Kushiel's Avatar - Jacqueline Carey [282]
By the time we reached Meroë, the rains had begun to ease. All along the flooded banks of the river, village farmers measured the waters and watched, waiting for their retreat. Once the waters had receded, they would plant cotton and millet. The sun shone brightly, longer each day, and the drenched earth steamed.
Meroë.
The city seemed almost like an old friend, after our long journey. Everything I saw—the mighty burial pyramids, the traders' caravans with their long strings of camels, the inner walls of the royal palace, the embroidered capes of the soldiers, even the oliphaunts, whose platter-sized feet lifted from the mud with great sucking sounds—appeared familiar and welcome. Tifari Amu escorted us to the very hotel in which we had first stayed, and bartered with the hotel-keeper to give us the finest suite of rooms.
"Rest here," he said, "and avail yourself of all amenities. I must report to Ras Lijasu, but he will doubtless wish to see you on the morrow."
It was strange, after so long in company, to part; yet another farewell! Tifari and Bizan, we would likely see again, but not the bearers, who would take the Ras' payment and return to their families. I kissedthem all in parting, overwhelmed with emotion. Joscelin withdrew the much-shortened chain of trader's coin he wore beneath his chamma and gave a gold link to each.
"It is not much," he apologized in his faltering Jeb'ez, "but only for thanks."
The quietest of the bearers, Bomani, tried to give it back. "It is not necessary, lord," he said. "The Ras has paid us. And you have far to
go."
"It is necessary," Joscelin said firmly.
"I will keep mine," Nkuku said, clapping Joscelin on the back, "and remember the man who would dance with the rhinoceros! No wonder I fell into the thorns!"
There were a good many more jests before we parted—Nkuku had some sly advice for me having to do with snakes and bathing-pools— but in time, they left. And each one made a point of bidding Imriel farewell, treating him as a near-equal.
Well, and why not, I thought; he has earned it.
Our rooms were spacious and pleasant and dry. I cannot convey what luxury that was, to one who had not spent countless days waterlogged and sodden. For the first time in my life, I was almost loathe to visit the baths, reveling in the absence of water against my skin. After I did, I was glad of it, and gladder still to be wrapped in a thick cotton robe, clean and blessedly dry.
Most of our clothing, alas, was ruined, save for the peasant garb we had been given in Debeho. The Lugal's gifts; the celadon riding-attire that Favrielle nó Eglantine had designed; the rose-silk gown with the crystal beading—all spoiled, the fabric rotted with moisture. I beheld it with dismay.
"It's only clothing," Joscelin said, shrugging. "You hold the Name of God, Phèdre. Does it matter what you wear?"
A sharp retort was forming on my tongue when a knock came at the door, proving to be a considerable train of servants sent on behalf of Ras Lijasu, who had received word of our return. And they brought with them an array of gifts—sweetmeats, scented oils, sundry fruits, and bolts of fine cloth, with a deferential tailor to take our measurements.
"Yes," I answered him when they had gone. "In Meroë, it matters."
We dined well that night and slept in a proper bed in clean, dry sheets that had been scented with orange-blossom, with a solid roof over our heads to keep out the rains when they began, falling as relentlessly over the city as they had the plains and mountains.
And I slept like the dead until Imriel's nightmare roused me.
It was different, this time; not the inhuman, rending screams of before, but a choked, fearful moaning. "I'll go," I murmured to Joscelin, clambering out of our bed and struggling into my bathing-robe. I made my way to the smaller room we'd allotted Imriel, stumbling over a footstool in the dark. Faint starlight filtered through the unshuttered windows. He was thrashing, entwined in the bedclothes. I perched on the edge of his pallet, keeping my voice gentle. "Imri.