The City of Zirdai

by Maria V. Snyder

  As she headed there, Aphra approached her. “What’s my job?”

  “That tunnel is very important. Take who’s left and keep working on it.”

  “All right.”

  Rae waited for her inside her small chamber. She sat next to the bucket of sand, staring at it. “I never thought of sand as a weapon before Jayden attacked us. It was always just a nuisance to me.” She met Shyla’s gaze. “The Ways of the Yarin are all about defense, and I can think of many instances where sand would make an effective shield.”

  “I see you’re getting used to the idea of wielding magic.”

  “I’m an Invisible Sword. We don’t back down from a challenge.”

  “Ah, that’s my girl. Are you ready?” At Rae’s nod, Shyla asked her to concentrate on the sand, willing it to move.

  When her magic glowed, Shyla pulled on the edges, opening it up. Rae’s fear of abandonment poured out. Not a surprise, but the fact Rae had been three circuits old at the time shocked Shyla to her core. Most parents left their sun-kissed children when they were mere sun jumps old. Rae’s hid her from the deacons. Until they changed their minds.

  Stay here, her mother says. We’re going to play a game.

  Rae claps her hands in excitement, but why does Mommy look so sad? The glare of the hot sun makes it hard to see, but tears shine in Mommy’s eyes.

  Close your eyes and turn around, her mother says.

  She doesn’t understand this new game or why there are people dressed in green with her and Mommy. Where’s Daddy? But she does as she’s told. ’Cause it’s Mommy. When nothing happens for a long time, she opens her eyes. The heat sears her lungs as she looks behind her. She’s alone. Terror strikes her like a blow. Crying out for her mommy, she runs, following the tracks, but they’re confusing and she’s soon lost. She keeps running even though the sun presses fire down onto her. Her skin turns bright red. The soles of her feet burn.

  When she can no longer run, she collapses on the scorching sand. Needles of agony dig into her skin. Then a shadow provides a tiny bit of relief and a man dressed in red looms over her. He scoops her up in his arms.

  The trauma of being left in the desert had remained with her all these circuits. Unable to get close to anyone, Rae kept herself emotionally apart. Not anymore. Rae sagged against Shyla, exhausted.

  She pulled Rae into her arms. “The deacons forced your parents to abandon you.”

  “I know. I’ve known. I just…”

  “Couldn’t help wondering if they decided to leave you and asked the deacons for help,” Shyla said softly.

  “Yes.” A sigh.

  “Now you see the truth.”

  “I do.”

  “And the best part—”

  Rae jerked away. “There’s nothing best about it.”

  “There is. Your parents might still be alive and living in Zirdai. I’m sure they’d be ecstatic to see you again.”

  The woman stared at her as if Shyla had just told her she could fly.

  “Get some sleep, Rae.” Shyla pointed. “You’re welcome to use my mat.”

  A small smile tugged at Rae’s lips. “No offense, but the piles of sand in level eleven are more comfortable.”

  “Go, then,” she shooed good-naturedly. Then she took a few moments to center her thoughts and emotions before calling in the next person to open.

  After the last of the potentials left, Shyla crawled to her mat. Uncomfortable or not, she needed the balm of oblivion. The emotional release of the traumas from nine people had bombarded her. Every bit of her body felt raw as if she’d just walked naked through a sandstorm. She longed for Rendor, and imagined curling up in his embrace, borrowing his strength. With the memory of his scent in her mind, she fell asleep.

  From her vantage point on the edge of the dune, Shyla watched Zimraan’s caravan through the holes in her camouflage. Pulled by teams of gamelus, the line of twelve wagons trundled through the sand. Each wagon had two drivers. Guards wearing sun cloaks and swords strode on each side of the line. The sun hovered in the sky at angle thirty-one.

  She’d been hidden under a blanket of sand since before the sun started its jump. Ximen and Gurice were also concealed at other key locations nearby. They’d been fighting the magical command not to look to the west since angle twenty—when the Arch Deacons and deacons had arrived to intercept the caravan. Others hid behind dunes. Shyla guessed the extra personnel were there in case they were ambushed. Overall the priestess’s people were being careful not to be spotted by anyone.

