A Bloom in the North Page 22

  "Darsi is what?" I said.

  "Kuli wants her baby," Hesa said. "Kuli has not changed her mind despite this proof that the House is not safe. 'Of course it's not safe, ke eperu,'"—a credible imitation of Kuli's intonation, if not the soft soprano of her voice—" 'Life isn't safe. But I believe in House Asara.' "

  "So she and Darsi..."

  "Are copulating in her room," Hesa said. And slumped onto the table, shoulders shaking.

  Concerned, I touched one of them. "Tell me."

  "How many times can you save us from destruction, Pathen? Before the gods decide you have cheated them once too often?"

  I thought of Keshul and said, "Maybe the gods are on our side this time."

  "Oh no," Hesa said, and lifted its head, weary. "No... the gods have never been on our side. Or where were they when the Stone Moon came?"

  "Then take Kuli's words to heart and believe in me," I said. When I had its attention, I said, "Whether I like to remember it or not, setasha, I was a Claw once. And some part of me will always remain one. The empire and I... we know one another. We were family once. When we're in the same room together some part of us still thinks of each other that way. Does that make sense?"

  "Maybe," Hesa said, hesitant.

  "The goal is not to destroy," I said. "The goal is to reform. To evolve."

  It sighed. And said, "I've set the watch on the warehouse. The extra emodo were welcome... but I don't like them being in the House."

  "The empire put spies in our midst," I said. "But at least one of them is no longer certain of his loyalties. Let the Claws patrol our property, Hesa. The more they know of us, the more like family we'll become."

  "I hope you're right," it murmured. And pushed itself to its feet. "I should go. There are strangers in the House."

  "Yes," I said. I trusted the Claws to do their job and I knew if they stayed long enough I could win them to us. But it was unreasonable to expect them not to report capital crimes to the Minister... like perversion. But I let myself catch its hand and stroke the underside of its callused fingers, the length of its palm. This it permitted with a shiver. "Go rest, pefna." I smiled. "House Asara is making a baby. Not everything is going wrong in the World."

  "No," it murmured. "I suppose not." It curled its fingers around mine, then released them. "Good night, Pathen."

  I wanted the protection of my emodo paper-makers more than I begrudged the emptiness of my bed... but I very much regretted not being able to comfort my beloved that night.

  The following days were difficult and hectic ones. I spent them nose-deep in accounts either in my office or in the Holdings branch of Transactions, where the Ministry stored financial records. Thesenet and I had several lively discussions about how long an extension I needed and why, by the way, did I want to hire now when my assets were technically frozen. But I was determined to have the last of my eperu support brought in from the truedark kingdom and fought for it, and at last Thesenet obliged me after I pointed out that nothing would convince the het of our continued good relationship like House Asara being able to hire labor despite a destroyed crop offering. “It will convince our enemies to try something new to sabotage the relationship,” I said, and because Thesenet agreed I was given leave to hire... but not to pay anyone in the House, nor make any purchases or withdrawals that did not directly relate to the warehouse project until we'd paid back the loan. The Minister was willing to go very far to accommodate us, but he could not waive the obligation.

  I didn't expect him to. I was also glad Abadil had already spent the capital to finance the first year of the paper project. He was very much aware that his cheerful competition with Hesa over which of them would earn the House the most money had become a far more desperate responsibility; when I saw him in the halls he looked grim and tired.

  But the last of our eperu came home to us, and their arrival allowed us to replace the Claws patrolling the House with our own people. We sent the Claws to the warehouse site. Though we'd found our borrowed enforcers agreeable we were still glad to have our privacy. I certainly was, and Hesa too, though when we finally met in the late evening we stripped one another and went to bed without doing more than touching each other here, there, a hand on a shoulder, on the chest, on the back above the base of the tail... as if reassuring one another that we were alive and whole.

  And there we would have slept had we not been interrupted. At least this time we both recognized her footfalls.

  "Kuli?" I said, tired. "Is something wrong?"

  "If this is a bad time," she said and paused.

  "No," I said, sitting up slowly. "Come in, tell us what brings you here."

