He called you Cala . . .
A spiritual leader in white robes uncovers the body, preparing it for excarnation. She speaks in a language I do not recognize. Tinley warned me beforehand that they leave their deceased open to the elements to decompose and serve as carrion to scavenging animals, including wild mahati. The grisly process suits their belief that the falcons take hold of the soul during their feeding and carry the departed to the Beyond. The only part that is like ours in Tarachand is that their deceased also face upward toward the sky.
The leader stops singing and steps away from the altar. Anoush’s remains collect snowflakes. Tinley buries her face in her father’s cloak. He tries to embrace her, but she lets him go and speeds off downhill, her feet packing down snow.
Maida and Bedros leave next, then Sosi follows with her younger children. One after another, everyone else returns to the city until the chief and I are alone.
“My mother wanted our whole family there with her when she passed,” Naresh says. “It was her last wish. She held out until Tinley came home.”
Tinley must not have told her father about our conversation. “Did Anoush ever mention a godly medallion?”
“She may have. My mother’s head brimmed with stories. She could spin a tale unlike any other. Her words inspired people to strive for betterment.” He hunches his shoulders. “She will be missed.”
Naresh kneels in the powdery snow before the altar. I fist the medallion in my pocket. Anoush believed a god held her in this life though she was ready to pass on. Would a deity be so cruel? Or was that the final story she wished to tell?
A powerful gust blows me back a pace. In the distance, the Crystal Palace captures the sparse sunshine and glints in defiance of the moody clouds. I select the spires as my beacon and set out for Teigra.
I enter the aviary and slide the door shut. Steam from the hot springs melts the snow on my clothes as I start for the middle of the longhouse. A man’s voice halts me.
“Please don’t leave again. Your family needs you. I need you.”
“I cannot stay,” Tinley answers.
The mahati falcon bedded down nearest me pops open an eye. I peek around him. Tinley and Bedros stand close.
“Tinley, I love you.”
“You should not say that.” She wields no anger but an undercurrent of disgust. “We’re not children anymore. Your marriage to Maida is sanctified by the gods. As next chief, you must honor your vows.”
I lean forward and peer through the mist wafting off the hot springs. My movement draws the attention of the hatchling in her nest. She cranes her head but does not spot me.
“Why didn’t you come?” Bedros asks, his thumb brushing Tinley’s chin. “You could have contested my betrothal.”
“My sister loves you. I couldn’t do that to her.”
“Maida was never for me, just as my brother was never for you.”
Brother? Bedros’s brother was Tinley’s betrothed?
“We’ll go to Naresh,” Bedros insists.
“He cannot undo your vows.” Tinley stalks out of my line of sight.
“I waited for you,” Bedros counters, disappearing after her.
My eavesdropping has gone on long enough. I back up for the door. The hatchling sees me and squawks shrilly. I shush her, but she wails on and on. I hurry over and scoop her up. She stops screeching. Little imp.
“I waited for you on my wedding day,” Bedros rants at Tinley, both out of sight. I move backward with the falcon, and they enter my view again. “Even as I stood before your sister, I wished to Enlil you would come.”
“I couldn’t!” Tinley’s shout rouses the mahatis. They ruffle their feathers and turn their attention to the couple. “Our fates cannot be changed. The gods care nothing for our desires. Heart’s wishes are for fools.”
“Then I’m a fool.” He springs at Tinley to kiss her.
She pushes him off. “Leave before I tell my sister and father.”
Bedros’s whole body hardens. She balls her fists. He defies her for two breaths . . . then three. She persists, so he trudges off.
Tinley slumps over and kicks at a mound of moss. I cradle the hatchling and wait for an appropriate amount of time before I step out. Many moments pass. When I emerge, Tinley looks right at me.
“Bedros is a fool.” She stomps to a workbench. “He’s married to my sister.”
“If he weren’t, would you be together?”
“No.” Tinley shoves supplies into a leather satchel.
I close in on her, still carrying the hatchling. “How did your betrothed die?”
