On the other side of the scales, I soon realized I had inadvertently earned a good measure of approval among the general household, receiving nods and smiles and incomprehensible remarks that nevertheless carried unmistakable overtones of gratitude and approbation. I even managed to go outside the gates, carrying a basket of dead birds and fish that we spread on a stretch of crab-infested beach. I was discreetly looking around to see if any possibilities that might lead to an escape plan were apparent, when shouts of excitement erupted all around me, everyone looking at the sea with expressions of delight while at the same time backing hurriedly away to the tree line. Caught unawares by this, I found myself alone on the sand, staring at the monstrous form undulating slowly down the narrow strait.
It was a sea serpent. All my mother’s childhood assurances that there were no such things, that they were only tales like the Eldritch kin, went for nothing as I watched the massive, leathery black coils rise and fall, a long glaucous fin running the length of the beast, scattering a shining shower of droplets as it broke the surface of the sea. It was not scaly, like a snake or even a fish; its skin was dull and rough textured, oily-looking as water streamed off it in twisted rivulets. An immense head rose above the turbid waters for an instant, long and blunt-nosed, as thick as the huge body with no suggestion of a neck; a vast mouth filled with yellow needle-like teeth gaped for an instant, tiny black eyes almost invisible against the darkness of its skin. Questing, head raised for a moment as the Islanders fell silent in frozen awe, the great beast abruptly disappeared beneath the roiling waters, the last flick of its tail slapping across the strait.
The excitement all around me was as nothing I had ever experienced, cheers and shouting ringing in my ears, the commotion spreading as the crowd carried me back toward the residence, word spreading in all directions. Still half disbelieving what I had just seen, all I could think was that if I got off this island it wasn’t going to be by swimming.
“What is all this about?” I demanded of Sezarre when I was able to fight my way through the throng to his side.
“To see Rek-a-nul—that is an omen of the strongest kind, a great mark of the day,” he assured me, smiling broadly. “You will have great good luck.”
I’d believe that if I survived all this without my own involvement with magic being revealed or finding an Elietimm knife in my back.
For the rest of that day Sezarre stayed so close to me you’d have thought I was carrying his purse. There was no sign of Kaeska or the Elietimm, to my profound relief. As we made repeated circuits of the gardens, fountains and aviaries, there were no more deaths among the hurriedly replaced birds and fish, brought from Talagrin knows where by a succession of shocked-looking islanders. Mahli continued to labor in childbed; we heard intermittent cries from the top floor of the residence when our paths took us periodically under the high walls and in an exchange of glances that needed no translation shared our rather guilty relief that neither of us would ever be called upon to bear a child. Finally, as the sun was hovering orange and massive on the horizon, a thin, high wail pierced the expectant silence that had descended over the entire compound. The place erupted with cheers and shouting as more people than I had imagined lived there emerged from every doorway.
I followed Sezarre as he forced a way through the throng toward the residence. A question was shouted at him from all sides and he laughed as he nodded his acquiescence. I saw pottery shards being exchanged in all directions and suddenly understood. The Aldabreshi may not drink anything stronger than their piss-poor wine or take smoke or leaf, but they are the keenest gamblers I’ve ever come across. One evening, not so long before, I’d caught Laio and Mahli betting a fortune in gems on the tiny yellow lizards that were climbing the walls of the dining room.
“Boy or girl?” I pulled at Sezarre’s shirt.
“I say boy.” He grinned at me. “I wager five days of taking dishes back to the kitchen.”
I laughed and took the scrap of earthenware he passed me, the token covered in looping Aldabreshin script.
Laio and Gar were standing together in the corridor when we reached the top floor of the residence. Both looked drained and disheveled, heedless of bloody smears on their clothing. Gar stepped forward to embrace Sezarre in a surprising display of emotion, tears glistening on her cheeks. I looked uncertainly at Laio, who seemed to be on the verge of crying herself. She shook herself like a kitten caught in a shower of rain and clutched at my hand. “Come and see our new son.”
So I was in for five days of maneuvering overloaded trays down the stairs and corridors while Sezarre took life a little easier. Smiling nonetheless and shaking my head at him as he grinned over Gar’s head, I followed Laio to Mahli’s rooms where the new mother lay in a bed of fresh quilts, reclining against Shek Kul’s shoulder. She was cradling a tiny bundle of snuffling cotton swaddling topped with a tuft of thick black hair that certainly suggested he was Shek Kul’s child. Mahli smiled at me and I managed to smile back, although I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone look quite so exhausted and still remain conscious.
Shek Kul looked over her head at me and addressed me directly for the first time since I was caught up in this whole mess.
“This is my son, Shek Nai. You will protect him as if he were blood of your blood.”
I looked at the tiny, fragile face, eyes screwed shut against the strangeness of the world, and nodded; that much was no hardship, no threat to any other allegiance I held. I looked around for Laio, wondering how soon she was going to act to remove the threat of Kaeska’s malice that was hanging over this infant life. She must have read this in my face, a faint frown marring her brow as she gestured me out of the room with a shake of her head.
“Is Mahli all right?” I asked as we headed for Laio’s apartments, walking the customary pace behind her. I only have a hazy notion of the sorts of things that can go wrong for women in child-bed but I’ve seen a handful too many men of my acquaintance sobbing as they place a crimson urn in a shrine to Drianon.
“She’s come through it very well. The midwife is delighted,” Laio nodded. “The aspects of the heavens are highly propitious as well. We must make sure the stars are fully recorded.” She looked upwards, her mind clearly occupied elsewhere. I couldn’t help that.
“When are you going to tell Shek Kul about Kaeska and her magician?” I demanded.
“What are you talking about?” Laio turned from pouring herself a drink from a jug of fruit juice. “You mainlanders only make a note of the sun or which moon is uppermost, don’t you? Do you know the time of your birth? We could chart your stars if you do—”
Of all the irrelevancies I could imagine her wanting to discuss, the fact that I was born under the lesser moon seemed the most pointless.
“Kaeska and the magician attacked me today, look at my leg. I could have been killed. She has been using poisons; she has tried to kill the fish and the birds.” I wondered with a cold horror where the bitch had been creeping while Sezarre and I frustrated her plans in the gardens. Any standing drink could have been fouled. I dashed the porcelain cup from Laio’s hands; it shattered on the floor, sticky juice splashing us both. Laio was too taken aback even to rebuke me.
I knelt with a curse as my bruised leg protested and touched a finger to a puddle of juice, smearing it on my lip and waiting tensely for any burning or numbness that would betray any taint. Laio listened, astounded as I told her about my eventful day.
“I will get you a fresh drink from the kitchens,” I told her firmly. “So we can be sure it’s safe.” I strode off, determined that Laio should denounce Kaeska as soon as possible, refusing to countenance this degree of uncertainty and fear.
On my return, I found Laio in the bathroom, stripping off her bloodied and juice-spattered clothing. I handed a cup and retreated in some confusion. It had been easy enough to ignore her tempting form when I had thought any hand laid on her would be instantly hacked off by an outraged Warlord. It seemed her earlier revelations had removed that particular chain on my desires and the old dog was up and barking. To my relief this appeared to be one nuance of our relationship that Laio was failing to comprehend as she emerged, hair tied up in a silken scarf, a loose yellow chamber robe belted negligently over her nakedness. Her expression was still thoughtful.