  She stopped at the door, one hand on the frame. "Ke emodo... you're the last."

  It took me a moment to realize what she meant.

  "You... you've already been with all the others?" I said, feeling as the world was shifting beneath my feet. I very much didn't want her answer to be 'yes,' but—

  "You're the last." She smiled a little. "I've had time for more than once, in some cases. They've found it... comforting. That I was still planning to have the baby."

  And she was proud of that, from her voice. That she'd been able to give them hope at a time when all of us felt very uncertain about our future.

  "Thank you for that confidence," I said. "It makes a difference."

  "I know that now," she said, voice soft. And added, "Darsi asked if the three of us—the three of us anadi, that is—were willing to check in on the paper room during the night, to make sure the guards were still awake. We've been doing that too." A smile I could hear in her voice, then. "We haven't caught anyone sleeping yet, but we did get a few board games out of it."

  I had not yet answered her tacit request. I knew it, and she knew it, and Hesa knew it. The lover I'd chosen for myself was silent at my side, did not even touch me; the lover I should be welcoming into my bed remained at the door. The two of us began to speak at the same time and she lifted her hand to still me. I let her talk first.

  "Ke emodo," she said. "You don't have to do this. The offer is intended to help heal. If you don't want or need that, there's no need to do it."

  And I very much wanted to tell her that was so and to send her away. I almost did it. But I remembered the anadi in the harness, the sluggishness of their drugged breathing. I remembered the nightmare of laboring over them to bring forth their pleasure, for neither sex can breed without it.

  We had created the anadi residences by doing exactly what I was contemplating now: turning our back on the anadi because we had reasons we'd rather not mate with them. If I sent her away, I would have to shoulder the responsibility for the residences in full understanding, both of what they entailed for the anadi imprisoned in them, and of what I had been incapable of to spare them.

  So I said, "I would be honored by your trust, Kuli."

  I could hear her smile in her voice. It was a gentle one. "May I bring a light?"

  "I'll get it," Hesa said.

  "No," Kuli said. "No, please, ke Hesa. I'd like you to stay. If you're willing. And... if it doesn't distress you, ke Pathen. It wouldn't be strange to me. There were always observers in the residences." Her tail hissed as it dragged back against the stone. "I'll get the light."

  "Pathen?" Hesa asked when she had withdrawn. "I'll stay if you wish."

  "Do you wish, though?" I asked.

  It looked toward the door, then said, "Kuli asked."

  I set a hand on its arm. "If you don't want to have to see me..."

  It rested its head against mine, smiled, and the love in its voice was as palpable as any caress. "Pathen. I will never doubt what you feel for me."

  "You would share me with a breeder," I said.

  It nudged me, nose to cheek. "I would, and I must. You're male, setasha, with a breeder's duties. To keep you from them would be a wound."

  I drew in a breath. Then cupped its cheek and sighed. "All right."

  When Kuli returned with the light, I was sitt
ing on the edge of the bed to receive her. I watched as she set the lantern down on my clothes-chest, trying to see her as someone I would want in my arms. I was fond of her, but fondness is not the same as attraction. My desire to honor her didn't move my body. But I thought that instinct would finish what I began. So I brought her close and helped her remove the borrowed shirt. I kissed her neck and found her ticklishness endearing. I touched her gently, as I had the anadi in the residence, to bring forth her desire. I set her down on her back and...

  ...stopped.

  And there I remained, unable to move, overcome by the memories and my rejection of everything in them. I tasted the wind off the plains where I'd sat for hours, trying to gain back my sense of who I was, separate from the person who'd forced himself on two Jokka who'd been so afraid of the experience they'd been sedated just to bear it.

  Kuli was not afraid. Kuli was not unwilling. But I couldn't touch her, and the shame of my failure was bitter in my mouth. I wanted to speak, to apologize, and couldn't do that either.

  Kuli struggled upright and reached, not for me, but for Hesa. "Ke eperu. Please, help us now. Help me."