“His name was Haziq.” Tinley latches the bag and ties her crossbow to it. When she finishes, she has composed her frustration. “The wild falcons will arrive soon.”
I gesture at their docile counterparts. “Why not take one of these?”
“These belong to us. The free ones hail the gods.” She throws her bag over her shoulder. “We must go. Put the hatchling back.”
I set the baby bird in her nest and she squawks loudly. “I think she’s afraid. What do we do?”
“She’ll adjust to your being gone soon. Our falconers will raise her until she’s old enough to fly with you.”
“Fly with me where?”
“Wherever you like,” Tinley answers. “My grandmother wanted you to have her.”
“Have her?” I sound like a dolt, repeating her replies.
“Mahatis imprint on the first person who holds them. We only touch the male hatchlings after they learn to fly. She’s connected to you.”
I run my finger down the hatchling’s bony head. “She’s mine?”
“She’ll learn to fly in a few short weeks. In about a year, she’ll grow large enough to carry a rider. What will you name her?”
Nothing comes to thought. “Must I decide now?”
“It’s your bird.” Tinley starts for the door. “Come along. Ignore her weeping.”
The falcon is indeed shedding tears. Each one compounds my regret.
“I’ll return for you,” I say, though I have no idea what I will do with a full-grown mahati. “Behave for your caretakers and get along with the other falcons.”
Tinley’s eyebrows shoot up. “Impressive mothering.”
The falcon squawks forlornly. I nearly weaken, but Tinley grabs me and keeps me on course.
“They must learn who’s in charge,” she says. At the exit, her clutch lessens. “She’ll be well cared for, Kalinda.”
Under the thickening clouds, we enter a yak pen. A driver is harnessing a pair of yaks to a sleigh. Sosi waits by him, tugging on leather mittens.
Tinley pulls up short. “Mother, Kalinda and I are leaving.”
“I’m taking you to the burial site.” Sosi climbs into the sleigh and picks up the reins.
Tinley curses under her breath and gets on. I ride beside my friend. Sosi spreads a red wool blanket across our laps and leads the yak team past the Crystal Palace and out of Teigra. The sleigh glides over the snow and ice with minimal joggling.
“Your sister was hurt when you didn’t attend her wedding,” Sosi says to her daughter.
Tinley groans. “You made that more than clear, Mother.”
“Maida loves Bedros. He’s wrong to have eyes for you.”
“I’m sorry, I truly am, but I cannot change what happened. I can only stay away.”
Maida’s anger against Tinley takes a firmer shape in my mind. Paljorians are betrothed from infancy . . . which means Bedros was intended to wed Maida while he and Tinley were together.
Sosi’s eyes glow in the late-afternoon light. “You cannot run forever, Tinley. It’s unfair to your father and me and your sister. Maida wants you to help her lead.”
Tinley sniffs in derision. “She doesn’t need my help.”
“If you believe that, then you’ve been gone too long,” replies Sosi. “We all mourned Haziq. I know your heart was broken, but have you considered how the rest of us felt? We lost more than Haziq. We l
ost you.”
Tinley stares stonily at the wintry hills. Her manifested winds mount at our back to assist the craft up the snowy rise. The yaks pull the sleigh to a stop near the burial site. Birds of prey and arctic foxes scatter from the altar. I hop down, careful not to glance at Anoush’s remains.
“Thank you,” I say to the chieftess.
Sosi bows her head. “Let the sky lead you, the land ground you, the fire cleanse you, and the water feed you, Burner Rani.”
Tinley steps out after me. “Mother, will you look after Chare while I’m gone? She gets lonely when I’m away.”
“I will.” Sosi kisses her daughter’s forehead. “Come home soon.”
“Tell Father good-bye for me,” Tinley replies. We move from the path of the sleigh, and Sosi journeys back. Tinley treads to an outcropping and waves me over. We lie down on our bellies behind two rocks. Our white furs camouflage us from above, and we have a direct view of the altar.
