Idol of Glass (3 page)

Ra barely noticed herself slipping to the ground as she let herself be obliterated in the burning fire of Shiva's punishment. When her body went slack, Shiva stepped back and tucked the switch into a sheath at her side to observe Ra for a moment. Satisfied with her efforts, she let Ra lie bleeding on the heather, conjuring a couch to recline upon while Ra's awareness of the pain and of herself ebbed and flowed from vagueness to agony and back again.

The sound of Shiva's voice swam toward her out of the gray after some uncountable time, jolting Ra back into herself so sharply she almost screamed. “You are an interesting creature, MeerRa. Shall we move on?”

Raising her head to focus on Shiva's impassive face and long limbs, Ra moaned her answer. “
Nai.
Vetma, ai
MeerShiva. Please. Again.”

Five: Divulgence

Finding a ship leaving port this time of year for the Deltan coast was no mean feat.
The Lady's Bounty
, on which both Ume and Cree had crossed the sea to the Eastern Continent on separate voyages, had already made its last return. The only option was a steamship—the first of its kind—an entertainment excursion for the very wealthy that harnessed the innovations begun by MeerAlya years ago in
Soth
In'La. Ume, fortunately, had managed to conclude her post as Pearl's attendant at the temple at Szofl with a generous pension from the governor, who seemed relieved that the young Meer had apparently moved on to greener pastures.

Ume purchased tickets on the
Deltan Dream
for the crossing. The rest of its passengers had signed on for an inaugural cruise of the Deltan coastline and the Anamnesis River, and she and Cree traveled, for once, as a married couple without question. And traveled in style.

Cree watched Ume navigate the microcosm of elite society with fascination—and a fair amount of arousal. It was a bit intimidating to be among such cultured folk, but she found her awkward reticence was taken for just the right amount of aloof ennui. Deltans were a novelty to these people, and though some spoke a smattering of the universal dialect, most had only learned a few travelers' phrases, which allowed Cree to sit back and enjoy Ume basking in the attention.

A glass-walled salon along the port side of the promenade deck forward of the stacks became the favorite spot for socializing, where passengers could watch the sunset without facing the brisk ocean breeze. Cree generally read while Ume entertained her admirers, charming them with her winsome attempts to converse in Szofelian.

Wine and spirits flowed liberally on these evenings, and no one could induce others to imbibe too much while avoiding inebriation herself quite the way Ume could —though she made it appear she matched her companions drink for drink. Watching Ume over the top of her book, Cree couldn't help but smile at her antics, though reading would become increasingly difficult as the evening wore on and the entertaining grew louder. At this point in the revelry, Cree often stepped out onto the promenade for a smoke, mindful of the irony of calling this “going out for a breath of fresh air.”

On one such evening early in the voyage, as Cree put away her tinder box and leaned her forearms on the rail to puff on the slim Szofelian cigar, another passenger took up a spot against the railing just aft of her. Instead of a tinderbox, he took out a tin of chewing tobacco and helped himself to a pinch. Cree thought the habit rather crass and was a little shocked that anyone aboard the cruise ship would engage in it. She turned away from him toward the glass wall, leaning back against the rail, and watched Ume trying to pantomime some Deltan word, to the amusement of her admirers.

Cree's unwanted companion tucked his chew behind his lip before addressing her. “Has them wrapped around her little finger, doesn't she? Quite the performer.”

Cree took the cigar out of her mouth and turned her head, prepared to tell the Deltan to fuck off, and stopped short. She knew this man from somewhere.

At Cree's surprise, he doffed his cap. “In fact, she had me convinced you'd parted ways because of your differences over her affinity for Meer.” He tongued the wad of tobacco into place. “Said you didn't understand her obsession and wanted no part it in.”

Cree narrowed her eyes and lowered the cigar to her side, pushing away from the railing. It was that damned Meerhunter, Pike, who'd kidnapped Pearl and set him up in Szofl in the first place. “What the hell do you want?”

“Same thing I always want. A bounty.”

Cree stubbed the cigar out on the railing with an angry jab. “Well, you're barking up the wrong tree. It has to be obvious to you by now that Ume doesn't know anything about the Meer you're hunting.”

“Oh, on the contrary.” Pike smiled. “Didn't she tell you? The boy was having visions of MeerRa herself, raising temples on Munt Zelfaal at the outer edge of the
falend
. That bit of very useful information won the little Meer his freedom, in fact.” He spat over the rail out the side of his mouth while he let this knowledge sink in. “Yet he isn't on the ship with you. Curious.”

