by Pat Esden
I hobbled behind Jaquith back out through the curtained doorway, onto the portico and into the tunnel. Frescoes depicting fights covered the walls, almost looking alive in the wavering torchlight. Some were of men covered in tattoos with flamelike blue auras, others depicted younger guys with glowing blue marks on their skin, a few were boy warriors, and even fewer looked like women. Some were man-shaped shadows battling wolfmen that were transforming into whirlwinds. Some fought over pits filled with jaguars and cobras, over pools teaming with deadly looking fish and eels. Swords. Bows. Knives. Rods. Hatchets. Blood. Guts.
I shuddered. A bit farther on, less gruesome scenes mixed in: dancers and musicians, glowing genies and humans having sex, warriors getting blow jobs: pretty much a genie version of the Kama Sutra. Every now and again, we passed a side tunnel or a hanging carpet.
“Remember this one.” Jaquith pointed at a deep amethyst carpet with a border of stars and a light blue moon at the top. Without stopping or even slowing his strides, he said, “After you go through it, take the one with the gold wasps, that’s assuming you want to get to the top spire. Be careful, though. I once took a carpet with green butterflies instead of red and ended up down in the berserker quarters.”
“Got it. Gold wasps,” I said. I quit hobbling and lengthened my strides to keep up with him. No matter what happened, I’d stick with Chase’s advice and avoid the carpets at all costs.
As we went around a curve, the roar of distant clapping and shouts echoed through the tunnel. A small army of servants in long striped tunics rushed past, going in the opposite direction, their arms weighed down with empty platters and buckets of rib bones. They dipped their heads at Jaquith and looked right past me as if I were invisible, which was perfectly fine with me.
Jaquith stopped where the tunnel we were in intersected with another, forming a sort of crossroads. “Straight ahead leads up onto the stage where Malphic and your mother will be. As soon as the flutist is done performing, your mother and I’ll meet you three here.” He turned left. “This tunnel goes to the arena and ringside seating. Unless something’s gone wrong, Chase and your flutist should be there by now.”
I appreciated his inside knowledge and advice. But the idea of him choosing where and when we’d meet and what route we’d take to escape didn’t sit well with me, any more than the idea of diving through carpets. However, that didn’t bother me half as much as the nagging fear that Chase and Lotli might not be waiting in the arena—or that they were there, but the change had overtaken Chase and he was on the verge of going berserk.
A nauseous feeling churned in my stomach. I pressed my hand over the egg pendant, wishing it really did have the power to protect us and wasn’t merely symbolic like Olya had said. We needed all the luck we could get.
The distant roar of the arena took on its true volume as we strode out of the tunnel and into the open-air performance area. Moonlight and the aurora’s fluxing colors bathed everything, silver, lime-green, and violet. The air was thick with smoke and the scent of roasting meat and musty wine. The three disks I’d seen from the balcony were platforms, like circular boxing rings each surrounded by flames instead of ropes or nets. To my right was a long stage, raised nearly a story above the performance area. On it, Malphic, Vephra, and the rest of their crowd sat in chairs along the far side of a cloth-draped table covered with bottles and chalices, and heaped with food. Behind them, marble columns formed a backdrop, through which the ocean, craggy outcrops of rocks, and the full moon were visible. I couldn’t see Mother, but she had to be up there somewhere.
“Over there.” Jaquith barked it like an order and shoved me to the left and toward where a stone grandstand curved along one side of the arena. Warriors packed the seats, mostly younger guys, a few older men and eunuchs, a couple were perhaps girls, some had wolfish or cobra-like faces; shadow-genies and uniformed guards stood at attention. It was horrifyingly unreal, like a nightmare version of a college football game or an outdoor concert gone wrong.
For a moment, I was overwhelmed by it all and couldn’t move. Then a warrior standing next to the grandstand’s lowest tier waved me in his direction. I hunched subserviently and limped toward him through the smoke and noise, keeping my gaze on the marks twining up his arms. I didn’t dare raise my eyes, not with so many genies around, so many eyes to see if I made a wrong move.
