Pyrebound - 6.5

Chapter 6.5 – Pyrebound
He emerged from the house the better part of an hour later, to find Darun and Bal leaning against the tower waiting for him.

“That was very sweet of you, Ram, giving us time to look around this lovely, fascinating place by ourselves. But I think we’ve seen enough now.”

“There was plenty of work to do, if you were bored,” Ram retorted, gesturing to a pair of ten-bloom-olds hauling a broken cornerstone away between them.

“If only they had money to pay for it,” Darun sighed. “Where’re your folks at? The ashes of your dead cousins are making me cough, and the live ones keep giving me resh-eyes.”

“Can’t imagine why. Come on.”

As Kambuz had said, the center of the hearth was the most badly damaged; many of the bondservants’ tenements by the walls were in adequate shape, a few even untouched. As the three of them passed by, Ram saw a girl, roughly his own age, hauling a bulging sack into one of them. Preparing to move in, perhaps? He couldn’t see her face under the veil, but he’d seen a similar mane of long hair from across the dining hall, many times, long ago. It had been brown before; now it was yellow-grey with dust, specked and stained with grit and ash and Haranduluz knew what.

Past the west gate, on the far side of the river, Urapu’s little flock of sheep were grazing, a few dozen in all. A lone shepherd stood atop the flat roof of their long, low barn, with a bow, a horn, and a keen eye for predators. Jehurru had been at his daily task for as long as Ram could remember, and wouldn’t give it up even if the hearth was half-destroyed. The beasts still needed to eat, after all.

The watermen had no such need, and the landing on the near side was deserted, with a pair of familiar-looking hemp bales lying unattended on the sand. Ram and Bal had to appropriate a boat, and row themselves and Darun across. As they neared the far side, Ram could make out the familiar noises of the pasture: bleating, Jehurru’s incessant thoughtless whistle, and low growls and yips from his three dogs, keeping the beasts in bowshot. Mixed in with them was a still more familiar sound, a steady, rhythmic clacking that had no place there.

They followed it around to the far side of the barn, where an enormous, one-armed man sat on the ground. A good-sized piece of stone was braced between his feet, while he worked at it with a tiny pickaxe. The man was facing away from them, out into the desert, so that for a long time Ram was able to stand silent and observe his father’s new technique. The statue hadn’t taken clear form yet—it was some sort of lithe animal sitting on its haunches.

Then Darun remarked, “Not bad, for a cripple. That’s weird enough to sell just on novelty.”

Father turned his head, and smiled. “Been wondering if I’d be seeing you soon. What kind of trouble you gotten into now?” His eyes slid to Darun, focusing on her black sash. “Oh, is it that kind of trouble?”

“I wish it was that simple,“ Ram began.

“We have a very close business relationship,” Darun said, more loudly, and threw an arm over Ram’s shoulder. “Your cousin Ushna says hi, by the way.”

Father dropped his pickaxe. “Ushna? Boy, do not even tell me you got mixed up with that crooked piece of—”

“Ushna’s dead,” Ram said, shrugging the arm off. “She just likes to make trouble.”

“Dead? Well, you done something right.”

“Rammash?” There was a sudden clatter from inside the barn, and its door flew open. Mother held up her arms, her face afire with joy—and paused. Her eyes took in Darun’s tight dress, bare face, black sash, and close proximity to her eldest child. Then they flew to Bal, who, aside from looking like exactly the kind of person he was, was a strange man and could now see her without her veil. Ram hoped mortification would win out over outrage.

Darun didn’t wait to find out. “Oh, Mother!” she cried in heartfelt tones, holding her hands to her heart as she took an unsteady step forward. “Ram’s told me so much about you!”

Ram hauled her back by the knot of her sash, nearly slamming her into the barn wall in the process. “No, I haven’t! We’re not together, Mother. Married, I mean. And, not, you know, the other way. Not even close. I don’t even like her!”

“That’s not what they’re saying in Dul Karagi,” Darun murmured, in an irritating singsong. Ram felt the blood rushing to his face—how long had she known about that?—but Mother had already gone back inside, shaking her head. Father retrieved his pickaxe and went back to work, doing his best to hide a smile.

Ram seized his chance to change the subject. “What’s that going to be, Father? Some kind of cat?”

“Naw, terrush,” Father said. “Ain’t cut the horns out yet. Biggest commission I’ve got in a bloom. Don’t reckon Enbisu’s gonna want it no more, seeing as he’s dead, but the rock’s paid for already and I got nothing else to do, right?”

“It looks like it’ll be lovely,” Darun offered.

“Mm-hmm. So what’s your story, girl?”

“It’s business,” Ram answered, before she could. “Just business.”

“Reckon we’ll hear about it soon enough, either way.” He gave the terrush one more thwack, then stood up, stretched, and waved for Darun to enter the barn. “That ought’ve been enough time.”

Sure enough, they found Mother veiled and posed as gracefully as her surroundings permitted. Backlit by the barn’s high windows, she sat enthroned on a milking-stool, her latest project in her hands. A reed basket lay by her feet, stuffed with what looked like a great wad of blankets; she rocked it back and forth with her foot as she worked.

“What’s his name?” Ram asked, nodding to it.

“Zemnishiri,” Mother said. Her great-uncle’s name, if Ram recalled correctly. “Zemni for short. I assume you are not visiting merely to be sociable?”

“No. I came here to get you, Father, and Zemni out of the hearth. It’s not safe for you here.”

“Yes, Ram. We had noticed. And how did that happen?”

It was his third time telling the story; it ought to have become easier. But he’d never had to tell it to Mother and Father, to admit outright all the ways he’d failed them, all the choices he’d made that had ended here, with the hearth ruined and the entire family marked for death. He faltered and stammered his way through, half-grateful and half-anxious that he couldn’t see Mother’s expression. Father’s was impassive the entire time.

