The Inetkegul looked perplexed, and Linsha offered him her most persuasive smile. He’d probably never had a woman from the Akeelawasee come out and ask to sit on his walls. He talked for a few minutes with his guards while Linsha waited, and eventually he nodded to her.
“You may stay for a short while, but you will go when I tell you. And Ruthig will stay with you.”
She glanced up the towering Tarmak he indicated and shrugged. All four of them could stand around her, as long they let her see beyond the wall. With deliberate care she chose a place in full view of the Tarmaks, climbed carefully to the top, and sat down cross-legged on the sun-warmed stone. The wind from the sea teased her hair and filled her nose with the smell of saltwater. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. The wind was out of the west, and although she could smell nothing but warm rock and cool sea, she fancied that this same wind had swept over Ansalon a few days before and still carried some essence of her homeland on its capricious breezes.
She had come a long way to look over this wall, but she did not look down immediately. Instead she cast her eyes to the sea beyond the harbor, to the northern Courrain Ocean that gleamed a blue-gray in the late morning light and rolled endlessly south toward home and freedom. She looked far beyond the distant shores of the bay, past the dark towers of the Orchemenarc, and concentrated on the hazy horizon between water and sky, and when she had that vision indelibly etched into her memory, she closed her eyes and turned her focus inward to the secret recesses of her heart and the power she knew beat there.
She had not tried this in a long while simply because she had failed so often it was hardly worth the effort. But she had learned why from Danian at the gathering at the Grandfather Tree-the spirits of the dead drained the power for their own purposes. She had never learned why the spirits had been trapped in the living world or why they needed the energy; all she knew were the effects of their desperate hunger. But this place was far from Ansalon and the wars that plagued that troubled land. Maybe, just maybe, the souls were not here.
She drew deeper into herself, putting away the discomforts of her sore eye and aching throat, her wounded hand and stiff muscles, until the world receded from her and she found at last the tranquility she had so desperately missed. Her heartbeat slowed; her muscles relaxed. Slowly she gathered the mystic power of her heart and spread it out through her body to soothe her pain, strengthen her limbs, and invigorate her mind. It flowed through her body, a warm, tingling intoxication that fired her body and her spirit. The spell was almost complete when she felt the familiar faint tickle on her face and neck. The power suddenly drained from her like water from a broken cup and there was nothing she could do to stop it. The spell broke and vanished. She sighed. Apparently there were hungry souls here, too, and the magic was gone for now. At least the spell had worked long enough to serve its purpose. She felt stronger and more vigorous than she had in days.
A hand prodded her back and she heard a voice say, “Drathkin’kela, the guards will be changing soon. You must go.”
She pulled herself back to the world, to the external sounds of the sea below her, to the smells, and the heat, and the wind. Opening her eyes, she looked at the sea’s horizon then let her eyes slide slowly downward until she was staring at the edge of the cliff. Her face lightened into a broad smile.
Over the Wall
10
Afec was waiting for her when she came back from the midday meal. He looked her over carefully and said, “I know my skills are as good as any Keena’s, but I don’t believe I have seen anyone heal as fast as you. The swelling is almost gone from your eye, the bruises are gone from your throat, and look at your hand! The cut has closed over already.”
Linsha made a noncommittal shrug. “That blue paint works wonders,” she said.
Of course he didn’t entirely believe her, but when she wasn’t more forthcoming, he led her to a quiet room away from the noise and bustle of the early afternoon activities and spent an hour telling her the schedule of events of a royal Tarmak wedding and her expected role.
She listened for a while and picked up the gist of the ceremony. There would be many prayers, a blessing of the couple, and a procession where she had to walk while Lanther rode a horse. The bride was supposed to be accompanied by family and attendants, but since Linsha had none, she would walk alone as befitted the Drathkin’kela. There seemed to be much talking and feasting involved. That was good. She didn’t even want to think about-let alone discuss-the wedding night. She understood from Lanther’s pronouncement the night before that the wedding night would begin immediately and wouldn’t end until he set sail for the Missing City. Her mind balked at that and began to wander elsewhere while she thought of ways to hide a small dirk in her dress. Or did the Tarmaks wed naked like they fought? Now there was an image that made her stomach churn. No, Afec had mentioned a dress at one point. Her thoughts trailed away on another tangent.
A yawn sneaked up on her and slipped out before she could stop it. If Afec noticed he did not stop. He continued in his modulated voice telling her about her greetings to the Empress and the Emperor. Obviously the marriage of an Akkad was an important event and the Tarmaks made the most of it with much drinking and feasting. She yawned again, and this time Afec broke off his talking and sent her to her pallet with strict instructions to rest.
Before he left her, he gripped her wrist. “Do not plan anything for tonight,” he whispered. “I am looking for something that might help. If you wait, I feel the weather will change tomorrow.”
Linsha squeezed his hand in reply and without argument went to her room. She was smiling. It seemed she had a new weapon in her arsenaclass="underline" an ally.
Linsha did not think she had slept at all, but when Callista entered the tiny sleeping chamber, she started awake and saw the room was nearly dark. The buxom courtesan laid a small lamp on the table and posed in place.
“What do you think?” she asked, pride and a little mischief clear in her voice. Linsha squinted in the dim light and saw the courtesan looked rather more buxom and plump than usual under her plain linen shift.
Callista flashed a grin, reached under her shift, and pulled out a wad of dark fabric. “Tarmaks do not pay attention to slaves. I found these in the laundry and borrowed them.” She laid the clothing on Linsha’s recumbent form and dropped down beside her to see her reaction.
Sitting up, Linsha held the clothes up to the light. The busy courtesan had found a dark green silk tunic-probably from one of the minor nobles who lived in the second circle of offices, treasuries, and craft rooms. The pants were a pair of heavy silk formal pants that on a tall Tarmak would reach only to the knees. On Linsha they were baggy and came neatly to her ankles.
Linsha hugged the courtesan in gratitude. “These will work quite well. Thank you!”
“If they help us get off this forsaken island, I would steal the wardrobe of the Empress herself,” Callista replied fiercely.
“Are you sure you want to risk an escape?” Linsha asked. She wanted to be sure of the young woman before she committed either one of them to such a risky endeavor. “We do have a choice. We can stay here and hope Lanther will eventually come back for us. We can wait here and hope Crucible is still alive and tries to find us. Or,” she paused, her intent in deadly earnest, “we can try to convince Sirenfal to fly us out. If we can find a way to release her, and if she is strong enough to fly.”