CHAPTER 9
The games. Raised platforms edged an empty field that was about double the size of a high school football field. Some of the platforms had canopies with banners flying from the posts that supported them. In their shade were long benches on different levels, like bleachers.
On the centermost platform was a raised stand with a draped seat for Kovat, putting him higher than everyone else. Steps led from the field up to the platform, each step edged with poles topped with banners. At the base of the stairs and a bit to the side stretched the scruffy dog I had seen in the castle. As always, he lay with head on paws, ignoring everyone.
“Who or what is that dog?” I asked Nance.
She smiled, before forcing her face back to its solemn temple expression. She murmured softly, although I doubted anyone could hear us over the crowd noise. “An old pet of Kovat's. Useless, but he is fond of it.”
“I haven't seen any other dogs.”
“The hunting dogs are kept in a kennel.”
Nance and I sat on a bench to the right of Kovat, and Erlan and his wife and daughter were on his left. Behind them stood a row of servants and at the back of the platform stood a row of guards. Bleachers on the side platforms were filled with the banquet guests.
“Who are they?” I whispered to Nance.
We leaned toward each other, trying to remain unnoticed with our scarves pulled forward, but that was impossible, seated as we were beside Kovat.
She whispered, “That row, those men are all captains of Erlan's army. The one in green on the far platform is Wenslaven, son of Wensel, who rules the land adjacent to Erlan's city and the three with him are his sons. I rather think the youngest one hoped to be promised to Alakar. He asked to be in the games, but Kovat refused him. An insult, truly.”
“What's your gossip connection, girlfriend?”
She dimpled and whispered back, “Lor hears it from the guards. Just watch. I have seen Alakar twice glance at him.”
“That's terrible,” I said, thinking Alakar should marry whom she pleased.
Nance replied, “It will be if Kovat sees her rolling her eyes at the son of Wenslaven.”
The games that followed equaled the chaos of the banquet. Watched by gaudy spectators and stuck with grand and lengthy toasts plus the background babble of the crowd, combatants managed to pass most of the day standing in knots arguing the rules, which made me homesick for Saturday afternoons in front of the TV. Was this their version of a time-out?
The contestants were young men from both armies, and also sons of captains and a few others whose relationships to Erlan and Kovat were complicated. Nance tried to explain marriages, alliances, chosen heirs, and so forth, until my head ached. Or maybe the headache was from trying to keep my lashes down while I searched the seating area. With head ducked and half-turned, this maneuver made me cross-eyed.
Nance hissed, “What are you doing?”
“He's behind Ober,” I whispered, took another quick glance, saw the hooded head swivel away.
We were both doing this furtive watch thing and me thinking maybe I should just stand up and wave to the bastard. I might have, except Kovat was between us and I didn't think he would be amused.
“Who's behind who?” Nance asked.
“Ober's Deathwalker critter. He keeps watching us.”
Nance paled and whispered, “Stop that! Do not look at him again.”
When Kovat nodded at us, Nance and I removed our scarves and stood up in our temple robes. As usual, Nance had wound up my hair with ribbons and gold threads. As usual, my hair was already slipping out, a few messy strands hanging in my face. We chanted over the bowed heads of the contestants, promising that the Daughter of the Sun would insure victory to the most courageous.
A chill wind whipped our robes and pulled loose another strand of my hair. As I turned to gather up my scarf and sit back down, I found myself meeting Ober's stare. She looked away.
I turned to hide my face from her and whispered to Nance, “Whenever I look in that direction, Ober is watching us.”
“I think its you she watches. I wish I knew why.”
The men on the field formed themselves into teams and were identified by colored arm bands or ribbons tied to belts, same old same old, a playground method. Not that there was anything playground about the games.
These guys played for blood. Occasionally the groups broke, the crowd roared and opponents from the two armies challenged each other to a variety of weird confrontations I could not figure out, despite Nance's explanations.
What occurred was this. Either one on one or group against group, moving, sometimes on foot and sometimes on horse, all carrying similar weapons or all barehanded, they threw themselves at each other. The purpose eluded me. It was, I think, clear to the onlookers because they roared in unison, both cheers and insults. A bit like a soccer game or even football, with weapons added, except there were no goals and no one was actually trying to move in any direction on the field.