I was only a few paces away from the warrior when it dawned on me that the shape of his sculpted arms and body were ungodly familiar. My heart skipped a beat, relief crashing over me. Chase. I gave him a quick scan, my spirits lifting even more. His stance, his eyes, everything about him said he was okay, more than okay. I glanced around a bit more and discovered Lotli huddled on a bench near Chase, once again cocooned in her veils. Beyond her, dozens of costumed performers, warriors, and brown-robed eunuchs sat, talking and drinking. This definitely was the ringside tier Jaquith had mentioned.
I slouched down onto the bench next to Lotli. Her face looked different; her eyelids smudged gold, her lips unearthly dark crimson. Still, my muscles relaxed and I breathed easier. She was fine, just like Chase. Maybe this plan was going to work after all.
My chest tightened. Or maybe not. If Jaquith hadn’t guessed who Chase and the flutist were before, he now knew for sure. What if he wasn’t as trustworthy as I thought?
I looked back in time to see Jaquith heading up a set of stairs and onto the stage, and another wave of relief hit me. If this were a trap designed to catch all of us at one time, it seemed as though the guards would have rushed us by now.
Chase perched on the other side of Lotli and leaned toward me. “You were limping. What the hell did that bastard do to you?”
It took me a heartbeat to get what he meant. I straightened up my hunched back. “Nothing. No one hurt me. That guy—the eunuch who brought me here—his name is Jaquith. Your half brother?” I said it hesitantly, watching his face closely.
Chase’s mouth gaped. “What?” His head snapped toward where Jaquith had now blended in with a group of eunuchs standing behind Malphic’s table.
“I’m pretty sure he wasn’t lying,” I said. “He looked like you and Malphic. . . .”
Afraid my whispers might quickly begin to look suspicious, I gave him and Lotli an abbreviated version of my encounter with Mother and Malphic, and how I met Jaquith, and his plan for Mother’s escape. When I was finished, I shot another glance at the stage. I could see Mother now and the other women gathered at a table behind Malphic’s. A trickle of sweat worked its way down my spine. Guards, a dozen of them plus the burn-faced spy, stood right behind Mother’s table. I lowered my voice even further. “Jaquith said we should wait until after Lotli’s performance, but I don’t see why we can’t get Mother and leave now.”
Chase shook his head. “It’s too late for that. Lotli’s leaving at this point would be seen as a refusal to perform, a direct insult to Malphic. We’d be grabbed before we could reach the tunnel and dragged in front of him to be punished.” He reached across Lotli and rested a reassuring hand on my leg. “Jaquith is right. Seeing this through is the safest way.”
The slow thud of drums sounded. Chase grew silent, and so did everyone else in the arena. But I could still sense the throbbing energy of the crowd behind us, a tidal wave held back, waiting to break loose.
A stocky woman in a flowing robe swished out from the ringside seats and strolled onto the center platform, along with a group of men carrying stringed instruments I’d never seen before. After a dramatic pause, the flames around the platform brightened and she began to sing.
It was a strange vibrating sound that reminded me of a Mongolian throat singer. The instruments joined in, fast and wild, a weird melody of groaning and crying. The singer’s voice picked up speed, thumping and pulsating through the air until it wormed its way into my veins and bones.
Lotli’s quivering hand gripped mine. “We can’t do this,” she said. “They are amazing.”
“So are you,” I whispered close to h
er ear. But, as magical as her flute music was, she was just a single performer, not an entire professional troupe.
The singer finished off her performance with an avalanche of throaty gurgles, the musicians quieted, then the fire surrounding the center platform faded.
Instantly, torches flared to life around the farthest platform. A man with a willowy body, painted black and red and dressed in nothing except ragged dark tights, prowled out from the ringside seats and onto that stage. He began to dance, slowly circling the edge of the platform, his fingers snapping in time with his steps, bells around his ankles jangling. Another identical dancer joined him, then another. I sat transfixed, watching and listening until—
They opened their mouths freakishly wide and began to mewl: a high-pitched sound, like a lost cat or wind clawing under a doorway. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled and I shuddered.
