Shadowbound

by Carrie Summers

  “Her name’s Maajidi.” I squeezed the dagger hilt.

  “Do you think it’s possible?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “We’re . . . family. The affinity probably extends to you.”

  Family. Even though I’d forgiven her—mostly, anyway—for abandoning us, I still found the word hard to say. She might be my mother, but I just couldn’t put her in the same category as Da and Jaret. I suspected it would probably always be that way. But seeing the way her face lit when I called her my family, I hoped I could manage to love her someday. At least a little. No matter what wrongs she’d done before, she was doing her utmost to make up for them.

  We turned the corner onto the street that ran closest to Nan’s, and I sighed in relief. Her cottage was unharmed, the door securely closed, drapes drawn over unbroken windows. A small curl of smoke drifted from the chimney. Ordinarily, I would stop to check on her. But not until I finished delivering my condolences.

  “Do you know the way?” Mother asked.

  “Jet said a man will meet me at the edge of the strip.”

  I thought about what Jet’s messenger had told me regarding the lost wardens. They’d been trapped in a scuffle against both mercenaries and House guards. One had died on the street, and the other had succumbed overnight despite the healers’ attempts to save him. Both men had been husbands. One left two children behind.

  Mother’s face was somber, her voice low. “The collectors kill more people than anyone admits. They go too far trying to extract the tax. When someone is reported as missing, we all know what really happened.”

  I shook my head. “I appreciate what you’re saying, but it doesn’t change anything. If not for me, Aronek Kanit and Bur Troanevi would have woken up alive this morning. Maybe the tax collectors would have killed them another day, another year. But last night was on me. I can’t make it better, but I can take responsibility.”

  She sighed. “I shouldn’t try to make you feel better with empty reassurances. It’s hard for a mother to see her child hurting. But I’m proud of you, Lilik. So proud.”

  As am I. You are . . . Well, you know how I feel, Tyrak said.

  I nodded. I knew what both of them felt about me. And down inside, even if I had moments of doubt, I believed I could live up to their respect. But that didn’t change the task that lay ahead. Jaw clenched, I put one foot in front of the other.

  At the street marking the edge of the strip, I spotted one of Jet’s men two corners down. He noticed me and came at a brisk walk.

  “Councilor.” He seemed unsure whether to bow, salute, or simply shake hands.

  “Thanks for meeting me,” I said. “Which one is first?”

  “Aronek Kanit’s wife. She’s close.”

  The warden turned on his heels and led off into the barracks strip. After a few hundred paces, he headed up a dark stairwell and knocked at the door for a second-story room.

  The dead man’s wife answered, face tear-streaked. When she spotted me, she slammed the door.

  Guilt slapped me like a breaking wave. I’d at least hoped for the chance to tell her how much her husband’s bravery meant to everyone. But I wasn’t the bereaved one here. I closed my eyes while I controlled my emotions, remembering how I’d felt on Ioene when Peldin spoke to me after Heiklet’s death. How much angrier would I have felt if she’d been my sister rather than a close friend?

  I dropped my walls, reaching for the dead man’s spirit. Hello? Arokek? Only silence answered my thought. Maybe I could try again later, after his wife had a chance to grieve in peace. Swinging my backpack off a shoulder, I pulled out the first of two packets of coins I’d quickly bundled and left it in front of her door.

  “I’m deeply sorry,” I called through the door. The money wouldn’t bring back her husband, but it would make things easier for a while.

  Swallowing, I turned to the warden. “And the other?”

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to deliver your regrets to the family? It might be easier.”

  “It’s not about easy,” I said. “They need to know the sacrifices mean something.”

  You sure that’s the whole explanation? Tyrak asked. You aren’t just punishing yourself as a way to get rid of your guilt? Because it doesn’t work that way.

  I considered his words. Though he hadn’t accused me outright, the hidden meaning was there. Was I martyring myself, thinking that could absolve me for decisions that ended in the men’s deaths?

