Freedom's Gate

by Naomi Kritzer

  “I liked Amin’s eyes better,” Ruan said, for once laughing with everyone else.

  “You can have Amin, I’ll take Gerhard,” Erdene said.

  “Oh, but wouldn’t Arai be jealous?”

  “At this point, I don’t think he’d complain, so long as Gerhard got me pregnant,” Erdene said, and sighed. “Do you think Janiya would be furious?”

  “Probably,” Ruan said.

  “Of course she would,” Saken said. “The question is, are Gerhard’s beautiful eyes worth it?”

  “Almost,” Erdene said with a dreamy sigh.

  Jolay opened her mouth, then shut it and slipped her arm around Maydan’s waist. Maydan glanced back at her with an amused smile and said, “I’m so pleased for you that you have the opportunity for some company.” Ruan shot her a sour look, and Maydan beamed back at her.

  When the men returned from watering their camels and setting up small tents for themselves and their men, Janiya brought out the bolt of silk we’d taken from the bandits. It was dark red, and caught the afternoon sun like a cut gem. I heard a faint sigh from Saken, near my side, and I thought she probably wanted to rub the fabric just to feel its sheen. Amin and Gerhard were good traders. Though this had to be an unexpected find, their faces showed only the same polite interest they had shown before. Amin took the bolt and unrolled it partway, to examine the fabric more closely. “This is really quite lovely. How did you come upon it?”

  “We were raided a week or so ago. The bandits found the encounter less than profitable.” Janiya let herself smirk.

  Gerhard laughed out loud and bowed yet again. “I salute you, lady, and your warriors. We encountered bandits some weeks back, but fortunately our men were able to drive them off.”

  “If the bandits you met came off the worse for your encounter, you’ve done us a good turn,” Amin said. “So we’ll give you a very good price for your silk . . .” At that point, of course, the bargaining began in earnest. I listened with some interest; I thought it a fair enough deal by the end. After the deal was concluded, Gerhard magnanimously threw in a sack of oranges for the sisterhood to share.

  There was meat with dinner; Janiya decided to have a goat slaughtered, and stewed in the pot with the beans. The meat was greasy but at least it offered some variety; I chewed each piece for a long time. There was bread, too, and even honey in a heavy clay jar. “This is the finest meal I’ve tasted since leaving Axum,” Amin said. “Your hospitality to us strangers is most gracious, and we humbly thank you. All of you.” I noticed that he drank as little of the inevitable kumiss as he possibly could while still being polite.

  “Let us offer you something,” Gerhard said after taking his own tiny, polite swallow of the curd-laden kumiss. He retreated to his own camp for a minute, then returned with a clay jug. I saw him glance at Amin, who grinned and nodded assent. “Fine Greek wine.”

  “Lovely!” Saken exclaimed, and held out her cup as Gerhard poured.

  “Aren’t you men heading west?” Ruan asked with some amusement. “Who are you going to sell the Greek wine to?”

  “No one,” Gerhard said in a conspiratorial whisper. “We drink it ourselves. And share it with our hosts. Who else would like a cup?”

  There was an instant clamor; kumiss might be what everyone was used to, but exotic Greek intoxicants were certainly not to be refused. I gladly let Gerhard fill my cup, and brought it to my lips.

  “Let me get you some wine,” Tamar said. The wine had a strange taste, as if it had started to sour. I pushed the cup away, wanting to be sober for my meeting with Sophos, but Tamar pushed it back to my lips.

  I jerked back, my hand shaking; the smell of the wine had summoned the harem so vividly for a moment I almost thought I was back there. I felt sick to my stomach; I forced myself to take a sip anyway, and shuddered. Tamar had not taken any wine at all, I noticed. I played with my cup, looking at the other women; Ruan took only a small amount, but everyone else happily let Gerhard fill their cups. From the looks on their faces, not everyone liked the taste once they tried it.

  I tried again to take a sip and could barely choke it down. Saken seemed to be enjoying her wine, so when she’d finished, I poured my wine into her cup. Ruan was watching me, a faint smirk on her face, but for once she said nothing.

  “So we heard strange rumors when we passed through Meleinaia,” Gerhard said. “The Penelopeians are planning an offensive in the fall, to wipe out the Alashi once and for all.”

