The Dark Horse had no customers just then. Even the Company’s worst slackers were otherwise engaged.
“A fair point. And I do blame my good fortune on your circle.” His expression clouded. “I hope I get enough put by before the good times end.”
The Company presence, once so resented, was today the linchpin of the Aloen economy. The hearts and minds were mostly ours.
“I can’t imagine you not already being set for a generation.”
“When you go your absence will leave a vacuum.”
Oh. Yes. Our enemies would come out of hiding. Any friend of the Company, anyone who had profited from our presence, might suffer reprisals. “I will relay your concern to the Taken.” No evil would befall a friend if we left no enemy alive.
Mention of Mischievous Rain brought a shadow to Zhorab’s face again, darker than before.
There was a problem there, not yet obvious to me. The Taken would not come into town. The townsfolk would not talk about her. I figured it must have to do with religion.
Religious stuff confuses me.
I applied myself to a bottomless mug while Zhorab chattered. I told him, “I miss this beer more than the games. It’s good stuff. You’re really getting the knack.”
“And you’re complimenting the wrong guy. My vats can’t keep up with the demand, these days.”
“Hope I didn’t bruise your feelings, then.”
“You didn’t. So why don’t you get to it? What brought you here?”
“You are too perceptive. Here it is. Something’s going on. Aloens apparently see it. My people don’t. But nobody will fill us in.”
Zhorab pottered with barkeep busywork. I waited some, then asked, “That the way it has to be?”
“I do like you, Croaker. You’re maybe the best man in your gang. But you’re also the man who took the woman away and you’re the man who’s stuffing her now.”
“Markeg, read my lips. I … am … not!… screwing Mischievous Rain! Not! But I do like her. As a person.”
That just made him more uncomfortable. I asked, “This all has to do with her?”
“It has to do with her. Yes.”
“How so? What can I do to fix it?”
“You can’t fix it. A fix became impossible when you took her out of the temple. She was the destined one.”
We were speaking Aloen, of course, and although I have a gift for languages I do not master colloquialisms easily. Something such had to be at work there because what he said made no sense taken literally. “Because she was supposed to become the Port of Shadows?”
“No. That’s something else. But it is part of what bothers people. We all get that you did the world a favor by aborting that business. And you saved her, too.”
“We saved the world, but! And that’s the problem. Right?”
“We cannot reconcile it all. Mischievous Rain, as Tides Elba, was the destined one.” That again. This time I realized that it was a non-Aloen word. It sounded like “konzertosma,” although that is only a phonetic approximation. I recorded it as “destined one” after Zhorab explained its meaning. It was a unique title. Later I learned that “konzertosma” was the preascension appellation of the “konzertasa,” a sort of living divinity/mother superior of the temple. In addition to her administrative duties her divine side would be expected to bestow Occupoa’s special blessing on any man of Aloe in extreme need, one time only.
Again, some religious practices confuse me.
Markeg confused me a lot more once he opened up.
* * *
In these parts the consecrated play roles executed by supernatural agencies elsewhere, like the Fates, with a maiden, a wife, and a crone. Chosen at ten, the maid, the konzertosma, trains for a decade. Unlike other temple girls she remains unsullied until she takes over from her predecessor. A young man of the town would be elected to elevate her to konzertasa status, the wife role. And after ten years she would yield to the next konzertasa and join the pool of crones, the senior sisters, who oversee the everyday work of the temple.
The Occupoa cult is not unique to Aloe. Though marked by plentiful local nuances it is widespread. No pun intended.
Before the Company’s intervention Tides Elba was scheduled to become konzertasa this coming Midsummer’s Eve. She ruined everything when she got herself arrested. Then, worse, she came back to Aloe with children. And then she took herself an outlander lover.
Tides Elba, a most important religious actor, had let herself become tainted time and time again.
That was one weird way to look at it all, I thought, in a culture where chastity is of no value and a faithful spouse is reckoned to be somebody who remains a steadfast partner, not one who sleeps in only one bed. This was a culture where fathers puffed up with pride if their blooming daughters got picked to become temple prostitutes.
Yet again, religion is the strangest stuff—though the religion you grow up with yourself is, naturally, the blazing exception. That sizzling exception always makes perfect sense.
“Markeg, I promise, Mischievous Rain has more trouble with the situation than anybody else does. Not one thing that happened to her was something she chose to suffer.”
“Which only makes it more troubling. The goddess let it happen.”
So there it was. Tides Elba, made konzertosma without consultation, also got tagged to be the Port of Shadows, no honor that anyone wanted, and once we aborted that the Lady made her over into a shiny new Taken, never consulting the wishes of Tides Elba, either.
I suggested, “Here’s a thought. Blame it all on the Dominator. He started everything.”
Zhorab chuckled without humor. “Naturally. But that doesn’t really help. The old konzertasa is supposed to step aside this summer but there isn’t anybody to replace her.”
“There wasn’t an understudy? With life as chancy as it is? I’d think you’d have several. Lightning does strike.”
He shrugged. “I run a tavern. I hang out with foreigners. I’m not trusted by older Aloens. I don’t know what the temple leadership is thinking, except that they want to make sure the next konzertosma isn’t also the next Port of Shadows. And, anyway, that’s their problem, not yours.”
