by Watson Davis
Che-su blinked back tears and kissed Sifa’s cheek. She placed her hand over Sifa’s, over the manacle, and spoke a word. The old woman’s hand shifted from side to side, and Sifa sensed the tumblers in the lock moving, sliding back and forth and finally arriving at the correct combination, snapping open.
Che-su asked, “How is it that you know the magic to remove that infernal collar from my neck, but can’t even defeat a simple lock? Ka-bes could not have taught you the magic of the collar.”
“Oh, I don’t know magic,” Sifa said, pushing the tunic toward Che-su, looking around once more to see if anyone watched them.
A man looked away—a man with a familiar countenance. Sifa glowered at him, trying to recall where she’d seen him before.
“Don’t know magic?” Che-su said, pulling at the tunic, staring down at it. “Dearest, you are magic. I will show you how to use that if we get out of here.”
“Change your clothes under the blanket,” Sifa whispered. “Don’t let anyone see.”
She stood up and strode over to the man with a simple slave collar around his neck. He licked his lips and tried not to watch her approach, but he knew she was coming, and she saw his discomfort grow with each step.
She stopped beside him. “Wu Cheen.”
He looked up at her, and swallowed. “I wasn’t going to warn anyone it was you. I promise.”
“Right,” Sifa said, a sickness crawling up her throat, a realization that he could have betrayed them to secure his own freedom, and still might.
A healer rushed by, glancing at her, at Wu Cheen, and continued on his way to a different cot.
“And if I get you out with us?” Sifa said. “Are you going to go running off on your own again?”
“I will be your man forever if you can get me out of here.” He grimaced. “But they collared me and ordered me to stay here. I can’t move.”
A hand settled on Sifa’s shoulder and she started, recoiling, but it was Che-su staring down at her with a raised brow.
Sifa said, “We need to bring this one with us.”
The healer walked back and asked, “What is going on here? Visitors are prohibited. I’m going to have to ask you two to leave.”
Sifa averted her eyes, staring down at the ground, her face growing warm as she tried to think of something to say.
The Beggar's Gate
“I AM INJURED, BUT IF you can stabilize me, I should be able to make it back to my personal physicker,” Che-su said. “But this one?” She gestured toward Wu Cheen, sneering and shaking her head. “He is my slave. He tried to escape in the confusion. He does not deserve to be around the brave and noble wounded in this sacred and holy edifice, dedicated to the grace and love of our Empress, sealed with the blood of the purest.”
“Oh,” the healer said, bowing. “You look familiar, madam, but I don’t recall...”
“I’m visiting from Timyiskil where I’m an aide to Abbess Agano.” Che-su’s eyebrow rose. “I thought I had left the war and battle there with the Onei, but I seem to have brought it with me.”
“Of course, madam. Let me see to that.” The healer moved to her side and placed his hands on her, and they glowed.
Che-su’s cuts closed, her skin growing back and replacing the burned areas. She straightened and sighed with relief.
Someone shouted out a name. The physicker looked up and then glanced at Che-su.
“Go ahead.” She nodded and waved to him. “I’m sure I’ve been healed sufficiently to make it back to my lodgings at Master Tee Lon’s.”
“Thank you, madam.” He bowed and then stomped away, rubbing his hands together, moving on to his next patient.
Che-su reached out and tapped the collar around Wu Cheen’s neck, whispering magical words, before saying, “You can move now. Come with us.”
“Out the north gate,” Sifa said. She followed her mother with her head bowed, afraid a healer or one of the assistants would come too close, get a look at her eyes and start asking questions, but Che-su strode forward with her head high and proud, daring them to question her and her right to be there.
Wu Cheen scurried along behind Che-su, hunched over and cringing at each of her movements as though fearing a whipping. Che-su marched through the careful arrangement of cots, and waited at the door for Wu Cheen to rush forward and open it, bowing and scraping as he did so.
Sifa fought to keep a smile from her lips, and hoped she gave the appearance of a humble acolyte following her mistress.
The three walked out the door, past healers and priests and priestesses, into the muggy night outside. The damp stone path glittered, and the smell of wet dirt hung heavy in the air, not even outdone by the stench of the hellfire, the stink of the brimstone.
