by Kat Ross
Basileus cleared his throat. “Kadmos was installed as the new curator, as promised. We’ve torn the library apart, with no results. It’s not in Herodotus’s residence either. He might have destroyed it.”
“And you’re certain it referred to a fourth talisman?”
“That’s what Kadmos told me. He said the old fool was muttering about it when he thought no one heard. What does it mean?”
“I’m not sure.” Her blue eyes grew distant. “But he should have taken it when he had the chance. What good is a hunting dog that lets the hare go to ground?” She glared at Basileus until he looked away. “And the Ecclesia?”
“The assembly is being…recalcitrant.”
“The old heretic has many friends there, yes?”
“Unfortunately so, Oracle. They are demanding a trial.” He smiled apologetically. “It is the law of Delphi.”
“I’m aware of the laws, Archon.”
“Of course. I didn’t mean to imply—”
“But I need to learn the contents of that scroll. They could be vitally important.”
“Can we not make the old man simply tell us?”
“Torture him, you mean?”
“Well…yes.”
“I’ve told you before, I don’t condone torture. We are not barbarians here.”
“You torture the witches,” Basileus pointed out.
“That’s different. They’re witches.”
Pure hatred flashed across her face, there and gone in an instant. Not for the first time, Basileus wondered why she despised them so deeply. He had no love for the daēvas either, but the Pythia seemed to bear them some personal grudge.
“Besides which,” she said, calm again, “the collar leaves no mark. The pain is merely in their minds.”
“Some say the brazen bull is a form of torture.”
The Pythia’s mouth pursed in distaste. “I did not invent the bull, as you well know. The Tyrants did. It is brutal, yes, but effective as a deterrent.” She shifted testily. “Regardless, if Herodotus bears visible signs of abuse, the Ecclesia will be up in arms. We are not yet in a position to ignore them.”
Basileus tried not to wither under her unblinking stare.
“What of the search for the girl?”
“It continues,” he said lamely.
“So you come to me empty-handed?”
“She must have escaped the city somehow. The Polemarch has been diligent in sparing no one, not even the nobles—”
“Then look outside the city!” the Pythia snarled. “Someone must be sheltering her.”
“Yes…I…we certainly will.”
“She must be the same who was rumored to work fire. Another witch, perhaps. I questioned her companion myself. He knew little of use.”
Basileus frowned. “You think him innocent then?”
“Of conspiracy? Perhaps. We found the sword he claimed she stole, though the philosophers say it is perfectly ordinary and not a construct of magic. But the boy can hardly be freed now. And he did traffic with witches.” She drummed her slender fingers on the tripod. “We’ll burn him with Herodotus after the trial. That should draw a fair-sized crowd.”
“Won’t that anger the Guild in Samarqand?”
“Indeed.” She smiled. “I think the time has come to take the next step, Archon. The Ecclesia must be dealt with. They’ve become more trouble than they’re worth and no longer serve the interests of Delphi. Danger threatens our fair city on all sides, yet the populace goes about their lives unknowing. When they learn the truth, they will realize they need a strong leader to protect them, not this patchwork of ineffectual, feuding institutions.”
Basileus licked his lips. He and the Pythia understood each other. She had promised him a new order—or at least, a return to the old. If he served her faithfully, she would get rid of the whole system—the Archons and the Assembly—and make him Tyrant of Delphi, as in the old days. The golden years, as far as Basileus was concerned.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” the Pythia said.
5
The Hard and the Soft
The soldiers threw Javid back into his old cell, where Aknos the aspiring rapist eyed him balefully but kept his distance. Rush torches flared in brackets set alongside the door, their smoke adding to the thick atmosphere of sweat, urine and general despair. A few of the prisoners snored softly. Javid envied them. He was wide awake, his mind racing through various scenarios, none of them promising.
He wondered what would happen next. If he could find a way to send word to the Merchants’ Guild, they might intercede on his behalf. Or they might decide it was more trouble than he was worth. Either way, it was a moot point as he had no money to bribe a guard.
Javid shifted in discomfort and looked at the chamber pot in the corner.
Perhaps if I never eat or drink again, I’ll manage to avoid that particular complication, he thought. Thus far he’d managed to wait until most of the other prisoners had fallen asleep. The corner was dark and smelled so excruciatingly bad only the insane or catatonic were willing to sit nearby. But Aknos was still awake and Javid had no intention of giving him a show.
“I’ll stand watch if you like,” Katsu offered.
The other prisoner leaned against the wall a few paces away. They’d barely spoken since Katsu saved him from Aknos’s unwanted attentions, but no one had bothered Javid since. He tried not to think about what would happen if Katsu were released or moved to another cell—though from the state of his clothing, he’d been in the dungeons for a while.
Javid looked up, deeply embarrassed. “You don’t mind?”
Katsu shrugged, the slightest twitch of his shoulders.
Javid rose and went over to the chamber pot, trying not to breathe. It was nearly overflowing. Katsu stood with his arms crossed, blocking the view and staring at Aknos until he scowled and looked away. For the hundredth time, Javid wished he could master the art of urinating while standing up, but his body wasn’t equipped for it. He did his business as quickly as possible and they both returned to their bit of unoccupied wall.