That was nonsense. We had the power here. We represented the woman in the Tower. We were responsible.
“That’s not likely, is it? The Resurrectionists wouldn’t want to get into it any deeper with the temple, would they?”
“I know even less about that shit.”
Maybe. Or maybe not. I do not trust myself one hundred percent when religion or politics are in play. It did seem reasonable that the enemy would not want to alienate the temple—unless, of course, the perfect konzertasa really would make a perfect Port of Shadows, too.
“Question,” I said. “There have to be backups. Could they possibly have the same background as Tides Elba?”
That startled Zhorab. I had double zagged when he had expected a hefty zig. “No way I could know. Why?”
“The Port of Shadows has to come from a bloodline that reaches back to the Dominator. Same for the guy who mates her. Which sounds like incest in the twentieth generation.”
“I don’t know much about history, Croaker. Especially not about what happened in Domination times. But most everybody in these parts can claim the Dominator as an ancestor. He made great sport of rape when he captured a place that resisted him. He supposedly fathered ten thousand bastards.”
That was the legend but the number had to be exaggerated. The man could not have had the time and stamina, however virulent his seed. After an extended silence, I said, “I see.”
The replacement Port of Shadows had to be a woman of childbearing age with a strong concentration of the Dominator’s blood. By examining vital-statistics records I might be able to determine her probable identity. I just needed to give up sleep and work on nothing else. If I could find unsullied and reliable records. The Resurrectionists might have their own secret genealogies. They might even be running a breedi
ng program.
Worth some thought, that, and worth mentioning to the Taken.
Resurrectionist cells began forming even while the White Rose was creating the Barrowland to guard the graves of the Dominator, the Lady, and the original Ten Who Were Taken—none of whom were actually dead when they went into the ground.
Zhorab decided to be more forthcoming. “I did poke around, some. Just for my own curiosity. To find out why you grabbed that particular girl.”
“And?”
“There wasn’t much to learn. She was a foundling. She turned up at the temple before she could walk. She was always a warm, happy, beautiful child. Everybody loved her.”
“Lilac Shade.”
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing. She sounds like a girl from one of Gurdlief’s stories.”
“There is another girl a lot like Tides Elba, three years younger than her, also a foundling. She’s supposedly as personable and popular as Tides Elba was. I’ve seen her. She looks a lot like a younger Tides Elba.”
“Do the temple folks try to trace foundlings’ backgrounds?”
“No. But they’re hardly ever any mystery. Somebody’s inexplicably fat daughter suddenly loses a lot of weight and a bundle of squall shows up on the temple steps.”
“I see.” So Tides Elba might have been a Resurrectionist plant, maybe specially bred, meant for harvest once she reached breeding age. Far-fetched? No doubt. But not impossible. The Resurrectionists have pursued their nightmare for centuries. Only they have any real notion why they go on and on.
The Domination was a gruesome historical passage, ugly, cruel, despotic, and humiliating to most. But, as with most regimes, it would not have been harsh for those on the inside.
If Tides Elba sprang from a breeding program meant to create a Port of Shadows her creators definitely would have created backups because of the iron law of reality: Shit happens. Redundancy would be an absolute necessity in a scheme that required decades to mature.
“Markeg. I appreciate your candor. Truly. You’ve given me much to ponder.”
* * *
Sick call wrapped, I looked for Mischievous Rain. She was unusually scarce. Wizards of all stripes were scarce. And the tall, skinny door on the side of the house stood ajar. The space behind it was empty.
I considered going back to town but that was too much effort just to drink beer and play cards. I decided to mess with these Annals instead.
An hour passed. I brought the Annals up to date. I was considering doing the same with my medical journal when I noticed Ankou, nearly invisible, napping under a nearby chair. How did he get in? He had not been there when I arrived. I harassed him till he fled outside. Not that he had been up to anything obnoxious. It was the principle of the thing.
Shin and Firefly arrived minutes later, engaged in a ferocious row about who had started it. What “it” was never became clear.
“Hold it down to a low roar, kids. I’m trying to work.”
They eyed me suspiciously. I was being nice. I was that grouch Croaker who was never nice to anybody less than five feet tall.
So. I now knew for sure that I was being watched every second. But why? Because of the company I kept?
The kids got quiet. That was spooky whenever it lasted more than a few seconds. I studied my notes while trying to think of some way to identify Mischievous Rain’s forbears, which might help me find other orphans who had been planted in Occupoa’s temples.
I ought to take it all up with the Taken herself rather than waste time reinventing the wheel. “You kids know where your mom went?”
“Exploring,” Beloved Shin replied. He sat cross-legged in a corner, boxing with Ankou. Firefly was scattered in a chair, apparently asleep.
“Exploring what? Where?”
“Don’t know. She said we had to stay behind because it would be dangerous.”
Firefly was awake after all. “She told us to stick close to Dad because this might turn out to be a dangerous day.” That is what she said. “And we should make sure that you don’t leave the compound after you get back from town.”