  Shyla counted sixteen Arch Deacons and six deacons—four of them able to wield magic—plus ten more hiding. A total of thirty-two opponents. The priestess certainly had big plans for this encounter. Shyla guessed she should be flattered.

  As the caravan approached, the deacons stopped the magical command. To Zimraan’s eyes, it would look like a wall of Arch Deacons had suddenly appeared. They wore green tunics and pants, black dillo leather boots, and green turbans. Their faces were covered with veils.

  Zimraan cried out in alarm. He raised a hand and the wagoners halted the gamelus. His guards rushed to the front, ready to protect the merchandise. But the deacons remained in place. After a few tense moments, one Arch Deacon strode to Zimraan as the caravan master dismounted.

  Shyla strained to listen to their conversation.

  “We’re here to purchase all the platinum you carry. Also there are agitators in Zirdai who plan to do the same thing. We would like your help in trapping them,” the man said.

  “I’m sorry, but I already sold all my platinum,” Zimraan said.

  “Who did you sell the platinum to?” the Arch Deacon shouted, drawing his knife.

  Zimraan backed away, his hands up. “The monks.”

  This answer caused the Arch Deacon to pause. His grip on his weapon relaxed. “The Monks of Parzival?”

  “No, the Monks of Arinna.”

  Shyla smiled. That had been her idea.

  “I’ve never heard of them.”

  Zimraan lowered his arms. “They’re new. They’re building a monastery outside the city of Marib.”

  “We still need your caravan in order to surprise and capture the insurgents,” the Arch Deacon said. When Zimraan hesitated, he added, “You’ll be compensated and everything will be returned to you.”

  The caravan master had no real choice. His eight guards were no match for sixteen Arch Deacons. Shyla watched as the Arch Deacons and six deacons exchanged clothing with the wagoners. And then the ones in hiding appeared. Eight of them swapped with the caravan’s guards, while two donned the tunics of the men from the last wagon.

  The priestess had sent the exact number of people to cover all the caravan’s personnel except Zimraan of course. There would be no gaps to warn Shyla or her people that a swap had taken place. Smart. Too bad for the priestess, Shyla already thought of doing that exact same thing.

  The people now dressed as deacons moved away from the caravan—her cue to start. Shyla aimed her magic at the sand below the disguised deacons’ feet, moving it away. Ximen and Gurice helped her. Cries rang out as they sank and struggled and failed to find firm ground. The priestess’s wielders were unable to aid their colleagues. Jayden only had time to teach them how to influence people. A handy skill until the ground dissolved underneath them. She couldn’t suppress a snicker.

  Not everyone was caught. But she wasn’t worried as Elek, Jaft, Lian, and the other fighters—who were now dressed like deacons—took care of them. The priestess’s wielders tried to interfere with Shyla’s people, but their efforts had no effect. The Invisible Swords all wore rings of platinum on their fingers. Engraved into all the platinum jewelry was the old Invisible Sword symbol. Ximen’s experimentation with the torques had revealed that it didn’t have to be worn around the neck. As long as it touched skin and had the symbol, it worked.

  The Goddess had smiled on them because Wazir was a metalsmith. He’d been able to make the rings quickly. His occupation was also the reaso
n he and his family had ended up in the chapel. Wazir had refused to hand over his inventory of platinum to the Heliacal Priestess so she had tortured his family.

  When everyone was secured, Shyla removed her camouflage. Her injured leg had stiffened with the inactivity and she was unable to stand. Ximen who was nearby, rushed over to help her to her feet. So much for her grand entrance.

  Grins and whoops sounded from the Invisible Swords when she joined them. She congratulated them on their success. But they couldn’t relax yet. The sun climbed closer to apex and the deacons needed to be taken to the monastery where Zimraan’s people waited. The monks had agreed to hold on to the captured deacons for a few sun jumps.

  To her, the very best part of the plan was that she now had thirty-two Invisible Swords disguised as Arch Deacons and deacons.