  No, I said. I need to do this because I’m their leader. I don’t expect thanks or forgiveness, but I hope someday the families will look back and realize their loved ones died for something worthwhile. For someone who understood the sacrifices she was asking for.

  As we descended the stairs, Tyrak slipped from the dagger and surrounded me, briefly, with the sense of his body. Warm and steady, he walked within and around me, before retreating to the bounds of the dagger.

  I’m here for you, he said.

  Outside, the alley was quiet. Unlike the other parts of the slums where the damage was limited to homes and possessions, the barracks strip had lost people. I felt eyes on me while I followed the warden deeper into the neighborhood but kept my spine straight. Things would probably get much worse before they got better.

  “Is Jet down here?” I asked. While we were moving through the streets, I’d come up with an idea for responding to the Ulstats. The proposed time for me to meet with them was fast approaching—the sun would reach its high point within a couple hours. I couldn’t allow them to take me hostage, but I could still keep a dialog open.

  “He hasn’t left the post since last night. We are hoping he’ll accept relief soon. Maybe you can convince him.”

  I nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

  The children of the second man who’d died for my cause were playing on the front stoop. By the look of them, the family hadn’t had much to eat over the last few years. The older, a girl, carried herself like someone who was six or seven, but she was the size of a four-year-old. Her younger brother had arms no bigger around than Tyrak’s hilt. Playing some sort of game with a rag and a handful of stones, the children scarcely looked up at me when I climbed the step.

  They don’t know yet, Tyrak said. I’m almost certain of it.

  His theory made sense. The children would learn what had happened to their father, but it wouldn’t be an easy conversation. Beside the door, a window was shuttered against the morning. Unlike some areas of the slums, few of the buildings in the strip had glassed windows. Shutters kept out the weather, and unfortunately, the light.

  As I tapped lightly on the door, the shutter cracked. A pale face showed in the gap. Moments later, the shutter closed. No one came to the door.

  “Mum’s tired this morning,” the girl said. “She doesn’t want us to bother her.”

  Swallowing, I crouched down in front of the girl. “What’s your name?”

  “Eshali.” She picked up the rag and dropped it over another rock. “These rocks are people. This one is hiding from the soldiers,” she explained. “But the others are brave.”

  “They’re all brave,” I said. “Just like you. Would you do me a favor, Eshali? Can you tiptoe inside and put this somewhere your mum will find it when she’s feeling better? You’ll be much quieter than me.” I pulled the other coin packet free and set it at the little girl’s feet.

  “Okay, after this game. Towsil!” she screeched, snatching a rock from her brother, who’d plucked it from the playing area and was preparing to throw it across the alley. “That’s Mister Fells!”

  “I’d be really grateful if you’d take that in soon,” I said, lowering my voice to a whisper. “It’s an important mission.”

  Her eyes brightened as she sprang up to head inside. “Like Da does. He protects us.”

  As hard as I tried to remain strong, I couldn’t pretend any longer. Looking at the little girl who’d just lost her da for me, I felt the abrupt urge to be sick. “Yes, like your da,” I said, my voice cracki
ng.

  It’s okay, Lilik. You did well.

  With a nod to Mother—she understood; her eyes were full of tears—I hurried away from the scene. At the next cross street, I turned hard away from the sight of the children and finally staggered to a wall. My breath came in quick, stabbing inhalations. “I don’t know if I can do this,” I said.

  Her arms wrapped me, awkward but warm all the same. “Shh. You can. You will.”

  Having followed at a respectful distance, the warden waited silently while I collected myself. By the time I looked at him, a shell of ice encased my heart. It would protect me for a little while, but one wrong move and it would shatter.

  “I’m ready to see Jet,” I said.

  With a quick bow, the man set off in the lead. The chief warden of the strip wasn’t far; we crossed no more than half a dozen streets before reaching his post. Until recently, I hadn’t realized how small the neighborhood actually was. Most likely, everyone here knew the men who’d been killed.

  “You need to let someone else take over for a few hours,” I said as soon as I was in earshot.

