by S Kaeth
Dode stepped toward Ra’ael, but Mekl held out a hand, stopping her. “Take care.”
“Pah! I will be fine, Lord Mekl.”
“Are such barbarous shows of violence common among your people?” Mekl looked at Taunos, his gaze critical and aloof, with no sign of concern for his wellbeing. Ra’ael resisted the urge to snarl at him.
“I’m fine.” Taunos dusted himself off and gestured at Ra’ael. “She’s fine, too. You can let her go. She’s not going to hurt anyone.”
The guards looked at Lord Mekl for confirmation. His gaze darted between Dode and Taunos, and he gave a reluctant nod. “Let her go.”
“Whatever got into you?” Dode asked Ra’ael, at once angry and concerned.
Ra’ael shook her head, trying to contain the rising panic. She wanted to run over to Taunos and shake him until he told her everything. She wanted to whisk him away from his captors, but she couldn’t leave Takiyah alone. If Taunos was affected so, what was Takiyah enduring? “He should have blocked it, and easily. I never should have been able to land that punch.”
“Is that how your people greet each other?” Dode’s voice held judgement.
Ra’ael clenched her fists. How could Dode not understand? “Something is wrong with him!”
Dode shook her head, and Ra’ael knew this conversation wasn’t over. Dode would expect an explanation at her home, and Ra’ael fully intended to give her one. There were protocols to observe here, just as there were at home. She would find out what was going on, but she would go about it in such a way that she could use Dode’s resources to aid in her investigation.
“Are we to continue?” The older Kamalti from before was back, wringing his hands and looking askance at Ra’ael. She refrained from glowering at him or provoking him—barely. Mekl, Dode, and the administrator—what was his name… Kerim?—stepped to the side to discuss the potential dangers of proceeding in hushed whispers. Taunos began to pace, though it was more of a trudge, his grace and balance and energy stolen from him somehow.
Ra’ael stood in his path, but he barreled through her like she wasn’t even there.
“Taunos, what happened to you?” she asked again, walking beside him. He gave her a black look and stopped, leaning against the wall.
“Taunos, please.”
“I do not believe you, Ra’ael. Going along with this?”
“I’m sorry I hit you. Why did you not block it?”
He scowled. “You know I’m not mad about that.”
Ra’ael crossed her arms, her temper rising. “Why did you not dodge?”
“It does not matter,” he said and stared up at the ceiling.
Ra’ael narrowed her eyes at him. He was impossible. Clearly, he’d already decided something, and that something didn’t include telling her. Nothing would change his mind—he was as bad as Kaemada in that. As bad as Kaemada had been.
Hastily, she turned her thoughts elsewhere. She stared at the entry door, waiting for it to open and admit Takiyah. Behind her, Dode was insisting that the risk was low, and the administrator worried about recuperating their costs if they cancelled. Ra’ael waited, letting Taunos sulk while hushed voices made plans for their future without consulting them. Did she want to continue with the event? She didn’t know. She did want to see Takiyah, she knew that much. Was Takiyah being treated like Taunos?
The administrator nodded, bowed, and hustled away. Dode came over to her with Mekl walking at her side, and Ra’ael straightened. Beside her, Taunos continued to lean against the wall, staring at the ceiling, and Ra’ael shifted to stand between him and Mekl, a strange flicker of protectiveness washing over her.
“We will proceed,” Dode said. “Two famous opera singers are scheduled after you, so we may as well. However, Ra’ael, I feel I must warn you again about your precarious situation with the Scouts.”
“I know,” Ra’ael snapped. Eloí’s light, she hadn’t meant to hit Taunos at all!
Dode frowned at her but said nothing else. They waited, the four of them, in silence while the murmuring of voices filtered in from the door leading to the stage. The seats must be filling up out there. Attendants ran in every direction, readying final preparations and shouting orders to each other. And yet, the door drew Ra’ael’s eye, and Takiyah still did not come through.
Finally, the lights dimmed. “It is time,” one of the attendants said breathlessly, pausing by them. His gaze was on Mekl and Dode, instead of Ra’ael or Taunos. “Are they ready?”