Men fell from their horses, crashing to the field with their spears caught in each other's leather tunics, ripping off metal discs and probably bits of flesh. They rained blows on each other with the flats of their swords and clutched each other with bare hands.
I did realize that the combatants who spent the least amount of time lying on the ground drew the greatest approval. I am not as stupid as all that, but why these men chose to throw themselves at each other's fists and swords was what defeated my understanding.
When I murmured my confusion to Nance, she asked, “Do they not play games in your land?”
“Games, yes, but the players don't try to kill each other.”
“What do they kill?”
“They kick balls around, not each other.”
“Why would anyone kick a ball? What sort of game is that?”
Okay, let's not even think about explaining baseball.
The combatants on the field paused to take turns mounting the steps to our platform to stand below Kovat. He gave short announcements of their names and accomplishments and handed them small gold medals. The participants all had ugly wounds, winners as well as losers.
Tarvik stood facing an opponent, his feet wide apart, his hips a bit forward and his shoulders back, his arms hanging loose at his sides, his fingers only slightly curled, his chin up. He wore a leather tunic and a leather war helmet that covered his head but not his face, and high boots, but his arms and knees were exposed.
The crowd quieted and drew closer to the field to watch. Some signal was given, the waving of a banner and a scream, as best I could tell. He bowed and drew his sword in one smooth motion. My breath stopped, and maybe my heart, when he threw himself forward, diving, it appeared to me, directly onto his opponent's sword.
Templekeepers did not shout and did not show preference, Nance had warned me, but she whispered, “Well done.”
“Well done? He looks to me like he's trying to kill himself.”
“No, no! He gains a point. See there, now he is uppermost.”
“But they will murder each other!”
Nance grinned. “Sometimes but not very often. Those game swords are made of wood, not metal, and they are blunt, the edges dull. And lighter than a real sword. They bruise but don't cut very well.”
As if that information was going to console me. Okay, in a way it did. It meant I probably would not see heads actually rolling across the field separated from their bodies.
The dances were nicer to watch, and an escape for me as I looked away from the games and toward the fields beyond the games. I could hear the music in the distance, light tunes played with the tinkling of bells and the soft thumping of a drum to keep the rhythm.
Watchers lined the clearing. Beyond them, small groups gathered in the sunlight to dance. Dressed in their dull brown and gray clothing, they had tied bright ribbons in their hair and around their necks and on their wrists, really, it seemed, anywhere a bit of color could be attached. They twirled in circles aroun
d each other, moved in and out, forming patterns that reminded me of square dancing. From the distance I could not see the steps they did, but I could hear their laughter. They swung about each other holding hands, linking elbows, all very pretty and much more to my liking than the fighting.
When I looked back at the field, Tarvik stood with another man, their backs to me. Tarvik was easy to spot with his mop of yellow hair. His companion's hair was a duller shade. He was a bit taller than Tarvik, and a bit narrower. His leather tunic left bare his muscular arms.
“Is that Artur with Tarvik?” I asked Nance.
“Yes, he serves as Tarvik's companion guard. Handsome, isn't he? They fight together as a team.”
I had no idea what she meant until they pulled on their war helmets, turned to stand back to back, and drew their swords. They were then circled by a team of four other fighters with drawn swords. Artur and Tarvik turned inside the circle.
“If they can hold off the challenging team for a set amount of time, they tie. If either team drops a sword, the other gains a point.”
“Is that a fair match, four against two?”
“Not for some. But Artur and Tarvik always win.”
“What an odd game. Who thought of that?” I asked stupidly.
“It's how warriors fight in real battle, covering each other, only then they are trying to defeat their enemies, not just win points.”
Defeat. Another word for slaughter?
By day's end, Tarvik had claimed a handful of medals from his father, winning, Nance said, more than any other contender.
When he came toward us and mounted the steps to face Kovat, I turned away, unable to look at the dirt and clotted blood that covered much of him, nauseated by the thought of the pain he endured. The boy was as deranged as the rest of them, I suspected, because he was grinning as he pulled off his helmet and bowed to Kovat. He seemed extremely pleased with himself.
