“We don’t need this much.” I thought about the army of slaves the eldress had mentioned so casually. “There are hundreds of pieces in this bag.”
Janiya studied me for a moment. Then she shrugged and said, “How much do you think we should bring?”
“Ten pieces each,” I said. I was thinking that would be twenty pieces, but she took out three small bags and counted ten into each.
“Who else is coming?” I asked.
“Me,” said a voice behind me.
I turned. It was the young man who’d snubbed me last night during the ritual. He was mixed Greek and Danibeki ancestry, and a little older than me. He had pretty eyes with long lashes, like a girl.
“Tamar,” he said, and gave me a stiff nod.
Did I know him? Then I remembered: Alibek. The man who’d named Lauria a spy. I thought of him as her betrayer, although I had to admit I could understand why he’d done it. “Why are you coming?” I blurted.
“The eldress asked me. She seemed to think I’d have a better chance of passing myself off as a merchant than someone who was born Alashi.”
“So, why you? Why not Ruan?”
“She’s going to lead the sword sisterhood,” Janiya said.
“Oh, you’re joking. She’ll be terrible at it!”
Janiya shrugged. “It’s the eldress’s decision, not mine. And it was her decision to send Alibek.”
“The first thing we’re doing is going to Elpisia to find Lauria and help her free Thais,” I said. “Lauria may be coming with us.”
Alibek’s eyes narrowed, but he shrugged. “My lady Tamar,” he said, “if you say Lauria is trustworthy now, I will hold no grudge.”
“You will hold no grudge? You sought me out last night just to snub me when I was being Lauria!”
Janiya held up her hands, cutting us off. “Alibek, if Lauria joins us, will you treat her respectfully, as a sister?”
“Of course I will.” He was breathing a little bit hard.
“Tamar, will you treat Alibek respectfully, as a brother?”
“Yes,” I said, irritated that she’d even question that.
“Alibek, you have no feud with Tamar, do you?”
“No.” Though the set of his jaw said otherwise.
“And Tamar. You have no feud with Alibek—right?”
No feud with the person who had betrayed Lauria? I ground my teeth and said, “Right.”
“Then I think we can set out.” Janiya mounted her horse. “Come on.”
Alibek gave me another grim look and mounted his horse. I chewed on my lip as I settled onto mine. With Janiya, we turned south—toward Elpisia.
We approached Elpisia near twilight two days later. I had an idea of where Lauria might hide, so we picked our way along the dried-out riverbed, the horses following us. Alibek hummed a little tune to himself. It was a short tune, and he hummed it over and over. “Would you stop?” I muttered.
“Sorry,” he said, but he started up again a moment later.
Lauria was not there. Kesh snorted, though, and a few minutes later I heard the whinny of another horse. I pulled myself up to the top of the bank and saw Kara, her saddle off and her halter loose. She trotted straight over when she saw me, and snuffled my hair and hands.
Janiya pulled herself up next to me. “That’s an Alashi horse,” she said.
“It’s Kara,” I said, my throat tightening. “Lauria’s horse.”
Janiya slipped something out of her pocket and Kara lipped it up. She stroked Kara’s nose. “Nice to see you again,” she murmured. Then she looked at me. “She hasn’t been groomed in days.”
My heart sank.
“Let’s pull back from town for the night,” Alibek said.
“But…”
“There’s nothing we can do tonight,” Janiya said.
We ended up moving as far away from Elpisia as we could and making camp in the growing darkness. Kara stayed close to us.
“What was Lauria’s plan?” Janiya asked.
“We didn’t really have one. I told her to wait here for me. She was traveling with just Kara. She should only have gotten here a few days ago…”
“Do you think she waited? She might have been seen hiding and detained.”
“Honestly, I think she probably went into town after Thais.”
“Thais,” Alibek said. “She was one of the others that Lauria took back to slavery, wasn’t she?”
“Yes,” I said. “We were trying to free all of them. Nika and her daughter, Uljas and Burkut, Prax…”
“I see.” Alibek looked grim, but also faintly pleased. “I know Thais. Kyros sold me to her master, and that’s who I escaped from. She has no interest in freedom now. But she does hold a grudge.”