  Jet’s face was set in hard lines. “I couldn’t walk away until I knew things would be quiet this morning.”

  “I don’t want to have to order you.”

  The big man smirked. “From anyone else half my height, I wouldn’t consider anything they said an order.”

  “But since I’m the one who’s asking . . .”

  “Unfortunately, I’m not sure who to get to stand in my place,” Jet hedged.

  “I got it, Chief,” our escort quickly volunteered. “Slept from midnight until dawn.”

  “I see I’m thoroughly outnumbered,” Jet said with a sigh. “Only the most bullheaded commander ignores the advice of his people.” He looked at me. “And his leader.”

  Stiffly, he heaved himself from the stool. When he stretched, his back cracked loud enough to hear from five paces away.

  “I’ll walk with you,” I said.

  His brows raised. “You want to make sure I don’t sneak back to my post?”

  I shrugged. “And I need your help with something.”

  “All right, Councilor, it’s a deal.”

  I hadn’t thought to ask where Jet lived, but I’d assumed it was somewhere within the strip. When he led Mother and I across the street which marked the unofficial boundary of the neighborhood, I paused, confused.

  He glanced at me over his shoulder. “I figured you’d peg me for a strip resident.”

  “Only because I found you defending the area.”

  “Someone had to step in. I had a selfish interest too. If the soldiers had free reign over the strip, what would stop them from roving farther uphill?”

  “Good point.”

  “Lilik, about this coming evening,” Jet said. “I sent word through the slums asking people to abide by the curfew. We need more time to prepare defenses before we provoke the Council again.”

  “You think they’ll listen?”

  He turned and cast me a grin. “Of course. I told them Councilor Boket had ordered it.”

  I couldn’t help the little ember of pride that flared when he said it. I’d given him permission to put my name on any decisions he made regarding the warden, but I didn’t think he’d find my approval so important that he’d use it to add weight to his commands.

  After another few minutes’ walk, we arrived at a door, iron-bound with hinges that wouldn’t give nearly as easily as the kicked-in doors near Nan’s home. Scanning the front of the building, I noticed sliding panes in the windows rather than the standard fixed framing—on hot days, they could be opened to let the breeze through. A small, potted plant stood beside the door.

  Jet pulled a key from his pocket and shoved it into the lock. Another sign that he had more resources than most gutterborn. I wondered about his history.

  He satisfied my curiosity as he twisted the doorknob. “My father was a soldier,” he said. “Hired from a filthy port city on the west coast of Reknarish when he was twenty. In addition to his fee for fighting the traders’ wars, he made plenty gambling in the holds of their warships.”

  “Reknarish. I’ve never met anyone from that far away.” I’d only heard rumors of the place, a continent so big it took months to sail just one coast.

  “You look Kiriilti, though,” Mother said.

  “My mother was. Da gave up fighting when they got married. He taught me about war because he thought I should know how to protect myself. And the family he hoped I’d have one day. That part hasn’t been easy to come by, of course.”

  “You aren’t married?” I said.

  He shrugged. “The right woman hasn’t decided to give me a chance yet.”

  I glanced at the single red bud on the plant beside the door. So the flower pot was his? Jet was full of surprises. As for the soldier father, at least I knew where he’d learned tactics. When he fought the mercenaries, did that mean he was battling his father’s friends? Their sons?

  “Are your parents alive?” I asked.

  Jet shook his head, his expression abruptly sober. “Waikert,” he said simply. Nudging the door opened, he gestured for us to go in first.

  “I shouldn’t,” I said, glancing at the sun. “Not much time. But that’s why I wanted to talk to you. I got a message from the Ulstats. They asked me to meet them aboard their flagship. I plan to refuse, but I’d like to suggest an alternative.”

  At the mention of House Ulstat, Jet’s face had darkened. He cast a suspicious glance toward the harbor area. “You’re best off avoiding them clean,” he said.

  “I’m not so sure. I’m thinking we meet on neutral ground. I’ll demand they send an actual Ulstat. Each of us will be allowed a single adviser plus five armed guards who will stand off at twenty paces.”

