Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Janiya pick up the spell-chain, or what was left of it. She touched the smashed stone, and looked at me. “This is what they wanted, yes? And they took me as their hostage.”
“I had the djinn rescue you,” I said miserably. “I asked it if it preferred to stay with us, or to go back into the power of the bandits, and it said it wanted to stay with us, so I told it to get you out if it could.”
“That’s why you could give it vague instructions; it was an ally, not merely a slave.”
“Yes.” I looked down at Saken. “If I’d just given it to them . . .”
“They’d have attacked us anyway,” Ruan said.
“You really believe that?”
She shrugged. “I certainly don’t trust that they wouldn’t have. If I’d found the spell-chain, if I’d known how to work it—well, I don’t think that you did the wrong thing.”
“How did you kill the bandits?” Zhanna asked.
“I don’t know if they’re dead or not,” I said. “The djinn said that if I freed it, it would move them. To . . . somewhere else.”
We took stock of ourselves: Saken was dead, Maydan had taken a hard blow to the head and was still unconscious, and there were many smaller injuries, broken ribs and bad cuts and one ankle that began to swell badly. Gulim went to soak her injured ankle in the cold water of the river; Jolay sat beside Maydan, holding her limp hand and pressing a cloth soaked in cold water against her head. The rest of us raided Maydan’s supplies for bandages to wrap the smaller wounds. “We need to get to a healer,” Zhanna muttered as I wrapped her arm. “Both for the rest of us, and for poor Maydan.”
Janiya came by as I was dragging water back to camp for rice—dragging, because although I’d escaped serious injury, I realized as I bent to fill the pot that I’d pulled some muscles rather badly in my back and could hardly lift anything. “Has anyone seen Kara?” I asked, since Janiya had gone to see about rounding up the horses.
“She’s made her way back, as have all our other horses. We seem to have kept most of the bandits’ horses as well, and their dogs. I’m not sure where their camp is, though, and the rest of their livestock.”
“The djinn could’ve told us,” I said apologetically.
She shrugged. “You did the right thing.” I saw the glimmer of a blue bead in her hand, though she hesitated.
I glared at her. “Keep the damn thing. I know perfectly well they’re useless. That there’s no set number of beads we have to earn to win the privilege of joining the Alashi.”
Janiya smiled and tucked the bead away. “Yes,” she said. “And I think you’re ready to be one of us now. Tamar, too, of course—I’ve thought she was ready for some time. There will be a ceremony, when we rejoin the rest of the Alashi. Which will be soon. We’re going to go back to our clan for healing and rest, and we’ll be joining the other clans and sword sisterhoods and brotherhoods not long after that.”
“So I won’t have to choose between killing myself and being sold back into slavery,” I said. I tried to speak lightly, but Janiya heard the bitter edge and gave me a quick look.
“You only heard half of that story,” she said.
“Oh?”
“Yes. That was Ruan.” She paused for a moment to let that sink in. “She chose suicide—so she passed. That, finally, is the only test that really matters. If you’d rather be dead than a slave, you belong with us.”
Ruan and Jolay dug Saken’s grave near the stream, where the ground was relatively soft. They dressed her in her vest, then lay her body on a square of white felt. Jolay held up each of the vests Saken had embroidered in summers past, then folded it and slipped it under her head: the one with the beautiful horse, the one with the vines and flowers, the one of crisscrossed lines that formed shapes but no pictures. Jolay drew her dagger, and placed it gently in Saken’s right hand; Ruan slipped a thumb-ring over Saken’s thumb and curled her cold hand around a single arrow.
One by one, each of the sisters stepped forward to tuck something in with Saken’s body—a waterskin, a wrist guard, a small piece of carved karenite, a brilliant blue feather. Janiya slipped the broken spell-chain over Saken’s head, whispering something no one could hear. When it was my turn, I felt briefly at a loss—there was so little I carried that I felt was mine. Then I slipped the thong of seven blue beads from around my head, and laid it beside Saken. Tamar did the same.