I suddenly noticed how chilly the night was. “You’re saying that if Lauria did try to free her, Thais would have turned Lauria in?”
Alibek thought this over. “Probably,” he said.
“I want to go into town and look for her.”
“Lauria, or Thais?”
“Both!” Even if Thais didn’t want to be free, she might know what had happened to Lauria.
Janiya caught my hand. “Don’t go into town tonight,” she said. “You’re a shaman—seek her out in your dreams. Ask her where she is, and what’s going on.”
I had to admit the sense in that, and after eating a quick meal, we went to sleep.
I found my way to the borderland quickly and looked for Lauria, but she was nowhere to be found. I hadn’t been able to find her since that night when she shouted, I love you. Would I know if she were dead? I wouldn’t be able to find her in the borderland if she were dead, but surely, I thought, I would know. She was my blood sister. I took a deep breath and tried again.
I didn’t find Lauria, but as I concentrated, my hands reaching out to grasp her, I saw something else: a web of red silk threads that led from my hands to…elsewhere. They were my blood ties, I realized—the ties that linked me to other people. These were all people I could bring into the borderland with me if I tried. Well, maybe. Some of the threads, as I touched them, gave me a sense of resistance, like a full bucket of water at the bottom of a well. If I pulled, I could bring them in. Others were slack like a fishing line in still water. I could pull on those all I liked, but nothing useful would come of it.
As I held the threads up, I saw Lauria’s. It glowed with a faint light but was slack. I saw no threads leading to anyone dead, so Lauria, surely, was just awake. I felt relief, then wondered what she was doing awake in the middle of the night. Were they waking her at night and letting her sleep in the day? Why?
Well, I might as well look for Zhanna. Did one of these threads lead to her?
The world turned to a blur around me, but when it settled, I was not in an Alashi tent, but in a Greek house. In front of me I saw a desk piled high with papers, a shuttered window, and a lamp. This was an officer’s study. Sophos had something similar. I felt a stab of panic, but Sophos was dead. I took a deep breath, reminding myself I was a shaman. This was my territory, no matter what it looked like. No one could hurt me here.
“Tamar,” a man’s voice said.
It was Kyros.
I was sold to Sophos when I was ten years old. I’d been owned by a friend of his, and one day when he was visiting he saw me fetching water for the kitchen. Before I knew what was happening, my mother was kissing me good-bye and telling me to stay out of trouble. She died six months later. I found out from the Fair One, the djinn that visited Jaran.
Sophos brought me home with him. He had me scrubbed clean, dressed in white linen, given a glass of drugged wine, and taken to a guest’s bedchamber. I wasn’t told what to expect—not by Sophos and not by Boradai, who took me to the room and left without a word. It was evening. There was a lamp on the table, and the room was small but very comfortable. The large bed took up most of the space, piled high with quilts and pillows. It was winter, and the room was kept warm by a fire. In my innocence, I thought perha
ps my job there was to keep the fire from going out, so I sat down on the rug by the hearth and tended it.
When the door opened, I had drifted off to sleep, and I snapped awake, afraid I’d be beaten for failing at my duty. The fire still glowed, to my relief, and the room was as warm as anyone could ask for. A man came in alone, wearing boots, and I kept my eyes on his boots as he sat down on the bed. He took them off and set them down on the floor, then chuckled—it was a kind-sounding laugh—and said, “What a pretty girl you are. You must have been very tired.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, keeping my eyes down.
“Come here,” he said, so I stood up. “Lie down on the bed.”
I lay down. I didn’t understand why, but ten years of slavery had taught me to obey without asking for explanations.
“Spread your legs apart,” he said. “That’s it, just like that. Now close your eyes.”
The sudden pain was like a knife. I think I may have screamed, What are you doing, before I started begging him to stop, promising I’d never do it again, whatever it was I had done to deserve this. I didn’t strike out at him, because to strike a Greek meant death. My hands knotted into fists, and I bit my knuckles until they bled.
