Page 75 of The Ragpicker King
Kaleb seemed satisfied with this answer, although a faint muttering was passing among the children. Finally, Dara Malke, one of the older girls, put her hand up and said, “Exilarch. Will something bad happen to us Ashkar here in Castellane, the way it happened in Malgasi?”
Lin felt the question like an arrow in her heart. It was so unfair, that Ashkar children should fear such things. She could hardly remember the day she herself had realized that to be an Ashkar was to always be unsafe; to belong nowhere outside the Sault, but to know that walls could not entirely protect you. All she knew was that it had been a very long time ago.
Aron leaned back on his hands. He looked calm as ever, but there was a flintiness in his eyes that suggested to Lin he shared her anger. He said, “Lin Caster is here. Perhaps she can best answer your question.”
Lin nearly jumped out of her skin. Oh for goodness’ sake. Why was he pressing this responsibility on her?Because you claim you are the Goddess, responsible for your people,said a small voice in the back of her mind.
Sixteen pairs of young eyes were trained on her expectantly. Lin said, “In Malgasi, there was no Counselor to the throne as we have here in Castellane. And so the Queen and King of Malgasi forgot the Ashkar were people just like them. But you should not worry,” she added. “We have Mayesh here, who is often in the Palace and can speak for us there. The King will not harm us. He would not want to lose his Counselor or his reputation for kindness.”
There was a long silence as the children regarded Lin thoughtfully. At last Kaleb put his hand up again and asked, turning back to Aron, “Why do boats float when they’re so heavy?”
A smile spread across Aron’s face. Lin did not hear his answer; she was too anxious about her own. If she had put the children’sminds at ease, she could not tell. They seemed the same mixture of somberness and giggling that they always were, even as Aron bid them goodbye and sent them back out to meet their parents in the Kathot.
“That was a good answer,” he said once he and Lin were alone in the garden. He stretched, flexing his long hands. They were freckled on the backs, and freckles showed, too, at the open neck of his shirt. A reminder that unlike the Maharam, he lived most of his life under the open sky, not inside temples and judgment halls.
“Do you get that question often? About Malgasi?” Lin asked.
“In every Sault, I am asked some version of it, and not always by children. In most Saults, there is no one like your grandfather—no representative of our people to speak to the highest power in the land.”
“So what do you usually say?”
“I speak of home,” he said. He sounded a little stiff; the ease with which he had spoken to the children was gone. She had never been alone with the Exilarch before, Lin realized. It had never occurred to her that it was even possible he might be awkward, or diffident. “How there are others who have their lands, their homes, and they look askance at us because they do not understand a people who have no home. The selfish among them will say in fear, ‘But these people have no home; surely they will try to take ours.’ And I tell them to remember that those people are wrong. That we do have a home, in each other. We make our homes within, and not without; that is how we are different.”
Lin was silent a moment. She could hear the dry scrape of the wind in the leaves. “That is very pretty,” she said, “but it is not a promise, is it? It does not say,You will be safe.”
“Because I cannot promise they will be,” he said. “That is your task, Goddess.”
“Not mine alone,” she said. “The destiny given to the Exilarch is to walk beside the Goddess. To help her.”
“If she passes the test, yes.” His gaze was thoughtful. “Is that why you’ve come here? To speak to me about the testing?”
Lin shook her head. “No. I came because—well, you are a Rhadanite. Can you read their language?”
He looked surprised. Before he could say anything, Lin drew Fausten’s notes, much crumpled, from inside her jacket. She brought them to Aron where he sat on the bench.
“My parents were traders on the Gold Roads,” she said. “I think you knew that. And my brother is on the Roads now. I recognize this as the code of the Rhadanite traders, but I cannot read it myself. I never learned.”
Frowning, Aron took the papers from her. “Where did you get this?”
“In an old trunk of my parents’ things. Josit would be able to translate it for me, but he is far away. I have so little of my parents, I just hoped... well, that you could tell me what it says.”
He was silent, staring at the pages. Lin prayed quietly to herself that Fausten hadn’t made any notes that said things like,Today I have decided to poison the King. Surely a most excellent idea.She had no idea how she’d explainthatto Aron Benjudah.
At last, he looked up at her; only then did she realize she was standing over him, looking down at his bent head as she twisted her hands together. She had not meant to come so close.
He said crisply, “I do not believe your parents wrote this. Nor do I understand why you think you must lie to get my assistance.”
Lin bit hard at the edge of her lip.Do not show him he frightens you.“Not every secret I know is a secret that is mine to tell.”
“You are a curious person, Lin Caster,” he said, folding the paper in his hand. “I was surprised by your answer to the child’s question. Benezar has always given me to understand that you did not like Mayesh’s job very much.”
“I have begun to understand, in these recent days,” Lin said, “that sometimes we are chosen to do things we do not wish to do, but that if we do not do them, there will be no one to take our place.”
“You ask two of the Three Questions,” Aron said, rising fromthe bench. In the pale moonlight, his hair and eyes seemed bleached to a lighter gold. “If not now, when? If not me, who?” His gaze swept over her, considering. “You are a conundrum. Those I have met before who laid claim to being the Goddess all sought attention and validation. You seem to dislike one and have no need of the other.”
“I recall the Third Question,” said Lin. “All the world is a narrow bridge. How, then, to cross it without fear?” She looked up at him; she’d nearly forgotten he was so tall. “I have no answer to that. I am often afraid. Even now, you make me afraid.”
“Do I?” His expression was stern, cool. Distant. “Lin Caster, I will translate these papers for you on one condition. I would like to join you on your physician’s rounds and observe your work.”