A skin of kumiss was passed around; I took a swallow and managed to hide my grimace. Ruan knelt beside Saken and tipped a little of the kumiss into her mouth, then tucked the skin in beside her. Ruan and Jolay wrapped the white felt over and around her, tucking in the ends, and tied it so that it held her body and all the gifts from her sisters. Then they lowered the body into the grave and covered it with dirt. Those of us whole enough to carry them brought rocks and covered the grave with a cairn of stones.
We mounted our horses the next day. Maydan hovered on the edge of consciousness, occasionally opening her eyes but not responding to us in any coherent way. Ruan and Jolay built a bed for her using some of the yurt frame that could be dragged behind a horse. It would be a slow way to travel, but it couldn’t be helped. If we still had the djinn, I thought, then pushed the thought from my mind. We padded the frame with blankets, then put Maydan on the bed and wrapped her in a blanket, tying her in place so she wouldn’t slip off.
With Maydan being pulled behind us, we had to move very slowly. It would take us days to reach the clan at this rate, so two of the sisters were sent on ahead to tell them what had happened and ask for a healer to ride back to meet us. At one point the second day, Janiya fell into step beside me. “What would you have done if one of the other sisters had been taken hostage?” I asked. “If you had been the one to decide what to do with the spell-chain?”
Janiya was silent for a long time. Finally she said, “I would have broken the spell-chain and given it to them. I think the men in camp wouldn’t know, looking at it, that it was useless at that point; they would probably have returned the hostage, unless they’d already killed her.”
“That’s what I should have done,” I said.
Janiya shrugged. “If you’d had time to sit and think it over, maybe. I never would have thought to ask the djinn which master it preferred, to gain it as an ally instead of a slave. That wasn’t a wrong decision, Lauria. It’s just not what I would have done if I had been in the camp, and you had been taken hostage.”
It was impossible not to blame myself for Saken’s death. As we plodded slowly across the grasslands, I thought of all the many things I could have done that might have saved her. I could have ordered the djinn to circle the camp, snatching sisters out of danger. I could have ordered it to rip the weapons of the bandits out of their hands and drop them into the river. I could have ordered it to move all of us to some remote location—that would have been much safer than having it move the bandits, since we wouldn’t have been resisting. It was frightening to be swept up by a djinn, but if I’d had it say, “Don’t fear, I am Janiya’s djinn” before picking them up, I didn’t think anyone would have resisted. I could have had it move us to the very camp we were riding toward now, one by one, in a flash. I could have had it grab the sisters on the ground first, the women who were in the most danger. I could have at least asked the djinn to spy out the bandits around our camp before it got Janiya, so we’d have known exactly what we were up against. I should have. If only I’d thought of it at the time . . .
Tamar fell into step beside me at some point and reached across the space between our horses to take my hand. “I heard what you said to Janiya,” she said. “I don’t think there’s anyone here who thinks you should have just given the spell-chain to the bandits.”
“What would you have done?” I asked.
“I’d have given it to them,” she said without hesitating. “But it would’ve been a stupid thing to do. The only thing I was thinking about was getting Janiya back. I didn’t think about how they might
have people surrounding our camp.”
“They might not have attacked us if we’d given it to them. After all, they didn’t kill Janiya.”
“I think they’d have still attacked us,” Tamar said. “They didn’t kill Janiya because they didn’t know for sure that we wouldn’t send the djinn to check on her well-being before handing over the necklace.”
“There’s no way to know.”
“I suppose not, but that’s what I think. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. You did what you could to save Janiya, and all of us.”
“I did what I could think of.”
“Well, what the hell else could you do? I’d have given the spell-chain back because I wouldn’t have thought to use the djinn.”
“Thank you,” I said, but I was holding myself rigid and I knew that Tamar could tell that I still felt guilty.
That evening, as we were setting up the yurts and rolling out our blankets, Ruan rolled her blanket out beside mine. “You’ve got a right to have nightmares, blossom,” she said shortly, when I glanced at her. “I’ll put a pillow over my head if I have to.”
“Don’t put yourself out,” I said. I sat back on my own blanket. “What would you have done?”
