Slowly, grudgingly, the thing retreated to the depths of the girl’s soul and crawled into the lair that it maintained there. Not that it had yielded; but it had given ground. There was hope now that Nialli Apuilana could fight the rest of the battle herself. Boldirinthe had done all she could.
To Friit the offering-woman said, “Take command of her now, I beg you, and give her strength.”
“Yes, I will do that,” the god replied.
“And you, Dawinno. Emakkis. Mueri. Yissou.”
“Yes,” said each of them in turn.
Boldirinthe made a passageway for them, and the gods entered her, uniting themselves with the auras of themselves that were already within her. They bolstered Nialli Apuilana where she was flagging, and restored her where she was weakened, and filled her where she had been drained.
Then, one by one, they departed.
The last of them to leave was Mueri, who paused and touched Boldirinthe’s own soul, embracing it most tenderly as Torlyri might have embraced her long ago. Then Mueri too was gone.
Nialli Apuilana stirred. Her eyes opened. She blinked several times, very quickly. She frowned. She smiled.
“Sleep, girl,” Boldirinthe said. “You’ll be strong again when you wake.”
Nialli Apuilana nodded dreamily. Turning to Sipulakinain, Boldirinthe said, “Send in Taniane. Only Taniane.”
The chieftain brought a cloud of worry in with her; but it dissipated the moment she saw the change in Nialli Apuilana. At once her own vigor returned, and the light flooded back into her eyes. Boldirinthe was too tired for gratitude. “Yes, the job’s done, and done well,” she said. “Keep that crowd out of here, now. Let the girl rest. Afterward, warm broths, the juice of fresh fruits. She’ll be up and around in a couple of days, good as new, I promise you.”
“Boldirinthe—”
“Not necessary,” the offering-woman said. The girl’s eyes were closed again. She had slipped into a deep, healthy, healing sleep. Auras glowed around her. But Boldirinthe still could see the wounded Nest-creature crouching deep behind the outer aspect, the hidden hjjk within, glowing like an angry red sore, and she shivered a little.
She knew, though, that she had dealt it a terrible blow. The rest was up to Nialli Apuilana. And to the Five.
“Help me up,” she said, wheezing a little, patting her brow. “Or get one or two of the others, if you can’t do it alone.”
Taniane laughed. And raised her easily from her bench, as though Boldirinthe were no bigger than a child.
Outside, in the gray stone hallway where green glowglobes flickered, Husathirn Mueri approached her and took her by the arm. He looked edgy and forlorn.
“Will she live, Boldirinthe?”
“Of course she’ll live. Never any doubt about that.”
She tried to move on. This day she had gone down into the deepest abyss and returned from it, a costly business, hard on the soul. She had no wish to stand here chattering with Husathirn Mueri now.
But he was holding her. Wouldn’t let her go. A warm insincere grin starting to spread across his face.
“You’re too modest,” he said. “I know a little of the healing arts myself. That girl was dying until you came here to treat her.”
“Well, she’s not dying now.”
“You have my deepest gratitude.”
“I’m sure that I do.”
She stared at him a long moment, trying to see behind his words. There were always meanings behind his meanings. Even when he sneezed it seemed somehow devious.
Finding Husathirn Mueri likable was something that Boldirinthe had never managed to do, which troubled her, for she disliked disliking anyone; and he was Torlyri’s son, which made the matter worse. She had loved Torlyri as she loved her own mother. And here was Husathirn Mueri, quick and clever and handsome, and warmhearted, after a fashion, and looking a good deal like Torlyri with those brilliant white stripes running through his black fur; and Boldirinthe couldn’t like him at all. It was his slyness, she thought, and his unbridled ambition. Where had those traits come from? Not from Torlyri, certainly. Nor from his father, that hard and austere Beng warrior. Well, she told herself, the gods have their mysteries. Each one of us is a special mystery of the gods.
Softly Husathirn Mueri said, “You know that I love her.”
Boldirinthe shrugged. “So do we all.”
“I meant in another fashion.”
“Yes. Of course you do.”
His foolishness saddened her. She had no wish to see anyone hurt himself this way. Wasn’t Husathirn Mueri aware how strange she was, the girl he claimed to love? He must at least suspect by now that she had taken Kundalimon as her lover. And that after refusing the best young men the city had to offer. Well, Kundalimon was dead; perhaps Husathirn Mueri no longer regarded him as important. But what would he say if he knew that he had another and greater rival, no less than the Queen of Hjjks? How he would turn away in horror! But he’d have to twine with Nialli Apuilana to find it out, and Boldirinthe doubted that he had much chance of that.
She moved on, slowly, toward the outer door.
“May I have a few more words with you?” Husathirn Mueri asked.
“If you walk with me. Standing in one place is unpleasant for me, now that I’m so huge.”
“Let me carry your satchel.”
“The satchel is my holy burden. What do you want to say to me, Husathirn Mueri?”
She thought it would be something more about Nialli Apuilana. But instead he said, “Are you aware, Boldirinthe, that some sort of cult is already beginning to spring up around the murdered ambassador from the hjjks?”
“I know there’s a shrine of some sort in his memory, yes.”
“More than just a shrine.” He licked his lips nervously. “I have the guardsmen’s reports. The children are praying to him. And not only the children, but it started with them. They’ve got some little bits of his clothing, and things from his room, hjjk things that somehow were taken after he died. Boldirinthe, they’re making him into a god!”
“Are they?” she said indifferently. “Well, such things happen from time to time. As they please. It’ll change nothing for me. The Five remain sufficient for my needs.”
Sourly he said, “I didn’t expect you to start worshiping Kundalimon. But doesn’t this trouble you at all?”
“Why does it trouble you?”
“Don’t you understand, Boldirinthe, they’re setting up a boy who was half hjjk by spirit, or more than half, as a figure of power in the city! They want favors from him. They want guidance. And they’ll confer favors in return. Do you really want to see a new religion get started here? A new priesthood, new temples, new ideas? Anything could come out of that. Anything. While Kundalimon was alive he went around preaching Nest-stuff to them, and suggesting to them that they follow him back to the Nest. And the children loved it. They ate it up. I have absolute proof of that. What if this — this cult — falls under the control of someone who can build on what Kundalimon was starting? Will we all find ourselves loving the hjjks, and begging them to love us? Will Nakhaba and the Five be swept away? You’re too casual about it, Boldirinthe. This will grow only worse, and very rapidly, like fire spreading in the drylands. I can feel it. I’m not without a certain shrewdness in these matters, you know.”
His face was flushed and disquieted. His amber eyes, gleaming with feverish excitement, were like polished glass beads. Something was at work in him, no doubt of that. She could not remember having seen him so agitated, it wasn’t much like Husathirn Mueri to display such open emotion.