by Amy Raby
“I’m sure you’ll want to eat outdoors on a day like today,” said Rasik.
Taya eyed Mandir. “Actually, I prefer to eat indoors.”
Mandir frowned.
Rasik shrugged. “If you enjoy sweltering.” He indicated the doorway to the house on the right. “Your home, sir. It’s identical to the lady’s. The other two are empty. Someone will bring dinner shortly.”
“Will the other two remain empty?” asked Mandir.
“As far as I know,” said Rasik.
“Inform me at once if anyone is to take up residence in them.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank you,” said Taya. “You’ve been most helpful.”
“Of course,” said Rasik. “Try not to set anyone on fire.” He turned and left through Taya’s house.
After one last, longing look at the breezy courtyard, Taya headed indoors.
“Where are you going?” called Mandir.
“Inside,” said Taya.
His footsteps sounded on the stone behind her. “We should eat together, in the courtyard. We have things to discuss.”
“On the contrary. We know nothing about the case so far.”
“Not about the case,” said Mandir. “Other things. It’s been five years.”
“There’s nothing I want to discuss with you.” Taya avoided eye contact and held her speed to a walk, knowing Mandir was the sort of predator who would respond to flight by giving chase. She reached the house just ahead of him, closed the door in his face, and slammed down the bar.
He tried to open the door, discovered he could not, and pounded on it. “Taya! Let me in! I’m your quradum!”
Taya’s heart beat wildly. To provoke Mandir was madness, but she had to establish some boundaries. Without limits, there was no telling what he’d do. “I’ll see you in the morning,” she called through the door.
The pounding stopped. She waited by the door, hardly daring to take a breath, until she caught a glimpse of movement through the window. Mandir was actually leaving. He crossed the courtyard to his own house, went inside it, and disappeared.
Taya breathed a sigh of relief. She went to her saddlebags to begin unpacking. As she searched through them for the most critical items, she kept vigil at the window to make sure Mandir didn’t come back. She was just pulling out her silk dress when she realized where he might have gone instead. She ran to the front door just in time to see it fly open with a bang.
Mandir stormed across the tiny house like an enraged bull. “Don’t you ever bar that door to me,” he said, lifting the bar from the courtyard door.
Taya clenched the silk dress in her hands. “Don’t you come barging into my house!”
“I am your quradum,” said Mandir. “As your assigned protector on this mission, I require free access to your person at all times.”
“Access to my person,” Taya repeated incredulously.
“At all times.”
“I trust I get to keep my clothes on?”
Mandir grinned. “Your mind goes some funny places, banana girl.”
Taya despised that nickname. She hadn’t even grown up on a banana farm; her family grew date trees. Mandir had never bothered to ask about her roots. He’d just made assumptions.
Mandir pointed to the dress in her hands. “Is that your silk?”
Taya glanced down. She’d nearly crushed the dress in her hands. “Yes.”
“Flood and fire! Have you no respect for fine fabric?” Mandir took it from her, gently shook it out, and laid it on her bed, straightening the wrinkles. “Also, your hair’s a mess.”
“Thanks for noticing,” said Taya. “So how was your Year of Penance?”
“Enlightening.” Mandir pulled out a chair and sat down, making himself at home.
Taya fumed. Clearly her old nemesis hadn’t changed a bit. “You never served it.”
He looked up in surprise. “Of course I did.”
“You couldn’t possibly have!” cried Taya. “If you had, you would have missed a year of your studies. You would have become a qualified ilittum not this year but the next. Yet here you sit in your green and silver.”
“When my Year was up, I spoke to the Triarch about my situation and was granted an accelerated schedule of classes that allowed me to finish on time.”
