over it. It would be a terrible way to repay the woman for her goodness.”
Knowing so little of women, Ravishan seemed to accept Hann’yu’s story with no apparent suspicion. But John suspected that Hann’yu might actually have something to hide. It wasn’t just any woman who invited a strange man into her house and then who got up and baked him breakfast. Especially not in Basawar, where most women wouldn’t have gone near a Payshmura priest for fear of offending him in some manner. Hann’yu plainly needed a cover story even more badly than Ravishan and he did. Their mutual corroboration could shield all three of them.
“Why don’t we tell Dayyid that all three of us spent the night at the same hostel,” John suggested.
“That would be an excellent idea,” Hann’yu replied.
“It’s nothing.” Ravishan shrugged. “If the weather hadn’t been so bad, you probably would have been with us.”
“Yes, absolutely,” Hann’yu agreed. “The rain certainly came on suddenly.”
John didn’t know why, but a slightly guilty feeling crept through him at the comment, as if he were somehow responsible. Perhaps it was just that he had been so relieved that the storm had broken. If only it had come earlier.
They reached the hostel and found Dayyid. He seemed angry until he heard that Ravishan had not been alone. After that, he sent the three of them down to breakfast with a warning not to wander away before prayers. It went much more easily than John had expected.
He supposed that was because he wasn’t used to having alliances. He was accustomed to thinking of himself as a lone foreign man set against the world around him. But he had friends now and soon he discovered that he’d also gained a kind of respect.
He noticed it throughout the next two days at the fair when his fellow ushvun’im as well as several of the ushiri’im paid him passing compliments on his battle prowess. Samsango pronounced him Parfir’s protector of all men’s sisters. Ravishan grilled him about which holds he’d used to defeat a rasho so quickly. John noticed two other ushiri’im listening intently to his response, though Hann’yu looked immensely bored by the entire exchange.
After they returned to Rathal’pesha, the ushiri’im’s interest in him only seemed to grow. Most of them already recognized him from the times that he treated them in the infirmary. But after the Harvest Fair, they seemed overtly friendly towards him. In the halls of Rathal’pesha, they greeted him casually and struck up conversations with him as they would never have conversed with the other ushvun’im.
Soon it became obvious that they wanted to test their own battle prowess with him. John agreed to it, so long as they fought without blades. It was a good excuse to see more of Ravishan. Dayyid couldn’t criticize them for practicing battle forms together.
Familiarity with the ushiri’im gave John another advantage. They often allowed him into forbidden chambers, if he was walking with them. Slowly, over the course of several months, he gained access to room after room of Rathal’pesha’s greatest heights.
Soon he was familiar with the barrack-like chambers where the ushiri’im slept as well as the small treasuries where relics from Nayeshi were housed. Locked cabinets held tattered white T-shirts, work pants, a baseball and a wide variety of postage stamps. One glass case contained bills and coins from a scattering of years. The earliest John could find seemed to be 1940, but he didn’t look too long or too intently. He wasn’t supposed to be capable of reading any of it.
An ushiri named Ashan’ahma even pointed out that John’s ignorance rendered his presence in the sacred rooms harmless. “It isn’t as though he could carry our secrets to the Fai’daum. He can’t read a word of the holy script.” Ravishan had added his agreement to Ashan’amha’s and the matter had been settled among the ushiri’im. None of them mentioned it
Knowing so little of women, Ravishan seemed to accept Hann’yu’s story with no apparent suspicion. But John suspected that Hann’yu might actually have something to hide. It wasn’t just any woman who invited a strange man into her house and then who got up and baked him breakfast. Especially not in Basawar, where most women wouldn’t have gone near a Payshmura priest for fear of offending him in some manner. Hann’yu plainly needed a cover story even more badly than Ravishan and he did. Their mutual corroboration could shield all three of them.
“Why don’t we tell Dayyid that all three of us spent the night at the same hostel,” John suggested.
“That would be an excellent idea,” Hann’yu replied.
“It’s nothing.” Ravishan shrugged. “If the weather hadn’t been so bad, you probably would have been with us.”
“Yes, absolutely,” Hann’yu agreed. “The rain certainly came on suddenly.”
John didn’t know why, but a slightly guilty feeling crept through him at the comment, as if he were somehow responsible. Perhaps it was just that he had been so relieved that the storm had broken. If only it had come earlier.
They reached the hostel and found Dayyid. He seemed angry until he heard that Ravishan had not been alone. After that, he sent the three of them down to breakfast with a warning not to wander away before prayers. It went much more easily than John had expected.
He supposed that was because he wasn’t used to having alliances. He was accustomed to thinking of himself as a lone foreign man set against the world around him. But he had friends now and soon he discovered that he’d also gained a kind of respect.
He noticed it throughout the next two days at the fair when his fellow ushvun’im as well as several of the ushiri’im paid him passing compliments on his battle prowess. Samsango pronounced him Parfir’s protector of all men’s sisters. Ravishan grilled him about which holds he’d used to defeat a rasho so quickly. John noticed two other ushiri’im listening intently to his response, though Hann’yu looked immensely bored by the entire exchange.
After they returned to Rathal’pesha, the ushiri’im’s interest in him only seemed to grow. Most of them already recognized him from the times that he treated them in the infirmary. But after the Harvest Fair, they seemed overtly friendly towards him. In the halls of Rathal’pesha, they greeted him casually and struck up conversations with him as they would never have conversed with the other ushvun’im.
Soon it became obvious that they wanted to test their own battle prowess with him. John agreed to it, so long as they fought without blades. It was a good excuse to see more of Ravishan. Dayyid couldn’t criticize them for practicing battle forms together.
Familiarity with the ushiri’im gave John another advantage. They often allowed him into forbidden chambers, if he was walking with them. Slowly, over the course of several months, he gained access to room after room of Rathal’pesha’s greatest heights.
Soon he was familiar with the barrack-like chambers where the ushiri’im slept as well as the small treasuries where relics from Nayeshi were housed. Locked cabinets held tattered white T-shirts, work pants, a baseball and a wide variety of postage stamps. One glass case contained bills and coins from a scattering of years. The earliest John could find seemed to be 1940, but he didn’t look too long or too intently. He wasn’t supposed to be capable of reading any of it.
An ushiri named Ashan’ahma even pointed out that John’s ignorance rendered his presence in the sacred rooms harmless. “It isn’t as though he could carry our secrets to the Fai’daum. He can’t read a word of the holy script.” Ravishan had added his agreement to Ashan’amha’s and the matter had been settled among the ushiri’im. None of them mentioned it
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