The Killing Moon (Dreamblood #1)(44)

“I doubt—” But she did not finish her doubt, for the curtains stirred again and the Gatherer stood there, framed in the breezeway door. Her eyes widened. Saladronim followed her gaze, caught his breath, and stumbled back.

The Gatherer inclined his head to each of them, keeping his movements slow and making no move to enter. That drove back Sunandi’s terror enough for her to unclench her throat, though she still had to swallow before speaking. “Priest. You nearly scared the life out of us. Or is that your intention today?”

“The abeyance holds,” he said to her. His eyes fixed on Saladronim. “Please forgive me for attempting to deceive you, but I had need to speak with this woman.”

Saladronim opened his mouth and squeaked, then cleared his throat. “I won’t allow you to harm Jeh Kalawe. She is a guest of my father.”

Sunandi almost smiled at Saladronim’s bravery. He reminded her of Lin, though Lin would never have shown such bravado unless she had a weapon hidden to back it up. To her surprise, the Gatherer’s face softened for a moment as well.

Thinking of his apprentice killer, no doubt.

“I will not harm her,” the Gatherer replied, and Sunandi almost relaxed before she remembered that he didn’t consider killing her to be harmful. “May I enter?”

That calmed her at last. Gatherers never begged pardon or asked leave when they were on Hananja’s business, which meant he’d come here for his own purposes and not the Gathering. She hoped. Saladronim glanced at her, querying; after a wavering instant, she nodded. Taking a deep breath, the boy nodded as well.

The Gatherer stepped over the threshold, flicking the curtain back into place behind him. As he did so, Sunandi recalled Saladronim’s words: he didn’t look right. No he did not, she agreed, noting that the Gatherer still had on the same loindrapes he’d worn two nights before. He looked more exhausted than the heat could account for, his shoulders slumped and movements noticeably sluggish. In Yanya-iyan, she had guessed his age at around forty floods—though it had been hard to tell for certain, for he and the Prince shared the same peculiar, handsome agelessness. Now he looked all of his years and then some.

Intuition sparked understanding and she said, “They’ve turned on you, haven’t they?”

His head jerked up and he stared at her in something like hatred, but that lasted only a moment before pain replaced it. He looked away.

Answer enough. She took a deep breath and decided to try diplomacy for a change. “Your apprentice?”

He shook his head, eyes fixed on the floor. “I am alone.”

“And why have you come?”

“To return to the Hetawa and my life, I must complete your Gathering.”

He said it gently, yet the words sent a chill through her in defiance of the afternoon’s heat. Beside her, Saladronim stiffened.

“You said I was still in abeyance,” she said.

“You are. I don’t accept bribes. Not even when the offer is peace, which…” The Gatherer closed his eyes and sighed. “Which I crave more than you can imagine. But it would be a false peace if I simply Gathered you and went back now. I have too many questions.” He focused on her. “I require your aid to find answers.”

Sunandi nodded to cover her shock. She glanced at Saladronim. “Go inform your father that he has another guest.”

Saladronim stared at her in mute disbelief. She stared him down, and after a moment he shook his head and trotted out of the breezeway. She heard his feet slap against the stone steps on the way down, and bet herself three gold coins that he would creep back up to eavesdrop.

But for the moment they had the illusion of privacy, so she turned her attention back to the Gatherer. “It’s not my place to offer you hospitality in this house, but I know its owner and he follows true guest-custom. He would not want you to stand when you so clearly should sit.”

He hesitated; for a moment she thought he might refuse. But then he moved to the other couch in the breezeway and sat across from her, straight-backed and formal. “Thank you. My path… we sleep in the daytime.”

“Civilized of you.” She relaxed enough to fan herself, hoping that would encourage him to relax as well. “So you want my aid. I don’t know if I can give you the answers you seek, priest. I’m woefully short on such things myself. All I can offer is information, and I have nothing new to tell you since last night. I might be able to send you more, once I reach Kisua.”

“What sort of information?”

She gave him a thin smile. “Are you certain you want to know? All the information was gained through corruption.”

He shook his head. “Corruption is a disease of the soul, not mere words or information.”

She would have liked to argue that point, but knew better. “Kisua has a network of spies throughout this continent, the east, and in the northlands. Some are common folk. Some have rank, like myself. All that we know, we send back to the Protectors.”

“And you believe they would therefore know something of Gujaareh’s Reaper? Why would they care?”

She stared at him in frank surprise. “Every nation from the icy reaches to the southern forest watches your land, priest. Some watch to imitate or compete, but most watch out of fear. Gujaareh is too powerful and too rich and too strange. Those who live in the shadow of a volcano would be fools not to watch closer, when it starts to smoke.”