Sands of Memory

by Melissa McShane

  She’d never seen Kalanath move faster. Darinikh squealed, an unexpectedly childish sound, and backed away rapidly, switching his grip on the book from his arm to his hand. He pointed at Kalanath, and a bolt of white lightning shot at the Omeiran. Kalanath spun out of the way, and Sienne heard a scream as the bolt impacted against someone beyond them. Hoping it wasn’t one of her friends, she hovered, waiting for her moment.

  Kalanath’s staff spun and cracked Darinikh across one temple. The rakhyanam cried out in pain and, to Sienne’s delight, dropped the spellbook. She shouted and whisked it to herself, already open to force. Darinikh backed away from Kalanath again and clapped his hands together.

  A shock wave like an earthquake in midair blasted Kalanath and Sienne. It took Sienne completely off her feet to skid backward across the slick tiled floor and impact with someone else. Sienne shook her head to dispel dizziness and then had to fling herself to one side to avoid the sword of the guard she’d slammed into. Rolling, she came to one knee and read off force, months of experience keeping her voice steady as the guard charged at her. The force bolt took him off his feet much as the blast had Sienne, but unlike her, he fell and didn’t rise again.

  Standing, Sienne looked for Darinikh and found him still battling Kalanath, blasting the young man with lightning Kalanath barely dodged. Then someone grabbed her from behind, and she shrieked and twisted, trying to get in a position to blast them. “It’s me,” Alaric shouted, swiveling her around. “We need those guards disabled! Use shout!”

  She flipped pages. “I’ll catch Ghrita and Perrin in the effect!”

  “I’ve warned them. Signal when you’re almost done!”

  She read as rapidly as she dared, feeling the spell build inside her chest and behind her throat to a painful crescendo. Raising one arm, she waved frantically, and Alaric shouted, “Drop!”

  Ghrita and Perrin, in her line of fire, hit the floor and flattened themselves just as Sienne spat out the last acid-etched syllables. A burst of sound erupted from her, catching ten guards in its blast and dropping all of them in that instant.

  Sienne coughed and looked for Kalanath and Darinikh again. She was just in time to see a cloud gather in the air above the throne, a misty whiteness that turned gradually into Jenani. The ashwar floated midair near Darinikh, its silver eyes cold and remote. It was much bigger now, twice as tall as Alaric and more heavily muscled.

  “Jenani! Destroy them!” Darinikh shouted.

  A look of terrible sadness crossed its face. “As you command, master,” it said. It raised a hand, and wind whipped through the throne room, a whirling cyclone whose calm heart centered on Darinikh and Jenani. It snatched the breath from Sienne’s lungs and carried her off her feet.

  She covered her face with her spellbook, making a tiny space of clear air so she could breathe, and struggled to rise. The wind was too powerful for her to fight. She crawled backward, hoping to find the limits of the whirlwind and put herself outside its reach. Effectively blind, she turned pages anyway, though it would be impossible for her to cast spells with any accuracy in this storm.

  The wind died away as abruptly as it had started, leaving her gasping for air. She lowered her spellbook. Jenani had Alaric by the throat and held him struggling with his feet dangling a few inches above the ground. Desperate, Sienne flipped to force and read off the evocation, her heart screaming at her to hurry. Jenani’s expression was remote, as if it had put itself somewhere far away from the hands that were choking the life out of Alaric.

  Sienne spat out the final syllables of force. The bolt of magical energy shot away from her, just missing Jenani’s head and striking Darinikh full in the chest. The rakhyanam let out an explosive grunt and shot backwards, landing in a dazed heap some three feet away. Jenani didn’t let go of Alaric, but Sienne didn’t hesitate. She ran, turning the pages to grease as she went and spitting out the sharp, painful syllables of the spell.

  Blood flecked her lips as she came to the end of the spell. Darinikh groaned as silvery grease sprang up all over his body, coating his skin and clothes and making his face a shiny mask. Sienne reached out with her invisible fingers and tugged on the ring. It slid a fraction of an inch and stopped. Darinikh’s hand was curled into a loose fist, rigid from force and too tight for her invisible fingers to break open.

