I strain to identify the voices in the clearing before I arrive. When I break through the foliage, I glance quickly from face to face—Tal’s stern dark eyes, Gatha’s stubborn chin, Vidarna’s regal profile, Karu’s sneer...and then I see Dineas and relief floods through me. He slumps where he sits, as if straightening up is too much of an effort right now, though other than a bruised jaw he has no immediately visible injuries. He catches my eye and his face brightens. There’s no hint of anger from him, and I realize that I don’t feel any toward him either.
I take my spot at the opposite pole of the circle, a safe distance from the others. The tension is palpable. Everybody’s looking at each other, yet nobody speaks. And for once, it’s painfully clear what this gathering of people really is: strangers forced together by fate.
Gatha clears her throat. “Zivah, the others know about the outcome of the bridge mission already. The Amparans discovered us very early on. Our fighters caused some damage to the bridge, but not nearly enough, and now we must be realistic about what choices lie before us.” She turns to Tal. “I know your people are attached to their homes, but there’s no way we can defend a village like Dara against an army of that size. Dara has no walls, no fortifications. Your houses are too spread out. If we face the Amparans in fair battle, we will lose.”
My heart sinks at Gatha’s words.
“Do what you must,” says Tal. “But do what you can to ensure we have a home to return to.”
“It’s in all our best interest to keep the lands habitable,” says Gatha. “And we will keep looking for ways to shorten this fight.” She looks at me. “Zivah, you’ve been looking for more evidence against Baruva and Kiran. Have you found anything?”
“Baruva’s too careful to put anything incriminating in his notes,” I say. “But we heard today from a Rovenni messenger about rumors in the rosemarked colonies. There’s a former slave at Khaygal outpost who may be able to tell us more about how Arxa’s battalion was infected.”
“It’s not clear to me,” says Karu, “how a slave a continent away could be of any use to us.”
“I could go find her. I’ve made the trip before.”
“You made the trip with Dineas,” says Gatha. “And we can’t spare him now, not with the Amparans so close.”
Dineas frowns at that, though I’m not sure what exactly upsets him.
“Send someone else with me, then,” I say. “I can’t row across the strait, but I know the continent.”
“You’ve risked your life once already,” says Karu. “It’d be folly to send you out again. We know the positions of the main force at our shores but can’t account for other forces that may be moving into the region.”
Karu had never struck me as someone particularly concerned about my well-being. “Everyone else is doing their part,” I say. “I must as well.”
“You’re not useful to us if you die thousands of leagues away in pursuit of an imaginary woman,” she says. “There’s one way you can be most useful to us, and it’s time we stop avoiding the obvious.”
“Speak plainly, Karu,” says Gatha.
“You know what I’m saying.” Karu’s voice is sharp, pointed. “We cannot continue to survive if we cling to our notions of honorable battle.”
It takes me a moment to understand what she means. “I won’t infect the troops. It’s not just a matter of blindly following my vows. Sickening that many people who live in such close quarters, there would be no way to contain the disease. The plague could spread back through the supply trains to the rest of Ampara.”
“Karu.” Gatha’s voice holds a growl of warning. “Your words are not worthy of a Shidadi.”
“In a generation, there will be no Shidadi,” Karu snaps. “If we must make some changes to survive, so be it.” She looks to Vidarna and Tal. “And you two agree with me. Don’t hide it.”
Gatha looks at Vidarna, who looks away. “I don’t completely agree with Karu,” he says, “but in times such as these, we would be foolish to dismiss any tactic out of hand. Kiran gazes on Monyar from his warship, and we’re nothing but fleas to him.”
Gatha turns incredulously to Tal, who stays silent a long time, staring at the ground. Finally he raises his head and looks at me. “Is it worth it, Zivah? Is it worth losing our home and our lives?”
The chills that had been spreading along my skin turn to ice. If even Tal has abandoned me...
“Taking this path is too high a price,” says Dineas. “If we infect the Amparans, we would no longer be Shidadi, and no longer worth saving.”
