Calling Up the Fire by Martin Lori

Author:Martin, Lori [Martin, Lori]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2014-09-23T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

Scayna saddled up her army horse and went beyond the gates of MenDas in the new morning light. She had been returned to her former Band; Chilhi Bhanay had muttered a welcome and

looked away. Tomorrow they would begin the journey to Lindahne. The holding-house was an ancient building, constructed in the misty time of the infamous Shadow Tribune, who had tried to consolidate his power through murder, false arrests and unspeakable tortures. The many holding-houses he had left behind still stood, most still in use, though the chambers of pain had been sealed off.

The house was as famous now as its new prisoners, the former lin queen and the disgraced Tribune Nichos and his family. Curious groups stood here and there around the granite walls; occasionally they drew together to chant insults up at the narrow slanting windows high above.

Accustomed as she was to the three-storied artisan buildings of the capital, Scayna was taken aback by the structure’s height. It was a fortress of grey glaring rock. She could see it far down the approaching road, as she passed little knots of stragglers. These people were the kin of the house’s ordinary prisoners; they were permitted to bring small gifts or letters from time to time. Each parcel was opened and inspected by the gate guards, each letter read in full, and it was well known that half the gifts never made it to the intended recipients. Actual visits with the prisoners were forbidden.

She reined in her horse before the entry gate and watched the pathetic procession of kinfolk. A ragged bearded man stepped up and handed over his bundle. One of the guards stripped off the outer covering and shrugged: some sort of heavy clothing, which had evidently seen too much use to be of interest to him. The garment was flung on a growing pile; the next person was waved up. The ragged man stepped back, glancing up the rock face. He ran his fingers along the surrounding wall, feeling the stone. Another guard ordered him to be off.

She watched him limp down the road, wondering who he loved, and might never see again, in this twilight world. A burst of laughter went up from a group of curiosity-seekers; the regular visitors ignored them. Scayna glanced over. They were staging a cruel pantomime, a highly inaccurate re-enactment of Nichos’s arrest. The woman acting as his lin-wife fell into an elaborate, comical faint. The crowd roared again.

Her eyes shot up to the high windows. The holding-house brooded sightlessly, unmindful of the disrespect. It had been here before them. It would be here after.

She didn’t ask herself why she had come, and the ancient building did not question her either. She only wondered if the former queen was happier in her new surroundings – a strange thought, perhaps, until you considered the consuming loneliness of her previous confinement. And poor Tribune Nichos was imprisoned again, after such a short release; would the Mendale guards be as kind as the

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