~o~
7
Secrets
"Qu'ros sarbar na tralos barquir," the woman hissed. The fur on the back of her neck stood straight up. With her ears flattened and her teeth bared, she looked positively alarming. Peliah couldn't help but compare her to a wild sabre cat.
Kazagh sprang to his feet. "Qua'an wai! This one means no harm."
The woman's eyes narrowed when Kazagh reverted to Dunmeri. "Ja'wai! Kun jurnos itar murnozzar a sistar!" she spat, jabbing a finger at Khiri.
Kazagh shook his head. "This one is different. Kazagh would not put the sister in danger. The mother knows this."
But the mother only hissed.
Khiri pulled the lollipop out of her mouth and waved it happily. "A marbar!" she chirped. "Raju aj nalar a jai na." She gestured toward Peliah.
The girl's mother didn't look pleased. On the contrary, she looked like she wanted to rip the contaminated lollipop out of her daughter's mouth.
Though she was slightly fearful of being attacked at this point, Peliah felt the need to defend Kazagh. "Please, I'm so sorry for intruding," she said. "I asked Kazagh to bring me down here. I didn't mean to upset anyone. I was curious, is all."
The woman looked at Peliah as though she were unsure of what she was. Her beetle-green eyes were wary. She opened her mouth once, then closed it.
"Peliah, this is the mother, Naba," Kazagh suddenly said. "She is doing the cooking. You spoke to her once before, no?"
Peliah hardly thought that this was the time for introductions, but she curtsied. "I'm truly sorry," she said. "I didn't mean—"
"Sera," Naba said, looking up suddenly, "do you know how long it's been since a dunmer is setting foot down here?"
Taken off guard, Peliah shook her head.
"One-hundred years or more. There was one bad slave. He was hiding in the cellar and the old Serjo came looking for him." Her eyes flashed. "He dragged him out and whipped him till the blood ran down. The Serjo would not let anyone tend to him, or they would get the same, he said. He left khajiit to die, chained to a post."
Peliah gaped at her.
Kazagh looked at his mother with wide eyes. "A marbar..." he whispered.
She silenced him with a look. "My dirar, predecessor, is telling me this."
Peliah looked at the floor. Shame flooded though her, hot and strong. She couldn't bring herself to look into Naba's eyes again, or Kazagh's, for that matter.
"J'urno kazabar turno aj quir nazzagar," Kazagh suddenly said in a hard, biting voice. Peliah looked up quickly. Kazagh was standing between his mother and the elven maiden with his ears pressed flat against his head and his teeth bared.
Naba shook her head. "She is to blame, Kazagh," she said in apparent disagreement with whatever her son had said. "They are all to blame."
"No," Kazagh snarled. "Only those who cannot forget."
A profound silence hung between them. Naba studied her son very seriously, her bright green eyes locked upon his. After a moment her knees went weak. She sank to one of the beds and buried her face in her hands.
Kazagh's demeanor changed instantly; his ears shot forward and he rushed to his mother's side and touched her shoulder. "A marbar?" he inquired.
She shook her head.
Peliah wasn't sure what Kazagh had said to his mother, but it had certainly upset her, whatever it was. She didn't emerge from behind her hands for some time, and when she did, her eyes were red-rimmed and wet looking.
She looked straight at Peliah. Then she stood and addressed her. "The son said that you are different—that you wish to befriend khajiit. This one has a hard time believing this is so. You see, she has never met a dunmer she could trust."
"I know. I mean, I believe you. Neither have I."
Naba regarded her in silence. Her tail lashed back and forth. "You are a strange one, Sera."
Peliah gave her a weak smile. "I know."
"What would Serjo say of this, I wonder?"
"He doesn't have to know," Peliah said stoutly. "I don't belong to him."
Naba gave her a disapproving look. "The daughter should respect the father."
Peliah thought about that for a moment. Finally she said, "I'll respect him when he deserves to be respected."
To Peliah's great surprise, Naba merely considered this for a moment, then smiled. "You are a rebel. Like my Kazagh," she said, rumpling the fur on her son's head. "But as for this one, she cannot forget. She has seen too much. But if Kazagh can… maybe he will find luck in this friendship."
Kazagh smiled at his mother. Then he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up off the ground. From the corner of the room, Khiri giggled with delight.
"Mu'runo bar," Naba laughed. "Enough foolishness. This one must return to the kitchen."
Kazagh put his mother back on her feet. His face was aglow with happiness. "Or'njo, a marbar," he murmured.
She patted his cheek. Then she turned and left the room without another word.
Khiri sprang up and ran to Peliah's side. She thrust her tiny, fury hand into Peliah's and beamed up at her, still slurping on her lollipop.
Kazagh looked at her in surprise. "Well, little Khiri is not so bashful anymore."
Peliah smiled and squeezed the girl's hand.
"Kazagh," Khiri said, "let us be showing this one rasannabar!"
"Rasannabar? What's that?" Peliah asked, turning to Kazagh.
