Traitors Gate

'I am learning.' She gestured toward a table. 'I'll sit here for a while. O'eki, maybe that young woman will sit with me and review the ideograms. I want to be able to write my own accounts book in the Hundred style.'

The girl's name was Adit, and she had been born in the Year of the Ox, just like Mai, but she was a timid creature, hard to draw out, so after a while Mai concentrated on forming and memorizing the ideograms. Priya and O'eki had seated themselves together at a writing desk, heads bent intimately together as they discussed an unknown matter in low voices, hands touching.

A guard stepped in, glanced around, and stepped out. Sheyshi entered, carrying a fussing Atani.

'I'll nurse him over here,' said Mai as she took the baby to the far end of the room where pillows were stacked for visitors. Atani was an efficient eater, very hungry but not one to dawdle. When he was done and she had burped him, Adit crept over and shyly asked if she could hold him, for it transpired she had left a beloved infant brother at home when she went to the temple. So then she could be coaxed to speak of her home and her family in northern Olo'osson, and when Mai at length had Sheyshi take the infant out, she and Adit settled back to work companionably, trading comments, chuckling over an awkward stroke, asking and answering questions. Eventually the lad rose and, in the course of stretching and straightening his already neat jacket, paused by the table where the two young women worked.

'That's just the basic work,' he said in the tone lads got when they were showing off for girls. 'Those ideograms are the old way of recording. Anyone can do that. That's why the clerks of Sapanasu keep them around, because even merchants who didn't apprentice with the Lantern can tally with numbers and ideograms. Writing is much harder.'

'Don't try to boast, Wori,' said Adit in a low voice. 'It makes you look stupid.'

'I would like to learn this other writing of the Hundred,' said Mai.

'If you didn't apprentice with the Lantern, you can't,' he said, tweaking his sleeves.

Adit hid her flushed face behind a hand.

'Why not?' Mai asked.

'Because you can't,' he repeated stubbornly. She suspected he now felt trapped by her attention and Adit's embarrassment. 'No one does.'

'Not doing it is not the same as not being able to do it. For one thing, surely the Ri Amarah did not apprentice with the Lantern and yet they know how to write in the temple script-'

'Eiya! Well! Them!'

'What does that mean? Them.'

He shrugged. 'They're outlanders. They don't even worship properly.'

'I'm an outlander.'

'Do you make offerings at the seven temples?'

T don't. I have a shrine to the Merciful One. That's where I pray.'

'That's the Merciless One,' he said with a smug smile.

'No, it isn't,' said Adit suddenly. 'I've talked to the women who work here, and they told me it's the Merciful One. Full of mercy. There's a prayer they say, "I go to the Merciful One for refuge. I go to the Truth for refuge. I go to the Awakened for refuge."'

To hear these words flow from the girl's lips surprised Mai. She had thought the local women who worked for her only came to listen to Priya lead the service in order to be polite to the employer who paid them. 'Why, that's right. That's part of the prayer.'

Wori said, 'Who ever says a thing like that? "I go to the truth for refuge." That doesn't mean anything.'

Voices raised outside: men were speaking vehemently in the warehouse. There came a shout, and then a hammering on the warehouse door. Chief Tuvi called out an order; footsteps pounded like a cloudburst as men raced across the entrance courtyard.

She rose, her own heart at a driving run. Would she never be free of the red hounds?

Priya hurried over and grasped her elbow. 'Quickly. Come farther inside.'

Soldiers appeared in the office door leading to the porch. 'Quickly, Mistress. Come inside.'

'Will this never end?' she cried angrily.

A rhythm rapped on the warehouse door, the signal giving the all-clear.

'Seren,' she said, more sharply than she intended. 'Open the door.'

The young soldier limped over to the door. His comrade drew his sword as Seren slid back the iron eye panel.

'Clear to open,' said Tuvi's voice from the other side.

Seren undid the bolts and bars, braced his crippled leg, then swung the door open. Chief Tuvi entered first, marking the occupants with his sharp gaze. An older man wearing the turban of the Ri Amarah strode in behind him.

'Master Isar!' said Mai. 'I am honored at your visit, but I admit I did not expect you-'

'Have you seen my daughter?'

She flinched, for his tone reminded her exactly of Father Mei in one of his tempers. So many months had passed since a man had spoken to her in that way she had almost forgotten how it felt, but of course she would never truly forget because it was the male voice she had grown up with. It angered her now more than it scared her. She cooled her voice to a pitch of such sincere gra-ciousness that she hoped her demeanor would scare him.

'Ver, will you sit? Priya, might you bring wine? Here is a pillow.'

He paced the length of the room and back again. She waited. Chief Tuvi watched through narrowed eyes. The two soldiers shut the door to the warehouse and stood with backs against it. O'eki loomed, and the clerks retreated to the cabinets.

Isar was a good-looking man somewhat older than Father Mei, a man of considerable influence and wealth, accustomed to deference. Because he was Ri Amarah — outlanders who had settled in the Hundred about a hundred years ago and yet had never come around to worshiping the Hundred's gods — he was also, it seemed, accustomed to being distrusted.

Still pacing, he spoke without looking at Mai directly. 'I have come to you, verea, because of your friendship with my daughter, whose name we do not speak in public spaces. This trouble began when she was allowed to visit you in this compound. Not that I fault you, verea, for certainly you cannot understand our customs. But she has become unruly and disobedient since that day-'

Mai wanted to protest that Miravia had spoken discontentedly of her fate and the restrictions placed on her on the very first day the two young women had met, many months ago, but she knew better than to try to stop his flow of bitter words.

'-and now it appears she has utterly cast all honor and duty and sense of propriety into the dirt and run away from home.'

Chief Tuvi looked at Mai, and she wasn't sure whether he was shocked, or ready to burst out laughing. Isar stared around the office.

'Must all these strangers stand here and listen?' he demanded.

Mai gestured. 'Adit. Wori. You are released for the day. We will see you at dawn tomorrow, neh?'

With relieved nods, they hurried out.

'Seren. Valan. Bolt the door, and wait outside on the porch for my signal.'

As the two soldiers left, Mai turned to Isar. 'Chief Tuvi and my advisors stay.'

'Your advisors? Your slaves, you mean!'

'Master Isar, surely you did not come to insult me, since you know perfectly well that my husband has supported your people. Your customs are not our customs.'

'My apologies, verea. I am distraught.'

'What has happened to Mi- to your daughter?' She was truly becoming anxious now, as dusk settled outside and the chamber darkened.

'She was to leave tomorrow morning.'

'Leave for where?'

'Leave for her wedding. To take her place in her new home.'

His words shocked her. 'To Nessumara? You can't possibly be sending her on the roads, Master Isar. Captain Anji has secured the roads in Olo'osson, but you know better than most that beyond Olo'osson the roads are not safe, not even for an armed caravan.'

'It has been arranged that a reeve will fly her there. A female reeve, I might add.' Surely his complexion was pallid more with anger than concern. Did he truly care for his daughter, or was she merely a piece of merchandise he could trade to benefit his family's wealth and position?