  Sienne dropped her spellbook, which hit the floor with a sharp crack, and grabbed the rakhyanam’s greasy hand. With a scream, she slammed it against the tiled floor, her fist forcing it down. The fingers twitched open.

  Sienne grasped the ring, closing her fingers tightly around it heedless of the grease, and yanked. The ring slipped off easily, nearly sliding free of her hand, and she clutched it tighter. Swiftly she jammed it on the middle finger of her left hand and screamed, “Jenani! Stop!”

  16

  She turned in time to see Jenani release Alaric, who fell in a lifeless heap on the floor. Sienne ran to his side, falling to her knees and trying to lift him. It was like trying to lift a boulder. “Perrin!” she shouted, and then Perrin was beside her, holding a square of rice paper to Alaric’s forehead.

  “O my gracious Lord, have patience in your crankiness, and heal this man,” he cried.

  Green flames burst from the blessing paper, and an emerald light rose up from Alaric’s body. Alaric convulsed, tearing away from Sienne’s embrace, and she cried out wordlessly and flung herself on him. Alaric coughed, a long, hacking sound, then drew in a deep breath that rattled in his throat. Sienne lay against his chest and breathed in tandem with him, feeling obscurely that so long as she could do that, he would be all right.

  Alaric’s large hand came up to cover Sienne’s. “…all right…” he said. “Need…to fight…”

  “Just lie still for a minute,” Sienne said, sitting up and pressing against his chest. She wasn’t capable of preventing him from getting up, but she hoped he’d take the hint. Guards, most of them paralyzed by shout, lay on the floor. A few were still up and fighting Ghrita and Dianthe, while Kalanath guarded Darinikh’s fallen body, snarling at the guards who hacked at the pearly shield across from him. Vaishant stood near the center of the room, his hands clasped and head lowered in prayer. Sienne couldn’t see what effect it had, if any.

  She looked up. Jenani hovered in midair, its beautiful face haunting in its sorrow. “What would you have me do, master?” it asked.

  Sienne shuddered. “I’m not your master, Jenani. I promised I wouldn’t use the ring, remember?”

  “You ordered me to stop.”

  “I—that’s different, though. I couldn’t let you kill Alaric. And I know you didn’t want to.”

  Jenani shook its head. “That’s how it begins, Sienne. One justification after another.”

  Sienne wrenched the ring from her finger. She’d thought it was too big even for her biggest finger, but she must have been wrong, because it fit snugly and took a little effort to wriggle it off, even with the lingering traces of grease. “I said I wouldn’t use it,” she said, and tucked it into her belt pouch.

  “Sienne,” Alaric said, his voice raspy, “can you control that thing?”

  “Its name is Jenani, and it’s an ashwar, not a thing.”

  “Right now I’m more concerned that the shield is about to come down, and there are still more than a dozen guards eager to tear us apart.” He struggled to sit up, with Perrin assisting him.

  Sienne stood. “But we have an excellent hostage,” she said, walking to where Darinikh still lay. He twitched occasionally, but otherwise seemed incapable of movement. Large, dark eyes blinked up at her when she crouched near his head. “Can you speak yet?”

  Darinikh’s lips moved fractionally, and a sound like a low whistle emerged. “So, no,” Sienne said. She stood and opened her spellbook to shout. “Kalanath, you might want to move,” she said. Kalanath glanced at her, looked down at Darinikh, and took a few steps that put him behind Sienne. Sienne eyed the shield, which was visibly shaking from the force of the guards’ blows,
and counted down silently. She began reading the evocation just before the shield came down and the guards ran at her, shouting and waving their swords. Her heart raced faster, as it always did no matter how many times she did this—faced down a screaming adversary who would kill her if her timing was the least bit off.

  The guard in front was close enough that she could see the bloodshot whites of his eyes when the evocation tore out of her in a burst of sound that cut across the remaining shouts of the enemy. She had to step back to avoid his falling body and nearly tripped over Darinikh. The sight of men dropping like stones satisfied her immensely.

