Ram’s story was interrupted by three more alarms from the cliff, the last a rumbling volley that lasted a full thirty seconds. The Matriarch listened as Ram explained, as best he could, why High Atellu was being flattened. He wasn’t sure that she understood all of it—she had little understanding of human customs and relationships—but she ended by thanking him, and surrendering a jar of something viscous.
He wasn’t surprised to find the streets outside much livelier than they’d been when Ninshuma led them into the shrine. The entire population of Low Atellu had gathered to point and chatter, though as far as he could tell none of them had any information to share. Many of them sounded fearful; others were only curious; a few were openly excited. Most of these people had never even set foot in High Atellu, had no cause to love it, and must have felt a certain ghoulish satisfaction that things had apparently gone so wrong there. There were several Moonchildren in the crowd, muttering amongst themselves in their own language. None of them sounded at all upset to Ram.
Whoever they were and whatever they felt, they would learn nothing tonight. The pillar of fire atop the cliff was perfectly calm now; even the screaming had stopped. Only the subtly altered skyline, barely visible in the darkness, gave any clue that anything had happened. Several people stopped them on their way back to the inn, asking if they knew anything. They received no answers.
Ram unsealed his jar as soon as they got back to their room. When Darun protested that the old eel had probably just barfed her dinner in there as a joke, he yanked her veil off and smeared a generous handful on her face. It tingled oddly on his skin. Darun spluttered, batted his hand away, and promised to cover herself thoroughly if Ram would only go away so she could do it in private.
In the other room, the four handmaidens were as depressed and somber as he’d ever seen them. Shimrun, on the other hand, was sanguine, humming to himself as he looked out the window. He turned around as Ram came in. “This changes everything, doesn’t it?” he said.
“It could,” Ram agreed. “Depending on what he decides to do from here. With this happening at two pyres now, less than a tetrad apart, it could start a panic. I don’t know what will happen from there.”
Shimrun frowned. “Huh. If you say so. But we have an ally now! And a shelter!”
“I’m not sure I’d want Mannagiri as an ally. He seems unstable. And isn’t this almost exactly what you wanted to avoid doing in Dul Karagi?”
He shrugged. “We did almost the same thing, didn’t we? This might be the only way.” Mana started to cry; Rinti put an arm around her, and glared at her ensi, who didn’t notice. “We don’t get to choose our partners here, Ram. Even if Mannagiri isn’t perfect—“
“If he’s a twitchy butcher, you mean—“
“He is still our friend and helper. Nobody else has given us this kind of assistance.”
“Oh, hell. Shennai? What’s your take on this?”
“I think it’s too soon to speculate, Rammash. We don’t know that Mannagiri has control of this pyre. He could still be killed.”
“It sounds like he’s secured himself in the Temple,” Shimrun said. “If they haven’t reached him by now, and he can get food and water in with handmaidens, he’s won. Hasn’t he?”
“For now, sure,” Ram said. “Who’s going to grow the food?”
“There are farms on the bank. The bondservants will keep tending them.”
“Who’s going to keep all those bondservants clothed, and buy them new tools? Who’s going to repair their houses? Who’s going to make their grain into bread and beer, or turn their wool into clothes? Who’s going to keep the Moonchildren from snatching the field-hands away to sell them somewhere else? Hell, who’s going to keep them from volunteering to be snatched, so they can go work somewhere less scary?”
“Do you think he should have remained imprisoned by the acolytes forever, then?”
“What? When did I say that?”
“This discussion can wait for later, Ram,” Pimna said, jerking her head towards the two frightened girls.
It wasn’t like he was getting through to Shimrun anyhow. Ram left off to go check on his sister. “How’s it going, Mana?”
She sniffled, rubbing at her eyes. “How do you think it’s going?” Rinti answered for her. “She’s only nine, and you got her mixed up in all this!”
That was debatable, but Ram didn’t bother. “I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t want it to go this way either. Is there anything I can do to make it better?”
“I’m twelve,” Rinti snapped, refusing to be placated. “I don’t know what we’re supposed to do here.”
“Guess I’ll ask you in four blooms, then,” he muttered as he walked out the door, “when you’re my age, and know everything.”
Darun was covered in ointment now, and lying down on the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Slimy. I feel slimy. It’s been like two minutes, Ram.”
“I know,” he said, sitting down on the bed and laying a hand on her leg. “I just want you to be as happy as I can make you.” He paused. “There is another way, though. We could make you just as beautiful as you were before. In an instant. We’d just have to get you into Dul Karagi at the next bloom, and have Shimrun help.”
“After what we just saw, you think I want to try that? No way, honey. I’ll take the burns.”
“I’d never treat you like that.”
“No, I don’t think you would. But what happens in ten blooms, after you’re gone? I’ll be in my thirties. That’s another, oh, four kindlings, maybe, with four different messed-up men around to jerk on my chain. No. Hell no.”
Was she thinking kindlings in advance now? That was odd—and perhaps reassuring. “I know. You need your freedom.”
