FIERCE: Sixteen Authors of Fantasy

by Mercedes Lackey

  “If you like,” said Taya.

  The mare, always a glutton for attention, pressed her nose into the girl’s hands. Amalia hopped back with a startled, “Oh.” Recovering, she moved forward and touched the mare’s muzzle. Then she ran a hand down the sleek black neck. “If I join the Coalition, will I get a horse like this?”

  Taya’s heart sank. Amalia was never going to be part of the Coalition. “Well—she was given to me when I became an ilittum.”

  “Initiates don’t get horses?”

  “They’ve no need for them,” said Taya. “Initiates stay at the Temple.”

  “So I would get a horse after ten years of training, then?”

  “We’d better get going,” said Taya, vaulting lightly onto the mare’s back and offering Amalia an arm up.

  Amalia took her arm and raised her leg as if to mount, but then appeared stymied. She had no idea how to mount a horse.

  Taya suppressed a sigh; she didn’t have time to teach this girl basic horsemanship. She steered the mare to a stone wall and directed Amalia to climb up from there. As Amalia wriggled her way onto Pepper’s back, she accidentally kicked the mare in the ribs. Pepper hunched her back in offense, and Taya hissed a warning at the mare, taking up the reins to keep her from jumping out from under the two of them.

  Once Amalia was settled, Taya nudged the mare into a slow trot. Amalia gave a cry of surprise and started slipping off. Taya began to regret that she’d fetched the horse at all, and slowed Pepper to a walk.

  “Sorry,” said Amalia, straightening herself. “I’ll get the hang of it.”

  They headed into the artisan district, where Taya had no trouble finding Vella’s house. She could have closed her eyes and followed the aroma of baking bread.

  “Flood and fire, that smells good,” said Amalia as they approached.

  Taya slid off the mare and reached up to help Amalia down. The girl was underfed and weighed practically nothing. Taya had to keep reminding herself that Amalia was a jackal. She didn’t seem like a criminal at all; rather, she struck Taya as a vibrant but somewhat ignorant girl who’d had few opportunities and who longed, as so many girls did, for a better life. Ten years ago, Taya had been much like Amalia, giddy with the discovery of her Gift and the doors it would open for her. Could Taya have ended up in as much trouble as this girl was in now, if instead of her cooperative family she’d had Zash for a brother?

  Taya dreaded what lay ahead, when she would have to hold Amalia accountable for her crimes. But she couldn’t afford to tell her the truth just yet; she’d frighten the girl away. She pulled the reins over Pepper’s head and tugged gently downward to ground tie her. Then she headed toward the bakery door.

  Amalia hovered beside Pepper. “You’re just going to leave the horse here?”

  “She won’t go anywhere,” said Taya. “She’s ground tied.”

  “Oh,” said Amalia, sounding doubtful.

  “She’s trained to stand still,” explained Taya. “Have you ever known a dog trained to stay put when you tell it to? It’s like that.”

  Amalia’s eyes lingered on the mare. “Couldn’t she be stolen?”

  “No one steals from the Coalition,” said Taya. Well, except for Zash, but he seemed to be an exception in many respects.

  Vella, the baker woman, answered the door. She smiled at Amalia, whom she clearly recognized and liked, but her smile faded when she saw Taya in her Coalition green and silver. “Have you come to buy bread?” she asked nervously.

  “Yes,” said Taya. “And to ask you some more questions.”

  Vella’s face tightened, but she ushered them inside. Taya looked over the loaves drying on the shelf and bought two of the nut- and date-filled ones. She handed one of them to Amalia, who took a huge bite at once.

  “I know about your son,” said Taya.

  Vella’s eyes did not meet hers. “What do you know?”

  “He ran away with Bodhan’s daughter Narat.”

  Vella went to a lump of dough which sat on a floured board. She dipped her hands in the flour, brushed off the excess, and began to knead. “Narat is dead.”

  “She’s not, and I think you’ve known that for a while,” said Taya. “Bodhan falsely reported that she had died in a jackal-induced flood.”

  Vella’s eyes were on the dough. “If he did this thing, you should ask him about it, not me.”