Night unfolds across the horizon. The muffled splatter of snowflakes rests upon us, a quiet attack that slowly collects on our cloaks. Tinley leaves her crossbow strapped to her back and tilts an ear to the wind. I prop my elbows on the ground so I can see through the gap in the rocks and monitor the stone altar and surrounding hilltop.
“What now?” I ask.
Tinley answers, her resolve ringing through. “We wait.”
14
ASHWIN
The door squeaks open. I pay closer attention to my book, The Imperial Guard: A History of Tarachand’s Elite Forces, and ignore my intruder.
Footsteps approach. They pause.
“There you are.” Brac peers up at me seated atop the bookcase, his head cocked to the side. “Should you be up there? What if you fall?”
I slam the book shut. “Did you bring your report, Ambassador?”
“Come down and I’ll deliver it to you.”
Why must everyone have an ultimatum? I jump to the floor beside the discarded pile of my boots, tunic jacket, and belt. They came off the second I was alone in my library. “Tell me what you’ve learned about Lokesh.”
“Not much to tell.” Brac helps himself to an untouched decanter of apong. He bypasses the dusty cups and takes a swig from the bottle. After he swallows, he gives me an empty envelope addressed to Commander Lokesh. “I managed to lift this from his hut. He must be corresponding with his employer by dispatch to circumvent Pons tracking their movements.”
“We still know nothing,” I say, tossing the envelope aside.
Brac downs another pull from the bottle. “Captain Yatin secured the palace. After your impromptu exchange with Lokesh, the men were dissatisfied. They thought you should have spoken up on behalf of your loyalists. Yet another guard has turned in his khanda and left.”
“To serve the commander?”
“Does it matter?” Brac’s unruly coppery hair falls into his defiant gaze. “Yatin has our guards pulling double shifts. He thought for a time that he might have to employ the ranis to stand in. From here on out, don’t engage Lokesh. Let us manage him.”
I drop my book on a side table. “Any word from Kalinda?”
“None.” Brac puts down the apong bottle. He needs a shave, a trip to the bathhouse, and a clean change of clothes. “We must keep our focus. I suspect Lokesh is hiding something. Something he really doesn’t want us to find out. I’ll keep following him. Until the datu and navy arrive, you and every member of the imperial court must not leave the palace.”
My own city, my home, is unsafe for me. Lokesh’s lies have cultivated fast and farther than I anticipated. I press my fists into the table. “If you think so.”
“I do.” Brac squeezes my shoulder. “This is a temporary reprieve. Enjoy it.”
What is there to enjoy? I have the duties of rajah without the official title. This is not a reprieve from my responsibilities. This is detention for not silencing Lokesh when I had the opportunity. “Thank you for your report, Ambassador.”
Brac recognizes he has been discharged and bids me good night.
I drop into a lounge cushion and resume my study about the imperial guard. The words soon blur into a misshapen jumble on the page, and the quiet library closes in around me. I rub my sore eyes and look up from the text. Down the way, in the child-studies section, one of my shelves has been disturbed. From this angle, I see a line of dust where a book once was. I rise and inspect the gap in the bookcase.
Someone was in my library.
It is difficult to determine which text is missing. Based on the section it was taken from, a couple suspected intruders come to mind. One more than the others.
I clap my book shut and reshelf it on the way out.
By some mercy, I locate the nursery on my first try. The nursemaids have put the little ones to bed and turned the lamps down low. Nursemaid Sunsee travels between the rows of beds, tucking in the squirrelly children. She soon meets me near the play area.
“Your Majesty, Rehan is asleep.”
“I came to see you.”
“Oh?” she asks. “What may I do for you?”
“I’m missing a book from my library. Might you or one of the other nursemaids have borrowed it?”
“I’m certain we did not, Your Majesty. We know not to go into your library.” She brushes residual dust off my sleeve. “I’m glad it’s getting use. For all your mother’s love of stories, she wasn’t much of a reader.”
“You knew Lakia well.” After seeing my old room in the nursery, I have tried to remember Lakia as a loving young mother who read to me nightly, but I have too many contradicting recollections.
