He blinked away the memory of shadows moving in the boulders, that sinister, beckoning hand. If the vision had been real, the demon would have pursued him. He would not let fear keep him from this chance.
A difficult task, to walk the rock-strewn floor of the slot as noiselessly as Zadikah. Kiran set his feet with utmost care and kept to the shadows. The dim pulse of Zadikah’s ikilhia moved steadily onward.
The closer he got to the mouth of the slot, the harder Kiran’s heart pounded. When at last he slid around a final rib of rock and spotted the fanged garden of boulders blocking the course of the main canyon, his nerves were at a fever pitch.
But this time, the thin thread of magic twining through the earth felt perfectly natural. He felt no demon magic, heard no whispers, sensed nothing but the distant spark signifying Zadikah.
She was somewhere in the boulders. Her pace had slowed to a crawl; the rocks must be even more difficult to traverse than they looked. Kiran peered across the moonlit sand and saw no hint of movement. He edged away from the slot to reach the ledges leading to the upper gorge. He’d originally thought to wait longer to approach Zadikah, but perhaps this was good enough. His footprints in the sand would come from the upper gorge, not the slot.
And if he got her attention right away, he wouldn’t have to enter those disturbingly deep shadows among the rocks.
Kiran took a deep breath and ran for the boulders. “Help! Anyone who can hear me, if there’s anyone at all in this cursed desert—please!” After what he’d heard from Zadikah in the slot, he didn’t think she would simply ignore a cry for aid.
He’d nearly reached the first clump of rocks when something whizzed out of the dark to strike him hard in the chest. Straps whipped around his body, pinning his arms, even as he toppled backward. Unable to break his fall, Kiran landed hard enough to knock all the breath from his lungs.
Running footsteps, and Zadikah crouched over him. Her long knife pressed hard against his throat, and a second, smaller blade glinted in her free hand.
“Wait,” Kiran gasped. “I mean you no harm. I only seek help. My friend drank bad water, and now he’s dying—please, tell me you have healing charms—”
“You lie,” Zadikah said. “I saw tracks in the slot. They were yours, were they not? The Zhan-davi sent you to spy.”
Curse her, she must have the eyes of a banehawk. Kiran hadn’t spotted any signs of his earlier passage while he picked his way after Zadikah. He fought to show nothing but confusion. Only the knife blade touched him, not her hands. He couldn’t take her ikilhia without releasing his barriers. If she slashed his throat, she’d be the one to die, but Kiran’s fate would be sealed. He would do anything to prevent that, now he had hope again.
“I’m no spy! My friend and I are prospectors out of Ninavel—we traveled south from the Whitefires hoping to sell our gems in Prosul Akheba. I’ve never been to the city. I don’t even know who these Zhan-davi are.”
But Zadikah was leaning forward, peering at Kiran’s neck. With sudden, horrible certainty, he knew what she saw: the chain of his amulet. He opened his mouth, desperate to distract her, but her small blade flashed quick as an adder’s strike. Kiran’s shirt laces parted wide to reveal gem-studded silver.
Zadikah’s breath hissed out. “Only the Zhan-davi could afford so powerful a charm. Tell me how you knew where to seek us, little spy, and I’ll make your death quick. Otherwise…” The small knife trailed downward over Kiran’s chest and stomach to hover over his groin. “Your screams will echo long after the dawn.”
Chapter Five
(Kiran)
Kiran lay rigid under the knife at his throat, his eyes locked on the second blade so disturbingly close to his genitals. His unbalanced ikilhia flared in wild reaction to the threat. Cursing silently, he fought the power back down before it could breach his barriers.
If Dev were in Kiran’s place, he’d use words to stay Zadikah’s hand, not magic. Kiran cast about for a lie so brilliantly clever it would erase all suspicion.
Nothing brilliant emerged from the exhausted, panicked recesses of his brain. Zadikah made an impatient noise. The blade over Kiran’s groin twitched downward.
Kiran blurted, “All right, yes, I’m not a prospector! But I don’t serve anyone in Prosul Akheba. The amulet was given to me by a Ninavel mage. Word must have reached you here of the deaths and destruction in Ninavel earlier this season…” He hesitated, hoping for some acknowledgment from Zadikah, but her crouched form remained stonily silent.
