Daughter Of The Lioness - Trickster's Choice Part 4

At least the Balitangs wouldn't miss life at court. They occupied themselves with charity work, fas.h.i.+ons, books, and music, not politics, court, or trade.

They kept their own accounts and oversaw the work of the household. Aly suspected that they would settle quietly into rural life, given half a chance.

If she was to win her wager, she had to ensure that they would get that chance, at least until the summer was over.

She wondered why a Great G.o.d would take such a brief interest in the family. In her experience, once a G.o.d took an interest in a mortal, that mortal was stuck with that G.o.d for life. Still, that wasn't Aly's problem right now. Safeguarding this family, without calling notice to herself, was her problem. If anyone were to find out that the daughter of the Tortallan king's Champion and his a.s.sistant spymaster was summering in the Copper Isles, she wouldn't live long enough to collect on that wager. The thought made her grin as she turned her face into the fresh sea breeze. At long last she had a real challenge, and she meant to enjoy every moment of it.

The captain never made good on his threats to smarten his raka seamen with his whip. The s.h.i.+p glided up the Long Strait. The warm, damp winds drove them gently north along the long, slender neck of water that separated Kypriang, the capital island, from Gempang Isle in the west. Dolphins, always a sign of good luck, sped alongside the vessel, watching its occupants with mischievous eyes and what looked like mocking smiles.

The Long Strait was another world compared to Rajmuat's crowded streets and busy docks. Limestone cliffs rose high on either side, threaded with greenery and falling streams, capped with emerald jungles that steamed as the day warmed up.

Brightly colored birds soared to and fro, indifferent to the s.h.i.+ps that ploughed the blue waters. From the Gempang jungles came the long, drawn-out hoots of the howler monkeys.

"Tell me a story," demanded Elsren after his afternoon nap.

"Yes, a story," Petranne insisted, sitting up against the rail with her legs crossed. "Anew story. Jafa only ever tells the same ones."

"Did not," retorted her brother. Petranne stuck her tongue out at him.

Aly listened to the howler monkeys and smiled. She sat cross-legged in front of the two children, keeping one hand in Elsren's belt. She had spent the morning dragging him from under the crew's feet. "Once the most beautiful queen in all the world had a menagerie," she began, thinking wickedly how Aunt Thayet would screech if she could hear this story again. "In it were those self-same monkeys you hear all around us, the howlers. Now, the queen was often out and about, and the only things she liked better than coming home were her reunions with her beloved king, and an unbroken night's sleep." Softly she told them about menagerie keepers who sold places in the palace gardens near the queen's balcony the nights after her return, then roused the howler monkeys to break the silence with their loud, penetrating calls. Woken from her sleep, the hot-tempered queen would race onto her balcony, bow and arrows in hand, in an attempt to shoot the beasts no matter how dark the night. Those who watched from below rejoiced in the fact that their queen slept without a nightgown.

"Of course, the king's spymaster put a stop to it, once he knew," Aly concluded seriously. "He made the keepers use the money they'd made to build another enclosure for the howlers, where they wouldn't disturb the queen. But there are still men who will swear by every G.o.d you know that they truly have the most beautiful queen in all the world."

Petranne and Elsren stared back at Aly soberly. Finally Elsren said, "That one was new. Tell another!"

"Yes, another!" pleaded his sister. "That was a good one!"

"You're from Tortall, aren't you?"

Aly turned to look for the source of the new voice. The older girls, Saraiyu and Dovasary, stood nearby, listening as Sarai fanned herself. There was no way for Aly to read what they thought in their level eyes or polite faces. It occurred to her that, being half-raka, these girls must have learned to hide their feelings well. They would have heard the people of Rajmuat and the rest of the Isles speak with careless cruelty of their mother's people. They may even have heard some of that cruelty from n.o.bles of their own cla.s.s.

Dovasary continued, "Your Kyprish is very good-you barely have an accent."

