by Amy Raby
Amalia’s brow wrinkled. “Why will you be dead before then?”
She fetched the tablet that Zash had given her yesterday in the banana fields, and handed it to Amalia. “Read this.”
Amalia’s lips moved as she read. When she reached the bottom of the tablet, she began to laugh.
Taya snatched the tablet out of her hand. “There’s nothing funny in there.”
“But it’s a lie,” said Amalia. “There’s no such thing as a three-day poison.”
“I was very sick last night,” said Taya.
“And how do you feel this morning?”
“Better,” Taya admitted. “I think it comes and goes.”
“You were sick last night because he drugged you with shydra. That’s his favorite drug; it’s fast-acting and it makes people unconscious. After it wears off, you throw up for a while. He used it on me many times before I escaped him.”
Taya hardly dared hope this could be true. “You don’t know for certain there’s no three-day poison.”
“Yes, I do,” said Amalia. “Zash made it up to scare you. He does that.”
Taya wanted very much to believe her, and she had to admit the idea of a poison that took three days to work seemed implausible. But what did she know? She’d spent her entire life on a farm and in a Coalition temple. “There’s another problem. I can’t walk into Bodhan’s house and demand he forgive the debts.”
“You’re Coalition,” said Amalia. “Of course you can.”
“I can’t,” said Taya. “My authority as a Coalition representative is limited to a few very specific areas. Remember the Accords of Let? Your ruling caste has dominion over the cities and their people, while the Coalition holds a monopoly on magic and all laws relating to magic. We have no authority whatsoever over nonmagical crimes.”
“All you have to do is walk in there and threaten to burn him.”
Taya shook her head. “I’d be breaking the law myself.”
“You’ve broken it before.”
She hadn’t, but she couldn’t tell Amalia that. “No one can prove that my partner and I healed any banana plants, but if I march into Bodhan’s house and threaten him with magic, the Coalition will hear about it. They’ll punish me, and once I’m gone, Bodhan and the magistrate will just reinstate the loans.”
Amalia winced. “There must be a way.”
“I’ll do what I can for you,” said Taya. “But first you’ve got to help me get my partner out.”
A muscle bulged along Amalia’s jawline. “Not until you do as I asked.”
“Look, I just explained—”
“So don’t do it the way I suggested,” said Amalia. “Find another way.”
Taya clenched her fists in her lap. What other way? She could not use force, and she could not apply legal pressure on Bodhan, because that was the magistrate’s bailiwick. As a Coalition representative, she could only enforce crimes related to magic.
Had Bodhan committed any sort of crime related to magic? He didn’t possess any magic, so that seemed unlikely.
Did it count that he had blamed his daughter’s disappearance on an illegally summoned flood? Taya considered. That was a possibility. “Who reported to the authorities that Narat was killed by a magically-raised flood? Was it Bodhan?”
“I think so,” said Amalia.
“He must have just made that story up. If his daughter was still alive and had simply run away, surely he knew about that. So why did he lie? What did it gain him to blame her disappearance on a jackal?”
“Well, he and the magistrate were allies,” said Amalia. “The magistrate needed the Coalition to come out here and find me. Two deaths by a jackal would be more likely to bring a team of investigators than just one.”
“That could be it,” said Taya. “He made a false accusation in order to draw out the Coalition. By Coalition law, that is a crime.” Not as serious as the ones Amalia had committed, but perhaps enough that she could frighten the man. “We need evidence.”
“Evidence of what?” asked Amalia.
“That his daughter lives and he lied about her death. I think I know where to get it.” She would have to hurry. She and Mandir were running out of time. “After I get the evidence and confront Bodhan, will you help me rescue Mandir?”
“Yes,” said Amalia.
Taya reached forward, and they touched fingers to consummate the deal.
