Pyrebound - 12.4
Author: theredsheep

Chapter 12.4 – Pyrebound

Ninshuma wept hysterically for a full five minutes. Mana’s earnest, anxious attempts at comfort only seemed to terrify her more—she recoiled at the sight of a reshmarked face. Ram eventually decided to take Mana, Shimrun, and Pimna into the other room with him, and let Rinti and Shennai give it a try. The walls were thin enough for them to hear it working. She was hiccuping and answering simple questions when Mannagiri abruptly took her back, and came in high dudgeon to find Shimrun.

“I told you to wait,” Ninshuma’s voice said crossly. “I didn’t take that long!”

“I’m sorry,” Ram told him. “Your handmaiden was distressed.”

“Never mind that,” he—she?—snapped. “I’ve found what you need. Come on, now, I don’t have a lot of time to spare on this.” She stormed out of the room; they had to hustle to catch up with her as she made her way down the stairs and out the door onto the twilit streets.

“I think I trust this one even less than the snitch,” Darun muttered to Ram as she limped along at the end of the line. “Is he even sane?”

“I don’t know.” He wasn’t sure it had been a good idea to tell the man so much—he’d have advised Shimrun to shut his mouth, if refusing hadn’t struck him as even more dangerous. Mannagiri had a much more forceful and arrogant manner than Ram had ever seen from Shimrun. But maybe that was just how everyone came across when they were using another human that way?

Shennai might have been thinking along similar lines. “What will you do next, my lord?”

“You know, I’m not really sure,” he replied. “I don’t think I want to do what you did. It didn’t work out very well for you. Hey, En! Tell your concubine to keep up!” He didn’t seem concerned about being overheard.

“She’s hurt,” Ram protested, but Darun limped faster without complaint. Ninshuma’s body led them to one of the larger and cleaner-looking houses on the west coast of the island, with a frolicking school of fish laid out in mosaic across its front wall. Ram caught a glimpse of the egg-cluster sigil of Kuara on the door before their guide tugged at the latch. It didn’t budge.

“It’s late, sir,” Shennai told him. “They’ll be closed for the day.”

“That doesn’t work,” Mannagiri pouted. “I need it now.” Ram heard a hissing noise, and smelled something like hot metal and wood smoke. “There.” Ninshuma kicked the door open, scattering splinters and lock parts everywhere, and walked inside.

The door opened onto a spacious, double-high parlor, tiled in stone with gleaming metal trim. There was another of Kuara’s signs inlaid in the floor, with a large wet-lamp for the large central egg. It still glowed gently, casting a soft blue light over the cushioned chairs lining the walls. The far side of the room was occupied by a low, curtained doorway, flanked by two stairways leading up to a second-floor balcony and several more doors. One of them flew open as they shuffled in, and a half-dressed old man came out clutching a tall wrought-iron candle-stand.

“The Goddess protects this house!” he shouted. “Clear out, you heathen vagabonds, or you’ll regret it!”

“We need tinap medicine,” Mannagiri announced. “Do you have any? Oh, damn.” Ninshuma twitched, and fell down.

The old man leaned over the balcony railing. “What’s this, now?” He set the stand down. “Girl? You all right?”

“She will be,” Shennai told him, lifting Ninshuma’s shaking form off the floor. “We’re very sorry to intrude like this, sir. We are not robbers.” A tiny gold light appeared in the air above their heads, brightening the scene. It was about the best Shennai could do, this far from her fire.

The old man squinted down at them. “Handmaiden, eh? Everything we got here, I sold you some already. Five gold of it just last tetrad. What do you need that can’t wait till morning? And what’s got you out of your colors?”

Darun hobbled into the light, pulling her veil off. “We’ve had a bit of an accident,” she said. “It has to be handled discreetly.”

