Liavek 5 Read online

  T'Nar groaned again. She looked at him, feeling nothing so much as annoyance. He was a messy detail to be tidied up before she could have any time for herself. More than that? she asked herself. She groped after warm childhood memories that had gone still and lifeless. No. Just an irritating old man, one more loose thread to tie up.

  She went to him, slipped an arm behind his shoulders, and heaved him up to a sitting position. His eyes opened, squinted at her. "He's gone," he noticed. Then, "My poor little Kaloo," he said thickly.

  His pity disgusted her. He should keep it for himself. "You have to get up," she told him. "We have to get you back to the Mug and Anchor."

  "Yes. Yes, you're right." He heaved himself to his feet, leaning on her. Kaloo staggered sideways under his weight, nearly slipped on something on the floor. She glanced down, expecting the rubbery wilted peel of a potato.

  An ear. Dashif's.

  She stared down at it, fascinated. She couldn't lift her eyes from it. She almost wanted to laugh at so ridiculous a thing. She felt T'Nar give her a gentle shake. "Come, girl. Don't be so downcast. I never meant for you to find it out this way. I always thought I'd find a time, a place…But it doesn't matter, now does it? The only way it can make a difference is if we let it. Right? And we won't. You'll always be my own little Kookaloo. Now let's go home."

  She scarcely heard him. He leaned against her, propelling her toward the door. She stepped over the ear and went. She didn't think she'd ever come back here. She'd made too many mistakes here, and she suddenly could count them all. Trusting L'Fertti, that old phoney. Letting Dashif learn not only her luck time, but the item that housed her invested luck. Staying for T'Nar to wake up. The time for mistakes was over. She'd need a proper teacher, and she knew that now. And a place of her own, a place to be alone and to think. She found herself evaluating her possessions. Did she have anything she could sell for a month's rent?

  What was the old man babbling? "…better once we're home. And we needn't tell Daril, need we? I mean, the two of us used to keep secrets all the time, didn't we? And this one would just hurt her, wouldn't do anyone any good at all. We'll say Dashif thought you were someone else, someone he knew…"

  Kaloo let him mutter on, let the words flow past her. As well, she thought, to say that you thought I was someone else. Someone you knew…

  •

  He found his way to the door, the world still crisp and sharp. The scars on his face hurt. His left foot itched. His head throbbed, and blocked out all sound. He discovered that he was on the street, and that he had somehow found a footcab. He saw himself paying the cabman, and almost heard himself as he asked for the Levar's Palace. He forced himself to concentrate on what the cabman was saying over the roaring in his head.

  "…too much, my lord."

  He forced a reply from a thickened tongue. "I may be unconscious when we arrive. See that I am carried into the east door, where they will treat me. Leave your name, and I will give you a purse of gold when I am well."

  The cabman's eyes grew wide, and he nodded.

  The jolting of the ride hurt even more for a while, but then he became numb. The back of the cabman's head swirled, and became Erina's face, and she was saying good-bye. Then it swirled, only a little, and it was Kaloo who stared out at him, somber and cold. Dashif knew the path she had set out on. But he also knew that, at last, he had paid his debt to Erina.

  He was smiling when unconsciousness finally overcame him.

  "The World in the Rock" by Kara Dalkey

  RAIN SPATTERED LIGHTLY on the window awnings, its patter barely audible inside the Tiger's Eye. Aritoli ola Silba glanced at the elegant gewgaws on display, pretending to himself that he was seriously in the market for a new luck piece. In actuality, he only sought a respite from a dreary day.

  The week before had been disastrous to his feelings of self worth. A poor but promising artist from Hrothvek had come to the city at Aritoli's assurance that a good commission awaited him. Then the noble offering the job reneged, and the artist had to return home with only Aritoli's apologies and levars as consolation. A message had arrived from Aritoli's sister at Silversea, urgently requesting his presence and advice on a matter of property negotiations. Aritoli had dismissed it with a curt reply, saying that if it was an offer to buy it was doubtless fraudulent, and a request to sell he would not deign to consider. It turned out to have been a discussion of the proposed rail line from Saltigos to Liavek (the delicacy of the politics involved had prevented her from telling him this), and she had been obliged to handle her side of the discussion from an impossible position. And the last lover he had hoped to please—Aritoli closed his mind against that embarrassing memory.