Taya frowned. That might actually be true. She didn’t doubt Mandir could learn the material faster than anyone else; he’d been the top student in nearly every class at Mohenjo Temple and mocked her while she’d struggled with the basics of reading and writing. But it wasn’t fair that he was always granted special dispensation. People of low caste made one mistake and they were out. Mandir made mistake after mistake and was granted what seemed to be an unlimited number of second chances, plus extra opportunities to catch up when he was behind. Caste wasn’t supposed to matter in the Coalition. But in some ways it did. “Funny how you always seem to bounce back,” said Taya. “Yet there were three Coalition boys who were expelled because of you.”
“Honestly, Taya,” said Mandir. “You don’t care a fig about those boys.”
“You’re right. I don’t care about them. I care that you weren’t expelled along with them.”
“How long are you going to carry that grudge?” asked Mandir.
“Forever,” said Taya. She had every reason to hold a grudge against someone who’d tried to kill her, and for as long as she deemed necessary. “Is this your first mission?”
“Yes.”
“Wonderful,” she muttered.
“Your first as well?” asked Mandir.
Taya nodded.
“Relax, we’ll do fine. You always worried too much.” His eyes dropped to the fire agate on her belt. “So you’re a fire seer now.”
“I know you thought I’d never amount to anything.”
“I never thought that,” said Mandir.
“Let’s put it another way,” said Taya. “You tried very hard to make sure I wouldn’t amount to anything.”
Mandir said nothing.
“You can get out of my house now,” said Taya.
Mandir didn’t move. “I’m not the boy I was five years ago.”
“I’m not the girl I was then either.”
“Just because you’re a fire seer doesn’t mean you can order me around.”
“I’m not ordering you around. I’m telling you to leave me alone when we’re not working on the mission,” said Taya. “And I can see you’re exactly the boy you were five years ago.”
“Trust me, there are a few differences.”
Taya looked him over. Indeed there were a few differences, not that she cared. She liked men who respected her, who didn’t see farmer-caste girls as worthless pieces of trash to be laughed at, fucked if they were pretty, and then tossed away. “I know what you are, Mandir. We’re not having dinner together, or speaking to each other at all other than what’s required for this mission. And after the mission, we’re parting ways forever. I’m letting the Coalition know I won’t be partnered with you again.”
Mandir leaned back in his chair. “That’s how it’s going to be?”
“That’s how it’s going to be.”
“Well, I’m taking dinner in the courtyard. It’s an oven in here.” He rose, walked to her front door and barred it, then headed for the courtyard door. “I’m barring the doors of the empty houses. Keep your courtyard door unbarred at all times. That’s an order from your quradum. There’s a jackal on the loose, and I need to be able to reach you. Understand?”
“If you’ll stay out,” said Taya grudgingly.
He held up his hand in a touching-fingers gesture. “Good night, banana girl.”
Chapter 3: Mohenjo Temple, Nine Years Ago
Taya was fourteen and terrified. Of the twenty or so initiates who sat with her, whispering among themselves on the floor of rushes, not one of them appeared to be of her caste. Seven of them were ruling caste; they bore the requisite facial tattoos. They had found one another and were comparing bloodlines. The
rest seemed all to be artisan caste. Taya had made the mistake of blurting out her full name to the first girl who had asked. That girl had turned away in contempt, and now no one would speak to her.
The door opened, and the room fell silent. A woman wearing the green and silver of an ilittum swept into the room and faced the crowd. “In ages past, not long after the Great Atrocity,” she began, “the Valley of the Lioness was home to many quail, yet the quail lived apart, each bird jealous of its own patch of ground.”
Taya blinked in surprise. She had been expecting a lecture, or instruction of some kind, not a story.
“A hunter came to the valley and began trapping the birds,” the ilittum continued. “One by one, he caught them with his net. The birds that survived knew that if they did not change their ways, they too would end up in the hunter’s net. So they held a meeting. They decided that from then on, they would stay together, all in one flock, to foil the hunter.
“The hunter came upon them as they were feeding thus, all together, and he thought, ‘Aha! I shall catch them in my net all at once, and feast tonight.’ So he threw his net over the flock. But the quail cried to one another, ‘Now! Together!’ They flew up and lifted the net with them. They lifted it right out of the hunter’s hands. They carried the net over the Lioness and dropped it in the water, where it was lost forever. And that is why, to this day, we never find quail alone.”
