Mercadian Masques

Chapter 15

After much effort, Sisay obtained an interview with Orim, who was being held in a small suite of rooms beneath the statehouse. If a makeshift prison, it was a spacious one, but the lack of growing things and the forced confinement had pushed Weatherlight's healer back into a state of acute depression. Under Sisay's prodding, she repeated the conversation she had overheard. She vigorously expressed her opinion that Guard Commander Oustrathmer and the Mercadian ambassador were responsible for the theft and murder. They had made off with the Power Matrix, framed Orim, and left the Weatherlight officers virtual captives in the city.

"One thing's sure," Orim said bitterly. "The Mercadians have accomplished what they intended. We're stuck here, and they've got the Matrix."

Sisay nodded. "I'm afraid so. There's a hearing scheduled for two weeks from today, and the gods know how long that will drag on."

"What about the Mercadians? What are they doing?"

"They're gone. They disappeared just after your arrest." Sisay slammed a hand angrily on the arm of her chair. "Can you believe it? They couldn't have left the city without help from within-the Saprazzan commander you mentioned. The Mercadians are gone with the Matrix, and we're stuck here."

"What do we do?"

Sisay began to pace restlessly, kicking pieces of furniture as she passed. "Well, we've got to do something. I'm going to talk to the vizier."

Though in the past Sisay had had little difficulty obtaining an audience with the Saprazzan leader, today she found her way barred by Guard Commander Oustrathmer. When she insisted on seeing the vizier, he motioned several guards over and stood implacably before the door.

Sisay grew belligerent. "Look, just take her the message that I need to see her! Is that too much to ask?"

He replied in an unmistakable Saprazzan negative.

"She'll damn well see me, and you know it! Of all the-"

"What is the matter?" came the vizier's gentle voice. She came to the doorway. Her face seemed older, wearier.

The dark woman drew a breath and fought to control her emotions. "Vizier, I must speak with you."

"I cannot free your friend. We have already discussed this matter."

"Vizier, that's not what I'm asking. I understand she must stand trial. But what I have to say, I would rather say-" she shot a venomous look at the commander- "in private."

Oustrathmer spoke coldly to his vizier. The Saprazzan leader put a hand on his arm and made a request in Saprazzan. He replied in the negative, but the tone of her final words brooked no resistance. Oustrathmer's face turned pale. With a brief salute, he marched away from the door, allowing Sisay through.

The vizier beckoned Sisay to follow into the counsel chamber. They seated themselves on either side of the table. At a gesture from the vizier, a servant brought them each a tall glass of clear, cold water and then retired from the room.

The Saprazzan looked at the Dominarian silently, waiting for her to speak.

Sisay spread a hand on the table before her. "Excellency, I am as concerned about this theft and murder as you. Now the Matrix is in the hands of those who do not believe. If Orim had conspired to steal the artifact, at least she would have stolen it to raise Ramos. But those who have the Matrix wish only to prevent him from rising."

"We do not know yet who stole the Matrix."

"Orim was attacked by a Mercadian and your guard commander."

"So she says," interrupted the vizier.

Sisay nodded. "Yes, but assume for a moment her story is true. If that's the case, your enemies have our ship and your Matrix. If they can acquire the Bones of Ramos too, we'll all be doomed."

The vizier shook her head skeptically. "And if you had the Matrix and could join it with your ship and the Bones of Ramos, what is to say you would use your ship to help us? We Saprazzans might be doomed anyway."

"No," Sisay said, clear eyed. "I give you my word. If Ramos rises, his children-Cho-Arrim, Rishadan, and Saprazzan- will rise too."

Even after two weeks, Orim found sleeping difficult in Saprazzo. The soft, diffuse light that came through her underwater window made her feel sleepy and sluggish, and the perpetual damp gave her the feeling she risked molding. Her bedclothes felt damp as well, and she often shivered beneath them half the night, or avoided them altogether, rising to pace back and forth across the room, waiting impatiently for morning.

Even the coming of day brought no change in her restlessness. The Saprazzans were continuing their investigation of the theft and murder, but at a leisurely pace, characteristic of everything that happened in the city. Orim was permitted to leave her quarters and move freely about Saprazzo, but she was invariably accompanied by a guard, who never left her side. She could talk to whomever she pleased, and though she spent time with Hanna and Sisay, she found she had little to say to them. Most days she spent meditating in her cell or sitting on the seawall and staring at the everchanging water.

This morning, in what had become a disturbingly familiar routine, she rose, dressed, and rang the bell that signaled she was ready for breakfast. Having completed the meal, she opened the door and, the guard at her side, walked up into the city.