“Takiyah’s not here!” Ra’ael protested.
“We must stay on schedule.” the attendant said.
“We are expecting another Rinaryn. The tall one,” Dode said. “You will be sure to have someone watch for her and send her right out when she arrives.”
“Yes, my lady,” the attendant said. “Come, the usher is here to show you to your viewing boxes.”
Dode turned and smiled at Ra’ael before leaving, but Ra’ael found it hard to smile back. She glanced at the door again. Where was Takiyah? Taunos began pacing again, and she noticed him looking toward the door, too. The attendant beckoned to them, but Ra’ael ignored him. What did time matter when Takiyah wasn’t there yet?
The attendant stabbed his finger toward the curtain. “Get over here, you animals, or I will have the guards force you. And if I do, mark my words, your Kamalti betters will not let you see the daylight orbs for many cycles!”
Well, that wouldn’t help her make anything better for Taunos or Takiyah, wherever she was. Ra’ael walked over, touching Taunos’s shoulder lightly as she passed to draw him with her. She glanced at the door again before the stage swallowed them. The spirits had to hear them, didn’t they? She’d been careful not to include any religious songs, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t pray as she danced. The music always made the prayers flow more freely.
Lights blinded her. Dimly, she was aware of a sea of Kamalti hidden somewhere in the darkness, watching. It felt more like a dream than reality. Taunos began the beat on the drum, and the sound reverberated off the walls, filling the air. His timing was off and the sound did not float freely in the open sky as it should have. Suppressing a wince, Ra’ael turned in a slow circle to begin the Preparation Dance. Taunos’s clumsiness made it difficult to follow the rhythm, and sometimes she found herself leading him, though the dancer leading the drummer was wrong, wrong, wrong! Still, she did her best to embrace the dance, performing the sweeping circles that would allow small prey animals to flee, clear the land of small rocks, and lay the grass down flat.
Taunos’s expression, caught in glimpses as she turned, was creased with concentration. Dismay clenched a fist in her gut. The beat was something a child of five summers could keep. Taunos should have been able to do it with ease, yet he failed at the rhythm. The side door continued to call her, where Takiyah still did not appear.
The Preparation Dance ended, and Ra’ael took the drum from Taunos, standing next to him. She met his gaze, trying to give him some reassurance or comfort, but her heart was low, and her head was full of worries. She tapped the beat, then nodded the cue to begin the next song, a child’s lullaby such as she’d sung to Eian. Taunos’s baritone was strong and clear, but he sang as if he was sleeping, and they were sorely missing Takiyah to lend the complexity of a second harmony. Frustration and worry roiled like a storm inside her as they ended, and she was left with intense dissatisfaction. Songs were important. It would have been bad enough, ruining the music at home. It was even more humiliating to do so on display in front of people who despised them when they thought of them at all. This had been a huge mistake.
But the Honoring Song was next, and Ra’ael threw her heart into it. Taunos remained behind the beat more often than not, scowling to himself as he tried to match time with her. She imagined the lines of Rinaryn that should stretch beyond them as they circled and twirled, honoring those who were no longer with them: Kaemada, her own family, and all those whose voices no longer joined their song. Their song, which was so m
uch smaller than it should have been.
The Seeker Song’s strong beat and indomitable air seemed to re-energize Taunos somewhat, and the sound of the rhythmic stamping as they clapped their hands against each other’s hands, chests, arms, or legs in the complex rhythm filled the space. At one point, Taunos’s palm hit her hard, rocking her backward. She came right back at him on reflex, resuming the rhythm, part of her eager for a spar. They were both Galod’s students, after all. And for just a moment, he grinned, and there was a glimmer of the real Taunos in his eyes, ready to meet her challenge. Pride filled Ra’ael in the wild rush of music, a balm to her soul as they followed up with two children’s songs.
Taunos ended their selection of songs playing on a borrowed pipe as Ra’ael lent her powerful contralto to the ancient lay of Emaríah the Fair. The instrument was slightly different than a Rinaryn pipe, and the sound a little off, but it was better than nothing.
