FIERCE: Sixteen Authors of Fantasy

by Mercedes Lackey

  “We don’t know for sure.” She choked as her throat tightened.

  In an instant, Mandir was up, dragging her out of the chair, and pulling her into his arms. “It’s all right,” he crooned, stroking her hair. “You’re not going to die, and I’ll figure out something to do about Amalia, I promise. If you’re certain we can’t kill her, then we won’t.”

  “But what can we do?” They were trapped. They couldn’t kill the girl, and yet Mandir was right; the Coalition expected them to do it and would punish them if they didn’t.

  “Right now I want you to get some sleep,” said Mandir. “You’re exhausted, and we don’t have to think about this until morning.”

  Taya nodded but did not move. She was reluctant to leave the warmth of his arms. She looked up at him, drinking in the sight of his warm gaze, observing for the first time the slight imperfections in the red tattoos beneath his eyes. He was not a god, not a prince. He was just a man, and she liked him. Maybe she even loved him. What a thought, her and Mandir.

  He bent down and pressed his lips to hers. It startled her at first—kissing was not something she had much experience with—but he was gentle, and she decided she liked it. She parted her lips to show that he was welcome, and after a moment she began to reciprocate.

  He released her with a sigh of contentment. “Go to bed and get some rest. No matter what happens tomorrow—I love you, Taya.”

  Chapter XLII

  Hrappa

  IN THE MORNING, MANDIR SENT for Rasik and had him bring breakfast. Now that they had Zash in custody, he and Taya didn’t need to worry anymore about poisoned food. He ate alone, lingering over his flatbread, goat cheese, and bananas, thinking about Taya and the young jackal she couldn’t bear to kill. Perhaps it would be best all around if he went to the Hall of Judgment this morning and carried out the sentence on his own. That would spare Taya any involvement in the gruesome task while making sure she didn’t break the most sacred of Coalition laws.

  She’d be furious with him, of course. That part made his stomach turn. He’d worked hard to earn her good opinion—he’d even kissed her last night, and felt her kiss him back!—and he did not want to squander that good opinion now.

  Still, better Taya should be angry at him than condemned to death for breaking Coalition law. He was fairly certain the Coalition would look the other way when it came to her healing Zash’s trees. She’d been forced to do so, after all, and the Coalition valued Taya. They desperately needed their handful of fire seers. But they would never tolerate her letting a jackal go free. The Coalition survived by having a monopoly on magic. They were fanatical about stomping out unauthorized magic use. If he and Taya let Amalia go, the Coalition would declare them rogue and have them hunted down and killed as jackals themselves.

  He sighed. Why did Taya have to make a friend of the girl?

  He’d made up his mind: he would go to the Hall of Judgment and execute Amalia. Taya might never forgive him, but at least she wouldn’t be in trouble with the Coalition, and she’d be spared the agony of having to watch the girl die. Mandir could carry that burden better than she; his soul was stained enough already.

  He shaved and dressed, lingering longer than he should out of distaste for the task that lay ahead. Finally he set out from the guesthouse and headed down the dusty road.

  At the Hall of Judgment, he sent for and spoke to Rasik. “I need Amalia.”

  Rasik nodded and disappeared into the building.

  “Wait!” called a voice behind him.

  Flood and fire. He turned and saw Taya running up the steps, her clothes flapping about her in her mad rush, her hair sticking out of its headdress. She reached the top of the steps and halted. “You can’t do this without me.”

  “Go back to the guesthouse,” he said. “It will be easier on you—”

  “Easier? What are you planning to do?”

  “What has to be done,” said Mandir.

  She shook her head. “We can’t do that.”

  “You can’t. But I can.”

  “Mandir—” She stopped short as Rasik came out of the front doors, holding Amalia by the arm.

  “Thank you,” Mandir said to Rasik. He seized the girl by the wrist and dragged her down the steps.

  “What’s going on?” Amalia cried, trying to wrench her arm out of his grip.

  Taya hurried to his side. “You said we’d talk about this. You haven’t the authority to act on your own. We’re a team, and besides, I outrank you.”