"Thank you, your ladys.h.i.+p," Aly replied meekly. She knew her accent was not Tortallan. Her teachers had come from Imahyn Isle and had p.r.o.nounced her Kyprish as perfect. The Balitangs spoke with a Rajmuat accent.

"My sister asked you a question," Saraiyu said imperiously. "Are you from Tortall?"

Aly bowed her head, every inch of her the perfect servant. "Yes, your ladys.h.i.+p."

Dovasary plopped herself down beside Elsren and pulled him onto her lap. Aly disentangled her fingers from his belt. "Then you know stories of the King's Champion there, the one they call the Lioness!" she said eagerly. For the first time since Aly had seen her, the younger girl's eyes were alive with interest.

"Tell us some!"

"Is she really ten feet tall?" asked Petranne.

Saraiyu settled neatly beside Aly, disposing her cotton skirts perfectly. Waving her fan, she asked, "Is the Lioness as good with a sword as they say? The d.u.c.h.ess made me stop my sword lessons." Her voice turned frosty as she spoke of her stepmother. "She said they were unladylike."

Aly scratched her head to cover her confusion. Can I talk of Mother as if I'd never seen her in my life? she wondered. No-as if I'd seen her once or twice, at a distance. They'll expect that. When Chenaol and Ulasim had first brought her to Balitang House, the steward had questioned her about her origins. Aly had claimed then that she'd been a merchant's daughter and a maid at Fief Tameran, south of Pirate's Swoop. The household there had been close to the Grand Progress several years ago. Everyone would have turned out to see the monarchs, the prince and princess, and the King's Champion ride by.

Now she folded her hands in her lap. "The Lioness is really that good with a sword, your ladys.h.i.+p," she replied to Sarai, this time acting the role of a polite servant. "King's Champion isn't a t.i.tle for decoration. Every time a n.o.ble demands a challenge to settle a matter of law, the Champion must fight and win for the Crown."

"What happens when she loses?" asked Petranne.

Aly looked at the child, startled. "She doesn't."

"But everybody loses sometime," Sarai told Aly.

"Not the Lioness," Aly said, her mind scrambling. Mother lose? How could she?

"Not since she's been Champion, that I know of." Remember, you only know the stories, she ordered herself.

"She must have lost sometimes, when she was training, maybe even when she first got her s.h.i.+eld," Dovasary pointed out. "And Tortall's at war-she could be killed in that."

Aly's pulse raced. She fought to sound natural, to keep from showing her distress at the idea. "Oh, well, training and that, everyone loses," she said with a shrug when she was sure of her control. "But the war's a year old already, and the Lioness is hale enough. She visited her home just before I was taken." If Alanna was killed in the fighting this year, she would die without Aly having said goodbye.

"Tell us," begged Saraiyu, leaning forward, her dark eyes eager. "Tell us how she came to be the Champion. Tell us how she found the Dominion Jewel. Tell useverything. "

Aly only had time to tell them the story of how the Lioness had brought the Dominion Jewel home to her king. Then d.u.c.h.ess Winnamine declared it was time for the children to study. Even Elsren had lessons in counting to do. Aly remained topside, relieved of her duties for the time being. She stood at the rail, enjoying the calls of colorful birds, the clear blue water under the s.h.i.+p's prow, and the sheer loveliness of the spring day.

She registered movement along the cliff tops on either side of the strait. Aly sharpened her Sight for a good look. Her fingers clenched on the rail as she realized that she saw hundreds of copper-skinned raka, men and women alike, dressed in the traditional wrapped jacket or round-collared tunic, and the tied skirtlike wrap called a sarong. Some wore garments that were richly decorated and jeweled, with more jewelry on their fingers and at their throats. Others wore plain colors with embroidery and strings of beads for ornament. The women drew their straight black hair away from their faces in a double-domed style, much like that of Yamani women, while the men wore headbands, turbans, or hats.

The raka groups were of all ages, from the smallest infants to the oldest adults. They stood in silence, as far as Aly could tell, watching as the Balitang vessel pa.s.sed by.