“I’ll tell you about her. Sit. Sit.” Sunsee points to the reading chair. “Your mother gained a reputation for her malice. When you were little, Kindred Lakia was quieter, less certain of herself. You remind me of her. Take that as no offense, Your Majesty. Lakia held herself to a lofty standard and was intolerant when she fell short. She was not rigid, per se, but had an idea of how things should be done.”
The nursemaid digs around in her pocket and pulls out sugared pieces of cinnamon. “These were her favorite.” She pops one in her mouth, giving me the other. I tuck the sweet against my cheek. They are the same ones found in dishes about the palace. “After you were sent away, Lakia was never the same.”
I cannot muster much sympathy. She was my mother. I was her child. “She never said good-bye. The day I left she wasn’t there.”
“She was devastated. She ordered us not to touch the nursery. The first year you were gone, she slept in your room more than her own bedchamber.” Sunsee grabs my chin and holds me in place. “Lakia had many flaws, but she loved you.”
Some part of me wants to believe this, yet I still cannot equate the rani I knew with a gentle woman who told stories and had a sweet tooth.
Sunsee gives me her last sugared treat. As she checks on the dozing children, I savor it, letting the gritty sugar dissolve to a bitter cinnamon center. Are people the same? Do we start off saccharine and eager to love, then, as life goes on, we dissolve away until all that remains is a bitter hardness?
I ruminate on this while I leave the nursery and go to the wives’ wing. Before I reach Kalinda’s door, an army of servants exit another room, lugging water buckets, and leave the door ajar. As I approach, I hear Gemi speaking within.
“Thank you, Natesa. The water helps me feel less homesick for the sea.”
“Would you like more bath oils?” Natesa asks.
“May I? My skin has been so dry.”
I peer through the crack in the doorway. Gemi bathes in a tub set in the middle of the chamber. Her body is concealed by the washbasin, only the back of her head visible. Her hair hangs outside the steaming bath, a rich curtain of brown.
My tongue goes papery. I am torn between getting closer to see her better and slinking away.
Natesa brings a pitcher to the side of the tub and begins to wet Gemi’s hair for washing. On the next pour, the flow exposes my viraji’s bare shoulder. Her skin
truly glows when damp, a radiance I would like to see more of.
Lords, I am a scamp.
I hurry on to Kalinda’s chamber. Asha, her servant and friend, left an oil lamp burning. She also set out a food tray and a full water pitcher. I sit on the bed and rub my eyes. An image of Gemi’s hair draping her glistening skin fills my mind. I should have presumed she was homesick. After I left the Brotherhood temple, I longed for the familiarity of those stone walls.
A memory of my mother starts to come, foggy pieces of a hurt so strong I shut it down before it drags me into the past.
Resting against stacks of pillows, I hold the childhood pains at bay. Deven needs me alert. I clear my thoughts, centering myself upon my priorities, and monitor the night for his arrival.
15
DEVEN
The moment nightfall hits I slide out of the thicket and set into a run. In minutes, the Road of Bone will be full of wanderers. I have to cross to the other end by the sky pathways before the inhabitants of the Void wake.
Kur’s tail no longer blocks the road outside his lair. As an officer, I would order my men to retreat and remain hidden, but I can almost smell Kali’s jasmine-scented hair and taste the food her servant has left out for me. On the other side of this pitlike doorway is nourishment. On the other side is my love.
I sprint across the entry, alert for a golden-eyed stare. Nothing stirs within the lair. Kur could be asleep or still nursing the injuries Kalinda gave him. I waste no more strength pondering his disinterest in me. Fortune has swung in my favor. I am overdue for a little luck.
My footfalls thunder down the Road of Bone. Unlike the hard skeletons beneath my feet, my bones feel brittle. No man this unfit could serve in the imperial army. I tire sooner than the day before and the day before that. The long stretches of fasting are emptying me. I hardly feel hunger or dehydration anymore.
At the end of the roadway, a haunting melody carries from the City of the Dead. I stumble along faster. I can see the pathways zigzagging the sky like crooked spiderwebs.
The Warrior Queen (The Hundredth Queen Book 4) Page 10