“Thanks,” Javid said, his cheeks burning.
“Think nothing of it.”
He studied the thief in profile. Katsu had brown skin but very white teeth and short hair in dense springy curls. He was of medium height and build. The single remarkable thing was his eyes, a clear grey the color of a mockingbird’s wing.
“How long have you been here?” Javid asked.
“Two months, five days.”
“Are you serving out a sentence?”
Katsu’s lips curved in a wry smile. “I’m here at the pleasure of the Polemarch.”
“Open-ended, huh?”
“Or until I find a way out.”
“If you do, let me know.”
The thief nodded. “Where did they take you?” he asked.
“To see the Pythia.”
Katsu turned to him, curiosity lighting his features. “What’s she like?”
“Let’s just say she has a definite magnetism.”
The thief laughed. “I’m sure. What did she want with you?”
“She’s looking for that friend I told you about.” Javid lowered his voice and glanced around, though none of the other prisoners seemed to be listening. He wondered briefly if Katsu could be an informant and resolved not to reveal too much—not that Javid knew anything. All those stories Ashraf told him about her village were obvious lies. “I think she’s a daēva.”
Katsu tilted his head. “Here? How strange. What clan?”
“I don’t know. Danai most likely.”
“I know the Marakai well but not the Danai.”
The seafaring daēvas kept to themselves, everyone knew that. Javid had never met anyone who could claim to know them well.
“Where are you from, Katsu?”
“The Isles of the Marakai.” He laughed at Javid’s startled expression. “Yes, humans live there too.”
“But it’s the darklands!
”
“We have the light of the moons. And there are plenty of fish, though not much else.”
“Is there a city?”
“Nothing so large. A few small villages only, though they’ve existed for many generations. My father says the founding dates back to the Vatra war, when some of the Marakai allowed fleeing humans onto their ships and gave them haven in the Isles. We call ourselves Stygians.”
Javid shook his head in wonder. He’d always fancied himself to be worldly, but in truth, he had never been north past Delphi nor south beyond Susa. The trip across the Umbra to the forests of the Danai had been his greatest adventure so far.
“How did you end up in here? The Polemarch’s dungeon seems a long way from home.”
The thief eyed him askance. “It’s a long story.”
“I’d like to hear it, if you’ll tell me.” Javid smiled. “The alternative is to sit here wondering when and how I will die.”
Katsu slid closer. “I grew up in a family of fisher folk.” He held up his hands. The flickering torchlight revealed a mottling of tiny white scars. “As a child, I would hold the lantern when my father took the boat out. The pitch often sputtered.” He let his hands fall. “The Isles themselves are barren and rocky. It’s not an easy life, and I resolved to make my own way in the world as soon as I turned sixteen.”
“I wasn’t suited for the family business either,” Javid said. “Was your father disappointed?”
“Yes, but he understood. One must love the sea, have salt in the blood, and I didn’t. Oh, I could cast a net and reel a line, but I hated the smell of fish.” He grinned. “I’d cultivated friendships among the daēvas and the Marakai agreed to take me on one of their trade ships bound for Tjanjin.”
“I’ve always wanted to go there,” Javid said wistfully.
“It’s where I learned the way of the Hard”—Katsu made a fist—“and the Soft.” He opened his palm.
“That’s their fighting technique?”
“Yes. They claim some of the masters are more than two hundred years old, though I can’t say if it’s true. But I pestered them until they agreed to teach me. I trained at the Temple of the Four Winds.”
Javid raised an eyebrow. “And I thought I led an exciting life.”
“Tjanjin is half in the Umbra so the daēvas keep an outpost on the eastern shore. I stayed for many years, sometimes sailing with them to other ports. When I returned to Chang’an a few months ago, that’s the capital, it was abuzz. The emperor had been robbed of an ancient talisman. Most people blamed the Greeks because it disappeared the same day their ambassador returned to Delphi. The emperor offered a huge bounty for whoever brought it back.”
“What sort of talisman?”
“I don’t know what it does, but it was described as a glass globe with runes on the base.”
“Let me guess. You came here to find it.”
“I’d performed such services before, discreetly of course. Not many people are willing to travel to Delphi these days. Tjanjin is friendly with the daēvas and the ban on magic here is unpopular. But it seemed a golden opportunity to make my fortune.”
“We have much in common,” Javid admitted. “I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t accepted a risky mission to the darklands in hopes of earning enough to buy a wind ship.”
“What happened?”
“My ship crashed in the Umbra. We were downed by a storm. But I wish to hear the end of your tragic tale first. Then we can more adequately compare our stupidity.”
Katsu’s white teeth flashed in the smoky gloom. “Indeed. You’re wondering how such a skilled thief got himself hooked like a moonstruck herring?”
“Please.”
“Then you shall hear the end of my story, though I trust it will never pass these walls.”
“You have my word on the Holy Father.” Javid made the sign of the flame, touching forehead, lips and heart.
Katsu studied him. “For some reason, I trust you, Javid of Samarqand. There’s not much more to tell anyway. I searched the home of the ambassador first, finding nothing. Then I moved on to the two Archons.”
