Hidden Sun Page 4

  He would not need to instruct the pair how to proceed now; the substances they used in their work would be helpful in breaking down the unwanted remains, and they had dubious contacts of their own. The empty body would be safely disposed of.

  A punt awaited him at the slipway near the launderers’ house. Night mist curled in around its blunt stern where one of his bodyguards sat, a man who had, in addition to his faith, an unfortunate past thanks to his criminal family. Sadakh had ensured his history would remain just that – history. He trusted the man with his life.

  The guard poled the punt silently between the islets of the city, the lake water black as ink beneath it.

  Sadakh entered the priory through a postern gate. Once he was safely inside he nodded to the guard, and the punt moved off.

  Less than an hour before the first office of the day. No time to rest, but enough for a proper bath before he had to lead his flock in their morning worship.

  As he entered the men’s baths he passed the foreign boy, coming out. For a moment the youth, forgetting himself, met Sadakh’s eyes. There was a flash of understanding – or rather, Sadakh realized as the boy’s lips curled into a smile, of misunderstanding. The young man was typical for his age and background, and judged the world by his own, incomplete knowledge. He assumed the eparch’s tired and heavily perfumed state indicated a wholly different night’s activity. Once, it might have angered Sadakh to be judged like this but now he took the encounter for what it was: another sign. He sensed his ghost’s humour and, he thought, approval.

  Youth was foolish but also pure. Ignorance that looked like arrogance stemmed from self-belief, and from a hunger for all life had to offer. By the time he lowered himself into the pool cut into the room’s floor, Sadakh had reached a decision. If all went well at the laundry house, then one day soon, this young man might receive a blessing he had never dreamed of.

  Chapter 7

  The audience chamber could hold a dozen potentates in comfort. Today it was empty. Rhia entered, dismissed the footman and took a seat next to the most sumptuous chair.

  Grand Duke Francin of Shen entered, preceded by his two favourite dogs and a whiff of cloves from his pomander. He was unattended for once. Rhia was not sure what to make of that. She stood, and he greeted her with a kiss on each cheek before waving a hand. “Take your rest, cousin. No doubt you are working too hard, as ever.”

  She had not seen him since the reception for the Orasian delegation three weeks ago; today he wore unadorned doublet and hose in scarlet and emerald. His rich brown hair – dyed, these days – issued in coiffed curls from under a floppy cap of moss-green velvet.

  He sat next to her, not on the throne-like seat but in the ordinary low chair on the other side. He scooped up one of the tiny dogs and deposited it in his lap; the other chased its tail at his feet. At least it wasn’t yapping.

  The duke looked at Rhia, his dark, limpid gaze as vacuous as his pet’s. “You are all right, aren’t you?”

  Presumably he was referring to the break-in. “I’m fine, Francin. Thank you.”

  “Good. Good. We’ve found another cache, you know.”

  Rhia blinked, confused. “A cache?”

  “Yes, of artefacts. Right on the edge of the umbral forest.”

  “And they’re pre-Separation?” Curiosity overcame apprehension.

  “I believe so. A sinkhole opened up in a fallow field – damned drought does have some positive side-effects – and revealed one of those underground rooms.”

  “What was in it?”

  “Couldn’t tell you in detail. Safe to say it’s stuff we have no idea about but which has the cardinals frothing. I do know there was another book thingy.”

  “A glass book?” That had been a privilege, to handle an object made by the Children of the First.

  “One of those, yes.”

  The artefact Francin once showed her had looked like a very slender book made of a greyish material somewhere between stone and glass. It was surprisingly light in the hand. Aside from a small indentation on one side it had been featureless. Going on its size and shape Rhia had mused that it might be some sort of analogue to a book, albeit without obvious pages. Given the object was thousands of years old and made by people whose wisdom and knowledge far outstripped anything still known, this was a guess, but the theory had stuck, in Francin’s mind at least.

