The City of Zirdai

by Maria V. Snyder

  Too tired to think anymore, Shyla rolled up the map and crawled under a fur in what she was beginning to consider her room.

  She woke before angle zero determined to find Rendor. They would have another conversation. Although she knew he wouldn’t be at his parents’, her curiosity wouldn’t let her not check out where they lived. Using the power of The Eyes, she tricked a guard into pointing out their suite of rooms on level eighty-four.

  Once again she waited in a shadow like a creepy stalker. The double-wide stained-glass doors showed an idyllic and ancient scene of water flowing through a garden. Trol lanterns hung to each side. An expensive hand-woven rug beckoned visitors.

  At around angle ten, a man exited the suite. Shyla had to clamp her hand over her mouth—his resemblance to Rendor was uncanny. A few centimeters shorter than Rendor, Hastin had equally broad shoulders, but he wasn’t as muscular. Not as dark-skinned either, but with the same color hair and eyes. Hastin’s powerful and confident stride carried him right past her hiding spot. He didn’t pause or acknowledge her. Obviously she was far beneath his notice.

  Shyla waited some more, but Rendor’s parents remained inside. When she left the area, she sensed Rendor but was unable to locate him. Again. Then she spent the rest of the sun jump searching for him. Hanif hadn’t called her stubborn for no reason.

  But she couldn’t find him. Admitting defeat hurt deep inside her. She returned to the commune near angle one eighty. Jayden and Mojag had also come back. They exchanged information.

  “The Heliacal Priestess is buying every bit of platinum she can,” Jayden said. “We’ve estimated that she bought enough for another twenty torques, which means she has about two dozen.”

  “Not good,” she said.

  “It gets worse,” Mojag said. “There’s a rumor that she sent a couple of her Arch Deacons to Catronia to purchase more.”

  Catronia was ten sun jumps away. “Do you know how long ago?”

  Mojag shrugged. “The gossip is still warm.”

  Warm? She glanced at Jayden.

  “Two maybe three sun jumps at most,” Jayden translated. “We have some time to experiment with the ones we have and hopefully figure out a counter strategy before the priestess makes more.”

  “All right, we’ll leave at angle zero. What about the baby’s mother? Any news?”

  “Not a squeak,” Mojag said. “We’ve the network on the lookout.”

  The vagrant network had come in handy a number of times and had found Aphra. “Can you ask the network to keep an eye out for Rendor?”

  Mojag shot Jayden a look but then ducked his head. “Sure thing.”

  Mojag was a lousy liar. Did he not remember she could read his emotions? What had Jayden told him about Rendor? Sick to her stomach, she left them and found Orla sitting in her favorite nook. Shyla joined her and asked the woman to have her people look for Rendor.

  “Do we have to worry about him giving us trouble?” Orla asked.

  “No. But I don’t know how he’s going to find food, or what he plans to do. If you see him or find out where he’s living, can you please let me know.”

  “All right.” Orla paused. “Can I let you know when I see other things?”

  Not sure where Orla was going with this, she said, “Of course. Do you have some information for me?”

  “The deacons who are stationed at the chapel on level fifty-one are especially cruel. They recently rounded up a number of people for ‘lack of proper devotion’ and are rehabilitating them. I’m afraid some of the younger ones aren’t going to survive.”

  Shyla shot to her feet. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

  “I’ve been debating whether the backlash is worth it,” Orla said calmly.

  “The backlash?”

  “Yes. If you go in there and rescue those people, the deacons will retaliate. And I can guarantee you it will be worse.”

  “Oh no, I’ll ensure there’s no backlash,” Shyla said.

  “You can do that?”

  Shyla had no idea. “I’m going to try.”

  Nine

  “Tell me again what we’re doing here?” Jayden asked for the fourth time.

  “We’re going to rescue the people being tortured inside that chapel,” she whispered with annoyance. Granted, she’d woken him up and yanked him from his cushion, but still…

  They crouched in a shadow on level fifty-one, watching the chapel. It was angle three hundred. Two deacons stood guard outside. Since no one dared to attack a chapel, they were more for show. However, the deacons were quite capable of defending themselves. Plus they all carried knives.