  “They’re always planning to wipe us out once and for all,” Janiya said. “Did you hear any new rumors?”

  “Well, they’re bringing troops north,” Gerhard said.

  “It won’t be good for trade, if they win,” Amin said. “The Alashi keep the bandits in check along our route across this desert, mostly. The Penelopeians won’t have any reason to care. Especially as they have their own profitable trade, using djinn caravans.”

  “How can you possibly compete with that?” I asked. “They can transport far more with djinn than you can with camels.”

  “Lucky for us, the Penelopeians are greedy,” Gerhard said with an amiable laugh. “They could undercut us but they don’t bother. We aren’t enough of a threat to their empire to be worth stomping out.”

  Saken shook her head. “Neither are we—you’d think. I don’t know why they care that we’re up here.”

  “We’re their one failure,” Ruan said. “They said they’d punish the Danibeki by flooding our lands and enslaving our people, but some of us escaped. And keep escaping.”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter how many troops they bring up,” Maydan said sturdily. “We can always retreat into the desert and let the sun kill the Greeks.”

  There was a round of laughter, and everyone added the tidbits they knew about how stupid the Greeks could be: they couldn’t find water if it was right in front of their nose, they couldn’t navigate on the featureless plain, they rode oxen and called them horses, and so on. I stared into the fire, thinking about how wrong these claims really were. I’d learned how to find water from Nikon, Kyros’s kinsman and my good friend. I’d made it to the Alashi alive, even with an unexpected companion. The Greeks had spell-chains and bound aerika; they could have the aerika find water for them. For that matter, they could have an aerika water-caravan, doing nothing but refilling jugs of water from somewhere to the south and bringing them up to the army. Kyros knew how to navigate by the stars, he didn’t need landmarks any more than I did, and while the Alashi horses might be better for long rides through the desert, Zhade—a sudden lonely longing for my own horse rose up in my throat and choked me, for a moment—Zhade was certainly no ox.

  I fingered the almost-completed spell-chain on the back of my black vest. Those Greeks you’re laughing at could wipe you out, I thought. They are planning something, or Kyros wouldn’t have sent me here. And then another chilling thought: They will wipe you out, and I will help them do it. I stroked the embroidered stitches, picturing, against my will, Greek soldiers riding through the camp; the women here fought well, but if they were outnumbered, betrayed . . . It was easy to feel a small spark of pleasure imagining something bad happening to Ruan, but I had no malice toward Jolay, Maydan, Saken, Erdene. Not even toward Janiya. And certainly not Tamar.

  And why had the Sisterhood of Weavers decided suddenly this year that it was time to wipe out the Alashi? The Arch-Magia has reason to believe that the bandits are planning a larger offensive against us. So the sorceress had said. But I’d seen no evidence of that. For that matter, Kyros’s djinn hadn’t even asked me about these rumors, only whether I was trusted yet. It’s the Greeks who are planning an offensive, with me as the poison on their own arrow-tip, ready to betray from inside. But why now? And why bother? As Kyros had noted, it was the Greek bandits that caused most of the trouble anymore.

  The Greeks must want something that’s in Alashi territory. But what? I’d seen little but steppe and sky in the months I’d been here. Wiping out the Alashi is a lot of
trouble to go to just for some dried-out grass and weathered rocks. No, wait. Rocks. I closed my fist over some of the loose pebbles on the ground, and remembered the iron mine I’d passed with Sophos. There were mines in the hills on the edge of Greek territory, where people dug deep into the ground to bring out iron, lead, gold, and other things of use or value. No doubt there was more of everything under the ground I was sitting on right now. Perhaps that was what the Greeks wanted.

  Still. Even for gold, it seemed like a great deal of trouble to go to.

  Despite the fire, I was growing cold, and I could see another wineskin coming out. I excused myself and retreated to the yurt to sleep. I would have to think about this more later.

  You are my most trusted servant, and you have never disappointed me, Lauria.”

  I was in Kyros’s office, munching on a honey cake. It was early winter; there was a fire on the hearth. One of the logs snapped suddenly, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney. The light caught on a faceted bead of the spell-chain wrapped around Kyros’s wrist.

