It didn’t seem real. She simply seemed unable to fully comprehend that tomorrow she would be tied to that pole, smoke filling her lungs, heat assaulting her, flames licking her body—
Unbidden, her mind went back to the time when she had just arrived at the House, when she, Yeshi and Tiah had gone to the market and the kuli-cursed man had approached them. She remembered the rush to gather wood for the fire, how Yeshi had been willing to pay for it in order that the man burn quickly. Then, Yeshi had been acting to protect her; now, the great lady of the House of Four Waters was doing all she could to condemn Kevla. They were taking their time, in order that a huge crowd would have time to assemble. Kevla thought of the man, rushing at her. Had that beggar truly been cursed by demons, or was he as innocent of taint as she? She smelled again the stench of burning flesh and suddenly her stomach heaved.
Kevla turned away from the window and covered her mouth, willing herself not to be sick. She crawled to a corner of the room and sat there, drifting into an uneasy slumber as night came. For the first time since she began to bleed from her sulim, she did not dream.
She was startled awake by the sound of the door opening. Halid stood in the doorway, his massive frame almost filling it completely. He sneered, and for a moment she felt hatred blaze inside her. He entered, followed by three other men. Kevla extended her hands for them to tie. Halid’s gaze flickered from her chafed wrists to the bits of rope to the old scythe. The other men seemed surprised at her calmness, but Halid just looked irritated.
“Come, kuli, your death awaits you.”
“I do not fear death,” Kevla lied. Don’t show your fear, Kevla. Don’t give this dog anything to hold over you.
“You’ll be begging for it by the time the fire has burned away your feet,” Halid said. Kevla’s stomach clenched, but she forced her face to reveal nothing.
The sun was bright and Kevla squinted against the glare. Halid prodded her with the tip of his sword and she stumbled on the steps, catching her balance awkwardly.
A huge crowd had assembled to watch her execution. She guessed there were well over a hundred, perhaps double that. There had been time for the news to spread, and clearly as many as could had come to watch the kuli burn. Such executions served as warnings to the people, to prompt them to honor the ways of their traditions, to never stray from the path.
Again, Halid prodded her, and she walked slowly toward the pyre. She climbed up the short ladder to the platform. It was tricky, as it was difficult to use her hands. She stumbled more than once and would have fallen had not one of the guards caught her. He seemed startled at his instinctive reaction; no doubt he suddenly remembered that she was a kuli and merely touching her could be dangerous. She gave him a quick smile, and saw emotions warring on his face.
At last, she stood atop the platform. Halid had come up behind her and was now tying her to the pole. He cinched the ropes unnecessarily tight, and as he bent over her to check the knots, she whispered, “I know about you and Yeshi. You won’t get away with it.”
He looked at her and laughed. “Brave words, but empty,” he said. “Jashemi is gone and you will be dead soon.”
“If I’m a kuli,” she challenged, “how do you know I won’t destroy all of you? How do you know I won’t escape?”
He grinned, showing white teeth. “You’re not a kuli,” he said. “I don’t know what you are, but you’re not that. A kuli would never have let itself get caught in such a foolish manner.” He pulled the last rope so tight that the air went out of her in a whoosh, knotted it, and left without another word.
Kevla searched the crowd for Tahmu, thinking even now that somehow she could warn him and that he might believe her. Finally she saw him. He was dressed in white, his arms folded across his chest, regarding her. He was too far away for her to make out the expression on his face, but she didn’t need to. The position of his body told her enough. Any pleas she might have made died in her throat. Tahmu-kha-Rakyn had made his decision, and in ordering her death, had sealed his own.
Tears stung her eyes and she blinked them back, realizing that it only made those about to witness her murder more excited. She swallowed hard and tried to stand as erect as possible. She had had so little dignity in her life; she would at least meet death with it.
Tahmu’s voice drifted to her. “It is our law, that all kulis and anyone who has been influenced by them shall be put to death by the cleansing fire. Kevla Bai-sha was witnessed creating fire from her own hand, and attacking the khashima with the demonic flame. Kevla has been kuli-cursed at the very least, if she is not an actual demon herself. We honor the traditions of our people, and the laws of our Dragon, as today we witness her execution. Let this serve as a reminder to all to obey the Dragon.”
