Page 117 of The Ragpicker King
A great sense of the unfairness of the situation comes over Lin. Ashkar are taught from the cradle to participate in mending the great wounds of the world, which is rife with injustice, cruelty, and prejudice. To strip someone of their faith and their people, of the very fabric of who they are, solely because of who they love, seems to Lin a great injustice in itself. How can a people who have been forced into exile inflict exile on their own?
But what of other crimes? What of those like you and like Asher, the son of the Maharam? Those who dabble in forbidden magic?whispers a small voice in her mind, but Lin banishes it: She is with a patient now, and her own concerns are not to be dwelled on.
“Hush,” says Lin. “You loved someone. You made a home for them; since then, you have lived a life of peace and solitude. You have done no harm in this world. I have no doubt that when you pass into the world to come, the Goddess will welcome you.”
It is true. She has no doubt, and she can say that now in a way she would never have been able to do even half a year ago.
This time, Talia manages to smile. She watches with sunken eyes as Lin takes a scarf from her bag. It had been her mother’s and was embroidered with the words of the Great Prayer.
She puts the scarf in Talia’s hand, wrapping the other woman’s fingers around the fabric. The prayer had been embroidered in gold thread:THE GODDESS IS ONE;SHE WILL RETURN.
These are the words that are supposed to follow the Ashkar wherever they go, that are meant to be inscribed over the gates of every Sault, that are meant to be held and carried with them from this world into the next.
Talia’s eyes are closed. Under the weight of her hand, the edges of the scarf flutter lightly with her shallow breaths. It will not be long now. Putting aside any misgivings, Lin begins to recite the Prayer for the Dying in as soft a voice as she can. “Go, for the Goddess sends you. Go and she will be with you...”
CHAPTER TWENTY
After she returned from rounds with Aron, Lin prepared to leave for the Black Mansion to collect the King’s medicine from Merren. When she stepped out the door, she found that a folded piece of parchment had been laid upon her front steps. Sure that it was something to do with her upcoming test, she opened it to read three words scrawled in an elegant hand:
We must talk.
And beneath, initials.
C.A.
Conor Aurelian.
Her heart was beating as if she had been running, and the taste of metal was in her mouth. She crumpled the parchment in her hand and cast it into the fireplace before slamming the door behind her on her way out.
Kel and Conor were seated on the floor of their room playing Triumph for copper pennies. Kel’s luck that afternoon had been abysmally bad. He squinted at the cards in his hand, willing them to improve. He had the Witch, the Vine, and the Ship, but the more powerful cards—the Sorcerer, the Chalice, the Sunderglass Tower—had so far eluded him. Conor was almost certainly going to win.
At another time, this would have pleased Kel. Conor hated to lose but was sensitive to beingallowedto win. Currently, however, he was playing with very little attention, having discarded both Lotan’s Sword and the Tower without seeming to have noticed.
He had been distracted since yesterday’s Solstice Ball, which continued to puzzle Kel. Whatever had happened when Conor left the Armory had troubled him greatly, and though he and Anjelica had made a great show of enjoying the rest of the evening together, Kel knew it was only acting—on Conor’s part at least.
He had tried to gently inquire as to what had happened, but Conor had only put him off, always changing the subject; Kel supposed Conor would tell him when he was ready. Or he would forget all about it; either eventuality seemed entirely possible.
He set down the card of Gentleman Death, which always made Kel think of the Ragpicker King. Of course, Gentleman Death was smiling, and the last time Kel had seen Andreyen, he’d been exasperated.
Kel, Merren, and Ji-An had been forced to return to the Black Mansion after questioning Ciprian Cabrol and admit that they had offered Ciprian the protection of the Ragpicker King. Andreyen had not been pleased. “Protectionis vague. Did you specifywhatI was offering him? Am I now to share my home with Ciprian Cabrol and his entire family?”
“There are plenty of extra rooms here, if that’s what it comes to,” said Merren.
Andreyen looked upon Merren with resignation. “Merren, I do not expect you to understand why this would annoy me,” he said. “But Ji-An—you are not usually so liberal with the use of my name.”
“I was caught up in the moment,” Ji-An admitted. “We’ve been spending too much time with Kel. He only has reckless ideas.”
Kel made a noise of protest.
“Well, don’t offer things in my name without consulting me first.” Andreyen slumped back in his chair. “Still, it was an interesting gambit on your part. I will be curious to see what comes of it.”
Conor threw his cards onto the floor. He was sitting with his back propped against the frame of a divan, his eyes circled in shadows. Kel had heard him tossing and turning through the night. “I give up,” Conor said. “I cede victory. Have every penny.”
Kel was not interested in the pennies. “But you’re winning, Con.” He fanned out his pathetic cards. “See?”
Conor’s mouth twitched up at the corner. “Thosearebad.”
“I was telling you—”