Chapter 37: Mohenjo Temple, Six Years Ago
Mandir leaned on the rail of the Cage to take some weight off his aching legs. The accused were not allowed to sit, and he’d been shifting his weight from one leg to the other for hours now as witness after witness had been called onto the platform to deliver testimony. Despite its name, the Cage was not a prison, but a square enclosed by four railings. Here the accused stood while the Coalition elders heard their case and decided their fates.
Testimony had concluded some time ago. The elders had left the room to confer among themselves and make a decision that would determine the direction of the rest of Mandir’s life. For now, the platform was empty, and Mandir could do nothing but wait.
Three other boys kept him company in the Cage, all of them his co-conspirators, but Mandir stood apart from them. Once, they had been friends, but since the fire maze, they’d had a falling-out. He was on his own now, and so were they.
Somewhere behind him, in the audience, sat Taya, the girl he’d tormented and nearly killed in the fire maze. Throughout the hearing, he’d been conscious of her gaze burning into his back. He knew she hoped for a death sentence.
Footsteps jostled him from his thoughts. He looked up to see the elders filing back onto the platform. This was it; he was about to learn his fate. He dragged his sweating palms from the railing and stood tall, swallowing his nerves.
The elders, barefoot and clad in the robes of illitu, moved silently to their places. Each man stood before a pillar representing one of the Mothers. The pillar on the left, representing Agu, held a clay goblet filled with the purest water. The pillar on the right held a flowering jasmine, the symbol of Lalan. And the middle pillar held a flaming torch.
How calm the elders looked as they took up their positions. Mandir tried to still his trembling.
“We have reached our decision,” said the elder who stood before the torch of Isatis.
Mandir shut his eyes. Not death or exile, he prayed.
“Initiates Cole, Mandir, Talin, and Lilit,” spoke the elder, “you are accused of drugging a fellow initiate with kimat and shydra and placing her in a construction of your devising—a ‘fire maze’ in which you intended to torment and frighten her. We find this act to be vicious and contemptible. Because of your ineptitude with magic and your recklessness, this fire maze malfunctioned, and the initiate suffered from burns and smoke inhalation. Initiates: do you acknowledge that you have committed an atrocity against the Mothers and their children?”
“Yes, elder,” said Mandir immediately. The other boys chorused agreement.
“It is the decision of this Council,” said the elder, “that Cole, Talin, and Lilit shall drink sufficient kimat to annihilate their magic and be permanently dismissed from the Coalition.”
One of the boys beside Mandir collapsed onto the floor and began to weep. So it was exile, after all. But Mandir’s name had not yet been mentioned. He waited.
“Mandir isu Sarrum,” said the elder.
Mandir raised his eyes.
“Because of extenuating circumstances, you will not be banished from the Coalition. Instead, you will serve a Year of Penance as punishment for your part in this atrocity.”
Someone in the back of the room gasped.
Mandir closed his eyes in relief. His knees trembled. He stood silently, knowing that the audience would not be aware of the extenuating circumstances. He had been sworn to secrecy on that subject. They probably believed he’d been granted this mercy because of the influence of his royal father.
“That is all,” said the elder. He and his fellow
s filed out of the room.
Someone punched Mandir in the arm. He looked to see who it was.
“Mother-violator,” hissed Cole.
Mandir turned away.
As the people in the audience left their seats, he twisted his neck for one last look at Taya. After today, he would never see her again. He would serve his penance and then request a transfer to another temple. He could not control himself around her. The only solution he could think of was to stay away from her.
She had risen from her chair and was staring at him, shaking with rage. For him to receive only a Year of Penance had to infuriate her. He met her eyes, trying without words to tell her, I’m sorry. I went too far. It won’t happen again.
But he knew she would never forgive him.
Chapter 38: Hrappa
Mandir, curled up for warmth and dozing fitfully against the wall, snapped instantly awake. His half-dream, half-memory of his sentencing at Mohenjo Temple feathered away into the darkness. He heard footsteps, and whoever approached him was trying to be stealthy.
Mandir had come to understand that Zash, despite his brazen crimes, was a coward. Even with Mandir in chains, Zash would not come near his prisoner to refresh his dose of kimat. Instead he threw darts from a distance.
