Bekaara came hurrying from one of the back rooms, drying her hands on a towel. Today she wore a simple pale blue dress ornamented only with embroidery at neck and hem.
“I hope we haven't disturbed you.” Kallista bowed and took the hand Obed's cousin extended.
“No, no. I was writing letters, had to wash the ink off my hands.” Bekaara squeezed Kallista's hand, patted it awkwardly. “I was absolutely sick to hear what happened to that nice young man. They said you knew the instant he—Well, if there's anything I can do—"
The open sympathy in Bekaara's face brought tears back to Kallista's eyes. She hated to cry, especially in public, but such a devastation as this ... Kallista smiled—somewhat—nodded and squeezed back. “Thank you. I appreciate your offer."
Bekaara chuckled, gently. “That's why you're here, isn't it? Because there is something I can do for you. Come then. Sit, sit.” She shooed them all to the sofas.
“May I offer you tea? Mother will be pleased to hear you've come. She may forgive me yet. The Reinine and all the Godmarked come to visit—well, except—” The expression of horror on Bekaara's face as she realized her misstep made Kallista smile.
“No need to walk on eggshells,” Kallista said. “We miss Stone, very much, and we are more determined than ever to redeem his son, but we are not so sensitive as that."
Bekaara's champion brought in a tray with a steaming pot of Daryathi tea, prized all over the known world, and cups without handles.
Bekaara made a sweeping gesture. He bowed and went to do whatever she had bid while she poured tea and chatted about inconsequential things. When he returned to take up a post at the doorway, she set her cup down and folded her hands.
“Now.” Bekaara smiled at Kallista, her eyes seeming to gain in sharp intelligence by the tick. “Danek has cleared away any listeners. What is it I may do for you?"
“I need information,” Kallista said. “Confirmation. Obed has said that you will give me truth, even if it is an uncomfortable one."
Bekaara took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Oh. Dear.” She met Kallista's gaze. “Yes. I will give you truth."
Kallista leaned forward, intent. “I am told that in the jubilee year, when debts are forgiven and bondservants are set free, only the Daryathi gain their freedom. Is this true?"
Bekaara looked grim as she nodded. “Truth."
“I am told there are many Adaran slaves here in Mestada."
“Truth."
Piece by piece, Kallista went through the information her ilian had learned from the young thief and every word of it, Bekaara confirmed. The Daryathi bred their Adaran slaves in hopes of getting more naitani. Though only one in five women or one in ten men might be gifted with magic, those without magic were kept for the value of their labor and their children. This also meant that impoverished, indebted Daryathi had less opportunity for employment and more trouble paying off debt.
“Is this why Daryath wants a trade agreement?” Kallista paced the room, scarcely noticing how it agitated Danek, or that Fox had stationed himself beside the young champion. “So they can steal more of our people? Enslave us all?"
Bekaara sighed. “I think some of the Kameri truly wish to be able to
hire
Adaran nathains, but when others hold slaves..."
“Slaves are much cheaper than employees, aren't they?” Kallista didn't bother to keep the sharp edges from her voice. “Do
you
own any slaves?"
“I do not myself, no. But Shakiri Line—yes.” Bekaara touched the fragile rim of one of the round teacups. “Sometimes I think this is why my mother is determined to live so long. Besides the fact that she hates to give up a single drop of power. She knows the first thing I will do as the Shakiri is to free all our slaves."
“Whereupon every other Line in Mestada will snap them up."
Bekaara's eyes held sadness when she looked at Kallista. “I would send them home, to you, on one of Obed's ships."
“I'm sorry. This just—” Kallista rubbed her aching eyes. She'd always had a temper, but lately it had gotten worse. And she wasn't the only one who'd noticed. Her iliasti complained about it. The worry was getting to her. “It makes me furious and you're handy. How did things get into such a mess?"
“When I was a girl,” Bekaara said, “Adaran nathains were hired. But—they would leave for higher pay, or to go home. And they were always scarce, especially with all our Daryathi nathains going into the temple. So when magic was needed and no one would work for the pay offered, they began to be ... taken."
Kallista bit down on her temper. “How long?"
