The City of Zirdai

by Maria V. Snyder

  It was well into the darkness when Shyla, half asleep and bleary eyed, found a comment that might have been an allusion to other vaults. Suddenly awake, she scanned the passage a couple times. It had been written by the official scribe, but for his own personal account. The scroll chronicled Tamburah’s increasing paranoia. How he had doubled his guards, switched sleeping rooms, arrested his advisors and hired all new people, and became obsessed with his wealth. Tamburah had ordered his servants to move his valuables to different locations until he found one that he believed was secure, then he killed them all so only he knew where his treasures were. When one of his generals had expressed concern that the king wouldn’t remember, Tamburah had pointed to his left temple and said, It’s all right here. Then he had the man put to death for his impertinence.

  At first, Shyla thought Tamburah referred to his memory. Then she suspected it might have to do with The Eyes. Either way it wasn’t going to help her. She continued to read the scribe’s journal. It detailed Tamburah’s decline into madness, his increased blood lust and obsession with eyes. Nausea churned in her stomach as she learned that the king had delighted in personally gouging out the eyes of his enemies, which sounded like anyone who had dared to even look at him.

  She hunched over and hugged her arms to her chest. Was that her fate? According to the written history, Tamburah had been about thirty-one circuits old when he’d assumed power and allegedly The Eyes. Signs of his unbalanced mental state had been mentioned approximately ten circuits later. He’d been assassinated nineteen and a half circuits after he’d been crowned. Did that mean she only had ten circuits of lucidity? And would Rendor keep his promise to remove The Eyes when—if—she turned into a tyrannical maniac like Tamburah? Probably not. Rendor no longer wished to be with her. She needed to ask another to ensure she didn’t become a monster.

  Resting her forehead on the edge of the cold stone table, Shyla endured a moment of overwhelming sadness despite her earlier resolve. Being the leader of the Invisible Sword hadn’t pressed as hard on her shoulders when Rendor had been a member. At least Jayden would be more than happy to take The Eyes from her should she go rogue. In fact, he might be too willing. Perhaps Gurice or Ximen would be a better choice.

  When she’d indulged in her self-pity long enough, Shyla returned to the scroll, skimming Tamburah’s long list of horrors and increasingly erratic behavior. One comment snagged her attention. The scribe claimed Tamburah frequently stared at his sculpture—the oversized relief of Tamburah’s face carved into one of the walls of his judgment room. The king had referred to his sand visage as his legacy many times. The scribe had assigned the behavior as another sign of the king’s megalomania, but Shyla wondered if there was more to it.

  A memory tugged. She’d studied the carving closely when she had waited for the Invisible Sword. Something about Tamburah’s face…the configuration of the blue and purple sand had reminded her of a map. Excitement pumped through her. If she examined the pattern with her new sight, would it reveal more?

  Of course no one would agree that it was worth the risk to go to Tamburah’s judgment room to examine it. Both the Water Prince and Heliacal Priestess might be watching the temple. However, the Invisible Sword’s old hideout was in the lower levels so the upper ones might be safer.

  She sensed that pattern might be a key. To what, she’d no idea.

  Good thing she didn’t need anyone’s permission.

  Instead of dashing off to Tamburah’s temple, Shyla remained in the Second Room of Knowledge until she read through all the scrolls and tablets she’d collected on Tamburah. It took the rest of the darkness to finish. Nothing else mentioned or even hinted at the existence of another vault or buildings. Because that would just be too easy. She returned the materials to their proper shelves.

  Stiff, sore, exhausted, and with a headache that throbbed behind her eyes, Shyla staggered to her room in the empty wing of the monastery. Sinking into the soft sleeping cushion, she wondered if anyone would notice if she stole it. An image of her hunched over with the cushion on her back as she trudged through the desert made her giggle. Perhaps the monks on guard would think she was an oversized velbloud looking for its flock.