She turned to look back down the strait, to check whether the natives watched all s.h.i.+pping out here. Two vessels earlier had overtaken the three that carried the duke's household. No other s.h.i.+ps followed in their wake, and nowhere did she see people on the cliffs behind them. The raka left as soon as the duke's s.h.i.+p drew out of easy view.

She tugged at a sailor's arm as he coiled rope on the deck. "Do they always do that?" she asked, pointing at their audience. "Come and see boats go by? They don't look like they mean to attack."

The half-raka man looked at her, then at the cliffs. "No," he said quietly, "they do not do that. They prefer to remain unseen when the luarin pa.s.s." He touched Aly's slave collar. "Do not draw attention to it," he said, nodding toward the duke and d.u.c.h.ess, who sat at a small table in the bow playing chess.

"The luarin get uneasy when the raka do things they don't understand."

Iwant to understand. Aly thought it, but she did not say it. She doubted that the sailor would confide in her. One thing seemed obvious: something about these s.h.i.+ps drew the interest of many people on the two islands. The raka faces, when she used her magical Sight to better examine them, were expectant and eager. The sailor had told her the watchers were not typical. Something about the duke's party drew their attention.

His servants? Aly wondered, drumming her fingers on her thigh as she turned the matter over in her mind. Or his oldest daughters? Mequen was a Rittevon, a lesser one, but still of the line of the luarin conquerors.

Belowdecks she heard Elsren yell, "I wantup !" Aly's rest time was over.

Before she fetched the child, Aly took one more look at the cliffs. The raka they had pa.s.sed were leaving, returning to their jungle towns and their luarin masters' estates.

That night after supper the duke and d.u.c.h.ess read to their younger children from a book of raka myths. Aly returned to the s.h.i.+p's rail to watch the cliffs around their anchorage, a small cove on Kypriang's lush western sh.o.r.e. The night, warm and damp, folded around her like a blanket. With her magical vision she didn't need light to see the raka, standing or seated on rocks that overlooked the cove. It seemed they required no light, either. Lamps burned only aboard the trio of s.h.i.+ps that rocked on the gentle waters. The moon had just begun to show its rim over the mountains that formed Kypriang Isle's spine.

"They're our people, too." Twelve-year-old Dovasary rested her hands on the rail as she came to stand beside Aly. She spoke in Common, not Kyprish. "Our mother-Sarai's and mine-was a raka. Sarugani of Temaida. Her family was of the older n.o.bility, from before the luarin came, but they don't have a t.i.tle higher than baron now."

"They're lucky to have that much. None of our raka family talks about who they were or what they did before the invasion," Saraiyu remarked quietly. She came to lean on the rail on Aly's other side. "They must have seen their friends being slaughtered or sold. They would have beggared themselves with the conquest taxes rather than suffer the same fate."

"You're half luarin yourself," replied Aly, her voice idle, her attention apparently on the sh.o.r.eline. "Begging your ladys.h.i.+p's pardon."

"That would be the half that cousin Oron seems determined to murder or disgrace," Sarai pointed out. "Even a madman should have more care for his own blood kin, particularly given the nest of vipers at court."

Aly smoothed a hand over the rail. "Forgive me for saying it, but your ladys.h.i.+p comes close to treasonous talk," she murmured. "I'd as soon be with the part of the family that's exiled but alive."

"You won't betray us," Saraiyu replied casually. "I don't know about Tortall, but here the entire household is executed along with the suspected traitor. Then they sell the one who reported their masters, if they're known, to Carthak."

"Ouch," said Aly, meaning it. "That's not the way to create support among the lower cla.s.ses."

"The thinking is that a servant of traitors who turns the traitors in is doubly treasonous, to her master as well as the king," Dovasary explained. "They like to nip that sort of thing in the bud."

Sarai turned to face east, watching the moon rise, leaning back on the rail with her elbows and rump. The torchlight slid along her long, barely hooked nose and over a full, sensual lower lip, then flickered along the curved lines shaped by her plain pink luarin-style gown. It lent sparkle to her brown eyes and caressed her perfectly arched brows and high cheekbones.

