That would come next. It was only a matter of time. With each step they took down the path of corruption, the next became easier.
The Star of Life army had occupied Toskala for almost six months.
With a sigh, he stood. He walked among the envoys and servants, commending them on their night's watch or reminding himself of their day's coming activities. The men must eat a scant bowl of porridge before they went out of the compound to work on building projects for the occupiers. Three times, now, young envoys had not returned, having been killed or imprisoned for what reason he could not fathom; he told them to keep their heads down and their mouths shut. Yet occupiers need have no reason as long as they held the sword and you held nothing. The males must go out so the females could remain inside or else risk multiple indignities. Therefore, the women gardened in the courtyard for such sparse gleanings as they could coax from its reluctant dirt, including the terig leaf they sold to the soldiers for a few paltry vey. All other work within the compound they accomplished as well, shut away within the walls. They raked the dirt into complex patterns, just to lend variety to their day. It was a cruel life to be so confined. Not one complained. No one within the temple had starved yet.
'Holy One, before you go out, please eat.' Doni and Seyra waited with a steaming bowl of nai porridge.
They would plague him until he ate, or threaten him by refusing to eat until he did. So he ate. The nai was bland but filling; his
mouth hungered for it, but his heart rebelled because so many in the city had no nai porridge to ease their belly's ache.
Trying to hide their relieved smiles, they hurried away with the empty bowl.
'Make sure you rest!' he called after them. 'Tired eyes cannot see and tired ears cannot hear!'
The nai sat well in his belly. His legs felt stronger. It was time to go-
He tied an empty bag to his belt for the rations chits he would be issued and clasped his blue ostiary's cloak around his neck. Finally, he drank deeply of cool water from the ladle hanging at the well. At the gate, the men were lined up to leave. Today's gatekeepers — two tough young female envoys armed with staves and knives — shifted the bars. As the men passed, Nekkar touched each on the forehead with a blessing for safe return. When all had passed through, he nodded at the young women. Their expressions were as tight as drums, and they were weary.
'You're the last of the night watch?' he asked them.
'Yes, Holy One. There come our relief now.'
He heard footsteps behind him. 'Kellas did not return last night?'
'Neh, Holy One. Did you expect him so soon?'
'Neh, of course not.' He couldn't expect Kellas back for two days at least. 'I forgot. I shouldn't have mentioned it.'
They wanted to ask where Kellas had gone but knew better than to inquire. Soldiers might come pounding on the gate with any purpose at all in mind, and the cloaks — should you be so unfortunate as to be forced to stand before one — could eat out your heart.
'Walk safely with the Herald, Holy One,' they murmured.
Herald's staff in hand, he passed under the triple-linteled gate marking Ilu's holy precincts. At this time of day, men like his envoys and novices hurried in small groups to their assigned labor gangs, but otherwise the streets were empty. He checked the closed gates of the compounds. No white ribbons hung from any gate posts this morning, to mark a death inside. That was something.
At each gate he rang the bell and waited for a voice to query. 'What news, Holy One?'
'The reeves still fly. Law Rock is still ours. What news inside?'
They might say, 'All are alive, by the gods' mercy,' or
'Grandfather is refusing to eat so the young ones can have his portion,' or 'My cousin never came back from that gang they sent to fell trees, is there news, Holy One?'
Then he would go on.
Today's guards in Lele Square were too busy sucking on the harsh smoke of rolled-up terig leaf to acknowledge him, but they followed his progress with suspicious gazes as he circled the square to check the ribbons hung on gates. On the Red Clover merchant house hung a pair of ribbons, orange twined with white to mark a sickness, maybe a lung fever or a belly cramping; a single white ribbon marked a death in the adjoining compound, a clan of basket weavers. Otherwise, Lele Square had weathered another night.
An old woman draped in the undyed linen robe worn by Atiratu's mendicants limped along the eastern shadows of the square, leaning heavily on a stick.
One of the soldiers broke off from his companions and headed for her, skirting the public well. 'Heya, old woman.'
She halted to look, absorbing the insult.
'I have an itch on my cock. What do you have to cure it? Cursed girls must be wiping something on me, eh?'
Her gaze took in Nekkar's approach but she turned to answer the impatient soldier. 'Truly, my nephew, if your tool is itching, then you must wash it every day with soap and a tincture of cloud-white oil, and you must not let it enter any woman or man's passage for one full turning of the moon. If it still itches afterward, wait another month.'
'The hells! One full month! It doesn't itch that badly!'
'If you do nothing to rest it now it will turn red and develop sores, and then grow green with the Witherer's fungus. After that, I can't help you.'
He yelped. For one sharp intake of breath, Nekkar thought the man meant to hit an elder, but he pushed brusquely past Nekkar and strode back to his fellows, who were laughing as the man's face darkened with embarrassment.
'Is that true?' Nekkar asked softly, careful not to look after the retreating soldier.
'Greetings of the day, Holy One,' she said.
'Greetings of the day, Holy One. There's a sickness in the Red Clover compound.'
'So have I come. There's a flux over in the masons' court alleys.
Four children and one old uncle are dead. I fear their well has become fouled.' She had a dagger's gaze, her mouth growing thin in an expression more like a stab than a smile. 'As for the other, yes, it is true, except for the Witherer's fungus. The itching won't kill him, but if I can scare him into keeping his wick dry for one month, that's one less man sticking it where it isn't wanted, isn't it? I heard there's baskets for sale in Bell Quarter. Need you some?'
This news was unexpected, come sooner than he'd hoped. Kellas had been smuggled across the city in hopes of getting him up to Law Rock via the same route the southern spy Zubaidit had taken months ago, in a basket up a hidden cliff. Despite the strict curfew and restricted movement between quarters, Toskala's priests and clans and guilds had woven a network of communication across the city, although they dared not risk it often.
'No, not today, but I hope to buy a basket on the first day of Wolf Month, eh? What of you, Geerto?' He ostentatiously rubbed his right shoulder, as though he were asking her for advice.
She grasped his arm. 'You've heard the rumor that the great flight of eagles some days ago, all double-laden, means that Clan Hall has abandoned Justice Square and Law Rock.'
'That's why we sent Kellas, to find out-'
'Ah, of course.' She made him raise his right hand high while she kept a hand cupped over his shoulder. 'Anyway, yesterday the sergeant at Stone Quarter's gate told me the reeves had gone for good and that I could now go out to the brickyards.'
'Eiya!' He dropped his hand. He had never stopped thinking of those three small children lost after Toskala's fall. No matter how often he asked, he was never allowed to go outside the city.
'I laid out five dead ones and sang the prayers of departing over their corpses.'
He forced out the words, although they emerged with a vile taste. 'Is it true they're burning the dead?'