Che-su bowed her head and averted her eyes, her demeanor growing less sure as they marched to the north gate, her gait growing unsteady.
Wu Cheen wrapped his arm around her shoulders and assisted her as they strode into the rightmost arch, beneath a statue of the Empress with her head bowed and the fingers of her right hand touching her chest over her heart while her left hand reached out as though waiting for someone to take her hand. A dragon spread its wings to her left and a gryphon attacked from her right.
Sifa increased her pace and drew up alongside Che-su as they entered the gate. She whispered, “What is wrong?”
“I am well enough.” Che-su, the sheen of sweat on her brow, raised her left hand, a signal for Sifa to be quiet, to wait. They walked through the gate, into a square plaza, the four corners of which pointed to the cardinal points.
People crowded in the edges of the square, talking to each other in a loud hubbub, sitting at tables beneath ripped awnings, pointing at the damage visible within the temple complex.
In the center of the square, a fountain bubbled, the water gushing up and flowing over the rippling edges of the fountain onto the stones beneath, cascading down in a torrent to a drain where it pooled. The statue of the fountain, a statue of several of the old gods bringing gifts to the Empress, had been struck by lightning, the stone broken and shattered. Only one god still remained—the god of storms—while the Empress’s statue lay face-down on the ground, its face and back shattered.
Che-su touched Sifa’s elbow and leaned toward her, whispering, “You never know when the old bitch is listening.”
Sifa blinked. She glanced around at the crowded street, wondering who the ‘old bitch’ was, but, not wanting to appear dense, she didn’t ask. Once they passed through the gate, Che-su’s careful steps grew more ragged, and she began to limp, with one hand pushing down on her hip.
Alizadeh waved to them from the far side of the plaza, leaning against a beaten-up cart, the wooden planks making up the bed of the cart warped in places, rotting in others. And before the cart, a grizzled mule waited with its ears pinned back, its nostrils flaring with each steamy breath. Alizadeh walked out to meet them. “I can’t believe you made it out of there. The gods walk beside you.”
“What is this?” Sifa jogged forward, leaving Che-su’s side, gesturing toward the cart, the mule. “This is supposed to be a horse with a wagon, not a mule with a cart.”
Shiyk’yath hobbled out from a dark alley, tugging at the crotch of his pants and shaking his leg. “Close enough. Aren’t you even going to ask about how we got up here from the west gate in time to meet you?”
“The mule and the cart were the best we could do with the short notice,” Alizadeh said, glaring past Sifa and Che-su at Wu Cheen. “I’d hoped we’d seen the last of you.”
Wu Cheen shrugged. “These two honorable ladies found themselves in need of manlier escort than you.”
Alizadeh opened and closed his fists. “You ran out on us and left us.”
Che-su inserted herself between them, raising her hands. “Gentlemen, now is a bad time for discussion. We have to leave this town before the vassals and lackeys of the Empress discover us and discern our import to their masters.”
Shiyk’yath blinked. “Hu
h?”
“She said to shut up because we have to leave town,” Sifa said, helping Che-su to the cart, supporting the elder woman’s weight as she climbed the steps up into the driver’s seat.
Shiyk’yath leapt in beside Che-su and grabbed the reins. He peered down at the old woman and held the reins out to her. “Mind if I drive?”
“Please.” Che-su nodded to him, and settled herself into the wooden bench, sighing and wincing. “We need to find a healer as soon as we get out of here, and not one that works for the empire.”
Sifa turned to Wu Cheen, reaching her hands up to him. “Let me get that collar off of you.”
“Wait until we’re in the shadows,” Che-su whispered.
Wu Cheen bowed, grinning, and said, “Ever your servant, milady.”
ALIZADEH DIRECTED THEM from the square, down narrow alleys and streets, some too tight for Sifa to walk alongside the cart, so she clambered up into the bed beside Wu Cheen, who lounged in the back, leaning in the corner, his forearms sitting on the edge of the bed, his gaze behind them, his eyes glittering.
Sifa sat cross-legged beside him and when no one could see, she removed his collar.
