by Kit Downes
Zal sidestepped one dagger, kicked a Shadow’s leg out from under him, parried another dagger and then brought his blade back to slash the wielder’s wrist. He was at first filled with raw, burning fury. His home had been invaded and his father’s carpets destroyed. He would make them suffer for it all. But his training was paying off. He was controlling his anger and fighting with skill and precision. His enemies were falling back, becoming more cautious as they saw his real talent. A couple of them were even becoming afraid! Zal was starting to enjoy himself. This was what he’d been up practising for every morning since he was eight. This was what the Citadel Guard was really about. This would look good when it was written on his application form.
Then a dagger passed close to his face and, with a jolt, Zal recognized it. It was a Burying Blade – all the daggers were, he realized. When Burying Blades were forged, very dark, very evil magic was poured into the metal. They were never, ever used to practise with. They were weapons that could only be used once. When they were thrust into something they would bury themselves, digging their blade in up to the hilt, sometimes further. Once in, they could never be removed. Eventually, inevitably, they killed – but caused constant, indescribable pain for the victim, who would have to live out their last few days with the dagger lodged in their flesh.
With a new concern for his own, and Zara’s, safety, Zal concentrated on parrying and attacking his enemy’s knife hands. But grim pleasure still rode through him as he fought. Sounds of movement and the voices of Augur and Arna came from upstairs.
Suddenly Shar, who had been dancing around trying to shake off Rip, collided with Dari. As the two of them toppled to the floor, Dari dropped his knife. There was a drilling, creaking sound and a jet of fine sawdust flew up into the air as it buried itself up to the hilt in the floorboards. At the same moment Zara hit Haragan with a low-power spell and sent him staggering. As he tripped over the dagger hilt and fell backwards, a bolt shot from his failing hand and ignited the oil on the pile of tools and carpet materials. A column of fire roared up in the middle of the room. Shar and Dari rolled out of the way and Rip rushed behind Zal and Zara, who were stumbling back from the wave of heat, half blinded by the sudden light in the dark room.
“Let’s go!” Haragan yelled. Ducking round the fire and back through the house, the Shadow Society members disappeared out into the night.
Guided by Rip’s anxious barking, Zal and Zara made it back to the door by the stairs just as Augur and Arna appeared and saw the blaze. As the two fathers yelled and screamed, Zara summoned her magic. The smoke that was filling the room suddenly changed into a fluffy grey cloud. Rain poured down from it, extinguishing the flames and drumming on the floorboards. Lightning flashed a few times and then dissipated, leaving the workroom filled with nothing but wet ashes and steam.
Everyone began to breathe again as the air cooled.
“What on earth has been going on?” said Augur.
Yellow
It was the next morning. Augur, Arna and Zara, who had taken the day off school, were standing in the ruined shopfront, telling the story to Captain Burs of the Caliph’s Citadel Guard. Everything had been blackened by the flames and then drenched by Zara’s rainstorm. The shop was now damp and chilly and the cold air smelt of charcoal.
“And you’re certain they were members of the Shadow Society?” said Captain Burs.
“For the third time, yes,” said Zara, but Arna waved her to silence.
“Yes, Captain,” said Augur. “She and my son saw them at very close quarters.”
“And I recognized Haragan,” said Zara. “Even with his mask. I know it was him.”
“I see,” said the captain. “But you have no evidence at all?”
“No,” said Augur, anger slipping into his usually calm voice. “Once the fire was out, there didn’t seem to be much else we could do until morning, so we all went back to bed. That was a mistake. We didn’t realize that they’d used oil from my own lamps to start the fire…”
“Which is why it looks like it was started by accident?” said Burs.
“Yes. And at some time in the night they must have come back and taken the floorboard with the dagger in it.”
“And pulled up the ones on either side to make it look like it had been burned up,” Burs added.
“Yes.”
“Look, we are not making this up!” Zara said. “It happened! It was the Shadow Society…”
“Zara!”
“Miss Aura, I believe you,” said Captain Burs. “If the fire had burned long and hot enough to consume three floorboards, there should be a lot more damage than there is. But that isn’t enough. I need more evidence than that before I can even go near the Shadow Society. But I do believe you. This is just the kind of dirty trick they would sink to if they wanted to win the Great Race. They’ve done it to me before.”
“To you?” said Augur.
“Several times I’ve come close to being able to arrest Shadow Society members,” said Burs. “But each time, the evidence has vanished at the crucial moment and I’ve ended up being humiliated in court. I’ve lost three of their headscarves, numerous weapons, a whole file of incriminating documents and a live zebra. Each item could have sent a Shadow to prison, but they were too quick.”
“But I know it was Haragan!” Zara cried. “Even though he was dressed as a bird. Get someone to put a truth spell on me and you’ll see.”
“Even that won’t help, Miss Aura,” said Burs. “Truth spells are too easily discredited in court. I’ll tell you what will happen if I do approach them – I know from long experience. I’ll tell the leader his men are suspected of burglary and arson. He’ll ask to see what evidence I’ve got. When I have nothing, he’ll write immediately to the Caliph, claiming that I am unfairly persecuting the Society for no other reason than that I think the Cosmos Vulture is a false god. The Caliph will then summon me and ask for an explanation. He will listen to my theories, but he’ll also ask to see evidence. When I have nothing, he’ll order me to back down to avoid offending the Society any further.”
