How hot before the stone melts?
Rising, he pulled on a clean set of robes and contemplated the day ahead: A door-to-door search for the scarred girl. It would be dangerous. The memory of the attack when they came out to the Wheat District was still fresh. Faces twisted by rage, bared teeth and savage snarls. They wanted to kill him. And today he was going to walk into their territory, in search of a girl who may well be a ranking Loa, with fewer Hummingbird Guards than he had that first day.
I have to be ready. This time he would not be caught helpless and unprepared.
Not knowing what he might face, Akachi decided on a more physical approach. Collecting the tools of his trade, he sat cross-legged on his bed and took an hour to prepare a mixture of narcotics consisting mostly of foku and aldatu. Selecting the completed carving of Gau Ehiza, the puma spirit-animal, he tucked it in his belt. Perhaps Gau Ehiza was not as strong as the bear he was still working on, it was still much stronger than Akachi. It was also a great deal faster.
With the narcotics finding his blood and thinning the veil between worlds, he locked his control tight, careful to let no hint of his reality-twisting power escape. His allies awaited his call, pressed against the veil separating his reality from theirs, stretching it just shy of snapping.
Akachi headed for the main hall.
As always, the Hummingbird Guard were already up and about. He found Captain Yejide, Njau, and Khadija waiting.
“Nafari and the others just left,” said Yejide as he joined them.
Njau and Khadija stood impassive and silent. Seeing him, they spun and exited the main entrance without a word.
“Everything all right?” Akachi asked.
“This isn’t a good idea,” said Yejide. “It’s dangerous out there. The three of us are insufficient protection.”
“I can’t hide in the church. Cloud Serpent has shown me my prey. I must find her.” He flashed a quick grin. “And this time I am ready for trouble.”
She examined him, eyes narrowed.
“We will go door-to-door asking after the scarred girl,” said Akachi. “Someone must have seen her. The scar is too distinctive.”
“They’ll lie,” said Yejide. “We will learn nothing and you will be exposed to attack.”
“I do my god’s bidding.”
Captain Yejide nodded grim acceptance. Not that she had much choice. “Stay close. We enter no homes; I don’t want us cornered. If I tell you to run, you run. You don’t wait for me. You don’t turn back to see if we are following. You don’t do anything stupid or heroic. You run.”
There was no mistaking the worry and concern in her eyes. I’m not just her ward. She cares. He wanted to touch her, to hold her, to tell her it would all be fine, that they did the gods’ will.
“Of course,” he lied. No way he would leave her behind. He would never abandon her to danger.
Yejide leaned in close to study his eyes and he smelled the warmth of her, felt her sheer physicality like a wall.
She’s an extension of Bastion. Her connection to the last city ran deep in her blood. It defined her somehow.
“You’re smoky.”
“If we are attacked, I will not be helpless.”
“What did I just tell you about running?” she demanded.
Akachi shrugged, grinning sheepishly.
“What am I going to do with you?”
He had several suggestions but kept them to himself.
Shaking her head, she led him from the church.
Out in the street the full fury of the sun bent its will against Akachi. Fleeing back to the shade suddenly looked a lot more appealing. He’d suggest they come back and do this on a cooler day, but there weren’t cooler days. Not anymore.
Discomfort is nothing. I do Cloud Serpent’s will.
Growers shuffled about their filthy lives, moving even slower than usual. Shimmering mirages turned distant streets into bright wavering mirrors like the sun reflected off water. Flocks of birds wheeled lazy circles in endless blue skies. Was it cooler up there? Did they enjoy breezes that never reached the choking streets of the Wheat District?
The carved hawk in his belt beckoned, promised freedom from this stifling heat. He wanted that, to fly far above the concerns of both man and god, to dive and turn, to escape the stench of Dirts. He could become the hawk, return to his home in the Priests’ Ring in a few short hours. He imagined the surprise on Mom’s face as he burst through the door and pulled her into a big hug. Father would be at the Cloud Serpent High Temple. Imagining his reaction, when he returned home to find his son had fled the Growers’ Ring and abandoned his responsibilities, killed the dream. Father would never forgive him.
I cannot fail. I will not fail.