  All considered, Aritoli felt quite useless and downhearted. His optimism now only reached as far as the half-hope of gazing upon the lovely, if formidable, features of the Tiger's Eye's proprietor. However, on this day, as his luck would have it, the shop was tended instead by her equally formidable young apprentice, Thyan. And Thyan was not forthcoming as to when her mistress would return.

  So Aritoli lingered, looking over a set of enormous, bejeweled belt buckles. Before long, he was startled out of his musings by the chimes from the front of the store.

  Aritoli looked up expectantly, but instead of Snake there entered a small, bedraggled figure. It was a girl no more than twelve years old, wet and muddy from the rain, and in her arms she carried a heavy object that was about the size of a goat's head. Aritoli watched as the child lugged the object down the central aisle of the shop to place it with a thunk upon the polished wood countertop before the appalled Thyan.

  "What are you doing? I just dusted that—"

  "Want to sell," said the little girl. She had an accent that Aritoli identified as Zhir. "How much for rock?"

  Thyan picked clods of mud off the object. Curious, Aritoli approached to see what she would uncover. But after much picking and wiping, it proved to be only a rock. In fact, it was the ugliest lump of stone Aritoli had ever seen.

  "We can't give you anything for this!" said Thyan. "It's just a rock!"

  "But it's precious!" protested the girl. 'The world is in the rock!"

  "Huh," Thyan scoffed. She gave the girl a measuring look, then slowly took two copper coins from under the counter and slid them across to the girl. "Here. But from now on, do your begging outside."

  Aritoli felt an odd, sudden urge toward philanthropy—as if whatever gods were watching had suggested, "Here is a chance to redeem yourself."

  "One moment," said Aritoli, walking up to the counter. "My dear," he said to the girl, "if this rock means so much to you, are you sure you ought to be selling it?"

  The girl frowned very seriously, as if considering a new and somewhat disturbing possibility. "Need coins," she said at last. "Had no more coins and am hungry."

  Looking her over, Aritoli noticed that her short tunic, though worn and muddy, was well made. And the dirt on her skin was not the deep grime acquired through years of life on the streets.

  "Ke jwazlas ti?" he asked the girl in Zhir. "What is your name? Jwalengi Aritoli."

  "Tay-li."

  "I am pleased to meet you, Tay-li. Where did you come from?"

  "From house of iv Ning. But he send me away. Can no longer keep me."

  "I've heard of him," Thyan said. "There were rumors that he got on the wrong side of a good wizard who enchanted him to make bad financial decisions. Last I heard, iv Ning was losing a fortune importing fish."

  Aritoli gave a low whistle. "That was some enchanted iv Ning. So now he can no longer support servants, eh? What sort of work did you do for him, Tay-li?"

  The girl shrugged. "Cleaning, errands, sort of thing."

  "Well, Tay-li, perhaps today is your luck day. I happen to know of an establishment or two that could use a clever girl, and they would pay you more coins and meals than your precious rock could fetch. Come along with me and I'll see what we can do."

  Thyan shot Aritoli an evil glare.

>   "Oh, come now," Aritoli snapped, "my tastes may be varied, but I've no interest in cradle-snatching. I suggest you remove your mind from the gutter before the rain washes it away." Aritoli gently took Tay-li's arm.

  But she shook herself free and reverently picked up the ugly stone. Hugging it to herself, she said, "Now I will go."

  Outside, the rain had become a misty drizzle that clung to their clothing. Aritoli said, "May I carry that for you, Tay-li? It must be very heavy."

  But Tay-li shook her head. "Not heavy. The world is in the rock."

  Aritoli smiled awkwardly. "What do you mean by that? 'The world is in the rock'?"

  "When you look at it, you will see."

  As they walked down Cat Street, Aritoli wondered. Tay-li was far too young to have invested her luck yet, so it was unlikely that the rock was a vessel of magic. Could it be that the stone was all that was left of her "world"? All that was familiar to her? Aritoli turned his mind from such sad thoughts to the task of considering where he might find employment for her.

  Before long, they arrived at Aritoli's townhome on Temple Way, where Tay-li was delivered into the capable hands of Aritoli's elderly manservant, Maljun.

  "Please draw a bath for her, and see if you can find her something cleaner to wear."

