Blood and Shadow (The Mage's Gift Book 1) Page 8

  “Husband, are you sure you want to stay?” Mimeru asked. “We are going to indulge shamelessly in woman talk. Dresses and flowers, sweets for the wedding, jewelry and hairstyles and decoration. Everything!”

  Sherakai snorted to himself and scooted into the corner to watch the comings and goings outside. The servants sang quietly while they worked, as if their music might not be proper in the face of the jansu’s absent sons.

  “I will brave your femininity for a few minutes, then flee to safety.” Unperturbed as always, Bairith poured the tea. Steam rose in tenuous streamers, carrying the clove-like scent of isumi. “Lady Imarasu, you are well known for your skill with herbs and such. I—we—would like to ask your advice.”

  “I would be happy to help if I can.” She smoothed the fabric of her fine linen gown and schooled her features. The deep violet color made a perfect foil for her black braids. The high collar emphasized the delicate sweep of her jaw. Tameko always said she made the dress look beautiful, and Sherakai had to agree.

  Bairith waited until she was comfortable before offering her a cup. His fingertips lingered on hers longer than politeness decreed, and she didn’t immediately withdraw. “Mimeru and I have long been denied a hope dear to our hearts. In spite of our earnest endeavors, we do not yet enjoy the blessing of a child.”

  Mimeru’s mouth tightened and her lashes lowered even as she accepted Bairith’s help with the cushions behind her and the cup he offered.

  “I purchased the services of a highly esteemed healer from the mainland, but even his magics failed us. Mimeru has fasted. We have prayed. She has partaken of many supposed cures and employed more rituals than we can count.” He eased down on the bed beside her and put a hand on her blanket-covered leg. “We made offerings to the gods. Mage Tylond fears she has a twisted womb and recommends surgery. Before we resign ourselves to something so terrifying, we wanted to ask your counsel. You have had many children, dear lady. Whatever your secret may be, will you share it? Where have we gone wrong? Something must work…”

  Pale and fragile as a peach blossom, Mimeru only looked into the depths of her tea. She did not drink. She did not speak.

  Sherakai studiously surveyed the trees beyond the keep walls.

  “You have tried nettle leaf?” Imarasu inquired, brows knitting. “Raspberry leaf?”

  “Both, separately and together.”

  “Mandrake?”

  “Several times.”

  Each herb she suggested met with the same response. “Perhaps we could try calling your baby,” she suggested, setting aside her tea to take Mimeru’s hand.

  “Oh,” she whispered. “I remember that ritual. It was peaceful and lovely…”

  Imarasu smiled and gave her daughter’s fingers a little squeeze. “We will try that, then. After the wedding.”

  “Calling the baby?” Bairith inquired, leaning forward in interest.

  “Yes. It involves candlelight and soft music, scented oils and meditation. It is one of the women’s practices.”

  “No men? Not even the prospective father?”

  “No men.” Her voice was crisp.

  By Bairith’s expression, they’d gravely insulted him. “May I refresh your tea?”

  “Thank you, but no.”

  “Very well, I shall leave the two of you to your female plotting.” He kissed Mimeru’s forehead, straightened the light blanket over her legs, and took his leave.

  An odd silence filtered into the room in his absence. Finally, Mimeru sipped her cooling tea. “I will not conceive.”

  “You cannot know that.”

  She sighed and leaned her head back, resting the cup against her belly. One finger rubbed the inset border of diamond shapes, cherry inset in golden oak. “I do. It has been four years. I know that is not absolute proof, but the only thing my husband wants me for is an heir. Sometimes I fear Bairith and Tylond’s ministrations have robbed me of any fertility I once claimed. I am tired, Mama. So tired.”

  “Oh, sweetling… many young wives feel that way, but Bairith is so kind and attentive to you. He loves you.”

  Another sigh feathered from her. When Imarasu stroked her forehead with gentle fingers, Mimeru’s eyes closed. “He is expert at persuading others to see what he wants them to see. He is only so adoring in your company. At the Gates I am merely a thing, not a person.”