“So there’s nothing you can do?” said Zara.
“Unless you can find something that proves they were here, then no,” said Burs. “But I will add this incident to my file on them. If it gets big enough, the Caliph might give me permission for a full investigation of the Society without evidence. But I’m afraid it won’t happen soon.”
At that moment, a carrier pigeon fluttered into the shop and landed on Burs’ shoulder. It carried a message summoning him to another case. He apologized again and left.
“Curse the Shadow Society!” said Arna. “They’re like venomous snakes in Azamed’s garden. If you step on one, even by accident, it bites you. Then all of its friends crawl out of the thistles to bite as well. And none of your friends can help because you’re surrounded by biting snakes. Curse them all!”
Augur looked around his ruined shop.
“Zal was right,” he said. “We do make the race far too important if this is how far people are prepared to go to win.”
“Now, don’t lose heart, friend,” said Arna. “There is always next year.”
“I’m afraid there may not be,” Augur said.
“What? Oh, come now. Even the Shadows can’t prevent the changing of the seasons. At least I hope not.”
“No,” said Augur, “that’s not what I meant. I’ve only got myself to blame. I spent far more money than I should have on the materials for the racing carpet. Even if we didn’t win, we were guaranteed second or third place with it. That would have brought in much business for the shop, and I was sure I’d remake the money fast. But now I can’t enter the race. I have no carpets to sell, and no materials to make them, and no money to buy new materials. I’m ruined.”
“Holy Stork!” said Arna. “I had no idea.”
“Of course you didn’t. It is all my own fault.”
“But you must have some savings…?”
“I do. Just about enoug
h to feed Zal and myself for a few months. But not enough to start the business going again.”
“Oh dear,” said Arna. “Well, let’s not panic. If you aren’t going to starve right now, that gives us some time. We’ll come up with something.”
“We need to get back in the race,” said Zara.
Both men looked at her, wide-eyed.
“The prize money,” she said. “Ten thousand gold pieces. It’ll be more than enough to—”
“Zara, the race is off for us,” said her father.
“OFF?” Zara looked at them in disbelief. “We’re just going to let them get away with it? They do all this, and we’re just going to let them win?”
“Think straight!” Arna said. “If we weave a new carpet, they’ll just come back to destroy it again. And Stork knows how much more damage they can do.”
“I thanked the Celestial Stork this morning that the house is still standing,” said Augur. “I won’t do anything that could provoke the Shadows further. I can’t lose anything else. No, we are not weaving a new carpet.”
“I’m sorry, Zara,” Arna said, “but the Shadow Society has won.”
Zara glared at them both with pure fury. There was a moment of silence.
“Well, you two can give up,” she said. “But we’re going to do something.”
She marched out of the room and stomped up the stairs.
“We?” said Arna.
In a dark room in a secret part of Azamed, a meeting was taking place. Haragan stood to attention. Shar and Dari stood behind him. Before them, the Leader of the Shadow Society reclined on a large cushion. His face was also hidden in a scarf.
Haragan was not thrilled that the master had summoned them. The mission was over. They’d succeeded. He had been planning a nice relaxing day of racing practice, and instead he had to dance on ceremony. Also, anyone who went near the master – other than his bodyguards – was searched for weapons. The two female bodyguards (the only women allowed in the Shadow Society, a role they had inherited from their mothers) had found all of Haragan’s, even his secret ones, leaving him feeling naked and nervous. And he did not like the current leader. In the early days of the Society, Salladan Shadow had picked his greatest pupil to replace him, his greatest pupil had picked his greatest pupil, and so on. According to the Society’s code, a member should be prepared to lay down his life for his leader. But Haragan would have had difficulty doing that for the man who had sent him in there.
“So,” said the Leader, who liked to think he reminded his underlings of a sleepy tiger: relaxed, but still very dangerous. “The Thesas discovered you in the act, did they?”
“It was unfortunate, Master,” said Haragan, who thought of the Leader as a lazy sloucher who was not half as clever as he thought he was. “I hadn’t counted on the dog being awake so late at night.”
Before they’d been shown in, Haragan had threatened Shar and Dari with dire consequences at the merest mention of the chair.
“Hmmph,” said the Leader. “Too few of the lesser animals respect the glorious Cosmos Vulture’s desire for them to sleep when his wings cover the sun.”
“But it was a tiny setback,” Haragan added. “We’d already completed the two biggest parts of the plan when they arrived.”
“You destroyed their racing carpet and all their materials?” The Leader played with the tassel on the corner of a cushion with his gloved fingers. Haragan could not tell if it was from boredom or a nervous twitch.
“We destroyed all their carpets, Master. They won’t be competing in the race.”
“Good … good,” said the Leader. “And how is our racing carpet progressing?”
