The City of Zirdai

by Maria V. Snyder

  Four guards rushed her and held her down on the floor. Yates’ huge hands clamped around her head. The fear that had been simmering deep inside her chest boiled over, sending out searing darts of terror. Yates smiled down at her. Ice clutched her skin. She’d never seen him smile. One good thing about dying was she would never have to see it again.

  Timin knelt next to her. His normally kind face creased in sympathy and sorrow as if he’d already pronounced her dead. The physician spread her right eyelid open. The small, curved, and oh-so-very-sharp blade descended toward her eye. She gripped one of the guards’ hands, blindly seeking comfort. He kindly squeezed back. Her thoughts spun with desperation. Need. To. Stop. This. Now.

  “Wait!” she cried. “I’m still wearing the collar! The Eyes won’t turn back without magic.” She’d no idea if it was true or not.

  Timin paused. The prince cursed. She was granted a few more moments as they discussed what to do. Time to think of a brilliant escape plan. Eventually, torques were brought in for everyone, including Timin. All she’d managed to do was delay the inevitable. And here she was, once again immobilized on the floor without any sudden epiphanies.

  Then it was Timin, eyelid, blade, squeezing hands—two this time—and torques. The platinum gleamed in the trol light. She focused on the Invisible Sword symbol etched into the metal, hoping for some comfort. Instead that desperately needed epiphany sprang to life. Gathering all her magic in one giant scoop, she released it in one huge explosion of power.

  Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop!

  They froze. She silently thanked the Sun Goddess as relief rushed through her.

  Release me.

  They did.

  Back away.

  They scooted back. She sat up, panting and shaking from her close call. Her magic still held them, even Yates—although he strained mightily so she needed to move fast. The prince’s expression was priceless—a combination of utter shock, fury, and murderous intention.

  Their torques hadn’t protected them because they had been engraved with the old symbol of the Invisible Sword. Shyla had retaken the oath with the new symbol. The one with her extra embellishments. It had been her own conviction that she couldn’t get past those torques that kept her from doing it. Once she figured it out, she just needed a leap of faith.

  She pushed to her feet, turned and— Seven hells!

  A dozen guards charged into the throne room. She lost her concentration and Yates surged to his feet, aiming straight for her.

  Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone.

  Yates paused. “Where’s the sun-kissed?” he roared.

  “There!” one guard said, pointing.

  She didn’t have enough power to reach them all. And with the knot of people blocking the entrance, she had nowhere to go. Bedlam ensued for a short—too short— time. Shyla ducked and dodged and fought those closest to her, using her magical commands at every opportunity, but eventually Yates caught her.

  “Don’t try anything,” he said as the cold steel of his knife touched her throat.

  Stop.

  He applied a slight pressure. A line of fire crossed her neck.

  “I’m not going to stop,” he said. “And you don’t need to be alive in order for us to remove your eyes.”

  Damn thick-headed man.

  The prince’s voice cut through the cries and everyone stilled, including Yates.

  “What in the seven hells is going on?” he demanded. “While I’m glad you’ve arrived, why are you here?”

  One of the guards straightened. “We brought you a prize, sire.” He gestured and the people near the door moved further inside—the throne room almost filled to capacity. But then, through the midst of them, a man was shoved forward to the middle of the room.

  Rendor.

  Eighteen

  Beaten, bruised, and bloody, Rendor stood before the prince, who eyed him with mild surprise and amusement. Shyla sagged against Yates. Rendor had tried to rescue her and now…now they were both in trouble. Unless she could gather enough magic to freeze everyone.

  “Where did you find him?” the prince asked.

  “He’s been trying to recruit your guards to switch their loyalties to the sun-kissed, sire,” one of the guards said.

  Really? Shyla strained to catch Rendor’s gaze, but his hard stare was aimed at Yates behind her.

  “Did he have any success?” the prince asked.

  Uneasy chuckling. “No, sire. We caught him before he could do any damage.”