  She dreamed she flew high above the sands, connected to the ground by a thin thread. Her pleasure over the view warred with her fear as the fibers in the thread slowly unraveled. She woke the instant the thread snapped. Or was it the sound of her door opening that had jolted her from sleep?

  Either way, she was on her feet when Easan entered her room. He held a druk and the young monk’s face was creased with worry.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Captain Yates is here with a platoon of guards. They’ve orders to search the monastery for you.”

  Son of a sand demon. Her memory wipe must have not lasted on that thick-headed man or else someone had tipped him off that she was here. She glanced at the sand clock—angle sixty-five and too close to the danger zone for her to leave the monastery through one of the escape tunnels. “I can hide in the First Room—”

  “Yates has permission to search the Rooms of Knowledge.” Easan’s voice was strident with outrage. “All of them.”

  “The Water Prince doesn’t have that kind of power.”

  “No he doesn’t, but the King of Koraha does.”

  “The King gave the Water Prince permission?”

  “Yes.”

  Shocked, she stared at her childhood friend. “Wait. How did the prince manage that? Qulsary is over seventy sun jumps away. Unless the King isn’t in the capital?”

  “He’s there. The prince has a special dispensation from the King. It’s to be used one time only for an emergency.”

  “I’m considered an emergency?” She didn’t know whether to be flattered or terrified.

  “Apparently. Aren’t you special.” He gave her a tight-lipped smile.

  It was bad, but it still wasn’t dire.

  “Also the guards have formed into six eight-person units for the search.”

  Now it was dire.

  Eleven

  Seven hells. An eight-person unit was too many for Shyla to influence right now. If she’d had more sleep, then maybe. She still couldn’t believe the King of Koraha had given the prince permission to enter all the Rooms of Knowledge. She wondered how close the prince and King were. He had to have impressed the King at some point to win that dispensation. Had the prince sent a message to the King about Shyla? Did she have to worry about his men coming to Zirdai? Perhaps she should concentrate on surviving the problem at hand.

  “Is there any place to hide down past level twelve?” Having grown up in the monastery, she knew there weren’t any hiding places in the upper levels. Not ones that Hanif or one of the other monks hadn’t found her in pretty quick.

  “No. There’s nothing. Sorry,” Easan said.

  “Do you have any rooms with loose sand?”

  “Not below level one. But if you need sand…” He pointed to the sand clock. “We’ve a bunch of those.”

  Not enough for her to hide under. Plus it would look suspicious—a mound of sand right in the middle of an otherwise clean room. She sorted through her childhood memories. Perhaps something would trigger a brilliant plan. No luck. “How long have they been here?”

  “About five angles. They’ve already searched the top six levels. Good thing I checked your room first.”

  “Any gaps between units that I can slip through?”

  “They’re being rather thorough. What do you want to do?”

  Only one thing to do. “I’ll find a way to stay hidden until they leave.”

  “Where?”

  “It’s better you don’t know.” Shyla grabbed her pack and headed to the First Room of Knowledge. Hopefully being able to go between there and the map room would allow her to remain undetected. She had enough energy to hide the shortcut from one or even two, three if she was desperate. Although she doubted that many would find the hiding spot under the ta
ble. The maze of shelves and sudden dead ends should be confusing to the guards. Overall, not the best plan, but it was all she had.

  At least she didn’t have to guess when the unit entered. Their boisterous voices echoed off the stone walls and their irreverent and smug comments grated on her sensibilities. They didn’t belong here and they knew it. Hanif must be beside himself over being forced to allow the guards into the Rooms of Knowledge.

  Then a voice that sent a knife of fear straight to her heart said, “Fan out, and don’t trust your eyes. Search with your hands. I’ll wait here in case you flush the sun- kissed out.”

  She shouldn’t have been surprised. Of course Yates would be with this unit. He wouldn’t be able to resist going into a place that was normally off-limits to him. Not waiting any longer, she hurried to the map room. Once inside, Shyla crouched to the side of the opening and just out of sight. If she sensed anyone nearby, she’d project a solid wall.