Turning, he put his hand over his heart, looked to the other side of where his father sat, smiled, and bowed again. Nance and I tried not to be too obvious, but hey, we had to swivel around to see. Alakar nodded and gave Tarvik a quick smile, and what's more, the girl even batted her eyelashes at him.
She really was a girl and I am not being petty. Way too young to be promised to anyone, I would have guessed her at ten except for the figure. Standing, she might have come up to Tarvik's shoulder, a little bit of a child-sized thing, except for the voluptuous bod. Nance and Alakar were about the same height. Comparison stopped there. Nance was cute. Alakar was glamorous.
“Good thing he chose her to bow to,” Nance whispered.
“Either of us would have told him to go wash,” I agreed and she giggled.
“She travels in the shadow of her mother's deathwalker. So almost anyone looks good to the silly hen, even our Tarvik.”
“About the deathwalker, get a look at his boot toes if you can.”
“Far more fun to watch my cousin play lover.”
It was hard to believe such a muddy, bloody boy could arrive at the evening banquet with clean hands and face, wearing dark red velvet with fur collar and cuffs and a fair amount of gold bangles. He even wore a crown that night, a small gold circlet inlaid with a pattern of red stones that sparkled in the candlelight.
“Garnets,” Nance said. “Tarvik's favorite jewel.”
“Garnets? He mentioned something about a garnet prince.”
“That's Tarvik's position as the heir of the line of Kovat. It's one reason he likes garnets, but the other, ah, look at him dressed in red velvet.”
“It's his favorite color?”
“It's his favorite self,” she scoffed. “He knows he's handsome and he likes showing off.”
“Then you'd think he wouldn't take chances on getting cut and scarred.”
Nance giggled. “The only thing he likes better than dressing up is doing anything that gets him top to toe muddy.”
That evening's banquet exceeded the previous one in both sound and length. Too much rich food and too much drink and more noise and shouting and arguing. As though there had not been fighting enough at the games, occasional guests fell on each other and had to be pulled apart and sometimes carried out of the hall.
“Wish they'd carry out Ober's guard with his feet in the air. Gotta have pointed toes on his boots.”
“He neither eats nor drinks,” Nance said.
“Honestly?”
“The dead don't.”
We hung in there for a while hoping he'd walk past us, but no luck, and feeling beat from the long day, we cut out. When we returned to the temple, we could still hear the noise from the castle.
Odd though. When we left the castle with our guard, the deathwalker still stood behind Ober like a frozen shadow on the wall. As we went down the path, I saw tree shadows shiver in the wind. And then between them, clear on an open stretch of starlit path, I saw another shadow, long, a hood shape at the top, for the time it took to blink and then it was gone. Not even time to elbow Nance to look.
“Be careful tonight,” I said to the guard. “I think someone followed us.”
I guess no one ever said anything like that to him before, because he blinked, stared at me, then whispered, “Thank you, lady. I will be watchful.”
Nance wandered inside to her bed and fell onto it fully clothed and covered in paint and gold threads. I removed the heavy ceremonial robes and the jewels and paint required by the banquet, untied and unwound my hair and combed it out, then washed myself top to toes. Before tumbling onto my pile of blankets, I pulled on a clean linen tunic.
Perhaps I should have been surprised to hear the pounding on our courtyard gate later that night, but by now I was rather used to it.
So when Tarvik began his usual noise, I recognized it, rose quickly before he woke Nance, grabbed a blanket to toss around my shoulders and ran across the courtyard to the gate.
I unbolted it and let him in, glanced at the guard standing there at stiff attention. It wasn't fun but better than another whack on the head. To Tarvik I whispered, “Hush, Nance is asleep,” as I closed the gate.
“Did you see how often I won?” he said, his grin a bright slash in the shadows.
“Hard to miss, sitting right there at Kovat's feet.”
“But you looked away when I came up the stairs. Why did you look away?”
“You were covered with blood and dirt. Umm, I didn't mind the dirt so much.”
His eyebrows rose. “You minded the blood? But it is hard to fight without a little blood.”
“I suppose it is,” I agreed, then thought of his bow after the games, hand over heart. “Tarvik, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be calling on Alakar?”
He moved over to stand by the embers in the fire pit at the center of the courtyard. He was still dressed in the fur-trimmed velvet tunic and velvet pants and fur boots of his banquet clothing, and wearing a heavy gold necklace of chains and medallions. He'd left the crown at home.