Then it was over. Takiyah had not come, and as Taunos returned the pipe and stomped off the stage, his shoulders drooped once more. Ra’ael sighed as Mekl collected Taunos and brought him up the stairs to the balconies of the Opera House. He left without a word to her. She’d failed him. This event had helped nothing. Something was wrong with both Taunos and Takiyah, and it was her responsibility to fix it. Yet as a captive, what could she do?
“That was beautiful.” Dode swept over with a smile.
Ra’ael looked at her and then the stairs Taunos had trudged up, unable to force a smile in return. Applause rang out as she followed Dode out of the Opera House, and then a single, undulating tune wavered and hung in the air, without the intricacies of harmonies or complex rhythms. The Kamalti opera had begun.
“Where was Takiyah? And what is wrong with Taunos?” she asked as she and Dode began the walk back.
The older woman nodded. “Yes, I saw it during the concert. Though I still do not understand why you felt the need to punch the poor man in the face.”
“I told you, I never should have been able to land a punch.”
“I will inquire of Lord Mekl when next I see him.”
“Do you think he will answer truthfully?”
Dode shot her a warning look. “Do not forget your place.”
Ra’ael glowered at her, but held her tongue and dropped back a pace to follow Dode through the throng of people coming and going in the market square. She’d speak her mind at Dode’s home, where there were no Scouts to worry about.
~
Now was her chance, and there may not be another one. No chain bound her any longer—her captors imagined her spirit was sufficiently broken. Takiyah’s body ached, riddled with bruises. Someone threw twine in the air for her, and like a well-trained animal, she incinerated it. She glared at the Kamalti who thought they could own her as they haggled over the price for viewing her “magic.” The price didn’t matter. It had no effect on her treatment.
Several entertainments dotted the market, but one draw her eye like the metal drew her heart: a great, round piece of fabric attached to a little basket. They called it a “balloon” and used it to clean the massive collection of light orbs overhead that marked the day and night cycles. Afterward, it gave rides to children. Just now, the balloon’s driver was helping some children out of the basket, while others jumped about, clamoring to get on.
As soon as the last child left, she could make her move. If she could drive the balloon, she could escape. She wouldn’t be able to bring Taunos and Ra’ael along, but she might be able to bring them some help. Taunos had looked well enough, though very strange with his head shaved, when she glimpsed him just before the incident in the market. A few days before that, she’d seen Ra’ael, just as striking as ever and apparently almost friendly with her captor. Hopefully, she was right and they could wait for rescue. Otherwise guilt and regret would crush her. But she couldn’t take another beating.
The last child finally stepped out of the basket, and Takiyah surged forward, leaping over her booth. Kamalti shouted, scattering before her, their voices filled with fear. That’s right—she was a savage on a rampage. She shot little bursts of flames before her, encouraging the people to be quicker about getting out of the way.
“Stop!”
“Get back here, you maggot!”
She ignored the demands of her captors, just as she ignored the cries of the people she nearly ran over. This was her only chance. She would not let it pass her by.
Takiyah’s feet pounded the stone, gripping it and throwing her forward as her hair streamed wildly behind her. A sense of dreaminess, of having done this before, tickled the edges of her mind. The thrill of racing toward danger, of testing herself against the unknown. The rightness of it. She narrowed her eyes, dismissing the fancies. She darted around the line of children and leapt over the side of the basket, shooting small bursts of flame up into the hollow of the balloon. The children and the balloon’s owner spilled out and away with screams and cries. She turned one hand outward, shooting fire at any who got too close, keeping the crowd well back. She bared her teeth in a feral grin at her captors’ horrified faces, turning her flames on them when they neared.
But now was no time to gloat, for her escape had only begun.
“Cut the ropes!” she ordered the balloon’s owner.
“That is my balloon!”
She leveled her hands at him. “Cut the ropes.”
“Get the other one!” Someone in the crowd pointed at Ra’ael, bright in her priestess shroud. What was she doing there, and how had she regained her old clothes?
