by Davis Ashura
Choke couldn’t find fault with her reasoning. It was essentially true. But perhaps with Chak-Soon’s survival thanks to the work of a distrusting Human, the Baels could more easily teach the meaning of fraternity to others of the Fan Lor Kum.
“Wolves nearby,” Jessira said, breaking Li-Choke out of his thoughts. “Right now, they’re just prowling.”
Rukh glanced back. “Is the Tigon showing any signs of waking up?”
Li-Choke shook his head. “He’s still asleep as far as I can tell.”
“Healing must take a lot out of his kind,” Rukh noted.
Li-Choke grunted agreement. “We’re nearly there,” he said. “Only a few more blocks. Then the packhorse can take a rest from Chak-Soon’s weight.”
Soon enough, the City Library of Hammer came into view. Li-Choke had never seen the building before, but he’d heard it described and even read about it often enough to recognize it on first sight. The library soared four stories into the air with needle-thin towers rising even higher. History spoke of how the main vessel of the library had been designed to mimic the appearance of a boat. The entrance, which they faced, was said to be the wide, flat stern, while the opposite side of the building was a narrow prow, aimed like an arrow and meant to cleave the waters of the nearby River Mastery. Twin arcades lined the length of the main edifice, huddling beneath flying buttresses, which swept out like oars down to the transept. The cruciform shape had also been intentional, with the four arms of the building each projecting in a different cardinal direction. Clad outside by heavy gray granite, the inside of the library would have been as lifeless and grim as an underground cavern if not for the tall lancet windows of the clerestory.
As with the rest of Hammer, time and nature had robbed the building of much of its historical elegance and grandeur. Gaping holes punctured the line of the steeply pitched slate roof, and many windows peered out with an empty gaze, only shards remaining where lovely stained glass had once brought in colored light. There were also the vines, thick and root-like. They had clawed out footholds along the walls, swathing many parts of the building in green. Despite the decay, enough of the structure remained to imagine its glory before Mother and the Fan Lor Kum had destroyed Hammer.
Rukh entered first.
The packhorse balked at going inside, so Choke hauled Chak-Soon off the animal. He lumbered the Tigon onto his shoulder, carrying the ordinate like a bale of hay. Jessira had remained outside with them, likely not willing to give her back to him. After Choke had Soon settled on his shoulder, he ascended the front stairs with Jessira a few paces behind.
The main entrance consisted of ironwood doors, intricately carved with symbols, leaves, and figures from Hammer’s past. They had once stood over twelve feet in height, each broad enough for a Balant to pass through without difficulty. Now, they barely hung on their hinges, cracked and rotted. Inside, it wasn’t much better. Trees and large weeds split the stone flooring, while the vines from outside had managed to breach the walls, spreading throughout the interior. From the visible scat and smell, it was clear animals had made the building their home. Stealthy sounds—rustling, clicking noises—heralded their arrival within.
Choke glanced around, studying the famed building he’d read so much about. He never thought he’d actually enter this place. A large gallery ran the length of the library with an oculus—empty now—bringing in light from the domed ceiling above. Given the massive size of the space, it had the look and feel of a cloister—or what Li-Choke imagined how a cloister might look and feel. He’d never actually seen one. And upon each floor, running about the entire perimeter of the central vault, were open-sided arcades leading further into the library. Large chandeliers, once filled with hundreds of firefly lamps would have lit the place to noontime brightness, but all of them were gone now, burned out and leaving the library in solitude and darkness.
“There.” Li-Choke pointed to a tall, thick plinth, centered in the gallery. It was about man-height and had once been white as ivory, but time and decay had dulled it to the same drab gray as the library’s exterior. It would take a Bael’s strength to move it. Or a Kumma’s. “We buried the Master there,” he said, easing Chak-Soon off his shoulder and laying the Tigon next to the plinth.
“Help me move the stone,” Rukh said, setting aside his bow and shucking off his quiver of arrows.