Did she detect a tremor in that powerful voice? No, it must have been her imagination. Her gaze traveled to Yeshi, standing beside her husband, and she felt a faint petty pleasure stir as she noticed that Yeshi’s hands were bandaged.
Yeshi was trying hard to look fragile and worthy of sympathy, but Kevla was not fooled. This was her day, her victory, and Kevla knew she and Halid would be celebrating.
Kevla looked out into the crowd, desperate to find a kind face, and her eyes met those of Sahlik. The older woman looked ancient, and her eyes were red. Kevla smiled sadly. At least someone would mourn her passing.
Four men approached with lit torches, and the fear she had thought dulled sprang to life. Futilely, she squirmed against her bonds, found them far too tight, and sagged against them.
This is my fate. This is my destiny. Great Dragon, I still don’t know who I am.
The wood was dry, and the fire well-prepared. It lit almost at once. Tongues of flame licked upward, and Kevla felt their heat. Smoke began to rise, engulfing her in a black and gray cloud. Through the smoke she could see orange and red flames beneath her. The wooden platform beneath her bare feet began to grow hot, then it, too, erupted into flames.
The sa’abah was exhausted. It had been running for a full day and night with only infrequent, brief breaks, but Jashemi was merciless. Something was happening to Kevla, and every heartbeat was precious. He too was exhausted, but fear flooded his veins and kept him going.
They were almost there. The riverside and the road to the House were oddly deserted, adding to Jashemi’s apprehension. The beast grunted in protest, but Jashemi would not ease up on it. It surged up the hill, through the open gates, and into the packed courtyard of the House of Four Waters.
Jashemi cried aloud at what he beheld.
Kevla was tied to a stake in the center of the courtyard. Flames leaped around her, so high and so smoky that he could barely see her body.
“Douse the fires!” he shrieked, sliding off his mount. “I order you, douse the fires!”
But no one obeyed his orders. His own father’s guards seized him and shouted into his ear, “The kuli must burn!”
Jashemi was not a weak man, and his terror for his sister gave him added strength. He wrested his arm free from the guard and started pushing his way through the crowd. Two more guards slammed into him, knocking him down. He surged up, startling them, but their grip on him was firm. He used every fighting technique that Halid had taught him, but could not break free from three guards.
There was a mighty crackle from the deadly fire, and a new sheet of flame leaped skyward. The cheers of the crowd swelled gleefully, and Jashemi finally realized with a slow, sickening horror that he had arrived too late.
“No!” he screamed, coughing from the smoke, “No! Kevla!” Tears filled his eyes and streamed down his cheeks. He sagged forward in the guards’ grip and fell to his knees, sobbing. Whether from pity or contempt, he did not know or care which, they released him.
While the crowd around him celebrated and the deadly fire crackled as if shouting a victory, the khashim’s son knelt in the dust, lost in his rage and grief.
Kevla…Kevla, I should have kept you safe….
Suddenly, the crowd’
s shrieks of delight fell silent. Shaking and wiping his wet face, Jashemi looked up.
The flames were beginning to die down. He could see through their red-orange curtain, expecting the agonizing sight of a charred skeleton. Instead, impossibly, Kevla stood untouched atop the blackened branches and logs. Even as he watched, her clothing twisted and burned, turning black and dropping off her unharmed body. She seemed as surprised as the crowd to find herself alive.
For an instant, Jashemi was so dizzy with relief that he could not move. Kevla lifted her head, stared at the crowd—and their eyes met.
“Jashemi!”
It was the sweetest sound in the world. Jashemi leaped forward like an arrow shot from a bow, rushing toward his sister. He struck and pushed his way through the press of people. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw two women carrying full earthenware water jugs, staring slack-jawed as Kevla strained against her bonds. As he raced past the oblivious pair, Jashemi grabbed the jugs and hurled them onto what was left of the pyre. The water splashed the hot wood and hissed. Everyone seemed too startled by what they had just witnessed to try to stop him.