With a shrug, he said, “Yes, perhaps no. She is always with her mother and they retire early.”
“You could have banged on their door.”
His blue eyes slid between his narrowed lids and he chewed his lower lip. What was he thinking that he did not want to say? Was Nance wrong? Were Tarvik and Alakar in love, in which case, her mother's constant presence must have annoyed both of them?
“She is very beautiful,” I said.
He nodded but still said nothing.
Reaching out, I brushed his hair back from the side of his face with my fingertips. His yellow mop felt thick and soft, reminding me of the fur of my long-haired pet cat back home, but that isn't why I touched him. I was looking for the wound beneath his hair. On his temple was a jagged cut, a raised red line of dried blood centered in a purple bruise. I caught his hands in mine, held them in front of me, and looked first at the backs of them, then at the palms. Rings gleamed on all his fingers. But even in the shadows I could see the raw scrapes.
Then
I met his puzzled gaze. “Are you in such a rush to look like your father?”
He stared at me for a long moment before saying, “I think you speak out of place.”
“Right. That's me. Out of place. It's only that I don't actually care to see you injured. Don't you feel the pain?”
“Oh.” His face relaxed into a smile. “I think you have a very soft heart, Stargazer.”
“That or a very soft head.”
“I am sorry you did not enjoy the tournaments.”
He sounded so disappointed, I said quickly, “I liked the dancing.”
“There was no dancing tonight.”
“No, this afternoon. Beyond the game field I could see people dancing in circles, and they had bells and a drum and ribbons, and oh, it was very pretty to watch.”
“That would be the country dances, yes. I join them sometimes on feast days when I do not have to be at the castle.”
“Do you?” That surprised me because I remembered the day he brought me to the city, guiding his horse on a path that wound between the huts of the poor, and everyone we passed had looked at the ground as though they were afraid to look at him. “They don't mind? They let you join them?”
“I take along a couple of servants carrying a few jugs of mead, then ask them to teach me the dance they are doing.”
“That would do it.”
“You think they are afraid of me, as they are of Kovat. They really are not, Stargazer. Besides, I dance very well. Shall I show you?”
When I nodded, he said, “These are not dances to do alone. You must join me.”
“But I don't know your dances.”
“Watch.” He hummed a tune and circled around me in a series of steps, and I don't know why I was surprised to see that he could dance. He was well coordinated, light on his feet.
He took a step sideways to stand by me, shoulder to shoulder, and caught my hand in his.
“Now, you, too, Stargazer, foot out, cross over, yes, good, cross back, two steps to the side.”
Very much like square dances. Unfortunately, I'd never done much of that since grade school and didn't know any steps.
He slipped the blanket from my shoulders, dropped it on the ground, and put his arm around my waist. “I love your hair this way, hanging down,” he said.
Humming softly, he swung me around in a series of steps that pulled us together in a position more like ballroom dancing and from habit I slid my hand across his shoulder and turned to face him.
He stopped. “What are you doing?”
“Sorry, didn't mean to lead.”
“Lead what?”
“I'm out of position, right? Should be side by side or further apart and circling around each other or something.”
When I tried to back away, he held me where I was. “You know a different dance. Show it to me.”
“Umm, all right, I'm not much good at this. When you step forward, I step back. Yes, like that. Hmm, this is hard to do without music.”
“How can I tell which way to step? I need to feel you moving, oh, your dance, you must be close to each other, this close?” He pulled us together and I gave up.
I could remain stiff with a few inches between us and our noses practically touching and my back aching or I could go ahead and dance with him.
“Okay, Tarbaby, keep humming,” I said.
“What's a tarbaby?”
Oh shoot, that had slipped out somewhere between his name and calling him baby because it was late and I was tired and not thinking too clearly.
Thinking even less clearly, I said, “It's from a story.”
“Tell me,” he said, and I figured I might as well because he would pester forever until I did.
I gave him the quickie version of Joel Chandler Harris's story. “There was a clever fox and a tricky rabbit and they had this ongoing rivalry. So the fox took some soft warm tar and shaped it into a baby doll and sat it in the middle of the road, then hid himself in the bushes.”
