The Eternal Rose Page 9

  "Messenger,” he said. “From Habadra."

  Kallista stood, with dignity and aplomb rather than leaping from the chair fast enough to knock it over the way she wanted. “That will be all for now, Taylin.” She dismissed the secretary-farspeaker. “Have Fenetta stand ready in Arikon at the same time tomorrow. I may not need her, but I'll let you know tomorrow."

  The young farspeaker bowed and began gathering paperwork as Kallista led the way to the formal reception room where the messenger would be waiting.

  Kallista hadn't been in this room before. Quietly impressive, it had the wide Daryathi floor-to-ceiling doors open to the courtyard breezes—a different courtyard from that off the family quarters. It was decorated in Adaran fashion with inlaid stone mosaics on the floor and columns along the walls.

  A young man, his black hair caught back in an unbraided queue, stood at attention in the center of the room. Bare-chested beneath a leather harness, he wore a purple kilt embroidered with white cranes from waist to knees held in place by a wide belt from which two empty scabbards hung, both of these on his left side. Sandals laced up to his knees.

  Kallista had seen a good number of similarly dressed young men at the en-Kameral yesterday, and had assumed they served the same purpose Torchay and her other bodyguards did. But here this one was, serving as messenger.

  He straightened from his bow. Tattooed face, unmarked hands, Kallista noted. In fact, he had no tattoos anywhere but his face. With most of him on display, it was easy to see. Champion then, but not dedicat. Obed had explained that only dedicats carried the body tattoos, and the more tattoos a champion bore, the higher he had developed his skills before leaving his skola. Was this why Obed was so modest now? Because he'd worn so few clothes before, to let the tattoos show?

  She inclined her head in recognition of the man's bow. “You have a message for me?"

  The young champion bowed again. “Honor to the Reinine of all Adara."

  He paused as Stone entered the chamber, followed by Namida Ambassador, then bowed to each of them in turn.

  "Habadra Khori bids me say these words to you,” he went on when all the bowing was done. “Habadra Khori will meet with the husband of her servant this night at the first bell after sundown, to discuss terms. As a sign of her high esteem for the Reinine and of her eagerness to treat with you in an open and honorable fashion, the Habadra has sent this one—” Here the young man bowed again, lower than before. “—as a gift to the Line of the Reinine to serve as pleases her."

  Chapter Seven

  When he finished speaking, the messenger—gift?—widened his stance and clasped his hands behind his back in what would be Adaran parade rest, while Kallista tried with all her might not to goggle at him. She beckoned Namida closer and whispered to Torchay, “I think we need Obed on this one. Send someone—"

  Torchay was already signaling one of the other men in bodyguard's red-trimmed blacks. With Stone here, Torchay would allow her secondary guard to play errand boy.

  "Tonight is the party at Shakiri House,” Namida said, her voice too quiet to carry far. “The Godmarked are invited with yourself, my Reinine."

  "I'm sure that's why the Habadra has made her invitation for tonight.” Goddess, Kallista hated politics.

  "I'm going,” Stone said, his jaw set stubbornly. “To meet this Habadra woman."

  "Yes,” Kallista agreed. “But not alone. Viyelle, and whoever else wants to go."

  "That'd likely be all of us, but we can't all go,” Torchay said with a wry smile. “Fox will want to. Take him."

  "And Joh,” Kallista said. “Between him and Viyelle, you'll have all the negotiating skills you might want."

  "But Shakiri—” Namida Ambassador spoke up.

  "Will have to make do with the Reinine, the official Reinas and three Godmarked.” Kallista looked up as Obed strode in, his black robe billowing behind him.

  "Youhaveneedofme,myReinine?"Obed's Adaran-style bow still creaked at the edges, but not badly enough for any but another Adaran to notice.

  "Yes, love.” Kallista touched his cheek, feeling as if she played to a crowd. She did, though the crowd held only one member. “The Habadra has gifted us with this young champion. What in seven hells am I supposed to do with him? How big an insult would it be to send him back?"

  Namida blanched.

  "Big enough to make an enemy of Habadra for generations to come,” Obed said. “I am told this is what began the enmity between Shakiri and Habadra. The Shakiri sent back a gift of the Habadra. It was a breeding bull, not a man, but it was the same principle."