  That was five years ago, a snatched opportunity between discovery and the artefact going to the Church for “safe disposal”. These days, thanks to her recent research into optics, she might give such an object a proper examination.

  “So, might we get access to some of the items? To the glass book, perhaps?”

  “Alas no. That naughty clerical error we took advantage of was a one-off. And the Church are not too happy with me right now.” Presumably because he had arrested one of their own for inciting the recent riot.

  Rhia hid her disappointment. But to be told she was not to have access to an ancient artefact was nothing new. She waited for Francin to offer more. When he didn’t she said, “You mentioned having news, in your note.”

  “Indeed I did.”

  “So, has something come to light?” Rhia kept her question vague.

  “Hmm. Yes. You could say that.”

  “Francin, stop it!”

  Francin stroked the head of the dog on his lap. The other one had tired of chasing itself and sat on its haunches, looking at its master with mindless adoration. “Stop what, cousin?”

  Rhia did not reply. Instead she drew a long, steadying breath. She had insisted on knowing everything the militia investigators had uncovered about Etyan’s sudden and unexpected departure. Not that it amounted to much. Francin had never mentioned a link between her brother and the unfortunate incident in the lower city, but that did not mean he hadn’t found one. “Please, can we bypass the verbal fencing? Just tell me what you’ve found out.”

  “Etyan is in Zekt.”

  “What?”

  “Hah. You ask me to talk straight and then act stupefied! Really. I expect better from a mind like yours.”

  “Francin!” But her reply was distracted, as the news sank in. “Zekt? My brother’s in Zekt?”

  “It was always likely.”

  “A possibility, yes.” Zekt was one of three shadowlands with a caravan departure around the time Etyan disappeared. “But now you’re sure it’s Zekt?”

  “I have new information from a reliable source.”

  “A source you can share?”

  Francin waggled a finger at her, making the dogs flinch. “I don’t ask for details of your researches and investigations, do I?”

  “Point taken.” She suspected she would be happier not knowing. She picked her next words with care. “I don’t suppose your source has any idea why he went to Zekt?”

  “No. It appears only Etyan himself knows that.”

  “What will you do now?”

  “Well, we can’t have our nobles gallivanting off, especially not to Zekt. I’ll send people to fetch him home.”

  To face justice? Rhia was glad they were next to each other, not eye to eye. “Who will you send?”

  “My best. After all, Etyan is my cousin. Well, second cousin once removed or whatever the correct–”

  “I’ll go too.” Where did that come from?

  “What?”

  “I will go and bring my brother home.” Out across the skyland, to another shadowland. What a thought!

  “That’s out of the question.”

  “No, no it isn’t. It makes perfect sense.” And it did, for more reasons than she dared say. She searched for a safe argument. “We didn’t part on the best of terms. The only way to show Etyan how much I want him back is to go myself. Sending a stranger might make him run again.” As would guilt.

  Francin turned to look sidelong at her. The dog on his lap gave a muffled half growl of protest. “Rhia, I let you have your way in many things. Not this time. Etyan is the only close family you have a
nd of course you miss him. You want to do all you can to ensure his safe return. But it would be unthinkable for someone in your position to undertake such a journey. I will not have it.” Francin picked up the dog and stood. “And that is an end to it.”

  Rhia knew further argument was pointless.

  Rhia’s only thought when she offered to fetch Etyan was of the journey itself, of the wonders she might see out in the skyland. But by the time she left the royal presence, her mind had come up with more reasons to go.

  Ever since that dark morning when she followed her brother down the hill her world had been off balance. She had stumbled on a grim puzzle with no solution. Or rather, to mirror Francin’s words, only Etyan knew the solution.

  She would also be escaping the attentions of Mercal Callorn, a prospect which brought guilty relief. And once Etyan returned and proved her fears groundless, House Callorn’s proposal would become irrelevant.

  The only reason to stay was to guard her papers, and between the servants’ extra care and the metal padlock she had asked Markave to buy for the ironwood chest, the enquirers’ wisdom was as safe as she could make it.