  The rest of her team waited in a nearby tunnel. Orla had recruited a number of vagrants to aid Shyla. They all could fight, but their main job was to free the victims and take them to the commune for medical care. Shyla and Jayden would tackle the deacons.

  “What about Arch Deacons?” Jayden asked. “Any inside?”

  “I’ve no idea.”

  “What about torques? Do they have any?”

  “Don’t know.”

  Jayden closed his eyes a moment. “Your plan…”

  “Sucks, I know.”

  “Then why are we here?”

  “We’re helping for a change. If you want to sit this one out, go—”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he snapped. “Let’s just get this over with.”

  “All right.” Shyla straightened, took off her wrap, and strode toward the chapel. It didn’t take long for the two deacons to notice her, and less for them to spot her short blond hair.

  “The sun-kissed!” the one on the left yelled, pointing.

  “Give the man a prize,” she said. “Gather your people. I’m going to make a confession.” Shyla entered the chapel, crossed the nave, and entered the back hallway that led to the confessionals.

  The deacons trotted at her heels, calling to the others. She kept a brisk pace despite wanting to stop and help those suffering inside the rooms. More and more deacons joined them and soon Shyla had quite the parade.

  When she reached the end of the corridor, she spun around, holding out her open hands to show she was unarmed. The deacons all stopped as well. Six of them stared at her. Behind them, the vagrants and Mojag rushed into the rooms to free the occupants. Jayden waited with his knife drawn in case she needed him.

  Gathering her power, she made eye contact with each one. None wore torques. Although, after this, she doubted the priestess would make that mistake again. And none were Iskemu, the deacon who’d backhanded her and cut off her hair. She made a silent promise to get him next time. Then she pushed her magic toward all of them.

  “The Sun Goddess has sent me here to commend you on your efforts,” she said.

  The deacons preened.

  “She applauds your ability to rehabilitate so many lost souls. You’ve done such a good job there are no more souls that need your dispensations and you’ve released them all.” Shyla mustered her strength and targeted each deacon. She caught a glimpse of Mojag carrying a bloody child from one of the confessionals. Heat built inside her as her fury grew. She channeled it toward the deacons. “In fact, if you harm another person in the Sun Goddess’s name, you will suffer as well. You will feel unspeakable pain as if your soul is on fire.” The words seared the air and her throat burned.

  Jayden glanced at her in surprise. She’d no idea where that came from or if it would work, but she was too angry to think clearly. The desire to stop their hearts pulsed within her. But she remembered her orders not to kill another unless it was in self-defense.

  Instead, she dragged up the last of her energy and commanded them.

  Sleep.

  They dropped like a ceiling during a cave-in. Unfortunately, so did she. Jayden hurried over and helped her stand.

  “What did I tell you about using all your energy?” he asked, wrapping her arm around his shoulders.

  “Not to do it.” The chapel spun around her.

  “It was a rhe
torical question. Come on.”

  “But…the people…”

  “Are being helped by the others. We need to get out of the city before the next shift of deacons shows up.”

  They climbed to the commune on level thirty-nine and rested. She gulped a glass of yellow-colored water that Zhek handed to her before rushing to tend to the others. He’d mixed a restorative in the liquid. At least she hoped that was what tinted it yellow and not his sleeping drug. Good thing Zhek had returned from the monastery in time.

  While she caught her breath, Jayden and Mojag gathered the supplies they’d purchased. They said goodbye to Orla, who thanked them.

  “Feel free to spread the rumor that it was the Invisible Sword and not you,” Shyla said. “I don’t want you to experience any backlash.”

  “Don’t worry about us, dear. We’ve handled worse.” Orla shooed them out. “Better hurry.”

