some extra time.
Rushes yawned and ran after her. “Nobody I knew ever died before. I want to know about Demah, where she went.”
“I told you. Herzu ate her. He devours the weak.”
“Where will I go?”
Mina fell silent a moment, eyes on her moving slippers, as if debating her answer. Finally she said, “That depends upon your god.”
Rushes did not have a god. She never went to temple or made any sacrifices. She had nothing to sacrifice, in any case, but perhaps one of them would appreciate her prayers. Perhaps one of them would accept her spirit. She went through the gods in her mind: Keleb and Pomegra, scholarly and stern; Mirra, motherly and kind; Ghesh, wild and chaotic. “I suppose Mirra.”
“Then you will grow into the plants and trees and forget yourself, unless…”
“Unless what?” Was there a way to serve Mirra better? She remembered what Sahree had told her: This is Mirra’s work, and it has to be us women who do it. The stone. Would Mirra favour her for the stone?
They entered the Little Kitchen. The barest promise of light shone through the window-screen, and with it Rushes could make out lumps of dough on the table, left to rise when Hagga went to the funeral.
Mina pushed her into a dark corner before whispering her answer. “There is another god, one who has no temple here. But He is kind and forgiving, and gives you a life beyond this one, just like in the pattern. Some of us slaves-”
“What are you doing, kissing? Get to work!” Gorgen had followed them through the door. Now he grabbed the belt around his waist and wiggled it, threatening to take it off and use it as a whip. But then he turned away and walked down the steps to the Big Kitchen. Slaves worked there all night long, and there was always tea on the fire. Once he was out of earshot Mina grabbed Rushes’ arm and leaned in again.
“Some of us meet in the root cellar at night. Mylo the delivery boy, he goes out into the city and meets the priests. Then he brings their Stories to us.”
“What priests? Who?”
“You’ll see,” said Mina. Then she followed Gorgen down into the Big Kitchen.
Rushes shoveled coal into the fireplace. There were a few gods in the pantheon who did not have a temple in the palace. Meksha, of course, the goddess of fire, kept hers deep in a distant mountain, and Ghesh had no temple at all; but she could not think of one that fit the words kind or forgiving. That was the sort of god most people would find weak, but it made her feel warm even before she set flame to the fuel. Beyon was gone and could not forgive her for rejoicing over his death, but perhaps Mina’s god could. Rushes sat before the glowing coals and listened for Mina’s return. After a minute Hagga came in and picked up her dough as if she had never left it. Voices and the smell of roasting meat rose up from the Big Kitchen.
At last Mina came up the steps carrying a pot of greens. She placed in on the hearth to keep it warm and looked down at Rushes. “Will you go?”
Rushes gave a little nod, and Mina smiled. “Good.”
Slaves from the lower floors, male, female, young, old, gathered on barrels filled with pomegranates and pickled lemons, on clay pots filled with honeycombs and on the dirt floor. Rushes looked around and counted three dozen, at least, who had come to hear the stories of the new god. They held candles close to their lips, ready to be extinguished, and everyone kept quiet, their voices no louder than murmurs. Discovery meant punishment. Being out of quarters at this hour, and in the storage area, opened the slaves to accusations of theft and worse. Already a boy she did not recognize had eaten halfway around one of the best winter apples, set aside for the empress or the empire mother. Where would he hide the core, she wondered.
The silence deepened, and all heads turned towards a tall, copper-eyed man standing below the drying rack. He was handsome and young, with skin the colour of tea. When he smiled, a rush of gladness went around the room. Rushes thought the new priests could not have picked a better messenger than Mylo. His voice came soft and friendly when he spoke, humble but confident. “Welcome, everyone. Today I learned a new story. I learned the story of the living god and the servants of the fruit seller.”
Mylo told the story of a god who asked for shelter at the home of a wealthy merchant. The servants there were ill-treated, and once realising He was a god, begged Him to help. The god told them that he would leave in the morning, and that anybody who chose to leave with Him would be free from harm. But in the morning, He also invited the merchant to leave. The merchant refused, for his house was beautiful and he had many comforts; so before the god left, He struck the man blind and dumb.
Afterwards, Mina nodded and said to herself, “A wise tale.” Others seemed to agree, frowning and thinking very hard about the story and its meaning. Rushes kicked her feet against the crate she sat upon and waited. The story did not feel finished to her.
“Here is someone new.” All of a sudden Mylo stood over her, smiling down, and Rushes leaned back. She liked to look at him, but only when he was standing far away.
“This is Rushes. She’s from the Little Kitchen,” said Mina. “How did you like our story, Rushes?”
“Well…” Rushes looked at Mina, who nodded, brown eyes kind. “When the servants followed the god, where did he lead them?”
“Into the light, Rushes.”
“Where is that?”
“The light,” said Mina. “Knowledge. Wisdom.”
Rushes looked down at her slippers. They were grubby from the cellar floor, and now she would have to stay up late to clean them. “I’m sorry I didn“ t understand.”
Mylo put a hand on her arm, smooth and soft for a delivery boy. “Don’t be sorry,” he said. “I am a poor teacher. But the austere has arrived and he will lead us to greatness. When you come back, you’ll see.”
Rushes didn’t know if she would come again. She was frightened; every time she heard a noise she thought it was Gorgen, or Back-door Arvind, coming to discover them. She was certain they were not allowed to meet like this, in secret, after most of the lanterns had been put dark for the night. She wondered if this was the sort of thing Empire Mother Nessaket might want to hear about, but she could not imagine that it was. These were not nobles, viziers, or generals.
Mina took her hand and they readied to leave, but Mylo stopped them, an easy smile on his face. “Rushes,” he said, “Are you a merchant, or a servant? The first time a person comes, they get to choose.”
“I’m a servant, of course,” she said.
“Well, yes, you serve the silk-clad, but that’s not what I meant. A merchant needs to be forgiven, while the servants are innocent.”
Rushes frowned, thinking of Gorgen. “How do you know? The servants could be all sorts.” This brought a laugh from Mylo. He made a little bow, his dark hair falling forward over his face.
“Blessings. I hope you do come again before the end.”
Not sure of his meaning she did a little curtsey and hurried up the stairs behind Mina. Her stomach churned at the top, wondering if Arvind or another guard might be waiting in the shadows, but nobody was there. Her slippers needed a cleaning. When Mina turned towards her quarters Rushes ran down an empty corridor and through the Big Kitchen, ignoring the angry shouts of the night boss, and up the stairs to the little one. There she crashed into a wall of a man, dressed in silk, standing before the dying fire.
“You piece of stinking dung!” She heard the crack of his hand against her cheek, sensed her feet stumbling backwards from the power of the blow, before she felt it. She crashed into a storage cabinet, clay pots overturning, air thick with the scent of star anise and cardamom as they spilled from their containers. She slipped to the floor, stunned and dizzy, while the man came at her again, feet sharp and angry against her thigh and hip. Why? The Many had never hurt one another like this.
“Herzu’s balls, Zell! She’s just a girl.” Another man pulled the first away, hands firm along the silk of his arms. “You have had far too much to drink.”
Zell slipped from his grasp and struck out at her again, his slippered foot connecting with her stomach. She curled around the blow, the pain too intense to release as a scream. “I came for some bread and there was nobody here! It’s intolerable.”
“She’s here now, if you don’t kill her,” said the other man in soothing tones. “Come on, girl, get up and get us some bread.”
