The Silent City

by Ginn Hale

  “Are you sure this leads somewhere?” John asked.

  “I’m sure,” Eriki’yu said firmly. “I know all the rat cracks in the Warren. This one will take us straight to the black door. The stairs there come up in the orchard right behind the chapel.”

  “Straight ahead it is then.”

  “Please hurry,” Eriki’yu murmured.

  John quickened his pace. He heard Eriki’yu’s bare feet slapping against the granite as the boy ran to keep up with him.

  “So, what does Arren need me for?” John asked.

  “I don’t know. He just said it was an emergency.” Eriki’yu’s voice trembled slightly.

  John considered what this emergency might be and why Arren would need him of all people. He would have thought that Arren would still be instructing the girls in the practice hall. A terrible feeling washed through John. He didn’t think Arren was anywhere near the chapel right now.

  “Why does Arren need me to meet him behind the chapel?”

  “I don’t know,” Eriki’yu said quickly. “Please just go. Please.”

  “Who hit you in the face?”

  “I told you. I tripped on the stairs. I do it all the time.”

  “Yeah, I noticed you were pretty beaten up in combat practice.” John stopped and Eriki’yu slammed into his back.

  “Please keep going.” Eriki’yu pushed against John’s back. “He’ll kill me if you don’t show up.”

  “Who will?”

  “Arren.” Eriki’yu’s thin voice rose slightly. “He really needs to see you.”

  “Look,” John said, “I’m not an idiot. I just left Arren a few minutes ago in the practice hall. I know he isn’t waiting for me in the orchard behind the chapel. So, who is?”

  John felt Eriki’yu’s cold hand slip off his back. Then he heard the soft thump of the boy dropping down to the stone floor. John negotiated the awkward confines of the narrow tunnel to turn and crouch down beside Eriki’yu. The boy pulled his legs up close to his chest. He hid his face down against his knees. John thought from the sound of the boy’s breathing that Eriki’yu might be crying, but he wasn’t sure.

  “If you don’t show up,” Eriki’yu whispered, “Lyyn is going to kill me. He really will.”

  “I won’t let Lyyn kill you.”

  “How are you going to stop him?” Eriki’yu demanded. “You don’t even live in the common quarters. You get to stay with Ji and her students.”

  The pragmatism of Eriki’yu’s response shamed John. Eriki’yu’s problem was real and—judging from the beaten state of his body—critical. Confronted with it, John had given him a groundless assurance, more to quiet him than to offer any real solution.

  “Isn’t there someone who looks after you? Someone who can deal with Lyyn?” John asked.

  Eriki’yu shook his head. “The Payshmura burned my sister two years ago. Lyyn’s my guardian now.”

  “He’s your guardian?”

  Eriki’yu nodded. “My sister ran away with him to join the Fai’daum. I followed her. But now she’s dead and Lyyn hates me. He says I’m a weakling.”

  “Can you go back home?” John asked.

  Eriki’yu shook his head. He made a soft, choking noise and John realized that he really was crying. The disgust John had previously felt for Lyyn compressed into hatred. Lyyn was the one who should have been protecting Eriki’yu. Instead he beat the boy and then taunted him for not being able to defend himself.

  “All right,” John said. “I’ll go meet Lyyn—”

  “Don’t.” Eriki’yu suddenly gripped John’s hand. “He’ll kill you. He hates you more than he hates me.”

  “Lyyn isn’t going to kill me,” John said. “He’ll be lucky if I don’t kill him.”

  “No, he has two friends with him,” Eriki’yu whispered. “They’re going to jump you and make you beg for your life. They’ll do it too. Lyyn’s not afraid of anybody.”

  John knew that wasn’t true. Lyyn feared the authorities within the Warren. Otherwise he would have acted like Dayyid had in Rathal’pesha. He would have just strode out onto the training grounds and beaten whomever he felt deserved the pain. Lyyn needed to be much more secretive. He hid in an orchard and sent Eriki’yu to lure John to him.

  “Lyyn’s not as fearless as he wants you to think. And he’s not as strong either.” John reached out and gently touched Eriki’yu’s shoulder. Eriki’yu lifted his head.

