The Fire Seer

by Amy Raby

  “Not yet.”

  “So what if Zash is the jackal?”

  Mandir glared at her. “He’s not.”

  “No, listen.” Taya spoke rapidly, stepping forward so she could be heard over Amalia’s sobs. “We have to kill Zash anyway. Once he’s dead, no one will know he wasn’t magical.”

  “Half the town already knows Amalia was the jackal,” said Mandir. “The peasant farmers sheltered and protected her.”

  “If they sheltered her from Zash and Bodhan and the magistrate, they’ll shelter her from the Coalition. Why would they say anything to bring her harm? She’s a hero to them.”

  “They might say something—you never know—and Amalia is still magical,” said Mandir. “If we blame Zash for everything and execute him, we’ll still have a jackal at large—” He stopped as he realized what Taya was getting at.

  “Kimat,” said Taya.

  “Get the bottle from my guesthouse.” The half vial they’d recovered from Zash’s plantation wouldn’t be enough.

  Taya ran out the door into the courtyard.

  Amalia sniffled and wiped her eyes. “What are you two suggesting?”

  “We’ve found a way out,” said Mandir. “You won’t like it. But it’s better than the alternative.”

  Taya ran back in, clutching the ceramic vial. She showed it to Amalia. “This is kimat. If you drink the whole vial, it will destroy your magic.”

  Amalia recoiled. “Why would I do that?”

  “Do you want to live or not?” snapped Mandir.

  “Here’s what happened,” said Taya. “Listen carefully, because it’s the story you’ll need to know by heart and tell everyone if you want the Coalition to leave you alone. When Zash developed his magical Gift, he chose not to join the Coalition—”

  Amalia broke in. “But Zash has no magical Gift—”

  “Listen,” said Taya. “Yes, he did. That’s the story we’re telling. You threatened to report him, so he locked you up and declared you mad. You escaped and went into hiding. Later, Zash used his magic to murder Hunabi. He wrote the threatening letter to the magistrate in an attempt to have his loan from Bodhan forgiven. Then he burned your house, claiming you had been killed by the jackal, so that he could cover up evidence of his mistreatment of you and deflect suspicion. Later, when Mandir and I closed in on him, he became desperate and turned his magic on us.”

  Mandir frowned. He didn’t like it, but the story was reasonably sound. “We’ll have to get all the details straight before we write up the rest of our mission report.”

  Amalia sagged in his arms. “I don’t want to lose my magic,” she sobbed. “I want to join the Coalition.”

  Taya came and took her hand. “That’s not an option. But this option isn’t so terrible. You’re Zash’s heir, are you not? He has no other family, so when he dies, you’ll inherit a healthy banana plantation with no blight and no debt. You’re a good woman, and the farmers in this town regard you highly. When they learn that their loans have been forgiven, they’ll revere you even more. You may not have your magic any longer, but I think you’ll have a nice life nonetheless.”

  Amalia sniffled.

  “Wouldn’t you prefer that to a death sentence?” Taya added.

  Amalia struggled to her feet and fought to regain control of her arms. “Let go of me.”

  Mandir glanced at the firmly closed door and ascertained that if she ran, he and Taya could reach her before she got out. He released her.

  “Give me that,” said Amalia, reaching for the vial of kimat.

  Taya placed it in her hand.

  Amalia removed the stopper, and, with trembling hands, raised it to her lips. She drank it down, shaking it to make sure she got the last drops. Finally she handed the vial back to Taya. “It’s done.”

  Taya pulled her into a hug and held her as she cried.

  ∞

  Taya stared at the broken man lying in the dirt. The guards had carried Zash out of the Hall of Judgment and laid him in the street. Zash’s chest still rose and fell, but his breaths were shallow. He seemed barely to have survived the night. Taya pitied him, but only insofar as she detested human suffering of any kind. This man had killed his own parents, destroyed his sister’s hopes of joining the Coalition, and murdered an innocent farm woman. He had drugged Taya twice, abducted her, stolen from her, and probably had intended to rape her. This man deserved whatever fate the Coalition chose to deal out.