“What I find curious is that you seem positively obsessed with my wife. Everywhere she goes, you seem to turn up.”

Pike shrugged. “Seems to me it's everywhere the Meer go,
she
turns up. I imagine that galls you. Doesn't it, dearie?”

Cree bristled and made a move toward him, prepared to cuff him for the deliberately belittling address, but the glass door swung open, and laughter spilled onto the promenade as a pair of inebriated couples stumbled out. At a sudden swell, one of the women let go of her companion and weaved across the deck to grab the railing next to Cree, tipping precariously close to her, to vomit in a semi-ladylike fashion into the ocean. While Cree maneuvered swiftly out of her way, Pike managed to disappear.

Through the glass, Cree could see Ume's smiling, animated face as she leaned over a matron's ungloved hand, reading the lines on her palm. Palmistry was her other little gift—the first being her unparalleled skills in the bedroom—and one she'd used from time to time to make ends meet on their nomadic existence. She was obviously enjoying herself and hadn't even noticed Cree's absence. Not that Cree begrudged her the attention. Well, perhaps she begrudged her just a little. But Ume wouldn't miss Cree if she turned in early, and right now Cree had a bit too much to digest to be able to stomach sitting at her side playing the bored husband. She could read just as easily—more easily—in bed.

She headed back to their stateroom, forgetting she'd left her book in the salon until she was already inside. Reading wasn't really what she'd wanted to do anyway; it would only have been an easy excuse to explain her absence when Ume eventually came to bed herself.

Cree stripped down to her union suit—it was downright chilly out here on the high seas at night, and she'd wear it if she wanted to, no matter how Ume teased her—and threw herself onto the little bed, resting her chin on her folded arms as she gazed out the porthole. Pike had obviously wanted to get under her skin. And he had. Why wouldn't Ume have told her about giving up MeerRa? It wasn't like her to keep things to herself. Although, how could Cree really be certain of that? If Ume were keeping other things to herself, Cree wouldn't know. Ume, as Pike had said, was highly skilled at showing whomever she was with whatever it was they wanted to see.

The more disturbing question was why Ume had given up MeerRa to Pike in the first place. Ume had been furious when Cree had given Pike the name of her new friend Jak back in Mole Downs last year to get him to leave Ume alone, even though Cree hadn't told him anything he couldn't have figured out on his own. Pike had already discovered the name of Jak's moundhold at Haethfalt and had heard the whispers that a stranger from the Delta was hiding there. But it was the principle of the thing, Ume had insisted, as she'd scolded Cree later. Turning anyone over to a bounty hunter just wasn't done. And certainly not to a Meerhunter.

That other little needle Pike had jabbed her with was also smarting. Ume had told him they'd separated because Cree didn't understand her obsession with Pearl. It was obviously just a story Ume had used to gain Pike's trust at
Soth
Szofl, but it hadn't been that far from the truth. Cree had been in denial about Pearl, and they'd fought about it more than once, Ume wanting to go find him when they'd discovered he was Cree's son, and Cree adamant that she wanted to stay as far away from the boy as possible. It had gotten to the point where Cree dreaded being alone with Ume for fear of the subject coming up once more, and she'd gone off on a fishing boat for weeks at a time just to avoid her own conscience. And her conscience was apparently named Ume.

At the turn of a key in the lock on the stateroom door, Cree started, as if she'd been doing something she didn't want to be caught at. She considered pretending to be asleep when Ume opened the door, but kicked herself mentally. She was acting like an adolescent. They'd promised to always be honest with each other, and being dishonest with Ume because she was upset that Ume had lied to her would solve nothing.

“Cree?” Ume peered at her as her eyes acclimated to the dim room. “What are you doing in here in the dark? I didn't even realize you'd left until I turned around to ask you something clever and found you'd dematerialized and left nothing but a book.” Ume winked and tossed the volume onto the dressing table. “And here you are waiting for me, all sensual and alluring in that fabulous wool number.”

Cree couldn't help but smile, though she'd wanted to be stern. Ume was an expert at disarming her—even when she didn't know Cree was armed. “I ran into someone we know on the promenade when I went out for a smoke. I told you I was going, by the way. You just weren't listening.”

