FIERCE: Sixteen Authors of Fantasy

by Mercedes Lackey

  Amalia drew in a nervous breath. “You’re right.”

  Taya felt that nothing could induce her to go down that dark hole, knowing the danger, but what else could she do? Wait outside until he came out? Not when Mandir was down there with him. “I’m going in.”

  She considered whether to light her way with a ball of fire or just descend into the darkness and hope Zash couldn’t find her any better than she could find him. She decided on the latter. A ball of fire would half blind her in that darkness, whereas Zash might use it to orient on her. She took a deep breath and moved toward the stairway.

  Amalia placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll go first,” she whispered. “If Zash is waiting with a dart, it’s better if he hits me with it rather than you. Your magic is stronger.”

  Thinking of Mandir and knowing that Amalia was doomed by Coalition law anyway, Taya let the girl step in front. Sunlight dimmed and cool air pricked her skin as they descended into the underground cellar. The stone steps were rough and unpolished under the soles of her feet, and they curved unexpectedly, rounding a corner. This diminished the light further, and soon she could see nothing at all. She laid a hand on Amalia’s shoulder so she could keep track of her in the darkness. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask Amalia how far down the staircase went, but making noise would be foolish. Instead she focused on making her footfalls as quiet as possible.

  Her hand on Amalia’s shoulder unexpectedly rose, and her foot landed hard on even ground where she’d expected another step downward. The impact jarred her teeth, but at least they’d found the end of the stairway. Amalia hesitated, as if uncertain which way to go. She moved to the right, hugging a stone wall. Taya followed.

  Suddenly Amalia was yanked forward, away from her. The girl gave a shriek and then was quiet.

  Taya spoke sharp words in the mother language, calling fire for illumination. The light appeared just in time to reveal someone diving toward her, someone huge. Not Zash, she realized. Bigger.

  Taya spoke again, calling a wall of fire between her and the attacker. He tried to stop, but his momentum was too great. His arm went straight into the fire, and he screamed. Then he shouted words in the mother tongue of his own, and she dismissed her fire completely. “Mandir?” she called into the darkness.

  “It’s me,” he gasped.

  She called fire again, a little globe that hung in midair, just so she could see who was where and how badly she’d injured her partner. Mandir was crouched on the dirt floor, clutching his arm. Amalia had risen to her feet and was standing silently with her back pressed against the wall. She looked all right. A fourth figure lay on the floor not far from Mandir, and that person didn’t look so good; he was quite still. Ignoring the fourth person for now, Taya went to Mandir’s side and tried to pull his arm away from where he cradled it against his chest. “Are you hurt? I’m so sorry.”

  “My fault,” he grunted. “I shouldn’t have rushed without looking. Didn’t think it was going to be you.”

  “Who were you expecting?”

  Mandir shrugged. Then he turned and looked at Amalia.

  “That’s Amalia, the jackal,” said Taya. “She helped me find you. Is that Zash on the floor?” She realized that Mandir was partially free. He’d managed to break both of the chains that held his arms, and one of the chains holding his ankles. That explained why he’d had so much freedom of movement in attacking her and Amalia.

  “That’s him, all right,” said Mandir, jerking his head toward the inert form.

  “Is he dead?”

  “No, he’s just got a few broken bones. Don’t worry, he’s not capable of doing any harm now. That woman is our jackal?”

  “I’ll explain later,” said Taya, who felt Mandir had some explaining to do as well. “Let me see your arm.”

  He released it from his body just a little, holding it protectively. He was definitely burned, but in the poor light she couldn’t tell the extent of the injury, and she didn’t want to summon more fire when he was already shrinking from the heat of her first.

  “Sit down,” said Taya.

  Mandir folded his legs and sat on the stone floor.

  Taya sat beside him, pressing her body against his. “Give me your arm.”

  He unfolded his arm and let her take it.

  She cradled it and spoke gentle words in the mother tongue, the words that called forth shy Lalan. Mandir’s arm began to glow faintly as if touched by moonlight, and Taya felt the peaceful, unworldly presence of the goddess.