  “Good work, Lieutenant. Rendor, you should have left Zirdai when you had the chance. We’ll deal with you in a bit.” The prince turned to Yates. “Captain—”

  “He’s not your captain,” Rendor said. “Not while I’m still alive.”

  Yates tensed. And Shyla inwardly groaned at his bold statement. The big brute was going to get himself killed.

  “We can settle this right now,” Yates said. He handed Shyla and his knife to the closest guard. “I’ll know if you try to influence me with your magic,” he said to her, then to the guard, “Watch me. If I signal you, slit her throat.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  From her point of view, her situation had improved. The man holding her was no Yates. His mind was easily influenced. She wondered if that had been Rendor’s plan all along.

  Rendor was given a sword and Yates drew his. The guards cleared a space for the combatants, moving to the sides of the room. Rendor was in no condition to fight. This was suicide. She counted the people in the throne room. The prince, Yates, Timin, and fifteen guards—nineteen total. She’d influenced over twenty-five at one time, but then she hadn’t spent some of her energy. And they’d also have to escape this level afterwards. She suppressed those negative thoughts. Instead, she focused on the belief and faith that she could do it. Shyla had to gain control of this situation.

  Except Rendor was holding his own. In fact, he looked rather nimble for someone who’d been beaten. The fight resembled the last one—brutal, intense, with minimal flourish. Yates also realized his opponent wasn’t as injured as he appeared. The captain changed his strategy, once again targeting Rendor’s old injuries.

  Shyla drew in her strength. She had to stop everyone, then they’d find her parents, and she’d use the look away command to get them all free or she’d die trying.

  Except Rendor grinned and countered Yates as if not bothered by the change in tactics. The momentum swung in Rendor’s favor. He snaked past Yates’ guard, side-stepped lunges, and was quicker overall. The number of cuts grew on Yates’ arms, torso, and thighs. And then Rendor increased the intensity of his attack. Within heartbeats he’d unarmed Yates and sent the captain to the ground with a massive blow to his temple. The crack reverberated in the dead silent room.

  Shyla half expected the captain to get up. He had an extra thick skull after all, but the man remained unconscious on the floor.

  The Water Prince frowned down at Yates for a moment. “Well, Rendor, you proved you’re still the best. However, you’re still a traitor.” He swept out an arm, gesturing to his guards. “Even you can’t overcome so many opponents. And one false move, the sun-kissed is dead.”

  Yet the guards in the room didn’t appear to be upset by the defeat of their captain. The man holding Shyla no longer pressed the knife to her throat. She sensed—

  Son of a sand demon!

  “I’m still a captain,” Rendor said to the prince. “And these are my soldiers. They agree with the Invisible Sword that you’re not the right person for the job.”

  Shyla glanced at the four who’d helped to hold her down. One gave her a sheepish look. No wonder he’d squeezed her hand back!

  The prince pulled his sword and charged at Rendor. The big man twisted. The blade missed his torso by a hair. Rendor didn’t waste any time. Within a few moves, Rendor struck the prince on the back of his head. He crumpled and joined Yates on the floor. A cheer went up.

  Dazed by the turn of events, Shyla remained in place as Rendor barked orders
to his men. A bunch left and a new batch arrived. How many did he convince? Was that what he’d been doing all this time?

  Soon, though, he stood in front of her. “Are you all right?”

  From this distance, she noted his bruises had been faked. Probably part of the plan to lure Yates into a false sense of security. She wondered if Rendor had thrown their prior fight. However, she didn’t need all the details yet. Right now the fact he’d come when she was most desperate was all the answer she needed.

  “Shyla?”

  “Are you here to stay?”

  Rendor wiped Yates’ blood off his sword. He bowed and laid the weapon at her feet. Straightening, he said, “I’m your captain for as long as you’ll have me.”

  His words hit her with the intensity of a magical vow, cleansing away the doubt and heartache that had lived in her soul since he’d left.

  She jumped into his arms.

  He caught her easily. A huge grin spread on his face as he hugged her tight.

  “You’re hired,” she whispered in his ear and was rewarded with a deep rumbling laugh—the best sound in all of Zirdai.