All morning Akachi, Yejide, Njau, and Khadija went door-to-door, asking if anyone had seen the scarred girl. Yejide and Njau always positioned themselves between Akachi and the Dirts, ready should someone attempt to lunge at him with a weapon. No one did. Khadija remained behind him, covering his back.
Teams of lumbering oxen dragged massive wagons loaded with grains inward to the Crafters’ Ring, or hauled penance wagons out to the Sand Wall. They moved grudgingly, often suffering the lash of the driver.
Any hotter and Bastion will grind to a halt. He remembered the vision, smoke and ash. Or burn. Casting a glance out toward the distant fields, Akachi saw only a haze of red dust blurring the horizon.
Every tenement was the same. Dirts eyed him with suspicion, but bowed their heads in meek obeisance. No, they hadn’t seen such a girl. Yes, if they did, they’d report her to his church immediately.
“It’s not possible,” grumbled Akachi as they approached another block of tenements. “The Wheat District isn’t that big. Someone must have seen her.”
“They’re lying,” said Yejide. “If you want the truth from these Dirts, ask Bishop Zalika for more Guards. We’ll return in force, drag them from their homes and bring them back to the church. Strap them to an altar and the truth will shine through the dirt-stench of their lies.”
She was right. He saw it in the surly glances, the ill-concealed loathing.
The people of this district are too far gone. Yet he hesitated. The memory of opening that man’s throat, of bleeding him on the altar, haunted Akachi.
What if we grab someone who honestly doesn’t know the girl, has never seen her? Yejide wouldn’t hesitate to break a few Growers to get what she wanted.
Cloud Serpent sent you here to do his will. Why are you hesitating? Held before the will of his god, what was the life of one Dirt worth? What of a thousand?
I am a nahual of the gods of Bastion, a sworn shepherd to all her people.
Even the lowliest Grower.
Leaving another tenement and heading into the street toward the next block, Akachi saw a clump of four Growers. Unlike the others, these moved with purpose, angling to intercept Akachi and his Hummingbird retinue. One of the Growers raised her face and a shock of recognition ran through him.
Yejide saw them too. “Akachi,” she said, voice sharp. “Stay behind us.” She glanced back, checking the street behind them. “It looks clear. If I say run—”
“I’m not running,” said Akachi. “I’ve seen her before. I saw her when we left the Northern Cathedral and again when I sat outside, carving.”
“You should have said something,” Yejide growled.
“I wasn’t sure.” Which wasn’t quite true. He’d been about to and then there was that whole fiasco with the Dirt baby born outside of the church.
Cudgels drawn, Yejide, Khadija, and Njau moved to block the Growers’ approach, Akachi behind them. They stood ready, relaxed but poised for violence.
The Growers slowed and stopped before the Hummingbirds. They showed no fear. Up close, the girl with the impossibly bright eyes was even more beautiful, soft and curved, with flawless skin.
The whites of her eyes shone like a fire lit her from within. Those gorgeous eyes fixed on him and stole his breath. His
thoughts, a moment ago sharpened by foku, slowed to the sludge crawl of thick mud.
“She’s unarmed,” Akachi said, trying to calm the Hummingbirds. He couldn’t bear to see this woman hurt.
“She’s got something in her hands,” said Yejide. “Stones of some kind.”
Stones…something…a series of lectures. Akachi couldn’t remember, didn’t care.
“I would speak with the nahual,” said the young woman, voice soft like silk.
“Speak,” said Yejide, keeping herself between Akachi and the girl.
“I would speak to the nahual,” she repeated, “in private.”
Akachi wanted that. Alone. Just the two of them. That perfect skin. The curves her thobe did little to conceal. Those eyes. He drowned in them, sank deep, and disappeared, all concerns and worries washed away.
He opened his mouth to tell Yejide to step aside when the captain said, “No.”
“It’s fine,” said the woman, soft, full lips promising everything. “I’m not going to hurt him.”
“It’s all right,” said Akachi. “Step aside.”
“No,” said Yejide.
“Captain,” said Akachi, “I am in charge here. Step aside. I would speak with this—”
Without warning Yejide lashed out with her cudgel, striking the woman on the temple with a vicious scything swing. Bone shattered, the occipital cavity caving in and rupturing her left eyeball.
