16
YAQOB put his arm around me, and pulled me into his body. I relaxed against him, relishing his closeness and warmth. It had been too long…
Boaz had not called me back for over a week, and I thought he’d been so disturbed by what he had revealed of himself that I might never be called back again. Well, perhaps I would not mind overmuch. Yaqob’s touch was good, and for the first time in weeks I allowed myself to dream a little. When we finally won our freedom we could have all the time we needed together; his mouth brushed my hair, and I reminded myself of how much I loved him. I could not wait to be his wife in freedom.
We were in the upper room of Isphet’s workshop. Zeldon had hurried in from a visit to one of the neighbouring workshops, and had asked Isphet and Yaqob to join us in our caging room. Now Isphet sat at the table with Orteas and Zeldon, while Yaqob and I relaxed on a bench set against the wall.
“A new boatload of slaves arrived two nights ago,” Zeldon said, and Isphet shrugged.
“New slaves arrive all the time.”
“But on this boat were four glassworkers. Four men who are skilled in the art of caging.”
All of us sat forward, and I felt Yaqob’s hand tighten about my shoulder.
“Are they…?” He hesitated to put the danger into words.
“Elementals?” Zeldon had no such compunction. “No. They are not.”
“Have you seen their work?” Isphet asked. How could men who were not Elementals cage with any degree of skill?
“Yes. After collecting the potash from Izzali, he mentioned the new workers, and took me to meet them. They already had yesterday’s work spread before them, and I inspected it. It is well formed, but it has no life. The glass does not sing like that made by Elementals.”
He paused, and looked at me. “It was caged glass meant for the Infinity Chamber. Izzali’s shop has also been firing the golden glass. Boaz is spreading the work about.”
“Spreading about both work and those who can cage,” Isphet said. Her professional pride had been wounded that another workshop had also been given the task of firing the golden glass. “Why?”
I wet my lips. I should have said something about this earlier, but there had been no time, and both Yaqob and Isphet had kept their distance.
“He does not trust this workshop,” I said. “He suspects us in the attempt to kill him. I think that if he becomes certain he will have us killed. But, until now, he could not afford to. This workshop was too important.”
“How long have you known this?” Yaqob snapped, and I felt the tension in his body. “You have not been to Boaz’s quarters in a week!”
“He told me this the last night I was there, Yaqob. I’m sorry. I should have said…but there was no time…and I have hardly seen you…”
Yaqob looked to Isphet, then they both exchanged glances with Zeldon and Orteas.
“Tirzah,” Yaqob said very gently, “Isphet tells me you are keeping secrets. She says that she can almost smell them about you.”
“I…”
“Secrets, Tirzah,” he continued. His hand stroked my arm, but it did not comfort me. “And yet you tell us nothing of what goes on in Boaz’s quarters. Until a week ago you spent many nights with him, longer than Raguel ever did with Ta’uz, and we wonder why. Now we find out that Boaz clearly suspects us –”
“You knew that already,” I said. “Why else would he visit this workshop and warn us about practising the Elemental arts?”
“But we did not know he realised that the falling glass was no accident but an attempt on his life, and connected it with this workshop,” Yaqob said angrily. “Does he suspect a planned revolt? Have you told him the details?”
“Yaqob!” I pulled away from him, tears in my eyes.
“Some women are indiscreet in a man’s bed,” he said. “Are you one of them?”
I stared at him. I remembered how the Magus had wrapped me in his arms, had stroked me and kissed me, and had almost beguiled me into betraying not only myself, but all those within this room. Perhaps I was weak.
“No,” I whispered. “Yaqob, how could you ask that? You were the one who insisted I went to his bed. How can you suspect me?”
“Then tell us what you do for so many hours and nights with the Magus,” Isphet said. “Tell us!”
Should I tell them that he teaches me to write, and kisses me with tenderness?
No, how could I? “He uses me –”
“For eight or nine hours, Tirzah?” Isphet said. “No Magus needs that long to commune with the One.”
“And sometimes he requires me to sit in silence. On a stool, as Ta’uz required of Raguel. And,” this at least I could tell them, “he tries to tell me something of the way of the One.”
They accepted that, and Isphet even smiled grimly, remembering.
“He begins to relax about me, now. The last time I was with him he said something that might be useful.”
“And now she thinks to tell us,” Yaqob said, but his tone was mild.
I told them of the incomposite numbers, and of their peculiarly strong relationship with the One. “They are, he said, different expressions of the One.”
“And they stretch into Infinity,” Yaqob muttered. Everyone was appalled. Seven would die, then eleven, then…
“He has also mentioned a Vale, but I do not know what that means.” Something curled and died within me at such a blatant lie. But I could not say that I had read the inscriptions on the Infinity Chamber. If I confessed that, then I would have to confess I could write as well as read, and then they would wonder just how far I’d fallen under the power of the One.
And Yaqob would never hold me so close again. Damn you, Magus Boaz, I thought, damn you for your manipulations!
The three men shook their heads, but Isphet frowned.
“Isphet?” Yaqob said. “What do you know?”
“I have heard of the Vale only briefly, when I was a child,” she said slowly. “The elders within our community in the hills – the Graces – are so steeped in the understanding of the Soulenai I sometimes think they spent more time gazing into the Place Beyond than they did looking at this world. My father trained with them in his youth. He mentioned a Vale, and I think he must have had the knowledge from the Graces. The Vale…”
Her voice trailed off as she tried to recall exactly what it was her father had said. “The Vale is a place, I think, that harbours darkness and shadows. Yet it contains power. My father really did not like to speak of it. It is not a prison, but it is a place that is deliberately sequestered from this world and the Place Beyond. It does not have anything to do with Elemental magic or the Soulenai. It simply exists somewhere.”
“And yet apart from you, none of us here has heard of it,” said Zeldon.
Isphet looked up sharply. “The Graces of the hill community have far more understanding than most Elementals, Zeldon. We are workers, they sages.”
“Tirzah,” Yaqob said, “in what context did Boaz mention the Vale?”
“Ah, it was something to do with the Infinity Chamber. And a Bridge.”
“A Bridge?” Isphet cried. “By the Soulenai! Do the Magi indeed intend to touch the Vale through the Infinity Chamber?”
“We need more information,” Yaqob said. “Tirzah, why hasn’t Boaz asked you back for this week?”
“Um…it is my monthly time,” I said, and managed to blush.
“It hasn’t stopped them before,” Isphet muttered, but said no more about it.
“Well then,” Yaqob said, “he’ll ask you back soon. Tirzah, this news of the incomposite numbers is disturbing. And the vague mention of the Vale is even worse. Are you sure he’s said nothing else of help?”
I shook my head.
“Then you must do your best to find out more,” he said. “With new workers to cage for the Magi, Threshold is only a few short months away from completion. Soon we’ll be asked to begin work on the capstone. Then…”
He shivered. “I will speak to Azam within the day. I fear we shall have to bring forward our plans.”
Then he smiled, and hugged me tight. “And then we’ll be free, Tirzah, running across the plains towards Isphet’s magical hill home, leaving Boaz lying dead and forgotten behind us.”
I tried to smile for him, and was glad when he leaned forward to kiss me.