Empire of Shadows

by Miriam Forster

  “Thank you,” he said, and his voice was as warm as his eyes. “That was very brave of you. I’m Emil Arvi, and this reckless one here is my brother, Stefan.”

  Mara swallowed. “I’m Mara,” she said. “I’m pleased I was able to assist.” She turned to Esmer, unable to resist the urge to speak mind-to-mind, just one more time. Just this once.

  Well met, cousin, she sent, reaching out tentatively to brush against the girl’s mind.

  Oh. The girl’s eyes widened in a visible expression of surprise, and Mara could almost see her ears go back. You’re Sune.

  Please don’t tell the humans, Mara hastened to send. I’m just traveling through, and I don’t want trouble.

  I see. Esmer’s mind-voice was as sharp and bright as a polished sword. Well, with a rogue tiger in the area, I can see why not. You are tiger-Sune, aren’t you? She paused. I mean, I haven’t met many, and you smell more human than anything, but you sound like a tiger.

  I was, Mara sent. She kept her thoughts bland and harmless, not showing how Esmer’s question had surprised her. Sune mind-voices could carry impressions as easily as they carried words, and if you were listening, you could usually tell what kind of Sune you were dealing with. It was a necessary skill, especially for smaller Sune like Esmer. But Mara hadn’t realized hers was still so distinctive.

  I’ve given up my tiger form, she sent at last. And as I said, I’m only passing through.

  Before the other girl could reach further, Mara broke the connection, pulling back into the cold, solitary reaches of her own mind. The loss of contact felt like being gutted, and Mara wondered if it was possible to suffocate from loneliness.

  That was when Emil reached out and touched her good hand. “Mara? Are you all right?”

  The feel of his skin on hers sent a jolt through Mara. It had been so long since she’d touched anyone outside her fellow novices. And even in the Order, it had been only a hand on her head, a pat on her shoulder. Small gestures, comforting but mostly fleeting. Not like this. Emil’s hand was almost curled around hers, his light touch holding her in place.

  Mara was suddenly conscious of her dirty tunic and dirt-streaked skin. But Emil didn’t seem to notice or care.

  “Do you need help?” he asked. “You’re holding your shoulder as if you’re hurt.”

  The brush of his fingers against her skin was suddenly more intimate than Mara could bear. She pulled away.

  “I can’t—I’m not—”

  Desperate, her mind reached out for Esmer’s. Please, she thought. I can’t be around them. Not while I’m injured.

  Esmer narrowed her eyes, then nodded. Go, the cat girl sent back. I’ll keep them here.

  Mara backed up and started to babble. “I have to go,” she said. “I’m glad your brother is safe.”

  Emil moved as if to follow her, but Esmer put a hand on his arm. Her voice slipped into Mara’s mind again.

  I forgot to give you my name. It’s Esmer, of the Marjara-Sune.

  Thank you, Mara sent back. I . . . thank you.

  And she turned and ran into the woods.

  “I DON’T UNDERSTAND,” Emil said, staring after the girl who had saved Stefan’s life. Despite her obviously injured shoulder, the girl moved with grace, slipping deeper into the trees until she was gone entirely.

  “That girl is hurt, Esmer, and that tiger’s still out there. She shouldn’t be alone.”

  Esmer’s hand was firm on his sleeve. “Trust me, Emil. She doesn’t want or need our help. And we have your brother to worry about.”

  Emil dug his feet in. “Esmer, we can’t just let her go. Even if the tiger is gone, there are the mercenaries. And my father is gathering hunting parties for the tiger. She could get hurt by accident.”

  The cat girl paused, her forehead creasing with thought. “I hadn’t thought about hunting parties.” Her fingers drummed on Emil’s arm.

  “How about this?” she said finally. “I’ll help you get Stefan to his feet, and then you take him back to the camp while I go make sure Mara is safe. Will that satisfy you?”

  “It satisfies me,” Stefan said. His face was sallow, and sweat dampened his hairline. “That tiger might come back, and I don’t want to be here when it does.”

  Guilt curled in Emil’s chest. Of course his brother had to be his first priority. He moved to one side of Stefan, Esmer going to the other, and they lifted him to his feet.

