12x03
Please, Chelesta, don’t make me go in there, Acorn begged, attempting to burrow deeper into Twiggy’s pocket, away from the gate to Cauldron. It stinks!
Twiggy moved him to her bodice, where she thought he might be a bit more sheltered from the odor. I agree, Acorn, Cauldron is not the best-smelling city in the world, but—
Not the best? the mouse interrupted. It’s awful and offensive and I think it’s even worse than those derro caves. And those were derro! How can civilized people live in this stench!
Twiggy tried to tune him out. They had made a promise to escort Nyoko home to Cauldron. And it was entirely possible that the prophecy required them to be here. They were going to have to find a library and do some research as soon as possible. In other words, they were going to have to go into this strange city whether Acorn liked it or not.
… I can’t even fathom it! Rotten eggs and dirt! It’s not only disgusting, it’s…
With a smile, Twiggy accepted the bottle of strong herbal perfume that Savina had purchased from a nearby stall. The merchants here at the Gate were clever: they knew that non-locals would want something to mask the smell, and their offerings were diverse. This scent, in fact, was quite pleasant. Ginger, and plum, and something else… She dabbed it generously under her nose and on her chest, where she thought it might help Acorn.
Forget the dabbing! Acorn urged. Just dump out the bottle and let me climb inside!
They entered the Gate, and the city spread before them like a great wheel. Grand estates and government buildings lined the outer rings, and roads led like the spokes of a wheel down toward a large, steaming lake in the center. It was the only city Twiggy had ever heard of where the wealthy neighborhoods and the government buildings were on the outskirts, and the poorer parts were lakeside.
Nyoko had offered them the hospitality of the Adepts for the night, and as they walked along one of the uppermost streets, Twiggy realized just how generous an offer that was. The Adepts’ complex—Nyoko pointed it out as they approached—looked as beautiful as the Estate back in Pol Henna, but (of course) much larger, and in the Sovereign style. Exquisite topiaries lined the walls at the entrance. Nyoko had a conversation with a guard, and after a short wait, a man—elderly, but fit and well-dressed—approached the entrance.
“Nyoko-san,” he said, “We are glad to see you safe.”
They bowed to each other, and then—to Twiggy’s surprise, and it seemed even to Nyoko’s—the man broke the formal mood with a hug. Nyoko whispered something in the man’s ear before stepping to the side.
“I am Lord Miyosho Masa,” he said, addressing the group, “head of the Adepts here in Cauldron.” He bowed again. “We welcome our most honored guests from afar. Please, come in.” He led the group into a large and elegant courtyard, edged by low buildings with sliding doors and wide, polished wooden verandahs. The grounds were magnificently well-kept, from the manicured grass to the stone walkways and the statues of well-toned Sovereign figures. From the activities around them, Twiggy took the surrounding buildings to be classrooms, libraries, and dormitories. Like the Sorcerers’ Academy, thought Twiggy, but so very different. In the courtyards, groups of all ages gathered—some sparring, some wrestling, some dancing, some reading.
A young man showed them to one of the dormitories, and the rooms where they would be staying. Each of them—except Arden, who would stay with the servants—was given a room. Twiggy’s had pristine floors, a low bed with a soft mattress, a table with an orchid plant, and an elegant silk robe laid out on a chaise longue.
One of the servants knocked. “I have brought you fresh clothes,” she said, holding a heavy silk skirt, an embroidered top, and a wide-sleeved robe. Twiggy looked down at her own garments—torn, mended, torn again, muddied, bloodied, washed, muddied again—and felt relief in her very core. “Thank you,” she replied. “Thank you.”
“Would you like me to draw you a bath?” the servant asked, holding out a small basket of flowers, soaps, and oils. “You must be weary from your travel.”
I take back everything I said before, thought Acorn.
###
“. . . all other respects, the journey was unremarkable,” Nyoko finished, bowing slightly.
“Unremarkable?” Lord Masa-san asked, cocking an eyebrow. He had cocked an eyebrow when she mentioned the Spring, as well—and the heathens’ decision not to kill some of the derro who had attacked there—but the cocked eyebrow was as much expression as he displayed throughout her report. If he felt anything beyond interest, he did not show it. Lord Masa had trained Nyoko to witness objectively, and when it came to witnessing and hearing the testimony of others, he was a master of objectivity himself.
Frankly, his cocking an eyebrow was the equivalent of any other man goggling and spluttering for five minutes.
“What do you know of the honored heathens’ purpose in the Sovereignty?” Lord Masa asked, his eyebrow returning to its customary position.
Nyoko considered for a moment all that the heathens had—and had not—told her. “They are following the destiny of one of their number,” she replied.
Lord Masa did not pry further. “We owe them a great debt, and if we can aid them in this endeavor, we shall,” he responded. “I look forward to seeing you, and them, at supper.”
He turned to leave, but then turned back with a softer demeanor. “I am glad to see you, Nyoko.”
His voice was kind, and tinged with relief. She knew this voice: it was the voice he had used so many years ago, when he had found her. When he had found the remains of the caravan from her village, and her, the sole survivor. At age three, she had been too young to Witness then—but she had always had a good memory, and she remembered everything. The strength of his hand as he reached out to help her up, the intensity of his eyes as he noted every detail of the scene, the tone and cadence of his voice when, weeks later, he invited her to train as an Adept . . .
“I am glad to see you,” Nyoko replied.
###
After a good scrub, Tavi decided it was time to get a handle on Sovereign politics and culture. With his sword at his side, he headed out to the courtyard. There, he found a group of Adepts doing practice-forms, and asked to join in.
He held his own. (“Well practiced for a heathen” wasn’t exactly what Tavi was used to hearing, but as he gathered from his time with Nyoko, it was quite a compliment.) As they sparred, he asked about how the Sovereign government was set up. They said more or less what Nyoko had, but here in this courtyard, it came into focus, like the components of a spell meshing together or the soft underarm of an opponent coming into view.
(**Note: see sidebar concerning Sovereign governmental structure, below.**)