“You know I am not from Ha’las, and many things are new to me. I am looking for a different opinion. I think I could trust yours.”
“You can trust it to piss you off. No, you seem like a decent man for a ku’an, but I’d be stupid to risk your temper for speaking the truth. Here, boy—get me water after all.” Ha’star waited until the boy had run off, then stared into Callo’s eyes for a moment. He shook his head. “Gods help me, I must be crazy. Here you are with your demon’s eyes, and I’m still going to do what I’m going to do. I’d swear you’re not influencing me.” It was half a question.
“No.” Callo let the single word hang between them. Further protestations, he felt, would only damage the frail connection he felt building between himself and the scarred warrior.
Ha’star sighed. “I believe you. I’m still as leery as I should be. I go to the Black Duck, in Seaside. I’m frequently there evenings. You show up there, you make it through Seaside safe, I’ll talk to you some. You gave me a fair fight after all—no ku’an magery about it.”
“Thank you.” Callo stepped back to let the man disarm and get back to his day. There was hope in his heart for the first time since he had met Si’lan. Returning to his chamber, he cleaned up and dressed in unusual good humor, until Chiss commented on it.
“You are in a fine good mood for a man who’s missed breakfast,” Chiss said.
“Missed completely? No, I see you’ve saved me something. I had a match, Chiss, a good one. I feel great.”
Someone knocked on the door and Chiss went to answer it. Kirian’s veiled figure rushed into the room, followed by her ever-present guardian Sara’Si.
“Lord Callo,” Kirian said. “I must speak with you.”
“Good morning,” he said, smiling at her. “Have some breakfast—stale bread, right Chiss? And ham. What did you want to talk about?”
Kirian did not respond at once, and Callo’s eyes flicked to the shrouded Sara’Si. The woman did seem a dour presence, and he had no doubt that she reported on Kirian’s activities to someone. He said, “Sara’Si, please leave us for a moment.”
The companion bowed. “My lord ku’an. It is inappropriate for her to be alone with you.”
“Great gods, I traveled in a ship from Righar with the man,” Kirian said. Callo grinned at her exasperation.
“We will be but a moment, Sara’Si; this I promise you. I will leave the door open, and I will remain.” Chiss took over and escorted Sara’Si out. When he returned he said, “My lord. Hon Kirian. There is no reason they could not be listening anyway, although the woman is out of the room.”
Callo looked around. “Do you think so? I see no signs of it.”
“We might see no signs.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Kirian said. “I’m tired of caring what they think of me.” She slipped her veil off to reveal her lovely brown eyes and short hair, ruffled now from the veil. Callo felt an urge to stroke that spiky hair but restrained himself.
Chiss said: “I don’t think you understand, Hon Kirian. You need to care what they think of you. These restrictions are a matter of religion, remember . . .”
“After being here a while, I’ve become quite sure that enforcement is a matter of politics,” Callo said.
“So, then, Chiss,” Kirian frowned. “What is the penalty for being alone with a man in a room with his servant?”
“A ku’an’s servant is considered nothing but an extension of himself. Any woman alone with a ku’an is considered to have broken the laws of modesty. The penalty for this . . .”
“I remember,” Kirian sighed.
“Perhaps the rules may be a little relaxed for you, since you are a Healer and since the King needs you.” Chiss shrugged.
“I have been a little more assertive than they like. And Sara’Si does not like my visits to the hospital. She says it is not fitting. But Lady Min’dou has said nothing to me about it.”
“They are treating us with caution,” Callo said. “It has been almost a season we have been here. Our lives have been at risk since we got here. I wonder if this makes much of a difference.”
“Not to you,” Kirian retorted. “You are a ku’an, able to do whatever you want. There are no barriers for you.”
“Nor, perhaps, for those who are of my household.” Callo shrugged. He knew they had several times violated the Ha’lasi religious law in what he considered to be minor ways, but as of yet there had been no repercussions. He said, “We have no doubt made another mistake. Let us be quick and minimize the damage. Why are you here, Kirian?”
She came close to him, looking up into his eyes. “My lord, the King has taken a concubine. It is someone I know.”
Callo frowned. “How could that be?”
