The boy and girl each placed a bowl on the table—one of squash, one of corn—and bowed to Ses-Xipil. The boy had a bandage around his head. He’d just earned his eye tattoo and it hadn’t healed yet. Zandrue had seen him about a couple of times, but she didn’t have much interaction with the students.
“Thank you,” Ses-Xipil said. “You may leave us.”
As the boy and girl left, Ses-Xipil selected a still-steaming ear of corn and began to peel it. The heat didn’t seem to affect her calloused fingers. “He said he was your brother. An obvious lie, even to someone who doesn’t know you as I do. However, Nin-Xoco seemed not to notice. She seemed very taken by him. That woman is none too bright. However, I am curious. What is your relation to him? You’ve never said, and I never thought to ask.” She pushed the bowl of corn towards Zandrue.
“I knew getting into Ninifin would be dangerous and I needed some muscle.” Zandrue selected an ear of corn. It was hot and she dropped it onto her plate. “So I hired him. Paid him enough not to ask too many questions. He was good with horses, so one way to pay back Fra-Mecatl and her brother was for him to tend their horses. They believed we were lovers.”
“Were you lovers?” Ses-Xipil asked.
Zandrue looked down at her plate and tried to pull the hot leaves off the corn.
“There is no need to be embarrassed.”
“It helped keep him compliant,” Zandrue said.
“Of course it did. You also need not be embarrassed if you enjoyed it, no matter what you might have been taught.”
Zandrue managed to pull a leaf off the corn, allowing some of the steam to escape. She looked up and Ses-Xipil smiled at her.
“Let me guess. Ofstakim told you, you should be willing to seduce humans to get what you want, but you should never enjoy it. Enjoying it would make you unclean, unworthy of reward in the afterlife.”
“Something like that,” Zandrue said. Her mother had drilled it into her, too, when she was too young to even understand it.
“As I have told you many times now,” Ses-Xipil said, “that man is a dangerous idiot. He has no idea what it’s really like in the field. You would be far from the first arcraime to enjoy taking a human lover. I myself do not prefer them, but when there is no one else to choose from, they are better than nothing. And I am not ashamed to admit most of my human lovers have been for pleasure not business. You will not suffer in the afterlife because of it. Ofstakim is preaching archaic beliefs.”
Zandrue managed to peel the remaining leaves from the corn, while Ses-Xipil bit into hers. “Thank you. I know all that in principle, but sometimes childhood experiences are hard to ignore.”
Ses-Xipil nodded. “I know that only too well. However, I’m sure I don’t need to mention this, but just to be sure, you must make no attempt to see him or otherwise contact him.”
“I know. And you have my word that I won’t.”
“Good. His presence at the palace means any hope of getting you in there will not happen now. But no matter. I think I have a better place to put you anyway. I can tell you no more of it until I’ve spoken to Fra-Ichtaca, but I’m sure once she’s heard my plan, she will agree. You will not need to spend much more time doing common servants’ chores.”
“That’s good. I’m eager to start real work.” That was a lie, but Ses-Xipil—real name Tadstaime—was not good at detecting lies, which made her comments about Nin-Xoco almost funny. It was becoming hard to lie to her, though. Not because she was likely to notice the lie, but because Zandrue didn’t like lying to her.
“I know you are,” Tadstaime said. “I needed some time to be sure of you, but I am now willing to take a risk. Don’t disappoint me.”
“I won’t.”
Why did people have to be so complex? Tadstaime was a Darker, for gods’ sake. Yet she had shown Zandrue nothing but kindness. It hadn’t even been two weeks, and Zandrue was starting to see her as a mother-figure.
She grew attachments too easily. Felitïa. Rudiger. She knew that. It was why she had never been suited to life as arcraime.
Gods, Rudiger. She wanted to see him more than anything, and she was beginning to think she’d never see him again.
That hadn’t been the plan. She had intended to return as soon as the galdraif concluded. In a fit of rage, she had screamed at Rudiger about not coming back, but she hadn’t meant those words. And now, he must think she did.