  Amalia choked on a piece of flatbread and pounded her chest. She took a moment to recover, then swallowed and spoke. “Vella, this Coalition woman is trying to help. I’m sure Bodhan said he’d destroy your business if you spoke a word about what happened, but if he lied about a magical crime, he broke Coalition law.”

  Vella eyed Amalia. “The Coalition comes and goes, but Bodhan will always be here in Hrappa.”

  “He’s harmed so many people,” said Amalia.

  Vella said nothing, kneading the dough with unnecessary vigor.

  “Perhaps I can offer you something for your assistance,” said Taya.

  “I don’t know what you offer or what assistance you believe I can give you,” said Vella.

  “If I can come up with evidence that Bodhan broke Coalition law, I can use that to bargain with him. I can forgive his Coalition crime in exchange for his forgiving all debts owed to him by the townsfolk of Hrappa.”

  “You see?” put in Amalia. “She can help.”

  “I am not one of those who owes Bodhan money,” said Vella. But her kneading of the bread slowed, and she looked thoughtful.

  “Your son and Bodhan’s daughter—did they marry?” asked Taya.

  Vella shrugged.

  “It seems to me that if they did, Bodhan should properly acknowledge and dower his daughter. Don’t you think?”

  “Bodhan will never do that,” said Vella.

  “You’d be surprised what people will do to avoid trouble with the Coalition.”

  Vella dropped the lump of dough. “If Bodhan has broken Coalition law, then carry out your Coalition justice. It is no business of mine.”

  “I can’t do a thing without evidence,” said Taya.

  Vella frowned, looking torn. It was clear to Taya that she wanted to help but was afraid of retribution. Finally she said, “What evidence do you need?”

  “Some sort of proof that Bodhan knew his daughter was alive and had not died in a flood. Proof that he knowingly lied to the Coalition.”

  “Wait here.” Vella left for a back room. When she returned, she was carrying a small, dusty tablet. She handed it to Taya. “There is your evidence.”

  One word at a time, Taya labored her way through the writing on the tablet. It was a letter to Vella from her son, who had emigrated to the neighboring town of Mosand and begun a fledgling bakery of his own. She glanced up at Vella. “So you did know his whereabouts.”

  Vella folded her arms.

  Taya read on, conscious of Vella’s and Amalia’s impatience. In the second paragraph, the son referred to his wife, Narat, who was helping him with the bakery, and who he suspected might be pregnant.

  This letter was perfect. It was exactly what she needed to bargain with Bodhan. “They did run away together.”

  “I have said nothing,” said Vella.

  “Of course. You have told me nothing at all.” Taya slipped the tablet into her pocket.

  Taya pulled up Pepper in front of the now-familiar sign, Fine Cotton Cloth & Indigos. After dismounting, she took a deep breath and stood straight and tall, remembering that she was no longer a simple farmer girl; she was a Coalition representative. She wore the green and silver, and this lent her an air of authority that she would never have possessed on her own.

  As she walked up the steps to Bodhan’s palace of a home, the doorman held out a hand to stop her. “Bodhan is meeting with a buyer. I could get you on his schedule for tomorrow—”

  Taya did not slow her stride. “This is urgent business. The buyer can wait.”

  “Lady—ilittum—” the doorman stammered as she walked around h
im. “You cannot go in.”

  She glanced at the doorman’s belt to see if he carried a weapon, and was almost disappointed when she saw there was no dagger hilt she’d have to call fire into to protect herself. She opened the door.

  The doorman leapt forward, wedging his body into the opening. “Lady—”

  “Move,” said Taya, summoning a thin sheet of fire between the two of them.

  He jumped back, his face ashen.

  Taya beckoned to Amalia and headed inside.

  She found Bodhan in the drawing room, seated at a table and talking with two other men. She aimed an unfriendly glance at each of Bodhan’s companions. “Leave. I have urgent business with this man.”

  Bodhan stood. “Taya, what an unexpected pleasure—”

  “Leave,” she repeated.

  The men glanced at her green and silver. One of them stuffed some tablets into a satchel, and they departed.