“What's tar?” he asked.
“Hot sticky black stuff used to pave roads. It gets hard when it cools. So anyhow, the rabbit saw the tarbaby and he asked its name. It didn't answer. It couldn't, but the rabbit didn't know that, so he hit the tarbaby and his paw stuck. That made him so mad, he hit it with his other paw, then kicked it and kicked again, and when all four feet were stuck, he butted it with his head.
“The tarbaby was bait to catch the rabbit and it worked, because that's how cute the tarbaby was. So, then the fox popped out of the bushes and caught the rabbit.”
“Are you sure this story has a happy ending?” he asked.
“Listen up, stop interrupting. The rabbit was sneaky, told the fox 'please don't throw me in the briar patch' and so that's what the fox did, tossed him into the patch. That patch was home ground for the rabbit and so he escaped laughing.”
“And what happened to the tarbaby?”
“Hmm. Never thought about that.”
“Your stories have strange endings,” he said. “Now I want to try this dance of yours.”
“Okay, where's the music?”
He hummed softly.
I caught his free hand in mine and put my other hand on the back of his neck and relaxed so that our bodies pressed together, my face touching his cheek. He stopped and started to turn his face to me.
“No, fella, keep humming or the dancing lesson is over,” I said firmly, then guided him through some slow steps.
Had to admit to myself that I really enjoyed dancing with a guy who was the same height. He knew where our feet were, both his and mine, and I wasn't in danger of squashed toes. Or of getting a crick in my neck from looking up. Did I mention we fit together very comfortably?
Tarvik was a natural, sensed the rhythm and followed the instructions I whispered in his ear.
“Okay, step forward, now the other foot, turn slowly, pause. Again.”
And again and again, him in his fur boots and dark red velvet, me barefoot in a plain linen tunic, and although I've never been much of a dancer, he picked up on what we were doing and did it so easily that he made me believe I danced well. Whether that was true or not, the dancing plus the guy kept me warm in the cold night.
As I made a turn under his raised arm, our faces almost touched and he said, “Where is your home, Stargazer?”
Startled, I said, “Seattle.”
“What is a Seattle?”
“A big city.”
“And this is how you dance in Seattle.” He began dancing again, but from the look on his face I thought he was thinking more about Seattle than about dance steps.
We circled the fire going through any number of steps, until I was breathless and laughing and finally stumbled. He caught my elbows, held me upright, then realized how cold my skin was and rubbed his hands lightly over my arms.
Picking up my blanket from the ground where he had dropped it, he wrapped it around me. “Where's your cloak? Go get it, I'll wait.”
He looked wide awake and ready to dance until dawn. I said, “I need to sleep now. Nance said there is a procession in the morning. I think we are supposed to lead.”
“Yes, my father and uncle will be starting off on their new campaign.”
“You should leave now.”
“Oh. But you haven't told me about this city you live in. Do you live in a castle?”
“Um, no, I live in a house.” A nice warm little house with soft beds and hot water, I thought, but didn't want to try to explain that.
“Tell me what a house is and what does it look like.”
“Tarvik.” Catching his face between my hands to hold his attention, the way one does with a small child, and looking directly into his eyes, I said in my firmest voice, “I will tell you a story about my house some other time. Right now it is late and I am tired and I need to sleep. ”
“Oh! Yes.” He turned his face so quickly that, before I could pull my hands away, he pressed his mouth against my palm.
I sta
red stupidly at my hand, where he had kissed it.
“Goodnight, Stargazer.” He opened the gate, stepped out, pulled it almost closed behind him, stuck his head back through the opening and said, “Perhaps it is as much fun to dance as to fight. I will think about that.”
I couldn't see his face in the darkness but I knew he was laughing at me.
In the morning before the sun's rising, and certainly before mine, the outer gates shook beneath heavy blows. I heard Nance squealing and rushing around, then calling out for the identity of our visitor. A moment later she returned to shake me.
“Stargazer! It is Kovat himself! Quick, be up!”
While I sat on my pile of blankets and sheepskins trying to recall where I was and why, Nance rubbed paint and powder on my face.
“We've no time to pile your hair. Here, you comb it out while I fetch a robe.”
“Why is he here so early?”
