Shadowplay

and her eyes filled with tears. “And now my brother and I must sleep in the alleyways by the harbor, and men...men try...” Soryaza’s brown face softened a little, but only a little. “Who was the high priestess when you were there? Tell me, girl, and quickly.”

“Rugan.”

“Ah, yes. I remember when she was merely a priestess, but she had a head on her shoulders.” She nodded. “Do the priests still come into the Hive every morning to collect the sacred honey?”

Qinnitan stared, surprised by such a strange, illogical question. Had things changed so much since this woman’s days as a priestess? Then she realized she was still being tested. “No, Mistress Soryaza,” she said carefully. “The priests never come in...except for a few Favored who tend the altar of Nushash, that is. No true men do. And the honey only goes to the priests twice a year.” The amount sent in the winter ceremony was slight, only enough taken from the jars covered with holy seals to symbolize the light of the magnificent, holy sun that would survive the cold months and return again. Then, in summer, the high priestess herself and her four Carriers always took the wagon filled with jars of sacred honey to the high priest of Nushash during the important ceremony of Queening, when the new hives were begun and the weariest of the old hives were sacrificed to the flames. The high priest took that honey and presented it to the autarch, or so it was told: Qinnitan and the other acolytes never saw any of the ceremonies that took place outside the Hive, even one so important as the delivery of the god’s honey.

“And the Oracle?”

“Mudri, Mistress. She spoke to me once.” But that was telling more than she needed to. Fortunately, Soryaza didn’t seem to notice.

“Ah, Mudri, was it? Hands of Surigali, she was there when I was a girl and she was old then.”

“They say she has outlived four autarchs.”

“The gods bless her and keep her, then. One autarch was enough for me, and now I hear there’s a new one who means even less good than his father.”

Qinnitan flinched at this casual blasphemy, so trained was she in the decorous and unthinking autarch-praise of the Seclusion. Still, she thought, I could tell her things about this autarch that would freeze her blood. She felt a small thrill of power even as the memories brought a rush of fear. She had survived—she, Qinnitan, had escaped. Had any other wife ever left the Seclusion except in a casket?

“Well, then, I believe your story, child,” Soryaza said. “I will find work for you. You can sleep with the other girls, those who live here—some stay nights with their families. But you will work, I promise you! Harder than you’ve ever done. The Hive is a dream of paradise compared to the palace laundries.”

“What about my...my brother?”

Soryaza regarded the boy sourly. He straightened up in an effort to look useful, even though from such a distance he could have no idea what was being discussed. “Is he clean? Does he have decent habits—or has he been allowed to run wild like most simpleminded children?”

“He’s not simpleminded, Mistress, just mute. In truth, he’s very clever, and he will work hard.”

“Hmmmph. We’ll see. I suppose I can find a few things for an able child to turn his hand to.”

“You are very kind, Mistress Soryaza. Thank you so much. We won’t give you any cause to regret...”

“I have regrets enough already,” the laundry-mistress said. “More if you don’t stop chattering. Go with Yazi —the one with the red arms, there. She’s a southerner, too. She’ll show you what to do.” She turned to leave, then stopped and looked Qinnitan over, a disconcertingly shrewd appraisal. “There’s more than you’re telling me, of course. I can hear from your way of speaking, though, that the part about the Hive is true. No poor girl gets a place there, and no poor girl ever spoke like you. You’ll have to learn to talk proper Hierosoline, though—you can’t get away with Xixian here, someone will knock your head in. They don’t care much for the autarch in this city.”

“I will, Mistress!”

“What’s your name?”

Qinnitan’s mouth fell open. With all the talk about the Hive, she had forgotten the false name she had chosen, and now it had vanished as though it had never existed. In a stretching instant that seemed hours, her mind flitted wildly from one woman’s name to another, her sisters Ashretan and Cheryazi, her friend Duny, even Arimone the autarch’s paramount wife, but then lighted on that of a girl who actually had left the Hive, an older acolyte whom Qinnitan had envied and admired.

“Nira!” she said. “Nira. My name is Nira.”

“Your name must be ‘addled,’ girl, if it takes you so long to remember. Go now, and I had better not catch you standing around with your mouth hanging open—everyone works here.”

“Thank you again, Mistress. You have done...”

But Soryaza had already turned her back on Qinnitan and was on her way across the steaming laundry floor, off to deal with whatever practical joke rude Fate would next set in her path.

Axamis Dorza, sensing something wrong when no one responded to his greeting, came through the door with surprising delicacy for a big man. The captain seemed to have some idea of the pantomime Vo had prepared for him, but though he was obviously a clearheaded fellow and not to be underestimated, his eyes still grew wide when he saw the blood on the floor. When he in turn observed Dorza’s heavily muscled arms, Vo took his blade back a few finger-widths from the boy’s throat: he didn’t want things happening too quickly. If he had to kill the boy he’d lose much of his leverage; if he had to kill Captain Dorza before he could be made to speak, the entire day’s careful work would be wasted.

“What are you doing?” Axamis Dorza said hoarsely. “What do you want?”

“A few words. Some friendly conversation.” Vo slowly moved the blade back until its needle-sharp tip touched the boy’s convulsing throat. “So let us all move slowly. If you tell me what I need to know I will not harm the boy. Your son?”

“Nikos...” Dorza waved weakly. “Let him go. You cannot want anything from him.”

“Ah, but I can and do. I want him beside me while you answer my questions.”

The captain’s eyes darted away from his captive child, scanning the rooms for other bandits. Daikonas Vo could all but hear the man’s thoughts: Surely so confident a criminal as this one must have confederates. There were no confederates, of course, which was how Vo liked it, but it also forced caution. Dorza was a head taller than him; if Vo hurt the boy the captain would be on him like a mad bear.

Vo wanted to head off the next problem too—anything to keep the man calm as long as possible. Any moment now he would notice the body crumpled on the floor just behind the door. Better simply to tell him.

“I have bad news for you, Captain Dorza. Your wife is dead. She caught me by surprise. I did not know she was in the house. She was a brave one, it must be said. She tried to kill me with that club—a belaying pin, I think you sailors call it? So I had to kill her. I am sorry. I did not wish to do it but it is done, and...ah, ah, careful...if you let anger get the best of you the boy will die, too.”

“Tedora...!” Dorza looked around frantically, at last saw the blood-soaked shape behind the door. “You...you demon!” he shouted at Vo. “Nushash burn you, I’ll send you to hell!”

His eyes, red with tears, widened again. “The other children...!”

“Are under the bed. They are safe.” Daikonas Vo prodded gently with his long blade at the boy’s gorge, eliciting a squeal of fear. “Now speak to me or this one dies, too. You carried a young woman on your ship. Some say she was Guard Captain Jeddin’s mistress. Where is she now?”

“I’ll break you...!”

“Where is she?” He pulled the boy’s chin back until it seemed the skin of his throat, downy with his first beard, might part without even the touch of the blade.

“I don’t know, curse you! She stayed here with us but I threw her out when I found out what she was!”

“Liar.” He pinked the boy just enough to make a drop of blood grow, wobble, then slide down into the neck of his shirt.

“It’s true! She came to me with a note from Jeddin, saying to bring her here to Hierosol where he would meet us. I did not know she was the autarch’s wife!”

“And you didn’t know Jeddin was a traitor? You are surprisingly ignorant for a veteran captain.”

“I didn’t know anything until we arrived here. She hid it from me. She came with orders to leave that evening—the very evening when...when Jeddin was arrested.”

“I do not think I like your answer. I think I will take one of the boy’s eyes out and then we will try