  It niggled that she had no idea who was behind the break-in. Given her papers had been the target, it must be someone who knew she was in the natural enquirers’ network.

  Could it be the other enquirer in her shadowland? Although face-to-face contact between enquirers was not encouraged, Father had taken her to meet Theorist of Shen once. The other enquirer had been perplexed, having assumed her brother would inherit her father’s role. She’d had no direct contact with the man since Father’s death. But why would another enquirer want her papers? Even if he had lost his, the enquirers’ code allowed him to simply ask for access to hers.

  Francin probably knew she was a natural enquirer. Despite his air of vacuous dissolution, little happened in Shen he was unaware of. But again, if he wanted her papers, he had only to ask.

  Did Francin know of a link between Etyan’s disappearance and that poor girl’s death? Was there a link? Though her little brother was feckless and wild, he was a gentle soul. But he was too easily led by sweet words, too prone to buy the friendship of fickle companions. She should have done a better job of protecting him – from himself as much as anything. She should never have let things go this far.

  But they had. And the only way to uncover the truth was to speak to Etyan before the duke’s men did.

  To do that, she must go to Zekt.

  “Rhia?”

  Rhia started and focused on her surroundings. She hadn’t seen Alharet coming along the corridor. “Oh, Alharet. He’s found him.”

  “Who…? Wait, you mean Etyan. Francin’s found Etyan.” Surprise lit up Alharet’s placid face.

  Rhia nodded.

  “Praise the First! My dear, that is marvellous.” Alharet looked at her more closely. “What is wrong? Is he… hurt?”

  “No. He’s in Zekt!”

  Alharet’s surprise turned to shock. “Zekt!”

  Rhia cursed her self-absorption. Alharet rarely mentioned her old homeland; Rhia had the impression she was glad to have left it. “Yes. He’s – Francin, that is – is sending someone to fetch him back.”

  “Francin’s sending someone to Zekt.”

  “Yes. And I should go with them, Alharet. Etyan and I rowed terribly.”

  “Yes, but you must not consider going yourself! Last curse it, I’m on my way to an appointment, otherwise I would insist you come and tell me everything.”

  “Oh yes, how was the banquet last night?”

  “Never mind the banquet. It was fine. You say the duke is sending an expedition to Zekt!”

  “Yes, and I can’t… I can’t just sit by any more.”

  Alharet took both Rhia’s hands in hers. “My dear, that is precisely what you must do. Anything else is unthinkable.” She released her cool hold. “Now, I have to go. Come and see me soon.”

  Rhia nodded. As Alharet swept off down the corridor it occurred to Rhia that this was the first time in recent memory the duke and his wife had agreed on something.

  Chapter 8

  Four days before Min was due to leave, a pair of skykin arrived at the crèche.

  Looking out the dorm window after siesta, Dej saw a solid-sided wagon approaching from the west through the barley fields. Today’s first set of chores was turning hay. While everyone milled around by the back door, she “accidentally” stepped on the rake she’d just been issued, breaking its ironwood tines. She told the servant in charge of her work group she would go and fetch a new one. Somewhat to her surprise, he fell for it.

  After selecting a new rake, she loitered in the tool store. When the courtyard gates opened she pulled the door shut to peer out through the crack. She’d be getting a caning, if not hole time, for dawdling like this, but she didn’t care. Skykin visited no more than half a dozen times a year and the crèche staff kept them away from their charges. Wait until she told Min she’d been this close.

  The wagon slowed and the rhinobeast pulling it tossed its head. Diamond studs in its hardened head-frill caught the light and Dej smelled the beast’s musty, yeasty scent. The skykin driving the wagon clicked his tongue, and the rhinobeast settled. The driver got down to help his passenger: just the one this time, and no babes in arms. The skykin woman was further gone than Min, her naked belly round as an egg.

  Mam Gerisa hurried into view. “Welcome, welcome. We wondered if we might see you soon,” she addressed the skykin wagon driver, then turned to the female skykin, “and to have a new life come to us is always a blessing.”