The ilittum spread her arms. “Welcome, children, to the Coalition. There was a time when our people were like the foolish quail. We lived apart and hoarded our Gifts, even the precious fragments of the mother tongue, which is the language of magic. In those days, we fought amongst ourselves, and our enemies picked us off until few of us remained. But like the quail, we have learned wisdom. We have joined together and combined our strength. As long as we remain united and loyal to one another, as long as we preserve the secret of the mother tongue, our kind shall endure forever.”
Taya’s heart beat faster. All her life, she’d heard the Coalition spoken of with scorn and hatred for their secrecy and stringent laws. She’d never before heard the reasons behind those laws. Of course the magical had to stick together.
“Now, to business,” said the ilittum. “All of you possess the Gift and have been granted the rank of initiate. Beginning tomorrow, you will commence your training. It will take nine years of instruction for you to learn the mother tongue and its proper use. When your training is complete, you will assume the rank of ilittum, and for the rest of your useful lifetime, you will serve the Coalition in whatever capacity suits your particular talents.”
An artisan-caste boy raised his hand. “Do we get paid?”
Some of the children tittered.
The ilittum smiled. “As a member of the Coalition, you will have the best of everything. You will be treated like a prince or a princess everywhere you go. You will receive all Coalition services for free. And when you are qualified and actively serving, you will be paid. Currently, the illitu receive six gold sticks per season.”
Some children gasped, and even the ruling-caste boys looked impressed. For Taya, the amount was incomprehensible. She could send much of it home to her family and still have more than she would ever need for herself.
“Let me remind you of a few important things,” said the ilittum. “You were all born into either the ruling caste, the artisan caste, or the farmer caste. But in the Coalition, there are no castes. When you join us, you will give up your old caste and just be Coalition.”
Taya sat up straighter. Since she was farmer caste, this was good news for her. She glanced slyly around the room and noted, with satisfaction, the alarmed looks on the faces of the ruling-caste children.
“In the Coalition, we are all equals. This goes for girls as well as boys, women as well as men. Some of you may be accustomed to households in which men are the leaders and women are the followers. But the Mothers grant their Gift in equal strength to both sexes; therefore, in the Coalition, men and women have equal rank. Should you join us, you must accept this.”
Taya supposed the boys might have some trouble with that. For her part, she liked the Coalition more and more.
“Now we come to the difficult part.” The ilittum assumed a stern look. “It is not only your privilege, as a recipient of the Gift, to join the Coalition, it is your duty. You must spend at least one week with us, learning our ways. If, at the end of that time, you desire to return to your family instead of joining us, you may do so. But first you will drink this.” The ilittum reached into her pocket and drew out a cloth bundle. Unwrapping it, she revealed a tiny ceramic vial. “This is kimat. Drink a sip, and your magic will be disabled for a day. Drink the whole bottle, and your magic will be destroyed forever. If you choose not to join the Coalition, you must drink kimat to destroy your magic. Who among you knows what a jackal is?”
Many hands went up.
“I’m glad most of you know. For the benefit of those who don’t, a jackal is someone magical who operates outside the authority of the Coalition,” said the ilittum. “If you were to leave here without taking kimat, you would be a jackal. The penalty for being a jackal is death by fire. You will join us or you will take kimat. Is that clear?”
“Yes, ilittum,” the class intoned.
Taya shrugged. Why did they even have to offer a choice? Her mind was made up. Who could possibly want to take kimat? Why would anyone not join the Coalition?
Chapter 4: Hrappa
Mandir tried not to stare as Taya vaulted, lithe as a dancer, onto the back of a delicate black mare. Every move she made drew his eye. Where was the self-control he’d worked so hard to develop? What had the Coalition been thinking, pairing him with her when they knew his history, and hers?