  They only had twenty angles to ascend thirty-nine levels. It was doable in most circumstances, but this wasn’t one of them. Shyla soon lagged behind. Jayden tried to help her, but her legs wouldn’t last long. If he had to carry her out, they’d draw too much attention.

  “Go,” she said when they reached level twenty-three. “Take Mojag and get to headquarters.”

  “No.”

  “It’s not a request. And look for Aphra, she might be waiting near the north exit.” Shyla described the woman.

  “Why would she—”

  “I’ll explain later.”

  “I’m not leaving you.” Jayden crossed his arms—the universal sign of male stubbornness.

  “I’ll find a place to rest. Don’t worry.”

  “You can’t protect yourself if you’re passed out.”

  “I’m going to collapse right here if you don’t stop wasting time. It’s an order. Take Mojag and go.”

  “You’re not in your right mind. I’m not—ah hells.” Jayden looked over her shoulder. “What are you doing here?”

  Huh? Now who wasn’t in his right mind?

  “I’ve got her. You go,” Rendor said from behind her.

  She spun so fast she ended up on the ground. Peering up and up, she met Rendor’s gaze. She was so happy to see him that she didn’t mind the pain in her hip from the fall.

  Jayden cursed. “I thought that was you tracking us.”

  Rendor had been following them? She must have really depleted her magical energy.

  Jayden sighed, then said, “Stay out of sight. There’s going to be deacons searching the city for her and stationed at all the exits.”

  “She’ll be safe,” Rendor said.

  “Make sure she’s back at headquarters by the next sun jump.”

  “Only if she’s recovered and it’s safe.”

  Jayden grunted. “Come on, Mojag, we need to hurry.”

  The boy gave her a wide-eyed look before following Jayden.

  Rendor crouched down next to her. “We have to stop meeting like this.”

  Oh no, he didn’t get to tease her. Not after leaving her like that and not letting her explain. Despite being glad to see him, Shyla punched him on the arm, but the blow was weak. She opened her mouth to demand he explain why he’d left.

  “Not here.” Rendor pulled her to her feet. “Can you walk?”

  “It depends.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “Yes, it is. Are we going up, down, or lateral?”

  “I can carry you.”

  She crossed her arms.

  “Fine. It’s two levels down and half a klick south.”

  “Then, yes, I can.” She gestured for him to lead the way.

  They walked in silence. Rendor adjusted to her pace as it changed from slow to lumbering to a painful trudge. The tunnel’s walls and floor softened around her. When had her legs become so heavy? Perhaps she’d been overly confident about her energy level.

  “We need to keep moving,” Rendor said.

  Huh? She had stumbled to a stop.

  “This isn’t the best spot—”

  “Then go. I didn’t ask for help.” She didn’t have the strength to glare at him even though a part of her acknowledged she was the one behaving badly.

  He growled, then dipped down, swept her off her feet, and threw her over his shoulder. “We don’t have time for this, either.”

  She squawked in protest, but he ignored her. Soon his smooth and silent ground-eating strides lulled her to sleep. A change in movement roused her enough to note she no longer hung off his shoulder. Instead a softness cushioned her prone body. A fur being pulled up to her chin was the last thing she remembered.

  When she woke, she was comfortable, warm, and alone. Disappointment seared through her over that last one. A druk glowed with a reddish light, illuminating the small room that barely contained the sleeping cushion. Her pack rested on the floor next to her. Sitting up, she dug for her water skin. Her sore muscles complained, but the bone-deep fatigue was gone. After gulping enough water to un-shrivel her tongue, she found a roll of jerky and ate it without really tasting it—a good thing.

  Her thoughts swirled. What was she going to say to Rendor? During all those angles searching for him, she’d been too focused on the hunt when she should have been composing an…apology? Yes. An apology.

  The food and water revived her further. She clambered from the cushion—an uncoordinated and graceless endeavor. A newborn gamelu gained its feet with more aplomb. Granted, she was unused to the cushion’s extra thickness. She paused. Her thin sleeping mat at the temple was pathetic in comparison. Not much of an enticement for Rendor to return. And why the sudden focus on a cushion? Because it was easier than facing Rendor.