  As she waited, she counted her heartbeats, which seemed to echo loudly in the room. It didn’t take long for the sounds of boots and voices to reach her. Two, maybe three guards approached the table.

  A male voice said, “If I encounter one more spider web, I’m gonna charge the monks a cleaning fee.”

  “I don’t know what all the fuss is about these rooms,” said another man. “There’s nothing here but a bunch of dusty old scrolls and tablets.”

  “What did you expect?” a woman asked.

  “Golden chalices, bowls filled with precious gems, ancient artifacts.”

  “You certainly have quite the imagination,” she said, and her tone implied it wasn’t a compliment.

  Weak druk light pierced the map room. Shyla gathered her magic as the light brightened.

  “Ugh, there’s a gap under the table. Check it out, Gafna,” the first man ordered.

  “Why me?”

  “You’re smaller than we are.”

  “And smarter, too,” she said, but then she sighed. “You owe me.”

  A scrape of a boot was followed by a grunt. Shyla aimed her magic at the woman.

  Wall.

  But without making eye contact, Shyla had no way to know if her magic was working.

  Wall.

  “There’s nothing here,” the woman said.

  Phew.

  “Did you do a hand check?”

  Oh no.

  Another sigh. “You really want me to get bitten by a spider, don’t you?”

  “Better you than me.”

  Solid wall.

  A hand poked through the shortcut. Shyla bit down on a curse.

  “Huh? What the— Uri, get down here and bring that druk!”

  “What did you find?” Uri asked.

  Shyla sent her magic to the man as well.

  Solid wall.

  “I don’t know, you big lug. Give me the light.”

  A druk was thrust into the map room. Shyla backed away from the shortcut.

  Not here.

  The female guard stuck her head in. “That was weird.”

  “What in seven hells, Gafna. Where’s your head?”

  “In some kind of room.” She withdrew. “See for yourself.”

  “That’s a solid wall.”

  “It looks like one, but it’s not. Isn’t this what Captain Yates said to be on the lookout for?”

  This wasn’t going to end well, but Shyla didn’t know what else to do.

  Not here.

  A big hand with calluses appeared followed by a scowling guard’s face. His surprise didn’t last long. He retreated.

  “Block that opening,” he ordered Gafna. “I’m going to find out about that room.”

  Not here.

  Gafna reappeared, but she stopped so half of her body remained in the First Room. She held her sword and scanned the octagonal space.

  Sleep.

  The woman blinked a few times and yawned, but she shook off the command. Shyla increased her will.

  Sleep.

  Gafna’s head dropped. Not wasting time, Shyla raced over to the double stained-glass doors. They were locked. Scorching hells. After a moment of panic, she remembered that this room was guarded like all the others. Reaching out, she sensed the two monks on the other side.

  Open doors.

  Nothing.

  Open doors.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” a muffled voice on the other side said.

  A key rasped in the keyhole. “Unlocking the door.”

  “Why?”

  She didn’t have time for this. Using more of her waning energy, she pushed it at the two monks.

  Open doors.

  A metallic snap broke the quiet. The doors slid apart. Both monks peeked inside.

  Not here.

  She darted into the hallway.

  Lock doors.

  They did as instructed. Shyla hurried away. She was on level nine. And probably so were the other units. If she only encountered a few guards she could slip by them and get higher. If not…she’d be caught. Best to think positive.

  Voices alerted her before she turned the corner. She skidded to a stop and backtracked to the intersection she’d just passed. Ducking down the left tunnel, she pressed against the wall just as the group walked by. Hanif led Captain Yates and four guards. They were so focused on getting to the map room that none glanced her way. She remembered to breathe. After waiting for what seemed like a couple thousand angles, she ventured out and tried to find a route free of guards.