His vehemence surprises me. I look at him, grateful for support, but he’s glaring at Karu.
“Strange words from one who is hardly Shidadi himself these days,” says Karu. “How did the Amparans find out so quickly about the attack, Dineas?”
Dineas jumps to his feet.
“Enough!” says Gatha, her voice a thunderclap over the field. “Everything that can be said has been said, and no good will come of staying here further. We adjourn now and go our separate ways for the night. We’ll reconvene tomorrow, when heads are cooler.”
I’m in a daze as the leaders disperse. My heart races as if I’d been in a battle, and I suppose I have. Perhaps I might have expected Karu or Vidarna to pressure me into breaking my vows, but to have Tal turn against me as well...
Dineas storms out without a second glance at any of us. Gatha gazes after him, then sighs. “This is war, Zivah,” she says. “It’s a messy affair.”
Tal simply shakes his head. “Goddess help us.” He doesn’t look at me either.
I’m restless after I return to my cottage. Words from the meeting echo in my mind. Am I a fool to hold my ground? I don’t know why Dineas left so quickly, or what he’s thinking right now, but I need to talk to him.
My best chance of finding Dineas is through Scrawny, who seems to be around more than strictly necessary these days—I think he’s taking a liking to me. To summon him, I fasten a blue cloth to my roof and wait. Sure enough, a flurry of black feathers appears on my windowsill a half hour later.
“Good to see you, friend.” I give him a few crumbs of bread.
He snaps them up almost before I’ve dropped them all, then gives me a baleful glance.
“Was that not enough?” I spread out a few more, and this time he settles down.
I write a short note and tie it to Scrawny’s leg. “Find Dineas.”
Scrawny takes off in the direction of the mountains. I can tell by his confidence that he knows where to find him.
The afternoon goes slowly by. At first I try to read Baruva’s scrolls, but they just taunt me about the decision I must make. Am I wrong to say no? Am I turning my back on my family, on my people? I think of Leora and her unborn child, and I wonder if I’m bringing about their doom.
Finally I hear footsteps on the trail to my house. I rush outside, but it’s not Dineas at the top of the trail. It’s Karu.
I stop in my tracks. Compared to the likes of Gatha, Karu looks slight and rather young, but her expression is chiseled in stone.
“Warlord,” I say.
“No need to pretend to be glad to see me,” she says, walking right past me. “We face hardships enough without creating new tasks for ourselves.” She stops at the chairs in front of my cottage. “May I sit?”
It takes me a moment to respond. “Of course.”
I sit in my usual chair. Since she’s given me permission to avoid any pretense, I refrain from making conversation. We look at each other without speaking, and then after a moment Karu nods as if satisfied.
“You’re idealistic, as are my people,” she says. “It’s admirable, to be devoted to such noble concepts as honor and fair play.”
“I appreciate your words,” I say. “But I imagine you will now tell me why we can no longer be so devoted.”
Karu gazes at the forest. “My tribe used to number a thousand,” she says. “More than that before I was born. We lived in Central Ampara like Gatha’s tribe. E
mperor Kurosh was brutal toward the Shidadi in the early years of his reign. He sent wave after wave of soldiers at us. Sometimes we held them off, other times we retreated. But then a rose plague outbreak took our best fighters. The Amparans came upon us in force as soon as we recovered, and this time we could not match them.”
Her eyes bore into me. “Have you seen rivers of blood? Gullies that run red with the life of your kin? Your soldiers murdered, their weapons piled up for the Amparans to divide among themselves? Have you seen entire families wiped out, infants dashed against rocks, old men beheaded? Save your honor for those who have honor themselves. Keep your piety for those who don’t spit on the gods. When you see your kin falling to Amparan swords, your people enslaved and sold across the empire, we’ll see what you think of your vows.”
I curl my hands over the side of my chair. The images Karu’s words evoke in my mind are all too vivid.
Karu stands. “I’ve said my piece. I trust you will make the right choice.”