Another Kamalti threw themself at Ra’ael, and the two fell to the ground, while more circled around Ra’ael’s captor, who was scolding them all in outrage. Futile. These people were monsters. And none more so than the man who rose to his feet, a knife to Ra’ael’s throat. Her captor, Hardy.
“If you leave, she dies!” he yelled.
“You will not do it,” Takiyah shouted.
“Watch me.”
Ra’ael met her eyes as Takiyah weighed her options. Then the priestess warrior smiled. The message was clear: go and leave her behind. Leave her in this nest of monsters.
But if anyone could get out of that bind, it was Ra’ael.
Takiyah nodded. She shot fire upward so the balloon strained against its ropes, then burned the ropes until they snapped. With a jolt that nearly threw her off her feet, she was free.
A breath of prayer left her lips as the crowd churned below, and Ra’ael fought for her life. Please, please, let Ra’ael make it out of this. Let them all make it out alright.
Takiyah turned her attention to the balloon’s controls. The spark of her curiosity had dimmed till it guttered, nearly extinguished by her captivity. Now, it flared to fill her with the need to know everything. The familiarity of it soothed her aching spirit, and tears sprang to her eyes. A contraption hung from the left side, and she turned the handle. After a few moments, the balloon drifted to the side. She swung the handle to the other side, smiling when the balloon followed after a delay. Turning to the central flames, she twisted a knob. The fire went out. The balloon dropped, and Takiyah shot fire upward with one hand, quickly spinning the knob in the opposite direction with the other. The fire didn’t reignite, though her flames kept the descent slow. She didn’t want to go down, though! She shot a small stream toward the fire-maker, and a swoosh sounded as the air caught fire. A cackle of laughter escaped her, though the fireball had singed her hair. The balloon was rising again, fire spouting upward from the fire-maker in the middle.
This was how she was meant to live—on the edge, with a chance of survival, of adventure. Not that captivity she’d run from, but this wild freedom, where only her choices, her wits and her strength, determined whether she lived or died. Whether she crashed or flew.
Takiyah checked below her. The fighting seemed to be dying down, and she searched for Ra’ael. She had to be ok. But she couldn’t see any sign of her, though the light blue of her shroud or the sleek black of her hair shou
ld be easy to spot. She couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing, and it didn’t matter. She’d made her decision, and there was no going back now.
The rock wall of the cavern loomed, and Takiyah turned the rudder to the side. The word had just popped into her head. A rudder. Only, somehow, not quite. She didn’t know what was wrong with it, but now was not the time to examine her randomly appearing new knowledge. The sharp rocks were getting closer. Was it just the delay of inertia, or had she swung the rudder the wrong way? She was running out of time. She slammed the rudder to the other side.
Too late. A sickening rip sounded as a rock tore through the fabric of the balloon. The whole thing plummeted. Takiyah raised her hands, her stance wide for some small hope of balance, and erupted flames upward to slow the balloon. Still, the ground rushed toward her.
She leapt at the last second, trying to roll to distribute the impact, but the basket, ropes, and the balloon itself tangled her, and her world reduced to darkness and pain. Someone grabbed her arm, dragging her out of the mess. She struggled, but her limbs wouldn’t work right. Her head swam with agony, the world dimming and going out of focus as she moved. Her dreams of escape were as ruined as the balloon.
Angry, shouting masses surrounded her. Takiyah clutched at consciousness, refusing to let it go, forcing herself to look around. More information meant more chances of… something. Hardy glanced back at her, his face twisted with scorn as he and Mettle dragged her away to “correct” her in the privacy of their home.
ÌTAL-CHA’A
Chapter Seventeen
I encourage you, my son, to continue as I have begun. Do not let any psion know who the others are. Their shame is our power, their need for secrecy, our strength. Always keep at least two, preferably three, close by, and treat your psions well. In the event of a mutiny, they will not know if they can trust each other. Never allow weapons in the presence of your psions on pain of death, for an overly ambitious guard will strive to take them out first before coming for you. Guard them as you guard yourself.
