Pyrebound - 9.1

Nine: A Statesman in Training – Pyrebound
The strict seclusion of a pyre’s priesthood is publicly justified on a number of grounds. First and foremost is safety; as only an heir of the pyre’s founder may rekindle it, assassination is a constant and terrible threat. Second is the need to keep the lineage secure from corrupting influences of the outside world. If the ensi or en were to be suborned by one faction or another, it would compromise public trust and undermine his ability to serve all the pyre equally. Moreover, the sheer sanctity of his office argues against allowing him to mingle with lesser men, who deal with polluted things on a regular basis.

Regardless of the reason, the end result is to make the ensi the least-known of all men in a pyre, until the day he dies, and his name is given to the next ten blooms, and marked down indelibly in the histories of his pyre. It might be said that a priest is no man at all, as long as he lives.

Small as the Dominion had seemed during last fall’s campaign, it looked smaller still from the air. The Teshalun was a thin brownish line far off to their right, Pilupura a distant sparkle of gold behind them. All the rest of the world was a uniformly drab tan, and scarcely seemed to move beneath them.

The sky overhead was mostly hidden behind an enormous cloud of billowing fabric, blue and green shot through with metallic threads. A constellation of golden stars filled the space under the main canopy, sucking in a constant updraft to keep them aloft. The side-sails lit up from time to time with evanescent flares as the steerswoman banked the craft to correct their course.

Under all that, the skybarque itself looked almost like an afterthought, a tiny box of metal and glass with seven people variously standing or sitting atop it. Piridur had been on too many of these rides to care about them, and was resting below with their luggage. Darun was sulking down there as well, because the handmaidens had refused to take on all her bags of clothes. Ram had soon given up trying to console her.

The rest of them were enjoying (or enduring) the new, if somewhat terrifying, sensation of being several hundred feet above ground with a strong wind ripping past them. It was pleasant enough, provided they remained seated on the deck in the lee of the railing. He had no clue how the handmaidens kept standing in the face of it. Imbri was slumped over on the far side of the deck, her hood blown back by the wind. Ram assumed she was only there for the fresh air, or to get away from Darun.

Shazru inched his way carefully over to sit next to Ram. “Might I ask what you plan to do when we find the Ensi, Ram?” he asked, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the wind.

“You can ask, but I don’t have an answer for you. Depends what he’s up to, really. What do you want me to do?”

“Whatever best serves the common good, I suppose.”

“That’s not what you told me before the bloom.”

“No, I told you not to be impractically idealistic. We are all constrained in our choices, Ram. I would advise you to do what you can, within those limits, to further the cause of life.”

“I don’t have a whole lot to do with Kuara, you know. And anyway, what’s the cause of life? Whose life?”

“Kuara will have something to do with you, whether you choose to deal with her or not. Those windows at the Garden were not all false; my god and yours—“

“Haranduluz isn’t my god. It’s more like I’m his toy.”

“As you will,” Shazru continued with a touch of impatience. “But the Father of Fires and the Mother of Life pursue similar ends. She is only a bit subtler. Less direct. Do you know how tinapi survive the White Sun, away from pyre-light?”

“No.” Nor care, really.

Shazru answered anyway. “They dive. Deep under water, so far down that no light, gold or white, can reach. And there they pass the day in a perfect sleep, anywhere on Ki that deep water may be found. In some ways, it is a more convenient approach, not to insist on standing tall against terrors. Under the water, life goes on, and it will go on, making modest gains in spite of every seeming victory death can inflict.”

“Is that so.” It sounded like an elaborate excuse for cowardice to Ram, but he wasn’t interested in debating the old man at a time like this.

It was late in the afternoon when they landed at Dul Tenzen; Piridur booked passage on to Dul Karagi before the first barque was out of sight on its way back to Pilupura. Ram’s growing unease was offset by the relief flowing out of his haranu now that they were headed “home” again. Still, he couldn’t help wondering how far he could stretch cooperation with the pyre’s authorities, before Zasha counted it as surrender. Among other, still more urgent difficulties.