  Jet balled his hands into fists. “Absolutely not!”

  “We can’t give up the chance to get information.”

  “Then send me, Lilik. You can’t expose yourself.”

  I shook my head. “You have to lead the fighters—they’re lost without you. I’m nothing but a figurehead when it comes to taking back our homes and city.”

  “Don’t do this. It’s—”

  “I’m going, Jet. I just wanted you to know.”

  Standing on his stoop, Jet glared down at me. “I’ll pick the guards then.”

  “You can pick three. The other two will come from House Korpit. I plan to take Mareti as my adviser.”

  He shook his head, incredulous. “I don’t see why you bothered to tell me this, then.”

  “Because you’re my general. And I’m hoping one of your men can take a note describing my terms to the skiff that the Ulstats will send.”

  “At least you haven’t decided to do that yourself, too.” He stared at the sky and muttered, “Fool girl.”

  In my mind, Tyrak chuckled. This commander of yours has a talent for bluster. But he approves of your plan even if he doesn’t feel he can condone it.

  I don’t know about that, Tyrak, I said.

  Oh, trust me. Right now, Jet and I share a bond that would be hard for you to understand. More than anything, we want to protect you, but we can’t because to do so, we’d have to control you. Might as well try to contain a typhoon. Best we can do is hold on.

  “So you’ll have someone take the letter?” I asked.

  Rolling his eyes, Jet nodded. “As you say, Councilor.”

  “Good. And Jet? One more thing . . .”

  He glanced at me, a brow raised in question.

  “I don’t want any arguments about this,” I said.

  As I stuck my hand in my backpack and pulled out the nightforged boot knife the Ulstat messenger had left, Jet’s eyes widened.

  “I assume you have a suitable holster?”

  He stared at the weapon, speechless. Soldier for a father or not, I doubted he’d had a chance to see a nightforged blade up close.

  “It’s a little small for a general’s weapon, but will you keep it? For l
uck?” I asked.

  Clapping a hand on my shoulder—I tried not to stagger under his strength—Jet nodded. “Again, as you say, Councilor.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  WHEREAS THE GUTTER slum petered out into the itinerant camp, which in turn faded at the edge of the closest inland farm, the trader district backed up to a steep slope. Nearly sheer in places, the rugged ridgeline wrapped the east side of the harbor and peaked at a flat-topped overlook informally called Trader’s Promontory. The official name, Deviki’s Demise, coined long ago to memorialize one of the early Islanders who had accidentally fallen from the precipice, seemed too morbid for most. In either case, I’d given both names when I sent my message back to House Ulstat. Jet had suggested the location. By picking the highest spot around, I was assured that House Ulstat would have a much more difficult time surprising me.

  Nonetheless, I’d sent Jet’s three wardens ahead to watch the area for signs of treachery. I’d requested we meet in the late afternoon, not so close to sunset as to leave me and Mareti exposed after dark, but late enough that the growing shadows would give us some cover as we moved through the trader district and onto the narrow path that switchbacked up to the ridgetop.

  “Aren’t you scared?” Mareti asked as we trekked. She’d chosen two of her most loyal House guard to accompany us. No doubt her father would hear of the outing, but if Mareti was worried about his reaction, she hadn’t shown it. The upcoming discussion with the Ulstats, however, had her gaze flitting nervously over the terrain.

  “Of course I am,” I said. “But at this point, I feel like it’s been months since I could relax. The fear is more of a dull ache than a sharp pain now.”

  She nodded. “Well, I’m glad you asked me to come.”

  “Of course. I trust you.”

  “I still don’t understand why. I’m a trader.”

  I considered this for a moment. “At first, it was because Raav did. But then I got to know you and found that he was right. Plus, I know you care about him. If we don’t find a way to deal with the Ulstats, Trader Yiltak will execute him. I knew you would want to be here.”

  “I do,” she said, breathing easily. Though she had the same slight build as Katrikki, the climb hadn’t winded her at all. I wondered what she did in her free time.