The Unconquered City

by K A Doore

  Her skin was the color of sugar-dusted porridge, a brown as pale as sandstone. Her hair was a mass of tightly wound honey-brown curls, held back from her face by a ribbon as gold as her dress. She wore sandals that covered her toes in pale leather, ornamented with brightly colored baubles. Whether they were glass or stone, it was too lavish for something you wore on your feet.

  But the strangest thing about her were her too-pale eyes. Her black pupils stood out like pinpricks, widening within a circle of green as they caught on Mo and Illi at the table. Those eyes were like tinted glass, too impossible a color to exist naturally. Like Heru’s glass eye, but these eyes moved and focused, taking in the small, now crowded, room—these eyes were real.

  When she spoke, her voice was throaty with dust. “Thana Basbowen—I’ve heard so much about you.”

  Mo glanced around, then raised a hand to her chest. “Oh, I’m not Thana, ma. She’s still upstairs. I can go get her—?”

  “No need,” said a voice from the stairs, still thick with sleep. Thana stifled a yawn and gestured at the woman. “Who’s this, ’Stan?”

  “She arrived with the caravan,” said Amastan. “She came to the Circle and specifically requested an audience with your, ah, friend.”

  Thana ran a hand across her hair. “Heru. His name is Heru. Speaking it won’t summon him, you know.” She sighed. “Why did you bring her here? I’m not his keeper.”

  Amastan shifted uncomfortably. “She refused to tell me anything else. I thought you might have a better handle on what’s going on. And you know how Heru can be.” His gaze met hers and held it until Thana nodded.

  The woman cleared her throat. “My name is Merrabel Barca,” she announced with a flourish of her hands and a bend of her knees. “I have come on behalf of the crown. I must speak with Sametket immediately. It’s a matter of utmost urgency.”

  Thana’s eyebrows raised. “Crown? The Empress is dead, ma.”

  Amusement flashed across Merrabel’s face, there and gone in an instant. “No crown as crude and illegitimate as hers. You’ve heard of the kingdom of Hathage, of course.”

  Thana pressed her lips together while Illi tried to remember the maps she’d seen, but it was Amastan who answered, “It lies to the north. Hathage was a province of the Empire. I take it that’s no longer the case?”

  “Hathage hasn’t been a province since the Empire fell,” said Merrabel. “Its puppet governor didn’t last long without his precious Empress.” Her lips curled into a smile. “We’re a free country now and we look after our own interests. Which is why King Thamilcar sent me to find and speak with Sametket. So unless you’re willing to insult His Majesty, you should escort me to Sametket immediately.”

  Thana crossed her arms. “Ghadid’s a free city. We don’t take kindly to empires or kingdoms trying to throw their weight around here. Heru is a busy man—if he wants to see you, he will.”

  “I only ask for the opportunity. And directions.”

  Thana exchanged a glance with Amastan that held the weight of a thousand unsaid words. Illi shifted uneasily. Heru had a past with the Empire, had done terrible things for his Empress, and there were many still alive who yet blamed him for her crimes—some even in Ghadid. But that was just that: past. Heru had redeemed himself a hundred times over during and since the Siege. Whoever this woman was, Illi didn’t trust her. She set her spoon down and stood.

  “All right,” conceded Thana. “I’ll take you to him. But it’s up to him if he wants to speak with you.”

  Merrabel’s smile softened. “Oh, let me assure you—he’ll be very interested in what I have to say.”

  * * *

  “Heru—someone’s here to see you.”

  Thana drew back Heru’s curtain without waiting for an answer. Merrabel followed at her heels, gazing around at Heru’s lab with open curiosity. Illi came last, lips pressed tight and a hand on the sword at her waist.

  The orb twisted in its invisible breeze and brightened in greeting. Merrabel tilted her head back and studied the orb. Then she turned her gaze on the back of the room, where Heru hunched over his bench, elbows on the metal surface, his brows creased in concentration as he tilted one of his beakers over a wide bowl. A roll sat half-eaten at his elbow.