  Amalia tried to peel his fingers off her wrist. “Let go. What’s going on?”

  Turning to Taya, Mandir sighed. “All right, we’ll talk about it.”

  He went with Taya to her guesthouse, dragging Amalia behind him. The girl had stopped fighting and came willingly enough, though he could feel that she was tense and frightened.

  Once they were inside and the door closed, Amalia turned to Taya. “We had a deal.”

  Taya grimaced. “The truth is—”

  “She can’t keep that deal,” said Mandir, knowing Taya would have trouble breaking the bad news as bluntly as it needed to be broken. “It’s against the law. Coalition policy says you have to die.”

  “What?” shrieked Amalia. “But I never wanted to be a jackal. I was forced! I want to join the Coalition!”

  “You can’t,” he said shortly.

  “Mandir!” protested Taya.

  “Why kill me?” cried Amalia. “It was Zash who did everything. Zash forced me to become a jackal. He killed our parents. He killed Jaina. He poisoned you—”

  “Zash did not do everything,” said Mandir. “You killed Hunabi. And you tried to kill Taya as well.”

  Amalia began to cry.

  Taya turned to him. “We haven’t told anyone that she’s the jackal, have we?”

  “Not yet.”

  “So what if Zash is the jackal?”

  Mandir glared at her. “He’s not.”

  “No, listen.” Taya spoke rapidly, stepping forward so she could be heard over Amalia’s sobs. “We have to kill Zash anyway. Once he’s dead, no one will know he wasn’t magical.”

  “Half the town already knows Amalia was the jackal,” said Mandir. “The peasant farmers sheltered and protected her.”

  “If they sheltered her from Zash and Bodhan and the magistrate, they’ll shelter her from the Coalition. Why would they say anything to bring her harm? She’s a hero to them.”

  “They might say something—you never know—and Amalia is still magical,” said Mandir. “If we blame Zash for everything and execute him, we’ll still have a jackal at large—” He stopped as he realized what Taya was getting at.

  “Kimat,” said Taya.

  “Get the bottle from my guesthouse.” The half vial they’d recovered from Zash’s plantation wouldn’t be enough.

  Taya ran out the door into the courtyard.

  Amalia sniffled and wiped her eyes. “What are you two suggesting?”

  “We’ve found a way out,” said Mandir. “You won’t like it. But it’s better than the alternative.”

  Taya ran back in, clutching the ceramic vial. She showed it to Amalia. “This is kimat. If you drink the whole vial, it will destroy your magic.”

  Amalia recoiled. “Why would I do that?”

  “Do you want to live or not?” snapped Mandir.

  “Here’s what happened,” said Taya. “Listen carefully, because it’s the story you’ll need to know by heart and tell everyone if you want the Coalition to leave you alone. When Zash developed his magical Gift, he chose not to join the Coalition—”

  Amalia broke in. “But Zash has no magical Gift—”

  “Listen,” said Taya. “Yes, he did. That’s the story we’re telling. You threatened to report him, so he locked you up and declared you mad. You escaped and went into hiding. Later, Zash used his magic to murder Hunabi. He wrote the threatening letter to the magistrate in an attempt to have his loan from Bodhan forgiven. Then he burned your house, claiming you ha
d been killed by the jackal, so that he could cover up evidence of his mistreatment of you and deflect suspicion. Later, when Mandir and I closed in on him, he became desperate and turned his magic on us.”

  Mandir frowned. He didn’t like it, but the story was reasonably sound. “We’ll have to get all the details straight before we write up the rest of our mission report.”

  Amalia sagged in his arms. “I don’t want to lose my magic,” she sobbed. “I want to join the Coalition.”

  Taya came and took her hand. “That’s not an option. But this option isn’t so terrible. You’re Zash’s heir, are you not? He has no other family, so when he dies, you’ll inherit a healthy banana plantation with no blight and no debt. You’re a good woman, and the farmers in this town regard you highly. When they learn that their loans have been forgiven, they’ll revere you even more. You may not have your magic any longer, but I think you’ll have a nice life nonetheless.”

  Amalia sniffled.

  “Wouldn’t you prefer that to a death sentence?” Taya added.