“Her name is Eyelinn. She was a slave in Righar, in Fortress Mount. Do you remember the men who came to search that day, for my friend Inmay and the slave he escaped with?”
He did remember. He remembered how even Jashan’s rituals had not calmed his anger, how the power had writhed free of his control there on the path, almost sparking a fight which would have proven fatal to at least one of them. The ku’an’an had not taught him much since he had been in Ha’las, seeming reluctant in spite of his acceptance by the god Som’ur—but he had been quick to show him the way to contain the psychic magery to keep from unconsciously influencing others around him. Callo had been working daily to strengthen his internal walls, without much success he feared.
“I remember,” he said, his mind on his own problems. Then Kirian’s guilty glance broke through his memories. “Wait. This is the slave? Eyelinn, you called her. You know this woman?”
“She came to Las’ash city with Inmay, on the
Fortune
.”
“I remember you saw the man aboard. So this woman is Ar’ok’s concubine now. Is she unwilling?”
Kirian sighed. “No.” She paced away from him, frowning as she spoke. “As a matter of fact, when I was there to treat him, she seemed—eager. But the ku’an can do that, is it not so.”
He nodded. “Where is the man? Inmay?”
“I have not seen him.”
Callo moved away and sat down at the table. “You are not going to ask me to do something about this.”
She made a soft, unladylike snort. “I don’t know. On the one hand I don’t care if they go to hell. On the other . . . I hate to see her enslaved—no enthralled—against her will.”
He mulled it over, sipping from the cup of tea Chiss had left at the table. “I don’t see what I can do. Our position here is uncertain. I have no influence to waste on asking favors of that snake Ar’ok. And this Eyelinn—she has committed a crime, Kirian.”
“I know, I know. If she were back in Fortress Mount, she would be dead, for I am fairly sure she tried to kill her master there.”
Callo made a dismissive gesture. This woman Eyelinn sounded as if she deserved Ar’ok. “Leave it alone—that is my inclination. This is the end of the path she chose for herself. You will get yourself in trouble by taking responsibility for everything.”
Kirian flushed. “There speaks a nobleman.”
Anger flared. From long habit, Callo forced it down. As quickly as she had spoken, she waved a hand in a gesture of repudiation. “I am sorry,” she said. “You did not deserve that.”
He nodded at her, but his nerves were on edge now.
Kirian continued. “I am wondering, though, about Inmay. He never would have left her. He was more than in love with her—more like possessed by her. Will you watch for him, Callo? A slight man, my age, with light yellow hair—with a fair amount of gray in it.”
“I will not promise to rescue him from the consequences of his own stupidity,” Callo said.
“I understand.”
Callo nodded. “I will watch for him and let you know if I see him. I will be out in the city this week. You never know what I might see. Now Kirian, is there more? Or should we call the chaperone back?”
Kirian sighed and rolled her eyes “If you had a chaperone following your every step, you’d sympathize.”
“I sympathize already. I cannot imagine someone always at my back, watching everything I do.” Then he allowed his eyes to rest appreciatively on her face, her slender form. “And Kirian—I would like to be rid of her for other reasons, as well. I miss your company.”
She flushed. “I will go,” she said awkwardly.
He laughed. “Chiss. Call in Sara’Si, will you?”
She cast a fuming glance at him and pulled her veil back over her face. Sara’Si entered, a dark gloomy figure, and took up a position behind Kirian. Together, they left the room.
“My lord,” Chiss said.
“Hmmm?” Callo was still thinking about Kirian.
“How long do you think it will be until the local physicians will have their own supply of the sart leaf?”
“I have no idea. We don’t know if it even grows here.”
“I only ask because that may be the limit of the King’s tolerance for Hon Kirian’s unusual ways.”
Callo lifted an eyebrow and looked at Chiss. “Then we will have to be ready,” he said.
Later that day, called to wait upon the King’s pleasure as sometimes happened, Callo entered the room to find Si’lan just leaving. The ku’an’an nodded his head without smiling. Callo was familiar by now with these sessions where the boy king conducted business while keeping him waiting—sometimes asking a pertinent question, but usually seeming to delight in just keeping him kicking his heels. Callo had learned to stop showing his impatience with these tactics and Ar’ok had lost interest in his continued presence—until now.