"It is 'sliding.' Khiri, aren't you having work to do?"
Khiri put her hands on her hips and cocked her fuzzy head. "You are having work to do, too!"
Kazagh threw his head back and laughed. "This is true. Alright, come Khiri and Peliah. We rasannabar."
~o~
As Lady Peliah of House Dres sailed down the chute, her long train—the hem now hopelessly tattered—flew out behind her, and her hair whipped along like a dark bird. Again and again she had to resist the urge to scream. The speed was exhilarating.
She flew out of the end of the chute into Kazagh's awaiting arms. His laugh rang out, echoing off the high stone walls surrounding them. Khiri jumped up and down, laughing and clapping her hands.
Kazagh spun around in a tight little circle. Peliah squealed a little and clung to his neck. "Stop! I'm already so dizzy," she pled.
Kazagh laughed and dropped her in the pile of dirty laundry at the base of the chute. "Well then! Is this one having a good time?"
"Oh yes!" Peliah cried, rolling out of her father's dirty underthings and clambering to her feet. "I can't believe I've lived here my whole life and never known out about all these chutes. They're such fun!"
"Such fun! Such fun!" Khiri echoed, jumping up and down, her wee tail lashing with excitement.
"Where is this one thinking the laundry is going when she is throwing it into a hole in the wall?" Kazagh wondered, his eyes twinkling down at her.
Peliah grinned and shrugged. "I don't know. I suppose I never thought about it before."
"Hurujo m'jar," Khiri suddenly said. She sprang into one of the seven holes in the wall and scurried up it. Peliah knew that she would use her sharp little claws to climb up the chute, her tail lashing out behind her.
Since she didn't have any claws, Peliah had a much harder time climbing up the chutes than Kazagh and Khiri did. But Kazagh had been more than happy to allow her to cling to his shoulders. When they reached the top, Kazagh slid down first. Then Peliah followed.
After several hours of sliding down the chutes, Peliah was tired, sweaty, and downright disheveled. She smelled of dust and there were spider webs in her hair. To top it all off, she could feel a big bruise growing on her knee where she'd smashed it on the floor when she missed the pile of laundry at the bottom of the chute. Yet she knew that she had never had such an enjoyable afternoon in all her life.
"This house is full of such secrets," Kazagh suddenly said. He turned to Peliah, smiling mysteriously.
Peliah knew that he was playing with her, but she couldn't resist the bait. "What kind of secrets?"
"This one could tell." Kazagh reached up and twisted his whiskers between his fingers. "Or he could show Peliah."
Peliah's heart leapt. She knew that she should get back to the party. She wouldn't be missed much, but if her father decided he wanted to give some sort of speech and Peliah wasn't anywhere to be found, there was sure to be trouble. It would be foolish to prolong her absence any further.
But Peliah had spent so much of her childhood reading stories of danger and adventure and mystery, dreaming that some day some such novelties might come into her life and swoop her up like the heroine of a grand story. When Kazagh looked at her like that, his expression still and careful but his eyes hopeful that she might embark on a wonderful adventure with him, her common sense dwindled away to nothing.
A peal of laughter tumbled out of the end of the nearest chute, and a moment later, so did its source—a ball of black fur. Khiri sprang up from the pile of laundry giggling, her eyes bright.
"Khiri, this one is showing Peliah the secret place. Will Khiri stay here, on the lookout for the mother?"
Khiri's smile faded a little. She twisted her head to the side as though she didn't quite understand.
"Sunjora isi Khiri a'rir aquint hezzen a Marbar?" Kazagh said in his honey smooth rasp.
Khiri looked from Kazagh to Peliah, then smiled again, her stubby whiskers splaying outward and her pointy teeth showing. "This one is going on the lookout," she announced, "This one is going on the lookout so Kazagh is lizznaba a marisa pretty Peliah!"
Kazagh looked away in embarrassment. He picked little Khiri up by the scruff of her neck and set her down so that she was facing the other way. "Go stand by the door," he said gruffly, giving his sister a light spank. She giggled and ran down the hallway, tossing a look over her shoulder that was more gleeful than apologetic.
"What did she say?" Peliah asked, smiling lightly.
"Nothing," Kazagh huffed. Without another word, he grabbed Peliah's hand and dragged her to the only chute they hadn't slid down yet. "Come. This is the fastest way."
~o~
Kazagh and Peliah tumbled into a dingy gray room. Peliah clambered to her feet and looked around. At first she didn't recognize the place. Dusty sheets covered the furniture. Black curtains covered the windows.
She padded to the center of the room, leaving footprints in the dust. There stood a large rectangular something, covered by a sheet. Peliah grabbed the edge of the sheet and pulled till it slithered to the floor.
The rectangular something was an easel. And on it was a nearly finished paining. Peliah twisted her head to the side, leaning closer, her eyes growing round.