  Maljun looked with concern at the Zhir girl. "Suitable for…evening attire, master?"

  Aritoli scowled back. "Suitable for an employment interview, if you please."

  "Very good, sir." Maljun sketched what seemed to be a relieved bow. Gently, he coaxed Tay-li into relinquishing her rock, which he placed upon a table in Aritoli's study before leading her away.

  Aritoli, meanwhile, sat at his desk and composed a short note that he gave to Maljun to deliver. That accomplished, he inexplicably found his attention drawn again to the rock.

  He sat on the floor next to the table and studied the stone. It was a chaotic conglomeration of pebbles and granite and odd-colored veins, smooth in some places, rough in others. "A lapidarist's nightmare," Aritoli murmured, shaking his head.

  "You like rock?" said Tay-li from the doorway.

  Aritoli looked up. She stood fresh-scrubbed and smiling, wearing a cotton tunic of Aritoli's that had shrunk, tied with a woven belt. Except for the fact that she wore no sandals, she could be any well-to-do merchant's daughter.

  "The rock? It's, er, very pretty, Tay-li."

  "You see?" she said with a smile like bright sunshine. She walked up to the rock and knelt beside it. "You see the world?"

  "The world? Well, not exactly, though there seem to be many kinds of stone represented here."

  "Not just stones! Look!" She tumbled the stone this way and that, peering at it intently. Then she stopped and her little fingers traced a jagged gray ridge. "Here are Silverspine Mountains." She searched more and ran her fingers along a narrow ribbon of mica. "Here is Cat River." She rolled the rock over and touched a group of bumpy pebbles. "Here is camel." She pointed at an area of bluish rock with black specks. "Here are Kil in Sea of Luck." Again and again her nimble hands turned the rock over and touched on different shapes that Tay-li identified as places, animals, people, and so on.

  Aritoli found himself caught up in her game. "Look, Tay-li, here is a dog's head," he said, pointing at a particular bump.

  Tay-li studied the feature very seriously. "No. Is horse."

  "As you say." Aritoli smiled gently. "But this is a pine branch, don't you think?" He pointed at a group of tiny green crystals.

  "Yes! And here is cone that fell from branch!" Tay-li caressed a little brown lump beside the crystals.

  "And here is a tea flower and leaf," said Aritoli.

  "And there is cup that tea will be drunk from!"

  They laughed together. The more Aritoli looked for things to point out to Tay-li, the more he saw. There seemed to be endless variation, and often a particular feature was part of different discoveries. Aritoli felt strangely pleased at each new thing he found, and Tay-li was enjoying herself immensely. "You see! You see!" she would say, and clap her hands with glee.

  Aritoli did not know how much time was spent in this happy pastime, but it seemed too soon when Maljun entered the study and said, "Mistress Pashantu from the House of Orange Blossoms has arrived, master."

  "What? Oh, yes, Maljun, show her in." Aritoli leaned toward Tay-li. "This woman may have a job to offer you."

  Maljun admitted a plump young woman wearing a many-layered dress of bright colors. "Ari, dear! How good to see you!" she said. "It has been too long since you graced the doorstep of our House." She gave an exaggerated bow in the Tichenese manner.

  "Indeed it has. Welcome, dear Pashantu. May I introduce the prospective employee I mentioned? This is Tay-li, of the now-dispersed household of iv Ning. Tay-li, may I present Mistress Pashantu."

  Tay-li gave a little bow and smiled shyly.

  Pashantu bustled over to the girl and took her hands, holding her arms out straight. "Ah, is this the girl? My, what a healthy-looking one you are, Tay-li. I understand you've done cleaning work?"

  Tay-li nodded.

  "Have you ever worked in a kitchen?"

  "Some."

  "Bezwani fa Ka Zhir?"

  "Wiya! Kolojali se sanaa jedu—"

  "That's enough, dear, my Zhir is rusty. What languages do you read?"

  Tay-li shrugged. "Zhir. Some 'Vekan."

  "Well. Tay-li, here is what we can offer. The work is hard…for there is much linen and clothing to be cleaned, and many rooms to be washed and tidied. But we will feed and house you. And we will give you lessons in languages, geography, music, and etiquette. Then, in a few years, if you choose, you may join the older children in their work and take lessons in finance, political science, and, um, entertainment. But if you decide not to stay with us, we will find you a good position wherever you wish in Liavek. Does this sound acceptable to you, Tay-li?"