  “What are you going to do?” Eriki’yu asked. He sniffed and wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve.

  “I’m going to go deal with Lyyn.” John straightened. “But I want you to go and get Ji. Tell her what’s happened and where I am.”

  “The witch?”

  Even in the darkness John could see the whites of Eriki’yu’s wide eyes.

  “She won’t do anything to you. Just tell her what’s happened,” John said firmly.

  Eriki’yu stood up. He reached out and very tentatively touched John’s hand. He moved his fingers against John’s palm, making the symbol for safety and blessing. Then he turned and ran back the way they had come.

  John continued down the rat crack.

  He knew the intelligent thing to do would be to go back with Eriki’yu and complain to Ji. But there was a deep anger in John. It burned through his thoughts like a fever, fuzing Lyyn with the memories of other men: the boys who had tormented Bill all through high school, calling him a faggot and hounding him mercilessly through gym classes. Then he remembered the thick beard and heavy build of Commander Tashtu, the man who had tried to rape Laurie and had murdered Bill.

  John reached the black door quickly. It opened into a small storm cellar. Big casks of fruit gave off the sharp scent of fermentation. Smooth clay jars lined the shelves.

  He climbed the narrow stairs up to the frigid open air. Snow still covered the ground. Icicles hung from the bare branches of the surrounding trees. The cold brought John back to his senses somewhat. It was winter outside the Warren and he wasn’t even wearing a shirt.

  Then he saw Lyyn standing between two gnarled trees. His thick brown jacket hung open but his hands were hidden in the pockets.

  “Didn’t your girlfriend come with you?” Lyyn asked.

  John knew that Lyyn meant Eriki’yu. He didn’t respond. Instead he concentrated on his surroundings. If Lyyn was standing in front of him, then Lyyn’s two friends were probably somewhere behind him. John heard the soft crunch of snow to his left. He glanced to the nearest tree and noticed the weird shape of its shadow.

  John charged the man behind the tree. Lyyn started after John, but he wasn’t fast enough. John caught hold of the man behind the tree, punched him once, hard, and then hurled him into Lyyn. The two of them crumpled into the snow.

  Suddenly John felt a rough cord bite into his neck. The man behind John twisted the rope tighter around his throat. John brought his hands up to the rope and focused his will against its fibrous structure. It burned and split apart under his fingers.

  John spun and grabbed the man behind him by the front of his bulky coat. He stared at John in horror. John hefted him off his feet, slammed him into a tree trunk, and then threw him to the ground like a rag doll. The man groaned when he hit the snow.

  “Stay down,” John growled and the man lay still.

  John turned back. Lyyn and his other friend had regained their feet. John strode towards them. The friend bolted back towards the dark shadow of the chapel. John let him go. It was Lyyn he wanted.

  “You think I’m scared of you?” Lyyn dug his hand into his jacket pocket. He found something and smiled. “I’m not. Because I know what you are, Jahn. You’re an animal. A filthy, twisted, boy-fucking animal.”

  John scowled at Lyyn. Then a movement behind Lyyn caught John’s attention. Three dark figures were approaching from the direction of the chapel. John strained to make out their features. They were the priests: Lam, Daru, and Giryyn.

  “Don’t pretend like you can’t even fucking see me!” Lyyn shouted
.

  John’s attention snapped back to Lyyn in time to see him raise a pistol. John stared at the gun. Firearms were far too expensive for the Fai’daum to distribute to tradesmen like Lyyn. He had to have stolen it from the armory.

  “Now who’s scared!” Lyyn demanded. He grinned at John. “Get down on your knees, dog. You’re going to beg me for your filthy, worthless life.”

  John could see the three priests’ faces clearly now. He wondered if they could see the pistol in Lyyn’s hands.

  “On your knees, you bag of shit!” Lyyn shouted.

  “No,” John replied calmly.

  “You think I won’t do it?” Lyyn pulled back the hammer of the pistol. John knew he would open fire. He could see the determination in Lyyn’s face. Still, John couldn’t bring himself to kneel before the man. He stood his ground, staring directly at Lyyn. He wondered if he could burn Lyyn the way he had burned the rope. He lifted his hand.