The old man leaned over a little further. “So you have,” he said dispassionately, then cocked his head. “Call this discreet, do you?” He looked down at Ninshuma, who had shoved Shennai away to sob on the floor by herself. “There’s something queer about this. We sold you two full jars of peace-in-soundness this same month. Just what are you doing in that temple?”

“Do you really want to know?” Darun asked him.

“You’re no handmaiden,” he said. “And that burn’s got to be a day old.”

A long, loud, low noise, like the bellow of a bull but slower, came from the curtained door on the first floor. The girls jumped and skittered back behind Pimna; Ninshuma stumbled towards the exit. Before she got there, a gigantic greenish-blue head shoved through the curtain, splashing water across the floor. It was enormous, roughly the shape of a mule’s head, but three times as big, earless and scaly, with a long orange fin or crest above either eye. It opened its jaws and moaned again, and Ram wished he hadn’t left the swords in his pack back at the inn.

Then he realized it was speaking Flametongue, only very loud and with a thick accent. Its mouth and throat weren’t made for human speech. “The day is ended, children of the golden sun. I will do no more until tomorrow. Leave, and let me sleep.”

Darun was the first to recover her wits. “I’m going to have to ask you to make an exception, Matriarch.”

Matriarch? Ram supposed it—she—would be about the size of the creche-guards they’d seen in Pilupura, behind that curtain. No bigger than the largest murrush. It was still hard to think of such a monster as a priestess of Kuara.

“There will be no exceptions,” she declared. “I have not agreed to work at night. That is not part of our compact. You have no special claim on me. Leave, or I will use force.”

This was going downhill rapidly. But things would be going downhill very soon for all of Atellu, unless Ram was reading the situation all wrong. And if this creature really was a matriarch, magically gifted … Ram knelt and bowed down until his head knocked against the floor. Without raising his face, he said, “I am the En of Dul Karagi, Matriarch. The other man here is the Ensi. We have come for your help. Please don’t turn us away.”

A long silence. Ram kept staring at the floor; he didn’t know a lot about how tinapi thought, but humility wouldn’t hurt. At last the Matriarch spoke again: “Dul Karagi? I have no agreement with Dul Karagi.”

“Could you make one?” Darun asked quickly. “The en and ensi should be able to do that, right?”

“It is not appropriate for an en to negotiate. Where is your lugal? And I do not know you.”

Ram got back up to a kneeling position, and stretched out his hand. “Shennai, show her.” Gold fire puffed harmlessly over his hand. “See? I’m indwelt. Anyway, I don’t need to make any kind of long-term agreement for the whole pyre. I just have some questions. If you’d sell us something as well, I’d appreciate that.”

The huge head waggled back and forth, approximating a human head-shake. “You want a relationship. Relationships must be negotiated, even with humans. Especially with humans. I will not break contract.”

“Yeah, that is how tinapi work, Ram,” Darun said. “Everything’s got to be set out ahead of time as to who’s going to do what and who owes who. It’s complicated, and aggravating. That’s why I always left it to Shazru.”

Ninshuma’s voice cut in from behind them: “Don’t you have the medicine yet? I can’t keep coming back here.”

“I believe we can handle matters from here, lord,” Shennai soothed him. “It might be best if you took your handmaiden back now, so she doesn’t get in trouble. Thank you for your help.”

“There’s no avoiding trouble now, and I owe you. Just hurry up. This is very distracting.”

“Trouble?” the Matriarch boomed. “What kind of trouble?” The man on the balcony had adopted a reverent silence from the moment she appeared, but he looked more than a little perturbed as well.

Ram turned to look back at Ninshuma, who crossed her arms. “I don’t know! I’m probably going to have to get rid of most of the acolytes, at least. The handmaidens can’t touch me.”

Oh, hell. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, sir,” Ram said. He had to try.

“Who is this?” the Matriarch demanded. Ram wished she would speak a little more quietly.

“I speak for the ensi of this pyre.” Ninshuma snapped her fingers, and a great globe of fire appeared near the ceiling, easily overpowering the pallid wet-lamp to light the whole room.

