David Drake - Out of the waters

Alphena got in on the other side, facing Hedia and the route ahead. As soon as Alphena settled on the cushion, the Cappadocians braced themselves and rose.

Candidus called an order, but that was an officious waste of time. The bearers didn't pass visible signals to one another, but they nonetheless moved as though one head controlled all four of them.

The litter swayed as the Cappadocians fell into step. The motion wasn't unpleasant-the passengers could have read if they wanted to-but it did serve to separate those inside from the rest of the world.

Hedia drew the curtains on her end. They were black netting, woven fine enough that they caught much of the dust as well as blurring the features of those inside the vehicle. Alphena quickly pushed forward her curtains also.

She eyed her stepmother carefully. She had heard-nobody had told her, but the servants had been murmuring about nothing else all morning-that Hedia had had a bad night with all sorts of shouting and threats. There was no sign of that on her face or in her calm, clear gaze.

Alphena mentally rehearsed her words before saying, "Have you been thinking about the vision in the theater yesterday, mother?"

Hedia grinned with wry amusement. "Was that what gave me nightmares last night, dear?" she said. "Is that what you mean? No, monsters can destroy all the foreign cities they like without causing me to miss a wink of sleep."

Her eyes had drifted toward something outside the present. She focused again on Alphena and added, "Or distinguished older men can, if you like. I learned long ago, dear, that two women never see the same thing in any, well, man."

Alphena blushed, but the comment was kindly meant; and Hedia had been polite to her own clumsy prying. I should have just come out and asked. With Hedia-not with most people.

Before the younger woman could apologize, Hedia continued, "No, it was seeing the glass men again. Which I don't understand."

She turned her hands up in a gesture of amused disgust. "I could explain being frightened by dreadful monsters, couldn't I?" she said. "I'm sure people would be very understanding and say they feel sorry for me. Telling people I'm afraid of men would give a very different impression."

"Well, they're not really men," Alphena said.

Hedia's laughter caroled merrily. "Neither are eunuchs, dear," she said, "and I assure you that they don't frighten me. And they're not nearly as useless as you might think, the ones that were gelded after they reached manhood, at least."

The streets were noisy at this hour; they were noisy at most hours except in the heat of early afternoons in summer. The normal racket was doubled by the shouts and threats of the escort-and the curses of the pedestrians, peddlers, and loungers who felt they too had a right to the route that their ladyships wished to travel. Occasionally Alphena heard the smack of blows and answering yelps.

"Whatever they are," Alphena said, "the glass men, I mean, they must be terrible. I don't think I've ever seen you frightened before, mother."

Hedia chuckled. "You've seen me frightened many times, my dear," she said. "You've never seen me unable to do whatever was necessary, though; and you're not seeing that now."

She indicated her calm, disdainful face with one careless hand. "Don't mistake acting ability for my being too dimwitted to recognize danger," she said. "And you should learn to act too, dear. Even though I'm sure you'll live a life with less to conceal than I have, it's a skill every woman needs to acquire."

They were passing through the leatherworkers' district. The reek of uncured hides warred with the stench of the tanning process. Alphena's eyes watered, and even Hedia's face contorted in a sneeze.

"I'll try, mother," Alphena said, barely mouthing the words. She was afraid her voice would tremble if she spoke loudly enough for the older woman to hear.

She had faced demons, faced them and fought them. She had a sword that seemed to be able to cut anything and had certainly sent fire-demons to bubbling death.

She didn't know what they were facing now. That was the frightening thing. What use was the keenest, best-wielded sword if you had nothing to turn it on except the ghosts in your own mind?

"I suppose Pulto thinks that we're visiting his wife in order to buy charms," Hedia said. Her voice fell naturally into the rhythm of the Cappadocians' pace.

"Aren't we?" said Alphena. "That is, well, I thought we were too."

"If I believed that a sprig of parsley wrapped around a human finger bone would keep away those walking statues from my dreams," Hedia said tartly, "I'd be far less concerned than I am."

Her lips twisted into another smile. "I don't believe there's a charm to keep away distinguished older men with braided hair either," she said. "But as I told you, I'm not worried about them."

She's mocking me! Alphena thought. But that wasn't really true, and if it was true, it was good-natured. Hedia had risen from her bed screaming this morning. If she could smile and compliment and plan when she was under that much strain, then her stepdaughter could smile at a harmless joke and go on without snarling.

The litter continued pattering forward, but at a minutely quicker pace: the teams of bearers must have changed places. Alphena would not have noticed the difference had she not spent so much time studying swordsmen. Tiny patterns of movement indicated alertness and fatigue, victory and death.

"What do you want from Anna, then, mother?" she said aloud.

Hedia looked momentarily weary, though her cheeks quickly sprang back to their normal buoyant liveliness. "Advice, I suppose, dear," she said. Her smile was real, but not as bright as usual. "Or at any rate, someone besides one another to commiserate with. I…"

She paused, then wriggled her shoulders as if to shake away a locust that had landed on them. "Dear," she said with renewed confidence, "I want to discuss the matter with Anna because she's the closest thing to an expert whom we have available, even though I don't really believe she can help. If she says she can't help, when she says that, I'm afraid, then we go on to the next possible pathway to enlightenment."

Alphena opened her mouth to ask the question. Before she could voice the first syllable, the older woman continued, "We'll determine what that next possibility is when we reach that point."

"Your Ladyships, we are arriving!" Candidus cried. He sounded on the verge of collapse. Even though the Cappadocians had a heavy litter to carry, the pace they set through the streets had strained the deputy steward almost beyond his capacity.

The vehicle swayed gently to a halt. There was excited babble outside the curtains.

"Yes," said Alphena, trying to sound as assured as Hedia did by reflex. "We will determine that."

Hedia swept the curtains back but allowed the younger woman to get out of the litter before she herself did. She had been puzzled by the cheering, but it wasn't until she stood up that she could see past the wall of attendants surrounding the vehicle.

When she did, the slight smile that was her normal expression vanished. She wasn't angry, yet; but her mind had slipped into a familiar mode in which she decided how to deal with a problem-and absolutely any answer was acceptable if cold reason told her that it was the correct choice.

The apartment block in which Corylus and his household lived was the newest in the neighborhood and the tallest-at five stories-this far out the Argiletum. Anna-Corylus' nurse from the day he was born and his housekeeper here in Carce-was waving from a third-floor balcony. Arthritis made it difficult for her to navigate stairs; otherwise she doubtless would have greeted the litter on the street.

Scores of other people were waiting, however. At a guess, every tenant in the building who was home this morning stood outside, waving scarves or napkins and cheering, "Hail to their noble Ladyships Hedia and Alphena! Hail!"