  “You are not a thing,” Sherakai declared with heat, surging to his feet. “If he’s mean to you, you should come home.”

  “Sherakai!” Imarasu gasped, eyes widening.

  Mimeru turned her head against the pile of pillows. “Hello, little pitcher. I thought I saw you sneak out.”

  Livid color stained his cheeks. “No, I’m right here.” Obviously. Had they forgotten him?

  “So you are,” his mother sighed, and rubbed her forehead. “A wife’s place is with her husband, Kai. Perhaps when you are old and married you will remember how that affects your own wife.”

  Mimeru smiled. “Kai’s wife will be the luckiest woman in the world, and he will take the best care of her.”

  “When he’s not riding the horses like a madman, balancing on the rooftops, or pretending he can fly.”

  “He will be a man soon enough. I’ve heard about Papa’s adventures, and Kai is so much like him. You haven’t had to call Papa down from the roof, have you?”

  “Not lately.” A reluctant smile crinkled the corners of Imarasu’s eyes.

  “Kai will be as beautiful as you and as wonderful as Papa.”

  “I am still right here,” he pointed out, frowning at the pair of them. “We were talking about Lord Chiro and the way he’s treating Ru.”

  The women exchanged a glance and Mimeru shrugged before taking a tiny sip of her tea.

  “Every husband and wife go through difficult times,” Imarasu said.

  “Not you and Papa.” He’d never seen them argue.

  “Yes, even me and Papa. But Bairith is not Papa. While we are not privy to what goes on in private between the two of you”—she turned back to her daughter—“I have never seen Bairith behave toward you with anything less than affection and respect, Ru. He isn’t boisterous like the Tanoshi clan, but his reservation tends to calm those around him. He is intelligent and well educated, prudent with his money and his magic. He’s modest and charming. It wasn’t so long ago you were completely taken by the man.”

  “Maybe he’s changed,” Sherakai put in. “Or maybe he had you fooled all along.”

  “But not you?” Imarasu asked archly.

  “He looks at me funny.”

  Mimeru covered a strange giggling noise with one hand over her mouth. “He looks at me funny, too, besh me.”

  Little one, she called him. Sherakai rolled his eyes.

  “You’ve been under considerable stress.”

  “We all have.” Mimeru reached out to take Imarasu’s hand.

  A knock on the doorframe heralded Esume, Tasan’s wife. A compassionate smile did nothing to relieve the lines of worry around her mouth and eyes. “Mother, there is weeping in the kitchen that requires your attention. Some cakes burned and the end of the world is at hand. My suggestion to feed them to the goats and get on with the replacements fell on deaf ears, so I fear we must throw you back into the fray. Rila has things well in order with the table decorations, and she’ll be along in a moment. Brace yourself, dear sister,” she said, wagging a finger at Mimeru. “It’s time for us to make ourselves presentable for the ceremony.”

  Sherakai picked up the cups and the tray. “Time for me to make an expert escape.”

  “Yes, straight to your room and your own wardrobe,” Esume ordered. “Don’t make me come find you.”

  Imarasu leaned to kiss Mimeru’s forehead, then straightened. “Is there any word…?” she asked, turning to her daughter-in-law.

  “Nothing yet.” Esume’s determination wavered. She regained her composure with visible effort and threw open the dressing room doors. “They will be sorry they missed seeing us i
n our fanciest gowns and glowing faces. We will be so magnificent the men will scarce be able to breathe.”

  Sherakai hurried for the door before he ended up with ribbons in his braids.

  Chapter 11

  The gathering was too large to accommodate indoors, so the servants and other helping hands—including Sherakai’s—had spent the early morning transforming the inner courtyard. The benches remained, but the tables and torches had been whisked away. A small platform would hold bride, groom, and the Shiran priest in full view of the audience. Tanoshi guards manned the curtain walls in pairs, one facing in and one facing out. Rumor sparked.

  Layers of formality and symbolism wove through a wedding. The priest represented the goddess of love and the Creator Himself. He reminded everyone that the One should come first in all things. The couple knelt before him, the bride on the groom’s right as his helpmeet, and the groom on the bride’s left to protect and defend her. The parents sat on benches to either side of the platform to witness the solemn and joyous occasion.

