Cybele's Secret - Juliet Marillier - Cybeles Secret

“Don’t call me ignorant!” I snapped. How dare he? My scholarship was my one great strength, and to dismiss it thus was, in effect, to call me worthless. How would Stoyan know anyway? A man like him was incapable of understanding how far learning could take one. “A man who earns a living with his fists should not be so ready to dismiss the opinions of an educated woman,” I added. It came out sounding terribly pompous, and I was instantly ashamed of myself, but it was too late to take it back. The silence between us was almost vibrating with tension. After a while, when the time of devotions drew to a close and the street began to fill up with folk again, we walked back to the han an arm’s length apart, and neither of us spoke a word.

Run! My chest heaved. A cold sweat of utter terror chilled my skin. Which way? Openings yawned to the left and right of the dark passage. I stood frozen a moment, then chose a path at random and pushed myself on. Ancient webs draggled down to cling in my hair; small things skittered around my ankles and crunched under my feet in the gloom. Run! Run! A strong hand gripped mine, tugging me forward. Behind me pounded the heavy feet of the pursuers. They were gaining on us. Run! But I could go no farther. I bent double, gasping, and my guardian’s hand slipped out of my hold. The darkness descended. All was shadow. Which way was onward and which way back? I thought I could feel the enemy’s breath hot on my neck. His steps had slowed. Now his tread was the prowl of a creature about to pounce….

“Father!” I cried out. “Stoyan!” I sat up abruptly, my heart going like a hammer. Beyond the door of my tiny sleeping chamber, nothing was stirring. Perhaps I had shouted only in my dream. One thing was certain—I wasn’t staying in here by myself one instant longer.

I threw on a cloak over my nightrobe and stumbled out to the gallery, almost walking into Stoyan, who was standing by the railing, fully dressed.

“Kyria,” he murmured, stretching out his hands to halt my wild progress. “You walk in your sleep. Come, sit here.”

I obeyed. Seated on one of the little chairs overlooking the darkened and empty courtyard, I couldn’t stop shaking. It had all been so real—the shadows, the flight, the menacing presence….

Stoyan crouched in front of me as he had the first time I met him and put his big hands around mine to steady me. Gradually the shivering subsided and my breathing slowed.

“Kyria,” he said, “the night guard has a little brazier down below and a kettle. I will fetch tea for you. You wish me to wake Master Teodor?”

“No, please, don’t worry him. I’m fine. I had a nightmare, that’s all. I just don’t want to be by myself in there right now. Did I scream?”

“No, kyria, or more than I would have woken. Sit quietly. I will not be far away. You can see the man from here, and his fire.”

“Thank you. Tea would be good.”

What he fetched tasted more like sugar syrup than anything, but I drank it gratefully. The glass shook in my hands. Stoyan refilled it without comment. At last he said, “This happens often? Night terrors, sleepwalking?”

“Night terrors, no. My sisters used to tell me I walked in my sleep. They kept our bedchamber door bolted so I would be safe. There are lots of steps at Piscul Dracului, and some of them are very uneven.”

“Piscul Dracului. That is a strange name for a house.”

“It’s an old castle in the forest. The name could be translated as Dragon’s Peak or Devil’s Peak. It’s isolated. Full of strange surprises.”

Stoyan nodded, not pressing for further explanations.

“That dream was horrible,” I said. “Someone was chasing me. Underground, a dark, deep place with many ways and no map to say which was right. I knew the moment they caught me they would kill me.”

He took my hand again. Here in the darkness, with the city sleeping all around us, the rules of custom that would have made this improper didn’t seem to apply. His touch warmed me.

“You spoke my name,” Stoyan said. “Your father’s, and then mine. In your dream.”

“I was awake by then. I’ve never been so glad to wake up.”

“I could swear you were still asleep when you walked out here. I thought you would go over the railing.”

“It felt so real. Someone was holding my hand, pulling me forward. And someone was coming after us….”

Stoyan got up, fetched his blanket, and put it around my shoulders over my cloak. “Better?” he asked.

“Much better, Stoyan. Thank you. I’m sorry to be such a nuisance and disturb your sleep. I don’t usually go to pieces like this. I’m generally quite a capable person.” His opinion of me must have plummeted today. First my unpleasant remark on the walk home, and now this.

“I know you are capable, kyria.”

“Stoyan?” It was time to swallow my pride.

“Yes, kyria?”

“I’m sorry I was so unpleasant to you before, when we were walking home. What I said was inappropriate and offensive.”

“You are forgiven. Besides, I am your hired guard. You may say whatever you wish to me.”

“It doesn’t give me an excuse for bad manners. I’m not used to servants, Stoyan. I felt quite awkward at Irene’s house when she told me some of her folk are slaves. At home, the old couple who look after things for us are viewed as part of the family. Occasionally, if they’re feeling put out about something, they address me as Mistress Paula, but mostly they just use my name.”

“It sounds a good place, this Dragon’s Peak.”