“Yeah, and that’s another thing, I couldn’t leave the pyre, either. Not without feeling like crap. You don’t feel right here, I can tell.”
“I get used to it. You can get used to a lot.”
“I don’t want to get used to anything. Let the world get used to me, for a change.”
“Sure. Scoot over, would you?” He couldn’t put an arm around her burnt side, but he could get a bit closer. It would have to do. The ointment smelled strange, but surprisingly pleasant—a bit like wood. “I don’t get how that crazy little man is doing all this. I’d never imagine Shimrun acting this way.”
“Mmm. People are different. Don’t you feel tired? It’s late.”
“I’ve got a lot to think about.”
“It can wait till morning. Rest. Sleep.”
It was good advice, as it turned out; they were awakened early the next morning by a woman’s voice shouting at him from his doorway: “En! You are all wanted at the Temple!”
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Ram rolled over in bed. The woman was dressed in proper handmaiden’s clothes this time. He thought her voice sounded like Ninshuma’s, but he couldn’t be sure. “My name is Rammash,” he told her. “And can’t you knock? Or just send a message, instead of taking her over like that? I don’t think she likes it.”
“No, I can’t,” Mannagiri said, putting his mouthpiece’s hands on her hips. “Get dressed while I offer my greetings to your master.” She swept off to bellow into the next room.
Rinti sat up on her bedroll on the floor, rubbing her eyes. “What’s going on?” She put out a hand to check on Mana, who was curled up in the mass of blankets next to her.
“Wish I knew,” Ram told her. “He wants us to come see him, I guess. We’d better get ready quickly, before he sets the building on fire.” He’d slept in his clothes anyway, what with having to share his room with the girls, and none of his other clothes were much fresher than what he had on. It wasn’t likely that Mannagiri would appreciate it if they were. He only wanted a moment to pack up his things, and apply fresh ointment to Darun. Her blisters didn’t look so bad today.
Minutes later, they were out on the street again, following whoever-it-was a short distance to another shop on the island’s west coast, the kind that specialized in preserved foods for long journeys. It wasn’t open yet, and neither were most of the buildings around it—but they weren’t there to shop. Mannagiri led them confidently through a room cluttered with giant pots and out the back door to the shop’s landing, where another handmaiden held a skybarque steady against the Teshalun’s current. Ram hadn’t known they could float on water. Maybe the lift from the sail helped?
“Where is your third?” Shennai asked.
“I’m only taking you up the cliff. It’s hard enough keeping two of them in line.”
If he was directly controlling both of them, that was hardly reassuring—Ram thought of Ninshuma’s shock every time he released her, and imagined the barque falling out of the sky if Mannagiri got distracted—but the Ensi would bear no argument, and shooed them on board. He was further alarmed by the jolting sensation as they took off; even Mana could lift them more smoothly now. The craft wobbled as it rose over the top of Low Atellu, then swung around to face the cliffs before tilting its nose up and lurching forward. They all flopped to the deck, scrabbling at the railing or whatever else came to hand so they wouldn’t roll to the back end of the ship.
Ram had barely started swearing at Mannagiri when they crested the clifftops and leveled off again. High Atellu looked like it had been a pleasant enough place, dominated by broad belts of lovingly tended parks and gardens. These were largely untouched; the buildings between were less fortunate, but less ravaged than Urapu’s, or even the north end of Karagi. The largest expanse of rubble, Ram guessed, had once been their lugal’s palace. Several other buildings had been smashed, seemingly at random, throughout High Atellu. Most of the residences, however, seemed to be intact.
They landed in a plaza right at the foot of the Temple. Ram would have liked to take a moment to look around; he was in no hurry to meet their demented benefactor in person. Mannagiri evidently felt differently, and had the handmaidens hustle them up the formidable stairs with the same impetuous haste as ever. What was the hurry, he wondered? He took a moment on the landing to look around—the streets were deserted, the pyre at perfect peace. He could only see one person, standing before a rubble-strewn gap in the wall, and that one was indwelt.
Darun followed his gaze. “He smashed the gates in, huh?”
“Looks like it,” he agreed, keeping his voice low. Was that to keep people from coming in—or from getting out? Before he could speculate further, the guardian murrush snapped at them to hurry up, because Mannagiri didn’t need the hassle of sending someone to fetch stragglers. It was strange how he could make even a murrush’s deep, solemn voice sound petulant.
Atellu’s temple was much the same as Karagi’s, on the inside: a labyrinth of dim and narrow passageways with no clear organization. The handmaiden led them to a large room, very similar to where he had met Mana on his first day at Dul Karagi. Five young men, barely more than boys, sat in a circle on the floor before a carved wooden chair, where a sixth boy about the same age sat slumped over in immaculate white robes.
“Hail, sons and daughters of Karagi,” their handmaiden told them. “I’m sorry I can’t get up to greet you.”
“You can at least speak for yourself,” Ram reproved him.