When he was done with me, he called a servant to remove me from his bed. I had to be carried, as I was too hurt to walk. It was actually some months later that I learned the name of the friend that Sophos had “given” me to: Kyros.
Tamar,” he said again. He was seated behind his desk. “No, don’t be afraid of me.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” I said. “This is my territory, not yours.” And I wanted a tent. I pictured it, and the world tilted sharply. A moment later, we were sitting on cushions in an Alashi tent.
“Of course,” Kyros said, and gave me a polite nod.
“What do you want?”
“Just to talk.”
“Where is Lauria?”
“Ah, yes. That’s precisely what I wished to talk with you about.”
“Where is she?”
“Safe, for now.”
My stomach clenched. “Where?” I asked.
“Penelopeia,” Kyros said. “We’re the guests of the magia. Or at least, I’m her guest. It would probably be more accurate to describe Lauria as her prisoner.”
Penelopeia. Months of travel. Months. My mouth went dry. “Why are you telling me this?”
Kyros turned his palms up. “I need information. From someone. It can come from you, or from Lauria. Right now, Lauria isn’t talking. The magia is willing to be a little patient, for now. She knows that Lauria is my daughter, but she has her limits—and so do I.” He leaned forward. “Do I make myself clear?”
“You’re saying you’ll hurt Lauria.”
“Yes. And kill her when we’re done. Unless you give us the information we need. If you agree to help us against the Alashi, I’ll even set her free. You are trusted.”
“So is Lauria. Set her free now and she’ll be accepted back.”
“Really?” He raised an eyebrow. “Well, well, well. But no, I don’t think I’m going to do that just now. I know my daughter pretty well, and I knew when she betrayed me. She’s no longer of use to me as an ally among the Alashi. All that’s left is the information she can give me. I’ll give you a day or two to think it over, Tamar. I’m sure you can think of some scraps of information that might buy her some time.”
I wanted to call him filthy names, but when I opened my mouth again, I was alone in the tent. “Lauria,” I called. “Lauria!” Surely Kyros couldn’t keep her from me here…but there was no answer.
I brooded over breakfast, and while loading up the horses. “Do we need to go back to Elpisia?” Janiya asked me.
“Kyros has Lauria,” I said.
“Were you able to speak with her?”
“Briefly,” I lied. I didn’t want to tell anyone about my conversation with Kyros. “I think he took her to Penelopeia.” He could be lying about that—she could be in Elpisia right now—but Kyros wasn’t stupid. Lauria and I had broken slaves out from the heart of Helladia and organized a mine rebellion. If Lauria were in Elpisia, I might find a way to get her out, and Kyros knew it. No, he would have taken her somewhere far away. Penelopeia was the Imperial city, the seat of the Sisterhood of Weavers. I could believe that he would have taken her there.
Janiya furrowed her brow and nodded slowly. “Let’s head to the farm, then, to see if we can find Lycurgus and make contact with the Younger Sisters.” Her voice was firm, but I knew that she was giving me an opening to protest and insist we had to go to Penelopeia. But without a sorceress’s palanquin, it would take months just to get there. Besides, the farm was sort of on the way. Janiya still looked at me, waiting, so I nodded.
Alibek didn’t say much as we loaded the horses. I could hardly stand to look at him. It wasn’t fair to blame him, but I still thought it was his fault.
“There was a story I heard when I was a boy,” Alibek said. “About a man who sowed a field with blood and was surprised when an army grew there overnight, burned his house, and slew him.”
“Are you saying that Lauria deserves whatever happens to her?”
“I’m saying that she planted things that will bear fruit for years, even if she’s changed her ways. That’s just the way the world is.” Alibek undid the top of his shirt and slid it down slightly, exposing thick, ridged scars on his shoulders, and a shiny healed burn scar just below his throat. “There are reasons some of us hold grudges.”
Shaken, I turned my back on him and mounted Kesh. Lauria sowed a lot more than blood, I thought. I knew the story that Alibek was talking about, but…Lauria had changed. She was not the person he knew.
