can tell the difference before it’s too late.”
Mesema’s ears burned, but she kept her head down and followed close on the guardsman’s heels. The corridor ended in a dark entryway, and she recognised the temple of the terrible god, Herzu. Her stomach clenched with hunger. She longed for the smell of rain and the sound of Banreh’s voice. The god would not let her pass without reminding her of these things.
The guardsman led her down a new corridor. On the wall to her left, thousands of tiny stones formed a battle scene: warriors of jade and onyx, raising swords behind their king. The king wore red, and his eyes gleamed topaz. On the other side of a great green field waited the enemy, their white robes flowing, their faces flat and indistinct. She kept the dagger across her belly, shielding the blade behind her arm, the point nearly at her elbow. Fighting the pattern was not the same kind of war, but already Eldra had given her life and Sarmin his blood. Would she have the strength to use her weapon when the time came? She picked up her pace to match the guard’s strides. She would have to be strong. She had promised Eldra, and now Sarmin had promised her.
They climbed stairs laid with the plush carpet of the women’s quarter. At the top the guardsman opened his mouth to speak, but a glance along the corridor stopped him; he threw himself into obeisance, and when she stood, confused, waved her down beside him with some urgency. Mesema turned her head ever so slightly on the carpet, squinting for a glimpse. She had spent quite enough time with her face pressed to the ground—a lifetime’s worth, in just a few days.
Five men approached the steps, a white-faced man in blue robes and four soldiers in blue. Each looked lost in his own thoughts, sad, confused. What had happened? They paid her no attention. The man in blue looked everywhere, but saw nothing. His eyes searched for something else. She saw his face for a moment. It was narrow, touched with some of Beyon’s features: the strong nose, the wide mouth.
The man passed and went down the stairs, the soldiers behind him.
Her guardsman stood with caution. “Go on, quickly—and don’t wander again. This is not a night for it.”
He left her without another word and hastened after the men.
On the far side of the landing stood a wooden bench piled high with cushions. Mesema had just one more hallway to cross, but suddenly she felt too exhausted to move. The bench reminded her of her longhouse bed. She could have curled up among those cushions and slept for a week, if her stomach hadn’t been twisting with hunger. Instead she grabbed a cushion, cut it open and shoved her dagger inside. The cushion was not stuffed with wool, as she had expected, but fine white feathers that rose in the air like snow. She hurried on, not pausing until she passed the grand staircase and saw the heavy carved doors. What would they think, to see the Felting woman in a torn dress smeared with Sarmin’s blood, carrying a ripped pillow? The sound of soldiers on the stairs gave her no time to think. She pushed against the wood and ran through into the women’s wing.
Lanterns cast low light, glimmering off the golden trim in the ceiling. Nobody sat on the cushions or wandered the dark corridor. All the women must be sleeping. Mesema rubbed her tired eyes. There were so many doors, she could barely remember which was hers.
Under the window, as high as her hips, stood a green vase with a golden lid. Perhaps she could hide her dagger inside until the morning? She leaned down to open it. A familiar scent tickled her nostrils and brought her back home to her mamma, sitting in the longhouse that last day. She reached in and touched the contents to be sure.
Her mother needn’t have given her the resin for stopping babies. They had enough of it here, at the palace. That was why Beyon had no heirs: they’d been denied him.
When a Felting girl showed herself barren, she became the property of her father and brothers for ever, forced to play whatever role they decided she should play. But perhaps for Beyon the opposite was true: if he played a role, then they would give him a child.
But he hadn’t, and so they had turned to his brother and