Lotli released my hand and sat bolt upright. The mewling rose higher as the dancers began to circle faster. Arms outspread, they started to whirl. Another and another dancer joined in, spinning at a dizzying pace, their fingertips and hair transforming into flame, their bodies and legs becoming fire, until only circles of black-and-red flame dipped and spun in time with the strange mewling. Suddenly the mewling stopped. The flames sputtered low and distorted into the shape of a dozen dancers bowing toward Malphic.
Someone passed a wine bottle down from behind us. Although my mouth was dry from fear and thirst, I passed the drink on to Lotli, who handed it to Chase. He nodded approvingly and passed it on to someone else. As another show began, this time in front of us, a platter of ribs came my way. I resisted again and passed it on. But when the platter got to Chase, he set it on his lap.
I reached over Lotli and flicked his thigh with my fingers. “What are you doing?” I whispered when he glanced my way.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine,” he said sharply.
But, as he turned back to the platter and began gnawing meat off the ribs with uncontained lust and tossing the bones on the ground, neither his words nor the fact that he’d grown up eating this food lessened my worry. We needed to get Lotli’s show over with, get Mother, and get out of here before something happened, something terrifying and irreversible.
Hours passed, the fear pounding inside me, growing stronger with each fleeting second. Shape-shifters swirled out of thin air, morphing into whirlwinds and hooded snakes. More wine bottles passed our way. The smoke became thicker and the aurora’s light dulled, as the moon made its way across the sky. The audience shouted, jeered, and screamed. Behind us someone puked. Someone at Malphic’s table passed out. The guards broke up a fight in the grandstand. Mother got up and left for a while. Chase told me to relax, that she’d be back, that it probably had to do with her inability to stay solid for very long. She returned a short time later, her anxious eyes darting to me as she walked behind Malphic to her seat.
Lotli shifted away from me and I looked to see what was going on. She was leaned in close to Chase, whispering in his ear. His arm went around her shoulder and a vicious stab of jealousy hit me. He whispered something back to her and a left-out feeling boiled inside me. I scowled at them. I should have been the one sitting next to Chase, the one getting his hugs and sharing his secrets. Not her.
I squeezed my eyes shut, shoving the poisonous thoughts away. This is not the time to let pettiness steal your brain, Annie, I chided myself. He’s just comforting her. It’s normal, understandable.
Lotli swiveled toward me. “It’s almost our turn,” she said, her voice trembling.
My shame deepened, transforming into concern and empathy. I gave her a hug. “Don’t worry. They’ll love you,” I said. But something that she’d just said niggled at my mind or maybe it was how she’d said those words. I shook my head and shrugged off the uncomfortable feeling. No more pettiness. It will all be over soon.
On the farthest platform, the wail of a bagpipe began, followed by the heartbeat of drums. Chase closed his eyes and rocked in time with the music, every muscle in his body joining in. Lotli blew out loud breaths and stared straight ahead, her chin rising as she focused into the distance.
My pulse quickened with the music’s gathering energy, and that niggling feeling returned, a fierce uncomfortable twinge in my chest, building ever stronger. What was it that Lotli had said? It seemed important that I remember.
Goose bumps chilled me as Lotli rose to her feet. This was it. She was next. There was no turning back now. But soon we’d be out of here. Soon we’d be leaving. And none too soon—time had gone by faster than I thought and the moon was behind us now. Sunrise had to be closing in. We had to get out of here before that happened or the oil would wear off and Lotli and I would turn ethereal right here in the arena. If that happened, they’d know we were humans for sure, and that would be worse than bad.
The platform in front of us flared to life, stark and white, surrounded by low blue flames. Wrapped tight in a cocoon of veils, Lotli flowed forward until she stood at its center. Only then did I realize that Chase was already there, crouched, his head bowed, so he was nearly invisible under the fire’s dancing light.
Horror-stuck, I gripped the edge of the bench. Our turn, that’s what she’d said, her tongue wrapping around the word our, enunciating it with a certain pleasure, different from her normal we and us bullshit.
My fingernails dug into the bench. What the hell was going on? What the hell was Chase thinking? If I hadn’t known better, I’d have thought he’d already lost his mind.
