Kushiel's Avatar (Phedre's Trilogy #3)

Kushiel's Avatar (Phedre's Trilogy #3) Page 91

"Some place for a temple!" Joscelin remarked after we had hoisted sail.

"Where else should it be?" Kaneka asked, logically enough. Look ing at my face, she grinned. "We will stop at Houba, little one, and visit the temple of Isis. You will like that better, I think."

So the days passed, one like unto the other, and the Greatest River glided between green banks and deep valleys. True to Kaneka's promise, I saw mighty temples and vast tombs along the route, a testament to the tremendous antiquity of this land. The river flowed stronger and our progress slowed, the feluccas needing to tack ever more often across the current, stitching our course upstream. With naught else to do, Kaneka set about teaching Joscelin and Imriel the rudiments of Jeb'ez, singing children's counting songs and the like. It made me smile, thinking how hard I'd fought to get her to allow me to learn. Betimes our felucca captain, whose name was Wali, would join in and their mingled voices would ring across the waters.

Wali, I must say, had developed a prodigious infatuation for Kaneka and thought her the most splendid creature he'd ever seen. Clearly, he regarded her as a person of great stature. Whether or not it had been true in her native village of Debeho, I cannot say, but it had been true in the zenana, and it was certainly true now. Clad in richly embroidered Akkadian robes, she might have been some visiting ambassadress.

It was a source of amusement for the other Jebeans, who watched Wali make cow's-eyes at her around the campfire and laid bets in zenyan as to whether or not Kaneka would acquiesce. Near the end of our journey, she did, laying a hand on Wali's shoulder and beckoning him to her tent. Trembling with disbelief at his fortune, a broad grin splitting his face, he followed her.

I was glad of it, though the noise of their love-making kept us up half the night. There is no privacy in a small campsite. From what I had observed, Wali was a good man—simple and kind, with an abiding pride in his felucca. Certainly he was well-made, with pleasant, open features and broad shoulders and arms corded with muscle from han dling the sails.

And Kaneka . . .

Kaneka was smiling in the morning, with the relaxed ease of a woman who has reclaimed ownership of her body's pleasure. I envied her that. There were jests that day, but they were good-natured and affectionate. When Wali sang a Jebean nursery-rhyme at the top of his lungs, everyone in both boats laughed and clapped, cheering him on ward.

"Phèdre?" Imriel sat beside me in the prow, dangling his legs over the edge.

"What? Imri, don't do that, a crocodile will bite off your feet."

He drew his legs in and hugged his knees, eyeing me gravely. "Why aren't you and Joscelin like . . ." he nodded at Kaneka and Wali, ". . . like that?"

"Ah, Imri." I smoothed the hair back from his brow. The terrible bruise on his temple was gone, though it had taken forever to fade, yellow traces lingering for weeks after the blow. "You know what I was, in Daršanga."

He nodded, not meeting my eyes. "The Mahrkagir's favorite."

"Death's Whore," I said wryly. "You can say it. You said it before.”

"I didn't know, then." His head came up, jaw set stubbornly, that look of House Courcel in his confrontational frown. "It was courage. I know that, now."

"It wasn't all courage." I made my voice gentle. "Imriel, some of the stories . . . some of the stories were true. I am an anguissette. Do you know what that means?"

He looked away and nodded again.

"There are places inside of us," I said, picking my words with care, "that are frightening, places no one should go. In Daršanga, I had to go to that place. And . . . Imri, it's hard to find one's way back. I'm trying. But it's not easy. Can you understand?"

"Yes." He swallowed and picked at the cloth of his breeches before looking up at me, his deep blue eyes brimming with pain. "Do you ever ... do you ever miss it there?"

Ah, Elua! Answering tears stung my own eyes. Not trusting my voice, I nodded. Yes, I missed it. I woke in the night sometimes from dreams of blood and iron, sick with desire.

"I don't," he whispered. "Only . . . sometimes, it was easier, I think."

"Yes," I said, stroking his hair. "I know. But this is better. And it will get better, Imri. For all of us. Elua willing, for Joscelin and me, too."

And I listened to Wali's lusty singing, to Kaneka's rich laughter, and willed myself to believe it was true.

SIXTY-SIX

HOUBA WAS the site of the last great temple of the Upper Nahar, a half-day's sail from the caravanserai of Majibara. It is perched on a lush, green island in the broad river, graceful palms waving over its narrow columns, tamarisk clustered thick about the foundations.We disembarked and joined a line of supplicants awaiting admission to the temple, which did a brisk trade. Outside, under the hot sun, Menekhetans and Jebeans alike mingled in respectful good spirits, sharing gossip and water-skins, glancing curiously at we D'Angelines which is something so common all of us were used to it, even Imriel.