  Mandir sighed, an indication that his pain was easing. Taya did not dare touch the wounded part of his arm, but in the dim light she could see that the discoloration of his skin was fading. The hair on that part of his forearm had burned away.

  The glow faded as Lalan departed.

  “What are you doing here?” said Mandir. “You weren’t supposed to come back; you were supposed to ride for the Coalition. I can take care of myself. See?” He showed her his wrists, still shackled but with only a couple of links of the chain still attached. The final broken link of each chain was twisted and malformed.

  “Did you melt them?”

  Mandir nodded. “Took me a while, and I had to wait for the kimat to wear off before I could start. I was working on that last one when you showed up.”

  “I couldn’t ride for the Coalition,” said Taya. “Zash told me he’d poisoned me with something that would kill me in three days if he didn’t give me the antidote.”

  Mandir stiffened. “What?”

  Amalia, still standing awkwardly against the wall, cleared her throat. “I’m pretty sure he was lying about that.”

  “Let’s get this chain off, and then I’ll have a chat with Zash about that poison.” He moved his left leg, and the chain rattled. “I’ve created a weak spot in the link here, but I’d only just started working on it.”

  Taya picked up the chain. It was still warm to the touch. She could see the weak spot where Mandir had called fire into it previously. Melting metal was harder than summoning fire. Calling fire to a torch or anything else flammable required only a brief call to Isatis. But metal would not burn on its own. A mage had to keep pouring her magic into it, and the temperatures required were much hotter than those needed to burn wood. “I’ll do it,” she said. Since she was a fire seer, Isatis responded better to her than to most Coalition ilittu; what might take Mandir hours, she could do in a few minutes.

  “Thank you,” he said, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the wall.

  Poor Mandir; he looked exhausted. How long had he been trapped here? He could have summoned water from the air once his magic had returned, but he probably hadn’t eaten in a while, especially if Zash had been out of commission and unable to feed him. Melting those chains would have taken a lot out of him.

  She pulled the chain taut. Fixing her attention on the weak spot, she called fire into the bronze link. The metal grew hot and turned red.

  It wasn’t enough; the metal was not yielding. She called more fire into the link.

  “Shall I help?” asked Mandir.

  “No. Lie there and rest.” The link went from red to orange, orange to yellow. Now she was getting somewhere. The link distorted, bulging at one end and growing narrow at the other. A drop of liquid metal fell to the ground and sizzled in the dirt, as if the chain wept teardrops of bronze.

  “Flood and fire,” whispered Amalia.

  Another drop fell, and another. Taya pulled harder on both ends of the chain. The superheated metal began to stretch.

  “Never seen someone do it that fast,” said Mandir. “You’ve almost got it.”

  The metal elongated ludicrously, like bread dough. Then, suddenly, she felt the chain give, and it parted. “Done,” said Taya, dropping the piece that attached to the wall. She kept hold of the other end, since it was still superheated and attached to Mandir. She watched the yellow fade to orange and then back to red. “Don’t move yet. I don’t want that hot end burning you. How did you captur
e Zash?”

  Mandir shrugged. “Nothing to it. He was a fool.”

  The chain returned to its customary dark gold color. She released it.

  Mandir got to his feet with a grunt of pain and moved toward the still figure on the ground. “Zash. What’s this about a three-day poison?”

  The inert body did not respond.

  Mandir kicked Zash savagely in the leg.

  Zash, suddenly awake, screamed and curled into a fetal position.

  Mandir roared, “What’s this about a three-day poison?”

  Clutching his leg, Zash spoke between sobbing breaths. “I poisoned...both of you...with it. If you want...antidote...must...heal me.”

  “He’s lying,” said Amalia. “There’s no three-day poison.”

  Mandir met Taya’s eyes with raised brows.

  “Amalia and I made a deal,” said Taya. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

  “Poisoned both of you,” gasped Zash. “Both going to die. If you want antidote...heal me...then let me go. I’ll send word with the location of the antidote.”