“Do you think I am going to ask Kovat why he comes to his own temple and demands to see you? Hold quiet, that sash is wrong, there, oh, where are your sandals?”
“Never mind the sandals.” I left her hiding behind the door. The cold ground of the courtyard beneath my bare feet helped wake me up.
To my amazement, Kovat waited alone by the gate, wrapped in a fur-lined cape against the winter morning. If there was some required greeting with which to hail a warlord who called at daybreak, no one had told me, and so I kept my mouth shut. Also, I was fighting back a yawn. Have I mentioned the deplorable lack of coffee in this place? That alone had convinced me I wasn't dreaming because even in nightmares, coffee exists.
Kovat said, “Come near and listen carefully, woman. I will not speak with you again until my return.”
Remembering my manners, I managed the standard clerk phrase. “How may I help you?”
“You say you are of the line of the Daughter.”
Had I said that? I didn't remember but I wasn't about to argue with the man.
“She saved my life. She saved it when all the potions and prayers of the magicians of Thunder failed. And she stopped the fever spreading through the city. In the years that followed, I had no reason to regret discarding the false magicians and their god and building this temple for her. The Daughter's prayers protected me and my army from disease as well as defeat. Whether your powers are as great must still be proved. You have powers I have not encountered before. What I must ask is if your calling binds you to truth.”
“I can only see what the stars choose to show me.” I didn’t know what he wanted. I did know I didn’t want to annoy him. His face was red with anger but not at me, not yet.
“What is true will prove itself. For now, I must trust your stars. I will give you the birth hours of my brother, his wife and his daughter. You must look at their futures.”
“That takes time. Maybe a day?”
“I am leaving today. You will do this as quickly as you can. The women will winter here at the castle with my son. If there is anything in their stars of which he should be warned, you will do so. All else you will save for my return.”
He recited for me the birth hours of Erlan, Ober and Alakar. By this time I knew these people, with their lack of a written language, kept their family histories in their heads, and with a surprising amount of detail and accuracy. I repeated slowly the information he told me.
“Make no error. If you guide me well, I will repay you. Fail, and you will not have another chance.”
Sick of his threats, I blurted, “If the Daughter had made an error, would you have removed her head?”
He scowled back at me. “Perhaps she was a god. Perhaps she was human. I do not know or care. What I know is that the god of the Sun shared his secrets with the Daughter. When you have saved my life, ask me again. Until then, you are in my debt for sparing you this long.” He started to turn away, then stopped and pivoted toward me on his heel. “The man who guards Ober, you have noticed him? Of course you have. I knew him well once but he is changed. I do not know the hour of his birth but I know the day.”
I nodded, too angry to speak but intrigued by this additional request.
“If you can explain him to me on my return, I will be impressed.”
And so would I, because my curiosity about the man who remained hidden in his cloak and hood was super sized. Nance thought Ober's guard was either a servant or a slave. Or death. What sort of chart would death have? Okay, death wouldn't have a birth date, but an executioner or an assassin would.
After Kovat told me the man's day of birth, he hurried out of the gate, walking with that same swinging stride that reminded me of Tarvik, light-footed. The rising sun flamed his hair to gold.
When the sun topped the courtyard wall, Nance and I led the procession. We walked in front, followed by a small group of guards and then Kovat and Erlan and their captains seated high on their horses. At the edge of the hill, where the path dropped away to the valley, we stepped to the side of the road and watched them head off to battle, still chanting, our arms raised, our hands pointed toward the sky. From his tall horse Kovat looked down and my glance met his stare. His eyelids were oddly twisted and narrowed.
I worked at keeping silent while my mind shrieked, “Help!”
Nance and I remained at the ridge and chanted Kovat and Erlan down the hill and across and out of the valley, trailed by their armies. We both drooped beneath our layers of paint and fur and jewels, dead on our feet from loss of sleep. We kept our bodies and faces rigid as our temple guards escorted us back to our courtyard. The clatter of the bolt on the gate after our return to the temple was the last sound I wished to hear until evening mealtime.
And if wishes were horses et cetera, right? Before the brothers and their armies were out of sight, the guard knocked on the gate. And before I could shout, “Go away, Tarvik,” Nance hurried across the courtyard to call, “Who is there?”