  “Can you walk?” Emil asked.

  “I broke my wrist, not my ankle,” Stefan snapped. “Of course I can walk.”

  Esmer and Emil exchanged a glance. Stefan was touchy at the best of times, but when he was hurt he was like a wounded bear, all growls and swipes.

  “I’m going to check on your rescuer,” Esmer said. She patted Stefan’s shoulder. “Try to get home in one piece, all right?”

  “I’ll do my best,” Stefan said gruffly. “And thanks, Esmer.”

  “Anytime,” the girl said.

  “Be careful, Esmer,” Emil cautioned. “There’s still a rogue tiger out there.”

  “No tiger is going to catch me,” Esmer said. “I’d like to see them try.” She flicked into cat form, then leaped gracefully to Emil’s shoulder. Emil staggered with the sudden weight.

  “All right, all right,” he said. “I know. You’re quicker and sneakier than I will ever be, and you can take care of yourself.” Claws dug into his shoulder, and he winced. “Now could you get off? You’re heavy.”

  Esmer purred, and her black-tipped tail curled across the back of Emil’s neck. Her claws gripped him as she jumped. In midair, she blinked back to human form and landed like a tumbler, rolling and coming up on her feet.

  Emil rolled his eyes. “Show-off,” he teased.

  Esmer brushed the leaves off her tunic and grinned.

  “I’ll make sure she’s all right before I come back,” she said. Then she ran into the trees and disappeared.

  Emil turned back to his brother. His twin was still cradling his broken wrist, but at least Stefan was standing and his eyes were clear. Relief made Emil almost giddy. He wanted to say something like I’m glad you’re safe or You frightened me. But habit took over and what came out wasn’t like that at all.

  “Father is going to kill you.”

  “I know,” Stefan said. His laugh was bitter. “And he’ll probably throw you some sort of party for finding me.”

  “Stefan . . .”

  “Don’t,” Stefan said, cutting him off. “Just . . . don’t, all right? I got myself into this, I’ll take the consequences. Let’s just go home.”

  Emil rubbed his forehead. Once again he’d failed to reach across the ever-widening gap that separated him and his twin. He gazed around the clearing, trying to think of what to say next. Something near the base of the tree caught his eye.

  “What’s this?”

  This turned out to be a small leather pouch with something hard and round inside. Emil reached in and pulled out an earring, a squat bronze hoop with an odd dagger symbol pressed into the metal.

  Stefan leaned forward. “That’s strange,” he said. “I’ve never seen an earring like that. It’s still shiny, so it hasn’t been here long. You think it belongs to the girl who saved me?”

  Emil examined it. “Maybe.” He’d been too concerned about his brother to really study the girl before, but now he closed his eyes and cast his mind back.

  She’d been short, he remembered. About Esmer’s height. But where Esmer was quick and slim, this girl moved with muscled power. It was her face that stuck in his memory: wide, high cheekbones, full lips, and eyes the color of darkest honey. Her hair was a little longer than a bond servant’s, and there had been a leather decoration hiding one of her earlobes.

  Emil opened his eyes. “She’s from the Order of Khatar. She was wearing the ear cuff they always have. But I don’t think her other ear was pierced.”

  “Then maybe it’s not hers.” Stefan winced. “Can we go home now?”

  Emil sighed and slip
ped the earring back into the pouch. “You’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry. Let’s get you home.”

  MARA MOVED THROUGH the trees as quickly as her injured shoulder would allow. When she was sure she was out of range of the humans, she stopped, sagging against a tree. Already she could feel her instincts rising, pleading with her to change. Her shoulder hurt more with every step she took. Magic coiled in her belly, waiting to be used. It felt sour and angry and made her stomach hurt.

  A place to sleep, Mara thought. I need a safe place to sleep first. I’ll be too tired afterward to find one. And then I can put my shoulder in and ride out the pain.

  But first she had to get herself under control. She focused on the meditation techniques that her teachers at the Order had taught her, breathing and clearing her mind. Gradually the pain in her shoulder dimmed to a sharp ache, and the urge to change receded.