  "I was afraid of that.” Kallista propped her hands on her hips and studied her new retainer. He pretended not to notice, staring straight ahead at nothing at all.

  "And, my Reinine,” Namida Ambassador spoke up. “You must send a gift of equal value with your response to the message."

  "Well, I am certainly not sending her one of my bodyguards.” Kallista's voice rose with her temper until anyone in the courtyard outside could hear. “Or one of our troopers."

  "No, my Reinine. Of course not.” Namida bowed as low as the young champion had, though with more style.

  Kallista blew out a breath. “So what can we send? Ironwork?” Adaran ironwork was prized worldwide. “A horse?"

  Obed nodded slowly. “A horse would do. One of the stallions bred from the drover-Korbin-Southron cross, perhaps...” He addressed the messenger. “Are you Habadra-tha or -sa?"

  The young man flushed, gathered himself and bowed again. “This one is Habadra-sa, Reinas."

  "So.” Obed turned back to Kallista. “Not a stallion. A mare. A stallion is much more valuable than this champion. A mare, because she can only produce one foal a year, is only a little more costly. That would show generosity, but not recklessness or desperation."

  "A horse is more valuable than a man?” Kallista muted her disapproval, but oh, she liked this place less and less.

  "Horses are more fragile and not so easily replaced. And he is only -sa.” Obed must have seen Kallista's confusion, for he continued. “There is -tha, -sa and -ti. They are the families associated with a line. Habadratha would be the families who have served as trusted retainers since the line began. Habadra-sa—like this one—are the families that associated with the line after its formation, but for many generations. Habadra-ti would be those who have no names of their own. The servants who bind themselves to serve a line in payment of debt, who will again have no names when the year of the jubilee comes and they are freed. Merinda and her child are Habadra-ti."

  "Oh.” Kallista tried to absorb the knowledge. They were ranks—tha, sa and ti, in descending order. Surely she could remember that.

  "Since we're keeping him,” Torchay said. “What do you suppose we ought to do with him?"

  Kallista opened her mouth, but had no idea what to say. “I don't know,” she said finally. “I'll let you and Keldrey sort that out. Obed, you choose the horse. And we'll need a messenger to take it, I suppose."

  "The embassy has messengers, my Reinine,” Namida said. “Might I suggest a troop escort as well? To discourage thieves?"

  "Fine, fine.” Kallista walked up to her new champion. “What's your name, son?"

  He flushed crimson and bowed once more. “This one is called by any name you choose to give me—” He paused before he spoke again, almost choking on the words. “My Reinine."

  This was going to work so well. He obviously was not happy at being given away like—like a puppy who'd grown too big.

  "Do you accept this gift from the Habadra?” The champion held his upper body at a slight angle, a half-bow, his eyes—his whole face cast down.

  Kallista sighed. “Yes. I accept this gift from Habadra Khori to the Varyl Line.” She didn't want to insult anyone before they had their family members out of the Habadra's power.

  The champion finished his bow, then bent and unlaced his sandals. Kallista decided it must be part of some gifting ceremony when he removed them and wrapped the
m neatly together. He took off his belt, but set his empty scabbards in a separate pile. The leather harness came off next. She didn't get worried until he unwrapped his short purple kilt and folded it on top of all the leather. Surely he would retain at least his smallclothes, the lightweight short-legged breeches he wore beneath the kilt. But no, those came off too.

  Obed stopped her when she would have protested, murmuring in her ear. “It signals his change of allegiance from Habadra Line to yours. He comes to you with only himself and his skills, embodied in his swords. He leaves behind everything Habadra, including his name, and becomes Varyl-sa."

  Kallista blinked at her new champion, who picked up his scabbards and held them in one hand as he returned to attention. He was certainly a fine-looking young man. She was still blinking when she turned to look at her iliasti.

  Torchay choked back laughter. “If you could see your face ... I've never seen you so flummoxed."

  "Yes, well—” Kallista's voice cracked.

  Namida cleared her throat. “He certainly is ... flummox-worthy."