“I wasn't of age when I first remember hearing of it, so—thirty-five years ago? Forty?” Bekaara scowled, letting go of the teacup she'd been toying with. “The first ones I heard of had been charged with blasphemy, adultery. They were tried in the arena-courts, but too many of them died. Most of the ones arrested after that were simply—enslaved. Others, they didn't bother with arresting. Just took them."
“And you did nothing?” Kallista's temper got loose again before she could drag it back.
“What could I do? I was a child.” Bekaara was on her feet now, but kept her distance, which kept Kallista's bodyguard iliasti seated. “What can I do now? I am the heir, not the Shakiri. The Shakiri can order my death and no one can stay her hand. By Law, I am required to kneel before her and bow my head for the blow."
"Goddess."
Kallista flung herself across the room, away from the temptation to attack, or break something. Fewer breakables at this end.
“When did all the Daryathi naitani begin to go into the temple?” Joh asked. “And why, if you want the magic badly enough to enslave Adarans for it?” Thank the One for cool heads and analytical minds.
“It began before I was born. Several generations back, I think.” Bekaara returned to her sofa, picked up a teacup again. Perhaps handling the delicate porcelain helped her own temper. If she lost control, she would break the cup. “As for why..."
She sighed, brooded over her tea a moment. “Religion. The Sameric sect gained ascendancy some hundred years ago, teaching that the nathains, those gifted by the One with magic, were not just blessed, but holy. To be set aside and dedicated to the service of the One.
“Their sect believes that to be acceptable to God, a person must be separate from the daily evils of ordinary life. Only those with magic are blessed by the One. The rest of humanity can earn the remnants of the One's favor by setting themselves apart—joining the Samerics—or supporting those set apart. Gradually, Samerics took over all the temples in Daryath until now, few dare admit they don't follow Sameric beliefs.” Her voice had gone sour.
“At first, the nathains lived together in special buildings, rather like a skola, coming out to do their work. But as the Samerics refined their teaching, that the nathains were too holy to even mingle with those denied by the One, they began moving into the temple here in Mestada, closing down all the other temples, and then they stopped coming out at all.” She paused. “I am not Shathina's oldest daughter. Did you know?"
Obed shook his head for the rest of them. There was too much he did not know, and he hated the feeling.
“I had an older sister who was taken into the temple. As your sister would have been, Obed, had she not died of the fever. It struck about the time her magic appeared."
Kallista's lightning could not have stunned him more. “Sister?"
“Oh yes—” Bekaara looked stricken, as if she wished she'd said nothing. “How would you know about her? It happened after you entered the skola. Your mother was lonely with you gone and your father dead so long."
“He died when I was five,” Obed said for those who didn't know. “I nearly died of the black-tongue fever as well.” He barely remembered his father, only a deep voice and a sense of safety. The last time he'd felt safe until he found Kallista.
“That's right. So you were gone and Shaneen took a lover. One of the Shakiri-sa at the estate upriver where she lived. It wouldn't have been so bad, but there was a child, a girl. Mother was furious. She was pleased enough with the girl, but Shaneen had disgraced herself.
“She refused to break off with her lover as Mother ordered. Actually wanted to marry him—a Shakiri-
sa
. That had Mother absolutely frothing at the mouth. A
Sa
as her brother?” Bekaara stopped for a breath in the rapt silence.
Kallista returned to the sofas, took a seat beside Obed and put an arm around him. He scarcely noticed. How could he not have known this? What
else
had they not told him? He'd been devastated when he came for his visit to find his mother dead, but this—
“So,” Bekaara went on. “The Shakiri ordered the Sa's death. When Shaneen found him, she came to Mestada for revenge, but Mother was surrounded by her pet champions. Shaneen's attack failed and she was injured. Mother planned to send her back to the estate, to forgive her, eventually, if she behaved herself. Of course, her baby would stay in Mestada with the Shakiri.
“Shaneen died before the week was out. She hadn't been injured so badly, but—” Bekaara sighed. “Without her lover or either of her children, I think she simply didn't want to live."
Obed dragged his hand down over his mouth, trying to wipe away all emotion. His voice shook when he spoke, giving away the earthquake inside. “I did not know."