  A narrow opening connected this room to another. She crossed through it. This one contained a couple cushions to sit on, a low table, and a trunk with a sand clock sitting on top. It was angle one-eighty—she’d slept the entire sun jump. Two druks hung on the wall. A rough stained-glass door meant there were no more living spaces. Nowhere else that Rendor could be. She peeked out the door just in case he was standing guard. The tunnel was dimly lit and two distant figures headed toward her. Their voices echoed. She ducked back inside before they spotted her.

  She wondered if this was his place or if he was squatting here. It was bigger than her tiny single room on level three when she’d been a legal citizen.

  With nothing to do but wait, Shyla considered her apology. But soon her thoughts turned dark. What if Rendor didn’t return? Now she fretted. What if he was injured? Or he was caught? She couldn’t do anything to help him. Not yet. And she needed to leave at angle zero; staying in Zirdai any longer would be too dangerous. A million horrible scenarios played out in her mind.

  To keep from obsessing over Rendor, she considered what had happened in the chapel. She hadn’t planned on commanding the deacons to experience pain if they hurt another person, but the sight of that child had triggered such fury that she considered ending all their lives. Wished it. Would the temptation to force others to do her bidding grow until she no longer thought it was wrong? Was that what had happened to Tamburah? He hadn’t started out as a despot. Had the power of The Eyes corrupted him? Or had they given him the power to do what he longed to do all along?

  She sighed. Why couldn’t anything be simple? Was it too much to wish The Eyes came with instructions that made sense? Right now, she felt as if she were stumbling around in the dark, hoping not to slam into a wall. Same with Rendor. What was she supposed to do in this situation? She’d never cared for anyone like this and it appeared she’d already ruined it.

  What if he didn’t want to talk to her? He had to know she’d try to convince him to return to the Invisible Sword. Or what if he thought she wouldn’t, and he was saving himself the pain of another rejection? Or he was truly done with her? She hadn’t even thanked him for helping her!

  Seven hells. She’d rather be fighting an Arch Deacon than twisting herself into a giant knot of what-ifs. Eventually she burned through her energy. Putting the
sand clock next to the sleeping cushion, she lay down. The blasted thing was so damn comfortable. Would Rendor choose a cushion over her?

  A light knocking woke her at angle three-forty. She was halfway to the door before she realized Rendor wouldn’t knock. Her next thought—deacons!—was also dismissed. They’d pound on it or break the door down. Same with the guards. Cautiously, she cracked it open.

  A young boy around twelve circuits old stood there. He was a bit grubby but not a vagrant.

  “Can I help you?” she asked.

  “I’ve a message for you.”

  Oh no. Her heart shriveled. “Wait, please.” She grabbed her wrap and covered her hair before letting the boy inside.

  He gazed at her. If he noticed her blond eyelashes and eyebrows, he didn’t react. “I’ve been paid to guide you to the surface,” he said. “We should leave now in order to get there by angle zero.”

  “Who paid you?” Shyla lowered her shield to read his thoughts. This could be a trap.

  “Some big guy. He said to tell you that this is for the best. And for you to stop looking for him.”

  The boy told the truth. The desiccated thing in her chest crumbled, leaving behind a huge emptiness.

  Shyla had only a vague memory of the trip to the surface. The boy was good at avoiding other people and he didn’t say a word the entire trip. He pointed down a tunnel, said it would lead to an exit, and disappeared.

  When she exited the tunnel, she encountered a few others heading toward the surface. She joined them, tagging along near the back. No one gave her a second glance…or even a first glance. But the two deacons standing next to the exit studied each person intently as they passed.

  Slowing down, Shyla craned her neck to get a better look at their throats. Scorching hells. One wore a torque. Just her luck. She couldn’t use her magic to slip by them unnoticed. Well…she could for one of them if she had enough energy. A quick plan took shape and she targeted the unprotected deacon, sending an image.