They arrived on the Palace roof at Dul Karagi shortly after sunset, a few feet away from the terrace where Ram had been indwelt. Four men were already rushing up the stairs as they touched down—barques only landed on this roof for emergencies. The man in the lead was dressed in a fine long tunic; he was about Shazru’s age, a bit overweight, and walked with a distinct limp, but had a flamekeeper’s sword and buckler at his belt. The three men behind him were dressed less richly but armed the same. Piridur ran to embrace the old man, then stepped back to give him a formal bow.

“We were successful, Father. The boy behind me is Rammash im-Belemel.”

“Really?” Ram was several steps behind Piridur. The man gave him a long, and not very friendly, look. He had his son’s broad face, but with a longer nose and beard, and was much balder. “The timing of this can’t be a coincidence.”

“It isn’t,” Piridur agreed. “Pardon me, Father. Ram, this is Lugal Jushur.”

“Sir,” Ram said with a civil nod. That was the closest to a bow the Lugal would get from him.

“The Lugal’s kid, and only Second Sword?” Darun remarked. “Either your brother’s first, or nepotism ain’t what it used to be.”

“And the infamous Damadzus, I take it?” Jushur asked his son.

“Yes, they’ve offered to help us sort this out, in exchange for restored countenance.”

“All right,” Ram said loudly, “Why don’t we drop all this?”

Piridur frowned. “All what?”

“All this,” Ram said, waving around the rooftop. “Pretense. Lies. Whatever you want to call it. We’re not your friends, Piridur.”

The Lugal started to say something, but his son put a hand on his arm. “No, Ram. We’re not friends yet, though I’d like to change that. Why do you say we’re lying?”

“Because none of this makes sense. You’ve got to keep the crazy Ensi boxed in tight to keep him from going berserk, right? Then why isn’t he doing anything now? He’s totally free, isn’t he?” Ram turned to the Temple; the barque had already lifted silently off behind them and sailed away, leaving their baggage in a heap. The sight of the fire, after so long away, was almost enough to make Ram forget he was angry. It shone down on much the same scene as it had when he left. “Yeah, there’s no Ensi in there. I can’t even tell how far away he is now, only that it’s farther than any of your hearths.”

He turned back. “Why the hell is this dangerous lunatic running away? He could give the whole pyre the Urapu treatment if he wanted. Or just burn out the north end like the resh-nest it is.” Jushur scowled. “I was expecting to find a heap of rubble and bodies here. But the pyre looks fine, while he’s getting as far away as he can. Even though, if he’s anything like me, it’s almost physically painful to leave it. He’s not acting dangerous, he’s acting scared.”

“No. You weren’t pinning him in there with assassins or whatever; he arranged to escape on … maybe eight hours’ notice? And steal a skybarque, while he was at it. He could never get that far on foot. If he did it last night, he could have done it any time in the last couple of months. Or worse. It wasn’t you keeping him in there. He’s been there by choice, this whole time, and only left because I forced him. So I have to wonder, what else were you lying about.”

“I wasn’t lying,” Piridur said slowly. “We do have to constrain the priestly line, frequently with fear of death. If I didn’t tell you the whole truth, it was because I didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

“Oh, I think I’d rather be overwhelmed right now. Because I’m going to be in the Ensi’s place in three blooms, and I want to know exactly what I’m walking into before I go helping you. I’m not stupid, you know.”

“Nobody said you were—”

“No, but you’re acting like it. Right now, you need me. When and if I get the Ensi back for you, I’m just a loose end to tie up. And so are the rest of them,” he said, indicating the Damadzus behind him. “I can’t speak for them, but I’m not going to fix all your problems so you can cut my throat, or lock me up in the Temple for the rest of my pathetically short life.”

“No argument here,” Imbri chimed in.

“Don’t forget to arrange for payment,” Darun added.

“Payment,” Jushur said, with resounding scorn. “As if we cared for money, at a time like this? You will have your fee. What else are you asking for?”

“I’m not leaving this pyre, or telling you where to find the Ensi, until I’m convinced I know the whole story, and I’ve got a solid guarantee that it’s not going to bite me in the ass. If I’m going to hunt this man down for you, I need to know who he is.”

“Shimrun,” Jushur said. “His true name is Shimrun im-Sutiri.”