Jessira stood nearby, peering into the darkness, alert and ready while they worked. With the two of them, it didn’t take long to rock the plinth out of place, exposing a shallow, square hole underneath. Within it was a simple urn made of priceless copper and a blue leather bound book. There was nothing else.
“The Master’s ashes,” Li-Choke said in a reverent tone.
“The Book of First Movement,” Rukh added, sounding just as reverential. The Human had already reached inside and withdrawn The Book, thumbing through to the first page. “The first line is right here,” he said excitedly. “I can read it. It’s right there. Jessira, look.”
“I’ll look when we’re outside,” she replied. “There’s animals in here moving around, and they sound….” She glanced back at them, an expression of worry on her face. “Let’s get going.”
Just then, Chak-Soon sat up with a groan. He levered himself to his feet and blinked owlishly. “What happen?” he asked, his gaze focused on Li-Choke. However, upon seeing Rukh and Jessira, he tried to surge to his feet, growling in fury.
Li-Choke was by his side in an instant, holding him down. “This one—” he gestured to Rukh, “—was protecting himself. He stabbed you through the chest. You were dying. This one—” he pointed to Jessira, “—Healed you and saved your life. Do you remember?”
Chak-Soon’s bared fangs receded and his face held a look of bewilderment. “They Sil Lor Kum?”
Choke shook his head. “No.”
“Then why Heal me?”
“Because I asked,” Choke replied. “Life is not as you have been taught. You must trust me on this.” He gestured to the plinth. “We’ll talk more after I put this back in place.” Choke sighed with relief when the Master’s urn was sheltered once again. He hadn’t liked the idea of disturbing Hume’s place of rest, but the Humans had been insistent upon recovering The Book of First Movement.
“We have to go,” Rukh said. He motioned to the darkness. “Jessira’s right. Something’s going on out there.”
Chak-Soon growled.
Rukh turned his gaze to the young Tigon. “You wouldn’t last a second against me. You know it’s true, but I’ve let you live. We even Healed you. And Li-Choke is correct: I am not Sil Lor Kum. Consider what this might mean—brother.”
Choke couldn’t have been more surprised if Rukh had sprouted wings and flown away. Brother?
“Rats,” Jessira said.
“What’s wrong now?” Rukh asked.
“No. Rats. Lots of them. Coming this way.” She pointed.
Choke looked in the direction she indicated. From the darkness, chittering noises broke the quiet as hundreds of beady red eyes moved as one, surging toward them.
“Suwraith’s spit. Pick him up.” Rukh gestured to the still weak-appearing Tigon. “Move.”
Now, it was Jessira who took point, sprinting for the front entrance. For now, it was free of rats, but Choke could see a swarm of the vermin moving to cut off their escape. A roaring sound came from behind him. Choke glanced back, seeing Rukh throw Fireballs, lighting up the darkness and revealing an army of brown-furred rats converging rapidly toward them.
“Mother save!” Chak-Soon intoned fearfully.
Choke understood the Tigon’s sentiments. The rats would eat them alive.
More roaring as Rukh threw more Fireballs.
Choke risked another fearful glance behind. The Fireballs hadn’t slowed the rats. Just like all the other animals in this cursed city, Death held no fear for them. The vermin chittered as they raced forward, picking up speed, and closing the distance.
“When I say jump, all of you jump; a
nd I mean as high as you can!” Rukh shouted. Choke had no idea what the Human had in mind, but he’d come to trust him. “Jump!”
Choke bunched his muscles and leapt upward as high as he could, burdened as he was with Chak-Soon. Beneath them passed a wave of fire, white-hot, racing only inches off the ground. A Fire Shower. The air was suddenly crowded with the stench of burning flesh and fur.
“Run!” Rukh said. “There’s still more coming!”
Choke didn’t need further urging. He picked up speed, kicking aside a stray rat, smoking and dead as he outraced Jessira to the entrance. He burst out into the sunlight where a troop of baboons and a pack of wolves lay in wait. The animals howled with rage upon spotting him.
Choke’s heart thudded in his chest. Devesh save them!
