Gideon sat on the ground fiddling with a blade of grass. The two old women sat on their bench, while Asha and Priya sat on the edge of the well. A pair of young boys ran out and sat near the old women, who shushed them.
“A few more years passed. Then a man came to visit the king. He was a scholar of great renown called Master Bashir. He had studied with the wisest men in Aegyptus and India and other places I had never heard of. But for all his wisdom and knowledge, he was still just a man. He counseled the king by day, but played dice and drank wine in the city at night. And one night there was a fight. I happened to be nearby and saved Bashir from a couple of gentleman with unpleasant intentions and very large swords.” Gideon grinned and shrugged. “So Bashir asked that I be assigned to be his personal bodyguard. For a few months, I followed him around and pulled him out of fights. One particular night he was so drunk that I actually had to carry him home. He was laughing, babbling that he didn’t really need me, that he couldn’t be killed, or that he wished someone would kill him. He kept babbling until he passed out.
“The next morning, he was so grim, so serious. I’d never seen him so miserable. And that’s when he told me that he was thousands of years old. I thought he was crazy, of course, but Bashir explained that he had found a strange metal that could control aether and human souls. And he had devised a way to make a person immortal,” Gideon said. “It was a hard life, he said. Living forever. Living alone. But he had made other people immortal too. An entire family in Aegyptus, for starters. And he had just returned from India where he had made a young prince immortal. Bashir said this prince was the paragon of every virtue, and he hoped to see what might happen if a kind ruler were to rule forever. But Bashir had not given this prince an immortal companion, and that little oversight was what had made him so sad when I met him. He felt guilty, you see.”
“How?” Asha asked. “How did Bashir make people immortal?”
Gideon lifted the golden pendant from his chest again. “He draws out a tiny portion of a person’s soul and traps it in the sun-steel. The steel never rusts, never weakens, never changes, and it transfers these qualities to the person whose soul is sealed inside. He had a pendant like this too. And he made this one for me.”
“This man, Bashir, divided your soul?” Asha asked.
“Yes. And not just mine. There were two others in Damascus, at about the same time. A nun and a courtesan.”
“Why you? Why them?” Priya asked.
Gideon shrugged and returned to bending and twisting his blade of grass. “I’m not really sure. Obviously I wasn’t a prince or a priest, and just barely a soldier. Just the sort of man who would run into a tavern to rescue a stranger from a fight. The nun cared for the sick and the poor. The courtesan… well, I don’t really know what he saw in her.” He winced and gazed out over the fields.
“Two thousand years?” Priya smiled. “And I thought I was old.”
“Why? How old are you?” asked Gideon.
“A little more than two hundred, I think.”
He grinned. “I bet you’ve got a great story to tell too.”
“Let’s stick to yours,” Asha said, folding her arms across her chest. “What have you been doing for two thousand years, and where did you get that sword?”
Gideon touched the brass gauntlet. “Bashir said that in the past he had given his knowledge of sun-steel and soul-breaking to others, but he had come to regret that decision. So he taught me a little about the steel, and he taught the courtesan a little about souls, and he taught the nun a little about aether and made us swear never to share our knowledge with each other. And we didn’t.
“I traveled the world, looking for something to do with myself. It didn’t take long for me to find that there were people who had forged swords of sun-steel that stole the souls of their victims. And that’s when I realized what I needed to do, what I wanted to do. I would set those captured souls free. So I found a man with a sun-steel sword that blazed brighter and hotter than any other, and I stole it. And now I use that sword to shatter the others.” Gideon shrugged. “Been doing it ever since.”
“And that sets the souls free?”
“Some of them.” Gideon nodded. “But some are always drawn into my own blade, as well. If I ever manage to destroy all the other sun-steel, then the final task will be to destroy my own sword, somehow. If there was any other way to do it, I would. But a sun-steel blade can only be broken by something hotter and harder than itself. And that means another, stronger sun-steel blade.”
Asha blinked. “So you’ve been fighting these people and freeing captured souls for two thousand years?”
He shrugged. “More or less.”
“Then, I’m sorry.” Asha gazed into his eyes. “I saw you go through my bag last night. And then when I saw that blade, I assumed you were like the others. We’ve seen another man with a sword like that.”
“In a green robe or a brown one?”
“Green. Why? What does that mean?”
Gideon shrugged at her. “Just that he came from the west, and not the east. You met an Osirian, one of the Sons of Osiris. Every few hundred years I burn down their temple, but they just keep coming back. It’s a little frustrating, actually.”
* * *
Two hours later they had loaded all of the supplies that Kahina wanted onto the airship. The pilot thanked Asha again and stepped aboard to start the engine. Gideon stood in the grass, gazing east at the cedar forest. “Are you two going to be all right? Eran can be a dangerous place.”
“We’ve heard that before,” Priya said. “I think we’ll manage.” She rubbed the head of the mongoose on her shoulder.
“And you.” Asha gave him a serious look. “Watch your back. Just because you’re immortal doesn’t mean you can’t be hurt, or buried in a cave, or sunk to the bottom of the sea. Take care.”
