Dream of Inunru!
The strange man—the Prince of Gujaareh—laughed good-naturedly at the look of horror on Nijiri’s face, then waved a hand at Rabbaneh. “Stop that. I put aside the Aureole so I could walk among my people for a while without all that foolishness.”
Rabbaneh rose and adopted the more traditional bow of respect instead. He was still smiling as he straightened. “You must forgive me, my lord. I meant only to model the proper behavior for Nijiri. His actions reflect upon the whole Hetawa now, and especially my path.”
“Oh, he was perfectly polite, Rabbaneh. A credit to his Teachers.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Nijiri said. To his great relief he did not stammer, though he could not have vouched for the volume or pitch of his voice in that moment. He quickly bowed over his free hand, not trusting himself to manuflect without falling over. His hands shook so badly that Rabbaneh’s drink sloshed and splashed in its cup. Rabbaneh reached over and deftly plucked the cup away before Nijiri could stain his robe.
“Nijiri.” The Prince seemed to mull over the name. “Too pale to be shunha, too humble for zhinha. Were you common-born?”
“My lord.” Rabbaneh smiled in a gentle reprimand even as Nijiri opened his mouth to say, “Yes.” To Nijiri’s surprise, the Prince chuckled.
“Oh fine, fine. You priests.” He stepped closer, and Nijiri nearly started as the Prince reached up to take his chin between two fingers. “You’re a fine-looking boy. It’s a good thing your birth-caste no longer applies, whatever it was. You might have been sold in marriage to some wealthy, influential widow—or if you were lowcaste, someone would have made a pleasure-servant of you.” He ran a thumb over Nijiri’s lips and this time Nijiri did start in spite of himself, though he mastered the reflex to pull away in time. The Prince smiled, his eyes narrowing in amusement. Then—to Nijiri’s intense relief—he let go.
“Sonta-i is your mentor?”
“Ehiru, my lord.”
“Ehiru?” The Prince’s eyebrows rose in impressive arches—though strangely, Nijiri had the sense that he was not surprised at all. “He’s not the seniormost.”
Rabbaneh coughed into one hand. “My lord, Hetawa matters…”
“Ah yes. Bad manners again. Do not take me as an example of proper behavior, Nijiri. Old men take more liberties than young men can get away with.” He tilted his head in a self-mocking bow. “Another time, Gatherer-Apprentice.”
With that, the Prince turned away and wandered into the crowd, which parted before and closed behind him like water. In his wake, Nijiri exhaled a long breath and closed his eyes in a brief prayer of thanks. Rabbaneh waited politely for him to finish.
“Rabbaneh-brother, I have shamed the Hetawa. I did not recognize—”
“I know you didn’t.” For once, the older Gatherer was not smiling. That made the knots in Nijiri’s stomach tighten still further. But Rabbaneh was gazing after the Prince. “He knew you, though.”
Nijiri faltered to confused silence. After a moment Rabbaneh sighed and flashed a slightly strained smile at Nijiri. “You didn’t shame the Hetawa, boy. Ehiru, Sonta-i, and I have taken turns shadowing you all evening. You handled the Prince well enough, and Meliatua before him.” He assessed Nijiri then in a long glance. “You look tired.”
“I—” Nijiri wavered, torn between the truth and pride. An apprentice should at least try to manage a full Gatherer’s responsibilities, and Hamyan Night was only half over. But the combined stresses of the evening—the processional through Gujaareh’s streets, the crowd, the Sister, the Prince—had drained him. He wanted nothing better than to go back to his quiet cell in the Hetawa and be lulled to sleep by the night-breezes.
Rabbaneh’s hand settled on his shoulder and squeezed reassurance. “There’s no shame in it, Nijiri. You were a sheltered acolyte only an eightday ago, after all. Go back to the Hetawa. You’ve satisfied protocol.”
Nijiri could not deny his own relief, but guilt remained. “Ehiru-brother will expect—”
“I’ll find him and tell him how well you’ve done.” The older Gatherer’s smile filled him with warm pride, and shyly Nijiri smiled back.
“Thank you, Rabbaneh-brother. I will have good dreams tonight.” He turned to leave, pausing as he hunted for the shortest path through the crowd to the palace gate. It was only because he hesitated that he heard Rabbaneh’s reply.
“Dream them while you can, little brother.”
When he turned back, Rabbaneh had gone.
6
In dreams did Hananja bestow knowledge upon Inunru, a man of the sonha. “There is power in dreams,” She told him. “Harness it and therein lies magic. But only virtuous men may wield it.” Thus did Inunru bring forth narcomancy, and for a time all people rejoiced.
Ehiru had been watching the Prince’s children for nearly an hour when Rabbaneh found him. Most of the children had not noticed him standing just beyond the overlapping circles of torchlight around the throne pavilion. One of them, however—a handsome lad of perhaps seven—occasionally peered into the shadows that cloaked Ehiru, squinting and frowning as if he sensed something he couldn’t quite see.
“I sent Nijiri home,” Rabbaneh said. He kept his voice low; it was habit for both of them when in the dark. “He was beginning to get the look of a taffur that’s been hunted too long.”
“Mmm. He lasted longer than I did at my first public affair.”
“You never learned to master tactful speech. That apprentice of yours is at least circumspect. Too much so, really; still too much the servant-caste, despite his pride.” Rabbaneh sighed. “I hope he grows out of it soon.”
“We are servants, Rabbaneh. Perhaps we should learn from Nijiri’s example.”
Rabbaneh glanced at him oddly; Ehiru noted this out of the corner of his eye. “Are you still troubled over that Bromarte, Brother? It’s been an eightday.”
“I destroyed a man’s soul.”
“I know that. But even the gods aren’t perfect—”
Ehiru sighed. “That boy has the dreaming gift.”
“—What?”
Ehiru nodded toward the child on the pavilion steps, who seemed to have given up the search for the moment. “That one. I noticed it as soon as I saw him.”
Rabbaneh shifted impatiently. “Then notify the Superior so he can lay claim to the child. Ehiru—”
“The Superior knows. I saw him offer greetings to the Prince not long after the processional arrived. The child was watching a moth, oblivious to the world around him. Even the blindest layman could have seen that he was halfway to Ina-Karekh in that moment.”
Rabbaneh sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “The Superior must consider what is best for Gujaareh, not just the Hetawa. We cannot make the Prince appear subservient while Kisuati trade associations threaten embargo.”
“I understand that very well, Rabbaneh. But it makes the situation no less offensive.” He folded his arms and saw the boy on the pavilion steps peer sharply into the shadows again, perhaps catching some hint of the motion. “A child of true potential will be left undedicated and untrained. He’ll grow up to become just another highcaste servant subject to the whims of the next Prince. If he grows up.”
“Is that what might have happened to you?” Rabbaneh glanced at him sidelong, with an air of daring. They had all learned not to ask him many questions about his past. “If the Hetawa had not claimed you?”