  Bodhan glared, all pretense of courtesy gone. “If you had any respect for my business, you would not...” He trailed off as he spotted Amalia.

  “I have wonderful news for you,” said Taya. “I’ve found your daughter.”

  Bodhan’s eyes were on Amalia. “You are mistaken. This is not my daughter.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I know where your daughter is.”

  “Kana is not missing.”

  “I mean Narat. She’s alive and well, married and living in the city of Mosand.” Taya held out the tablet, close enough that he could peer at it but not so close that he could snatch it out of her hands.

  Bodhan leaned in to read. After a moment, he remembered to act surprised. “Flood and fire! My daughter has been alive all this time?”

  Taya put the tablet back in her pocket. “You’ve known where she was from the beginning. You falsely reported her drowned because you were angry at her defiance and shamed by her low marriage.”

  Bodhan jabbed a finger at Taya. “Do you have any idea the trials I’ve endured, with these new dyes and the falling price of indigo?” He rose and began to pace. “My daughter sneaked out of the house to meet her lover on an island in the middle of the Lioness, and if I feared her drowned by a jackal known to be operating in the area, it was only because, as a concerned parent, I could do nothing less.”

  “You don’t care about Narat,” said Taya. “You care about your personal fortune and nothing else. You dragged me and my partner out here when you had no evidence on which to base your accusations. That, sir, is a crime.”

  “Of course I had evidence,” said Bodhan. “Narat was last seen near the river. A jackal had already killed the magistrate’s son, so it stood to reason—”

  “It did not stand to reason,” said Taya. “That was wild conjecture. Your accusation was false, and as a representative of the Coalition, I have the right to take action.”

  Bodhan sobered and took a seat. “What sort of action?”

  “I am assessing you a fine of fifty gold sticks.”

  Bodhan’s mouth fell open. “Fifty gold sticks! Are you mad?”

  “Payable immediately,” Taya added.

  Bodhan leapt to his feet. “Heartless thug! Did I not explain to you how my competitors have hoarded the secrets of dyeing cloth? My business is in tatters! I cannot pay this exorbitant fine.”

  “I’m willing to consider an alternative to payment,” said Taya.

  His eyes narrowed.

  “A personal favor,” continued Taya, “for which my partner and I might be willing to forgive your crime against the Coalition.”

  “What is this personal favor?”

  “You have made a number of loans to landowners in Hrappa. These loans were attached to contracts that required the borrowers to farm cotton for you and sell it to you at below-market prices, making it impossible for them ever to pay the loans back.”

  “How am I to compete against the other cloth merchants if I have to pay excessive rates for my base materials?” sputtered Bodhan. “You will ruin me!”

  Taya hesitated. Would she really ruin him if she took those contracts away? Then she thought of the starving farmers and decided it didn’t matter. “If you want your crime and thus the fine forgiven, you will forgive these loans, every single one of them.”

  Bodhan waved a hand. “I forgive them.”

  “In writing,” she said. “And you will also acknowledge and dower your runaway daughter.”

  Bodhan’s eyes looked like they would pop from their sockets. “You will destroy me!”

  Taya shrugged. “Or you could pay the fifty gold sticks.”

  Bodhan glared at her. He lowered his voice. “You know how to create trouble. But you’re not the only one. I can create trouble, too, if I choose. Every banana plant in Hrappa was afflicted with blight, and now they’re all healed. How do you suppose that came about? Healing plants or animals without the proper tithe is a Coalition crime too.”

  Taya shrugged off the threat. “I hear there’s a jackal in town.”

  Bodhan’s eyes were full of hate. “Get me a tablet.”

  Chapter XL

  Hrappa

  “OUCH, EASE UP,” SAID TAYA as Amalia’s fingers dug into her flesh. They were cantering across the floodplains toward Zash’s estate. Poor Amalia, terrified by the motion of the horse, was clinging desperately to her back.

  “Sorry.” Amalia relaxed her hold.

  Pepper’s ears were flat against her mane in disapproval. She didn’t generally mind carrying extra weight, but a stiff rider who didn’t follow her motion was something else entirely. Taya gave the mare a sharp kick, driving her on. There was no time to teach Amalia how to ride, nor could they take this journey at a walk. They had to reach Mandir before Zash did him any more harm. “Is there an approach to his estate other than the main road?”