She leaves me then without waiting for a reply, and I don’t know how long I sit there, staring after her. Nothing Karu said was unexpected. In fact, it felt all too familiar, perhaps because I’d already imagined those things myself.
Wings beat above me, and Scrawny lands on my shoulder. The note on his foot has been removed, but there’s no reply. Sharp disappointment lances through me.
“Did you find him?” I ask.
The bird squawks, which could either be a yes or a no.
As hours pass with no sign of Dineas, my disappointment turns into anger. Where is he? Why would he leave me to this? After the meeting today I thought we’d put our arguments behind us. Perhaps I’d been wrong.
Night comes without any news. When I finally sleep, I dream that I’m looking down on the Monyar Strait from above. One side is lush and green with bamboo. On the other side, the Amparan army gathers before swarming across the strait into Monyar. Then blood oozes out of the earth, filling up the valleys until it overflows back into the ocean.
I tear through the forest, knocking plants out of my path and sending rodents and birds scattering. When was it that my people became strangers to me? At what point did they change into something I was ashamed to be a part of? I was raised to believe that war was a test of strength, skill, and bravery. Spycraft was barely tolerated—assassinations, a method of the cowardly. But now Karu and Vidarna are talking about using rose plague against the entire Amparan army. Have things changed so much? Or was I just too blind to see how things really were?
In my mind’s eye, I see Zivah facing down our leaders. I see the cynicism in Karu’s eyes and the desperation in Tal’s. Zivah will only be able to hold out for so long. Sooner or later, they’ll wear her down.
I try taking my frustration out on the bamboo around me, and quickly lose that fight. Cradling my bruised hand, I slink back into camp. My legs ache from the long night and hike back up the mountains. At this time of day, it doesn’t look much like a camp at all—no fires, no bedrolls, just a handful of Shidadi milling about, resting, eating, and talking. The few people who look in my direction take one glance at my face and go back to what they were doing.
I settle down at the base of a fat stalk of bamboo, away from the others. Carefully, I remove my weapons and lay them out before me. There’s a dry patch on one side of my bow, so I work a chunk of lard and beeswax into the wood. The mindless, repetitive task helps for my frustration—somewhat.
A shadow falls across me, and I look up to see Frada’s characteristic smirk. He’d been one of those who chose to attack the bridge despite my signal to retreat. It might have been out of loyalty, though given that Frada doesn’t even trust me to scout around our camp, I wonder if he stayed to keep an eye on me. Whatever the reason, he sports a bandage across his brow for his efforts. I know I owe him for lending me his sword, but I’m in no mood to chat. I return pointedly to my work.
“Feeling put together again?” he asks.
So he’s not going to take the hint. “I didn’t have anything that needed treating. Just a few bruises.”
“Huh.” There are layers of accusation behind that word.
“You would have done well to follow my signal to retreat,” I say. “That face of yours doesn’t need any more decoration.”
“My sword was getting thirsty.”
“You know, an Amparan soldier would get in a lot of trouble for staying when the leader calls a retreat.”
“We all know you’re an expert on Amparan customs.”
My wax block slips, sending my knuckle burning across the wood.
“Did you enjoy paying respects to your friend on the bridge?” Frada asks.
A slow prickle of ice spreads up my arm and down my spine. “What did you say?”
“The Amparan archer. The one who didn’t shoot you.”
I stop working the wax. “You’re mistaken.”
“I have eyes,” says Frada. “And I’m not a fool.” He crouches down to look me in the eye. “You know what else I saw? What you did to Tus on that mountainside before you hauled him off to the imperial dungeons.”
My heartbeat drums in my head. I grip my bow until my knuckles turn white.
Frada leans closer. “Tell us what happened to him in the capital, Dineas. How did he die? Peacefully? In his sleep? Or did he rot to death while you were busy playing emperor’s favorite soldier?”