  “Is my mission complete?” I asked, wondering why I couldn’t remember how it ended. Oh yes: attack, blood, victory for the Greeks. It all seemed very distant.

  “You did perfectly. Brilliantly.” Kyros had an apple on his desk, as red as a spring flower. He cut it into slices, passing me a succulent wedge. “You have never let me down—but you truly surpassed yourself this time.”

  “I’m glad,” I said. And I was, though it was a strange, distant pleasure.

  “Name your reward, Lauria.”

  My reward? “Sophos’s head on a stake,” I said instantly.

  “I had him executed months ago, as soon as I heard. Besides, that’s justice, not a reward. I want to offer you more than that.”

  Then, of course. “Tamar,” I said. “She was one of Sophos’s slaves, and she escaped when I did. She’s become a good friend of mine. I’d like her to be freed, to come live with me. Perhaps we could find a place in town . . .”

  “A house and a . . .” Kyros almost said slave, I realized. “Tamar,” he finished. “Of course, those are easy things to arrange. I’ll have the young lady sent to you this afternoon.”

  The room seemed oddly dark, despite the fire, and I saw another glint from Kyros’s spell-chain. “Wait,” I said, and grabbed his wrist for a closer look. One bead shifted in color as I looked at it: gray to green to blue. “That’s karenite,” I said. “The soul-stone of the spell-chain is made from karenite.”

  Kyros pulled his arm back from me, looking confused. “I understand now,” I said, as the dream faded into the darkness of the yurt. “Now I know what it is you’re looking for.”

  I woke, freezing cold. I’d lost my blanket somehow in my sleep, and I was close enough to the door of the yurt that the night wind was blowing across my head. I retrieved my blanket and noticed that the yurt seemed strangely empty. Tamar was where she belonged, but Ruan was missing, and Erdene. I suppressed a snicker, thinking about the merchants and their pretty eyes. They must have slipped off to the merchants’ camp. I wondered where summer friends found the time and privacy to enjoy each other’s company . . . Well, people tend to find a way when they’re determined.

  I tucked my blanket in around me and thought about the dream. Karenite was scattered across the steppe; after that original errand I’d spotted it and picked up pieces several times. But I’d never seen it lying on the ground near Elpisia. If it’s the foundation of the Sisterhood’s power, then of course they want more of it. Need more of it. I was quite certain, mulling over what I’d pieced together, that I was right about this.

  It was strange, knowing something this important when Kyros hadn’t told me. As I slipped back down into sleep, I thought about the other part of the dream. I can trust Kyros, I thought. And whatever else comes, I will keep Tamar safe.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Close your eyes,” Zhanna said. “Find a comfortable position to sit in. Now watch your breath: in, then out. In, then out.”

  I pulled my legs up beside me, thinking that I’d be more comfortable in a chair, and wondering where the nearest chair was—probably no closer than one of the Greek garrisons on the very edge of their territory. I sat up as straight as I could, since before I’d closed my eyes I’d seen Tamar carefully arranging herself with a perfectly straight back. I tried to pay attention to my breathing, as Zhanna had suggested: in, out. In, out.

  It didn’t take me long to get bored.

  Also, my butt began to tingle, and pretty soon after that, it went to sleep entirely. So did my left leg. I considered changing position but I hadn’t heard Tamar shift, so I felt like I probably wasn’t supposed to. If I were really paying attention to my breath, if I were doing this right, I probably wouldn’t even be noticing how uncomfortable I was. I shifted discreetly. My ribs ached, though the wound was mostly healed. In, out, I told myself sternly.

  I was not cut out to be a shaman.

  Tamar, on the other hand—I could hear her breath, when I listened for it. Perfectly even, and as far as I could tell, she hadn’t moved a muscle. Beyond Tamar, I could hear a bird singing, and insects humming. Even Zhanna wasn’t moving, rot her. I had to move, finally, so I rearranged my legs and tried again to get comfortable. Now my numb left leg began to come back to life; it felt like it was being stabbed by several hundred tiny needles. I leaned forward, suppressing a groan, and flexed my foot inside my boot. Breathe. I wondered if Tamar had actually entered the open, receptive state that I suspected was supposed to be our goal here. Probably.