  Behind her, Kalanath moved to intercept a final guard who’d been outside her range. She turned to watch, and the room turned with her, dizzying her. She hadn’t realized how close she was to the end of her reserves…but then, she’d cast vanish all those times and hadn’t rested since then, so that made sense. Still, sitting down felt like a good course of action. She sat rather faster than she’d planned next to Darinikh’s head and drew in a deep breath. This was the hard part, watching the others fight and restraining herself from joining in and becoming a liability.

  She kept an eye on Alaric, who’d risen while she was casting shout and had repossessed his sword. To her, he still looked unsteady, but guards who came up against him decided to find an easier target. Not that there were any of those. Ghrita was as deadly with the staff as Kalanath, and Dianthe picked off enemies who were preoccupied with Ghrita and Kalanath. As Sienne watched, Vaishant raised his head and swept his right arm in front of him as if clearing a counter by shoving all its contents to the ground.

  Instantly, the remaining guards lowered their weapons, blinking as if coming from a dark room into the light. Ghrita swept her staff at one of them, and he shouted and backed away, dropping his sword and shouting, “Wait! Please, don’t kill me! This is a mistake!”

  The others picked up his cry, dropping their swords and waving their hands to fend off their attackers. Dianthe lowered her sword and said, “What are they saying?”

  “They wish to surrender,” Ghrita said. “Lie face down on the floor and you won’t be harmed,” she said in Meiric. “What did you do, Vaishant?”

  “They were under an influence,” Vaishant said. “They believed I do not know what. That they are to guard that one with their lives, I think.” He pointed at Darinikh, who’d started moaning sometime during the surrenders.

  Sienne eyed Jenani, who was impassive. “Did you do that? Make them believe they were the rakhyanam’s guards?”

  “It was Darinikh’s wish, to be a true rakhyanam,” Jenani said. “That includes the palace, the city, guards, everything.”

  “But you had to…did you cast dominate on them?” The thought of Jenani being capable of casting that evil spell made his silver eyes look threatening, though his face showed no sign of anger or malice.

  “I don’t know what that is. Ashwara are creatures of magic. We will a thing, and it happens. If your magic is capable of doing the same, it is by a different method.” Jenani suddenly looked sad again. “I have no control over what my master does with my magic.”

  Sienne’s heart ached with sympathy for it. “That’s evil,” she said. “We have to figure out how to free you.”

  “I’m beginning to think you can,” Jenani said. It floated down until its feet touched the floor, though Sienne noticed it didn’t put any weight on them.

  Ghrita approached. “I’ve spoken to the guards. They don’t remember anything but a strange storm coming across the sands toward their caravan, then waking up here.”

  “Darinikh wanted servants, and I took those closest to him.” Jenani didn’t look embarrassed at this admission. Sienne, looking at him, wondered if he felt any responsibility for the uses Darinikh had put his magic to.

  “But what of the ones Sienne paralyzed?” Perrin said. “They will wake in a few minutes. Will we have to fight them again?”

  “God’s blessing extends to all in this room,” Vaishant said. “They will wake and remember nothing. But we should take the swords. They are not theirs, in any case.”

  Sienne looked at Jenani, who shrugged. “Creating things is simple if you know how,” it said.

  She sat beside Darinikh, watching him regain control of his body, while the others collected swords and arranged the paralyzed ones in more comfortable positions. Sienne was almost grateful they wouldn’t remember shout. She felt a little bad about attacking people who hadn’t been in their right minds, even if they had been trying to kill her and her friends.

  Darinikh’s mouth opened, and this time, she heard, “Don’t kill me, please…”

  “You tried to have us killed. Why should we spare you?” she said.

  His mouth opened and closed a few times before he said, “I wouldn’t have…killed you…just wanted the truth…big one scares me…”

  “He should. He can rip your arm off and beat you to death with it,” Sienne improvised. Darinikh’s dark face went a few shades paler. “What made you think you had the right to kidnap the pakhshani and force them to serve you?”

  His head twitched, the barest movement side to side in negation. “Just…part of it all…I wanted to be a rakhyanam…this is what Jenani found.”

  “Well, it was wrong. And now you’re going to be nothing again. We ought to turn you over to Lashwanti and let her execute justice. You certainly wronged her enough.”