An animal sound escapes my throat as I launch myself at him, one hand going to his neck as the other pulls back for a punch. He must have been expecting me to attack, but he still falls back at the sheer fury of my onslaught. We roll on the ground, ramming each other into stalks of bamboo and struggling for an advantage. I’m vaguely aware of shouts, which I ignore until someone drags me up by the tunic. Pain explodes on the side of my face, and I land stupidly on my backside.
Gatha stands between the two of us. “Fools! Maybe the two of you should take up hammers and help the Amparans build their bridge, since you’re so intent on doing their work for them.”
Frada tries to come at me again, but two Shidadi grab him under the arms. “If you had any honor, you would have saved Tus!” he shouts at me.
Gatha moves so that she’s squarely in front of Frada. “I gave the order to leave Tus in the Amparan dungeons. If you have a problem with how Tus died, you take it up with me.” She looks at the men holding him. “Remove him to the other side of camp.” As they drag him away, she casts her eyes at the gathering crowd. “Back to your business.”
I stand in a haze as the crowd disperses. After a while, I’m vaguely aware that I’m alone with Gatha, but I can’t look her in the eye. If you had any honor, you would have saved Tus. Sometimes truth comes from the mouths of people you trust and respect. Sometimes, it comes from arrogant bastards who know nothing but are right about you nonetheless.
“Look at me, Dineas.” The way Gatha says it, it’s not a request.
I look up at her. She’s fierce, protective, and completely wrong about me.
“It was my order to leave Tus there. Do you hear me?” she says.
“Yes, Warlord.” It was her order, but it was my dagger that killed him.
“Do you hear me, Dineas?”
“Yes.” I sound dead. I feel dead.
She shakes her head in frustration, but she waves me away. I pick up my weapons and charge up the mountainside. When the path splits, I take the one headed more steeply up. I repeat that several times until the trail ends at a ridge overlooking the ocean. I’m on one of the highest cliffs in the area. The waves frothing below look like mere ripples, and the warships like child’s toys.
I’m surprised to find a pyramid of stones here—a monument made by a Shidadi priest to Yaras, god of the sky. The Amparans worship the gods in temples, but our ways are to honor them in the temples of their own making. The priest who built this altar must be from one of the other tribes, because ours was killed several years ago. I wonder how long it will be before all of our priests are gone. We fight so ha
rd to keep our identity as Shidadi, but it seems we’re losing ourselves nonetheless.
I take a seat at the edge of the cliff and dangle my legs above the dizzying drop. In the distance, the boat bridge stretches back to the Amparan shore. Their army camps at the other end—massive, powerful, unstoppable. Are we really doomed if Zivah doesn’t infect them with the plague?
There’s a crunch of dirt behind me, and I grab my knife. Sarsine stands a few paces away, hands held up.
“Careful there, sir. Our numbers are small enough as it is.”
That they are. “You followed me up here?”
She shrugs. “I wanted to go somewhere quiet. I figured after that fight at camp, you’d be looking for somewhere quiet too, and since you know this place better than me...”
“How much of the fight did you see?”
“Pretty much all of it. I’m a decent eavesdropper, even when people aren’t shouting at the top of their lungs.”
A decent eavesdropper. I remember her on the beach last night, listening as I told Gatha that I hadn’t seen anyone I knew on the warships.
“You were right behind me when we attacked that bridge,” I say.
She nods sagely, and I know she saw what happened between me and Walgash.
“Why didn’t you back Frada up?”
Sarsine shrugs. “It was obvious you knew that archer, but it’s not as if you gave him all our secrets. I think you’re loyal to our people. No reason to complicate things.”
“You think I’m loyal even though I lied to Gatha?”
“I think you have to bend some rules to be truly loyal. Our warlords are only human after all.” She taps her fingers on her leg. “Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe you’ll murder me one day and use my corpse for animal feed.”
I look at her carefully. “Do you really believe that?”
“That you’d use me for animal feed?”
“That sometimes you have to bend some rules to be truly loyal.”
Umbertouched Page 10