  Dressed in an elaborate, formal version of the traditional heiban machi—a high-collared tunic with the intricate heiban patterns on yokes, collars, and cuffs—Sherakai sat with his family. Without the strong presence of his brothers he felt exposed. Tasan’s and Fazare’s wives were there, and their tiny children. The oldest was only five, and he appeared as solemn and strained as the adults.

  It struck him then, like a punch to his chest, that Tasan and his wife had lost their own son. He’d wandered off and was never seen again. There’d been no trace to give them a clue where to hunt, and Papa’s magic had failed to find him. Sherakai had been about ten years old, but he still remembered the panic and the anger at finding neither boy nor body. He hadn’t been allowed outside the walls alone for months after that.

  Mimeru sat next to her husband Bairith. Ghosts sported more color than she did. What did her attendance cost her? She sat rigidly upright, hands knotted in her lap, eyes focused on the dais. Her husband didn’t so much as look at her. While he maintained a neutral façade, a strange air surrounded him.

  Fazare’s wife, Rila, plucked at Sherakai’s sleeve with one hand while her other pressed hard against the swollen mound of her belly. The effort did not keep her hand from trembling. He glanced up at her face. Powder concealed dark circles beneath her eyes. He admired her more now than he ever had before. With a baby due to arrive within weeks and her husband and brothers-in-law missing, the simple act of attendance showed strength and loyalty beyond measure.

  The acolytes rang the bells, starting the progressions. The crowd quieted as a choir of children, little Kanya among them, filed into place at the back of the dais. With only a flute for accompaniment, their sweet voices lifted in song as the ceremony began.

  Sherakai sought his little sister's face. So pretty, so innocent… What if he was the only brother she had left? No, he must not think like that! Any moment now Tasan, Toru and Zar would come riding through the gates with some grand story to tell. Father would chastise them severely. Mother would weep, they would humble themselves, and all would be well. What had become of them? They were all good, seasoned warriors. They could take care of themselves. Business sometimes took them away from Tanoshi Keep, but rarely all of them together. Fixtures in his life, they each possessed qualities Sherakai wanted to emulate. He had too much to learn from them still to lose them now.

  “They’ll come home,” he whispered.

  No one heard him. He went through all the motions, oddly detached, waiting for his world to right itself. After the children sang the final song, the newlyweds rose and bowed to their friends. Symbolic of leaving their childhood behind, the bride and groom gave toys to the young choir. Sherakai took part in all three rounds of the rensha, or honor tribute. With honey mead served in delicate clay cups, he toasted the All Father, the Ancestors, and the newly united couple. His voice joined the others to sing the traditional wedding prayer, then he made his way to the dais to offer his gift and his wishes for a bright and prosperous future. He avoided Elinasha’s eyes, and she avoided his. How hard she worked to keep from crying. What an awful wedding…

  More than anything, he wanted to go riding. Wanted to escape the sense of being held suspended. Instead, he did as his father had requested and moved through the crowd, sharing pleasantries and pretending that everything was just fine.

  I can’t lie! he had protested to his parents.

  Until we hear otherwise, everything is fine. If anyone asks, say they were called away suddenly and we can’t share any more information than that. It is no lie. Do this thing for Elinasha and Okata. For our family. For our honor.

  Had a day ever passed so slowly? It was a challenge not to keep looking toward the gates, not to seek out Captain Nayuri to ask for news. Exhaustion numbed him. He had little appetite for more feasting and dancing, yet feast and dance he must. He envied Fazare’s wife. No one had objected when she had excused herself early and escaped to some quiet part of the keep. Mimeru, too, had disappeared. Elinasha, who should have been sparkling with happiness on her wedding day, looked fragile as glass. Her smiles were forced, her eyes shadowed. Every time Sherakai came close to one of the women in the family he was assaulted by the heaviness of fear and guilt they bore. His mother was the worst; the distress in her eyes belied the sweetness of her smiles. He could not find comfort in any of them, and so he avoided them.