“You broke into the Archons’ palaces?” Javid asked in disbelief.
“It was not so difficult. The emperor has far greater security, though someone managed to breach it. And my training at the temple included the ways of stealth. I tried the Archon Eponymos first. He is a corrupt bureaucrat and I found numerous secret compartments holding his ill-gotten gains but no evidence of the talisman. It was at the residence of the Archon Basileus where I ran into trouble. Again, I failed to find the talisman, but another hunter had followed me. He attacked when I was leaving, thinking to claim the bounty himself.”
“So you were betrayed?”
“At least our altercation occurred in the street outside. If they’d caught us inside the wall around the palace, I would be dead now. But the guards believed I was a regular street thief.” He scowled. “I should have snapped the man’s neck, but I thought only to get away. He claimed I’d assaulted him and they arrested me.”
“Will they not give you a trial? If it’s your word against his….”
“He must have political connections in Delphi. I’ve given up demanding justice. He may have found the talisman himself by now, I have no idea. But when I find him again, he will regret it.”
Katsu said this without anger, a simple statement of fact, and Javid almost pitied the man. Almost.
“I’m sorry you didn’t make your fortune,” Javid said, and he meant it. “But I think perhaps the Holy Father was watching over me to bring you here.” His heart beat hard. “For I fear what might have happened to me otherwise.”
Katsu nodded. “So you are a woman,” he said slowly.
“I was born a girl, yes. But I always felt a mistake had been made. I had nothing in common with my sisters. And my dream was to fly the wind ships. They won’t take women.”
“And you chose to live as a man.”
“Yes. I was blessed with understanding parents as well. They helped me pass. We changed my name from Yasmin to Javid.”
The thief looked him over. “You pass well, Javid. I wouldn’t guess.”
“Thanks.” His cheeks reddened a little. “Will Aknos tell the guards?”
Katsu gave a thin smile. “I’ll handle Aknos. He is stupid and vicious but he also knows that unfortunate accidents occur in the dungeons all the time. The guards wouldn’t much care if he were to be found drowned in that piss bucket over there.”
Javid glanced at the thief, gratitude warring with suspicion. “Why are you helping me?”
Katsu gave that tiny shrug again. “I don’t know. Because you are the first person in months to offer intelligent conversation. And I do not care for Aknos and his ilk.” He paused. “I’ve met others like you. Men who live as women, and the reverse. It is not so unusual.”
“Really? I thought I was the only one.”
Katsu smiled again, but this time it seemed genuine. “The world is a big place, my friend. And life is too short to live as others would have us be.”
Javid felt a lump in his throat and looked away. When he turned back, the thief had closed his eyes. Soon, his chest rose and fell in a gentle rhythm. But Javid stayed awake long into the night, wishing he could have met Katsu under different circumstances.
6
The Stork’s Nest
Stew bubbled over a small fire in Kallisto’s kitchen, giving off a tantalizing aroma of meat and spices. Nazafareen’s stomach rumbled in response, but she hardly noticed. She couldn’t stop thinking about the trial of Javid and Herodotus, now ten short days away. The punishment for witchcraft was death—and not just any death. A screaming death locked in the brazen bull. Her stomach twisted. Suddenly, the meaty smell of the stew revolted her.
She and Charis had spent the day picking grapes in the vineyard. Although the farm lay at the eastern edge of Solis where the sun hovered just above the horizon, it still blazed fiercely. They both wore the wide
-brimmed straw hats that hung on pegs by the door, but she’d neglected to cover her arms. Nazafareen poked her reddened skin and winced. Who knew the sun could actually burn?
“You must wear long sleeves next time,” Kallisto said, casting a reproachful glance at Charis, who looked abashed.
“It’s all right,” Nazafareen said. She glanced at the door, resisting the urge to get up and look out the window again. “Do you think something happened? They should be back by now—”
As if in answer, wagon wheels clattered to a stop outside and other Maenads burst rowdily into the kitchen, all talking at once. Kallisto held up her hands.
“Peace, parthenoi.” She smiled. “We shall hear your news over supper. Go wash up. Charis, you set the table.”
Nazafareen helped ladle out bowls of stew and within a few minutes, they were all gathered around. Rhea sat perfectly erect, in contrast to Megaera, who slumped half out of her chair with her usual scowl. Plump Cyrene gave Nazafareen a friendly wink. The fair twins, Alcippe and Adeia, eyed the cups of wine but restrained themselves until Kallisto said a prayer of thanks to Dionysius.
Kallisto turned to the twins. “Now, Adeia, what did you find at the temple of the sun god?”
“There are many soldiers—far more than usual,” she said glumly.
“At least thirty,” Alcippe added. “Stationed all around the perimeter of the Acropolis, and more at the bottom.”
Though they were near mirror images, the first twin had a discolored front tooth and a habit of covering her mouth when she spoke. They were both very young, Nazafareen realized, barely into the first blush of womanhood.
Kallisto took this news in stride as if she’d expected it. “Do you know where they’re keeping Herodotus?”
“We’re not sure,” Adeia said. “But six Shields of Apollo guarded a building that looked like it housed animals. He could be in there.”