Mandir lay still, letting the banana farmer enjoy the illusion that his prisoner was asleep and harmless. He’d been in this hole much longer than Zash had, and his eyes were better adjusted to the darkness. Come closer, he urged silently. Let me wring your scrawny neck.
Zash stopped advancing about six feet outside of Mandir’s reach and, with a quick motion of his arm, threw the dart.
Mandir flung up his arm and knocked the dart away. It pinged off the stone wall into the dirt, and he dived for it. His fingers closed around the dart, and he snatched it up. “Missed,” he taunted, brandishing the weapon.
Zash had come without a torch this time, perhaps hoping to sneak up on Mandir in the dark. There was just a sliver of light from a distant entrance to the tunnel, enough that Mandir could see Zash’s silhouette and sense his baleful stare.
“Perhaps I should throw it back at you,” said Mandir. “What do you want to bet my aim’s better than yours?”
No response.
“Are you out of darts?” said Mandir. “How unfortunate. I’ll bet that last kimat dose you gave me wears off pretty soon.”
He heard movement in the darkness and saw a spark. Zash was crouched in the dirt, trying to light a torch. A second spark appeared, and a third.
“I could light that for you,” said Mandir. “Soon as the kimat wears off.”
Light pierced the darkness, impossibly bright. Mandir half-shuttered his eyes so the torch wouldn’t blind him. Zash was still on the ground, working on something with his back to Mandir. Poisoning another dart, perhaps.
With a quick motion, Zash turned and flung a new dart.
Again Mandir knocked the missile out of the air. It landed in the dirt between the two of them. After a moment’s hesitation, both he and Zash launched themselves at it.
Zash pounced on it first, and Mandir pounced on Zash. He slammed into the man’s arm so hard he heard something give way, and Zash howled in pain. The manacles bit into Mandir’s wrists as he reached the full length of his chains, but he didn’t care. This was worth it.
Zash went limp beneath him.
“Not very smart, are you?” whispered Mandir into his ear.
“I don’t have the keys to your chains,” gasped Zash. “They’re at the house. If you want to get free, you’ll have to let me go—”
Mandir grabbed Zash by the hair and slammed his head into the ground. “You think that’s why I grabbed you, zebu-brain? To get some keys? I grabbed you because I want your last hours to be as painful as I can possibly make them.” He slammed Zash’s head into the ground again.
Chapter 39: Hrappa
Taya considered asking Rasik if she could borrow a second horse, but decided against it. Amalia was lightweight, and in a pinch Pepper could carry two riders.
“She’s beautiful,” gushed Amalia, when Rasik delivered the black mare to the front of the guesthouse. “May I pet her?”
“If you like,” said Taya.
The mare, always a glutton for attention, pressed her nose into the girl’s hands. Amalia hopped back with a startled, “Oh.” Recovering, she moved forward and touched the mare’s muzzle. Then she ran a hand down the sleek black neck. “If I join the Coalition, will I get a horse like this?”
Taya’s heart sank. Amalia was never going to be part of the Coalition. “Well—she was given to me when I became an ilittum.”
“Initiates don’t get horses?”
“They’ve no need for them,” said Taya. “Initiates stay at the Temple.”
“So I would get a horse after ten years of training, then?”
“We’d better get going,” said Taya, vaulting lightly onto the mare’s back and offering Amalia an arm up.
Amalia took her arm and raised her leg as if to mount, but then appeared stymied. She had no idea how to mount a horse.
Taya suppressed a sigh; she didn’t have time to teach this girl basic horsemanship. She steered the mare to a stone wall and directed Amalia to climb up from there. As Amalia wriggled her way onto Pepper’s back, she accidentally kicked the mare in the ribs. Pepper hunched her back in offense, and Taya hissed a warning at the mare, taking up the reins to keep her from jumping out from under the two of them.