  Time passed. I watched the play of sun and shadow inside my eyelids, and tried to shift position often enough that my limbs didn’t fall asleep and my knees didn’t ache. I clenched my hands into fists and rubbed my thumbs against my fingers. An insect landed on my shoulder and I twitched it off. I wondered if Zhanna was going to make us sit here like this all afternoon.

  Then I heard something new: a snort. No, a snore. Then, closer, a giggle. I opened my eyes and saw that Tamar had fallen asleep; Zhanna was laughing at Tamar, and at me.

  “Wake up, sleepyhead,” she said, prodding Tamar. Tamar’s eyes flew open and darted back and forth between me and Zhanna.

  “I didn’t—” Tamar said.

  “I can’t believe you got comfortable enough to fall asleep,” I muttered.

  “I was more like Lauria,” Zhanna said cheerfully. “Twitching around like a headless chicken. I figured it was worth a try. There are people who can enter the shamanic trance just by meditating. I can do it, very occasionally. It’s the easiest way, if it’s a path that’s open to you. Clearly it’s not going to work for either of you, so let’s talk about what might work.”

  “Jaran dances,” Tamar said. “The shaman back at . . . where Lauria and I used to live. He had me drum for him.”

  Zhanna nodded. “That’s one way to do it. Drumming itself is another way. What moves you? What takes your soul to another place?”

  Riding my horse, I thought, thinking of Zhade.

  “Not dancing,” Tamar said.

  “All right, not dancing. Drumming?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What about you, Lauria?”

  “Riding,” I said, because I hadn’t come up with anything else.

  “Well, that’s not a very practical way to enter a state where you can invite the djinn. But if physical things work well for you, maybe you can try dancing.”

  I shrugged.

  “We’ll bring a drum along next time,” Zhanna said.

  “You’re teaching us how to talk to the djinn,” Tamar said. “What if the djinn decide on their own to talk to us?”

  “Well, that happens sometimes, of course,” Zhanna said. “Sometimes djinni possess people who didn’t invite them. Has that ever happened to either of you?”

  We shook our heads.

  “Djinni who possess the unwilling are sometimes very angry; more often, they’re just trying to cause trouble. They seem to find it amusing. According
to our stories, djinn-possession used to be very rare. It’s become much more common as the enslavement of djinni has become more common.”

  “It seems to happen a lot less here than it did back in Helladia,” Tamar said.

  “The djinn know that we aren’t their enemies,” Zhanna said. “It does happen here sometimes, but you’re right, less often. At any rate, the djinn can possess the unwilling, as well as shamans; if this happens to you, you probably won’t be able to do much about it. Do you know of any other ways that the djinn might speak to you?”

  “Dreams,” Tamar said.

  “That’s right. It is my belief—” Zhanna lowered her voice a little, though no one else was around “—well, there are those who say that Athena spoke to Alexander in dreams, before he conquered Olympus and took Zeus’s throne. I think that when people think their dreams were sent by Athena, or by Alexander—or for that matter by Arachne or Prometheus—they are actually hearing the djinn.”

  I thought about the vivid nightmares I’d had about Sophos. If those were from the djinn, what were the djinn trying to tell me? Don’t trust Sophos? I bit back a snicker. I didn’t need the djinn to tell me that.

  “Do you believe in Arachne and Prometheus?” Tamar asked Zhanna.

  Zhanna shrugged and I could see that she was trying to think of a diplomatic response. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen either one. I pray with the rest of the sisterhood as a sign of respect for my sisters; if Arachne and Prometheus don’t exist, I’ve wasted nothing but time. If they do exist, I’m sure they’re bright enough to know that my devotion isn’t exactly heartfelt, but I doubt they worry too much about me and the other shamans. Now, back to the djinn; there is one other way that the djinn might choose to speak to you, and that is simply to speak to you. It’s rare, but they can do it if they choose to.”

  “Why wouldn’t they just talk to us instead of sending dreams?” Tamar asked.

  “Dreams are the closest most people ever get to the Silent Lands. When you’re asleep, sometimes the djinn can talk to you from their own side of the web.”