“The oracle! That’s what he said?”
She blushes as if I’ve criticized her, for even a slightly raised voice causes her to cringe. A rush of affection from an undiscovered territory of my heart floods me. I kiss her on the cheek as I would a sister.
“Thank you, Denya. I’m glad you’ve found a home with us.”
By the lion gate that leads into the High Priest’s compound within the temple complex, three young men wait beside an empty sedan chair.
“Are you waiting for Ro-emnu?” I ask.
“We’re helping him out today.” They introduce themselves. “You’re Spider, aren’t you? He talks about you a lot.”
A woman’s flirtatious laughter catches my attention. Ro stands at the gate teasing the guard on duty, a young woman with a height and build similar to mine although she is a lot freer with her smiles and in the way she caresses his arm. She sees me and gives him a long, lingering kiss on the mouth.
“He doesn’t talk about her as much as he does about you,” offers one of the young men helpfully.
If I retort that I don’t care how much he talks about her, it will sound as if I do, so I say, “Are we going soon?”
Instead of answering they hammer me with questions. “How did you plan and lead the mine revolt?” “Was the Inkos temple really built on top of a temple dedicated to the Mother of All?” “Are you so good at the Fives because you are the guardian of all that which is buried and thus have been granted the Mother’s favor?” “What do you think of Ro’s song about you?”
Their enthusiastic curiosity is a bit overwhelming and thus I’m relieved when a soldier wearing a Lion Guard badge appears and beckons to Ro, who waves to us. As I follow the sedan chair under the gate the attractive guard flashes me the kiss-off sign in challenge, and I’m so delighted that I send it right back with more zeal than I intended. But as we walk into a garden once reserved for the holiest of Saroese priests, I realize it’s not any competition over Ro that rouses me. Love isn’t a victor’s ribbon to be snatched away from another adversary. It’s the chance that maybe someday I can go back to the Fives that makes me respond this way.
If the Fives survive the war.
General Inarsis awaits us beneath an arbor. The old scholar whom Maraya protected in the temple sits in a sling chair padded with extra pillows, a cup cradled in his hands. The two men have been drinking together.
“Here is the poet Ro-Emnu, who brought you across the Stone Desert. He will show you to your new home. May you bide there in peace, Domon.”
“My thanks, General.”
As Ro’s friends respectfully help the elder into the sedan chair and cushion him with pillows, I sidle over to the general. Even though he has made himself Protector of all Efea, king by another name, he waits for me to speak first.
“General Inarsis—”
“Honored Protector,” corrects Ro.
“Honored Protector and General, you should assign me to the spider scouts.”
Inarsis lifts an eyebrow. “Should I? Is all the acclaim going to your head?”
“I’m probably the only person in this city who has actual experience as a spider scout.”
“I don’t think you’re officer material, Spider.”
“I don’t want to be an officer or even a soldier, just a trainer. At the stable where I first learned the Fives, all adversaries had to train fledglings as a part of their own training, so I have some experience.” I close my hand into a fist, feeling the strain even that movement still causes my injured wrist. “I need a job to do while we fight this war.”
“This war is not going to be over quickly. I daresay it will never be over, not as long as foreigners covet our land and our wealth.”
“Which is why you need to incorporate the spiders into the new army. I can train recruits in the basics of operating them.”
Ro crosses his arms. “I thought you were going to stay with your mother. Hasn’t she suffered enough wondering what happened to you?”
“Honored Poet, let it go,” says General Inarsis in a mild voice. He turns his keen gaze on me. “Why should I trust you, Spider? When we last parted you were determined to set Lord Kalliarkos on the throne.”
“Yes, to my regret I was. I see now that I was mistaken.”
“Mistaken in your loyalties?” He watches me closely.
“Not in the way you mean. I was mistaken in believing that the change Efea needs can come about through them.”
He reflects before answering, while I fidget.
“Very well. Report at dawn tomorrow to your new unit.”
“Thank you, Honored Protector. Can I get Missenshe transferred to the spider scouts? I think people with experience as adversaries might be fastest at getting the coordinated movements necessary to operate the spiders effectively. I can train them as we march south.”
“You think an untrained spider squadron should march south with the strike force?”
“I do. Spiders aren’t just strong and deadly. They’re a disguise too. The Saroese won’t guess it’s us.”
“You never stop spinning the Rings in your head, do you?”
“Never.”
A subtle smile transforms his harsh expression. “I’m glad to hear it. Honored Poet, you are dismissed to take this elder where he needs to go.”
Ro opens his mouth to say something to me, realizes that I have not in fact spoken directly to him yet, and closes it. Inarsis chuckles.
With a smirk, I say, “Yes, I’m coming with you, Honored Poet.”
I walk behind the sedan chair, its curtains drawn, as Ro and his three friends carry it out of the temple, across the square, and through the streets of Ibua. Once away from the Saroese-built district along the river, the city turns into a maze of confusing lanes that double back on each other or dead-end in fragrant gardens. The only familiar structures I see are fountains crowned with the animals of the menageries, just like in the Warrens of Saryenia.
We enter one of the typical outdoor Efean taverns, although at this time of day it’s almost empty, with only two napping cats and a child sweeping. Past the kitchen a narrow passageway cuts between high walls and opens into a garden. Here a house built in the Efean style stands in the shade of a massive tamarisk tree.
An old woman sits on a bench, face turned to the sky. It takes me a moment to recognize her as the oracle my family was entombed with. Fresh air and sunshine have brought color to her cheeks. She looks more relaxed although she twists her hands over and over in her lap as if it is a nervous habit picked up during her decades of imprisonment inside Eternity Temple. As our feet crunch up she turns to watch us arrive, and it’s clear she recognizes Ro with a mixture of relief and disdain.
“Have you not troubled me enough with your questions? I’ve told you everything I know five times over. Also, the new cook makes the lentil stew too spicy, and that nice boy who drew up water and sang in such a sweet voice left to join the army. I was not aware you people were allowed to join the army.”