  "Yes, he is.” Kallista took another peek. “Torchay, find him some clothes. And a place. Namida, you and Stone work out the message for the Habadra. Obed, don't you have a horse to select?"

  They began to scatter, to fulfill her orders. Before he could escape, Kallista punched her dark ilias in the arm. “Why didn't you warn me?"

  "Warn you what?” Obed gave her a puzzled look as he rubbed his practically-imaginary sore spot.

  "About this gift thing.” She punched him again. “What he was going to do."

  Obed shrugged. “It is a change-of-allegiance thing, not a gift thing, and I did not warn you because I did not know it was necessary."

  "Did you ever—?"

  "No. Not until I left the skola. I was im-Shakiri, of the direct line, who never change allegiance until they wed. And I was dedicat as well as champion."

  "And just what is a dedicat?” This time, she was determined to get answers out of him.

  "Many things.” Obed smiled. “Set apart from the world, from other champions to focus on what would be demanded of us. Champions go out into the world to serve where they are needed—as bodyguards, to keep order—in many ways. Dedicats ... do not."

  "So what do they do?"

  Obed bowed, still smiling. “I would tell you, but it is a very long telling, and I am commanded to choose a horse."

  Kallista growled and he laughed. “Truly,” he said. “I will tell you. But it will take time, and time is not a luxury we have just now."

  Reluctantly, Kallista let it go. “Fine. Go pick out the right horse. But I have your promise. You will tell me."

  "I will.” He blew her a kiss and strode from the room, his robe blowing with the window draperies as he passed through.

  Kallista found herself alone with two of her young military bodyguards. As she left the reception chamber, Leyja came jogging up to join them with a smile, a nod and a murmured “My Reinine."

  Ah, the joys and burdens of rule.

  * * * *

  The Shakiri party began just at sundown, before Stone was expected at Habadra House. Kallista didn't like leaving him, even with the others, but she had to trust him to handle things. Stone only seemed irresponsible. He knew what was important and fulfilled all his duties, though he might joke while he did. He had acted as sole protector of the most vulnerable members of their family during the early days of the Barbs’ rebellion and kept them all safe and whole. He could certainly do this.

  Still, Kallista's attention was not fully on the people before her when she dismounted from her gaudily decorated horse outside Shakiri House a few streets from the embassy. Namida Ambassador had suggested sedan chairs as more befitting the Reinine's dignity. Kallista had refrained from retorting that being carried about in a lacquered chair by six strong men as if she were too feeble to carry herself would be positively destructive of the Reinine's dignity. She said only that she was Reinine and soldier, and that she would ride.

  Fortunately, there was more fabric than decoration to tonight's party dress—white, trimmed with red and gold—so she could move with a bit more ease. The trousers beneath the long side-slit tunic were trimmed only at the ankle and she wore no overrobe at all.

  Obed, dressed in matching white, red and gold, took her arm and escorted her into the House of the Line to which he had been born. Torchay stalked at her opposite elbow in his military dress red-trimmed blacks, the brown-and-gold stag of his home prinsipality reduced to a badge on the left shoulder of the new button-front uniform tunic. Behind them followed Aisse and Leyja in their party-going finery, Leyja's blacks matching Torchay's save for her silver-shell prinsipality badge. Aisse wore red, white and gold, but in her dress, the red dominated.

  They strolled through the entrance courtyard filled with temporarily erected statuary, fountains and exotic blooming plants. Servants stood on either side, holding torches in a living arch of light. Stone filigree separated the public and private sections of the courtyard. Invited guests stepped to either side and bowed as Kallista and the Godmarked entered, creating an aisle to the double doors flung wide in invitation.

  There, Shakiri Shathina waited, her white hair coiled atop her head like a crown, interlaced with a gold chain that reinforced the crown look. She wore an ankle-length dress of six or seven delicate layers shading from deep blue-purple to a blue so pale it was almost white, each layer shorter so that the last fell just below her hips. The dress was cinched at her waist with a heavy gold belt that matched the elaborate pectoral collar inlaid with sapphire-mosaic lotus blossoms. The whole of it looked incredibly heavy, despite the lightness of her dress.