Unlike Dominarian merfolk, Saprazzans were excessively friendly, even with a prisoner. Orim had several times been invited to dine with the vizier, who questioned her extensively about Dominaria and the journeys of Weatherlight. Orim answered the questions as best she could, trying to avoid explaining too much about the Legacy or Gerrard. The vizier never seemed to take offense when her questions were turned aside. Instead, she moved politely on to some less sensitive topic.

Orim's daily meditation in the little courtyard had reduced the pain of Cho-Manno's death to a dull heartache. It no longer overwhelmed her, as it had in the first weeks since it occurred, but it was always with her, always a sadness that rose up behind every thought and action.

Now, as she sat in the courtyard, the sun slowly rose over the city. Orim emptied her mind as the Cho-Arrim had taught her. She let her senses flow out around her, embracing her surroundings. The voice of Cho-Manno returned to her.

To live is to grow. We live only because we are growing. Even death is a kind of growth. Growth is more than mere change. To grow is to become one with those things around you. All existence-the sky, the earth, the water-strives to become one. All things yearn to be united to one another. Thus to grow is to progress toward a state of oneness, of unity.

Intellectually it had been easier for Orim to grasp this idea than to understand all its spiritual implications. The desire for unity was common to many religious systems. She had encountered such beliefs many years before at the Argivian University. What she found more difficult was the Cho-Arrim conviction that to actually attain unity with one's surroundings meant rejecting the logical connections formed by the conscious mind and surrendering to those elements she had always rejected as irrational and ineffable. Nonetheless, each time she practiced the meditation Cho-Manno taught, she felt closer to a moment of revelation, a flash of insight in which all creation would suddenly come into focus and, for the first time, she would become complete. This feeling was still a dim anticipation, but she now found meditation a delicious rest rather than a vain striving against some distant, unattainable goal.

She felt, rather than heard, a step behind her on the stones of the courtyard. Her concentration broke, and she rose, a reproof on her lips.

Silence enveloped her. The world rushed away, and all she knew was concentrated in the face before her.

Cho-Manno.

He stood exactly as she remembered him, one eyebrow slightly raised, his mouth drooping half-humorously. He was clad as he had been that day of the raid-in a short skirt, his chest bare, and coins flashing in the braids of his hair. She could see the fine beads of sweat on his breast, the gentle rhythm of his breathing as he looked silently at her. She gave a wordless cry and held up a hand, blocking him from her sight. Then, cautiously, she lowered her hand and saw that he was still there, still gazing at her. His soft brown eyes reflected all the world in their deep pools.

Without another sound, she ran to him and was gathered into the warmth of his embrace. She heard his voice, just as she'd remembered it so many times. "Orim. Chavala."

She pressed into his chest until she could hear his heart beating. His hands caressed her hair. He knelt, pulling her down with him, and covered her mouth with his lips in a kiss that lasted forever.

The healer pushed away from him, suddenly, thrusting herself back with rigid arms. "No! No! You're not here! You're dead! You died in the Mercadian raid!" She bent almost double, weeping. All the pain of that tragedy returned, as fresh as it had been a month ago.

Cho-Manno reached out for her, and again she backed away. "Orim," he said, his voice calm and reasonable. "I am not dead. How could I be, when you see me here, when you touch me? I am not dead, chavala. It is you who have been dead and are now alive."

Still crying, the healer shook her head. "You can't be alive. Everyone saw you die."

"They saw what they thought they saw. I was not dead, and here I am to prove it to you." He drew Orim to him, and this time she did not resist. Their kisses were gentler this time, less urgent.

At last Orim withdrew. "What happened?"

The Cho-Arrim leader shrugged. "I was badly hurt, but not, as they thought, killed. It is more difficult for my people to die than you suppose, Orim. We have such a strong life-urge within us. Yet we can be killed, and many were that day."

"Is-Shada?"

"Yes, she and others. We fled across the lagoon to the Navel of the World and from there into the Inner Waters. It is a dangerous place, and we do not like to go there, but I knew that once there none would find us." Cho-Manno chuckled grimly. "If the Inner Waters frighten a Cho-Arrim, how much more will it frighten a Mercadian?"

"What is it?"

"It is a bad place, Orim." For the first time, Cho-Manno looked troubled. "Do not ask me about it. It is a place of decay and rot. Others died there. There, we lost Ta-Karnst."

"Ta-Karnst." Orim closed her eyes, remembering the ChoArrim healer.

Cho-Manno nodded. "His soul is with the river now." He rose and stretched, one hand absently stroking Orim's hair as she gazed up at him. "At last we fled that place. We could not return to the village. The Mercadians had destroyed it and placed guards about the site, and 1 knew that if any of us appeared, they would never rest until they brought us down. We traveled south for many days until we came to where the Rushwood ends and the Endless Water begins."