The best lies are mostly truth, Dev had once said. Kiran plunged ahead.
“All of the trouble was one man’s doing. A man who wielded a strange power impossible for Lord Sechaveh’s mages to counter, who wanted to destroy every mage in the city and leave Ninavel waterless. He was killed before he could succeed, but before he died, a far more cunning and deadly enemy learned the secret of his magic.”
“What has this to do with you?” Zadikah demanded.
“I’m only a scholar—that’s why I was given the concealment charm, since I have no skill at fighting and no other means of protection—but my sick friend is a shadow man in Lord Sechaveh’s employ.” That wasn’t entirely a lie; Dev had at one point agreed to work for the ruler of Ninavel, and though Dev now considered that agreement void, Kiran suspected Sechaveh wouldn’t feel the same. “We’ve traveled south seeking knowledge that would let us stop a far worse disaster. But I spoke truth about my friend’s illness—he’s dying, and I must find help for him. Countless lives depend on our success—”
Sudden pain at his throat made Kiran gasp. The edge of Zadikah’s knife had parted his skin. Blood trickled hot down his neck.
“A pretty story, but your actions betray you. If you sought help, you wouldn’t have been sneaking in silence in the slot.”
The power seething within Kiran battered all the harder against his control. Let go, temptation whispered. Strike down this stubborn nathahlen. Tear the location of her lover from her mind and cast a binding that will force her and Teo to help Dev. Do it now, before either death or Ruslan takes you. Kiran sucked down a desperate breath and held his barriers firm.
“I was afraid! I told you my friend drank bad water. We traded with a clansman in good faith, but afterward his clan attacked us. We were lucky enough to escape, but then my friend fell ill, and we realized the water the clansman gave us was poisoned.”
A risk, to reveal that he and Dev were the objects of the black-daggers’ hunt. But even if Zadikah decided to trade him to the godspeaker, Kiran could still threaten the clanfolk into healing Dev. Anything, so long as Zadikah did not force his hand by using her blades!
Zadikah snorted. “You seem just fine. If Shaikar’s servants gave you poisoned water, how is it that you aren’t sick as well?”
Kiran couldn’t stop a bleak laugh. “I’m not fine. The charm I wear has protected me from the poison’s effects, but only for a time, and…there is a cost. My friend isn’t the only one in need of a healer.” That was the closest he dared come to explaining his true situation. He was lucky his torn shirt still covered Ruslan’s akhelsya sigil incised on his chest. Zadikah might not recognize the sigil for a blood mage’s mark the way a resident of Ninavel would, but he couldn’t afford to count on her ignorance.
“You say you traded in good faith. Yet the black-daggers wouldn’t poison your water and attack without cause.” Zadikah spoke with such certainty that Kiran wondered how close her ties of kinship with the black-daggers had been. If she’d once lived with the clan, did she know the remedy to their poison?
“I’ve no idea of their reasons.” Kiran willed her to hear the truth of his words. “Maybe our enemy contacted them and made them false promises. All I know is the black-daggers hunt us still. When I first heard you in the slot, I thought you might be one of them, until I heard your conversation. But then I was afraid to reveal myself, thinking you would assume me an enemy. I decided to follow you and try to gain your help more safely.”
“You admit you heard us.”
Kiran went cold clear through, realizing his mistake. Whatever Zadikah thought of his story, she had decided it would be safest to kill him. He could feel it in the increasing pressure on his throat.
“Don’t,” he begged her. “Please. You want to get into the Khalat. Before my friend entered Lord Sechaveh’s employ, he spent years working as an outrider in the Whitefires. He can scale any cliff, no matter how sheer. As a shadow man, he knows how to circumvent the strongest of wards and sneak into anywhere—save his life, and I promise you, he’ll get you into the Khalat without the need to involve your lover.”
Dev would be furious at him for offering this. Kiran didn’t care, not if it meant Dev’s survival.
“Easy to make miraculous promises, little spy. I’m not so foolish as to believe them.”