  Before I could protest, Hesa bit my shoulder and worked its way up my neck until I twitched, hissed. It kissed me, and Kuli licked down the opposite shoulder, and they pulled me down to the bed. It became a confusion then of mouths and hands and fever, and the only thing that mattered was that the smell in my nose was familiar, honey and hair dye and sunlight. Kuli bent over me, her mane falling on my chest in a heavy rope, and Hesa's voice in my ear, hot and damp, whispering the same pleas I heard when it was beneath me instead—

  —when Kuli at last collapsed onto me, I curled an arm around her and closed my eyes until my panting subsided. When it did I looked down at her and found her relaxed, and on her face a look of radiant contentment. Like the sun it melted all the cold from my gut, my joints. The memories of the residence remained, but they no longer imprisoned me.

  Having ensured her wellbeing, I looked reluctantly toward my lover... who was wearing an expression so complex and yet so full of awe that I longed to ask it what it was thinking. But it shook its head and mouthed, 'Later.'

  I gently rolled us onto our sides facing Hesa and made sure Kuli was comfortable, since she did not seem likely to move. And there she fell asleep nestled between us. I set my head alongside Hesa's and allowed myself to follow.

  Several hours later, Hesa's touch on my arm brought me from slumber. When I stiffened, it whispered, "No danger. But it's near time for me to leave. It will be dawn soon."

  Kuli hadn't moved in her sleep; her head was resting on my chest beside her curled hand, and the rest of her body was cradled in the curve of Hesa's.

  "They sleep deeply, don't they?" Hesa murmured, touching the anadi's shoulder with gentle fingers. "It astonishes me. I thought emodo dreamed hard."

  "It's strange," I admitted. "I've grown accustomed to sleeping with someone who moves far more."

  It laughed, quiet. "A kind way of saying I'm restless."

  "You're eperu," I said. And looked at its face, so close to mine I could only focus on one of its eyes. "Hesa... you're well?"

  "With this?" it said. It smiled, looking down so that the light gleamed on its lashes. They were still copper. "For as long as there have been eperu, Pathen, it was their duty to help the breeders, not just in the fields, but in the caverns as well. We have always been intimately involved in the care of the anadi, in their pregnancies. We raised their children with them. It was understood that this was one of our duties... one of our roles. We facilitate."

  I smiled a little and nudged it. "Pefna, support."

  It laughed breathily. "Yes. I've always been involved in labor. Since I was good at it, I never had the chance to take part in the other duties eperu perform." It looked up at me. "Now I have. And I feel..." It inhaled and then sighed, smiling. "I feel complete." It leaned forward and kissed me, very soft, and said, amused, "You should see your face, Pathen."

  I could only imagine my expression was a mirror of its own the night before: complex, and tinged with wonder.

  "Besides," it said, "it needed to be done. You needed it."

  "Yes," I said. "I had to know..."

  "That you were not that person, or at least not only that person," Hesa finished. "And you're not. We all know it. Now, perhaps, you know too." It cupped my cheek. "I should go... I need time to wash. And I can dye my roots before the House wakes."

  "All right," I said. "Tell Darsi so he doesn't worry about coming to warn us." As it slid over me, I added, "Setasha... thank you."

  It kissed me and answered, "The gift was mutual." And touched Kuli's cheek once, and my shoulder and left.

  I looked at the anadi in my arms and saw the future of House Asara. I held her until after dawn and then I tucked my blanket around her and left her to sleep while I went to the day.

  Two days later I was in the common room having a late night tea with Abadil and Darsi when an eperu skidded in, so quickly it grabbed the doorframe to stop itself. "Ke emodo!" it cried. "The warehouse was attacked and that attack has been repelled!"

  I shoved my chair back. "Tell me we took one of them."

  "We did," it said, flushed with its anger and satisfaction. "And they're bringing him here."

  "Was anyone hurt?" Abadil asked from behind me.

  "Not badly," the eperu said.

  "Come," Darsi said. "Sit for a moment. Have something to drink." He ushered the eperu to the hearth and made sure it was recovering from the run before returning to me. "What do you want to do, Pathen?"