Once Amalia was settled, Taya nudged the mare into a slow trot. Amalia gave a cry of surprise and started slipping off. Taya began to regret that she’d fetched the horse at all, and slowed Pepper to a walk.
“Sorry,” said Amalia, straightening herself. “I’ll get the hang of it.”
They headed into the artisan district, where Taya had no trouble finding Vella’s house. She could have closed her eyes and followed the aroma of baking bread.
“Flood and fire, that smells good,” said Amalia as they approached.
Taya slid off the mare and reached up to help Amalia down. The girl was underfed and weighed practically nothing. Taya had to keep reminding herself that Amalia was a jackal. She didn’t seem like a criminal at all; rather, she struck Taya as a vibrant but somewhat ignorant girl who’d had few opportunities and who longed, as so many girls did, for a better life. Ten years ago, Taya had been much like Amalia, giddy with the discovery of her Gift and the doors it would open for her. Could Taya have ended up in as much trouble as this girl was in now, if instead of her cooperative family she’d had Zash for a brother?
Taya dreaded what lay ahead, when she would have to hold Amalia accountable for her crimes. But she couldn’t afford to tell her the truth just yet; she’d frighten the girl away. She pulled the reins over Pepper’s head and tugged gently downward to ground tie her. Then she headed toward the bakery door.
Amalia hovered beside Pepper. “You’re just going to leave the horse here?”
“She won’t go anywhere,” said Taya. “She’s ground tied.”
“Oh,” said Amalia, sounding doubtful.
“She’s trained to stand still,” explained Taya. “Have you ever known a dog trained to stay put when you tell it to? It’s like that.”
Amalia’s eyes lingered on the mare. “Couldn’t she be stolen?”
“No one steals from the Coalition,” said Taya. Well, except for Zash, but he seemed to be an exception in many respects.
Vella, the baker woman, answered the door. She smiled at Amalia, whom she clearly recognized and liked, but her smile faded when she saw Taya in her Coalition green and silver. “Have you come to buy bread?” she asked nervously.
“Yes,” said Taya. “And to ask you some more questions.”
Vella’s face tightened, but she ushered them inside. Taya looked over the loaves drying on the shelf and bought two of the nut- and date-filled ones. She handed one of them to Amalia, who took a huge bite at once.
“I know about your son,” said Taya.
Vella’s eyes did not meet hers. “What do you know?”
“He ran away with Bodhan’s daughter Narat.”
Vella went to a lump of dough which sat on a floured board. She dipped her hands in the flour, brushed off the excess, and began to knead. “Narat is dead.”
“She’s not, and I think you’ve known that for a while,” said Taya. “Bodhan falsely reported that she had died in a jackal-induced flood.”
Vella’s eyes were on the dough. “If he did this thing, you should ask him about it, not me.”
Amalia choked on a piece of flatbread and pounded her chest. She took a moment to recover, then swallowed and spoke. “Vella, this Coalition woman is trying to help. I’m sure Bodhan said he’d destroy your business if you spoke a word about what happened, but if he lied about a magical crime, he broke Coalition law.”
Vella eyed Amalia. “The Coalition comes and goes, but Bodhan will always be here in Hrappa.”
“He’s harmed so many people,” said Amalia.
Vella said nothing, kneading the dough with unnecessary vigor.
“Perhaps I can offer you something for your assistance,” said Taya.
“I don’t know what you offer or what assistance you believe I can give you,” said Vella.
“If I can come up with evidence that Bodhan broke Coalition law, I can use that to bargain with him. I can forgive his Coalition crime in exchange for his forgiving all debts owed to him by the townsfolk of Hrappa.”
“You see?” put in Amalia. “She can help.”
“I am not one of those who owes Bodhan money,” said Vella. But her kneading of the bread slowed, and she looked thoughtful.
“Your son and Bodhan’s daughter—did they marry?” asked Taya.
Vella shrugged.
“It seems to me that if they did, Bodhan should properly acknowledge and dower his daughter. Don’t you think?”
“Bodhan will never do that,” said Vella.