Jessira fired off two arrows as soon as she stepped outside. Two baboons went down. The rest held back, but it would only be for a moment. They were working themselves into a killing frenzy. Li-Choke had set the Tigon down. His trident and whip were at the ready. Good. The odds weren’t in their favor, but if Rukh would hurry up, they could still make it out of here. She shot off another arrow, putting down a wolf this time. Choke snapped his whip, tearing flesh from a baboon. The animal howled in pain.
Rukh finally exited the library and slammed shut the doors. Without breaking stride, he fired three Fireballs, burning open a temporary path through the area where the baboons were clustered most thickly.
“Stay near me,” Jessira ordered Choke. “I’ll Blend us.” The Bael gave a tight nod and loaded Chak-Soon onto the packhorse, which stood placidly, unworried by the battle about to take place. The baboons and wolves barked in confusion when Jessira and the others suddenly disappeared.
She would have sighed with relief except that Rukh, somehow always forgetting his non-Kumma Talents, ran past them, still in plain sight. Jessira cursed vividly. If she called out to him, she’d give away her own position. Just as she was about to do so, however, inexplicably, first the baboons and then the wolves paused in their pursuit. They glanced around and shook their heads, looking confused. A few wolves still eyed Rukh, but their gazes simply held the measuring assessment of one predator eyeing another. As for the baboons, they hooted to one other and melted away into the ruins of the city. The wolves quickly followed, slipping away in silence through hidden alleys and vacant buildings.
Jessira let go of her Blend and stalked over to Rukh.
“I should have Blended,” he said before she could say a word.
“Then why didn’t you?” she snapped.
“I didn’t want to.”
“What!” He had known what to do and had simply chosen not to do it. She was about to let him know just how stupid his decision had been, but understanding came to her. She closed her eyes and prayed for patience. He’d left himself visible for her sake, so the animals would have a target to attack, all in order to save her. Her mouth shut with a snap. She didn’t need or want his protection—at least not as much as he seemed to think. What she needed was his respect.
“I respect your courage,” he said, reading her thoughts as he so often did. “But I was raised to give myself for those I love. I’d have done the same for Bree or Jaresh.”
She sighed in resignation. It was pure Rukh, and it infuriated her. He infuriated her, but she loved him, every part of him. She couldn’t ask him to go against his nature. “I know,” she said, pulling him into an embrace. “I just wish you would let me do the same for you.”
He tucked a stray curl of hair behind her ear, and a faint smile creased his lips. “It’s who I am.”
The last of her irritation left her, leaving her smiling. Sometimes words were like chocolate on his lips, so sweet and wonderful. She would have kissed him, but just then, Li-Choke reminded them of the danger they were still in.
“We should leave before the animals decide to attack us once again.”
Jessira glared at the Bael, hard enough for Choke to step back. Even the Tigon seemed to sense her annoyance and wisely kept his muzzle shut. All she wanted was a few hours alone with Rukh. Was that too much to ask?
“I agree,” Rukh said. “But I think the animals only attack your kind.”
“So it seems,” Choke replied.
“Then you should travel with us,” Rukh said. Jessira winced. Journeying with Chimeras was not something she wanted to do. “We can stay with you long enough until you’re safe,” Rukh continued. “After that, I suppose you’ll go back to the Eastern Plague?”
Choke nodded.
“What about him?” Jessira asked, nodding toward Chak-Soon who glowered at her and Rukh.
Choke shrugged. “He is still new to Hume’s ideals. He will learn.”
“If you say so,” Jessira replied, doubtful the Tigon would learn much of anything. “But if it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll sleep with my eyes open.”
If we allowed those who follow Suwraith to speak, they would refuse our invitation and choose to remain hidden in the shadows. They are cowards.
~Our Lives Alone by Asias Athandra, AF 331
Rector and Mira were having lunch at a café near Jubilee Hills. It was a routine debriefing, and they sat outside at a small table, enjoying the sunlight and the unseasonably fine weather. While Ashoka’s winters were generally mild, even for the city’s warm climate, the past few days had been unusual. It had been like a blast of summer in the midst of winter, and the entire city felt more vibrant, more alive, like a need to sing and dance had been sparked in everyone’s blood.