  Amalia struggled to her feet and fought to regain control of her arms. “Let go of me.”

  Mandir glanced at the firmly closed door and ascertained that if she ran, he and Taya could reach her before she got out. He released her.

  “Give me that,” said Amalia, reaching for the vial of kimat.

  Taya placed it in her hand.

  Amalia removed the stopper, and, with trembling hands, raised it to her lips. She drank it down, shaking it to make sure she got the last drops. Finally she handed the vial back to Taya. “It’s done.”

  Taya pulled her into a hug and held her as she cried.

  Taya stared at the broken man lying in the dirt. The guards had carried Zash out of the Hall of Judgment and laid him in the street. Zash’s chest still rose and fell, but his breaths were shallow. He seemed barely to have survived the night. Taya pitied him, but only insofar as she detested human suffering of any kind. This man had killed his own parents, destroyed his sister’s hopes of joining the Coalition, and murdered an innocent farm woman. He had drugged Taya twice, abducted her, stolen from her, and probably had intended to rape her. This man deserved whatever fate the Coalition chose to deal out.

  Back in the strongroom, Mandir had administered the customary dose of kimat given to jackals, pinching Zash’s nose and forcing him to swallow. But it was fakery. Zash did not need kimat, and they didn’t have enough left to dose him with anyway. Instead, Mandir had given him Echo, which would dull his mind and numb his pain.

  “Time to get this over with,” said Mandir. He stepped forward.

  She followed him. “We’ll do it together.”

  He placed a hand on her arm to stay her and shook his head. “I’m the quradum and you’re the investigator. This is my job.”

  Taya swallowed. Once, she’d have thought Mandir would enjoy the role of Coalition enforcer, that he would take pleasure in killing the organization’s enemies. Now that she knew him better, she understood that he did not enjoy it at all; rather, he acted as a quradum because he could. He’d been surrounded by darkness all his life. What was a little more? He could wallow in darkness and survive it. Now she wondered what price he paid for it.

  A crowd of onlookers formed a ring around them.

  In a deep, authoritative voice, Mandir addressed them. “Townsfolk of Hrappa, we are agents of the Coalition, sent to investigate and prosecute magical crimes. Since the Accords of Let, all magic is restricted to approved Coalition use. This man, Zashkalim isu Ikkarum, used unlawful magic outside of the Coalition’s authority, operating as a jackal for selfish ends.”

  “No,” croaked Zash from the dirt. “Not me.”

  Mandir ignored him and continued. “When Zash’s sister observed his magic and realized he was using it illegally, she protested, and Zash responded by locking her up and telling everyone she’d gone mad. When she escaped, he covered for her loss by setting the house on fire and claiming she’d been murdered.

  “When his debts got out of control, Zash murdered the magistrate’s son and threatened to murder the other son if his debt was not forgiven in court. Then Zash compounded his crimes by murdering Jaina, an innocent farm girl who’d witnessed his murder of Hunabi. Later, in desperation, he summoned an illegal flood in an attempt to kill my partner, and he poisoned and kidnapped both of us.”

  Mandir stepped away from Zash. “Let this be a lesson to any who would flout Coalition law.” He gestured, and Zash erupted in flames.

  Some of the onlookers backed away and screamed, but Zash did not scream at all. He was half dead already, and the Echo had numbed him further. He simply burned, like a lifeless piece of meat.

  Great Mother, Taya prayed, I promised you the blood of the unjust. Today I fulfill that promise.

  The flames pulsed yellow in acknowledgment. Taya felt sick. She ran her eyes over the crowd. Some watched Mandir while others stared at Zash. Some looked disgusted, others horrified.

  Would this be her life as a Coalition investigator, burning people to death and terrifying townspeople?

  The flames were dying. Zash no longer resembled a human being, but a blackened shell. Taya swallowed and tasted ashes.

  Mandir took her arm. “Let’s go home.”

  Taya’s head began to ache less than an hour later, and when the pain continued for the rest of the day she worried secretly that the three-day poison might be taking effect. Which maybe she deserved, after the things she’d done. She and Mandir spent the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon writing up new mission tablets. She dictated while Mandir did the writing. Rasik brought them lunch, but Taya wasn’t hungry.