"Is it so hard, being half raka?" Aly wanted to know. "All Rajmuat-even a fresh-caught luarin slave like me-knows the lady Saraiyu is considered one of the beauties of the city."

Sarai's smile was crooked. "By men, and the raka n.o.bility, and some of the luarin houses, yes, I suppose." She looked at her sister. "It's not vanity, Dove. I can count as well as the next person."

Dove shrugged. "I didn't utter a word."

Sarai made a noise that in a less attractive girl would have been labeled a snort. "And yet, when it comes to marriage, it's amazing how many luarin families discover marriages that were arranged when their sons were in the cradle. Marriages their young men had neverheard of until then. Particularly the higher-ranking luarin n.o.bles. I can't help but notice how many young men give way when they learn their mothers don't care for the color of the future bride's skin, however beautiful she may be."

Dove sighed. "And the raka n.o.bles are wary around us because we've got Rittevon blood in our veins. They don't want to lose their sons the next time the king thinks his relatives are plotting against him."

"Dovasary!" whispered Sarai, shocked.

The younger girl leaned around Aly to look at her sister. "I have ears, Sarai, and people hardly ever notice me. I know what I hear. The raka don't want to risk the Rittevon insanity for their grandchildren."

Aly grimaced. She'd once overheard one of Tortall's young knights, a Bazhir, tell Grandfather Myles, "Oh, I'm considered wonderful when it comes to letting and losing blood for the Crown. But marriage? Even jumped-up merchants who weren't barons a generation ago won't let their daughters marry a Bazhir, whatever their wealth and standing."

I suppose I'd best remember what the Bazhir at home endure, she thought, before I go looking down my nose at the luarin. You really should have a clean house at home before you start picking at the way your neighbor does the dusting.

"What does a slave know of treason and kings anyway?" asked Dove. Her dark eyes were now intent on Aly's face.

Aly shrugged. "I was a maid in a n.o.bleman's castle when I was taken," she replied. "Myears are as good as anyone's."

"I don't see how any Tortallan girl would want to be a maid, not with all the choices you have, compared to us," Sarai remarked. "If I lived there, I'd join the Queen's Riders, and learn to ride and use a sword and bow like they do. Or maybe even become a knight like the Lady Knight Keladry. The raka ladies of old knew how to fight. In the last great battle against the luarin, on the Plain of Sorrows, a third of the Kyprin warriors were female."

"And the whole army got thrashed," Dove reminded her sister mercilessly. "The conquerors had more battle mages, and more catapults, and ballistas, and liquid fire. It didn't matter how many women fought with the raka that day. They died just as easily as the men."

"You're soprosaic, Dove. Oh, look, the raka." Sarai pointed to the rocks about the cove. The moon was above the mountains now, a huge pearl in the indigo sky.

By its light the people on the cliffs were clearly visible. "They've been doing that all day."

"Sarai?" called Winnamine. "Dove? It's time to sleep."

The two girls rolled their eyes at one another. "No late nights for us," Sarai remarked drily. They went below.

Aly turned back to watch the sea by moonlight. The older Balitang girls struck her as being much like falcons, always hooded and tethered, not able to hunt as their hearts desired. It was such a waste, keeping fiery girls like this in the background, not letting them forge their own path in the world. She'd like to see what these two would accomplish.

Two mornings later their s.h.i.+ps emerged from the Long Strait into the Azure Sea, the body of water that lay between Imahyn and Lombyn Isles. Aly grinned as the captain jubilantly announced that the sea G.o.d Kyprioth was smiling on their voyage. Apparently this was the quickest, smoothest pa.s.sage of the strait the captain had ever made. Duke Mequen finally stopped the man's recital of how unpredictable the pa.s.sage could be, a tale of crosscurrents and wind gusts, with a reminder that he might annoy the G.o.d by too frequently mentioning his name.