“You would think,” the handmaiden said. On the throne, the boy lifted his head, then let it flop back against the back of his chair, and slid ever-so-slightly lower in the seat. He might have been Ram’s age, but was barely larger than Shimrun under the robes. Even his neck was terribly thin. The lids drooped low over his eyes; his mouth hung open between gaunt and pale cheeks. “I haven’t spoken with my own voice for most of a kindling now, or moved with my own strength. I don’t have any strength.”
“We are sorry to hear that, Lord,” Shennai offered.
“It makes me easier to underestimate,” a different handmaiden said as she came into the room behind them. “How much practice have you had commanding your brides this way, brother of Dul Karagi?”
“Not much,” Shimrun replied, after a second’s hesitation.
“I have eight blooms’ worth,” the handmaiden boasted, stepping around them to haul the body on the throne back up into a proper sitting position, then wedging him into place with pillows. She did it all very smoothly. “They didn’t have any other way to hear me. They could have been more careful, but they were all stupid and lazy. They let me do more and more to take care of myself, so they wouldn’t have to pay attention. You see how they’ve paid for it now.
“I’d been wondering, for a long time, if I really needed those nutless fat men around. I knew more than enough to take care of myself—in fact, I’d been taking care of my brothers too, lately. All the acolytes were doing was collecting money for no work. But I wasn’t sure it was the right choice until you came along, brother Shimrun. Thank you. Now I see it all, what the God has planned. Together, we can change the Dominion.”
“I hope we can,” Shimrun said.
“Hope! How can they stop us? They’re only human. By the way, brother, can you sire children? I think I would have a hard time with it.”
“No. I can’t.”
“Oh, well. Maybe your en can help a bit. There’s no real hurry here, it can wait till after the next bloom.”
Ram raised a tentative hand. “What do you mean by—“
“Never mind that now. It was only an idea. But I’ve got a lot to talk about with my new friend and brother here, so let me take you to a better room than that trash-heap you were sleeping in before. We have spares.” The other handmaiden, who had escorted them in, gestured at the door.
Ram looked to Shimrun, who nodded. It was probably best to humor the lunatic, for now. Besides, Ram could pump Shimrun for information about the interview later. So he took Darun by her good left arm, and followed their enthralled guide out at the stateliest pace he could contrive. The last words they heard before they left were, “Speaking of the next bloom, we’ve got to get a spirit in that girl, brother. She looks like dog-meat.”
Darun stumbled, but only for a moment. Ram gave her hand a gentle squeeze, and they carried on. The other women and the girls were right behind them. Their guide led them up a flight of stairs to a decent-sized room lit by a dulsphere. It was wonderfully furnished, hardwood and marble, but Ram would rather have kept on living at the grubby little inn. Aside from its proximity to Mannagiri, it was discomfiting to think that this room had probably belonged to an acolyte yesterday.
The handmaiden fell against the doorframe as soon as she’d led them into the room, and went off down the hallway sobbing. Ram didn’t even try to cheer her up—what could he say? He felt a bit like crying himself, and his situation was vastly better than hers. His family was alive and safe, and Shimrun could be reasoned with.
“Well, at least it’s nice and clean,” Darun said as she plunked herself down on the bed. “How long do you reckon we’re staying?”
“We should be safer here than we were anywhere else,” he said cautiously. Mannagiri might eavesdrop. “And we all need some rest.” He sat down next to Darun, and put a delicate arm around her. “How are you feeling?”
“Uck. The ointment itches a little, but it doesn’t hurt so much anymore.” She laid her head on his shoulder and breathed, “We’re in some deep shit now, aren’t we?”
“Like we weren’t before?”
“Not like this. Did you miss the part where he wants to add me to his doll collection?”
“He said until the bloom. He might forget or change his mind before then.”
“Yeah, he might decide to strangle me instead, because I’m not pretty enough.” She shook in his arms. “Or pass me around for his ‘brothers.’ You’ve never met anyone like him, Ram. I have, lots of times. When a mine drudge is so low he can’t find anyone lower to spit on, he’ll find himself a whore who just turned thirteen, who doesn’t know any better, and show her a bit of copper he snitched so she’ll go away with him. He won’t last long, but he won’t be gentle, and when he’s done he’ll wave the copper in her face and walk off laughing. Not because he wants the copper. Because she does.
“You know why Mannagiri controls the girls so much? Because they don’t want him to. That’s who’s in charge here. That’s who we’re dealing with.”
“Keep your voice down.”
“He already knows we despise him. He assumes it. Everyone he’s ever met has despised him. He doesn’t even like himself.”
“You just met him.” But she was right—their present situation was hopeless. Even if Mannagiri had been genuinely helpful, it wouldn’t have been enough. They needed help, and more than help. They needed a refuge, and answers for all the questions Ram still had. And it seemed to Ram, as he drew Darun closer, that they could find all three in the same place. Even if the third was a gamble.
“I think maybe I can get us out of here. But there’s a catch. Do you feel up to visiting your sister again?”