  When they finished the tablet work, Taya decided she had enough loose ends to take care of that they should wait until morning to leave Hrappa. The Coalition had sent Piru, the pack elephant, to bring back Hrappa’s tax payment, so she made arrangements for that with Kalbi, the acting magistrate, as his father was unconscious and near death. Then she spent time in the stable, rubbing the elephant’s ears and brushing Pepper until her coat shone. It was calming work, a healthy labor that took her mind off the morning’s horrors. She and Mandir had killed a man today, called bloodthirsty Isatis down upon him and watched while the Fire Mother ate him alive. Every time Taya closed her eyes, she saw his body in the dirt.

  She didn’t feel much better about destroying Amalia’s magic.

  She returned to her guesthouse after dark to find her dinner waiting for her. The smell of it turned her stomach.

  She ignored it and went to bed, but sleep eluded her. How could she do this, week after week, year after year? Leaving diseased plants unhealed because the farmers had no gold—and those were only plants. What if next time it was a sick animal or a sick person that she could easily heal but wasn’t allowed to because of the Coalition rules? That would be worse. She didn’t feel too guilty about executing Zash, since he truly was a murderer, but what about the Amalias of the world, which the Coalition demanded she exterminate?

  She found herself walking out the door and across the courtyard to Mandir’s house for reasons she did not fully understand and had no intention of analyzing. She hesitated before knocking—it was late enough that he might be asleep—but she decided she was desperate enough to wake him.

  “Yes?” came his muffled voice through the door.

  “It’s me.”

  “Come in.”

  She opened the door, but didn’t enter. She hovered in the doorway, uncertain now what she wanted from him or why she’d come. In the darkness, she could just make out his form on the bed.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked softly.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Can’t sleep?”

  “No.”

  “I wasn’t sleeping either,” said Mandir.

  There was a lump in her throat; she forced her words around it. “Today was a hard day.” Also, she could be dead by morning, if Zash had told the truth about the three-day poison. She found hersel
f strangely resigned to that fate.

  “Would it help if you had company?” asked Mandir.

  Taya hesitated. It would help, but what exactly was he suggesting? She wanted his presence, but she didn’t want to sleep with him. Not in the sense of having sex.

  “Tell me what you want,” said Mandir.

  Taya took a couple of steps forward, letting the door close behind her. “Would it be too odd if I wanted...” She took a deep breath. “Could I just lie there in bed with you?”

  “Sleep with me?” asked Mandir.

  “Yes. Just sleep.”

  “You don’t want anything else to happen?”

  She swallowed. “No.”

  “Then it won’t. Stop hovering and get over here.”

  She headed toward him. There was a rustle of bedsheets as he scooted over and made room, raising the blanket to invite her in. She slipped under the covers, and his great arms captured her, pulling her close. She turned in his grip, placing her back against his chest and tucking her head under his chin. She sighed with relief, fully cocooned in blankets and Mandir.

  “Feel any better?” he murmured.

  She choked back a sob. “I don’t know. I don’t know about the Coalition. I thought I would love this job. Now I’m not so sure.”

  “Today was a hard day,” said Mandir. “They will not all be hard days.”

  “I don’t know if we even did the right thing. Killing Zash, destroying Amalia’s magic. And we’ve broken so many Coalition laws ourselves!”

  “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

  “It’s more than that.” Taya shivered. “I feel so grateful to the organization for what they’ve given me. But I’m not sure it’s right what they ask of us. What we do for them.”

  “To be honest, I’m not sure about that either.” He tightened his grip around her.

  Taya closed her eyes. Growing up on a farm in a large family, she’d never slept alone. She’d always piled into a communal bed with her sisters, and when they had guests over, she shared that bed with her brothers too. When frightened, she’d always had someone to nestle with. That had been one of the hardest adjustments for her to make when she’d arrived at Mohenjo, having to sleep alone all the time. Sure, she didn’t have people kicking her in the middle of the night, or snoring, or rolling over and hogging the blanket, but sleeping by oneself was lonely.