  Merrabel cleared her throat and then, in a voice that echoed through the room, said, “Heru Sametket, second advisory marabi of the late Empress Zara ha Khatet.”

  Heru didn’t look up. A drop gathered and fell from the edge of his beaker. A wisp of steam curled from the bowl and dissipated. Heru stirred the liquid with a wooden spoon, then dipped a vial into the bowl, scooped up some of the milky white liquid, and capped it. He set it in a rack along with a row of other glass vials, equally full.

  Merrabel coughed into her hand, then tried again. “Heru Sametket, second—”

  “You are interrupting a very important experiment.” Heru laid his palms flat on the table and looked up, dark eye flashing with annoyance. “Technically, I’m now the first advisory marabi, but I know my own name. I don’t care to know yours. So unless you are here to hold a flask or otherwise offer your assistance, please leave.”

  Illi started forward, memory and habit enough for her to know that Heru needed a specific reagent for what he was doing—one on the second shelf of his cabinet, a clear liquid in a clear jar—but she stopped abruptly when Thana clapped her hands together.

  “Okay, you heard him—”

  But Merrabel’s smile only broadened. “Ah, now I know it’s truly you. What are you doing here, Sametket? Why are you hiding in a village in the Wastes?”

  Heru turned away and grabbed a towel from another bench. Wiping his hands clean, he said, “The Mehewret Empire no longer has the stability I require for my work.”

  “The Empire has fallen.”

  Heru paused. “Fallen?”

  “Sametket,” said Merrabel, “you told me yourself.”

  Heru frowned. “I am certain I did not, seeing as how I have only just learned of the possibility.”

  “The possibility is reality. And you told me in that letter of yours.” Merrabel made a show of pulling a piece of folded vellum from a pouch at her belt and opening it with a flick of her wrist. She held it up as if she needed more light, pursed her lips, and scanned the lines with one long fingernail. Then she read. “I am conducting a thorough survey of this region’s remaining en-marab. As you are no doubt aware of by now, the Empress Zara ha Khatet—long may she live—is deceased. So it is therefore of the utmost importance…” Merrabel let her voice trail off and snapped the vellum shut again. “And then there’s some nonsense about surveys and statistics.”

  “But that letter was in regard to the Empress, not the Empire.”

  “Correct.” Merrabel dropped the vellum on a nearby table and folded her hands in front of her. “And your Empress set up no formal line of succession. When she didn’t return from the Wastes, Na Tay Khet tore itself apart. Most of the provinces seized their opportunity for freedom. Thanks to your timely information, Hathage led the way. I doubt you would be welcome in your home any longer, but Hathage could have a place for you—one at its heart, instead of cast aside and forgotten, as you have been here. No one told you what happened to your Empire? Truly? The news must have made it all the way out here.” Merrabel glanced at Thana, eyebrows raised, but Thana met her gaze with even silence.

  Heru took a moment to assimilate the information, then shrugged. “I am quite comfortable here, in this small backwards town. They do not bother me and I have all of the subjects I could wish for, fresh from the sands.”

  Merrabel approached one of the benches, trailing her fingernails along the metal. “You could have more. Full labs, Sametket. Willing assistants.”

  “More people to get in my way.” He narrowed his eyes. “I still do not know who you are. I sent that exact letter to over a dozen colleagues.”

  Merrabel put a hand to her chest. “You don’t remember me? I’m shocked, Sametket. We once studied under the same
roof. But of course, that was back when you went by ‘he Fet’ instead of ‘Sametket.’” Without taking her gaze off of Heru, she pulled up the hem of her dress and curtsied. “Merrabel Barca, His Royal Highness’s official emissary from the kingdom of Hathage.”

  Heru tilted his head to one side. “Barca? But I thought you were dead.”

  Merrabel lilted a laugh. “Just because I never answered your letter doesn’t mean that I’m dead.”