  A cautious voice brushed against her mind. Mara? It’s Esmer. Are you all right?

  You shouldn’t be here, Mara sent. She straightened up and scanned the trees. The humans aren’t with you, are they?

  The boys went back to their camp. Esmer’s mind-voice was soothing. But you need to know that this forest is about to be full of hunters. The Kildi clans are gathered for the Clothing Fair tomorrow, and the boys’ father is putting together hunting parties to search for the tiger.

  Hunters. The word sent a twist of panic through Mara’s chest. Hunters with blades and spears, looking at her with flat, empty eyes, as if she were an animal ready for the slaughter. . . .

  Mara! Esmer’s voice cut sharply though the flashes of memory. And Mara realized she was gasping, fast shallow breaths. Her whole body was thrumming with magic and power and fear.

  Hunters were coming.

  Mara, breathe, Esmer commanded. You’re in no danger right now. I promise. It’s just you and me here.

  Mara forced one ragged deep breath, then another. She clenched and unclenched her fists, feeling the bones and muscles move, feeling the press of her feet into the earth, forcing the overwhelming terror away.

  It ebbed slowly, leaving her trembling. Mara’s shoulder ached, and she felt an unaccountable urge to sit down and cry.

  I’m so tired, she thought, not caring if Esmer heard her.

  There’s a large banyan tree a little to the south, Esmer sent back. I know a human can squeeze between the roots, and it’s covered in leafy vines in the summer. No one would find you there. Her mind-voice was deep with sympathy. Mara knew she didn’t deserve the kindness, but she was grateful all the same.

  Thank you. You didn’t have to come back.

  Emil was worried about you, Esmer sent. She sounded amused. He wouldn’t leave until I promised to make sure you were safe.

  A flash of warmth ran through Mara, and despite her exhaustion, she smiled. I’ll be all right. I just need to put my shoulder back in and get some sleep.

  You haven’t changed in a long time, Esmer sent.

  No. Mara tensed, waiting for the questions.

  There was a moment of quiet, then Esmer spoke. I think you must be very strong. Good fortune go with you, Mara, whatever path you choose.

  Mara’s eyes stung. And to you, she replied. Tell Emil I said thank you.

  He’s going to be at the Clothing Fair tomorrow, if you want to tell him yourself, Esmer sent back. It’ll be on the main road to Kamal. You won’t be able to miss it.

  Then she was gone.

  Mara pushed herself up and staggered in the direction Esmer had indicated. It wasn’t until she reached the banyan, with its tangled roots and branches, that she thought to check her weapons belt.

  Her dagger was there, but earring pouch was missing. One of the ties was broken, the other cut, as if something sharp had caught it. It must have happened when Mara was falling out of the tree.

  Mara’s fingers clenched. Without the earring, she could not pledge. She had to go back, she had to find it—

  But she couldn’t. Not now. If she went back now, wounded and weak as she was, and ran into hunters . . . well, no telling what would happen. It wasn’t worth the risk.

  Mara reached out her good hand to steady herself on the rough bark of the banyan tree. She would go back tomorrow, she promised herself. And the earring would be there.

  It had to be.

  EMIL SAT IN the grass outside his father’s wagon, his fingers tapping on the yellow-painted wood of the wagon wheel. There was a healer from one of the other Kildi camps in there, setting Stefan’s broken wrist. Emil couldn’t help but feel sorry for the woman. His brother was yelling so loudly that he could hear every word.

  “I was trying to protect the camp!”

  A rumble of anger, his father’s voice.

  “Well maybe if you gave me any responsibility, I’d actually do that!” Stefan shouted. “Just because I’m not Emil . . .”

  Emil winced. He hated when Stefan and Father dragged him into their fights. And they both did it, his father holding Emil up as a standard that Stefan could never, would never meet. And Stefan resenting, pushing back.

  Of course, no one had ever asked Emil if he wanted to be the standard. Or the next in line to lead the camp.

  No one really asked him anything.