The guard spoke clearly in a loud formal tone. It meant he was not at ease with our visitor. “The lady Ober waits here and requests an audience with the templekeeper.” He was our friend for life, that guard. Don't know if he suspected Ober's man of attacking him, but his announcement sounded like a warning.
Nance's mouth opened in a wide “o”. We looked at each other, speechless, and then she slid the bolt and peered through the crack.
As she was still in temple dress, she said, “My lady, did you wish to enter the temple?”
I heard Ober's voice say, “No, I would like to speak with the templekeeper who assists you. Your courtyard will do.”
She could not see me standing behind the gate at Nance's side, and so I mouthed, “Let her enter,” to Nance, then stepped back to the center of the yard.
Nance slowly opened the gate to a width no greater than needed for one person.
With that amazing calm she could draw around herself when she needed it, Nance said in her temple voice, “This place is sacred and forbidden to men. Your guards must wait outside but you may enter, my lady.”
Ober, wearing an embroidered cape of green velvet, walked slowly through the gate, saw me and came toward me without so much as a nod to Nance. Nance closed the gate behind her. Ober's copper hair was piled on her head beneath her hood. A few stray tendrils curled around her face. The colorless eyes stared at me from that spooky white face and I hadn't a clue what she wanted.
She said, “What is your name, templekeeper?”
“Stargazer.”
“And you came from the outlands.” Her eyes never left my face as she added, “And what is it Kovat wants of you?”
As I had no idea what she was talking about, I kept my mouth shut. He had expected me to be in the procession, he accepted me as a templekeeper, he hoped I knew magic, and he humored his son by letting me live. Which of these facts mattered to the wife of Kovat's younger brother?
When I didn't answer, she said, “He spoke with you early this day, before leaving on his journey. I though perhaps he left a message for me.”
Ah, so t
hat was what she wanted to know. What would she think if I told her he gave me her time of birth so I could read her plans? “He came to remind myself and the priest of the Daughter that he required our blessings for his army.”
She did not believe me, which showed in the narrowing of those weird eyes. No smile, no frown. “Nothing more? No message for his son?”
“His son is at the castle, right? Where Kovat could speak directly to him?”
Still ignoring Nance, Ober turned and walked back to the gate. She stood facing it as though she had no ability to open a gate, and so I went around her to open it for her. I was perfectly willing to wait on her like a servant if it hastened her departure. Inviting her to join us for tea never crossed my thoughts.
We were closer to each other than I cared to be. She turned and spent a moment staring at my temple garb, and the paint Nance had smeared on my face. “Stargazer. I know that word. Kovat spoke of magic circles in which the stars were drawn. Is that what you do?”
That question hit too close. “I don’t know anything about magic.”
Which was not quite true. However, I knew everything about circles and stars, and I could imagine Tarvik raising his eyebrows and saying, Liar.
She thought so, too, it was clear in her expression, but she said nothing, only walked slowly through the gate and toward the castle.
I closed the gate, slumped against it, made a face at Nance who looked about to shriek. We dragged our weary selves to our chamber. For once I was too exhausted to wash away the face colors and dust before sinking into my pile of skins and blankets. Yet after I closed my eyes, thoughts battled sleep for my attention. And the loudest question was this: What did Kovat expect me to find in the star signatures of Erlan, Ober, Alakar and a man called Deathwalker?
I asked Nance, “What do you think of Ober?”
I had expected a reply about false pride or greed or dishonestly, perhaps, but not what I got. Nance rubbed her eyes and said in a weary voice, “She must be a sorcerer.”
“What kind of a sorcerer?”
“One with magic, but not a magician. More powerful, I think. Remember what I told you about lifedrainers? Sorcerers can call them.”
“Call them from where?” Now I was awake and alert.
“From the mountains where they live, if there really are such things.”
“Why would anyone want to call them?”
“Oh, I don't know.” Nance sat up and looked at me. “Rulers can raise armies and go to battle for what they want. Others cannot. And so they call on evil magic to aid them. The lifedrainers are evil magic.”
I didn't find any lifedrainers in any of the charts when I was finally able to draw them. Perhaps that's because I didn't actually know what a lifedrainer would look like in a chart.
But I certainly did find evil.