suitor, with enough wealth and beauty to dazzle her, would she even notice that her power over chaos was no more when she saw all the apparent luck around her?
True, it had been a while since he walked the earth in a human role, but there were precedents. It might be the easiest way to get back his power. Who knows what terrible things they had said to her about him? Better that he try honey and temptation to reach his goals rather than attempt to use force, which might only justify any misconceptions already given.
It sounded like logical reasoning, but he was biased again. He secretly wanted to punish Neila. She would choose him as her husband, but after he got what he wanted, he would desert her. He wanted to humble her, to make her feel as if she was winning and then show her the face of her defeat when she was a mere hair's breadth from the pinnacle. She dared to take the power of a senior djombi, then let her defend herself!
Remember what we mentioned to you before. This is a dangerous person. He enjoys lulling the prey into a feeling of safety before killing it. That instant of betrayal, that twist of perception when one realises that one's entire universe is founded on a lie—that is the moment that acts on his boredom as splendidly as champagne on a jaded palate.
9
a stranger is coming to makendha
Those who live in Makendha say that Ahani is the place where con men hold their conventions. They may be right—certainly it must have had some seedy flair to attract the regular attention of a djombi like the Trickster. Another claim made about Ahani is that a man can make something of himself there. That also had some grains of truth. Certainly it was not kind to women seeking their fortunes—not entirely baseless is the belief, widespread in Makendha and beyond, that women rule the villages but men rule the towns. As for making something of oneself, the question remains, what would that something be?
The indigo lord was going to Ahani to make an identity and a reputation for himself. Just because he considered them vermin didn't mean he lacked awareness of how humans operated. As individuals they were puny, but as hives their communication networks had power. There was no way he could impress in Makendha if no-one had ever heard of him in any of the larger cities.
He went to a stash of gold which he had put away—the legacy of an adventure in more innocent days. Perhaps I will tell you about it later, if we have the time. He had never expected to use it for himself, but that was the nature of chaos; its effects spanned time in ways that were not always immediately discernible, not even by beings outside of time.
He found a modest but highly reputable guest house in Ahani, one where his lack of goods would not be commented on. His first step was to hire a man of discretion. The way that he did this was to conduct the interviews in his usual shadow. Those who flinched at the strange colour of his skin, or whose eyes asked questions, did not pass. Finally, he selected a man by the name of Bini, whose calm eyes and unruffled demeanour spoke of vast pools of patience and a truly inhuman lack of curiosity. His only concerns were his duties and his pay, and once assured that the former were legal and the latter significant, he had nothing more to say.
Except one other thing.
'May I ask m'lord's name or title, so that I might know who has hired me and for whom I will be hiring?'
It was a fair request. The indigo lord had an answer waiting. ‘You may call me Taran.'
'Taran’ was not a common name. It meant ‘star’ in the local language. Bini merely nodded, taking the strangeness of the name and dropping it into the bottomless pit of his nonchalance.
Having secured his majordomo, Taran, as we may now call him, assigned to him all the hiring of the lesser servants and the acquisition of goods. Bini proved to be the same as all the rest, but when he returned with his first and only set of doctored receipts, Taran gave him a moment to feel comfortable and then struck him down with the truth, that truly formidable axe against which little can stand. Bini deserved credit; rather than bluster or try to cover up his gaffe, he said quietly that the receipts appeared to be misleading and he would return in a while with the correct figures. After that, there was no more trouble with Bini, though Taran kept a changing guard of insects near him—a beetle one day, an ant the next—just to be sure.
Taran showed his face once to Bini during the interview; after that he covered himself entirely, robes, gloves, boots, and veiled headdress with only his eyes glinting beyond a rectangle of mesh. He looked like a desert prince travelling incognito. He offered no explanation for his sudden change in garb. As a human, Bini would come up with his own speculations. When again, as Bini he would probably not care.
I myself have wondered why Taran did not simply change his shadow to blend into his environment. I suspect—and this is subject to correction—that such large-scale changes to one's own shadow were performed infrequently. It may be that the act of shadowcrafting not only requires great effort, but also creates a ripple that can be sensed by like beings. For all his pride, Taran was not above using stealth in order to gain the advantage. Or maybe it was indeed pride that made him cover himself so that he would not be soiled by human touch, not even by their eyes resting on his features. I do not know.
The underlings hired by Bini did speculate. He overheard one declaring that he was probably hiding ghastly scars from a severe burning, and another guessing that the mark of pestilence was what caused him to hide his skin. The most inventive hypothesis thus far was that he was terribly sensitive to heat and light due to albinism, which would also explain the strange purplish hue of his eyes that could be detected even through the mesh.
Taran had not forgotten his plan. He ensured that his clothes were tailored to fit him well so that all could see that his shadow was healthy, excellently proportioned, and lacking in deformation of any kind. He correctly assumed that his wealth would provide sufficient attraction to counter the unseen but imagined flaws. Beautiful women like Neila are not interested in competitors. Without a doubt she would prefer a man with the means to display her beauty to its best advantage over a man whose beauty rivalled hers.
When all was made ready and his staff and stores fully equipped, Taran made one more request of Bini. Before their departure, he wished to hire a poet. This was in keeping with the strange scruples of his fallen state. Like all his kind, he was incapable of lying, but he had too much pride remaining to twist truth in the manner of tricksters. Hiring a man to lie for him was the perfect compromise. Besides, for poets it wasn't lying, it was art.
Back in Makendha, Paama was adjusting to the fact that little Giana was not what she seemed. She saw her often, at least once a day, when fetching water or tending to the animals or washing clothes. Otherwise they met in the kitchen, but there they had to be careful of Neila and Tasi stumbling in on a strange conversation filled with strange words. In spite of that, it seemed to be Giana's favourite place??r perhaps she was merely enjoying the sweet tooth of childhood amid Paama's pastries and sweets.
'Why should it come to me?’ had been Paama's first real question, the question that signalled her acceptance that this was not a dream or a joke. ‘This is a powerful thing, the way you describe it. Why should any human being have such power?'
'I do not know,’ Giana replied softly, as if ashamed to admit it. ‘I only know that I was told to give it to you, and that once you had it, you began to use it as if it were a lost part of yourself. There may be a reason, but it is beyond my knowledge.'
Paama looked at her, itching to ask more questions, but these were the ones she dared not have answered, so she wisely did not ask them.
'What am I supposed to do with it?’ she asked instead.
'For now? Learn it, understand it so that it becomes more than instinct. A stranger is coming to Makendha, Paama. He is nearby, making his preparations. I have already seen his spies. You must be strong against him, for he wants to take back the power that was once his.'
'Then why did you waste time teaching me to spin five hundred different configurations of sugar spirals?’ Paama scolded her, alarmed at this news. ‘You should have been showing me how to fight him!'