  The girl was silent for a few moments. Then she looked up and smiled. "Wiya. Accept."

  "Well, good! We'll be happy to have you with us. Come along and I'll take you to your new home."

  "I'll walk you to the gate," Aritoli said, standing up. He felt a little sad to see Tay-li go.

  Outside, the rain clouds were breaking apart and bright rays of sunlight streamed through. The air smelled fresh and Aritoli felt as though he were experiencing the wind and the sunlight for the first time.

  He bent down and took Tay-li's hand. "Please feel free to visit me when you like. I've greatly enjoyed meeting you and seeing your rock…your rock! Wait a moment!"

  Aritoli ran back into the study. Scooping the rock under his arm, Aritoli returned to Tay-li and held it out to her. "We almost forgot your precious rock, Tay-li."

  Tay-li smiled and shook her head. "No. You keep. Is just a rock."

  "But…but the world is in this rock. You showed me!"

  "Yes! You see! You keep rock. I find another. Bye-bye."

  As Tay-li and Pashantu walked away. Aritoli looked after them in confusion. Then realization came. He looked down at the stone in his arms and for a moment it was again just an ugly, lumpy mass. Then he saw once more the face of the dog/horse and Aritoli knew everything they had found together was still there.

  Aritoli chuckled and walked into his forecourt garden, where he unceremoniously dropped the rock in a space of cleared ground.

  "A new addition to the garden, master?" Maljun asked behind him.

  Aritoli stood back and regarded the rock a moment. "It rather resembles a sand-skimmer on the Great Desert, don't you think?"

  "Eh?"

  "Or, perhaps, a collection of dawn spooks rising from a Hrothvekan swamp. No doubt tomorrow it will resemble something entirely different." He looked back at Maljun, who wore an expression of patient bewilderment.

  Aritoli laughed. "No, my dear fellow, my mind hasn't cracked completely. Just enough to let a little light in. Now tell me what delicious dishes you've prepared for supper."

  "Baker's Dozen" by Bradley Denton
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br />   MARDIS GLANCED QUICKLY around the Happy Swine's dingy public room as she and Karel entered, and was relieved to see that the only other customer was a drunk sleeping off last night's binge at a table by the hearth. Maybe this celebration wouldn't be as bad as last year's.

  They were just sitting down when a horrendous crashing-and-splashing noise blasted from the kitchen doorway, followed immediately by a masculine bellow.

  "Noooooo!" the voice cried. "Twelve months of tradition ruined!"

  "It's your own fault!" a woman answered shrilly. "If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times—never put a live pig into the pot-boil!"

  An argument commenced, punctuated by the occasional clatter of a thrown saucepan and the squeals of the pig.

  Mardis hesitated, hovering in a half-crouch over her chair. "Maybe we should go somewhere else this year," she said, and winced as the pig shot out of the kitchen and escaped through the main entrance.

  Karel gave her a wry smile as the Happy Swine's burly, broth-spattered owner stumbled past their table in pursuit of the pig. "Wouldn't be a good idea, Mardie," he said when the innkeeper was gone. "This is the only place in all of Liavek where we can have your birthday breakfast without anyone noticing the chaos. Just don't order the pot-boil."

  Mardis sighed and poured herself a mug of lukewarm kaf from a ceramic pot that had apparently been on the table for a few days already. The stuff tasted awful, but at least its smell overpowered some of the inn's other odors.

  Karel and his damned "birthday breakfast" tradition. It was bad enough that she had to endure a birthday, let alone in public. She was eighteen today. If the trend of the previous seventeen disasters continued, this year's birth hours would be the worst ever.

  Not that her luck had always resulted in calamity. Without it, she might never have met Karel.

  "After all," he had said once, his grin a white gleam under his broad nose, "it's not every day that I ogle a pretty girl and have the sack of flour I'm carrying explode in my face."

  Mardis smiled at the memory, which was almost enough to make her forget the taste of the stale kaf. She had stopped to help Karel up from the street, and then had gone home with him to verify to his parents that the loss of the flour had been unavoidable…without, of course, actually telling them that she was responsible.