He entered, was announced, and made his bow to Ar’ok. The boy king sat on a dais, in rich robes and a coronet. He narrowed his eyes at Callo and said: “I hear you had a match in the ring today with the great Ha’star.”
Callo nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty. A most worthy fighter.”
“With dangerous opinions, I hear. It is not wise to follow up that acquaintance—other than a thrilling contest in the ring, of course.”
“As your Majesty says.” Callo wondered who had heard them in the arms room. The King gestured him away, and Callo went to stand with some other men near the wall, resigned to standing for hours while Ar’ok conducted business, drank wine, or otherwise entertained himself while demonstrating his power over the time of others. This King was young, but that alone was insufficient to explain his spiteful actions and the pleasure he seemed to take in his ku’an powers. Callo feared it was the psychic magery alone that warped him.
As he waited, he noticed a young woman, the only woman in the room, standing to the side of the throne. He was caught by her face, which was mostly visible through the very light fabric of her veil; she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, dark of hair, smooth of skin, and by Ha’lasi standards, practically displayed for all the throne room to see. Her robe was cut low and belted to emphasize her breasts. She seemed to Callo to be heavily under the King’s ku’an influence; far from showing any shyness at her situation, she clung close to the throne, bending near to caress Ar’ok’s face, and allowing him to peer down her robe. The King reached out to fondle her breasts, and then cast a sly glance at his assembled court. Then Ar’ok pulled the woman onto his lap before them all, spreading his legs to settle her between them.
So this was the reason he and the others had been called to wait upon the King; to witness his manipulation of this woman. Perhaps this was the slave woman Kirian had told him about. Regardless, he was sure Ar’ok had her well under his psychic control—‘eager’, as Kirian had said. He felt the foulness of the King creeping toward him. No doubt the boy would show off his influence over her for a while, then take her up to his chambers. It would be nothing but a rape. He looked around the room; there were no representatives of Som’ur’s priesthood present, and he knew the sycophants in the room would keep silent about what they saw here. Guilt filled him, just by association, at having the same abilities as the King. Too angry to be sensible, he stalked out of the room.
* * * * *
The door to the Black Duck was unadorned; only the banner hanging above with the figure of its name painted on it let Callo know this was the right place. Chiss stared at it with disfavor, then looked around at the men moving alone and in small groups through the dockside streets. Two other blank doors looked out on the same wet alley.
“This is a hole,” Chiss said. “You have no idea what awaits you in there.”
“I never said it was safe,” Callo said. In fact, the entire excursion to Dockside had been fraught with tension. He had noticed men watching him from the alley a block down, and had let his hand drift to his sword hilt; however, no attack materialized. Some children had peered out of a window two streets back, calling harmless taunts at the foreigner. Then, someone had whispered something to them, and they had vanished from the window, leaving the street cold, empty, and ominously quiet. The gloom of the early spring day added to the psychological chill until Callo was on edge. He realized his hand had drifted to his belt again, checking the presence of his sword and backup knife. Chiss had been trying to get him to return to Ar’ok’s Castle for the last several minutes.
“And how do you know this Ha’star won’t have laid a trap for you, Lord Callo?”
“He could have killed me in the ring. He had the skill.”
“And there would have been no doubt who did it. Much better to lay a trap, lure you in with promises of information . . .”
“All right, all right,” Callo snapped. “I’m going in, Chiss, whatever you say. Maybe if you don’t try to frighten me out of my wits, I’ll be more alert.”
“I’m sorry, my lord.”
“Don’t worry about it. Look, you stay out here.” At Chiss’ motion of protest, he raised his hand. “Keep watch for Ar’ok’s men. Let me know if you see any threat. I’ll be out in a candlemark at most—less, if Ha’star’s not here.”
Chiss nodded and took up a position in the shadows of the opposite wall. He looked out of place there, with his lean, refined face and thin hair; but he would be safe enough, and Callo was glad to have an ally on the outside.
The door to the Black Duck opened as he approached. He entered and it swung closed behind him. His heart leaped. The room was completely dark, so black he could not move in any direction.
“What ha’ we here?” rasped a voice. “One only, is it? Blind as a bat you are. All right my man, your weapon first and then in you go.”