Kevla struggled with the burned remains of the rope, and just as he reached her she pulled the last blackened coil free. He stumbled on the burned branches that cracked and gave beneath his weight and she caught him before he fell. For an instant they clung fiercely to one another. Then Jashemi whirled, grasping Kevla by the hand. He felt the remaining heat start to scorch his sandals and breeches, and held his breath against the choking smoke. He looked frantically for a mount, knowing his was too exhausted to continue. If he did not find one—
He spied a sa’abah on the edge of the crowd. It wore the livery of the House of Four Waters and probably belonged to one of the guards. Jashemi and Kevla sprinted for the beast.
The crowd was starting to recover from its shock. Tahmu’s voice rang out and Jashemi faltered for just an instant.
“Stop, Jashemi! Return the kuli for punishment! It is the law!”
He clenched his jaw and kept running. The law and everyone who would enforce it be cursed. He would die before he let anyone hurt Kevla. At the same time, he felt a stab of pain as he realized that his father had authorized this, had likely ordered it; had spoken the words that would send his own daughter to the flames.
Father, how could you?
They barely made it to the sa’abah before strong hands clapped down on Jashemi’s shoulders. He let go of Kevla, who quickly scrambled atop the animal.
Other guards were coming. “Go!” Jashemi cried.
“Not without you!” Kevla screamed, reaching a hand down to him. Her once-carefully guarded expression was as naked as her body now, and in it he saw love and fear commingled. His heart surged. With renewed strength, Jashemi twisted in the guard’s grip, turned sharply, and yanked the man’s arm behind his back. The guard cried out and dropped like a stone. In an instant, Jashemi had leaped onto the sa’abah, pulled its head around, and sped down the road, Kevla behind him holding on for dear life.
Tahmu watched them go. Emotions warred within him: relief that Kevla was alive, pride in his son for rescuing his sister, worry that he had permitted a demon to live.
“What are you doing?” snarled Yeshi in his ear. She was furious, her color high, her teeth bared. “Go after them!”
“Yeshi, I—”
She swore, then composed herself. Very loudly, she said, “Yes, my husband, you are right!”
Tahmu stared at her, not comprehending.
“You and your Second must indeed make haste and ride after the kuli. She has turned the flames to be her allies; you must kill her yourselves.”
Tahmu couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but what she said next took the breath out of him.
“And what is truly tragic is that she has obviously cursed our beautiful son Jashemi as well,” Yeshi said theatrically. “Now, he, too, must die.”
He could only stare. Had be truly been so blind as to not see what hatred of her former rival had done to her? Could she really have sunk so deeply into her jealousy and pain that she would condemn not only Kevla, but the son she had once loved above all things?
“They are no longer children,” she continued, “but things of evil. If they are permitted to go free, think of the harm they will do! My husband, painful as it is, you must slay both of them. Otherwise, anything they do will be your responsibility. The other clans will blame the Clan of Four Waters, and they will unite against you and bring you down.”
She smiled then, a satisfied, hateful smile, and he wished he could strike her down where she stood.
How could he hunt his own children, murder them in cold blood? No ordinary person could command fire, or have survived such a conflagration unscathed, this much was true. Also true was that in freeing his condemned sister, Jashemi had gone against the law and his life was forfeit. Yet the girl who admitted her own guilt seemed so unlike a demon that he wondered if perhaps Sahlik was right—that this had nothing to do with kulis and everything to do with a warning.
The Dragon was angry with Tahmu, that much was certain, but for what? Conceiving Kevla out of wedlock? Bringing her to the House? Marrying Yeshi and not Keishla? He had done so many things he thought right, but that felt wrong. The opposite was true, as well. How could he atone when he did not know which was the true sin?