  You didn’t think that about Min, you bitch.

  The woman said, “The birth may be hard. Have you a room ready?”

  “Always. The midwife will meet us there.” Mam Gerisa turned to the other skykin. “We will find refreshments and a place for you to wait. Will you take any this time?”

  “Yes. Three.” Dej hoped Pel would be one of them. He was a year older than her, and overdue his bonding.

  Mam Gerisa nodded, then turned to help the pregnant skykin. Her companion climbed back onto the wagon. He murmured to the rhinobeast, which lurched forward, heading for the animal compound at the back of the crèche buildings.

  As the skykin woman passed the storeroom she looked up. Dej, head full of dorm gossip about unearthly senses, ducked back, before snorting at herself for being afraid. These were skykin – her people.

  Dej waited for a summons to the she-goat, but none came. Looked like she’d got away with being late for her shift. Perhaps Mam Gerisa had more important matters on her mind.

  At dinner the skykin who’d driven the wagon ate at top table, sending an excited buzz round the refectory. The way Mam Gerisa had greeted him implied he was a regular visitor. Dej wondered how the old goat knew, given all skykin looked the same to her, wiry and hairless and covered in scales. That would change when she was bonded, of course.

  There was no sign of the woman.

  At the end of the meal Mam Gerisa stood up. Everyone fell silent.

  “This is a joyous day,” she said. “You have a new crèche-mate, a little boy, praise the First.” Another brief buzz, though most people were more interested in the visiting skykin than in a new baby. She continued, “Our visitors will return to the skyland once the mother has taken her rest. And when they leave,” she concluded, “they will take three of you with them to become adults.”

  The olders looked at each other, some smiling, some nervous.

  “Those three are Pel, Mev and Dej.”

  Everyone at their table looked at Dej. Dej waited for Mam Gerisa to correct her mistake, but the crèche-mother was sitting down.

  Min hugged her. Dej tried to hug her back, but between the baby in Min’s belly, and the hollowness in hers, it felt like they were barely touching.

  Restday was another stupid inconsistency.

  The scriptures tutor said Dej and her crèche-mates had to study the ancient texts because they went way back to the Se
paration, when the Children of the First fell from grace and split into skykin and shadowkin. Maybe so, but ever since the Separation the skykin didn’t worship the First in the same way shadowkin did. While the crèche staff packed into the chapel every restday to recite holy words – some in a sing-song way which always caught Dej’s ear – then hear the travelling priest’s sermon and mutter prayers to the pretty-but-too-large-to-steal box allegedly containing a finger-bone of Saint Yu, their charges just got a day off to sleep or play games or do whatever else they wanted, within reason. But if the skykin didn’t keep restday as holy, why should it be different to any other day for their children?

  Not that Dej objected to a day off from classes and chores. And this restday Dej was happy to give thanks to the First, because it might be the last day she had with her friend, and she wanted to relish every moment of it.

  She walked the gardens and fields with Min, saying goodbye to favourite places: a lime tree with a low branch they used to swing on, the olive grove where they’d once built a den, the ridge on the edge of the crèche’s lands with the best view across to the clouded silver of the skyland. They took it slowly, resting whenever Min needed to, telling each other anecdotes they both knew, revisiting memories and secrets they’d shared. And singing. Alone in the fields they could sing loud and long and no one could stop them.

  Whenever they saw crèche-mates or, after chapel, crèche staff, people smiled but didn’t approach. They didn’t even get pulled up for going up to the ridge, which was out of bounds now it was too dry to grow anything on. People were being so nice.

  Somehow it got to suppertime without either of them mentioning what was to come. At supper Dej got an extra portion. Everyone on the table was her friend, not just Min. Even Jen wished her the best though, typically, the dorm’s own little duchess added, “Well, the best you can manage, anyway,” as she walked off.

  After supper, Dej was called away to the baths. By the time she got back to the dorm, Min was asleep.

  Chapter 9