“Like that tells me anything? No. I need to know everything. Why he stayed for so long, why he wanted to leave, and why he waited so long to do it.”

Piridur said, “You know he lived in seclusion, Ram. The whole family did. We didn’t keep detailed records, and we didn’t meet with him regularly. We had no reason to.”

“What about people who knew him, or served him?” Ram asked. “Gelibara? My sister?”

“Both gone,” Jushur said. “It hasn’t been a full day, and he left in the dead of night, so we don’t know everyone who fled with him. But he appears to have taken both of his surviving brothers as well, and at least two other junior handmaidens. As for servants, all his other minders are dead. He killed them before he left.”

“How inconvenient,” Imbri said. “You sure he did it?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. If we ever get him back, we’ll need trained men and women to take care of him.”

“No, you won’t,” Ram said, “because things aren’t going back to the way they were.”

Jushur only smiled. Piridur said, “Ram, please understand that there are going to be trust issues on both sides. We have only your word for it that you aren’t coordinating with the Ensi.”

“With Shimrun,” Ram corrected. Change had to start somewhere.

“Yes, with Shimrun. You’ve admitted you can communicate with him over long distances. You’ve even threatened to use that against us.”

“I need him here more than you do, though. You’re rich; you can run to another pyre if he doesn’t kindle this one. I’ll die if he doesn’t come back. Or were you making that up?”

“No. The haranu life cycle is very well documented, and all our sources agree. If their origin fails, they destroy their hosts as they burn out.”

“Well documented?” Imbri said. “How many people know all this, at this pyre? Or any pyre?”

Piridur shrugged. “That depends what you mean by all this. Every acolyte and handmaiden knows what will happen if the pyre doesn’t kindle, but only a few know the details of Karagi’s lineage. Until Father mentioned it just now, I didn’t know the Ensi’s name.”

“Because you didn’t care enough to find out,” Imbri said.

“Not really, no. Nobody does. The priesthood is an unpleasant but essential part of keeping the pyre running; those of us who have the luxury of not dealing with it aren’t curious about the details, any more than we want to know about the logistics of getting the Temple’s output of night-soil to the seeps.”

“Yes, Ram, seriously. Interesting as it may be to you, for us it’s just another unpleasant part of our jobs. But you’re not going to learn everything about Dul Karagi’s government in the next two days, and we do have to hurry.”

“Why?” Imbri asked. “You have three blooms until you need this man, and Ram said it’s unpleasant for him to move away from the pyre. How far do you think he’ll run?”

Piridur hesitated. “It’s not a matter of how far he’ll go,” he said. “He’s unstable and unsupervised, and we don’t know what he’ll decide to do.”

He was obviously hiding something, but it was no good asking what. These men wouldn’t stop lying just because they were asked nicely. “Take me to the Temple,” Ram said, on a sudden impulse.

Piridur blinked. “Pardon me?”

“The Ensi’s gone, you say, and so’s everybody who knew him or worked with him. Fine. But you can still show me where he lived. I’ll go tonight.”

Darun spoke up. “Hey, Ram, some of us are tired, and that’s a hell of a lot of stairs.”

“You don’t have to come,” he told her. “But I’m going to see the Temple tonight.” Before they’d had a chance to clean up any evidence. And before anyone had had a chance to recover further from the shock, and think up newer and better lies to tell him.

“That might not be a good idea,” Piridur said.

“I’ll decide for myself what’s a good idea, thanks. I’ll be your partner if I have to, but I’m not your bondsman, or your pet.” Piridur looked doubtful, but that was better than his father, who seemed to be struggling to hold back laughter. “Well? What’s it going to be? Do you have something to hide here?”

“Rammash,” Shazru put in. “I can understand that you are not happy with the pyre’s administration. But have you considered that they have substantial experience running this pyre, and you do not?”

“I know they have experience,” Ram answered. “I’ve seen how they run it firsthand, up close, and I wasn’t impressed. This pyre is full of rot in all the dark corners where the light won’t reach. Let me see inside the Temple, Piridur. Now.”

“If you like,” he said. “But it won’t make you happy. You can wait for me in the plaza, Ram, while I help Father find rooms for your friends. I promise that, before the night is over, you’ll find you know more than you ever wanted to.”