  Suddenly the air between them seemed to shudder. An instant later Ravishan burst out from nowhere. Lyyn staggered back. He fired his pistol, but the shot went wide. Ravishan punched two fingers into Lyyn’s neck. Blood spewed up from Lyyn’s throat. Lyyn collapsed into the snow. Steam rose from his blood as it spread across the snow.

  Ravishan quickly retreated to John’s side. Only a yard ahead of them the three priests stood staring.

  Chapter Eighty-Four

  John glanced down at Lyyn’s body. His eyes were wide and fixed on some distant point in the pale sky. His throat gaped open like a gory mouth. Dark blood pooled around his head, melting through the snow. John expected to feel sick, but he didn’t. He was growing used to the sight of dead bodies.

  He stepped closer to Ravishan. The three priests stood exactly where they had when Lyyn had fallen. All three of them watched Ravishan as if they couldn’t tear their eyes from him.

  “Are we going to have to fight our way out of here?” Ravishan whispered.

  “Not yet,” John replied. He raised his hands and made the Payshmura sign of peace.

  Very slowly, Giryyn returned the hand sign.

  “Ji sent word that you were in trouble, Jahn.” Giryyn hardly raised his voice, but it carried easily through the silence.

  “Yes, I was. Thank you for coming,” John replied.

  Though Giryyn spoke to him, John noted that all three of the priests kept their eyes on Ravishan, who returned their wary gazes with an expression of defiance.

  “This is Ravishan,” John said. “He has come as a friend to the Fai’daum.”

  For several moments there was utter silence. A thin cold wind blew through the bare branches of the trees and stirred the snow on the ground. John shuddered.

  “Will you come with us to the chapel?” Giryyn spoke calmly and evenly. His gaze never left Ravishan. “Ji will join us there.”

  John started forward but Ravishan didn’t move. Glancing back, he saw Ravishan eyeing the priests with suspicion that bordered on open hostility.

  “Can you trust them?” Ravishan whispered.

  John wasn’t sure, but the last thing he wanted was more fighting. Clearly, the priests were waiting for some sign of Ravishan’s friendly intentions.

  “I don’t think they’ll try anything,” John said.

  “I’ve murdered one of their men.”

  “Yes, but Lyyn was breaking two major Fai’daum laws. I think you’ll be safe, especially if Ji speaks for you.”

  “Will she?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Even now?”

  “Yes,” John said firmly. “Look, I need to get out of the cold. The chapel is close.”

  Ravishan nodded. He unbuttoned his coat and draped it over John’s bare shoulders, then walked with John past the priests into the chapel. Inside, the fire radiated heat and cast golden light across the stone floor and wooden walls. The statue of Parfir smiled down with vacant benevolence. John stopped in front of the fire and warmed his hands. Ravishan stayed close. His skin looked tawny in the warm light.

  The three priests followed John and Ravishan inside. Giryyn spoke briefly with the other two priests at the door. Daru and Lam withdrew to the backrooms. Giryyn approached the fireplace where John and Ravishan stood. He moved slowly and fluidly, as if he were approaching a wild animal.

  Ravishan watched him. There was a hardness in his expression that seemed to warrant Giryyn’s caution. John suddenly realized that Ravishan’s tension was fueled as much by Giryyn’s robes as it was by the thought that he was a Fai’daum—perhaps more so. The austere figure Giryyn presented was one Ravishan instinctively associated with brutal punishment.

  “That man of yours tried to kill Jahn,” Ravishan said suddenly. “He had a pistol aimed right at him.”

  “I saw him point the pistol.” Giryyn stopped a yard or so from Ravishan. “Lyyn had no right to behave as he did.”

  “I won’t accept punishment for his death,” Ravishan stated.

  “I doubt that I could do any such thing even if I were so inclined,” Giryyn said. “And I am not.”

  Ravishan relaxed a little. His gaze shifted from Giryyn. He held his hands up to the fire and studied his surroundings.

  “Who worships here?” Ravishan didn’t look at Giryyn but instead gazed up at the statue of Parfir.

  “Anyone who wishes to,” Giryyn replied. “The fighters often come for blessings before they are sent out. We Fai’daum are not the godless degenerates that the high and holy would have you believe us to be.”