  Rendor squeezed her once more then set her back on her feet. His gaze snagged on her neck. “You’re bleeding. Timin,” he called.

  Timin jerked then hurried over to them. Fear and uncertainty swirled in his eyes. “Uh, yes, sire.”

  “I’m not the new Water Prince,” Rendor snapped.

  “Why not?”

  “I’m the captain of the Invisible Sword.”

  They both looked at her.

  “Oh no, not me. I’m already in charge of one organization.”

  “You can’t leave the position open—there will be civil war,” Timin said. “Who, then?”

  Good question. She rejected the first name that came to mind and considered the Invisible Swords, then the vagrants. Orla would make a good leader. But that first name was truly the best choice.

  Rendor met her gaze.

  “Jayden,” they both said.

  “But he’s not…” She couldn’t find the words.

  “Not what?”

  She sighed. “You’ve missed a lot.” But she had as well. “You’ve been recruiting for the Invisible Sword?”

  “Yes. I had to prove to the Invisible Swords that my intentions were honest. I had to make amends before I could return.”

  “You…” She was going to say he didn’t have to prove himself, but he did. Not to her, but to the rest of the Invisible Swords.

  “Me?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me what you were doing?” she asked instead.

  He stiffened and the familiar stubbornness crept into his expression. “I had my reasons.”

  Oh no, she needed a better answer than that. He could have avoided hurting her. Then why— Scorching sand rats. Why didn’t she think of this sooner?

  “You suspected there was a traitor in the Invisible Sword,” she said.

  “Someone had betrayed them to the priestess, and I didn’t think it was Banqui. But I wasn’t sure who it was, so I kept my plans a secret.”

  While upset he didn’t trust her with his plans, she recognized that he’d been right not to. She would have told Jayden right away. The name stabbed into her and the exhaustion from…everything…caught up to her.

  “Timin,” Rendor snapped. “See to her wound.”

  The man had been standing there politely waiting as they talked, but he sprang into action.

  Shyla waved him off. “I’m fine. It’s shallow.”

  But Rendor was determined and there was no force that could counter a determined Captain Rendor. So she settled on a cushion and allowed Timin to clean and bandage the cut on her neck. Rendor ordered his men to carry Yates and the Water Prince to the black cells. And, she had to admit, that improved her mood greatly.

  Hanif and Kaveri were fetched and updated.

  Hanif slapped Rendor on the back and beamed at him when he learned of Rendor’s actions. It was a huge reversal of Hanif’s opinion of the man from when this all started and Shyla had gone to the First Room of Knowledge to find information about the Invisible Sword.

  His reaction to the news about Jayden’s betrayal wasn’t as happy. “Jayden? Are you sure?” he asked in stunned disbelief.

  “I’m sure.”

  Rendor, though, didn’t say a word, just gazed at her in concern. She wondered if he’d suspected Jayden all along.

  “You still need someone to rule,” Timin said. He’d been hovering nearby as if uncertain what to do.

  The person would need leadership abilities, be able to organize the various tasks that were needed to run a city, and be incorruptible. Not many people had those qualifications.

  She looked at her father. “You have lots of experience with—”

  “Not interested,” Hanif said. “Besides, I’m a sworn monk. Jayden is the true leader of this city.”

  “But—”

  “I know what you said about him, and I know you read his soul. But did you look deep enough? Or did you just search for the answers you needed?”

  Shyla opened her mouth to reply that of course she had, but then reconsidered.

  “You should have learned by now that people are capable of changing.” Hanif glanced at Rendor, making his point. “Whether or not they choose to exercise that capability is up to them.” He smiled at her. “Perhaps you should look again.”

  She huffed at her father in exasperation.

  Unaffected, he said, “In the meantime, we’re willing to step into the leadership role until then.” He took Kaveri’s hand in his.

  Kaveri gave him an unreadable look. “We are? That’s presumptuous, old man.”

  He waited.