  “As if we’d believe that.” Mandir kicked him in the leg again. Zash screamed.

  “There’s no poison and no antidote,” said Amalia. “He’s making it up to save himself.”

  “I’ve never heard of a poison that takes three days to work,” said Mandir. “But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”

  “We certainly can’t let him go,” said Taya.

  “Agreed,” said Mandir. “I’m not inclined to heal him either.”

  “Only one day left before the poison takes effect,” croaked Zash.

  Mandir kicked him again. “No more words from you, zebu’s ass.”

  Chapter XLI

  Hrappa

  TAYA DRAPED ZASH OVER PEPPER’S saddle for the journey back to the residence. The man had a broken leg, a broken arm, and likely a few other broken bones as well. He couldn’t walk, and while Mandir might have had the strength to carry him, he clearly didn’t have the desire. Taya stood at the mare’s head and held her pace to a measured walk. Pepper arched her neck and stiffened her body; she got claustrophobic and anxious when she couldn’t stretch her limbs. But for all that Taya tried not to knock Zash about, every stride elicited a groan of pain.

  When they reached Zash’s house, Mandir dragged Zash off the horse and laid him on the floor. Then the three of them took the house apart, looking under beds and tables, dumping out jugs, and emptying shelves. When Amalia, with a cry of delight, found the key to Mandir’s manacles, they paused in their work to unshackle his wrists and ankles.

  Taya found her mission tablets and her missing vial of kimat beneath a blanket draped over a chair. The kimat was half gone—used up on her and Mandir, in those darts—but at least she knew definitively that Zash had been the one to steal it. Mandir discovered a jar of thin, clear liquid which he sniffed and identified as Echo. But even after searching the wine cellar and a cluttered storage room, they found nothing they could identify as a three-day poison or its antidote.

  “Because it doesn’t exist,” Amalia insisted.

  Taya hoped she was right, since it was her own life at stake. But short of searching the house over and over again, she could think of nothing more they could do about it.

  The trip back to Hrappa was slow, since they were still burdened with Zash. They reached the city gates half an hour before closing and proceeded into the city. At the Hall of Judgment, they spoke to the guards, and Kalbi came out to meet them.

  “Is the magistrate available?” asked Taya, uncertain whether she felt comfortable dealing with his son. She did not know Kalbi well, and was not certain whether she could trust him. But then, the magistrate himself was not trustworthy either.

  “The magistrate is very ill,” said Kalbi. “We think he may not last the night.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Taya.

  Kalbi’s gaze fell on Zash’s half-broken body draped over the horse. “What happened to him?”

  “Coalition justice,” said Mandir.

  “We need custody for Zashkalim until morning,” said Taya. “Do you have a strongroom for holding prisoners?”

  “Two of them.” Kalbi nodded toward the guards, who came forward and dragged Zash off the horse.

  “We need custody for this one, too,” said Mandir, taking Amalia by the arm.

  “What?” squeaked Amalia.

  Taya turned and shook her head. She didn’t want Amalia taken into custody; the girl had kept her end of the bargain and helped her find Mandir.

  Mandir pushed Amalia forward.

  “It’s not fair, I didn’t do anything,” cried Amalia. “I helped you!”

  “Mandir—” began Taya.

  He silenced her with a look of warning.

  “Is one of these people the jackal who killed my brother?” asked Kalbi.

  “We’ll make our findings known in the morning,” said Mandir.

  Kalbi nodded to another guard, who seized Amalia by the arm.

  “Taya, you promised you would help me!” cried Amalia.

  “We’ll work something out in the morning,” said Taya. “I swear it on the Mothers’ names.” But right after saying it, she regretted her oath. Could she really help this girl? Amalia had violated Coalition law, not once but multiple times. Taya bit her lip as the guards hauled her away.

  She was still staring at the space Amalia had been when Mandir took her gently by the hand. “Let’s talk.”

  She followed him numbly to the guesthouse. When they were inside, he shut the door. “What’s going on with the girl?”