  Back in the strongroom, Mandir had administered the customary dose of kimat given to jackals, pinching Zash’s nose and forcing him to swallow. But it was fakery. Zash did not need kimat, and they didn’t have enough left to dose him with anyway. Instead, Mandir had given him Echo, which would dull his mind and numb his pain.

  “Time to get this over with,” said Mandir. He stepped forward.

  She followed him. “We’ll do it together.”

  He placed a hand on her arm to stay her and shook his head. “I’m the quradum and you’re the investigator. This is my job.”

  Taya swallowed. Once, she’d have thought Mandir would enjoy the role of Coalition enforcer, that he would take pleasure in killing the organization’s enemies. Now that she knew him better, she understood that he did not enjoy it at all; rather, he acted as a quradum because he could. He’d been surrounded by darkness all his life. What was a little more? He could wallow in darkness and survive it. Now she wondered what price he paid for it.

  A crowd of onlookers formed a ring around them.

  In a deep, authoritative voice, Mandir addressed them. “Townsfolk of Hrappa, we are agents of the Coalition, sent to investigate and prosecute magical crimes. Since the Accords of Let, all magic is restricted to approved Coalition use. This man, Zashkalim isu Ikkarum, used unlawful magic outside of the Coalition’s authority, operating as a jackal for selfish ends.”

  “No,” croaked Zash from the dirt. “Not me.”

  Mandir ignored him and continued. “When Zash’s sister observed his magic and realized he was using it illegally, she protested, and Zash responded by locking her up and telling everyone she’d gone mad. When she escaped, he covered for her loss by setting the house on fire and claiming she’d been murdered.

  “When his debts got out of control, Zash murdered the magistrate’s son and threatened to murder the other son if his debt was not forgiven in court. Then Zash compounded his crimes by murdering Jaina, an innocent farm girl who’d witnessed his murder of Hunabi. Later, in desperation, he summoned an illegal flood in an attempt to kill my partner, and he poisoned and kidnapped both of us.”

  Mandir stepped away from Zash. “Let this be a lesson to any who would flout Coalition law.” He gestured, and Zash erupted in flames.

  Some of the onlookers backed away and screamed, but Zash did not scream at all. He was half dead already, and the Echo had numbed him further. He simply burned, like a lifeless piece of meat.

  Great Mother, Taya prayed, I promised you the blood of the unjust. Today I fulfill that promise.

  The flames pulsed yellow in acknowledgment. Taya felt sick. She ran her eyes over the crowd. Some watched Mandir while others stared at Zash. Some looked disgusted, others horrified.

  Would this be her life as a Coalition investigator, burning people to death and terrifying townspeople?

  The flames were dying. Zash no longer resembled a human being, but a blackened shell. Taya swallowed and tasted ashes.

  Mandir took her arm. “Let’s go home.”

  ∞

  Taya’s head began to ache less than an hour later, and when the pain continued for the rest of the day she worried secretly that the three-day poison might be taking effect. Which maybe she deserved, after the things she’d done. She and Mandir spent the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon writing up new mission tablets. She dictated while Mandir did the writing. Rasik brought them lunch, but Taya wasn’t hungry.

  When they finished the tablet work, Taya decided she had enough loose ends to take care of that they
should wait until morning to leave Hrappa. The Coalition had sent Piru, the pack elephant, to bring back Hrappa’s tax payment, so she made arrangements for that with Kalbi, the acting magistrate, as his father was unconscious and near death. Then she spent time in the stable, rubbing the elephant’s ears and brushing Pepper until her coat shone. It was calming work, a healthy labor that took her mind off the morning’s horrors. She and Mandir had killed a man today, called bloodthirsty Isatis down upon him and watched while the Fire Mother ate him alive. Every time Taya closed her eyes, she saw his body in the dirt.

  She didn’t feel much better about destroying Amalia’s magic.

  She returned to her guesthouse after dark to find her dinner waiting for her. The smell of it turned her stomach.

