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It told him that sex probably wasn’t very memorable and if that was the truth, Meoraq wasn’t sure he wanted to hear it. He wasn’t a child; the last of his scales had turned black before he’d received his brunt’s tabard and the incident that had led to the metal loin-plate he was now wearing (and would wear for the rest of his life) had been dimming in the back of his mind for two years now. No, there were no women in Tilev and none at home, excepting servants glimpsed as they went swiftly and silently about their business, but there would be women someday and after two years wrestling with Ga
Tsazr heaved a short, impatient sigh and cut his hand through the air. “Fine. We’ll have to talk again someday, but for right now, we’ll stick to truth. That is the true work of a Sheulek. Never mind what they tell you in school about law and government or even about the Word itself. When we step into that arena, it is not for glory, not for women, not even for God, but for only truth. We accept that we may die and we embrace that death if it means the truth is exposed. Do you hear me, Uyane?”
“Yes, sir.”
Tsazr grunted and eyed him for a moment before looking back out the window. “And do you understand me?”
Meoraq braced himself once more for that slap. “No, sir.”
But Tsazr pointed two fingers at him and said, “Truth. I don’t know if you mean it, but that doesn’t matter. You spoke and I judge your words to be true ones, regardless of your motives. That’s my whole point, boy. Why does not matter to us. Only truth.” He fell quiet for a time, then said, “And truth does not care if it comforts you.”
Out in the greater hall, the bells rang for the mid-day meal. Tsazr stirred himself, glanced at Meoraq and then swept a hand over his snout.
“So here it is,” he said. “The truth that changes everything. Prepare yourself.”
Meoraq bent his neck and took several deep breaths, forcing his muscles to unlock and his heart to beat slow. Nothing he was about to hear could be a good thing, but he meant to meet it fairly. At last he looked up, calm. “I mark you, Master.”
“The truth,” said Tsazr, “is that if you want to know what I heard in Xi’Matezh, go there.”
Meoraq’s breath fell out of him in a disorienting rush that was part relief and part disappointment, and for the life of him, he couldn’t have said which was the larger part. “Sir?”
“I can read the Word to you, Uyane. I can’t read it for you. Go on.” He rubbed at his snout some more. “Get out of my room. I’ll put my boots in the hall for you when I’m damned good and ready.”
Meoraq turned around at once, but paused after only a few steps. He told himself he was not defying a direct order as he had every intention of obeying it…right after he asked one thing. “Sir?”
“I ordered you out, brunt.”
“Yes, sir.” But his feet wouldn’t move.
“I give you a choice, Uyane, because I’m in that sort of mood, although not for much longer. Here it is. You can walk out of here right now without getting hurt, or you can stay and say what you want to say. I’ll let you and I may even answer, but I absolutely will beat you down for it.”
“What happened that made you think the doors at Xi’Matezh would open?”
Silence. It grew at his back until he was forced to turn around and face the slap.
This time, Tsazr gave it to him. Hard. But as Meoraq unsteadily straightened himself, Tsazr said, with singular bitterness, “Nuu Sukaga.”
And after everything he’d heard, that was still bizarre enough to make Meoraq forget the immediate pain throbbing through his snout. “Sir?”
“Nuu Sukaga. I waited eighteen years to say it and you are exactly right, Uyane. Those two words changed all the others. Now get out,” Tsazr said, sitting back down in the window. “Or you’ll be cleaning my boots from the infirmary.”
Meoraq went and since nothing more happened that day (it remained the longest and strangest conversation he was ever to have with Master Tsazr, who never mentioned it, or the name, if it was a name, of Nuu Sukaga, again), he let the memory go and brought himself gradually back to the present to think about what it meant.
Because each word did change the truth in all the others, and this memory did present an entirely new alternative to his present situation. Surely that was why Sheul had brought it to his attention so vividly.
“Honored one?”
Meoraq stirred and opened his eyes. He gazed into the light of the holy forge (which had been renewed at some point during his meditations, he saw), before turning an expectant eye upon the nervous usher who bowed beside him. “What is it?” he asked.
“The abbot sends his apologies for this intrusion on your prayers, honored one, but requests that you send your demands to the provisioner as soon as possible.”
“A reasonable request,” said Meoraq after a moment. “Have you the means to make a list?”
“Yes, sir.” The usher produced a wax tablet and stylus from the i
“Very good. Write small,” he advised. “And see to it my demands are sent specifically to Exarch Ylsathoc, for I know it was he and not the abbot who sent you to me, although I believe it is only the abbot who apologizes for it.”
The boy’s first mark in the soft wax was a meaningless gash of guilt. “Sir?”