  She sighed dramatically. “It better not take too long to find someone else, or I might get used to living like this. Do you know there are collection stations down here called water closets?” she asked Shyla in amazement.

  Shyla laughed. The release of tension soothed her. One problem solved…at least temporarily. There was still the issue with the Heliacal Priestess and her holy army.

  “Do you know what happened to the Invisible Swords after we were attacked by the guards?” she asked Rendor.

  “They retreated to Orla’s commune. Zhek checked them over and they’re all fine.”

  “I was hoping they continued with the plan.”

  “Without you they had no way to get to the priestess.”

  True.

  “There are rumors that the priestess is preparing to attack the Water Prince,” Rendor said. “She knows you’re here and will not tolerate him having The Eyes. Her only strategy is to strike before he does and hope to catch him off guard.”

  “Except she doesn’t know we’ve taken over so—”

  “The advantage is ours.” Rendor grinned.

  Hanif and Kaveri wanted to get started on familiarizing themselves with the job of running the city. They enlisted Timin’s help to show them the ex-prince’s main office.

  Shyla stood to follow them. They needed to start planning their strategy for countering the priestess, but Rendor put a big hand on her shoulder, stopping her. “You’re exhausted.”

  Not a question but a statement of fact. And she couldn’t argue as just standing up had been a colossal effort—not that she’d admit it.

  “All right. But I want a big comfortable sleeping cushion,” she said, shuffling out of the throne room. If she never returned to this place, it would be too soon.

  Rendor took her hand and led her to his old office. “Yates never used it, and all my stuff is still here.” He gestured to the sleeping cushion.

  Remembering waking up here once before, she smiled. Rendor had been so upset with her. One of the many times since she’d known him. She collapsed onto it, sinking into the softness.

  “Get some sleep,” he said, covering her with a fur.

  She tugged on his arm. “Join me.”

  “To sleep?”

  “Eventually.”

 
His surprise lasted a mere heartbeat before his expression softened. “You’re exhausted.”

  “But—”

  He brushed his lips over hers. “We’ll have plenty of time later.” But he settled in next to her. “I’ll stay until you fall asleep.”

  Resting her head on his shoulder, she pressed against him, fighting off the inevitable. The strong scent of Rendor filled her senses. And that reminded her.

  “How did you beat Yates? The last time your injuries slowed you down. Or were you faking it?”

  “No.” His grip tightened for a moment. “Not pretending at all. It was Zhek. He did…something…to my injuries. The monks did a great job saving my life, but Zhek tsked over my shoulder and hip and readjusted something. All I know is they were hurting pretty bad after that first fight with Yates, and Zhek made it all go away.”

  Another reason to test Zhek for magic. “You didn’t say anything.”

  He shrugged. “You’d been stabbed. My pain could wait.”

  Typical. She snuggled in closer. “I missed you.”

  “Being apart was torture.”

  “Good,” she said.

  He looked at her. “Good?”

  “Yes. That ensures you won’t do it again.”

  “I won’t.”

  When she woke, Rendor was gone. Not that she was surprised, but it still caused a brief moment of panic despite his promise. She understood why he’d left before and, without his efforts to recruit the guards, she’d be dead right now and not just feeling as if she’d died.

  Standing required extra effort. She wobbled as her legs adjusted to bearing weight. Good thing no one witnessed her ungainly extrication from the fur and sleeping cushion. When she was steady, she went looking for Rendor.

  The servants and guards that she passed eyed her with curiosity and not animosity. Still, she braced for someone to call out in alarm. Each intersection she fully expected to be tackled and arrested. She kept her distance from everyone out of habit, but it soon became clear she’d no idea where Rendor might be in the vast complex.

  Shyla asked a passing servant, who escorted her to a conference room. Rendor sat around a low stone table with Ximen, Mojag, and Gurice. A number of torques and deacon robes were piled on the table. A sense of urgency rumbled through the low intense tones of their discussion. Mojag spotted her first. He sprang to his feet and almost knocked her over with his strong, enthusiastic hug. The rest smiled at her with hugs in their gazes.