  She ignored it and went to bed, but sleep eluded her. How could she do this, week after week, year after year? Leaving diseased plants unhealed because the farmers had no gold—and those were only plants. What if next time it was a sick animal or a sick person that she could easily heal but wasn’t allowed to because of the Coalition rules? That would be worse. She didn’t feel too guilty about executing Zash, since he truly was a murderer, but what about the Amalias of the world, which the Coalition demanded she exterminate?

  She found herself walking out the door and across the courtyard to Mandir’s house for reasons she did not fully understand and had no intention of analyzing. She hesitated before knocking—it was late enough that he might be asleep—but she decided she was desperate enough to wake him.

  “Yes?” came his muffled voice through the door.

  “It’s me.”

  “Come in.”

  She opened the door, but didn’t enter. She hovered in the doorway, uncertain now what she wanted from him or why she’d come. In the darkness, she could just make out his form on the bed.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked softly.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Can’t sleep?”

  “No.”

  “I wasn’t sleeping either,” said Mandir.

  There was a lump in her throat; she forced her words around it. “Today was a hard day.” Also, she could be dead by morning, if Zash had told the truth about the three-day poison. She found herself strangely resigned to that fate.

  “Would it help if you had company?” asked Mandir.

  Taya hesitated. It would help, but what exactly was he suggesting? She wanted his presence, but she didn’t want to sleep with him. Not in the sense of having sex.

  “Tell me what you want,” said Mandir.

  Taya took a couple of steps forward, letting the door close behind her. “Would it be too odd if I wanted...” She took a deep breath. “Could I just lie there in bed with you?”

  “Sleep with me?” asked Mandir.

  “Yes. Just sleep.”

  “You don’t want anything else to happen?”

  She swallowed. “No.”

  “Then it won’t. Stop hovering and get over here.”

  She headed toward him. There was a rustle of bedsheets as he scooted over and made room, raising the blanket to invite her in. She slipped under the covers, and his great arms captured her, pulling her close. She turned in his grip, placing her back against his chest and tucking her head under his chin. She sighed with relief, fully cocooned in blankets and Mandir.

  “Feel any better?” he murmured.

  She choked back a sob. “I don’t know. I don’t know about the Coalition. I thought I would love this job. Now I’m not so sure.”

  “Today was a hard day,” said Mandir. “They will not all be hard days.”

  “I don’t know if we even did the right thing. Killing Zash, destroying Amalia’s magic. And we’ve broken so many Coalition laws ourselves!”

  “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

  “It’s more than that.” Taya shivered. “I feel so grateful to the organization for what they’ve given me. But I’m not sure it’s right what they ask of us. What we do for them.”

  “To be honest, I’m not sure about that either.” He tightened his grip around her.

  Taya closed her eyes. Growing up on a farm in a large family, she’d never slept alone. She’d always piled into a communal bed with her sisters, and when they had guests over, she shared that bed with her brothers too. When frightened, she’d always had someone to nestle with. That had been one of the hardest adjustments for her to make when she’d arrived at Mohenjo, having to sleep alone all the time. Sure, she didn’t have people kicking her in the middle of the night, or snoring, or rolling over and hogging the blanket, but sleeping by oneself was lonely.

  “Do you think we did the right things today?” she asked.

  “I think we tried as hard as we could, and did the best things possible under the circumstances. That’s all anyone can ask.”

  “Do you think I’ll survive until morning?”

  He kissed her on the top of her head. “I have never known anyone who was more of a survivor than you.”

  Chapter 43: Hrappa

  When Taya woke and saw the daylight filtering in through the windows, her first thought was, I’m alive. She was still wrapped in Mandir’s arms, though they’d thrown off the blanket. She was vaguely aware that he’d been up once during the night—her half-dreaming mind had registered it—though for what reason, she did not know. At any rate, he was back now. She could feel his breathing as his powerful chest rose and fell against her back.

