The Silent Shield (Kingfountain #5)(52)

“Have you seen Gahalatine at the Forbidden Court?” one of them asked. “He is the most handsome man. He still has not chosen a wife.”

Another voice said excitedly, “He must choose one soon. The Mandaryn demand it. If he does not choose for himself, then one will be chosen for him from the zenana.”

“I hope he chooses me,” whispered a shy girl, eliciting peals of excited laughter.

Each step along the wharf toward the wall filled Trynne with excitement and dread. She did not know where she was going. She did not know how she was going to find Lady Evie. But she felt a growing confidence that the Fountain would guide her. Even though one wrong step could kill her.



The path toward the tower at the summit of the hill was sheltered by enormous trees bedecked with green spear-shaped leaves. Colorful birds with curved beaks perched in the branches, squawking incessantly, and the buzz of insects filled the air. She saw clouds of mosquitoes just off the side of the road, but there were none on the trail itself. The path was bracketed with stone obelisks carved into faces, and she sensed Fountain magic flowing from them.

Chandigarl felt like another world, and she was reminded of stories she’d heard as a child from Myrddin of other worlds that he had visited. None of the other girls craned their necks to see the monkeys clambering in the branches. But Trynne could not stop watching their antics as they pried fruit from the trees and hunkered down to devour them.

The air was so heavy with moisture that Trynne was sweating openly as she walked, but the loose silks of Reya’s clothes helped prevent her from overheating. The massive tower at the top of the hill loomed ahead, the decoration and carvings gilded with pure gold that dazzled the eye. She saw no men along the way, only women who bowed and greeted the newcomers as they passed.

As they came nearer to the tower, the noise of the birds and monkeys was joined by a sorrowful melody of flutes and lutes. Voices joined the instruments in song, though they didn’t sing words—they simply matched the pitch of the music.

A series of majestic fountains converged at the top of the hill, in front of the tower. Trynne stared with surprise as she watched shoots of water spurting up from the floor, forming pillars like upside-down waterfalls. There was an open pathway through the pillars, but the sound and the size of the display was impressive. The grounds of the zenana were larger than the palace of Kingfountain.

As she entered the tower, she felt the richness of magic, but there was also something strange in the air. It was difficult to define, but it made her wrinkle her nose. The opulence of the decorations was beyond imagining. Glittering chandeliers hung from the ceilings, and the marble floor shone with light. Trynne arched her neck, gasping when she saw that the tower was open in the middle, all the way to the sky overhead. On each floor, the rooms had been built around the open space, layer by layer, floor by floor. There were plants and birds inside the tower, man-made waterfalls, and decorative fountains more elaborate than anything in Kingfountain.

There were women everywhere she looked—most bent in conversation or showcasing some skill or other. Some of the women were hurrying about, delivering chalices and cushions and trays of fruit. The servant girls wore rich garments and displayed obsequious courtesy to those who had come to the zenana for sanctuary. But her first impression lingered. Something was wrong there. The sense wasn’t coming from a specific person or from an object, but it was persistent and undeniable.

The place had been built as a sanctuary for women. Reya had told her that the noble daughters of the realms Gahalatine had conquered had been brought there, and she could see that many of the women in the zenana were indeed of noble birth. There were girls with outlandish headdresses, some literally burdened with necklaces and bracelets that lined their arms from wrist to shoulder. An air of haughtiness, pride, and splendor pervaded the tower. Trynne saw women coming in and out of rooms on the higher levels. There were people everywhere. Her heart sank as she realized just how difficult it would be to find Lady Evie.

The servants offered warm greetings to the newcomers. One of them, a matronly woman who was beautiful and proud, approached Trynne. “Welcome, daughter, to the zenana of the Forbidden Court. You are from the deserts, if I judge you well by your appearance.”

“Thank you,” Trynne said, pressing her hands together and giving a little bow as she had seen Reya do.

A sudden whoosh of power and magic filled the air, and a Wizr appeared in the center of the fountain on the lowest level, his hand gripping a girl’s arm. Both the Wizr and the girl were unfamiliar to her, but she saw how very few of the people around her paid them notice. Everyone was talking, their conversation filling the air with noise and laughter.

“A new arrival,” the matronly woman said, noticing Trynne’s attention had been drawn away. “The Wizrs bring in girls regularly. You will get used to it.”

And then Trynne saw a figure dressed in a black cloak and a silver mask. He was walking along the outer edge of the room, away from the center, gazing at the women assembled, keeping to the shadows. Her heart quailed when she saw him, pricked by that sense of wrongness.

“Is that a Wizr?” Trynne asked, gesturing surreptitiously to the man in the mask.

The matronly woman turned, gazing out at the room. “Who are you speaking of?”

“The person over there. With the mask.”

The woman scowled a little. “Oh, he is one of the Mandaryn. They oversee the zenana. The only other males you will find here are guests invited by the emperor. There is nothing to fear.”