Tadstaime continued to talk while they ate, filling Zandrue in on various aspects of the court that Fra-Mecatl hadn’t gotten to. Zandrue responded when called upon, but otherwise remained silent, only half listening, her mind stuck on Rudiger.
She had known a galdraif was likely to occur. It was why she had refused to go to Scovese with Felitïa, part of why she had resisted coming to Ninifin. Outside Ninifin, it would have been easier to find an excuse to get away for a week. Even so, she’d worked out an excuse, a whole story to give both Rudiger and Fra-Mecatl for why she had to disappear for a while. But when it had come time to give it, she just couldn’t lie to Rudiger. Stupid. So stupid.
If she had told the lie as planned, it probably wouldn’t have changed events that resulted in her being here now, but at least her last time with Rudiger wouldn’t have ended up an argument. He might actually be trying to find her, instead of becoming Fra-Mecatl’s next plant in the palace. At least, she assumed that’s what he was doing. It made sense of his actions.
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The galdraif had been an easy one—easy compared to last year’s delgaldraif. That had been the worst it would ever get. From now on, each would be easier and less frequent. So she’d been told. She was actually surprised it had been almost a year since the last. That was comforting. Less lying to Felitïa and Rudiger. Then again, maybe it was time she told them the truth so there’d be no lying at all. No need for stupid arguments.
Gods, she’d really fucked things up with that.
She’d been considering telling Rudiger everything when she returned. She hadn’t made a final decision and gods knew if she would have gone through with it if she had, but she had at least been considering it as she walked along the road south of the city of Ninifin, on her way back to Fra-Mecatl and Fra-Tepeu’s ranch. She was going to stop in the City and find some mollifying gifts to buy for Fra-Mecatl and Rudiger, and was readying herself mentally for their probable anger at her and to make sure she didn’t respond in anger.
As she neared the City, there was a small group up ahead coming towards her: a covered wagon painted yellow with an escort of a dozen warriors. A priest of Sestin. Probably an important one.
Zandrue stood to the side of the road and bowed her head. “Sestin’s blessings on her Reverence,” she said to the warriors as they passed. A woman was looking out the wagon’s window.
They had only gone a short distance past Zandrue—just far enough that she was about to continue on her way—when the wagon came to a stop and one of the warriors called out, “You! Halt!”
Zandrue stopped. The warrior was approaching her. “Her Reverence has asked to speak to you.”
“Of course. I’m happy to speak with her Reverence.” It was inconvenient, but not worrying. The priest had probably noticed she wasn’t a Ninifin and was curious. She just needed to drop Fra-Mecatl’s name, as the priest had probably heard that there was an outsider with the elderly priest of Frana.
The warrior led her to the back of the wagon and knocked on the door.
“Enter,” a voice called from inside.
The warrior opened the door and Zandrue climbed onto the step. She put a foot into the wagon and a scent hit her nose—a scent she hadn’t smelled in a very long time.
Zandrue’s first instinct was run. But she’d be dead in seconds if she did that. She forced herself to continue into the wagon. This way, she might have minutes remaining to her life.
The older priest of Sestin inside stared at her, eyes wide and mouth half-open. There was no way she could have smelled Zandrue on the road from inside the wagon, but she had to have smelled her now. “In,” she said after a moment. “Sit.”
She turned to the teenage girl in the wagon with her. The girl wore a yellow robe but did not have the eye tattoo. Either she hadn’t earned it yet or she lacked magical potential. “Out,” the priest said.
“Reverence?”
“You heard me. Out. I wish to speak to this outsider alone. I think I know who she is, and what I have to say to her is not for your ears. You will walk with the guards to the villa.”
The girl bowed. “Yes, Reverence.” She hurried out of the wagon, closing the door behind her.