Confusion whirled in his brain, but there was one thing that stood out above all else: he loved his children. Kevla had given him reason enough to condemn her, according to their laws. And yet, fire was the Dragon’s symbol. Was the Dragon protecting the girl, or issuing a challenge to Tahmu? Surely, the Dragon would not want Tahmu to slay his own progeny—or would it?
If he did not pursue them, his people would turn on him. They were frightened; he needed to allay the fears that his wife had stirred up in them. He would hunt his children. But that did not mean he needed to find them.
“Yeshi,” he whispered, bending in as if to kiss her, “you are dead to me with these words.”
Straightening, he said aloud, “My wife is right. Jashemi and Kevla must be found…and killed.” His voice broke on the last word and he dared say no more.
He moved forward, heading for the corral to find a sa’abah. His way was blocked by the figure of a small, old woman. She was the last person Tahmu wanted to see right now.
“Sahlik, out of my way,” he warned.
She stood her ground and looked up at him. “I will not move,” she said, “until you refute what you have just said.”
“The Clan—”
“You know in your heart that Kevla is not a demon! And Jashemi is only being a good brother to his sister. His mind is his own, as are his actions. Do not go after them, Tahmu, or you will regret it for the rest of your life!”
“I must,” he said, trying to push past her.
Then Sahlik did something she had never done to him before. Slowly, with difficulty, she lowered herself to her hands and knees and bent her gray head into the dirt. One gnarled hand reached to touch his sandal imploringly.
“Great Tahmu,” she said, her voice trembling, “I beg of you. I beg of you. Let the children go.”
“It is not my wish,” he said, kneeling and lifting her up gently. “You of all people know that, Sahlik. But they are my responsibility, both of them. I sired them, and they have been cursed by kulis. If I skirt this, if I let them go because they are my children, any who are not content in the Clan will turn on me. The Clan will be ripped apart.”
Sahlik’s old body shook with one violent sob. Then she lifted her head, and her eyes blazed. Before he realized what she was doing, she had reached for the ceremonial knife he always carried. For a wild instant he thought she would try to attack him, but instead she shoved up the sleeve of her rhia, baring her forearm, exposing the four old scars that marked her place in the household. Looking defiantly into the eyes of her lord, she sliced into her own arm with his blade, cutting a fifth score and emphatically ending over fifty years of se
rvice to the House of Four Waters.
Sahlik spat on the ground, looked at Tahmu with contempt, and tossed the knife to the earth. Her head high, blood dripping from the cut that marked her as a free woman, Sahlik turned and strode out the gates.
Tahmu watched her go, raising a commanding hand when one of the guards would have stopped her. He was beyond anger, rage, grief. He knew only a deep, profound sorrow that made him feel older than Sahlik.
I would I were a lesser man, he thought.
“Bring sa’abahs and weapons,” he said to the guard who had appeared at his elbow. “We ride after the kulis.”
Chapter Twenty
Kevla clung to Jashemi, her skin, protected only by the shade of the sa’abah’s tail, exposed to the sun and wind, and tightened her lips against the increasing thirst. How long they rode without stopping, she did not know. Neither of them spoke; the brutal pace of their flight did not lend itself to conversation. She had experienced a rush of joy at his unexpected appearance and her salvation, but the euphoria had faded and fearful thoughts were taking its place.
Jashemi had left the main road early, as if he had a specific destination in mind. He was riding toward the mountains, and at one point Kevla caught a bright gleam in the distance. She knew what it was: the sun flashing off the large golden disk that marked the site of the Clan of Four Water’s altar to the Great Dragon.
She thought about her dreams, and trembled, tightening her grip around Jashemi’s waist. They had transgressed, both of them. The Great Dragon, the strict keeper of the laws and traditions of their people, would exact punishment.
After they had passed the altar, Jashemi guided the sa’abah westward. The creature climbed the small hills at the foot of the mountain. But the beast was tiring, and the hills grew increasingly steep.
Jashemi brought the sa’abah to a halt and slipped off. Not looking at Kevla, he held up a hand to indicate that she should stay mounted. He tugged off his rhia and stood clad only in breeches. He handed the garment up to her.
On Fire’s Wings Page 23