He'd had a
sister
. And he had never known. Yet another thing Shathina had stolen from him as she had stolen everything else in his life. He was no more alone in the world than he had been. He still had his family, his son, Kallista. So why did he feel so much worse?
Chapter Fifteen
“Of course not.” Bekaara poured more tea in Obed's cup, urged him to drink. “You were in—what? Your second—no, your third year at that skola. They wouldn't even let us tell you your mother had died. ‘The students must focus solely on their learning.'” She mocked a pompous-sounding official. He heard echoes of the skola's grand master in her voice.
“By the time they let you out for your visit before you took your dedicat vows, your mother had been dead five years. What use would it have been to tell you all this then?"
“I might have met my sister.” Obed ground the words through clenched teeth. He had never known, and the loss hurt the worse because of it.
“Shakiri Shathina forbade anyone telling you. You were qualified for dedicat, the first
im
-Shakiri dedicat in years. She wanted
nothing
to interfere with that. She wanted those dedicat skills sworn to fight in the courts for Shakiri."
“Why was I not told about my sister later?” Obed wanted to snatch up one of the teacups and smash it against the wall.
Bekaara wouldn't meet his eyes. “After she died? What purpose would it have served? I wish I had said nothing now—I forgot that you didn't know. It seemed mere cruelty, to tell you such a thing when you could do nothing about it."
The worse cruelty was not telling him from the start. He could have left the skola, given up his vows and become champion. Made a home for himself and his sister.
Dreamsmoke. Shathina would never have allowed it. Only the completion of his dozen years of vows and earning all nine tattoos had set him free of his aunt and her plotting. And allowed him to find his destiny. Kallista.
“Perhaps we should visit the temple.” Kallista's voice brought Obed out of his thoughts.
“Only clerics and prelates go into the temple grounds,” Bekaara reminded them.
Another reason for the Sameric clerics to preach against Kallista and Adarans, Obed supposed. Who knew what a free, uncloistered magic-user might do? Though none of the Daryathi seemed to know what “godmarked” truly meant.
“Do we have time for a visit now?” Fox asked quietly. “Before Stone's son is free?"
Kallista shook her head. “No. You're right. It would be a distraction. Later, if it's necessary, we can visit.” She stood and pulled Obed to his feet. He still felt stunned.
“So,” she said to Bekaara. “Can we do anything for you?"
“I am well enough.” Bekaara bowed. “Thank you.” She strolled with them back through the house, her young champion at her left shoulder just as Obed strode at Kallista's right. “My husband is away. He would love to meet you, I know."
“I thought—” Obed began before falling silent, wondering what else he hadn't been told.
“What?” Kallista walked sideways down the stairs to look back at him.
“I thought your husband died,” Obed said. “After Thalassa was born. I never saw him after that, when you came to trials."
Bekaara's smile was thin. “The Shakiri ordered us divorced. We were too close. I spent too much time with him, too much thought on him. I loved him too much. But—” She shook her head.
“I have never abandoned my vows. He is still my husband, here.” She touched her heart. “Shakiri Shathina could order us divorced. She can order my death, but she cannot make me marry against my will. I am already married. So."
“Saints.” Obed added a few of Torchay's favorite oaths.
“Thiben, my husband, was married again by the Head of his Line. They live apart, he and his ‘wife'—no children. He keeps his vows to me as well."
Kallista stopped to stare at Bekaara. “Is every life tragic in Daryath? Doesn't anyone have a happy story?"
Bekaara considered, standing there in the shadowed gallery beside an expansive courtyard. “I've never considered."
After a bit, she shook her head. “No, I don't believe so. Mother is happy on occasion, when she's moving the members of Shakiri House around like pieces on a queens-and-castles board, or when the en-Kameral does her bidding. But then Habadra or some other Line will do something, and she'll fly into a rage. Sometimes I think she's happiest only when she has something to be enraged about—but I am speaking out of turn."
Bekaara caught Kallista's arm, stopped her when she would have walked on. “What about you? Is yours a happy story?"
Obed held his breath, waiting, wondering what she would say.
Was
she happy?
“Yes,” she said finally, tears overflowing once again.