“Foremost, I require a tea box,” Meoraq began in a musing way. “A nice one…”
5
Meoraq woke at the sound of voices while they were still in the hall. He raised his head without opening his eyes, listened until he had identified one in particular, and settled back into his bedding.
His door crashed open. “I don’t care if I wake him up!” Exarch Ylsathoc Hirut shrieked to someone in the hall. “I want to wake him up! I want him to explain himself and this…this insult!”
Meoraq smiled sleepily into his cushion.
Expensive-sounding slippers slapped rapidly across the room. A soft fist struck the mantle above his cupboard in the fearless ma
“Honored Sword of Sheul?” Meoraq suggested, still smiling.
“You get out here this instant!” the exarch screamed. “I demand to know the meaning of this…this…extortion! A new samr and kzung! I can see your old ones right there! There is nothing wrong with them! What is this? Boots! Buckles! A new tent! A quilted mat! Blankets, cushions, a new pack…and a full mending kit! What could you possibly need to mend when everything is new?”
“I like to be prepared for every eventuality.”
“Is that a joke? Are you joking at me? No, no, this must be the joke! An inlaid tea box?!”
“I trust you also received my list of favorite teas.”
“This is an outrageous abuse of power and I will not honor it! I refuse! You will have a brick of cuuvash and a change of clothes and nothing more from me! I am a son of Ylsathoc!”
Meoraq slapped his palm flat against the cupboard door and shoved it open. He leaned out, no longer smiling, and yanked the exarch down by the neck of his fine white robes until their eyes were on level. “And I am a son of Sheul,” he said quietly.
The exarch glared, breathing hard and fast, the color strong at his scrawny throat, but he said nothing.
“Honored one…” U
“But I do not ask the temple.” Meoraq released Ylsathoc with a shove and swung himself out of the cupboard to stand in the exarch’s place, naked and damned glad he was naked, just to see Ylsathoc flinch. “I ask the man who gave my name at the gate—what did I hear, six times?—and who ordered the sentries of my conquered city to carry me in to him as if I were his errant cattle! Do not speak to me of insult, priest. You will meet my demands and you will thank Sheul at every one that I ask only your material goods and not your fucking hand!”
He made himself stop there and take a slow count of six breaths before he really lost his temper. He’d had too little sleep…which was a poor excuse and he knew it. A Sheulek was supposed to be the master of his emotions at all times, even when dealing with insolent, self-important bureaucrats. If he had to wake up to someone this early, why couldn’t it be a woman?
‘And now I want a woman,’ he thought, striding to the table to reclaim his clothing. He didn’t mind being naked in front of another man as long as he looked intimidating while he did it. He minded very much being extruded and undignified.
“If the temple wishes to show its obedience, it can bring me hot nai and a meal,” Meoraq said, strapping on his loin-plate and cinching it biting-tight. “The exarch here shall see to my rations for travel, but he had best be quick about it. I mean to be on my way by fifth-hour.”
The abbot gave his assurances and bowed his way out. Ylsathoc watched him go and then watched Meoraq dress. His spines were stiff enough to quiver slightly with his pulse. The scales at his throat were still striped with yellow as bold and bright as paint.
“Have you something more to say?” Meoraq asked.
“Forgive me,” said the exarch, sounding anything but apologetic. “But how does the honored one expect me to meet his demands before fifth-hour? I did not come to Tothax with a tea box.”
“Inlaid,” Meoraq reminded him. “And I expect you to purchase whatever you do not have, the same as any other man must do when a Sword of Sheul takes his conqueror’s privilege. If I learn that you have turned my list into your own and demanded it as gifts from this city, I will see you judged for theft.”
The exarch was quiet for a time, although Meoraq could see the yellow patches at his throat moving with unformed words. At last, in a voice as edged as any blade Meoraq carried, Ylsathoc said, “I will have to purchase several things on credit to meet your demands.”
“So?”
More silence. More hard, hoarse breathing. More yellow.
Meoraq put his boots on and pretended not to notice or care. He waited, grimly enjoying himself and reminding himself to meditate on the cause of that enjoyment because it really was a terrible sign of his true character.
“My father will have to pay those notes.”
Meoraq finished buckling the last strap on his boot, then straightened up and looked the exarch directly in the eye. “You have your orders. Leave me.”
Ylsathoc managed half a stiff bow and then burst out, “This is spitefulness and nothing else! What did I do but my given duty in informing you of your House’s need?”
“You did not inform me,” said Meoraq. “You summoned me. And then you stood me in your borrowed chamber and dared to interrogate me, much as you are daring to protest to me now.”