  They raced the sun. Zimraan’s caravan arrived at the entrances to Zirdai around angle sixty-five. The porters waiting for the merchant sprang into action, unloading the goods, unharnessing the gamelus, and cursing under their breath at the unexpected delay. Zimraan shrugged, claimed traveling in the desert was a dangerous undertaking then proceeded to bark orders.

  Zimraan had played his part well. At first he’d been against the idea of deceiving the Heliacal Priestess’s deacons, but a large pouch of osees had changed his mind.

  Four more Arch Deacons waited as well. They demanded to know what had happened. Shyla’s people had ensured their faces were hidden behind the veils. They parted and revealed their prizes—Shyla, Gurice, and Ximen with their hands tied behind their backs. She glared at them all, playing her part.

  “The mission was a complete success,” Elek said.

  “What about the other renegades?” one Arch Deacon asked.

  “Dead,” Elek said in a flat tone. Muscling past the man, he gestured for the others to go inside.

  “That wasn’t part of the mission,” the man said, trailing them. “The Blessed One will be upset.”

  “They fought back.” Elek shrugged. “Not much else we could do.” Picking up the pace, he led them down to level six.

  Once they were safe from the killing sun, Elek slowed. The four from the entrance had followed, obviously intent on accompanying them. Elek headed to a less populated fringe of the city.

  “Hey, wait, you’re not going the right way,” an Arch Deacon said.

  “I think this is a good place,” Elek said.

  “For what?”

  “For this.” He snapped his fingers. Elek’s warriors attacked.

  The four had no chance. They were unarmed and forced to their knees in a fraction of an angle. Jaft removed their torques and Shyla used her magic to erase their memories. She then went deeper, finding their reasons for becoming Arch Deacons. Her magic wouldn’t be able to change their personality or beliefs, but she questioned why they served the Heliacal Priestess knowing they were no longer saving souls, but hurting them.

  The priestess does not speak for the Sun Goddess. I do and she is not happy with your behavior.

  Her efforts probably wouldn’t work for all of them, but two showed promise. They left the Arch Deacons and continued on their journey.

  “Are we going to do this for all the deacons?” Jaft asked.

  “Eventually. I’d like to do it for all those who are loyal to the priestess. However, for now, only the ones who try to stop us,” Shyla said. “Our mission is to get to the priestess. Once we have her neutralized, we can go from there.”

  “With so many of us, we’re bound to draw attention,” Jaft said.

  “Our numbers will scare most people off,” Elek said. “Besides, if we move quickly, they won’t have time to gather forces if they suspect we’re not legit.”

  “Are you going to be able to go down ninety more levels?” Ximen asked Shyla.

  With her hands mock tied, walking was difficult.

  “We’ve got her,” Daksh said, indicating Nard who stood on the other side of Shyla. “If she has trouble, we’ll help her out.”

  “How?” Ximen asked.

  Shyla was also very interested in the answer. The two men each cupped one of her elbows and lifted her off her feet. It was strange, but with her feet only a few centimeters off the floor, they could carry her.

  “Everyone ready?” Elek asked.

  When they confirmed, he set off at a brisk pace. Shyla managed to keep up for ten levels, but after that Daksh and Nard carried her. The big men didn’t slow even with the extra weight. Must be nice to be so strong. That thought led to her wondering about Rendor. Would he spot her with the deacons and try to rescue her? No. It was a silly thought. Even Rendor couldn’t take on thirty-two deacons.

  As expected, no one dared get in their way. Elek took a route that avoided all the crowded areas of Zirdai but wasn’t on the edges. Deacons didn’t worry about being noticed so if they appeared too furtive, it would trigger suspicion.

  They traveled unheeded all the way down to level ninety. There they entered one of the larger caverns that tended to be a gathering place for the residents in the area. There were many of them throughout Zirdai. Due to the wealth of the citizens at this level, this one was extravagantly decorated with oversized cushions, tables, plush rugs, and trol lanterns.

  It was also empty.

  The Invisible Swords had a moment to exchange a warning before the other side of the cavern filled with a similarly sized group.