He lifted his scarf-covered face, a marked and battle-ready warrior frozen motionless, waiting for some unseen battle. Thankfully, the black smudge still shadowed his eyes, hiding his identity, at least for now.
Lotli raised her flute to her lips. Her first note trembled in the massive arena, a tiny whistle sounding on a mountaintop, the echo of a distant dream. One note slowly melted into the next, and a deep, hollow sound built underneath that, a song reminiscent of the one she’d played in Moonhill’s library, but reshaped to fit this realm.
The entire arena—Malphic’s table, the grandstand—everyone sat transfixed as she held each note before moving on to the next. Genies, shadows, half genies . . . all of them, even the yarn and charms dangling from her flute barely moved, shimmering like aspen leaves waiting for the wind to rise.
She slid her fingers along the length of her instrument, then her music cut loose, rising and curling, a rush of warmth, a blast of cold, flooding the arena as she swirled across the platform. Her veils flew away from her body, fluttering to the floor. Now only dressed in the barest of tops and sheerest skirts, she swayed with the music encircling Chase, her feet tip-tapping, heel to toe, heel to toe. Her fingers caressed the flute. Her lips glistened. The music moaned, pleaded. It trilled like a thousand different birds at once. A hummingbird flying above the ocean’s waves. A black egret in its gloomy swamp. A wood thrush. A stork.
The steady beat of Chase’s fist against his thigh joined the tip-tap of her feet. I’d almost forgotten that he was still in the middle of the platform, but now my stomach was on fire with fear as her body snaked and slithered in front of him.
Like a marionette, he rose to his feet in time with her music, one muscle and then another coming to life, turning fluid. His scimitar glistened as he drew it. Granted, Chase and I had never been dancing, but I’d never thought him capable of such grace, such flowing movements. He was a ballet dancer, a shaman of the battlefield.
Horror shot through me. A man on the cusp of change. On the cusp of change, the words echoed in my head.
The rhythm of Lotli’s flute increased, like when she’d opened the veil, fast and staccato. He slashed golden arcs in the air, his feet thumping a rhythmic pulse, the marks on his arms shimmering, glowing brighter and brighter blue as she twirled closer and closer to him, her finger stroking the length of the flute, touching the yarn, her lips moving against the ancient bone.
His scimitar was gone now, vanished into thin air. She swayed to
ward him, rocking and thrusting her hips. He mirrored her movements, erotic gyrations increasing. They drew to within inches of each other. Her hipbones rubbed his, his responded. My face went hot from embarrassment, but at the same time it was totally surreal, as if I’d stumbled onto the set of a triple-X movie and didn’t recognize the actors.
Malphic and all the men at his table half rose from their chairs, their hands on the table as they leaned forward, eager for what was going to happen next.
In a flash, my senses returned, the surreal feeling vanishing. I bolted to my feet, fury roaring through me. I clenched my hands and ground my teeth, betrayal, humiliation, and horror all raging inside me. My body shook from their power, as Chase crouched before her, looking at her with lust-filled eyes. Her hips swept his face, slowly shimmying. His hands slid up her thighs, clutching her butt.
A sour taste filled my mouth as her head lolled back, her flute piping an ecstatic trill. She ground her crotch against his mouth.
Anger rang in my ears. I ripped off the egg pendant. Friends my ass.
Fuck her. Fuck everything about her. I slammed the necklace to the ground.
BANG!
The egg exploded like a grenade, white light blazing out from it. I threw my hands up to cover my eyes. Orange flashes. Red flashes. A tsunami of cold air surged across the arena, followed by a wave of blistering heat.
A writhing sensation swept over me, every hair standing on edge. My body felt weightless as if my bones were made of feathers. My ears echoed with the roar of the crowd behind me. I wheeled toward Lotli. She was no longer solid. She was a ghost standing center stage, as ethereal as I was. But it wasn’t sunrise yet. Oh crap! The egg. Breaking it had affected the oil.
“Humans!” someone shrieked.
CHAPTER 28
It is the soul not the mirror that reflects the face of fear.
—Woven into the moon carpet
