Dark Journey. Susan Krinard
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child’s a dhampir, yes. Did I not tell you that we have mixed couples in Tanis? Not as many as I would wish, perhaps, but it is a new beginning.”
“Have you ever had a child, Isis?”
She was too surprised to be angry over the impertinent question. “You know it is possible?” she asked.
“I learned in the Citadel that Opir women could give birth in a mating with a male human. It was kept secret because no Opiri wanted to admit that a female of their kind could have a child by a serf.”
“Then you know the origins of the Darketans.”
“Humans call Darketans ‘Daysiders.’” He looked keenly into her eyes. “Unless you spent all your time since the War wandering in the wilderness, you know that the Citadels take them from their mothers when they are hardly more than infants and treat them little better than serfs, even though they rely on them to do their daytime spying in the zones around the Citadels.”
“We do not do that here,” she said. “Our Darketans come to Tanis to live full lives as equals. And female Opiri in Tanis can choose to have children by human males if they wish. There’s no shame attached.”
“And how often has it happened?”
A sharp pain struck Isis’s heart as she spoke. Yes, she could have borne a child, if she had ever found a male human for whom she could care deeply enough. But she had never sought one out. It had always been her work to nurture others, and bearing a child would bend her attention away from those who most needed her.
“It’s ironic that the Citadels never objected to the wartime practice of Opiri males forcibly impregnating human females,” Daniel said.
Ironic, Isis thought. Hypocrisy. She was hardly proud of what Opiri had done during the War, even though she had never been part of it.
But Daniel’s voice had hardened, and she wondered why the subject seemed so personal to him. He claimed he didn’t hate Opiri, but his words suggested otherwise.
“Why did you wish to know if I’d ever given birth?” she asked, quickly changing the subject.
“It seems as if it would be natural for you.”
She relaxed. “Is that a compliment?” she asked.
“It’s clear that you would love your children, as all these people seem to love you.”
Her mind flew directly to his accusation that she used her power to influence others. Isis was tempted to end the tour there, even though Daniel had hardly seen any of the city. But he was already walking on, his gaze quick and probing as he looked up and down the streets.
She caught up with him. “What is it you wish to see?” she asked.
“Another neighborhood,” he said. He paused by the small Lawkeeper station situated at the northern border of Bes’s ward.
“What is this?” he asked.
“There is a Lawkeeper station set up at every border between wards,” she said, feeling once again as if she had to justify Tanis’s laws. “We find these to be practical locations, and they can easily be found by any citizen.”
“Then they aren’t meant to hinder movement between wards?”
“Of course not! Any citizen may visit any part of the city.”
“And are stations located in the Opir wards as well as the human ones?”
“Naturally,” she said, “though the stations are located at the base of every tower except the one inhabited by the Nine.”
He seemed satisfied with the answer, and they continued past the guard station into the next ward.
It was overseen by Hera, who, Isis knew, very seldom visited her people. Isis rarely came here herself, and almost at once she noticed that something was not quite right. There was refuse in the streets, and no planters of flowers and greenery near the doors. Even the buildings themselves were in less than optimal condition, seamed with cracks and even a few broken windows.
Daniel was staring at one of the buildings, his face expressionless. “Is this one of your bad neighborhoods?” he asked.
“There is no such thing in Tanis,” Isis said, struggling to conceal her shock. “Every citizen receives the credits he or she requires to live comfortably, though work beyond the basic requirements can be used for nonessential goods.”
“It looks like someone forgot to give these people their share of the common wealth.”
Isis was appalled. Hera should never have let things come to such a state. She was the advocate here. Even though she kept her distance from humans, there was no excuse for her failing to care for her charges.
“I will speak to her at once,” Isis said.
“Speak to whom?” Daniel said, a grim set to his mouth.
“The sponsor who looks after this ward.”
“And who is that?”
Isis was very reluctant to name names, but she could not bring herself to withhold the information. “Hera,” she said. “Clearly, she has been neglecting—”
“Hera, Isis, Ishtar,” Daniel said, his forehead creased in thought. “Who are the others?”
A human boy appeared on the street, a boy of an age where he would soon move from the schoolroom to his chosen work. His clothes were slightly worn and ill-fitting, and when he saw Isis he stopped suddenly and stared as if she were taking Daniel’s blood right in front of him. His expression grew pinched, and he quickly disappeared around the corner of the nearest cross street. Other humans, some older, gathered nearby and gave Isis the same sullen, almost unfriendly stare. Many of them wore Hera’s peacock sigil somewhere on their shirts, though they clearly had no reason to thank her for their current circumstances.
One of the larger males moved toward Isis, and Daniel stepped between her and the human. He stared the man down, and he retreated, followed by the others.
Isis touched Daniel’s arm and led him back toward Bes’s ward. Daniel’s muscles were taut as if he wanted to resist her, perhaps even return and speak to the angry humans.
Hera, Isis thought, what have you done?
This would have to be brought to the Nine’s notice, regardless of Hera’s likely animosity. The others would see that she did not fail in her duty again.
But that would not erase Isis’s memory of the looks those poor people had given her. She could not remember the last time a human being had shown her even the slightest hostility.
“Why did they stare at you like that?” Daniel asked, echoing her thoughts.
Isis latched on to the first safe explanation that came to mind. “It is nearly time for the Games,” she said.
“The Games?”
“Twice a year the human wards hold competitions,” she said. “Did you notice the badges on some of the humans’ shirts and uniforms?”
“I noticed them. Peacocks.”
“Hera’s symbol. When the Games are near, many humans wear the emblems of the Elders to represent their teams.”
“Only humans?”
Isis glanced away. “There was a time when Opiri participated, competing among themselves. Now they only observe.”
“What kinds of competitions?” he asked.
“Racing, jumping, older games that humans remember from before the War.”
“No fighting? Wrestling, boxing, martial arts?”
“No!” She stared at him. “We do not condone violence.”
“Then those people were hostile