The secretary left him in a room filled with couches and ornate chairs, directing him to sit and relax. Kelis eyed a couch, draped with zebra skins. He did not sit. Instead, he moved out onto the balcony and sucked in the salt-tinged air. The Inner Sea stretched out to the horizon, the green waters dotted with sailing vessels of all sizes and shapes. In the distance great trading barges sat on the water, looking like oddly geometric islands. Leaning on the railing, Kelis took in the sweep of the harbor below, the coastline crowded with rank upon rank of white-roofed buildings. The structures were built so tightly together they looked like a throng jostling to tilt themselves into the mirror that was the sea.
How many people lived in this city? Kelis had no idea. Likely, the number would mean little to him anyway. How very different it was from a village like Umae, where he could name every adult, and every child could name him. That was the size of community that felt right to him. He wondered again why Sangae had summoned him here.
"The harbor of Bocoum on a summer's day," a man's voice said, startling Kelis. He turned and saw a man of about his age, richly dressed in an ankle-length blue robe, approaching him. "It is magnificent, don't you think?"
"Yes," Kelis said. It was not exactly a lie but close.
"Good." The man smiled. His face was handsome and broad featured in the way of northern Talayans. He was as tall as Kelis, lean as well, although somewhat more bulkily muscled around the chest and shoulders. He was not a runner. He was fit in a different way and carried himself with confident grace. Seeming to remember formality all at once, he bowed his clean-shaven head. He said, "New friend, the sun shines on you, but the water is sweet."
"The water is cool, new friend, and clear to look upon," Kelis answered. The words came to his lips automatically.
"It would be nice if these words were true, wouldn't it? Sometimes I fear our greetings have mostly to do with what we wish the world was and little to do with how it actually is." Considering the luxury of the building they were in, Kelis wondered what this man had to complain about. "I am Ioma. Sinper Ou is my father. In his name I welcome you, Kelis of Umae. My father and Sangae will be here shortly, along with the one we would have you meet." He gestured toward the tray a servant had just laid on a small table. "Please, drink."
The clear glass pitcher contained a chilled juice, frozen enough that it clunked as the servant poured some into a glass. Kelis held the tumbler in his hand, watching the vapor rise off it. He had no idea how they managed to cool it so. Nor did he wish to ask. He touched it to his lips and sipped. It was too cold, unnaturally so.
"It is a wonderful view, isn't it?" Ioma asked. "Our ancestors looked out upon this harbor for generations before the Acacians planted their first fort on Acacia. Whether or not Acacia chooses to remember this fully is another matter, but we should not forget. That's even more important now. See over there?" The merchant extended his robed arm and pointed.
It only took Kelis a moment to pick out the structures he was indicating. Lower down the cliffs, near the eastern rim of the bay, was a conglomeration of large, richly painted buildings with garish spires like plump, sparkling red bulbs of garlic.
"The King's Academy." Ioma said the official name with disgust. "Should be called the queen's institute for the forgetting."
"You don't care for it, then?"
Ioma nudged him in the shoulder. It was an act of familiarity that would have seemed rude had his host not made it so casually. "Do not joke with me, friend. You know the purpose of that place? It's not education at all. It's limitation. They say they pick the brightest students from each of the provinces. So why is it that those 'brightest' students always happen to be children of prominent families? Why do the children get selected even when the parents have not offered them for consideration? I know you serve the Akarans; I don't wish to make an enemy of you." He paused as if considering how at risk of that he was, and then shrugged and went on. "But you're Talayan as well. That place is a hostage camp. First and foremost, those children are hostages. Second, their minds are scrubbed clean of the truth and filled with the history of the world as Corinn wishes them to know it. Two of my nephews and a niece attend, a cousin also. They tell me all about it. At least it's here in Bocoum. That's something. My family members are hostages only during the day. At night we are free to uneducate them."
Kelis did not say anything, a fact Ioma acknowledged by pursing his lips. "Perhaps I speak too freely. You see, Kelis, I feel already I know you. But I see that I am not as well known to-Oh, here they are now! Prepare yourself for a surprise, my friend."
Three figures approached them through the maze of furniture that cluttered the room. Sangae had been an old man for most of Kelis's life, but he wore his age like an unchanging garment. He was still a slim man-a great runner in his time. His simple garment wrapped his torso and was slung over one of his shoulders.
Sangae embraced him. "It has been too long, my son."
"Yes, Father, but the Giver is kind," Kelis responded. Sangae was not actually his father, but in the village of Umae the terms son and father had always been used liberally. The other man was clearly Ioma's father, Sinper; they had the same facial structure and physique. The older man wore his hair cropped short around the ears, but it bloomed fuller on top, dusted with gray. Sinper was cordial in greeting him, though he did so with his chin raised and eyes heavy lidded in a manner that made it clear he expected Kelis to offer him the deference usually reserved for chieftains.
Looking over his shoulder as the old man gripped him, Kelis saw that a woman had followed the two men. Seeing her stirred something in him. There were things in her face that he remembered. The wide, smooth forehead; the large eyes separated by the gentle bridge of her nose; her lips full and shapely, held in the pucker that was traditional for Talayan women in formal situations. Part of it, as well, was that her beauty reminded him of an emotion: envy. It was that emotion that marked his realization of who she was: Benabe, one of the many young women who had pursued Aliver as he grew into a man.
"Benabe," Kelis said, "the moon hides in your eyes."
"No," she said, "that is the sun in yours, which simply reflects in mine."
The greeting completed, Ioma took Kelis by the arm and led him to a couch. They all sat, sipping the chilled drink as servants set a table with small bowls of pickled cabbage and tiny squids, fish eggs on triangles of hard bread. For a while they chatted with no particular direction to the conversation. This was normal enough, really, but Kelis could barely contain his curiosity. He half wondered if he would have to wait until he was alone to find out, and he more than half wondered if the young woman, so quiet as the men spoke, had some role in whatever had brought him here.
Sinper asked Kelis about his battles with the foulthings. He seemed honestly interested in the beasts but also in Mena Akaran. Was she really as fierce in battle as they say? Was it true that she had killed a many-eyed lion beast with her own sword? Could she truly keep pace with Talayan runners when on the hunt? Kelis answered with plainspoken honesty each time.
"So you admire her?" Sinper asked.
"There is much to admire."
"And what of her sister?" Ioma asked.
"Queen Corinn," Kelis said, "I do not know that well."
Ioma grinned. "She doesn't run barefoot beside our men, does she?"
"No," Kelis acknowledged.