That she fully believed this I could see. But from where would this danger come? Would the jealousy of the Great Houses warp and tear apart a long-held peace? Or would some danger, such as she hinted of, come from outside? And what had I, who was no warrior, to do with war?
Allitta returned home at the noon closing of the market. Her baskets of wares were depleted to be sure, but what she had brought was news and I realized that that had been her main reason in the market.
“Those of the House of Trelek have ridden out.” She cupped her bowl of stew with one hand but made no attempt as yet to taste it. “Word has come that Shank-ji has completed those trials set him.”
“Others?” inquired Ravinga as Allitta raised a spoon.
The girl shook her head. “No others—nor are they now expected. A courier has come to say that and the market hums with his news.”
I was suddenly uninterested in my portion of the meal. No others? Two of us only for the final trial?
“They were trying to place wagers at Hawiff’s booth. There were no takers—all believe that Shank-ji need only reach forth his hand to take up the Emperor’s staff and it is his.” Now she looked straight at me and there was plainly a challenge in her tone. “The warriors have been gathering these five days—four more House troops rode in this morning, as well as some from the outer lands. Among such is Klaverel-va-Kalikku.” She repeated that name with deliberation as if to make very sure that I heard and understood.
That my brother had returned did not surprise me—this was an event which would draw many from every one of the five queendoms. All the Queens had made the journey to Vapala, ready to swear homage to the new Emperor, and in their trains there would be many of those from the principal Houses of their queendoms.
“There is talk—” Allitta paused to take up another spoonful of stew and swallow.
“Talk,” Ravinga said. “Of what kind and by whom?”
“Of interference with the Customs—
“Shank-ji must answer that then?”
Allitta shook her head. “No, the interference is said to be his.”
She nodded at me. “They say that his own brother has already sworn that he was not able to win so far without aid, that he consorts with beasts more than with his own kind, that he is already outcast from his House—
I deliberately spooned up what was before me. Could I have expected less? But what aid were they able to claim was mine? I had been escorted by the troops. In each case my coming and going had been under their surveillance. That I consorted with beasts—yes. That I was outcast—perhaps so—I had not returned to my father’s dwelling after my solo, but then the manner of my setting forth for that was enough to warn me off. Could such talk keep me from the final trial, leave Shank-ji a very clear field? Though he must still face bringing out the crown from among those ever-turning, knife-edged plaques.
“And this talk,” Ravinga pursued the subject, “how is it slanted?”
Allitta let her spoon splash down into the bowl and held up her fingers to count off points on those one by one.
“Firstly, there are the merchants. They want uninterrupted trade most of all—and a strong hand with the Houses. Haban-ji was of Vapala and so could muster enough good will of the Houses. The barbarians do not count for much, for the greater merchants do not trade directly with them. And they believe that an Emperor from the outer lands cannot hold a steady rein on the Houses, any more than a child upon an untrained oryxen.
“Then,” she turned down a second finger, “there are the Houses themselves. They will give homage, if grudgingly, to an outlander—and intrigue behind his back. One of their own kind they believe might be influenced outwardly and quickly to understand them and their ways. They might even foresee a bending of a custom in which only the senior son of a House would be thought of for selection of Emperor trials. Shank-ji has a big following among the younger members of many Houses—he is open-handed to his friends while Haban-ji humored him and gave him much.
“Thirdly,” another finger went down, “there are the people as a whole. As the merchants, they want peace and that means a strong Emperor. They do not take kindly to an outsider, especially one suspected of strange powers. That you,” now she addressed me directly, “have your tie with the sandcats is a strong theme of gossip and certainly not in your favor.
“Fourth, the people of the other queendoms—there is other gossip concerning you, Hynkkel, and from those whom all would expect to wish you well rather than ill. Your brother has attached himself to Shank-ji’s following. He has spoken hard and long against you and none of your own clan has answered in your defense. We have heard that only your sister Kura has kept silent and seems to have some feeling for you. However, she is but one against many and is thought to have too soft a heart.”
I winced. What else could I expect from my father? If I had gone back from my solo—no, I was sure he would never have welcomed me as a full son of his.
“They talk much,” Ravinga commented. “Which is only to be expected. There are always rumors upon rumors in the marketplace. When does Shank-ji arrive?”
“Perhaps two days from now.” Allitta took up her spoon again and set to work on the stew.
I pushed aside my own bowl. Though I had somehow won through the other tests, I could now only hold in my mind the picture of the slash-edged mobile swinging in answer to the full arm pull of the guard, the crown resting at its very heart. Still there was nothing left for me but to face it.
“Is there a way I can see the likeness of the mobile without going into the palace square?” I asked then.
“Certainly.” Ravinga raised her voice to carry into the shop. “Mancol, bring hither one of the crown mobiles. We make them in miniature,” she informed me. “They are selling very well during this time. Outlanders buy them as they come here for witnessing the last test. There will be many for that, each of the Queens will bring her guards, and many of her household, while others will travel for themselves. It is perhaps only once in a generation that this happens.”
The old man brought in the flashing, twisting set of plates. Ravinga stood to hook it on one of those cords, meant to hold dried fruit and meat, which hung from the ceiling. I leaned back in my seat to watch it as she set it going well with a touch of finger. At the trial time there would be steady twirling by the control ropes.
There was even a tiny crown within the blades and I regarded that without any wish to lay hands upon it. Did not death most always result from entering the mobile? I knew that it was that which was reserved for criminals whose crimes were considered the blackest. However, those unfortunates were forced in and from the start believed themselves that they had no chance.
There was a dancing light flickering on the plates as they turned. And the musical tinkle was loud in the room, though not as loud as the sound of the thing it so fully represented.
Dancing— I watched the in-and-out weave of the blades. Those real ones were knife sharp, diamond-edged, enough to slit an unfortunate into ribbons. Yet men had survived. For countless generations there had been Emperors and each of them had won his crown by passing among those blades. So it had been done.
Dancing— I closed my eyes against the flicker of the light and again was aware of another time and place, of dancers who were furred of hide and not slick-skinned. Behind me there was a rumble of sound—Murri had come in to lie at length at my back.
“That house in which Murri sheltered on our first visits, it is a ruin, but does not it have a great hall?”
Ravinga nodded. Allitta had returned to her dinner as if she had played her full part in the matter. She did not even seem to be listening.
“Have I your leave to go there?” I continued. “There is a need for thinking—”
“It is yours. None shall disturb you there,” the dollmaker returned. Nor did she show any curiosity about what I wished. Perhaps she believed that I was about to seek out the Essence in silent meditation. Which also I was minded to do—but later.
With Murri I made my way into the ruin. It was more promising on the inside than the out. Perhaps it had once been the headquarters of a minor House. I kicked the refuse from the center floor and hung on a panel I half pulled from the wall-where I could watch it—the mobile.