'We'll all be meeting back here once we've picked up our passengers,' Temellin explained to Brand and me. 'You two can stay here and wait for us.'
'Not alone,' Pinar said, her tone sharp.
'Garis can stay,' Temellin said. He nodded at the youth. 'Look after them.'
'Guard them,' Pinar amended.
Once only the three of us were left, Brand said in heavily accented Kardi, 'I don't think I like her very much.'
Garis laughed and answered in the same language. 'She is a little abrasive, isn't she? Desert sand in a storm. You might as well make yourselves comfortable; it will be a while before they are back.'
Taking his advice, Brand and I found a dry spot and sat down with qur backs against a rock to rest. Around us, drips of water play a syncopated tune as they hit pools and puddles. Conversation was desultory because none of us knew quite what to talk about. Finally, a bored Garis wandered off to the other side of the cavern where he started examining some of the glistening rock formations by the light of his sword. Brand and I were left sitting in near darkness.
'I'm sorry,' he whispered.
'Not your fault. What did Temellin say to you back in the house?'
¦¦ 'That I was to behave myself or he'd carve out my
balls. If I didn't give any trouble, he'd try to see that I ' kept both my head and my balls. He has a way with
words, this Temellin.' He gave a twisted smile and changed the subject. 'I gather it was you who killed the legionnaire yesterday?'
'He had no manners.'
'Thought it sounded like your handiwork. What did he do? Tread on your toes?'
'A little more than that. Besides, I thought if I killed a legionnaire, none of the Kardi would question my loyalties.'
'Goddess, but you can be a hard-hearted bitch, Ligea!'
I dropped my voice still further. 'Derya. And that's right. I'm a Legata Compeer of the Brotherhood, remember? Trained to kill when necessary.' But even as I said the words I felt uncomfortable. They reminded me too much of Rathrox Ligatan, and I no longer wanted to be equated with him. I stirred unhappily. I had infiltrated traitorous groups in disguise before, but this time something felt desperately wrong with what I was doing. I wondered why. Was it because I was Kardi too? Because I was Magor, as they were – whatever that meant? Because I had lain with one of their number and experienced something so sweet I would never be able to forget it?
'How do we get out of this one, Ligea?' Brand asked.
'Acheron take you, Brand, Deryal Call me Ligea in front of these people and you might just as well slit my throat.' I took a deep breath. 'Just behave yourself for the time being and hope Aemid keeps her mouth shut.' He was silent, so I asked, 'What did Garis do to you?'
'He put his left hand on my back, just a friendly clap in between the shoulder blades as though he was
an old friend. And I could hardly breathe. I was so damn weak I thought I was going to die. They scare me, L- Derya. When that cat Pinar came at me, with her hand upraised, I thought she was going to do the same thing. What are we dealing with here? They can't be – well, they can't be gods, can they?' He sounded as if he doubted his own sanity. 'Or immortals?'
My heart skittered uncomfortably. If they were gods or immortals, then so was I.
He added, 'They are going to question us. About Ligea. What she is doing here.' I thought he was going to ask me what he ought to say, but he didn't. Instead, he said, 'I won't tell any lies, Derya. Not to these people.'
I stared at him, a churning mass of thoughts whirling in my head, striving to deal with the fundamental change in our relationship. Brand was about to be free of his collar. Free to choose his allegiance.
'Will you betray me?' I whispered. The thought hurt more than I would ever have considered possible.
'Do you know me so little?' he asked, and I heard his bitterness. T will say nothing that will put you in danger, but I'll tell no lies to save the Exaltarchy or the Brotherhood, either. I'm free now, Derya, and I'll choose my own friends and allies.'
I was silent.
He added, 'Anyway, they know a lie for what it is the moment it's uttered, don't they?'
'Probably.' I stared at my palm, and had to resist the temptation to reach for my knife yet again. I would find out soon enough.
Garis came back to join us then, and we spoke of other things. Apparently the passengers Temellin had referred to were escaping slaves, a mass exodus of some one hundred Kardis who had been hiding out in
safe houses all over the city. We – the Magor – would lead them to safety in the Mirage.
'How long will it take?' I asked.
'A few days. And please don't ask me anything about the Mirage, because I don't know if I should tell you.'
I indicated the cavern. 'Can you tell us about this? Did you build these passages, this cavern?'
'A lot is natural. The rest was built by the people of Madrinya and the Magor. These were once underground cellars and coolrooms, storage rooms. When Madrinya fell to Tyrans, the underground portion of the city was hidden by the Magor who survived. We have used it ever since.'
I tried to extract more details, but he smiled and ' didn't reply.
Gradually people began to arrive in the cavern in groups.
The ordinary Kardis were too caught up in their own fears to be interested in us, but there were more Magor with them; even in among so many people I could sense that much. They came across and introduced themselves. They were friendly, but distant. I saw Pinar talking to some of them, doubtless warning them not to trust either Brand or me.
And then they were all moving, a river of people flowing through the dimness towards a new life, and we were caught up in the current. Attuned to their emotions, I felt their subdued jubilation, their suppressed excitement. I said to Brand, 'They are so happy! I don't think I've ever felt such joy from so many people all at once. It's – it's almost contagious.'
Beside me, Garis laughingly swooped down on a toddler who was giving his mother problems. 'Eh, now, none of that, my lad,' he said, and hoisted the boy
onto his back, where he eventually went to sleep, his head on Garis's shoulder.
His mother gave a sigh of relief. 'Many thanks, Magori,' she said. 'He's been a right proper handful with me since his Dad died, but he obeys smartly enough when the order comes from a man.' She was a short woman, her arms and legs balled with muscle, her torso thin. She was not wearing a slave collar, but then none of those around us were, either.
'Were you a slave?' I asked, curious.
'Oh, aye. Me and my man both.' She jerked a thumb at her son. 'He was born a slave. Don't seem right, do it, that someone can be born unfree? My man, he died a slave, and that don't seem right neither. He worked in the Master's stables, and a gorclak gored him. Took him three weeks to die, it did.' She looked at Garis with troubled eyes. 'My mother used to talk of the olden days when the Magor walked with us, and she said they were healers. Magori, could you have cured my man if we could have got him to you?'
Garis looked unhappy. 'I can't say. Perhaps not, if the injuries were very bad. All we have is the ability to hurry along the healing process. We can't work miracles, you know. But your man wouldn't have died in pain.'
The woman shook her head sadly. 'It will be good when the Magor rule our land once more. Don't let it be too long, Magori. We are tired of waiting.'
Brand bent to whisper in my ear. 'So much for all the things Tyrans offers: the peace, the trade, the stability, the prosperity. Take note, Derya: nothing is more important than being free. Free to choose one's own form of government, one's own way of living – or dying.'
Garis, who had caught the end of this, said with
* suppressed savagery, 'They will have it, and soon. We,,
too, are tired of waiting.'
I wanted to reply, to defend Tyrans. To defend a way of life. But I couldn't, not if I wanted to maintain my new identity. And I had an uncomfortable feeling that any argument I used would sound worn anyway. I thought sourly: They'd rather have anarchy and war than stability. They don't know how to rule themselves. They don't know when they are better off.