  His father, on the other hand, slipped behind the stoic veneer he’d cultivated as general of the army. Nothing moved him from whatever rock of strength to which he moored himself, but neither could Sherakai recognize any of the familiar paternal warmth and kindness he’d known all his life. It confused him. For the hundredth time he wished he had gone with his brothers. He should be with them, helping them. Surely it would be better than being so completely disconnected from everyone he knew and loved. And if his brothers were to be found why not use him? Who knew them better than he did?

  “Kai.”

  He sucked in a surprised breath and stiffened.

  “Sorry.” Chakkan did not smile, but gently pried the untouched plate of food from Sherakai’s fingers. “What can I do to help?” he asked as he handed it to a passing servant.

  What to do with his empty hands? He clasped them behind his back in unconscious imitation of his father. “Help me get out of here so I can hunt for my brothers myself.”

  “At the risk of repeating myself, your father has men out searching. The best men. And you’re a terrible hunter.”

  “I’m not terrible,” Sherakai growled. “And this is different. This is my family. I can’t just—just sit here in the middle of a gecking social gathering and visit!”

  “Hush…” Chakkan put a companionable arm over Sherakai’s shoulders. “Keep your voice down.”

  “No.” He started to pull away, but Chakkan was taller and stronger. Getting free of his hold would cause a scene and he did not want to draw attention to himself. “Let go of me,” he hissed between his teeth. “I need to go. I need to do something to help.”

  “Do you think getting yourself lost or, gods forbid, killed will help anyone?”

  Stiff with anger, Sherakai quivered beneath Chakkan’s arm. “I am not a child. I can find them, I know it. Will you bring Aishe and two of the hounds to meet me outside the wall? Near the butcher’s house.”

  “No. If anything happened to you, your father would never forgive me.”

  “Are you my father’s best friend or mine?” he snarled.

  “Kai—”

  Brows drawn in a tight knot, he stabbed a finger at Chakkan’s face. “You choose right now. Either way, I’m going.”

  Chakkan glanced to where Tameko conversed with a knot of men. He shook his head, reluctance sluicing off him in thick waves. “All right, but I have a bad feeling about this.”

  “Try losing three brothers and see what a bad feeling is really like,” he challenged, teeth bared.

  “Don’t be a halfwit, I said I’d help.”
Turning Sherakai loose, he folded his arms across his chest. “Do you have any brilliant ideas about how to spirit yourself and the animals out of here?”

  One hand smoothed the shoulder of his tunic, features taut and determined. “Yes. I’ll go to the stables to check on Aishe. I’ll have a groom move him to the near pasture where it’s quieter. You can easily take a couple of the dogs out as another patrol around the walls. They’ve been at it all day.”

  Chakkan nodded. “Maybe. Very well. And you?”

  “I’ll need a change of clothes.”

  “One of the servants’?”

  Sherakai’s eyes narrowed as he looked over the crowd. “No, I think being a member of a House retinue will give me a little more freedom.”

  “And you want me to steal from a guest.”

  “Borrow,” he corrected, slanting him a sideways look.

  Chakkan shook his head again. “What about weapons for you? Are we going to borrow those, too?”

  “No, with all the fetching and carrying going on, I should be able to smuggle mine out if I wrap them.”

  “You’ve been working at this all day, haven’t you?”

  Sherakai thumped his fist against Chakkan’s chest. “Find the clothes. Take them to the kitchen servant’s quarters. In the stairwell. No one will be there tonight. When you’ve got them, signal me.”

  “How?”

  “A nod, a wave, I don’t care. Rub your nose and pat your head. I’ll be looking for you, dimwit, you don’t have to send up smoke signals.”

  “Are you—”

  “Yes, I’m sure. Don’t let me down, Chakkan.” His jaw knotted. “I have to do this.”

  Chakkan pursed his mouth, frowned, then nodded. “Stay lucky.”

  “You, too. What did you do with my food?” He looked around, missing it for the first time.

  “I gave it away, why? You weren’t eating it.”

  “No, but I have to keep up appearances.”