“Like I said, I don’t know how to work a spell-chain. If I’d known—well, it’s tempting to say that I’d have been clever enough to come up with some plan that would’ve kept Saken alive and Maydan unhurt, but really, I’ve had two days to think about it, haven’t I? You had to come up with a plan standing in the supply yurt hoping that the bandit didn’t walk in to check on you.”
I didn’t say anything. When I glanced up, Ruan’s eyes were soft; I’d never seen her look quite like that. She clasped my shoulder gently. “You did the right thing, sister,” she said.
I still lay awake for hours that night, thinking of all the ways I could have kept Saken and Maydan safe.
The one thing I felt no regret for was freeing the djinn. The howl of its exhuberance when I’d smashed the binding-stone still rang in my ears when I thought of it. And it kept its promise. It would probably have gotten a bead for that, if it were trying to join the Alashi, I thought, and smiled.
Saken’s death wasn’t the first miserable failure of my life, of course. Back when I still worked for Kyros, he had sent me to a garrison, ostensibly to carry a message but really to secretly audit the commander’s books. I had warned Kyros that it was unlikely I’d be able to get into the books without the commander noticing. Everyone knows that simple messages can be carried by a djinn; when a human messenger arrives, they have an agenda that goes beyond a mere message. Kyros agreed with this and sent Myron with me; he thought the commander would assume the spy was Myron and focus on winning him over with wine and rich food. It had almost worked, but the commander had stepped back into his office for a jar of particularly good wine to share with Myron, just minutes after I’d arrived to sit down and go over the accounts list. I hadn’t gotten into trouble, of course; I had a letter from Kyros authorizing me to look at whatever I wanted. I had looked over the books, with the man glaring at me furiously long into the evening. He was not lining his pockets with the garrison’s money, but he was so shamed and angered at Kyros’s suspicions that he deserted a few months later. And he’d been caught deserting, and Kyros had had to execute him. A terrible waste. All because he’d walked in while I was checking up on him. Of course, Kyros hadn’t blamed me; it had been his idea, after all.
And that’s what it boiled down to, as long as I was following orders from Kyros; what I did was ultimately Kyros’s responsibility, not mine. If I spied on an innocent man, if I brought back an escaped slave, I was merely an extension of the hand of Kyros. Like his djinn, except bound only by my vows and my desire to please him, rather than spells. Though it was possible that Kyros had used magic on me at some point, using the link of our shared blood to keep me loyal. Even after he sent me with a man who raped me.
I have to tell Janiya, I thought as I dismounted at the end of the day to help set up camp. I can’t live a lie for the rest of my life. Janiya has to know. And Tamar—Tamar has to know, too.
My hands shook as I helped put up the yurt, thinking about it. The only people we kill in cold blood are bandits, rapists, spies, and traitors. If I were an Alashi spy among the Greeks and I were caught, the Greeks would show me no mercy. I would be tortured for whatever information I could give them—and when I was wrung utterly dry, executed in some painful and public way. Of course, if an Alashi spy switched sides and came clean, I had no doubt that Kyros, for one, would find uses for him that did not involve his slow dismemberment.
I wondered how the Alashi killed spies: burned alive, like the stories said they did with soldiers who surrendered? Or some other gruesome death? I don’t think they’ll kill me, I thought. Not when I’m turning myself in. Of course, they might demand that I return to the Greeks and spy for the Alashi—could I do that? Yes. But back among the Greeks, seeing Kyros every day, what if my loyalties shifted again?
Worse, what if the Alashi simply turned me out?
Well, maybe I could become a merchant or something. Because I’d rather die than serve Kyros again. I clung to Janiya’s words: If you’d rather die than be a slave, you belong with us.
Still, privacy in our little temporary camp was minimal, and I realized that I could hardly imagine facing Janiya right after confessing to her that I’d originally come here to betray them. This trip would be interminable enough without that between us. I’ll wait until we’re back with the clan.
We were camped near the stream but not on it, so I took the animals down to let them drink. I was stroking Kara’s neck when I saw a shimmer in the air.
“What do you want?” I said.
“I bring a message from Kyros,” the djinn said. “Lauria, I brought charges against Sophos; he is in prison, and will be executed.”