When Ram finally finished, there was a long silence, broken by Father. “Well, it don’t sound like the boy had much choice about most of it.”

“Most of it. Slim consolation though that is at present. I suppose consulting with us was out of the question?”

She’d asked Ram, but Father answered, “What, you think he should’ve had an acolyte write all that down in a letter? Or just took a boat every time he wanted advice?”

“It strains credulity, Belemel, to claim that he had no choice but to keep us completely ignorant until this precise moment, long after all has been lost.”

“It’s not that bad,” Ram protested. “The Ensi’s fighting back, and you see he’s protecting you.”

“Rammash, you have made it perfectly clear that you do not understand the situation in the slightest. Please do not insult our intelligence by pretending otherwise now.”

“Well, what do you reckon we ought to do about it? I ain’t too fond of this new house they gave us, and Jehurru ain’t the best company neither. And as for the Ensi, how close is he fixing to watch us? This hearth has enough problems from his ‘help’ already; he does it again, Urapu’s going to be a big old hole in the ground. Like as not they’re all thinking it, out there; we could get our throats cut, one of these nights.”

Mother crossed her arms. “I have had much the same thoughts, Belemel. But what does this young woman propose as an alternative?”

Darun was leaning against the wall; there were no other milking-stools, and Mother had not offered her anything else. “My sister’s got a nice place in Dul Misishi—her husband’s their lugal’s cousin. I figure we can hide both of you there. For a while.”

“Given how poorly matters have been handled to date, I hope you will understand my reluctance to trust that plan.”

Darun rolled her eyes. “Do I look like I work for the Ensi? Before Ushna took that crazy deal, the Damadzus were doing just fine. Making way more money than you, anyway.”

“And yet we see you here,” Mother noted. “Still involved in the ‘crazy deal.’”

“Yeah, Ushna kind of screwed us out of all our other options. But if you want to stay here, go ahead; we’ll find another way. No hard feelings.”

“Shut up, Darun,” Ram said. “Mother, it has to be obvious that you can’t keep on living in this barn. The pyre will hear about this—soon—and you can’t stay hidden forever. Even if they don’t dare come openly again, they’ll send spies, and then kidnappers, or assassins. Urapu can’t protect itself anymore, let alone you.”

“So, you want to leave us in some stranger’s place,” Father said, “then go off and do what?”

“Go find the rest of Darun’s team, and see if we can figure out what’s going on here.”

“Are you still the Ensi’s man? Seeing as he damn near wiped this place off the map, I don’t feel too keen on that, personally.”

“He was saving your lives! I don’t like how he did it, but he … “ It didn’t seem quite right to protest that he’d meant well, with a hundred dead. Ram couldn’t say he was happy about that himself. “Anyway, I’m indwelt, Father. I don’t think I have a choice now.”

Father snorted. “Sure you do. It’s a big Dominion, ain’t it? Go off and get lost. Make your own way, boy. You don’t owe that pack of liars a half-copper.”

“They’ll be able to find me. Shennai knew where I was.”

“There is another obvious conflict here,” Mother interrupted, leaning forward and setting her work aside. “The Ensi, you say, wishes to regain his authority over the pyre. Very well. If power has been usurped, let the right be restored. It is a worthy goal, in my opinion.”

Here her head moved slightly, as though she stole a glance at Father through the veil. He looked dissatisfied, but waved for her to continue. “And your sister is already bound to the same purpose. Your duty to her, which you have not thought fit to mention, has not disappeared.”

“Mother, I had a hard enough time just saving myself. If they can get past Nusun at the Temple stair, and don’t get burned alive by her or her friends, what am I going to do?”

“Continue to help her. She is your blood kin, whether she is in direct physical danger or not. I would not have expected you to extract her from the Temple single-handed, at any rate. But this girl, and her friends—are they so committed? I do not think so. I do not doubt,” she said, holding up a hand to forestall Darun’s objection, “that they are willing enough to investigate the matter from idle curiosity, or for potential future gain.

“Yet I see no such gain in this, at least without substantial hardship. By your account, Rammash, more than a dozen people have died at the pyre that you know of, not counting the devastation here. The Lugal will not surrender his power lightly, and we have seen that the Ensi will not hesitate to cause terrible destruction for the sake of achieving his goals. What will you do, young woman, if the Ensi demands more in the way of service than you are willing to render?”

“Say no, and do something else,” Darun answered coolly. “He doesn’t own me, and neither does Ram. There’s no contract here. But if your son comes out of this alive, at the very least, the Ensi will owe us big. Even if we can’t find a way to make money off this in the meantime, that’s worth something. Besides, it’s so interesting.” Her smile was radiant, and innocuous, and utterly unconvincing.

“Do you take me for an utter fool?”

“Your kid had to get it from somewhere, so—“

“Enough of that!” Father thumped his fist against the wall. “Dark dreams is tonight. I don’t even recollect where Dul Misishi is, but I know it ain’t close, and there won’t be no more barges coming through today. We’re stuck in Urapu till the tetrad turns. I don’t care to spend two days jawing and fighting, so here’s the deal: we move out at sunup on rising day. And that’s all we’re going to say, clear?”

“Sure,” Darun said. Ram could tell that Mother was unhappy—but knew better than to argue. There was no poppy-slur in her husband’s voice, no whine of self-pity. If Belemel wasn’t exactly the man he’d been a bloom ago, he was close enough, and that man had never been inclined to put up with inane bickering. Mother knew what had to happen. They all did.

Now Father turned to Ram. “In the meantime, we’d all better rest. It’s going to be one hell of a trip.”