The brushstrokes were fat, heavy things. Together they created a sea of yellow sand, stretching far away until they melted into the hazy horizon. In the middle of the rolling sea of sand stood an oasis, where tents made of hides surrounded a pool of water. The water was so precious and blue, the horizon so wavering, that Peliah's tongue seemed to swell in her mouth with imaginary thirst.
The girl looked around the dingy room. It all came flooding back to her. She wished she could cover up the painting—make it sink from the surface of her thoughts.
"Peliah?" Kazagh asked. His voice was soft, careful.
"I came here once," Peliah whispered. "I was looking for her. She told me to go away."
Silence rang through the room. "Who?" Kazagh ventured.
Peliah sat down in the dust. There seemed to be a sort of tightness, a pinching in her young breast. "My mother."
Kazagh placed a hand on Peliah's shoulder. She hadn't heard or sensed his approach. When he spoke, his voice was very tender. "She was the painter. The mother—Naba—is telling me this."
Peliah looked around. There were stacks of canvases leaning against the walls, their surfaces cloudy with dust. "Have you looked through all of them?"
"Yes. Some are beautiful. Many are sad."
It was quiet again. Peliah wasn't sure if she wanted to see any more. She looked at the unfinished painting on the easel again. There were little figures penciled in by the spring. Who were they, she wondered? Why were they there, in that desolate looking place?
"It is Elsweyr," Kazagh murmured, gesturing toward the painting.
Peliah looked at him in astonishment. "How do you know?"
"The Mother is telling me," he replied. "She has seen Elsweyr, Peliah. It is where she is born, where she is always wanting to return."
Peliah gaped at him. Then she shook her head. "But how could it be? My mother never saw Elsweyr. Noblewomen don't go slaving. Besides, she was so young when she died. It can't be Elsweyr, it just can't."
Kazagh shrugged. His eyes were soft and round.
After several minutes, Peliah stood up and shook some of the dust off her skirt. Kazagh sensed that she was ready to go and took her hand in his. Instead of leading her back to the laundry chute, though, he took her into dark, dingy closet.
"Kazagh," Peliah griped as she brushed a large spider from her shoulder.
"Just a little further," he said softly.
At the back of the closet, he felt around in the dark. Peliah stood quiet until she heard a loud crack. Then sunlight spilled across her face.
Dunmer and khajiit stepped out onto one of the largest and grandest balconies that Peliah had ever seen. It hung over what must have been, at one time, a beautiful garden, but what was now nothing but a patch of weeds atop a roof.
Peliah looked about her in astonishment. "I never knew there was a garden on the roof," she breathed.
Kazagh smiled at her. "Khajiit is coming out here to play with his brothers at night, when he is very small."
The view was incredible. There were more rooftops than Peliah could count, stretching to the ashy horizon line, smoke curling from their chimneys.
Peliah closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I wish I could fly," she whispered. "I'd fly away from here. I'd fly to a place where there's no ash in the air. Where the sky is blue."
"Don't open your eyes," came a gentle voice in her ear. Without warning, Kazagh slung her over his back. Eyes screwed shut, Peliah wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her face into his furry cheek.
He dashed down the steps and into the garden. Peliah kept her eyes closed, but she could feel the wind playing in her hair, which had long since come loose. A giggle escaped her lips. "Don't you drop me, Kazagh!"
"No, never."
They raced around the rooftop, the wind rushing past them as though they were sailing through the clouds. Peliah smelled the sweet aroma coming off Kazagh's fur and for a moment she really did believe that she was flying far away from Tear.
When Kazagh was too tired to carry Peliah anymore, he tipped her into the grass, laughing and panting. Then he dropped down beside her, where she lay looking up at the rosy, late afternoon sky. Behind a thick layer of ash, the sun burned red.
"Why do you think my mother painted that picture, Kazagh?" Peliah murmured.
The boy propped himself up on one elbow, his manner instantly somber. "Maybe… because she is the mother. Peliah's mother."
Peliah turned her face toward him. "I don't understand."
"Well… why is Peliah befriending khajiit?" Kazagh said.
Peliah's eyebrows pulled together and her mouth flattened into a thin, hard line. "It's not the same thing," she said. "She was a bad person, Kazagh. An evil person. She was one of them."
Kazagh shrugged. "Maybe. But the pictures she is making—they are one of the reasons why khajiit is trusting Peliah in the first place."
The elf could only stare at him in amazement. Her blood red eyes shone.
"Maybe this mother is like Peliah," Kazagh said softly. "Not bad. You see?"
The sun crept across the sky and Peliah buried her face in Kazagh's neck. Her tears disappeared into his fur and were lost forever. He was only a boy, but he knew of the sorrows of his people and he knew Peliah's heart and forgave her, as he had already forgiven her, and would continue to forgive her for the rest of his life.
Finally he took her chin between his fingers and lifted her face from the safety of his fur. "It's alright," he whispered.
Looking back, Peliah wasn't sure if she'd been the first one to lean forward, searching for that first kiss, or if it had been Kazagh. But their lips met under the red sun and the heiress of House Dres would live from that point onward for Kazagh, son of the sands.