Yet she hadn’t cut his throat. “At least leave yourself the choice. Heal my friend, and he’ll prove his skill at climbing to you. If you want surety against betrayal, take our blood and key whatever charms with it you choose—” She knew his amulet was powerful, but she might not guess the full extent of its protection. “Help us and we’ll gladly help you. Otherwise, any victory you win in Prosul Akheba will be forever tainted for you by the anguish your lover will endure. If you care at all for this man, don’t shatter his trust and leave him mired in bitterness, wondering if your love was always a lie. You don’t know the pain of it!”
Kiran stopped, abruptly aware he was shouting, his muscles bunched against the straps binding his arms. Zadikah’s head cocked. Her knife dug deeper into Kiran’s bloodied skin. He braced for the shock of the blade severing his jugular, for all his choices to vanish in the conflagration of power that would follow.
Zadikah spat a curse. “The gods know I may be a fool to listen to you, but for Teo’s sake, I’ll give you the chance to prove you speak truth.”
The knife left Kiran’s throat. He slumped in his bonds, his relief so great he could barely summon speech. “Thank you.”
Zadikah muttered something skeptical in Varkevian and sheathed her small blade, though her long blade remained poised a hands-breadth from Kiran’s chest. She ran her free hand over Kiran in a rough search. She removed his belt knife, but when her questing fingers grazed his amulet, the metal sparked in warning. Zadikah yanked her hand back, hissing.
“Yes, it’s warded,” Kiran said. “It’s bound to me. Only a mage can remove it.” That was perfectly true. Unless Kiran released the charm’s outer warding, no mere nathahlen could take it from him.
Zadikah’s teeth showed white in a grimace, and Kiran tensed. Would she reconsider sparing him?
But she only flicked a finger against his bloody throat and said, “Whatever magic that charm holds, I see it doesn’t stop a blade. Get on your knees.”
Kiran rolled awkwardly and got his knees under him. He craned his head over his shoulder, seeking the glint of Zadikah’s knife in the moonlight. What did she intend? To his renewed relief, Zadikah only untangled the straps from his chest and arms and cinched a remaining strap tight over his wrists, binding them behind his back. Further rough jostling suggested she was searching the pack he still wore. Kiran wanted to beg her to hurry. He might have escaped immediate disaster, but he was terrified he would return to the rockfall to find Dev vanished, taken by clanfolk—or dead, a flame-eyed demon crouched over his mutilated body, laughing. Kiran shuddered but held his tongue, fearing to anger Zadikah.
Zadikah circled to stand before him. Her long knife was still gripped in one hand.
“Lead me to this sick friend of yours, and I’ll judge the truth of your claims. But if you lead me into ambush, or I find you’ve lied to me in any way…” Her blade flashed up to slice a swatch of his bloodsoaked collar free. Zadikah crumpled the blood sample in a fist.
“That amulet you wear will not protect you. I’ll hamstring you, geld you, and throw you to the black-daggers. They aren’t so kind as I am. You’ll wish I’d killed you here.”
A threat Kiran took quite seriously, even if not for the reasons she might think. “You’ll have no reason to harm me. I’ve told you nothing but truth.”
The lies lay in all he’d left out. Kiran hurried toward the gorge as quickly as he could manage with his balance impaired by his bound hands. His haste wasn’t only for Dev’s sake. The increasingly erratic pulse of his ikilhia was a silent warning that his own time was fast running out.
* * *
“How much…farther until…Teo?” Kiran gasped to Zadikah. Dev was a crushingly heavy weight lashed to Kiran’s back, his head lolling against Kiran’s.
Zadikah ignored the question. She dodged a clump of poisonweed and strode up a steep swell of sandstone. Her figure was a crisp black outline against a sky rosy with approaching dawn.
Kiran groaned and struggled after her with his back bent nearly double. At least his hands were no longer bound, much good that it did him. When he’d led Zadikah to the rockfall, his relief at finding Dev lying alive and unharmed in the hollow hadn’t lasted long. Though Kiran removed the sleepfast charm, he couldn’t rouse Dev back to consciousness. Zadikah had stared at Dev’s limp body, fingering one of the carcabon stones she’d taken in her search of Dev’s pack. At last she’d said, I know the seep where the black-daggers got that water. If your friend’s to live, he needs to get straight to Teo. You care so much for him, then you carry him.