I laughed out loud. “I don’t believe you,” I said. “The Sisterhood would never agree to it. He was their tool, just as I was.”
The djinn continued its message without pausing: “I hope you understand how seriously I take his abuse of you. My djinn informs me that you and the Alashi are on the move again. Are you moving in toward the fall gathering, and do you know where that gathering will be held?”
Kyros, you can take a flying leap off the Elpisia lookout tower, I thought, but simply clamped my mouth shut and glared at the djinn.
After a moment, and a shimmering flutter, the djinn said, “If you had no response, Kyros sent the following message: ‘Lauria, I realize that you are angry at the Sisterhood right now. Please believe that your rewards will be beyond your wildest dreams. You will be able to demand Sophos’s head on a pike and his testicles as a paperweight, if that’s what you’d like. A vast house, slaves to fan your mother on hot summer days and pour tea for her in the winter, a stable of horses—you’ll have whatever you like.”
I kept my mouth shut. The djinn waited, then said, “If you had no response to that, Kyros had another message. ‘Realize, too, that you are of no use to me if you give me no information. I have not ordered the djinn to announce your treachery to your bandit queen Janiya, but I could.’ ”
I should have felt terror at that, but instead I began to laugh. “Djinn, tell me this, just how many messages did Kyros send for me?”
“He sent one more.” A hesitant flicker, then the djinn added, helpfully, “I think the Sisterhood grows impatient, and Kyros needs to prove your loyalty, whether you still offer it or not. The last message concerns your mother.”
Now panic shot through me like an arrow. I felt only the barest sense of betrayal; I’d accepted now that Kyros was no friend of mine. But to threaten my mother—
I need to think of something, I thought, and bit my lip, staring at the djinn. “Wait a moment,” I said. “I’m thinking of how best to answer Kyros’s question.” I could lie. Or tell the truth, for that matter, that I don’t know where we’re headed or where the gathering will be. Or I could promise to fin
d out and then confess to Janiya and find out where the Alashi would like Kyros to think the gathering is. Of course, Kyros will have a djinn watching me—I should have thought of that before . . .
At a loss, on impulse, I put my hand out to touch the shimmer and spoke the words of banishment: “Return to the Silent Lands, lost one of your kind, and trouble us no more.”
The djinn recoiled briefly from my touch, as if it were staggering away from me, and then it whirled in the air with a strange shriek. “There is a gate—you are a gate—” I felt the djinn glowing like a coal against my chest; it is passing through my heart, I thought, and tried to step back. “You have freed me,” the djinn said, “and I will thank you with this advice: run now.” And then it was gone.
Freed it?
The spell of a spell-chain was broken if the djinn killed someone while acting on the orders of the holder of the chain. I’d known that, of course. And the djinn could be freed if you smashed the binding-stone; I’d known that, in a vague way, even before the djinn told me how to free it. And sometimes the spell broke after the death of the sorceress. But this? I had never heard of this—that someone could touch a bound djinn, speak the words of banishment, and send it back to wherever djinni came from as if it were unbound. If it came back here, would it be bound again? I wondered.
I desperately wanted to talk to Zhanna about this, but then I’d have to explain why I was consorting with a bound djinn that I desperately wanted to get rid of—and I had to talk to Janiya first. So I kept my silence, even as my thoughts whirled, the shriek of the djinn echoing in my ears, the burn of it passing through my heart still trembling in my bones.
Run now. Did the djinn know something I didn’t, or was it snatching one last opportunity to mess with a human that it didn’t much like? Just because Janiya’s djinn had been grateful, and helpful, didn’t mean that this djinn would have anything but contempt for me. Even if I had freed it . . .
If it was telling the truth, what could it have been talking about? Kyros, I thought. He betrayed me once by sending me to Sophos—is he planning some new betrayal? Has he already set it in motion? Maybe he sent another spy here, someone who planned to get rid of me by accusing me of being a spy. Except, that didn’t make a lot of sense; it would be incredibly risky, since I’d been with the Alashi for a while and would be believed more readily than some new arrival. If Kyros had sent another spy, it would be someone I didn’t know, even if he or she had been warned to watch for me.
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