  “No,” said Amalia. “But when Zash lies in wait for someone, he does so from his window. We can avoid being surprised by not going near the house.”

  They reached the base of the path that led up to the estate. “Can we avoid being seen?”

  “If he’s watching the road, no.”

  Taya slowed Pepper to a trot for the ascent. Pepper, still annoyed by her second rider but generally a willing animal, threw herself into the work, huffing as she hauled them up the rocky path. As they reached the peak, Taya slowed the mare to a walk.

  Zash’s house appeared before them, looking deceptively peaceful with its palm fronds dipping and bowing in the wind. Taya’s stomach fluttered as she glanced at the window nearest the door, presumably where he had lain in wait for her and Mandir the last time they’d been here. He was not there, or at least not visible. “Which way toward Mandir?”

  Amalia pointed toward the banana fields.

  As Taya turned Pepper into the banana fields, one part of the mystery still nagged at her. Amalia had explained almost everything, but there was one piece missing. Who had healed the banana plants in town? Both Bodhan and Amalia had assumed she had done it. But she hadn’t, not unless she’d been drugged somehow and didn’t know she was doing it. That didn’t seem likely. It had to have been someone with Coalition training. So who could it have been?

  Pepper stepped lightly through the banana plants, picking up her feet to avoid stray leaves and suckers. The plants were in beautiful condition, as lovely as yesterday when Taya had healed them, but the workers were still missing. Perhaps Zash had sent them home while he took care of his dirty business. Or could he have murdered them all, and disposed of the bodies? Taya shook her head. She couldn’t believe she’d actually liked that man. In only a week’s time in Hrappa, she’d made an almost complete about-face. She’d gone from liking Zash and hating Mandir to the opposite, hating Zash and liking Mandir. Maybe more than liking Mandir.

  Taya blinked. She knew who had healed the banana plants.

  I learned how to fill that hole by helping people, Mandir had said.

  Now she understood why he’d discouraged her from looking at the banana plants and had talked her out of report
ing the incident to the Coalition elders. He didn’t want the Coalition to know, because it was his crime.

  At once, her mind rebelled. The thought was ludicrous. Mandir, her onetime Mohenjo bully, had risked his life to help some farmers he barely knew? And yet it could be nobody else.

  Why had he not just told her? She would not have reported him. They had both been poor farmers as children. It was hard to watch other farming families go hungry when they could, at so little cost to themselves, make a difference in those families’ lives. Now that she thought about it, it shamed her that she had not healed the plants herself. What a thought! In this situation, Mandir had been kinder and braver than herself.

  “Stop here,” said Amalia.

  Taya halted the mare.

  “See ahead?”

  Taya peered through the plants. In front of them was the clearing with the burned-out house. “Zash showed me this before.”

  “But you didn’t find what I’m about to show you.” Amalia slid off Pepper with a grunt—a virgin rider, she was going to be sore tomorrow—and approached the building.

  Taya bit her lip at the sight of the girl out in the open where anyone could see her. What if Zash was hiding in the wreckage? She dismounted, ground tied Pepper, and circled around to approach the building from the opposite direction. She and Amalia had a numbers advantage, at least, and they both had magic. And by approaching from opposite sides, they could not easily be surprised.

  Across the burned-out husk of a building, Amalia stiffened.

  Taya froze and glanced around for danger. She saw nothing. “What’s wrong?”

  “The trapdoor’s open,” called Amalia.

  “What trapdoor?”

  Amalia pointed at the ground.

  Taya picked her way through the maze of fallen rocks and charred fragments to where Amalia stood. There was indeed a trapdoor in the middle of the floor. Its wooden covering had been removed and set aside, and a crude stone staircase led down into darkness.

  “If it’s open, Zash must be down there right now,” Amalia whispered.

  Taya stared at the opening. “We haven’t been exactly quiet. He’ll know we’re here.” She shivered, thinking about Zash waiting for them in that blackness below, with eyes better adjusted to the dark than theirs.