  Lying there, she felt exhilarated. She was alive! There was no three-day poison. The horrors of yesterday were fading, and she was beginning to perceive that despite the ugliness of having to execute Zash and destroy Amalia’s magic, she and Mandir had, on the whole, been successful in Hrappa. They’d been sent to solve a trio of murders, and they’d solved them. Their methods had been unconventional—in some cases illegal—but she would not have had it any other way.

  She and Mandir had cured Hrappa’s banana blight, freed its farmers from Bodhan’s crushing loans, and rid the community of the murderous Zash.

  Infused with a rush of new energy, she twisted in Mandir’s arms to face him. She tilted her head upward and kissed him on the lips. “Wake up, handsome.”

  Mandir’s eyes blinked open. “Was that for real? Or am I dreaming?”

  “It’s morning, and we’re alive!”

  “Of course we’re alive.” Mandir stretched luxuriously, like an enormous bronze panther. “Everyone knows there’s no such thing as a three-day poison.”

  “Be honest,” said Taya, her eyes roaming over the mouth-watering expanse of his body. “You had your doubts.”

  “Tiny doubts.” Mandir pressed his thumb and forefinger together.

  “Not so tiny.” She pulled his fingers apart.

  Mandir placed his other hand over Taya’s to make the space smaller again.

  Taya tried to pull his hand away, which turned into a wrestling match as she grabbed for his hand, and he dodged, holding it out of reach. Finally she jumped on him for better access, and they fought that way. She could tell he was only playing, using less than half his strength, until suddenly he turned the tables and flipped them over, pinning her beneath him.

  “What were you saying again?” asked Mandir, his breath warm on her face.

  “I don’t remember.” She was a little bit frightened, but she wanted him.

  Mandir lowered his great body onto hers and kissed her. Something throbbed in Taya’s nether regions—a feeling she rarely experienced except when she pleasured herself. She gasped, which excited Mandir. He nipped her on the lip and kissed her again. “Is this something you want?”

  She nodded.

  He raised himself enough to take off his nightshirt. “Are you sure?”

  She gaped at the sight of his well-muscled chest and abdomen as the shirt peeled away. “Yes. Do you think it will hurt?”

  “Why, is it your first time?”

  She nodded.

  “I don’t think so.” He kissed her forehead lightly. “But if i
t does, you can stop me.”

  Taya nodded, but as he unfastened his pants, she tensed.

  He paused to stroke her hair. “I’ll be gentle. If there’s anything you’re not enjoying, tell me, and I’ll stop.” He pulled his pants down, revealing his erection.

  Taya couldn’t help but stare. She’d never seen one before.

  Mandir didn’t seem to notice or care that she was staring; he was occupied with her nightshirt. He found the ends of it and tugged it upward, encouraging her to raise herself off the bed to release it. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath, and her breasts fell free. Mandir, sitting atop her, gazed at her reverently. “You are one fine-looking woman, banana girl.”

  “You’re not so bad yourself, banana man.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I suppose I asked for that.” Lowering himself on her, he kissed her again. One of his hands found her breast, cupped it, and stroked. His thumb circled her nipple, pressing hard. Taya’s nether regions throbbed, and her back arched. She moaned.

  When she couldn’t stand it any longer, and her body demanded more, Mandir seemed to sense it. He moved downward and captured her nipple with his tongue. He circled it with firm pressure, nipped lightly, and stroked her breast with his fingertips.

  “Great Mothers,” said Taya, arching her back again. She was wet; she could feel it, and Mandir’s erection was hot and hard between them. She wanted him inside her, needed him. “Now, Mandir.” She reached for him, wanting him to pull that wicked tongue off her, and satisfy the beautiful and terrible need within.

  “Not yet,” he said, taking her arm and pinning it beneath his body. “I’m going to make you wait.”

  “Mandir,” she gasped.

  “I waited ten years to have you in my bed,” he said. “Now that I’ve got you here, you can wait for me.”

  “Mandir,” she protested. He was ruthless with his tongue, pinning her arms as he pleasured her just enough to drive her into a frenzy, but not enough to satisfy her. She moaned, her body shifting in frustration and pleasure. She gasped as his tongue teased her sensitized nipple. “Mandir.”