  “Jahn said that you wouldn’t be,” Ravishan remarked.

  Giryyn glanced to John with a look of slight surprise. John supposed that Giryyn hadn’t credited him with the intellect to make such a statement. John shrugged at Giryyn’s narrow gaze. Giryyn’s attention shifted back to Ravishan.

  “Parfir is revered here, even if the Payshmura are not,” Giryyn said.

  The sound of voices came from behind the main doors. All three of them turned as the doors swung open. Ji trotted through, followed by Arren and two big men John recognized from battle practice. Between them were Lyyn’s two friends. John could see that their hands had been bound behind them. Very last came Eriki’yu.

  “The ground is still frozen so we threw Lyyn’s body on the refuse pile—” Ji broke off when she saw Ravishan. The men behind her stared at Ravishan as well, unsure of who he was or why the sight of him should silence Ji.

  “This is Ravishan,” Giryyn said. “He’s come to join us.”

  Ji glanced very briefly to John. Then she returned her attention to Giryyn.

  “We need to settle the matter of Lyyn’s death first,” Ji said.

  “Lam is preparing the fathi,” Giryyn said.

  A slight nausea curled through John’s stomach at the thought of the sweet drink.

  “I doubt it will be necessary,” Ji replied. “Sera and Mahar have already admitted to ambushing Jahn. Eriki’yu testified that Lyyn was the one who had instigated it.”

  “Have any of them explained how Lyyn managed to get his hands on a captain’s pistol?” Giryyn demanded.

  “He took it from the metal shop,” one of the men quickly responded. “Lafi’shir had brought it in because the sight was off. Lyyn was supposed to repair it. Since Lafi’shir won’t be back for another week Lyyn thought he could have some fun with it in the meantime.” The man bowed his head. “We didn’t think that he’d really try to use it.”

  “You should have reported him at once,” Giryyn stated coldly. “Instead it seems a child had to come forward. Is that correct?”

  “It is,” Ji replied. “Eriki’yu, Lyyn’s ward, came to me and told me everything. That’s when I sent word to you.”

  Giryyn appeared to contemplate Parfir’s statue. Then he turned his attention back to Ji.

  “If it weren’t for the pistol, I would be inclined to be lenient, since neither of these two is the instigator…” Giryyn paused as Ji shook her head.

  “They are full grown men,” Ji objected. “They knew Lyyn had t
he pistol and they still agreed to assault Jahn in cold blood.”

  Giryyn frowned at this. “Were they provoked at all?”

  “Jahn bested them in battle practice but nothing beyond that.” Arren spoke for the first time.

  “If they are not punished harshly for this,” Ji growled, “it will be a grave insult to my students and to me. If these men had lured Tanash or Kansa to the orchard and attacked her, you wouldn’t even consider lenience, Giryyn.”

  “No, I wouldn’t.” This seemed to trouble Giryyn. He gazed down at his hands. “But Jahn didn’t seem to have much to fear from the three of them. In fact, when we arrived, he appeared to have them all well in hand.”

  Ravishan started to say something, but John caught his arm. Neither of them knew the Fai’daum laws well enough to argue with Giryyn. John didn’t even know if he wanted to. The few Fai’daum laws he was aware of were harsh. These men could be facing execution.

  “Jahn’s strength does not alter the crime that these men attempted to commit,” Ji responded. “Their failure doesn’t make them any less guilty, just less competent.”

  John thought he saw Arren smile slightly at this. Giryyn didn’t look pleased.

  “Thirty lashes,” Giryyn murmured to Ji.

  “Sixty and half wages for a year,” Ji countered.

  Giryyn scowled at the suggestion, but before he could argue, Ji cut him off.

  “I could demand their deaths,” Ji said. “Lafi’shir will be back in a week if you want to wait for him to weigh in on it.”

  “Very well,” Giryyn said at last. “Sixty lashes and half wages for the year. Are we agreed?”

  “We’re agreed,” Ji said.

  John couldn’t help but glance to the two men who had been sentenced. Their faces were unnaturally pale and their expressions were miserable.

  Ravishan made a soft, derisive noise.

  “Sixty lashes,” Ravishan muttered. “Dayyid would have sent them to the pyre.”