He smiled. “You too. That ear of yours—”
Asha jerked away to stare at the cedar forest. A deep thrum rose from the quiet voices of the trees, and it grew steadily louder. “Something’s coming.”
Gideon frowned and strode out onto the road facing the forest. His left hand strayed to the release lever on his gauntlet.
A figure emerged from the woods onto the road, the black shape of a horse and rider. They raced out of the trees and up the road, striking out quickly through the fields and orchards, snaking up toward the village on the hill. When he left the shadows for the sunlight, the rider’s cloak fluttered behind him. It was green.
“It’s Sebek,” Asha said. “The man with the burning sword, the one we met in the east.”
Gideon nodded. His white-hot blade shot down from his gauntlet and clicked into place. The air around it sizzled and rippled like boiling water. “I’ll take care of him.”
Asha took Priya inside the airship cabin, told Kahina what was happening, and then closed the door as she stepped back outside.
“You may not want to see this,” Gideon said. “It’s not like killing a man with a normal sword.”
“I’ve seen it before. I’ve seen this man Sebek use his sword.”
“I understand. But my blade is different. It’s much older. It’s, well, worse.”
“I’m fine,” Asha said. “You might even need my help.”
Gideon grinned. “It must be hard for you to believe I’m two thousand years old, or that I can’t be killed.”
“It’s hard for me to believe you’re twenty years old. And you wouldn’t be the first boy to think he was immortal.” Asha stood beside him in the road and pulled a single glass needle from her bag. A thin vein of red liquid rested in the slender reservoir. “But I’ve seen some strange and terrible things in this world, and I do believe your story, for what it’s worth.”
“Thanks. I don’t tell it very often.”
“I believe that too.”
As the horse and rider thundered up the last stretch of the road, Asha said, “I’m glad it’s him, actually. I was beginning to worry about the sound
I was hearing. I thought that maybe your demon bull was really out there, following me.”
Gideon shook his head. “Nah, I killed that bull centuries ago. Now, please step back.” He raised his weapon.
“I said I can help.” Asha raised her needle.
Gideon glared, his handsome young face twisted and lined. “I said get back!”
Asha saw the furious iron in the man’s eyes, and she stepped aside out of the road, but kept her needle at the ready.
Sebek galloped up to Gideon and reined his horse in, but the animal kept dancing and snorting as the rider yanked his short sword from its scabbard. The blade gleamed with a pale golden hue. “I’ve come for the woman!” Sebek pointed his sword at Asha. “Stand aside!”
“No.” Gideon drew down in a low stance with his shining white blade extended behind him. “Throw down your sword and surrender.”
“Idiot!” Sebek kicked his mount into a fresh gallop, thundering toward the man standing in the middle of the road.
Gideon leapt aside and swung his blade up as the rider swung his sword down. The white gauntlet shattered the yellow sword and plunged on into the rider’s belly. From the instant of contact, a wave of white fire spread from Gideon’s blade, burning outward in a ring of flames that consumed Sebek’s green robes, and then a hideous roar drowned out the terrified cries of the horse as a red inferno swept over the man’s flesh. The rider screamed as the fire engulfed him.
Asha watched the horse slow to a trot, shivering and twitching, shaking its long brown head. In the saddle, a blackened skeleton was collapsing in upon itself, the arms and legs tumbling to the ground, the empty skull crashing down through the charred spine and ribs. The burnt bones smashed down into the road and shattered into dust.
Slowly, she let her gaze travel back along the road, past the melted gray remains of the once-golden sword, and up to Gideon. He stood with his back to her, his white blade still hissing and roaring in the empty air. And as she watched him, she thought she saw his shoulders shake and his left hand went up to his face.
But a moment later he pushed the lever and his blade vanished into the device on his arm. He turned, blinking, and smiled at her. “Are you all right?”
She nodded. “Are you?”
He nodded and cleared his throat loudly. He pointed at the riderless animal behind her. “Can I interest you in a free horse?”
A trickle of ash fell from the saddle.
Asha winced.
* * *
They cleaned the saddle and put Priya up on it. The horse was still sweating and snorting from its long run through the cedar forest, but the nun was small and light, and Asha could see and hear that the animal was more than strong enough to go on.
“Well, good-bye, and good luck,” she said to Gideon.
“Asha.” He gestured toward her face. “Can I see your ear? Please?”
“It’s nothing. It’s fine.” Asha ran her hand over her hair to ensure it covered the flesh in question.
“It’s not fine. There’s something in it, isn’t there?” He stepped closer. “A soul, or a bit of one, I think.”
Asha nodded. “I was bitten when I was a girl. But it’s fine. It even helps me in my work. And I do check it regularly. It hasn’t changed, not ever. It never gets any worse. I’m fine. Really.”
Gideon frowned. “If you say so. But if you ever want any help with it, there are people who know about these things.”
“You mean your courtesan in Damascus?”
He grimaced. “Yes, but I was thinking of Bashir’s Aegyptian friends. I’ve met them a few times. Strange people, but decent and helpful. If you ever want help with that ear, go to Alexandria. They’re hard to find, but with that ear you shouldn’t have much trouble tracking them down.”