The Matriarch didn’t flinch, only swung her head slowly back and forth to look at all of them in turn. Her face was impossible for Ram to read. At last she said, “If you are known to an authority of Atellu, that is enough. What do you want to know, En?”

“Magic. How does magic work?”

“That question would require a month to answer rightly.”

“Then how do you do—what you do?” He didn’t really know what matriarchs were capable of, beyond making wellsprings.

“A human could not do it. Only a female tinap of advanced years and extensive training, who has laid many eggs; I have laid more than a thousand, and I am far from the greatest of matriarchs. Another matriarch gave me the power, many blooms ago. I offer the eggs within me to the Mother, and she gives me what I need in return.”

“Eggs? You give her eggs?”

“Unlaid eggs will suffice for lesser works—potions, medicines. For greater matters, they must be quickened at a creche. The greatest of all require live spawn, but I will not give up my spawn for human gold.”

“And I wouldn’t expect you to,” Ram told her. So tinap magic also involved sacrifices—much smaller sacrifices, much more frequently than once a kindling. Was that significant? He didn’t know. “What do you know about human magic?”

“I do not deal with Haranduluz,” she said flatly. “Nor Nidriz. I serve the Mother of Life.” He couldn’t tell if she was offended, or if offense was something tinapi could feel in the first place. “You needed medicine?” Offended or not, that sure sounded like impatience.

“As much waters-of-release as you will give us,” Pimna said, speaking up for the first time. “And a jar of peace-in-soundness.”

“Very well. Six gold, please. Harram?” The man hurried down from the balcony and held out a hand to Pimna. She looked at Ram, who looked at Shennai, who looked back at Ninshuma; Zisapa had taken most of their money. Mannagiri fumbled around in Ninshuma’s clothes—Ram tried not to think too hard about it—before coming up with two gold and five silver. The old man did not look impressed.

“Just the waters-of-release, then,” Shennai said. “At least one jar?”

“Hey, hold up,” Ram said, patting his pockets. He got another three silver, give or take a copper. “She needs help too. How much will this get me?”

“I cannot surrender fractions of eggs, En. And a matriarch does not bargain.” The giant head looked at the money in Ninshuma’s hand. “With what he has, that will suffice for two jars. I am being generous.”

“Will it pay for one of each?” Ram asked.

“Her problem is cosmetic, Ram,” Pimna objected. “Our ensi needs this to breathe comfortably.”

“Cosmetic? Look at her!” Ram turned to Darun, who looked at her feet. “If we don’t treat her quickly, that’s going to be a giant mass of scars. The longer we wait, the worse it’ll get.”

“I’ll scar anyway,” she said to the floor. “I’m never going to be pretty again.”

Ram turned back to Pimna and Shennai. “This is your damn fault, all of you. Darun got that way trying to help you. You can make her right.”

“She hasn’t done much helping that I can tell,” Pimna said, “only offered petty and unhelpful comments.”

“Whatever you decide, decide quickly,” said Mannagiri. “I’ve taken care of most of the eunuchs, but not all, and the women help them when I’m not looking. Now they’ve got one of my brothers hostage. I want this temple totally secured before the flamekeepers get here.”

“You’re killing your acolytes? That’s—“

“Not our problem,” Pimna said, snatching the tanbirs out of Ram’s palm and giving them to the old man along with Ninshuma’s. “Waters-of-release, please.”

“Hey!” A familiar burning pain in his chest floored him before he could do more than think of taking the money back. “Shimrun!”

“This is … how it has to be, Ram.” The old man gave them an odd look, but said nothing. However curious he might have been about all this talk of murdered acolytes, his desire to see the back of them overrode it. He fetched a glass jar from the space under the stairs, and his Matriarch set to work, spewing a clear greenish fluid into it. It was a good-sized jar; it might last him half a month, if they conserved it. That much of the ointment could have covered all of Darun’s burns.