“Sifa?” Che-su said, twisting in her seat, her breath labored.
“Yes?” Sifa turned and crawled the length of the cart to sit behind her. She grinned up at her mother, feeling her heart almost whole, feeling Che-su’s joy and gratitude, but also a nagging confusion, an almost hectic frustration from Ka-bes, who seemed very close.
Che-su reached out and brushed the backs of her fingers along Sifa’s cheek. “I just want to know everything about you, everything that has happened to you since I had to send you away.”
“Why?” Sifa asked, gazing up with wonder into the depths of her mother’s eyes and soul.
“Why?” Che-su laughed. “Why in all the realms would I want to know about you?”
“I’m boring,” Sifa said. “I want to know everything about you. A priestess? A rector?”
“You are my soul, my breath,” Che-su said. “How could I not want to know everything about you, every detail?”
Wu Cheen muttered, “Oh gods, render me deaf.”
Sifa kicked him in the ribs without looking away from Che-su. “I want to know where I come from, who my family is, who my father is. I thought you were my father. Everyone thinks I am Summoned, but Ka-bes told me I am not Summoned, but no one believes me when I tell them I am not Summoned. Am I Summoned? I’m not, am I?”
Wu Cheen turned onto his side and covered his ears. “Perhaps you should take me back to the infirmary.”
“No, you were not summoned.” Che-su shook her head and placed her hand over her belly. “You came from my womb. My sister and brother and their families live in Nayengim, but they have disowned me.”
Sifa sighed, relieved. “And my father?”
Che-su glanced around, and whispered, “Perhaps we should speak of him later and in private.”
“Oh?” Sifa nodded, and then brightened. “You said you think I can cast magic, if I had training. Ka-bes never taught me. She just made me breathe, and breathe, and concentrate on my breath, and on golden sunlight dripping down my insides and filling me with warmth and light and space. So boring.”
Che-su rubbed Sifa’s forearm. “That’s not a bad place to start from; Ka-bes was a good choice, a better choice than I would have made.”
“Everyone quiet now,” Alizadeh said. “My old gang had some agreements with these guards.”
The gate they approached was a workman’s gate, a small single archway, unadorned with extravagant display. Two guards in heavy ponchos sat on wooden stools beside the gate, their pikes leaning against the wall behind them, shortswords dangling from their belts. A small, homely fire crackled next to them beside the wall, the wall blackened above that spot by countless fires burned there over the years.
“Bak Tun, Ku-lek,” Alizadeh said approaching them with his hands out from his sides, palms up. “Crappy night for guard duty, huh?”
The shorter of the two guards walked up to Alizadeh with his palms out, motioning for him to stop; the taller of the guards grabbed his pike from the wall and leaned it against his shoulder.
“Thought you’d been picked up for treason and were on your way to the mines,” the shorter guard said, glancing past Alizadeh toward the cart, one fist on his hips, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “Good to see your ugly mug, though.”
“You have no idea, Bak Tun,” Alizadeh said with a chuckle, shaking his head, “how good it is to see the stars and the clouds.”
“How’d you get out?” the other guard—Ku-lek—asked, his pike resting on his shoulder as he strolled away from the gate, looping around Alizadeh. “Who’d you give up?”
“I didn’t give anyone up, but it’s a long story,” Alizadeh said. “Maybe we can grab a beer tomorrow night and I’ll tell you all about it.”
Wu Cheen slipped over the side of the cart, landing in a crouch. He edged to the side into the shadows, peering not at the gate or Alizadeh, but up at the walls to either side of the cart, up toward the roofs. Sifa looked around, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end, but she saw nothing but the tops of buildings silhouetted against the night sky.
“A beer sounds really good,” Bak Tun said. He nodded toward the cart. His hand pressed against the hilt of his sword, freeing it with an audible click. “What do you have over there? Some human cargo, looks like.”
“Yeah, I’ve got some friends I’d like for you to meet.” Alizadeh lowered his hands and backed away from the guard. He turned and walked toward the cart, his eyes flicking up toward the rooftops.
“Really?” Ku-lek said, lowering his pike and pointing it toward Alizadeh’s back. A grin spread over his face. “We’ve been told to watch out for some escaped prisoners.”