  “I can’t kill her,” said Taya. “She came to me willingly. She came here, right to my door, and confessed everything. She didn’t kill all those people the magistrate claimed. She killed only one of them.” She related the story Amalia had told her that morning, and told him about her visits to Vella’s and Bodhan’s.

  Mandir listened impassively. When she was finished, he said, “Makes no difference. The girl has to die.”

  “I made a deal with her.” Taya gritted her teeth. She’d never expected to honor every provision of the deal—some of the girl’s demands were impossible—but she’d intended to honor as much as she could. Now that she faced the girl’s imprisonment and the death sentence that must follow in the morning, she couldn’t bear it. Amalia might deserve punishment of some sort, but not that.

  “You can’t honor an agreement you made with a jackal,” said Mandir. “When the Coalition finds out, they’ll kill her and you. Is that what you want?”

  “She killed one man, and it was because he was hurting people and nobody else was stopping him.”

  “Murder is murder.”

  Taya shook her head. She wasn’t so sure. “Besides, Amalia never meant to be a jackal. She wanted to join the Coalition when she first discovered her Gift, but Zash wouldn’t let her. He killed her parents to stop her from going.”

  “I know all this,” said Mandir. “It’s unfortunate, but it doesn’t change anything.”

  “You don’t understand,” said Taya. “Amalia is not the criminal here. Zash is.”

  “I do understand. I’m in perfect agreement with you about that,” said Mandir. “And I’m telling you it doesn’t matter. Coalition law says this woman has to die, and as a quradum and enforcer of the Coalition’s laws, I am duty-bound to carry out that sentence. I understand if you haven’t the stomach for it, but—”

  “It’s not right!” she cried. “Amalia shouldn’t die at all.”

  He advanced on her. “Do you have any idea what the Coalition will do to us if we let this woman go? Taya, it’s your life at stake here. Do you understand? That’s the only reason I’m willing to kill this poor girl: to save you. I saw you almost die once before, and I’m not going to let it happen again.”

  He stood over her with his fists clenched. If he were any other person—indeed, if he had been the Mandir she had known at Mohenjo Temple—she would have been terrified and calling to Isatis f
or her fire magic. Yet she was unafraid. Mandir was determined and forceful when it came to getting his way, but he wouldn’t hurt her. The old Mandir might have, but this one wouldn’t.

  She swallowed. “You’re hardly one to talk, when you’ve broken Coalition law already.” When he opened his mouth to protest, she cut him off. “The banana plants. Don’t tell me you didn’t do it. I know you did.”

  After what seemed an interminable silence, he said, “It’s not the same thing.”

  “It’s exactly the same thing, and do you think I don’t care? The Coalition might go easy on me; it’s my first offense, and I’m a fire seer. But you’ve had a Year of Penance already. They’ll burn you to death if they find out what you did.”

  “I thought you wanted me dead,” said Mandir.

  “Of course I don’t,” Taya snapped. “Maybe I did once, but that was a long time ago.”

  He let out a shaky breath. “I would have told you. But I thought you would turn me in.”

  “I would never have turned you in,” said Taya. “Not for helping a few farmers. What do you think I am?”

  Mandir regarded her with soft eyes. He did not answer.

  “According to Zash, I’m going to die tomorrow anyway,” said Taya, pulling out a chair and dropping heavily into it. “I might as well do a bit of good first.”

  “By letting this girl go?”

  “I can’t kill her, Mandir. I just can’t.”

  “Remember the flood?” said Mandir. “She tried to kill you.”

  “I forgive her for that.” Taya met his eyes. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve forgiven somebody for something that seemed unforgiveable at the time.”

  Mandir’s eyes misted. He went to the table and sat across from her. “Have you really forgiven me?”

  She nodded. “I have. And Mandir, I didn’t join the Coalition to become a bully and a thug. I don’t want to burn this girl to death. And if I’m going to die anyway—”

  “You’re not,” he said. “Amalia’s right about that. Zash made it up.”