She nodded. “Good to know.”
He hesitated, a pained squint in his eyes, but then it passed and he smiled. “All right then. Take care of yourselves, ladies.” He waved and stepped inside the airship. The pilot waved as well. Then the engine roared and the propellers droned, and the great silvery machine rose gracefully into the sky and swept off into the eastern clouds.
Asha took the reins of the horse and began walking up the road. She sighed. “Well, at least all of that is behind us.”
“Oh?” Priya smiled. “It sounds like there’s more of it ahead of us, assuming we’re still going west. Damascus. Alexandria. Immortals. Flaming swords.”
“Not flaming,” Asha said. “More like shining or glowing.”
“Ah.”
“No, I just meant I was glad to have that business with Sebek behind us. I’ve been hearing a strange soul-sound ever since we left Herat, and now we know it was that sword of his. I’m glad I won’t have to hear it anymore.”
“I see. Did Gideon’s sword make a similar sound?”
Asha frowned. “No. It didn’t. It didn’t make any sound at all.”
They passed through the village and continued west down the hill and through the fields, following the setting sun. The smell of the cedars faded, replaced by the aroma of dates. They were just about to cross a small stream when Asha stopped short and looked back over her shoulder. Slowly, she drew her hair back from her right ear.
A deep thrum echoed from the east.
Chapter 9
Asha stopped at a bend in the road and led the horse off into the tall grass overlooking the plain below. Up in the saddle, Priya stretched and yawned. “Why am I so tired? I was never this tired when I was walking all day.”
Asha shrugged. “If you prefer, I can ride and you can lead the horse across Syria.”
“Actually, I think we could both ride together. It’s not as though we have much baggage with us.”
Asha nodded and swung up into the saddle in front of her friend and took the reins. “We’re almost there, actually. I can see it.”
“What does it look like?”
The city of Damascus spread across the plain below, salting the earth with countless white houses and white temples and white palaces. In that sea of white there rose island after island of green, of towering trees studded with lemons, limes, grapefruits, and oranges. And spearing through the districts were long vineyards and arbors of grapes and olives, long reflecting pools between shining fountains, and broad avenues filled with market stalls beneath brightly colored awnings of red and blue and green.
The temples looked like marble forests, each one ringed by low walls and guarded by slender towers, and in their centers gleamed massive bronze domes. The castles stood here and there throughout the city, some squatting on low hilltops or looming over a bend in a river, some perfectly square and others drawing massive pointed stars through the surrounding neighborhoods with their shield walls.
And everywhere she looked, even from high on the road far away, Asha could see the great thronging masses of people streaming up and down the avenues inside the city, marching up and down the dusty highways leading into the city, and teeming across the verdant fields outside the city with their baskets and carts and animals.
Bells rang, echoing through the city streets, and a lone male voice rose in the distance, singing in low, mournful tones.
“Asha? What’s it like?”
“Oh, sorry. I was just trying to think of some way to describe it without incurring a lecture about something. It’s nice. The city looks nice.”
“Why would I lecture you?”
“I don’t know. Force of habit?”
Priya laughed. “I don’t mean to lecture you. I suppose that sometimes I just want to help you when I think you’re unhappy. And speaking of which, you’ve been very tense and terse over the last few weeks.” The nun’s tone grew as solemn as cold marble. “You’ve spoken rudely to many people on the road who have helped us. And let us not forget how you accused Gideon of being some sort of thief or assassin.”
“I apologized for that,” Asha said.
“Still. I had hoped that our journey into the west would carry you away from your past,
away from the things that seem to hang over you like a storm cloud. But here we are, having crossed mountains and deserts and forests, across whole empires, and you don’t seem to have lightened your soul at all.”
“What do you want me to do? Count beads? Recite sutras? Ask Buddha for peace of mind, for the child-like apathy to ignore the monstrous evils that we’ve seen in the past, and that we’re no doubt going to see more of in the future?”
“If that will help, then yes.”
Asha sighed and nudged the horse onward and they rejoined the march of farmers and tradesmen heading down to the white oasis of civilization below.
But as they reached the edge of the plain level with the city itself, Asha saw a surge of people flooding toward the road from the south, pouring down from the hills carrying their children and sacks full of food. She nudged the horse again into a brisk trot and hurried down the road to the dusty intersection where the southerners were joining the rest of the traffic.
“What’s happened?” Asha called out.
The people continued past without sparing a single glance for the women on horseback.
“You, sir!” Asha leaned down to catch a man’s shoulder. He squinted up at her. “What’s happening? What’s wrong?”
His eyes widened for a moment as he looked at her, but then his expression dimmed and he shook his head. “The Damascena. Have you seen the Damascena? Has she passed through here yet? Have you seen her?”
Asha could only shake her head and the man vanished into the crowd.
“What do you suppose this Damascena is?” Priya asked in her ear.
Asha shrugged. “A woman from Damascus, I suppose.”
“A warlord? Could they be fleeing from this Damascena?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t think so.” Asha leaned down and caught the attention of an older woman plodding along by herself. “Madam! Please tell us what’s happening.”
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