The woman fell.
Akachi knew an instant of stunned confusion. Why had he ignored Yejide’s warning? Why had he commanded her to let this woman pass? Why had the Captain ruined that perfect face?
Cudgels appearing from under thobes, the three Dirt men hurled themselves at the Hummingbirds. Akachi retreated, dazed. The hard slap of ebony on flesh. The hiss of wood parting air. Someone grunted in pain. The Hummingbirds advancing, the fight moved past the woman with the broken skull, leaving her and Akachi behind.
With a grunt, she pushed herself back to her feet.
Perfect once again, flawlessly beautiful, the young woman grinned at Akachi, raising her right hand toward him. She bore no weapon, but her hand wasn’t empty. She held what looked like a shard of raw stone, a crystal tainted deep red, like old blood. There was something in her other hand too, another chunk of crystal, though he couldn’t see what.
Such perfect skin. Such bright eyes. She was his dream woman in every way.
Crystals. Stones That mattered, meant something. Struggling, his thoughts finally coughed up a single word: Loa.
The woman stepped toward Akachi and he stood waiting, wanting to flee, wanting to touch her. Wanting her to touch him.
Yejide must have seen something in her peripheral vision, because she spun and shattered the woman’s right knee with her cudgel. The Captain’s opponent tried to take advantage of her distraction and tackle her, but she neatly side-stepped his charge. As he passed her she struck him hard in the back of the skull with a hollow thock! He pitched forward and fell motionless to the street.
The young woman regained her feet, knee whole. She lunged at Yejide, trying to touch her with the shard of red stone. Avoiding the hand, Yejide broke the elbow with her cudgel. In rapid succession she shattered both the girl’s knees, caved in her trachea, and struck her in the temple. She moved like a jaguar, perfect balance, absolute economy of motion.
The beautiful woman fell, gagging and choking, and Akachi’s thoughts cleared.
She’s using crystal magic. Forbidden by the gods as tainted sorcery, it was the sole purview of the Loa. Stone sorcery. Crystal magic. Mother Death.
She’s a Loa assassin.
Khadija disarmed her opponent, broke his collarbone and one of his ankles, and kicked him in the face. She turned in time to see the young woman again rise to her feet. Hard Eyes struck from behind, breaking several ribs. The Loa assassin crumpled once again. Stepping forward, Khadija raised her cudgel to deliver a skull shattering blow. The assassin reached out and touched the blood-red stone to the exposed skin of Khadija’s leg beneath the hem of her armoured leather skirt. The softest caress.
In an instant Khadija suffered a dozen wounds. The side of her skull caved in, the occipital bone shattered, and her left eye burst. Her knees and elbows broke as if struck by invisible cudgels. Her throat collapsed, trachea smashed flat. She pitched forward, face slamming into the unyielding stone of Bastion, gagging through her crushed throat, the back of her skull misshapen.
The beautiful woman, once again flawless, pushed back to her feet, unhurt. Bright eyes brimming with madness, she smiled at Akachi. This time, instead of lust, he knew only fear.
Crystal sorcery, the blackest of arts. He knew next to nothing of it, could barely remember the lectures he sat through back in the Northern Cathedral. It had all seemed so unreal, so far away, like the stories of the earliest days of Bastion.
Yejide, who’d turned to help Njau dispatch his opponent, saw the woman rise. “Break her!”
She and Njau circled the Loa assassin, smashing her, breaking bones, and crushing her skull. Each time she rose again, flawlessly beautiful, unharmed. Each time her eyes shone brighter, glowing with utter insanity. The bloody shard of stone pulsed with foul energy ravaging the world around her, twisting Akachi’s guts into a tight knot of terror.
The assassin lunged at Njau and he managed to block her arm with his cudgel. The two fell, the woman on top, struggling to touch him with the stone.
Stone sorcery. Different kinds of crystals did different things. Akachi racked his brain trying to remember the lectures on Loa sorcery. He recognized the crystal in her left hand: violet amethyst. He couldn’t remember its sorcerous properties. Her right hand… the deep red crystal… adrenalin and fear scattered his thoughts.