I wanted to call bullshit but that “Dad” snagged a trip line way out yonder in my mental hinterlands.
I said nothing for a long time. The witch! I would bet the “Dad” was a deliberate plant, an emotional booby trap. It would entangle my thinking for days.
Firefly showed me the child’s version of her mother’s knowing smile. She whispered to her brother. Shin snickered.
* * *
Mischievous Rain returned. I heard no tinkling but Ankou and the kids knew anyway. Ankou indulged in a kata of kitty stretches, then headed for the door. Beloved Shin let him out. Firefly pretended to wake up again.
Mischievous Rain appeared fifteen minutes later, freshly groomed. She did not look like she had spent time anywhere dangerous.
“Mom!” Firefly flew at the Taken like her appearance was a complete surprise. Shin was almost as demonstrative.
“Were they much trouble?” the Taken asked.
“None whatsoever.” Carefully neutral.
She asked Shin, “Was there any trouble?”
He shook his head. Unlike normal brothers his age he did not try to lay anything off on his sister.
“I’m glad. That’s good. Things have begun to move. I was afraid…” Of what she decided not to say.
I told her, “I had an interesting visit with Markeg Zhorab. We need to talk about it.”
Her facial tattoos, all but invisible for several months, stood out prominently for a moment.
Those damned things only ever turned up when you forgot that they were there. “After supper, then.”
* * *
There was almost no moon. There was just me and Mischievous Rain, two hundred feet up in a chilly nighttime sky. Neither Ankou nor the children were with us. No way could anyone eavesdrop
The air had a cold, moist feel of imminent storm. Lightning flashed off to the east.
Mischievous Rain asked, “What is it?”
I reiterated my conversation with Zhorab, leaving out nothing. “I learned more in twenty minutes of gossiping with him than I did with all my research. He gave me several ideas about where to look next. But let’s don’t duplicate anything that’s already been done. What do you know about where you came from?”
“Nothing. The temple girls I knew mostly did know their backgrounds but they didn’t care. I never worried about it. I wasn’t the only one who had no real idea. I did wonder a little more after I got tagged to be the konzertosma. That must have been a surprise for whoever handed me over to the temple. Maybe a happy surprise, considering where that would put their agent.” She remained quiet for a bit. I waited. Then she said, “I may have been given to the temple to hide me. Who would look for the Port of Shadows there?”
“Silent.”
“Yes. He did.”
The carpet rocked, slipped sideways, and here was Firefly, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. She climbed into my lap, wiggled around some, got comfortable, and went back to sleep.
Mischievous Rain told me, “Better watch your back, now. Anything Firefly likes Shin will feel obliged to hate.”
I kind of snuggled the kid but had no real idea how. Family and whores, and my sisters were all older.
“She walks in shadow,” the Taken said, vaguely addressing the question nagging me, that I did not ask. It might be safer not to know.
Mischievous Rain returned to an earlier thought. “The Lady is no goddess. Not even inside her own head. But her knack for seeing, knowing, and concluding correctly based upon gossamer thin evidence—so long as she never leaves her Tower—is almost godlike. I can’t tell you anything about her that isn’t common knowledge already—except that she does have a genuine affection for you. And she doesn’t understand that any better than you do. And she is far more terrified by that than you are frightened by her interest.”
I ground my teeth. I could not have been more defensive. Here came the same old
crap. Only … Only Mischievous Rain was not yanking my chain. She believed what she was saying.
“So I know how to find important information in unlikely places.”
So when would she start looking? I had yet to see her do anything.
“Should we take this one back and put her to bed?”
“Not yet. If she wakes up now she’ll be all wound up. Hang on till she starts talking in her sleep. Then we can shift her with no trouble.”
“All right.” Still not asking how the kid could have turned up aboard a flying carpet miles from home and two hundred feet in the air. Nor why she had climbed onto me instead of onto her mother. “Then let’s do that. Have your unlikely sources produced anything the rest of us should know?”
“I provide your captain with regular reports.”
Well. Of course. I was out of the loop again. Need to know married to freedom from potential recollection in the Annals.
The carpet sagged and slid. Beloved Shin settled beside his mother. He glared daggers at his sister and me. Maybe that was why I had been chosen. Then Ankou appeared, climbed into Mischievous Rain’s lap, and pretended to sleep. I ground my teeth some more. I would not ask. I would not ask! I would not ask!
* * *
The surprises kept coming.
“We will move against Honnoh soon. The Lieutenant will take his reconnaissance crew in first. That won’t seem unusual.”
For months the Lieutenant had roamed the province more than he had stayed at home, randomly, making no pretense that he was doing anything but looking for Rebels. He found some once in a while, usually through ambushes that did not go well for the other side. He always had a sorcerer handy.
I do not know if his patrols learned much. How could I? I was on the mushroom farm, kept in the dark and fed nothing but bullshit—when I got anything at all.
“Why Honnoh?”
“There is a tunnel complex under the town. It is intended to be the logistical base for an offensive against Aloe. The Rebel doesn’t know that we’ve found out. The Lieutenant has visited Honnoh several times, always apparently without noticing anything. If we attack when they’re assembling their main force we can ruin their whole summer.”