Kiran had assumed Zadikah was still wary of attack and wanted to ensure Kiran couldn’t easily turn on her, hampered by Dev’s weight. But as he toiled over stone and sand under a sky thick with stars, he realized she had a deeper purpose. Stalking at his side, Zadikah peppered him with question after question. She wanted to know his and Dev’s reasons for coming south, their intent in Prosul Akheba, their history in Ninavel.
His legs cramping under a burden that seemed to grow heavier with every step, his exhaustion growing until he could barely keep his eyes open, Kiran found it progressively harder to keep his patchwork of half-truths and lies straight. He could only hope he’d avoided any dangerous slips of the tongue. Already he had a sinking suspicion he’d revealed far too much.
Aside from aiding her interrogation, Zadikah must also want him near dead with exhaustion so he’d be no threat to her precious Teo. A plan that would work handily. Much more of this and Kiran wouldn’t even be able to speak, let alone lift a finger against the man.
Zadikah had said they’d only have a few miles to travel. They had to have covered most of that distance already. Kiran took one lurching step after another up the steep slope, horribly aware of the ebbing spark of Dev’s ikilhia pressed against his back.
Zadikah halted at the rounded crest of the ridge. Domes of sandstone bulged skyward all around, their flame-red rock muted by the predawn light into softer shades of pink and orange. A smoothly eroded series of ledges plunged into a sandy basin backed by ochre-streaked cliffs. Two goats wandered amid a scattering of spinebrush, and tucked under a jutting ledge on the basin’s far side was a long, low house made of stacked and mortared shards of stone. Door and windows were dark, arched holes without any shutters or wards.
“Is Teo in that house?” Oh, how Kiran hoped that was true.
Zadikah fixed him with a cold stare. The sun creeping over the eastern horizon sparked fire from amber beads bound in her knots of hair, and revealed she was younger than Kiran had first assumed. Her dark skin was smooth and unscarred, her strong-featured face that of a woman not yet out of her twenties. Yet everything he’d seen of her warned that like Dev, she was far more cunning and experienced than her age might imply.
Zadikah said, “I’ll tell Teo you are prospectors from Ninavel who suffered a misunderstanding with the black-daggers. I stumbled across you on my way home from visiting friends in Prosul Akheba. You will say nothing—nothing, you understand?—of what you heard tonight in the slot, or our bargain.”
Kiran nodded wearily. “I will keep your secrets.” Although he certainly didn’t trust her
to keep what she knew of his. His mind felt like sludge; he could only hope Dev would know some clever way to handle the problem.
If Dev lived. Kiran tottered down sloping ledges after Zadikah, willing that pinprick of life against his back not to flicker into nothingness.
Once amid the spinebrush, Zadikah’s pace increased to a jog. “Teo!” she yelled. “Wake up! I’ve a man here who—” She stopped dead as a decidedly pregnant woman appeared in the dark arch of the house’s doorway. The newcomer had the corded, wiry look of a clanswoman. Her coppery limbs and face were lean despite the belly straining against her patched tunic, and her hair was a cropped mass of black curls. A knife was strapped to one forearm, and an elaborately inked tattoo circled her other wrist.
“Raishal?” Zadikah’s surprise shifted into frank dismay. “What are you doing here?”
Kiran backed a nervous step, gripping Dev’s dangling arms. Was Raishal from the godspeaker’s clan? But she wasn’t reaching for her knife or even showing tension to match Zadikah’s. She put her hands on her hips, her black brows arched in quizzical surprise.
“I do live here,” she said to Zadikah. “Did you hit your head and forget? Or is this some strange new city custom, to show the friends of your heart how deeply you missed them by the rudeness of your greeting?”
Zadikah looked abashed. “Sorry, Rai. I thought you and Veddis had gone to birth the baby with his clan.”
Now Kiran understood her dismay. Zadikah hadn’t known when she accepted his bargain that she’d be risking Raishal and her unborn child along with Teo. Her concern for her friend made Kiran like her better, even knowing it made her more of a threat.
Zadikah took a step toward Raishal, her brow creasing in worry. “Are you all right? The baby’s not—”
“The baby’s fine.” Raishal cradled her stomach. “Two days after Veddis and I left, I started bleeding. So we turned back; if anyone can keep this child in my belly until the proper time, it’s Teo. But never mind me…”
The Labyrinth of Flame (The Shattered Sigil Book 3) Page 8