  She managed to reach level seven, but Yates must have brought more than a platoon because there were plenty of guards stationed at the various ramps to the upper levels. Too many for her to handle. Besides, it was still too hot to be higher than level six. Shyla considered borrowing a robe and trying to sneak by them, but as she watched from a hidden spot, the guards yanked the hoods down on all the monks who had them up.

  Her only option was to stay hidden until the surface cooled enough for her to use one of the escape tunnels. Except she soon learned that guards blocked those as well. She had to grudgingly admit Captain Yates wasn’t an idiot. Panic churned and bubbled up her throat. She swallowed it down.

  Hoping the guards had already searched level seven, Shyla sought a place to hide. The kitchen and dining area were nearby, but second meal would be in full swing. Perhaps if she found a robe, she could blend in with the monks there. Too bad there weren’t robes just lying around.

  She spent the next ten or twenty angles dodging guards. Each close encounter sapped her strength a little more. At this rate, they would find her curled up in a corner sound asleep.

  At a loss for what to do, she kept moving until she realized groups of monks had joined in the search for her. They weren’t obvious about it, but she sensed their intent to find her. Too tired to figure out why, and hoping it was for a good reason, she trailed one of them until she thought it was safe to reveal her presence.

  The five of them quickly surrounded her—not to attack, but to hide her. Without a word, they headed to the kitchen where they left her. Huh? After glancing briefly in her direction, the staff returned to their duties. The savory scent of roast gamelu enticed her to the stew pot despite her unsettled stomach. She helped herself. Why not? This might be her last meal.

  Soon a group of three monks entered the kitchen. This time, she recognized Kaveri.

  “We don’t have much time,” Kaveri said.

  An understatement. “What’s going on?”

  “We’ve a plan to help you.” Kaveri took off her robe. Underneath she wore a plain tunic and pants much like the ones the citizens wore. Actually, very similar to what Shyla wore.

  “Here.” Kaveri handed her the robe. “Put that on.”

  “But—”

  “Trust me.”

  And since the woman was her mother, Shyla did.

  Kaveri handed a pair of scissors to another monk. “Be quick.”

  Shyla watched in fascinated horror as the monk cut Kaveri’s hair short. Long strands of beautiful
yellow hair floated to the floor. “You…”

  “Don’t worry, it’ll grow back,” Kaveri said, unconcerned.

  Unlike Shyla who had been upset when the deacon had chopped off her long locks. Soon Kaveri’s hairstyle matched Shyla’s. And a strange sensation swept through her as the resemblance between the two of them was undeniable. Shyla stared into her future.

  “You…” Again words failed her as Shyla tried to speak.

  “We’ll talk about it later,” Kaveri said, cupping Shyla’s cheek for a moment. “Now, let me tell you the plan.”

  As far as plans went, this one was rather simple. But it put Kaveri at considerable risk. Shyla argued that Captain Yates might arrest the woman out of spite.

  “He can try, but he won’t succeed. I am a monk.” Kaveri’s confidence was unshakable.

  Shyla wondered if she’d ever be that…comfortable with her role in their world. At least, if she survived, Shyla might learn more about the woman who gave birth to her. The two of them crept back up to level seven. By now, enough time had passed and the surface would be safe…sort of. It wouldn’t be comfortable, but it wouldn’t kill her either.

  They stopped at a collection station before splitting up to implement Kaveri’s scheme at one of the ramps to level six. From a hidden vantage point, Shyla held her breath and watched as her mother rounded a corner as if being pursued. Kaveri halted when she spotted the six guards. They stared at each other for a few stunned heartbeats. Then Kaveri spun on her heel and dashed away.

  “It’s the sun-kissed,” one guard cried. “Baru and Lute, stay here. The rest with me.”

  Four guards raced after Kaveri, leaving two behind.

  If all went according to plan, Kaveri would lead them deep into the monastery before allowing them to catch her.

  The guards that remained at the ramp buzzed with a new sense of purpose. Shyla waited about three angles. Covering her hair with the robe’s hood, she hefted the heavy bucket and strolled toward the two guards.