Haragan also did not like how the Leader had the audience chamber decorated. Gold and jewelled trinkets, worth whole fortunes, glistened and sparkled from every surface. It was not a statement of wealth, but a test. While the Shadows were often thieves, they stole with discipline. They resisted theft for personal greed or vanity and only stole when the whole Society could benefit from it and when the glory of the Cosmos Vulture demanded it. They had to prove this by ignoring the Leader’s collection, showing it was not a temptation. It was a silly, tedious test in Haragan’s eyes. The punishment for theft from the Society was enough on its own: the cutting off of the fingers you had used.
“It is finished,” answered Haragan. He was irked that the Leader could call it “our” when he had contributed nothing to its weaving. “I added the magic when we returned. We are ready to race.”
“Hmm,” said the Leader. “But Zara Aura recognized you?”
“No, Master,” said Haragan, who was prepared for this. “She merely assumed it was me.”
“But she assumed correctly?”
“Yes, but it was still a guess.”
A silence followed, and Haragan realized he had just contradicted the Leader. A distant corner of his mind began to weigh up the merits of each of his fingers, choosing which could be offered to the knife.
“Hmm,” said the Leader again. “I would have expected you, Haragan, to be the last person to underestimate her. Considering your history.”
“Yes, Master.” Haragan looked at the floor.
“Perhaps this is a message,” the Leader said. “Perhaps the glorious Cosmos Vulture wishes you to spend another day in the Dark Room. To refresh your memory.”
A tremor ran through Haragan from head to toe. The mere name of there refreshed his memory. Pictures flashed across his eyes. Screams, shrieks and terrible moans echoed in his ears. His hands ached for his weapons, then to clench into fists, but he kept them still at his side.
“Perhaps, Master.” He let not one hint of his feelings show. Even behind the mask, behind the expressionless eyes, he could read his Leader’s disappointment.
“But as you completed the mission, and there is nothing either family can do about it, I suppose there is not much point.”
“No, Master.”
“Carry on, Haragan. All glory to the Cosmos Vulture.”
“Thank you, Master. Eternal glory to the Cosmos Vulture.”
“Dismissed. All power, splendour and grandeur to the Cosmos Vulture for ever!”
The three young Shadows bowed and walked backwards out of the room. Haragan would normally have remembered not to bother trying to outdo the Leader in praising the Cosmos Vulture. But he was too busy fuming.
“That seemed OK,” said Dari once they were in the corridor.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Haragan. “He’s nowhere near satisfied. Come on.”
He led them briskly down the corridor.
“Where are we going?” Shar asked, jogging to keep up.
“Back to the Thesas’. To double-check there are no clues left.”
Zara found Zal in his bedroom, pulling on his armour. It was made of light-brown leather and was covered in scratches from fencing competitions. Zal was fumbling with the straps and buckles as he tried to do them up too fast, hissing curses under his breath.
“Zal, what are you doing?”
“I’m going to get them,” he said, not looking up.
“Get them?”
“I am going to find those filthy camelpats and cut them into more pieces than our carpet.”
Zara started at his ferocity. “You’re declaring a vendetta against the Shadow Society?”
“Yes,” he said. He finished with the last strap and pushed his sheathed sword through his belt. “I’m going to hunt down every single stinking one of them and make them pay for last night!”
He pushed Zara aside and strode down the stairs. Rip padded along beside him, growling in anticipation. Zara followed and grabbed his arm.
“This isn’t a good idea. In fact, it’s a stupid idea.”
“Oh, and do you have a better one?” Zal twisted free and continued through the house. “Our wise fathers do. Give up. Sit back and let them do this to us. Over my dead body!”
“If you do this, the race will happen over your dead body,” said Zara, who had
heard the rumours of what befell those who offended the Shadow Society. “You’ll be in some shallow grave out in the sands!”
“I’m not trying to stop them being in the stupid race. I don’t care about the race!” Zal shouted. “Though now you mention it, I’ll wreck their racing carpet while I’m at it. They invaded my home and nearly destroyed it. It’s a matter of honour!”
“Zal! They’ll kill you.” Zara grabbed him again as he walked down the steps into the garden and towards the back gate.
“They can try!”
“Zal! The Shadows have hundreds of men. You can’t take them all on single-handed!”
“I’m going—”
Zara pushed him into the pond.
It was much deeper than either of them had realized, full of weeds and slime and very cold. Zal plunged in feet first and vanished under the water. He erupted, spluttering, a second later, drenched to the skin. He looked at Zara in disbelief. There was a moment’s pause as they glared at one another.
“What did you do that for?” Zal shouted.
“To cool you down,” said Zara, offering him her hand. “Come on.”
Zal tried twice to haul himself out, but slipped back each time. Scowling, he took her hand. Zara dug in her heels and pulled him, splashing and dripping, out onto the grass.
“Now,” said Zara, “you are not going to war with the Shadows.”
“You’re wrong,” said Zal. “I still am – and getting me wet is not going to stop me!”
He turned and began to walk away. Zara rolled her eyes and then snapped her fingers. The ground suddenly came alive. It rippled upwards in small thick waves of grass and soil, each a foot high, which broke over Zal’s feet, burying them.
“Hey!” Zal waved his arms for balance, toppled forward and landed in press-up position.