  "With the prisoner?" I said, fighting not to bare my teeth. "Ask questions."

  Abadil said, quiet, "We're not Claws to take prisoners, ke emodo, or to dispense with them as we see fit. That's the empire's job."

  "And if it becomes a matter for the empire to resolve," I said, "I'll ensure he's remanded to Thesenet." To Darsi, I said, "Have them bring this person to my room when they arrive."

  "Yes, ke emodo," Darsi said.

  Upstairs, I went to my chest and dug into it until I found my knife. It was still wrapped in the cloth the Claws had given me in the wilderness near the razed settlement. I unwound the fabric until the blade was naked and then hooked the grip through my sash and went to my antechamber to wait.

  I didn't have to wait long. I heard the commotion before the party arrived: Hesa, four of our eperu, four of the Claws... and one stranger, hands tied at the base of his tail, somewhat scuffed but nowhere near as bruised as I had expected.

  "Tell me," I said.

  I expected one of the Claws to answer but they deferred to Hesa, whose ears were slicked to its mane. "They waited until after we'd left for the evening to come. There were ten of them in hoods and cloaks. We came on them while they were destroying the building materials. This one wasn't as quick as his friends."

  The emodo in question didn't look sinister enough for the crimes he'd committed. There was nothing remarkable about him: he was a vague grayish brown with dark hair and a narrow face. His feet were wrapped in strips of cloth and his hands were trapped behind him so I couldn't guess if he'd been born male, which might have given me some clue as to his motivation. I considered him. My rage wanted to kill him; the rest of me wanted answers, and then to kill him. It would be safer for the prisoner for there to be witnesses to our discussion... but he might talk more if we were alone.

  "Leave him with me," I said.

  One of the Claws said, "Ke emodo? He's a dangerous male. It may be safer to have at least one person to deter him from violence."

  I took the knife from my sash and showed it to him. The weapons issued to Claws in het Narel, I'd noticed, didn't have the bone inlay meant to evoke the Stone Moon; those were limited to the first Claws of the empire, those who'd donned the uniform in het Kabbanil. My display caused widened eyes among the cohort sent by Thesenet; there was new respect in the speaker's voice when he said, "I see you can handle yourself, ke emodo."

 
; "Nevertheless," I said. "Stay outside the door, please."

  "Of course," he said, and they withdrew.

  Hesa folded its arms over its chest, teeth bared. It didn't have to speak for me to know its mind: it wanted this male for itself. It wanted to ask the questions. It wanted justice. Preferably immediate justice.

  "I'll take care of this," I told it.

  "Then we, too, will stand outside the door," Hesa said.

  "Please," I said.

  Reluctantly, it left, taking the rest of Asara's eperu with it.

  The moment the door closed I grabbed the emodo by the shirt and had him up against the wall.

  "Now," I growled. "You will tell me who sent you."

  "Or what?" the emodo said. "You'll kill m—rk!"

  I pushed the blade against his neck, just enough for him to feel it. "Don't yell," I said. "I wouldn't want you to cut yourself on this by moving too much."

  "I should have known you would resort to violence," he hissed. "Once a Claw of the empire, forever a Claw." He lifted his chin. "Go ahead, Stone Moon. Do it. It's what your masters want."

  I pulled the blade from him as abruptly as I'd threatened him with it. Stunned, he slid to the ground and I let him, stalking to the door and pulling it open. To the Claw waiting there, I said, low, "Take him to the Minister. See if someone can find out who he is and what House he's from."

  "At once, ke emodo," the Claw said, startled but recovering well.

  As his subordinates fetched the prisoner, Hesa said, "Have someone check his hands for calluses or some other sign of the work he might have normally done."

  "A good notion, ke eperu," the Claw said, and I liked the casual way he accepted the suggestion.

  "What's your name?" I asked him.

  "Ganeth, ke emodo," he said.

  "Ke Ganeth, then," I said. "Thank you for your help, and well-done. Please have the Minister contact me when he knows anything."

  "I shall," he said, and the Claws left, taking their bewildered criminal with them.

  "You let him go," Hesa said.