Garnet!
Yejide kicked the woman off Njau and leapt back to avoid being touched.
“The stones,” Akachi yelled, “get them away from her!”
Yejide lashed out with her cudgel, striking the assassin’s hand and pulverizing the bones. The woman screamed but somehow didn’t drop the stone. It remained clutched tight in her broken fist. Yejide and Njau attacked, crushing bones, beating her to the ground, yet she healed even as they broke her. She rolled, darting a hand out toward Njau and he jumped away, narrowly avoiding her touch. Yejide struck her in the hand again and still the stone remained locked tight in her ruined fist.
We have to remove the hand. But the Hummingbirds of the Growers’ Ring carried no cutting weapons.
Akachi dragged the carving of a puma from its pouch behind his belt. Every hair seemed real, the eyes glowed green. It was easily one of his best works.
Blood singing with the blended narcotics he ate before leaving the church, Akachi caressed the veil between worlds. It bent at his touch, stretched to snapping. There, on the far side, prowled Gau Ehiza, the puma spirit-animal, the archetype of the perfect hunting cat.
Akachi called the spirit through the veil. It pounced, entering him, infusing his soul. The scared and confused boy was gone, replaced with raw, predatory intelligence. Opening himself to the spirit, welcoming Gau Ehiza to his soul, Akachi became the puma. Inky black fur burst from his flesh. His limbs bent and twisted, joints cracking and reforming. It was agony. Great fangs filled his mouth and he tasted the air on his tongue.
Prey everywhere. Warm meat, alive and terrified.
A woman wrestled with the woman he cared deeply for and a protective, possessive rage filled him. Black light, reality twisting sickness, stained the air around his enemy’s fist. It was wrong. The gods forbid such sorcery for a reason. Such stones were the tools of Mother Death, God of Earth and Rock. She sang through crystals, her light, the hard glint of diamond.
The Loa sought to topple Father Death from his place at the head of the Pantheon, to replace him with Mother Death, the god who had once been his wife. If they had access to such stones, could draw on her power, she must be closer to gaining access to the city than the nahual knew! He had to report this to Bishop Zali
ka. He had to get word to his father!
The Loa assassin, healed once again, struggled with Yejide as Njau angled for another killing blow.
It won’t work. You can’t kill a servant of Mother Death. At least not while she held a shard of garnet in her fist. Freed from adrenalin and fear, he remembered the stone’s properties. It was used to heal wounds by storing the damage in the stone. Those stored wounds could be released from the stone onto anyone it touched. Every time they hurt her, they were building her power.
Akachi attacked, powerful jaws closing around the woman’s wrist. He bit down, shaking her like an angry child shakes a doll. Blood filled his mouth, hot and salty. The delicious taste of life.
No wonder the gods craved the precious fluid! Bones snapped and broke beneath his teeth. Sweet marrow!
Shaking her again, he bit through her wrist. The hand fell away, stone still clutched tight. Akachi swallowed blood and flesh.
Something touched the side of his skull, cold and hard.
The other stone. She had two. He’d been so focussed on figuring out the garnet he forgot the other.
The Loa assassin grinned in victory. “I’ve got you,” she whispered into his feline ear.
He saw the raw shard of violet amethyst in her other hand and remembered: The stone of self-destruction. It made people weak, susceptible to addiction, depression, and self-destructive behaviour. She touched me.
Akachi sank his jaws into her throat. Blood rushed to fill his mouth, hot silk, thick and salty. He savaged her, a growl rumbling deep in his chest as the bones in her neck collapsed beneath his teeth. Raw animal hunger and fear won out, washed Akachi away in a torrent of need.
He couldn’t stop himself. The puma was hungry, and he was weak.
Akachi fed on the corpse, aware of Yejide and Njau keeping a safe distance. The streets were empty of people, the Growers having fled. Need sated, he found himself and drove Gau Ehiza back through the veil. He sat in the street, red with blood, and watched it trickle toward the nearest gutter and flow toward the heart of Bastion.
The gods always get their share.
Gore soaked him, splashed his face, ran from his hair. His clothes stuck to him, drenched.
Smoke and Stone Page 14