  Kallista was grateful that the Reinine's primary symbols of office were the seldom-worn crown, safely back home in Arikon, and the seal hanging from her belt, mingling anonymously with her military honors.

  She waited, a small, polite smile on her face, for the Shakiri to bow. Kallista had spent all of her adult life in the military. She knew rank and its value, and by any measurement, even if she was married to one of the im-Shakiri, Kallista held the higher rank. Kallista was sole ruler of the entire Adaran nation while Shakiri Shathina shared a seat on the Daryathi executive council with four others. And Kallista was Godstruck.

  So she waited, smiling, for the Shakiri to recognize that fact. As the moment stretched, Kallista calculated her response should the Shakiri offer the insult of failing to bow. Turn and walk out, she supposed. Had anyone ever denied this woman anything? Had anyone ever defied her inside the walls of her own House? Finally, with a sour grimace, Shakiri Shathina jerked into motion, executing a grudging, barely polite bow.

  Kallista let her smile show real pleasure—she was grateful Shathina had enough sense to avoid a diplomatic incident—and returned the bow in elaborate Adaran style. “Thank you for your courtesy, Shakiri,” she said, taking the woman's hand in both of hers. “You remember these of the godmarked?"

  She beckoned her iliasti forward. Obed scowled, but Kallista ignored it. Perhaps it was a breach of etiquette not to introduce him first as husband, but Shathina knew him already. She could greet him first.

  "Are there not more of these godmarked in your court?” Shathina freeed her hand from Obed's double-handed clasp. “Where are they?"

  "A matter concerning their children.” Kallista answered Shathina's intrusive query—one the older woman doubtless already knew the answer to—with a polite evasion that had the benefit of being truth, if not all of it.

  "Oh? I hope it is not serious.” Shathina kept her attention on Kallista as she exchanged perfunctory greetings with Torchay, Aisse and Leyja.

  "I fear that it is.” Kallista hoped she was conveying the message that she would tolerate no interference in the matter. “I am most concerned."

  "Then, if it please the One, I hope everything turns out as you wish.” Shathina's smile went no deeper than the tint coloring her lips.

  Kallista returned her own grim smile. “I am
sure it will."

  The Shakiri's smile went stiff, and she turned away, toward a woman standing literally in the Shakiri's shadow. An echo of Shakiri Shathina, the woman was some thirty years younger. She wore a lighter gold chain through coils of dark hair beginning to show a lacing of silver, and a smaller gold collar. Her dress matched the Shakiri's, except the layers shaded with the deepest color on top. She had the same austere, handsome features as the Shakiri, but this woman seemed somehow more ... alive.

  "My daughter, Bekaara.” Shathina flipped a hand her way. “I understand you have had dealings."

  Obed almost grinned as he caught the hands his cousin held out to him.

  "I see you have landed in thick cotton,” Bekaara said as she pulled him in for an embrace.

  "More than ever I expected. All thanks to you for your care and instruction.” He drew her toward Kallista. “Bekaara taught me all I know of trade and of honor."

  Shakiri Shathina made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort, but since she said nothing, Kallista ignored her.

  "Cousin,” Obed held Bekaara's hand in one of his and took Kallista's in the other, drawing them together. “This is my Kallista.” He didn't hesitate, as he might have if he'd been choosing between ‘wife’ and ‘ilias.’ “My beloved. Chosen and marked by the very hand of the One. As are we all."

  He reached toward the others, bringing them closer. “My chosen brother and sisters, my fellow godmarked. There are four others, but they are—” Obed glanced over his shoulder at his aunt, who had moved away, apparently to give instructions to servants. “They are dealing with the Habadra."

  "Will it make trouble for you? Helping us deal with Shakiri's enemy?” Kallista clasped Bekaara's hand now, in greeting and more.

  She shrugged. “I will endure it. I am my mother's only daughter."

  "But you have a daughter,” Obed said.

  "Shakiri Shathina has not yet succeeded in turning her completely against me. I am safe enough for now.” Bekaara smiled and waved her hands as if shooing away biting insects, or evil biting thoughts. “Enough about that. I want to know what you mean when you say ‘Godmarked.’ Do you mean literally marked? As Obed is marked?” She gestured at the tattoos on his face.