  Emil shifted at the thought, feeling the Wind caste scars on his shoulder pull. The truth was, Emil didn’t want to be a leader. He liked trading, liked reading faces and body language, guessing what would make a customer buy. He liked chatting with people and matching wits, the subtle contest of offer and counteroffer. He wanted to be Master of Trade someday, like his uncle Pali, traveling with the camp, going outside it to small villages to sell goods. He wanted to be responsible for wool and paper and numbers and profits. Not people.

  Around him, the camp was returning to normal. The weavers had gone back to their looms, and the children were playing in small groups, each under the watchful eye of an older child. Most of the goats were sleeping off the afternoon heat between the caravans, curled up like the rolls of wool they produced. From where he was sitting, Emil could smell the three male goats, their distinctive scent mixing with the smells of curry and other spices from a nearby cooking pot. It was a combination as familiar to him as the feel of his own skin. Home wasn’t a place for the Arvi. It was people. These people.

  Then why don’t I want to stay here?

  Sometimes Emil wondered if his caution and care—the traits his father praised so much—were simply cowardice. Emil felt like he was afraid all the time. Stefan didn’t seem to know what fear was.

  Father has it wrong, Emil thought, not for the first time. I’m not the strong one.

  The door to the caravan slammed open. Emil scrambled to his feet as Stefan stormed down the steps. His brother’s wrist was splinted with bamboo and wrapped with thick linen, and his face was pale with pain and fury.

  The Kys emerged, followed by the healer, a young woman a little older than Emil. She was wearing an undyed cotton tunic and skirt and had a green scarf tied around her waist.

  “It wasn’t a serious break,” she said to Emil. “I gave him some herbs for the pain; if he doesn’t overstrain the wrist, it should heal just fine.”

  “Thank you,” Emil said. He elbowed Stefan, who was scowling at the ground.

  “Thank you,” his twin muttered.

  The woman bowed to Emil’s father and left. Emil thought she looked relieved.

  “Thank you for bringing your brother back, Emil,” the Kys said. “It was very brave of you.”

  Emil stifled a groan. Their father didn’t have to make it sound like he was such a hero. Stefan had been just as brave, if more foolish. And, there was the girl who’d stood between Stefan and the tiger. Emil opened his mouth to say as much, but his father wasn’t finished.

  “Stefan,” he said, and his voice was heavy with disappointment. “You are too old to punish like a child. But you put yourself and your brother in danger, and I cannot have that. Therefore, none of the Arvi will speak to you until Darkfall tomorrow.”<
br />
  Stefan sucked in a breath. Emil flinched.

  Silent treatments were rare. A Kildi’s entire life revolved around his clan. To be deliberately excluded, even for a day or two, was like cutting a branch from a tree.

  Stefan’s face hardened. “Fine,” he said, biting off the word. “It’s not like anyone ever listens to what I say anyway.” Then he stomped off.

  The Kys put his hand to his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Emil, will you find Pali and tell him that you’re going to be working at our booth in the Clothing Fair tomorrow instead of Stefan?”

  Emil hesitated, the words sitting like broken glass in his mouth. Father, I’d really like to start doing more trading. Maybe train under Uncle Pali to be the next Master of Trade.

  I don’t want to be leader.

  “Father . . . ,” he started.

  “We’ll talk later,” his father said, waving his hand in dismissal.

  Emil pressed his lips together. To hide his disappointment, he glanced up at the Barrier, the blank gray sky that had separated the Bhinian Empire from the rest of the world for five hundred years. It grew darker and lighter according to the time of day, but it never changed, not really. Nothing changed in the Empire. Not the caste system, not the Kildi traditions. And not his father’s mind.

  “Yes, Father,” Emil said. “Of course. Esmer can help too.”

  His father frowned. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with that Sune girl. Is there something going on that I should know about?”

  The unexpectedness of the question jerked Emil around. “With Esmer?” he said. “No. We’re friends, that’s all.”

  His father raised his eyebrows. “You spend more time with her than with practically anyone else in camp, even your own brother.”

  Because Stefan resents me, Emil thought, swallowing the words. “Esmer and I have been friends since we were small,” he said. “And there aren’t that many people in camp my age to talk to.”