep, but there was nothing sleepy about the dark eyes boring into his as if they would pierce his spirit.
When he was finished, the Khonsel said, ”Tell me again. From the beginning.”
This time, when he completed his story, the Khonsel asked, ”Why did you come to me with this tale?”
”You are Malaq's-the Pajhit's-friend.”
”How would you know?”
”He does not eat with others. Only you. And you speak to him . . . it is different than others. Without the pretending.”
The Khonsel grunted. ”Did Malaq send you?”
”No. He says there is no danger.”
”Stubborn old fool.”
”Yes. No. I mean-”
”Why should you care if Malaq is in danger?”
”He is . . . kind to me.”
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