  Darinikh’s forehead puckered. “Who is Lashwanti?”

  “The chief of chiefs of the pakhshani? You stuck her in the harem because you don’t think women are worth speaking to?”

  “They have…a woman leader? I didn’t know.” Darinikh struggled to sit up and Sienne pushed him down easily. “Just let me go, please. I’ll leave and you’ll never see me again.”

  “That’s not good enough. Alaric would be dead now if Perrin hadn’t had the right blessing. I can’t forgive you for that.”

  “But that was Jenani who hurt him, not me.”

  “Jenani already told me it can’t use its own power except at its master’s discretion. So you’re the one I blame.”

  Tears trickled down Darinikh’s cheeks. “Please, spare me,” he begged. “I’m not who you think I am. I’m not a man. I’m just a street rat. You wouldn’t kill a child, would you?”

  Sienne stared at him. “You’re what?”

  Darinikh closed his eyes. “I wanted to be powerful. Jenani made me powerful. Except it thought that meant I should be a full-grown man.”

  “So you’re…a little kid?”

  “I don’t know my age. My mother didn’t keep track because she was always chin-deep in a bottle. But I think I’m nine or ten.”

  That explained why Darinikh didn’t ever visit the harem. Sienne looked up at Jenani. “Is this true?”

  “His name is Dari. He found my ring in a scrap heap outside Abhisok,” Jenani said. “I have fulfilled his every wish.”

  “Except I didn’t know what it meant!” Darinikh—Dari—shouted, or tried to; it came out as a hoarse whisper. “I just wanted not to have to live on the midden anymore! You took my words and twisted them!”

  “I did as I was asked,” Jenani said with a tiny smile Sienne was sure was mocking. “It’s not my fault you weren’t more specific.”

  “All right, enough,” Alaric said. Sienne looked up, startled. She hadn’t heard him approach. “Do I understand correctly that Darinikh isn’t what he appears to be?”

  “So they say,” Sienne said. “I don’t know what to believe, though there’s no reason for either of them to lie.”

  “You’ve got the ring,” Dari said. “Make Jenani put everything back the way it was.”

  “I can’t do that,” Sienne said.

  “Why not?” Alaric asked. “It’s the obvious solution.”

  “Because I promised,” Sienne said.

  The others drew close, attracted by the conversation. Perrin said, “This man is under a spell? I believe I have a blessing that can fix that.
It is similar to the one Vaishant used to break the…ashwar’s…spell over those men.”

  “Do it,” Alaric said. “I want some real answers.”

  Perrin crouched and pressed a square of paper to Dari’s head. He bowed his head and muttered an invocation.

  Orange fire flared, making Dari cry out, and a flash of orange light temporarily blinded Sienne. In the next instant, someone shoved her away, making her fall back, and she opened her eyes to see Dari leap to his feet and dash for the exit. Kalanath threw down his staff, took three running steps, and tackled the fleeing man. Who wasn’t a man any longer, Sienne realized: he was a good two feet shorter than he had been, and the robes that had fit his athletic frame now swamped his skinny, undersized body.

  Kalanath wrestled with him briefly before putting him in a complicated hold and marching him back to the others. A murmur went up from the guards, who’d gone from lying flat on the floor to kneeling. Sienne wasn’t sure if they were responding to the transformation, or to Perrin’s divine blessings, so different from their own. Either way, she hoped none of them would do anything stupid.

  “So it’s true,” Alaric said. “Damn. I was going to break all your limbs and leave you for the basilisks to devour.”

  Sienne knew he was joking, but Dari paled again. “I just want to go home,” he whined. “I wouldn’t have hurt you.”

  “My throat says otherwise,” Alaric said. “I think we should turn you over to the pakhshani. You wronged them more thoroughly than you did us.”

  “But they’ll kill me! I’m just a kid! I can’t be expected to make smart choices.”

  Dianthe snorted. “For a kid, you’re quick with an argument. I agree that Lashwanti should have the chance to dispense justice.”

  “No!” Dari struggled in Kalanath’s implacable grip.

  “We’ll have to find her first. I wonder where she is.” Sienne stood. “Did you or Ghrita see where she went, Dianthe?”