Zandrue sat in the seat the girl had vacated and looked across at the priest. The older woman had a thin face—not thin from lack of food like so many Ninifins, but naturally thin. Her hair was mostly grey and her skin was starting to show hints of wrinkles. Like all wizard priests of Sestin, she bore a tattoo of an eye on her forehead. Zandrue couldn’t be sure, but she suspected this person was Ses-Xipil, Voice of Sestin. She matched the description. But if she was, that meant Ninifin had far worse people in control of it than even Fra-Mecatl thought.
“Name,” the priest said.
“Zandromeda Armida.”
“I mean real name. And your division controller.”
Zandrue had known what the priest meant, but she needed some time to think. She could give a false name, but not having had any time to prepare a cover story, she could be found out with a couple incorrect answers to questions. Or she could give her real name and hope this woman had been in Ninifin too long to recognise it. To become the high priest of Sestin, she would have had to be here a long time. Of course, she would still have some contact with home, but Zandrue hoped it was infrequent enough that she wouldn’t have bothered keeping up on the identities of any carcraime.
“Lacquaime, Daughter of Emclenim of the Warrior Caste. My division controller is Ofstakim, Son of Efdratim of the Warrior Caste.”
Zandrue held her breath.
“You poor thing,” the priest replied. “I would never wish Ofstakim on anyone. That man is an idiot, and a dangerous one at that. I am Tadstaime, Daughter of Afragim of the Warrior Caste, but I presume you know that. Why are you here?”
Zandrue let out her breath. On the one hand, she was relieved she hadn’t been recognised, but on the other hand, she now had to come up with a cover story for being here. “I was sent to find you and be your assistant.” She held her breath again.
“Really.” Tadstaime sighed. “Of course, nobody saw fit to tell me. I suppose this has something to do with the ceremony at New Year’s?”
“I don’t know. I was just told that I was to serve you.” Playing ignorant on this would help avoid other questions she couldn’t answer. She hoped.
“Typical. There are too many secrets these days. The left hand doesn’t know what the right is doing half the time. I don’t need an assistant and I don’t want one. However, as you’re here, we should find something for you to do. We are headed to my villa by the Toucan. We will talk more there where I can set up a space where we won’t be overheard. For now, remain quiet so I can think. Keep in mind, when we are amongst Ninifins, I am Ses-Xipil, Voice of Sestin. Address and treat me appropriately.”
Zandrue nodded.
Ses-Xipil’s villa was a lot like Fra-Mecatl’s ranch. There was a lot of open land, though with a few more trees, and it was closer to the Toucan than Fra-Mecatl’s was to the Jaguar. The main house was a little larger than Fra-Mecatl’s, though of the same style. The kitchen building, however, was quite a bit bigger than Fra-Mecatl’s. There was also no barn, but there was a servants’ building. And there was another, smaller building. Unlike the others at the villa, it was made of stone with a hole in the centre of its roof. It turned out to be a sauna and was where Ses-Xipil took Zandrue when they arrived.
They sat there in silence for several minutes while the servants heated the stones and brought pails of water. Once the servants were finished and had left, Ses-Xipil—Tadstaime; Zandrue wasn’t sure what name to think of her with—flicked both of her hands towards the door and a bar of metal sprung into being across it, blocking it from opening. She then brought her closed fists up against her face, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. After a moment, she opened her eyes and punched her hands at the air in front of her, fully extending her arms. The walls, ceiling, and floor began to shimmer.
Ses-Xipil stumbled back onto one of the stone benches. Zandrue rushed over to her, but she held up her hand. “It’s all right. That is a difficult spell and takes a lot out of me. However, the field will block sound from travelling in or out of the building. It will prevent anyone eavesdropping on us. It is a little unpredictable how long it will last, but we should have about an hour. Pour a bit more water on the stones, have a seat, and enjoy the sweat house for a minute or two while I catch my breath.”
Zandrue did as she was told, then sat down. She couldn’t enjoy the sauna, however. She was too busy trying to come up with answers to potential questions, and thinking about ways she could escape if she needed to. And thinking about the fact she was probably going to die soon.