Ume was barely listening now, her fingers working through the laces of her bodice in the maddeningly alluring way she did almost everything. “Someone we know, you said? I didn't know we knew anybody.” She paused in her unlacing and glanced up. “Not the Hidden Folk?”

“No, not the Hidden Folk. I would think they'd find it difficult to swim all the way out here from the nearest woodlands just to mess with us.” Ume had undone the bodice and was wriggling out of it. Cree was going to have to hurry up and get to the point before she was thoroughly distracted. “Pike is on board.”

That got her attention.

Ume paused and stared at Cree, the shaping bodice abandoned on the floor and her chest bare above the gold chiffon skirt and bustle. “Pike?” Her hands went to her hips, accentuating her slender waist, and in the moonlight through the porthole, her amber eyes glittered like a cat's in the dark. “What the hell does he want with us?”

“That's exactly what I asked him. But it seems it's not us he wants at all. Apparently, he's headed west to the
falend
.” Cree waited to see if Ume would react. “I don't suppose you know why he'd be going there?”

Ume's face gave her away for once, her brows drawing together in an unhappy furrow. “Damn.” Her fists uncurled on her hips. “I'm sorry, Cree. I didn't want to upset you with details about Pearl's—about his illness. But I should have told you exactly what happened to him.”

Cree rolled onto her side, head propped on her fist. “Happened to him? The Hidden Folk said his blood had been poisoned by the things he heard through his Meeric connection. You didn't tell me anything different.”

Ume sat beside Cree, pulling up the skirt and crinoline to cross her legs on the bed. “It
was
Meeric poison. But it was more than that. He was channeling the poison from beyond himself. In essence, he was possessed.”

Ume proceeded to tell her of the drawings Pearl had done, tapping into Ra's madness from across the sea. The Hidden Folk had shown Cree a vision of the thoughts in Pearl's head—dark thoughts of stabbing Ume and killing and feeding on his own subjects. It was Ra's reality. On Munt Zelfaal beyond Haethfalt, she'd raised an ancient city, people and all, and had engaged in acts of unimaginable cruelty and madness against them. And Pearl had drawn it.

“It's how he sees the world,” said Ume. “The pictures come to him through other Meer's thoughts, and he depicts them as if compelled. It's what he's always done. Nesre used him as a sort of bellwether for any Meeric activity that might reemerge in the world. That's how he knew Ra had returned, and why he sent Pike after her.”

Cree felt the low ache in her womb that had been there since the day she was told the babe she'd been carrying had died. Remembering how Pearl had come into the world as a tool for Nesre's schemes was bad enough, but she'd tried not to think of what Pearl's life had been like. Now it was before her as Ume had described it from her brief glimpse of Pearl in captivity before Ra had destroyed Nesre and set Pearl free: Pearl, born in his glass box—where Cree had been drugged and Pearl forcibly delivered. He'd been denied human touch and human companionship, prevented from ever hearing human speech, taught only to draw. It almost killed Cree to think of it.

“Sweetheart.” Ume stretched out her legs on the blanket and lay next to her, tucking her arms around Cree and her head against Cree's chest. “I'm sorry. I know it hurts you to hear about it. But that part of his life is over. Whatever purpose the Hidden Folk have for him, they're surely treating him with kindness.”

“You can't know that. They're no better than Nesre.”

“I do know it, love. They may be no better than him in their intent, but they were as outraged at Pearl's treatment as we were. I don't think that part was a lie.”

Cree held Ume to her, resting her chin on Ume's hair. “But they can't love him.” The word surprised her. She hadn't realized she could love him without knowing him at all. And yet she did.

Ume said nothing, simply understanding her, her touch conveying that without words. That was her gift, Cree realized.
Touch
. It was how she managed to use both palmistry and sex to give others pleasure or comfort. Ume had always been a believer, not in the divinity of Meer, but in the divine nature of the sacred art she'd practiced in MeerAlya's temple. Of course, she'd changed her mind about Alya's divinity in the end. Seeing was believing.

Cree closed off that line of thought and put together what Ume had been saying. “That's why you gave her up to Pike. MeerRa is mad.”

Ume nodded against her. “I didn't see any other choice. I have no illusions that Pike can stop her. But it no longer seemed wise to protect her. It was Pike's price to set Pearl free. I'd just made the deal with him when you…” Ume's voice trailed off, a silent indictment, even if she professed not to blame Cree for her actions.