  The good news—they weren’t from the priestess’s holy army. The bad—they were the Water Prince’s well-armed guards.

  Seventeen

  The two groups sized each other up. All had drawn their weapons. Invisible Swords disguised as Arch Deacons faced the Water Prince’s guards. Rendor had told her the two factions avoided conflicts. Except, apparently, when it came to The Eyes. This was the second encounter. And informing the guards they weren’t deacons would just make things worse—although she really couldn’t think of how things could get worse.

  Captain Yates entered the cavern and proved she hadn’t been thinking hard enough. His people parted, allowing him to walk to the front. Yates scanned them. His gaze paused on Shyla. It burned with deadly intent—a pledge just for her. She tried to read him but was blocked. He had gotten another torque. Fear burned up her throat. How many of his guards were also protected?

  “Who’s in charge?” Yates asked.

  “I am,” Elek said, stepping forward. “You are interfering with the Blessed One’s wishes. Move aside.”

  “No.” Yates looked at Shyla. “The Heliacal Priestess will kill you. The Water Prince won’t. His promise.” Then he turned to Elek. “Give me the sun-kissed, and you can walk out of here.”

  His confidence was based on the guess that Shyla would choose the prince over the priestess and not attack the guards with her magic. If she was truly the priestess’s prisoner, then he would have been right. Shyla scrutinized the guards, sensing if any of them blocked her. She found four, which she considered a lucky break.

  “No,” Elek said.

  With nothing else left to say the two groups engaged. Yates and Elek crossed swords. Shyla worried for Elek—he wielded one of the stolen swords, but fighting with a weapon wasn’t his strongest skill. Unlike Yates, who was much better. Avoiding the fighting, she, Ximen, and Gurice backed up to the far wall.

  “Target the guards,” Shyla said, aiming her magic at one of them.

  “Any special requests?” Ximen asked. “Confuse them, stop them, or put them to sleep?”

  “All of them. Just watch where the bodies fall,” Shyla said. “We don’t want our people tripping over them.”

  A contained chaos filled the room. Bodies collided, slumped over, and cried out in pain. The hot metallic odor of spilled blood and the sour aroma of sweat polluted the air.

  Elek kept up with Yates for a while. Then the captain turned on the speed and Elek was soon unarmed. With his training in the Ways of the Yarin, he was able to dodge Yates’ sword. Eventually the captain wore Elek down. Shyla sucked in a b
reath, but instead of killing Elek, Yates shoved him toward them. Elek slammed into Ximen and Gurice, knocking both down.

  Then Yates was in front of her. She glanced up as he reached for her neck. The memory of him choking the life out of Rendor flashed. Yates had said the prince promised not to kill her, but Yates never said he wouldn’t.

  Instead of fingers wrapping around her throat, a cold metal pressed on her skin. She yanked her hands free, but too late to stop the cold from ringing her neck.

  As the metal tightened, , Yates leaned closer. “The torque works both ways. To protect and to prevent.”

  Seven hells. He’d put a torque on her! A click sounded and her magical connection to everyone was broken.

  She clawed at it but it wouldn’t budge. Yates reached for her. Remembering her training, she blocked his arm. Then she countered with a strike with the edge of her hand to his throat. He didn’t even flinch. Instead he crouched down and did a left hook into the back of her right thigh—where he’d stabbed her. His aim was dead on and the intense pain shattered her concentration.

  The next thing she knew, she was dangling over his shoulder as he left the cavern. Her hands were free, but he’d hooked his arm over her legs, anchoring her in place. And his fingers dug deeper into her injury every time she squirmed, trying to get free.

  It didn’t take long to descend to level ninety-seven. Yates carried her past the guards to the main entrance. The entire level was the Water Prince’s. He brought her to an unfamiliar room—not that she’d seen more than a few the couple times she’d been here. Then he dumped her on the floor.

  The impact forced the breath from her lungs with a loud whoosh. Between the pain from her leg and the inability to draw a breath, she expected to pass out—hoped to once she spotted the prince’s black boots standing next to her. But she just wasn’t that lucky. Eventually she recovered and looked up at the prince.