Orim nodded. "The Outer Sea."

Cho-Manno repeated the words to himself, and Orim was reminded of his habit of learning new words and phrases, almost as a compulsion.

"The waters of this place are not as friendly to us," he resumed. "They are bitter rather than sweet. Nonetheless, we dwelt for a few days at the very edge of the Rushwood while we debated what to do. While we were there, we captured a traveler, who proved to be Ramosan. He-"

Orim lifted her hand. "What is a Ramosan?" "A society of Mercadians who fight against the khovoshtvo." Cho-Manno used the Cho-Arrim word for goblins, a word charged with contempt. "They are few and secret, but we know something of them. This man was one of them. From him we learned of what had happened to you after the attack. The Ramosans told us you and your comrades had headed to Saprazzo. I told him you must have sought the mind of the Uniter. He warned that the Mercadians would take it before you could, in hopes of destroying the Uniter, or using it for their own gain." Orim nodded. "Prophetic words…" "We determined to come to Saprazzo to aid you. In the past, Saprazzans have given help to the Ramosans. We came, but not soon enough."

"How long have you been in the city?" "Since yesterday." Cho-Manno anticipated her next question. "I have waited to see you, chavala, because I needed first to be sure of my reception by the Saprazzans. Dear as you are to me, I have a political responsibility to my people."

He linked Orim's arm through his and walked slowly about the courtyard. They stopped near a stream, and Cho-Manno let the fresh sparkling water run over his hand. It seemed to give him new strength, and he smiled and laughed as it bubbled over his fingers.

The vizier gathered them all-Orim, Cho-Manno, Sisay, Hanna, and several Saprazzan officials and advisors-in her rooms. Also present was a thin, dark man, with a long angled scar running from the comer of one eyebrow to his chin. Orim deduced correctly that this must be the Ramosan Cho-Manno had told her about.

The vizier's face was serious as she addressed them. "I have spoken with my Circle, with Cho-Manno of the Cho-Arrim, and with Lahaime of the Ramosans. We have pondered why the Matrix was stolen and its guard slain, and who would perpetrate such a crime in the heart of the city." She rose and stood before Orim, looking the healer full in the face. "Orim, Cho-Manno of the Cho-Arrim tells me he is certain you had nothing to do with this crime. Will you truth-speak with him to confirm your innocence?"

Orim hesitated. Truth-speaking, she knew from her time among the Cho-Arrim, was a practice that was used only in the cases of most extreme crimes. The merging of two minds was a difficult and often extremely unpleasant business. She looked at Cho-Manno's dark face as he sat expressionless, then turned to the vizier and nodded wordlessly.

The Cho-Arrim leader came before her. He did not touch her, but instead looked long into her eyes. He began a low, soft chant and closed his own eyes.

Orim felt the chant run through her mind, but instead of soothing her as Cho-Arrim ritual chants had done in the past, his words beat against her brain, forcing it open. She felt violated and started to protest, but could not break away from his power.

Cho-Manno's presence suffused her. Into her mind poured his entire life-not merely its events but its emotions. She saw his mother and father, his brother, his sisters. She felt his pain when his sister Is-Mashtsun was lost in the dark places of the Rushwood and never found. She heard the great weeping of his mother and father. She experienced his joy when he came of age, and the awe with which he realized that he, of all the tribe, had been chosen as leader.

Then, with an odd feeling, she relived his first meeting with her, and the feelings that stirred within him as he beheld her, as he desired her. She felt all this, and in some part of her mind knew that he was exploring her life too, experiencing her emotions.

A cool hand touched her forehead. Orim opened her eyes. Tears streamed down her cheeks. The vizier gazed at her with great pity. "Cho-Manno has assured me of your innocence in this matter, Orim," said the woman. "We are sorry for the pain you have experienced at our hands. You are free to go where you will."

Orim bowed her head in acknowledgment. The Saprazzan leader continued, "Cho-Manno has also confirmed to us the truth of your vision of the thieves and murderers. We will act upon this."

She turned to her guard and spoke several short, harsh sentences in Saprazzan. The guard bowed his head in a brief salute and went out.

The vizier turned back to Orim and Cho-Manno. "I have instructed the guard to place a watch upon Guard Commander Oustrathmer. He must not yet know we have received evidence of his guilt in this matter. There is something going on, something much more complex than I first suspected. I think we have been caught in a great web, and the more we struggle against it, the tighter it will bind us to it."

Orim asked, "What about Oustrathmer? What will you do with him?"