“I am glad to have helped my brother of Karagi,” Mannagiri said. “I have to go now. Goodbye.” The great light near the ceiling abruptly vanished, plunging the room back into darkness. Ninshuma shuddered, stumbled one last time, and rushed out the door. Nobody followed her. There was nothing anyone could say to comfort a woman in her situation.

Darun worked her laborious way down to her knees so she could whisper in Ram’s ear, “It’s just fish-hork anyway. No big deal.”

“This is your life, damn it!” he hissed back at her. The fire in his chest took all the strength out of his limbs; he couldn’t make himself stand up. “Fight for it! This is bullshit!”

“Try to look less burnt by picking a fight with handmaidens? That makes sense.” She put her hand on his mouth before he could say anything. “Sorry, bad time for that, I know. There’s never really a good time to be me.” She kissed his cheek. “It’s sweet of you to try, but I’m a dead woman, Ram. A corpse pretending, same as you.”

“I told you to stop talking like that.”

She eased herself down into a more comfortable sitting position. “I can see the future better than Imbri, lover. So can you. You have to know we’re headed nowhere good. Does it matter if I’m a little less ugly when they kill us?”

“This isn’t the end,” he insisted, wishing he believed himself. The old man stuck plugs in two full jars of Shimrun’s medicine. “You wouldn’t be dragging this out if you really believed that.”

“What if I’m just too cowardly to die on purpose?”

“You’re not a coward, and never were. Selfish, greedy, vicious, reckless, vain—but not a coward.”

“You sure know how to flatter a girl. How about you? What’s keeping you alive?”

“Mostly spite. It’s not much.” The pain in his chest receded as Pimna hoisted her two jars. The others were already edging towards the door; only Mana spared a miserable glance for the two of them. “Where do you think you’re going?” he said, in a much louder voice.

“Don’t be childish, Ram,” Pimna chided. “However you feel about us right now, we have to leave this pyre quickly.”

Ram didn’t move from the floor. “Didn’t you hear? Mannagiri’s killing off his minders. They’ve got a bull going rogue right now, thanks to us. They’re not going to make time to look for a handful of scrubby blackbands now.”

“Even so,” Shennai said, “we don’t want to be trapped here when it happens.”

“And you’re going to, what, flee Low Atellu during an emergency, at night, using only the tiny bit of cash we’ve got in our packs back at the inn? Not a chance. Every boat off this island will be charging at least a gold per head.”

“And what do you propose as an alternative?” Shennai demanded.

“I’m not proposing a damn thing. I’m staying right here until you get my woman the medicine she needs. Oh, I know you can make me move, Shimrun—but you can’t make me help you. My mind is my own. I’ll come right back here the moment you let go.”

“Come back here, will you? We’ve done our part, young—“

“What is happening?” the Matiarch said, cutting her elderly assistant off.

“The Ensi’s taking back his pyre, is what’s happening. Your life is about to get a whole lot more complicated. I’ll give you the details in exchange for a jar of peace-in-soundness. Give me my medicine, and I’ll tell you everything, then clear out and leave you alone.”

Just as he finished speaking, they heard a great crash, like thunder in the distance, followed by the fainter sound of human voices screaming. The Matriarch reared up her giant head to listen. “And what was that, En?”

“I’d imagine it was the God’s fire leveling the Palace, up on the cliffs.” Mannagiri wouldn’t have bothered to scare them all out first, the way they had at their own pyre. Dozens of people had probably just died, including perfectly innocent bondservants. And there was nothing they could have done to prevent it, once Mannagiri knew it had happened before.

The Matriarch considered a moment, then said, “We are agreed. Tell me a true tale, and the ointment is yours, En. Then you will leave this pyre, where you have worked so much evil.”

“Evil? All we did is tell a story. Stories are dangerous things, you know. But since you asked, here’s ours …”