“It’s an interesting place. Both the castle and the wildwood around it are very old.”

“You are fortunate to have so many sisters still living. And now some have husbands and children, Master Teodor tells me. Your father is blessed.”

I wondered about that. There had been sorrows aplenty for Father: the death of our mother when Stela was born, the tragic accident that had claimed Uncle Nicolae, the loss of my sister Tati to a realm from which she could never return. But what Stoyan said was true all the same. Jena’s and Iulia’s children had brought a new richness to Father’s life.

“The five of us were very close, growing up. We had exciting times. Adventures.” I would not tell him of our visits to the Other Kingdom. We guarded that story with great care for fear of being misunderstood. “Do you have brothers or sisters, Stoyan?”

“Perhaps you should try to sleep, kyria. It is late.”

“I don’t want to sleep. I’m afraid the nightmare will come back. But there’s no need for you to stay awake with me.”

“I will stay.”

He leaned against the wall by my chair, arms folded. After a little, he said quietly, “I had two brothers. One died at five years old in an accident. The other was taken in the dev shirme, the collecting. You know of this?”

I shook my head. “Tell me,” I said.

“The Sultan sends a Janissary, a senior officer of the army, as his representative to certain lands under his rule. This official travels with the purpose of taking a levy in boys who have not yet reached manhood. In this way, a supply of pure, healthy, and biddable slaves is maintained for the sultanate. Some go straight to the palace; some are sent to work for wealthy families until a position is found for them, generally as soldiers. Some endure surgery. A eunuch, unable to father children and limited in his capacity for physical desire, is regarded as a suitable person to guard the Sultan’s women or educate their sons.” He saw me wince and added, “My mother tried to hide us, me and my younger brother, but we were found. It is their policy not to deprive a widow of all her sons. I was allowed to remain at home. But Taidjut was taken.”

I struggled for the right thing to say, imagining what it must have been like for young Stoyan. What a burden for a boy to carry, not just grief and family responsibility but probably misplaced guilt as well. “How terrible for you and your mother,” I managed. “How long ago did this happen?”

“Taidjut was ten years old. He will be a man of eighteen now. I was too young to go after him then, only a boy myself. I have waited a long time to start a search for him. The farm is more prosperous now, and my mother does not need me all the time. Once I was sure she had sufficient help, I came here. When I was not in service to Salem bin Afazi or to others before him, I sought news of my brother. But there are places in Istanbul where an unbeliever, an infidel, cannot go, houses to which he cannot be admitted, secrets to which he can never be party. There are records, but they are beyond my reach. I do not think I will find Taidjut now. And if I find him, perhaps he will not want to know me.”

“But you’re his brother! Surely—”

“They have had eight years to educate him, Paula, eight years to impress on him that he is no longer a Bulgar farm boy running about with his dog and chopping wood for his mother. In all likelihood, he is serving somewhere in the Sultan’s army, grateful to those who offered him this fine new opportunity.”

The sorrow and resignation in his voice made me want to weep. “That’s a sad story,” I said. “When we lost Tati, my eldest sister, at least we knew she would be happy, even if we could never see her again. Do you plan to return home eventually, Stoyan? To go back to being a farmer?”

“I do not know. To do so is to give up hope of finding Taidjut. I made a promise to my mother that I would not return without some news at least. This journey has changed me, Paula. I cannot see the future with the clear eyes of my childhood.”

“What does your mother grow on the farm?”

I saw him smile then.

“Many fruits: peaches, plums, apricots, and cherries. I would like you to taste our cherries. The winter chill makes the fruit as sweet as honey. Later in the season, there are pears and apples. And we breed dogs.”

“Really? What kind of dogs?”

“The Bugarski Goran, the shepherd dog of my homeland. A hound of massive build and formidable strength, of great heart and exemplary loyalty. Such an animal is an honored member of any household, treated as if he were one of the family. Ours is a land of many wolves. With dogs like this, the flock is safe. My hope for the future is to breed a purer dog, true to the ancient bloodlines. If I go back.”

Though it was dark, I could see how his eyes came alive with enthusiasm and the way he used his hands to illustrate with surprising grace. There were hidden depths beneath that impassive exterior. A sweet kernel shielded by a tough shell; dancing fire concealed in stone.

“I am boring you, kyria,” he said suddenly.

“No, you’re not. What you have to say is interesting.”

“You, too, have an interesting story,” he said, surprising me. “Where did this sister go—Tati, is it? Where is so far away that you speak of her as if she were dead?”

I swallowed. “I don’t think I can tell you,” I said.

There was an awkward silence. Stoyan stared into space. Beyond the complicated outlines of the roofs of Istanbul, the towers and domes and minarets, the moon now set a pale gleam over the city. It showed his strong features as a pattern of light and shade.

“You apologize,” he said softly. “And yet you do not trust me.”

“It’s not that. It’s a story we don’t tell, that’s all.”

“There is no need to excuse yourself, kyria. I spoke too freely. I presumed too much.”