Rasik walked up, leading Mandir’s blood bay gelding. Mandir grunted acknowledgement and took the reins. Seizing a hank of mane, he vaulted up, not quite as gracefully as Taya. Mounting was trickier for men than for women; he had sensitive body parts to protect.
When Mandir was a child, his mother had owned a tomcat who’d spent hours staring up at the pigeons in the barn rafters. The cat had no way of reaching them, yet he couldn’t stop watching. Mandir felt like that cat as his gaze slid inexorably back to his partner. Flood and fire. Seeking a distraction, anything at all, he scanned the streets for danger, half hoping he would spot a threat, but there was nothing.
“What’s his name?” called Taya.
“Whose name?” said Mandir.
Her head dipped to the blood bay. “Your horse.”
“He doesn’t have one yet. I just got him.” After a moment, “Yours?”
“Pepper.” She stroked the mare’s silken neck, and the mare nodded contentedly.
Jealous of the damned horse, Mandir turned away. He’d been fifteen years old the day he first laid eyes on Taya, and he’d been obsessed with her from that day forward. If his fixation had been sweet and innocent, it might have been manageable. But it wasn’t. His desire had never been to hold Taya’s hand and write her love poems. What he’d wanted to do with her, to her, even at that tender age...well, he couldn’t blame her for being frightened of him. He’d tried everything to free himself of the obsession, from tormenting her and pushing her away to, later, reversing tactics and actively pursuing her in hopes that one torrid night might satisfy his twisted lust. The torrid night had never taken place—she’d refused him repeatedly—and nothing had tamed the beast within except to leave Mohenjo Temple entirely.
To see her now, after five years...bantu kasu annasi, it was hard. He couldn’t explain why Taya fascinated him. Her beauty was earthy rather than exotic, her dark hair, golden eyes, and sun-bronzed skin appealing but far from unique. Her curves were spectacular—that he would grant her—but he’d never known a woman more inept with clothes and hair. She couldn’t seem to get her hair into the headdress tightly enough, and it was always half falling out or lopsided. In fact, it was lopsided right now. His fingers twitched. He wanted to ride over and fix it, b
ut if he laid a hand on her she’d burn him crisp as a jerky strip.
Her flaws both irritated and mesmerized him. The little bits of hair sticking out of her headdress drove him crazy, yet they also fed his fantasies. It was all too easy, seeing the partial disarray, to imagine her hair out of the headdress entirely and spread out, fan-shaped, on his pillow. Furthermore, he suspected that women who insisted on their hair and clothing and makeup being perfect all the time were reluctant to engage in certain activities that involved getting messy. A woman like Taya, on the other hand...
Rasik mounted a brown gelding and circled in front of them. “Let’s get on with this. Where to? Hunabi’s murder site, or do you want to see the city first?”
His question seemed to be aimed at Mandir, so he answered, “Ask Taya. She’s in charge.”
Taya’s eyes met his with a look of surprise and gratitude. Then she turned to Rasik. “Where is the murder site? The magistrate said a cotton field. I take it that’s outside the city walls.”
“We don’t run irrigation canals into the city,” said Rasik.
“Take us to the murder site then, and you can show us the city along the way,” said Taya.
Mandir let Taya and Rasik set off first and took up a protective position, guarding their flanks. He’d watched Taya like this, from behind, far more than she knew. Indeed, he’d practically stalked her for years. He wasn’t proud of it. Even as a child, he’d been ashamed of it—not that his behavior was ugly but that his obsession targeted a girl so ridiculously beneath his station. When his ruling-caste friends had laughed at him, he’d gone out of his way to tease Taya and be cruel to her, trying to convince them he didn’t secretly love her. Now those friends had flown, scattered to the winds like dandelion seeds, and the only person whose opinion mattered to him, Taya herself, despised him.
If he could do it over again, he’d play out his life differently. But wishes were river mist; they had no substance and only obscured one’s vision. Still, he could apologize for what he’d done, and he ought to. He planned to, at the first opportunity. Taya might not respond well, but if he accomplished nothing else he would at least ease his conscience.