Aly wasn't sure how easily annoyed Kyprioth was, but she was distracted from her thoughts as the Azure Sea emerged from its veil of morning fog. Its bright blue waters were clear. Vividly colored fish darted through its depths, circling a population of sea turtles, dolphins, and the occasional eel. The sun burnished the tops of the waves to the color of gold.

Elsren leaned precariously over the rail. "Gull boats!" he cried. Aly seized his luarin-style tunic, securing her adventurous charge. A mult.i.tude of boats was gliding toward them from Imahyn, Ikang, and Kypriang Isles. They were as colorful as the fish, with brightly colored sails, prows and sterns fas.h.i.+oned in long, pointed curves, and every inch of outer hull decorated and painted. Raka sailors, both men and women, dressed in no more than vivid sashes and sarongs, steered the graceful craft as they stared at the Balitang s.h.i.+ps.

"Have you ever seen anything like this?" Mequen asked the captain.

"Never," the man replied, sweating. "Never. And I grew up on the Azure Sea."

"They're unarmed," Winnamine commented. She had a spygla.s.s raised to her eye. "I don't see a weapon anywhere."

As the Balitang s.h.i.+ps sailed north, the fleet of colorful boats parted before them. Elsren and Petranne clamored for a place in the bow. With Aly to keep them from falling overboard, they waved gleefully at the raka and loudly admired the rainbow bevy of s.h.i.+ps. With the dignity suited to their more advanced years, Sarai and Dove came forward to stand with Petranne and Elsren, watching as their mother's people approached.

Aly sharpened her Sight until she could see the raka's faces. The sailors stiffened when the older girls showed themselves; some pointed to them. The raka flotilla swerved, its s.h.i.+ps forming two polite lines. Then, one by one, the s.h.i.+ps glided past the Balitang family's s.h.i.+p, one on either side of their bow.

The raka merely glanced at the three luarin faces-Aly's, Petranne's, Elsren's-then fixed on Sarai's and Dove's light brown ones.

It's not us who brought the raka out, Aly thought. It's Sarai and Dove. The two half-raka girls. The two girls whose mother came from an old n.o.ble house-araka n.o.ble house.

"If you are wise, you will say nothing of this to anyone," Winnamine said from behind them, her melodic voice soft. "Ever. Do you all understand? The king would not like to hear that we drew so much attention from the raka."

Sarai shrugged. "n.o.body cares what the raka do," she replied, gazing at the people who sailed by. "Especially not the king."

"You never know who is watching," persisted Winnamine. "Don't encourage them. Go below."

"When Papa says." Dove didn't even look at her stepmother.

Aly knew Winnamine was right. It seemed that she could start to cover her part of Kyprioth's wager here and now.

"My ladies, my apologies, but this scares me," she whispered, the picture of an alarmed slave. "I've not been here long, but, well, back home there's stories of your king. This could get your house and those raka in trouble with him. We'd all pay for that, in blood, most like."

Sarai glanced at Aly, confused. Aly looked at her and shrugged, suggesting that it was just her opinion.

Dove sighed. She grabbed Sarai's hand and towed her older sister below.

"Well done," murmured the d.u.c.h.ess.

Aly looked up three inches into the d.u.c.h.ess's face. "The wisdom of what you said was just a little slow in reaching their brains," she offered.

"We both know it was the suggested threat to the raka that convinced them,"

replied Winnamine. She rubbed her temples. "They liked me well enough when I married their father, but now they're old enough to be difficult, just because I tell them things they don't wish to hear."

Aly thought of her own mother and winced inwardly. "It's hard, living in the shadow of a respected woman," she told the d.u.c.h.ess.

Winnamine looked at her sharply. "Very wise, for a girl Sarai's age. Perhaps the One who appeared when the matcher looked you over chose well," she said, referring to the G.o.d's visit in terms that Petranne and Elsren wouldn't understand. "He said you were clear-sighted, and would see a way for us out of all this."

"I'm sure I won't need to do any such thing," Aly replied cheerfully. "You'll hardly know I'm here."