There were fields beyond the field of blood. Orchards and gardens waiting to bloom. She deserved to reap from those fields, as well.
CHAPTER FOUR
LAURIA
The guards dragged me down a long spiral stair. After one last anguished scream for Kyros, I closed my mouth hard, clenching my teeth. If I die, let me at least face it bravely. There’s no hope of escape. Tamar—I wish I could return to you, if only for an hour…
We were deep underground now. It was cool and lamps lit our way. A memory of the mine rose up unbidden and I tried to fight it back. When we reached the bottom of the stair, two of the guards opened a heavy trapdoor that was set like a lid into the floor. They loosed me, and when I didn’t immediately try to run or attack them, one of them sized me up. All the guards were women, or I would have feared rape. As it was, it still took all the self-control I had not to shrink away from her. She kicked something down into the hole in the floor—a ladder.
“Get in,” she said. When I hesitated, she said, “Climb down, or we’ll throw you down. Your choice.”
“I’ll climb down,” I said. My legs were shaking as I approached the ladder, and I crouched carefully beside it, fearing that I would fall if I weren’t careful and that they would push me if I weren’t fast enough. They waited until I had reached the bottom, then pulled up the ladder behind me. Then they heaved the trapdoor up and let it fall shut over me with a thud. I heard a latch fall into place, though how I would have opened the door from below with no ladder…
The darkness was absolute. I couldn’t even see my hand in front of my face. I felt my way around the edge of the room. It was small. I could lie down, but if I put my hands over my head and stretched, my feet pressed against the opposite wall. The room was round, and lined entirely with seamless rock. It was rough, not smooth, but I couldn’t feel the lines that would be present if it had been lined with brick. How would you make something like this? Djinni, I suppose.
I felt for handholds—was there any way to scramble up? No.
Even if I learned how to fly, it’s locked. There’s no way out.
There’s always a way out. There was a way out of the mine.
This place is darker than the mine.
I’d heard stories about prisoners being thrown down into pits and left to die o
f thirst or starvation. I spent a long time, that first day of darkness, wondering if they would let me die here. I remembered the thirst of my trip across the desert, with Tamar, when we journeyed to the Alashi. It would not be a pleasant death. At least it’s not hot here, but I don’t imagine that would make the thirst feel any more pleasant. I swallowed hard, my throat clenching just thinking about it.
Or perhaps I wouldn’t live long enough to die of thirst. Would the air go bad? The djinn at the bottom of the mine had been there to bring in fresh air; there was no djinn here. Perhaps my throat clenched because I was starting to suffocate…But when I sat still, I could feel a breeze waft across my knees, and when I felt through the dark I found some holes in the wall near the floor. I didn’t know where the air was coming from, but there did seem to be air coming in.
After a time—it was hard to know how long—I heard a rattle above, and the trapdoor opened, just a bit. A bucket came down on a rope. It held a piece of bread and a waterskin. The water had a strange taste, and I was still hungry even after I ate the bread, but at least it looked like they planned on feeding me. They lowered another bucket and someone shouted down for me to use it for my wastes. So I wouldn’t be left to lie in my filth, either.
I lay down a bit later on the stone floor. Tamar, I thought, but the blackness claimed me, and I dreamed of nothing. No borderland. No Tamar.
It was very difficult to guess how much time was passing. I thought they were feeding me twice a day, but some days I thought they fed me three times and other days only once. I tried counting times I slept, but I knew that sometimes I napped in the middle of the day, and in any case I had no way to mark a count. This bothered me, and I spent a long time on my hands and knees, searching for tiny pebbles that I could pile up to mark the days. I gathered a small heap, and since I’d slept five times by then, I put five beside the bucket I squatted over to relieve myself. I added pebbles for several days, then reached for the pile one morning and found it scattered and lost—I had kicked it while not paying attention, or maybe in my sleep. I let out a stream of foul words. Would the guards above hear me and wonder what I was so angry about? Were there any guards up there when they weren’t feeding me?
Freedom's Sisters Page 3