Alizadeh ducked and shouted, “Run!”
Che-su sprang to her feet. The cart shook beneath her, and she staggered, tumbling to her knees on the seat. Sifa leapt down and rushed to Che-su’s side of the cart.
From the rooftops, an ancient command triggered a spell, and the magic rippled down, engulfing them, surrounding them. Sifa looked up at Che-su and tried to ask her what was going on, but no sound came out of her mouth.
SIFA REACHED UP TO Che-su, motioning for her to take her hands, for the elder woman to hurry. Che-su tumbled into her arms and Sifa toppled backward, slamming against the wall under Che-su’s sudden and unexpected weight.
Ku-lek, the tall guard, lowered his pike like a lance and charged toward Alizadeh’s back. Alizadeh lunged aside and whirled around, facing his attackers. Shiyk’yath leapt from the driver’s seat, but his leg gave way beneath him when he landed. He scrabbled to his feet and hopped toward Alizadeh and the two guards.
Wu Cheen surged to his feet with a rock in his hand. Twisting his head away and raising his off hand to protect himself, he smashed out a dark window on the wall behind him. He tossed the rock aside and leapt up, grabbing the mantel of the window. With the grace of experience, he slithered in through the broken window, through the dark curtains, into the home beyond.
Sifa tried to call out to Wu Cheen, to remind him of his promise to her, to beg for his help, but no sound escaped her mouth. He was gone, leaving only rustling curtains and shattered glass in his wake.
Che-su pushed herself to her feet, mouthing silent words, her hands darting and jerking from position to position. Magic pulsed around her, appearing and disappearing, growing brighter and then darker, rising and falling like the waves on the shore. Without the chant, without the words, she could not summon and focus the magic, and she could not cast the counterspell to return her voice.
“Rector Che-su of Tuth-yoo and the shepherd girl.” A shadow dropped from the roofs above, a woman, a priestess, her cloak flapping in the currents of air. Magic surrounded her, slowing her fall, settling her on the ground. “Such an honor to capture the two of you. Master Dyuh Mon will be pleased with me.”
A
lizadeh deflected Ku-lek’s pike and sidestepped away. Bak-tun skipped forward toward Alizadeh, slinging his blade, but Alizadeh lashed out with his fist, striking the guard in the face, knocking him backward. Shiyk’yath scrabbled around the fire and the stools and grabbed the pike still leaning against the wall. Alizadeh whipped his shortsword from his belt, backing away from Ku-lek.
“No one expected you to come to this gate,” the priestess said, her hands focusing her magic before her. “All the better for me. I don’t have to share the credit.”
Sifa rolled to her feet, lowered her head, and launched herself toward the priestess, her anger granting her strength and speed. The priestess leapt into the air, and hung there while Sifa ran beneath her.
Sifa, unable to stop or slow down, careened off a wall and fell into a puddle, sliding for several strides in the mud. The priestess landed on her feet, returning her attention to Che-su.
Ku-lek’s pike jabbed out and Alizadeh dodged, swiping at the haft of the pike with his sword, but Ku-lek grunted and shifted the direction of his weapon, whipping it back around, surprising Alizadeh and slicing through the orc’s side, cutting deep into his ribs. Alizadeh leapt back and dropped his weapon, clutching at his wound with both hands.
The priestess spoke a word and a fine strand of web sprang forth from her hand, flying out and wrapping around Che-su, who fought against it, her mouth open in a silent scream of rage and frustration. The webbing wrapped her up, binding her into a white cocoon. She fell to the dirt beside the cart, wriggling.
Sifa pushed herself to her feet, and hurled herself once more at the priestess’s back, hoping to hit her but not too hard. A window along the wall to the priestess’s left shattered. Glass flew out into the alley, the shards tinkling as they rained down to the ground.
The priestess turned, her mouth dropping open. She raised her hands with magic churning around them.
“Hey, cutey!” Wu Cheen shouted. A heavy-bladed cooking knife flew from the now open window, flipping end over end, and thudded into the middle of the priestess’s forehead, cracking her skull, sinking halfway into her head.