The vizier smiled grimly. "It would be foolish not to take advantage of a tool so ready at hand," she said. "Clearly the guard commander has had considerable dealings with the Mercadians. He likely has already reported that leaders of the Cho-Arrim and of the Ramosan rebels are seeking the help of Saprazzo. Perhaps we can use our spy to spread misinformation to the Mercadians."

She looked thoughtfully at the Ramosan, whose face split in a wicked grin.

Along the seawall, a large group of Saprazzan officials gathered. Next to the vizier were Sisay, Hanna, and Orim. On a separate, lower platform stood Guard Commander Oustrathmer. All were stern faced as they stood watching a line of storm clouds slowly taking shape along the western horizon of the lemon sky.

There was a loud rumble of drums, and from out of a guardhouse came a file of soldiers. In their midst, bound with chains, was a thin, dark figure. His face was red with bruising, and a line of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. A scar stood out in scarlet against his pale face.

A guard at each elbow, he shuffled to a narrow, enclosed stone pit that stood on the outer section of the wall. The cover that normally sealed the pit had been placed to one side, and the crowd collected about the edges. As the prisoner reached the side of the well, a guard bent and fastened a large block of stone to his leg by a weighty chain.

The vizier turned to the assembly. "See, citizens of Saprazzo," she said in a clear voice, "that justice is done upon those who commit thievery and murder in our midst. This Mercadian has conspired to steal our Matrix. He has killed a guard in the commission of his act. For the loss of our national treasure, and for the death of this comrade, I am heartily sorry."

The tall figure of Oustrathmer stood watching the scene impassively. A close observer might have noticed that his webbed fingers twitched nervously.

The vizier looked at the Ramosan and said, "I have been satisfied of this man's guilt in the crime. Sentence against him is passed. Let him return to the sea from which we all came, and let the centuries wash his bones free of guilt."

She nodded to the guards. Two of them seized the heavy stone, while another propelled the prisoner to the edge of the well. His last despairing cry was cut off by a splash. Bubbles sparkled along the surface of the water.

The vizier spoke once more. "I understand this thief and murderer was a member of a secret organization that would overthrow legitimate government in Mercadia. This execution provides a clear message to such conspirators-Saprazzo will tolerate no subversive activity within its walls."

Orim looked on worriedly. A guard was busy securing the lid over the well. She turned to the vizier, who stood beside her, and whispered, "Do you think he's…"

The vizier smiled and spoke quietly. "He is fine. Trust me, Orim. We had our folk waiting below for him, and they will ensure that no harm comes to him. But Oustrathmer will send word that Lahaime of the Ramosans is dead and that Saprazzo is on the side of Mercadia. It will allow Lahaime and I both to operate without intense scrutiny." Her face grew grim. "More such false information will be borne by this spy, and we will use him to weaken the Mercadians. Once Oustrathmer's purpose is at an end, we will be certain he receives his due for betrayal. There will be no return to the sea for him."

She looked at Orim, and her face softened. "Now, let us talk with Cho-Manno. We must pool our strengths-the people of the waters-and end the evil that has gripped Mercadia."

The long quay leading out into nighttime waters bustled with activity. Wagon trains were drawn by sweating workers. Iron bands surrounded their upper arms, and cloths tied about their foreheads kept the sweat from their eyes. Their muscles bulged and strained as they hauled their loads over the flagstones toward a waiting vessel.

Accompanying the men were four figures, hooded and cloaked. They halted when a gigantic captain raised a hand before them. The captain walked slowly around them, stopping before a dark-skinned woman.

"Where to?"

"Mercadia. Our passage has already been paid." She brought out a piece of paper.

The captain took it, scowled at it, turned it around several times, and spat to one side on the slippery cobbles. "To Mercadia? Very well. But I have no cabin space left. You'll have to ride in steerage."

"Steerage!" a blonde-haired woman said indignantly. "But this paper guarantees us-"

The captain crumpled the paper, tossing it away. "That's what I think of that," he growled. "You paid only for passage to Rishada and Mercadia. You'll travel in the style available, and I tell you you'll journey to Rishada in steerage and no other way. Understand?"

A man with the tawny skin of a Cho-Arrim said, "Look me in the eye and tell me that."

The captain permitted himself a small chuckle. "All right." He stared intently into the man's eyes.

A quiet chant began on the Cho-Arrim's lips.

The captain pulled away, frightened. "What did you do?"

"Where did you say we were riding?"

Blinking in confusion, the captain said, "You can have my quarters. I was planning on sleeping with the crew."

With a sly smile, the Cho-Arrim man nodded. "That's what I had thought. Now, can you show us to our quarters?"

The captain nodded, at a loss for words. He led the four hooded figures along the quay and to one of the ships that bobbed in its moorings beneath a star-filled sky.