Even Mira must have caught the fever. She had shed her typical winter’s garb of a heavy dress or skirt paired with a full-length blouse and in their place, wore a green, summer sari that left her arms bare. Rector thought it looked nice on her. It was a startling notion. When had he started seeing Mira as an attractive woman?
“Dar’El is still angry with you,” Mira said, drawing Rector’s attention back to the conversation at hand.
“Why?” he asked. “I found the man who attacked Bree.”
“And gave him an easy death,” Mira replied.
Her statement triggered a flash of hurt, and Rector blinked away unbidden tears. He turned away and stared at the passing crowd, his thoughts circling back again and again to Jaciro Temult’s workroom and the terrible events there. Those last few seconds just before Rector had taken the Rahail’s life had forever been branded into his memory, seared like a moth in candle wax. His knife had slid in smoothly, taking the Rahail in the heart. It had been a clean death, more than the man had deserved. Perhaps it had even been an easy one for him.
But not for Rector.
There were nights when Rector awoke drenched in a cold sweat, his heart thudding and tears springing from his eyes. But it wasn’t nightmares that interrupted his sleep. It was something far worse, something real and horrible that he’d witnessed; something he’d authored. It was something he could never forget. He could still see the light fade from the Rahail’s eyes like the sun setting on his life. That haunting image and the knowledge that he was responsible for another person’s death lingered with him like a curse.
An easy death? If only it were true.
Mira noticed his silence. “What is it?”
Rector turned back to her. “Ask Dar’El if he’s ever spilled someone’s blood. Ask him if he’s ever seen their hope die, their life flee. Ask him then if there is ever such a thing as an easy death.”
Mira studied him in silence. “I’m sorry,” she finally said.
Rector rubbed at his temples, hoping to soothe his incipient headache even as he sought to set aside thoughts of the Rahail’s death. “If given the same choice, I’d do it again,” he said.
“I know you would,” Mira said. “But I also know how hard it must have been for you.” Surprisingly, her voice held a tone of sympathy.
Rector appreciated her sentiment. Her compassion was as touching as it was unexpected. “It wasn’t—” he grimaced “—easy.”
Mira looke
d him in the eyes, concern on her face. “Will you be all right?”
“I don’t know. But there’s nothing to be done about it now.” Rector forced a smile. “I guess I’ll just have to get past it.”
Mira reached across the table and surprised him once again by giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “At least we know who ordered the attack on Bree and Jaresh. It was this Rahail woman, someone important in the Sil Lor Kum, a MalDin as they call it. She’s probably the same one who met with the Kumma on the night Drin Port was murdered.”
“We need to find her,” Rector said. “When we do, I think we’ll also find the Kumma.”
“Dar’El believes he might even be the Withering Knife murderer.”
“So do I,” Rector said. “There’s more I learned,” he added. “I was able to locate some older records from the warehouse. There were a few journals left in some old, discarded boxes. They indicate more missing poppy seeds and henna and also misplaced shipments of juniper and sourwain.”
“Then it was snowblood,” Mira breathed. “I never expected….” She trailed off, lost in thought.
Rector scowled. “Meaning you were only guessing before and were prepared to ruin House Wrestiva based on rumors, lies, and innuendo.”
“Not House Wrestiva,” Mira corrected. “Only Hal’El Wrestiva. And it turns out our guesses weren’t just rumors, lies, or innuendo.”
Rector cursed softly. “Sometimes I think it would have been better if I had remained blindly ignorant.”
“Blindly ignorant is why you’re in this situation,” Mira reminded him. “You’re a better man for opening your eyes.”
“Maybe,” Rector said, mulling over Mira’s words. Some of what she said was true. He’d learned wisdom, but the cost had been so high; the loss of innocence and exposure to ugly truths he’d never guessed might be real.