Inside it was as cool and airy as a place could be during early summer on the Nahar. I gazed at the frescos on the high walls, following the goddess' quest to reunite the severed portions of her divine husband Osiris and restore him to eternal life.

At the far end of the temple stood the great effigy, winged arms outspread, her horn-crowned head lowered to her supplicants. I paid for an offering of incense and knelt before the altar, gazing up at the god dess as the blue smoke arose, reminded of Naamah, who had laid down with the King of Persis on Blessed Elua's behalf, of gentle Eisheth, the healer, to whom I had prayed too seldom.

I prayed to them both, now, and to Isis, in whose lands I travelled. Merciful goddess, I prayed, restorer of life, make me whole. Make us all whole.

Whether or not she heard and was minded to grant my prayer, I cannot say; I was a foreigner in her lands, and too far from my own. Nonetheless, my heart felt lighter when I left.

"You see?" Outside the temple, Kaneka smiled at me. "I told you you would like this better."

That night we made camp not far from the outskirts of Majibara.

Indeed, sounds of the city were carried on the night breezes—a skirling sound of pipes, a burst of uproarious laughter, faint and distant. To morrow, our numbers would dwindle further. Achara and Binudi, the two Nubians, would depart, continuing westward along the Nahar, while the rest of us would strike south for Meroë.

Safiya, who was a native of Meroë, told stories of her city's glory and that of its regent, Queen Zanadakhete, who ruled over all of Jebe- Barkal. Her honor guard, she told us, was two thousand men, none shorter than six feet tall, all clad in splendid embroidered capes and bearing swords and spears and shields made of the patterned hide of the camelopard, tough and light-weight. I was not sure I could credit such stories, but Kaneka assured us they were true.

Thus passed our last night upon the river.

I would be sorry to leave it. It was a pleasant mode of travel, aside from the crocodiles. Wali moped the whole of the way, clearly hoping Kaneka would change her mind and choose to stay with him. As for Wali, I think if he had not loved his boat so much, he might have gone with her, but no craft can navigate the cataracts of the Nahar, which are narrow and strewn with rocks, broken here and there by sharp precipices.

Majibara was vast indeed, a city of yellow sandstone made even larger by the number of caravans camped on its outskirts. We sailed into the city itself and took lodgings at what Wali swore was a reputable inn, hiring porters to bear our goods.

Menekhetans, Jebeans and Umaiyyati dominated, for there is trade overland from the Ahram Sea. Of a surety, there were no other D'Angelines—but nor did I see Caerdicci or Hellenes, or any of the more familiar nations.

And our journey was scarce begun.

What we would have done without Kaneka, I cannot say. She was a shrewd negotiator and wise in the ways of Jebean travel. One camel looks much like another to me. They are odd, ungainly creatures with great, furred humps upon their backs and lambent eyes, with lashes like a woman's. They can bear prodigious amounts of weight and go for many miles with neither food nor drink, traversing the desert sands on broad, splay-toed hooves.

They are also notoriously unpleasant and their shambling gait a torment, but that I learned later.

We spent the better part of a day arranging transport for Achara and Binudi, and that was accomplished in fine form, a train of donkey porters hired and the transaction registered with Majibara's Master of Caravans. The women were excited, which I was glad to see; I do not think, until then, they entirely believed they would be returning home. I prayed they would find the homecoming they deserved. If nothing else, they were laden with spoil, and greed may prevail where compas sion falters.

What stories they would tell their families, I never asked.

Our own arrangements took considerably longer. It would require a forced march of some seven days to regain the river. While this would cut a month or better from our route, it would be grueling. There was only one watering-hole along the route, and that of salt water so bitter only the camels could drink it. The rest, we must carry ourselves. To that end, where we had spent lightly in Iskandria, trusting in the route's rich provisions, we spent heavily in Majibara. Water-skins we bought in abundance, and two great casks to augment our supply; and sacks of sorghum for camel-fodder. For ourselves, we would carry a supply of dried meat cut in strips, dates and a crumbling white cheese made of goats' milk, none of it especially appetizing. Jebeans are great hunters, and where they cannot get fresh game, they make do with scant provision.

Other items as well we purchased: skinning knives, soap, butter, a pair of lanterns, an aromatic unguent reputed to keep lice at bay, satch els, woolen blankets, needles and thread, and bits of hide and thong for patching boots and tack. Joscelin, who'd regretted the lack on the river, bought a set of fishing hooks and sturdy line, which made me laugh, bound as we were for the desert.

We hired four guides and twelve camels, and I cannot count how many Kaneka interviewed before she found a company that suited her exacting requirements. The marketplaces of Majibara are difficult to endure, spread beneath the baking sun and stinking of camel dung. I was glad when it was done and Joscelin measured out five links of chain, prying them loose and paying them unto the guide-master under Kaneka's judicious eye.