  Heru frowned. “I specifically asked the recipients of my correspondence to respond so that I could count who survived the Empress’s purge. It was essential that all respond, otherwise my survey would not be accurate. You did not respond, ergo, you were dead. Now you wish to inform me otherwise? You’ve thrown all of the results of my survey into question. This is why…”

  Heru trailed off as it became clear that Merrabel was ignoring him. She ambled across the room, fingers trailing along the long metal bench. She glanced once at the orb overhead, which brightened as she passed beneath. Illi kept a few feet behind, but she might as well have been another bowl for all Merrabel noticed. Thana stayed at the door, one hand on the hilt of her dagger, watching and wary.

  Heru cleared his throat. “Why have you journeyed all this way when you couldn’t be bothered to answer my letter?”

  Merrabel paused at the first guuli skull in the line. She traced the contour of its forehead with a finger, the scrape of nail across bone setting Illi’s teeth on edge. Then she tapped between the empty eye sockets and listened to the hollow thud. She nodded to herself before continuing on to the next skull.

  “Why—” began Heru, louder this time.

  “Because I’ve been looking for the source of the disruption.” Scrape, tap, nod. She looked up. “These are all empty. Are you starting a skull collection, Sametket?”

  “They contained guul. I have siphoned the guul out and stored them safely elsewhere.”

  “Where?” Merrabel looked around, her gaze skipping over Illi as if she weren’t there.

  “It is not important.”

  “No.” Scrape, tap. “I suppose it’s not.” Merrabel tapped the third skull thoughtfully and considered its gaping nasal cavity and spiraling gazelle horns. One of them was still crusted with blood: Yazul’s.

  Merrabel glanced toward Thana. “I’m not sure Heru will want an audience for this. This is a matter of scientific discussion and merits privacy.”

  “Heru and I have an understanding, ma,” said Thana, her hand tapping the hilt of her sword. “I’ll stay.”

  Merrabel rolled her head toward Heru. “Are you certain you wish to discuss potentially sensitive matters in front of one of the locals?”

  “That particular local has earned my trust,” said Heru.

  “If you insist,” said Merrabel. Then her gaze caught on Illi and those too-pale eyes finally saw her. “And what about this one?”

  “She’s my assistant,” said Heru.

  Illi felt a surge of warmth. He’d so rarely acknowledged her assistance, only assumed and expected she’d be there to help, like a particularly useful piece of equipment. To be fair, he always treated his equipment with great care.

  “Rumor has it that your assistants don’t last long,” said Merrabel, more to Illi than to Heru.

  Illi met Merrabel’s gaze and narrowed her eyes, thinking of a particular merchant. “Rumor can be wrong.” When Merrabel’s gaze didn’t lighten, Illi asked, “What did you mean earlier, about a disruption? Does it have something to do with the guul?”

  “Do you let your assistants speak so freely?”

  “I find it helpful if they can voice their concerns aloud, especially when those concerns might involve broken glass or errant jaan. The girl has the right question.” Heru pushed himself back from the table. “Answer it.”

  “I’d’ve thought such an intelligent man as yourself would’ve noticed it by now.”

  Heru crossed his arms, but his expression relaxed. “There have been many disruptions, some to the Wastes, some affecting the guul, some the sajaam. You must be more specific.”

  “From my own research: all of the above.” Merrabel sniffed the air, twisting her fingers through nothing. “A balance has shifted. It rains where it shouldn’t and it doesn’t rain where it should. Guul have stepped out of myth and become a frequent danger. Bindings are less effective. Our caravans have been attacked, sometimes outright destroyed. Our trade is threatened. Even the bandits have become desperate. Something has changed, and every point of data indicates that change originated here or nearby.”

  “A sajaami was released from its bindings some years ago,” said Heru. “I imagine the release of a being of such power could cause some changes to the local environment, but I cannot speak to the changes you describe without further examination of your data, which I assume you have brought with you.”

  “Oh, don’t fear, Sametket: you’ll have a chance to take a look yourself. But humor me for a moment—” Merrabel rolled her head back, her gaze landing on the orb. “—and tell me: what’s this strange bauble you have hanging in your lab?”

  The light had grown as bright as ever and now shone steady throughout the room, turning shadows crisp and dark. Despite its brightness, Illi couldn’t help but follow Merrabel’s gaze. It had never occurred to her to ask Heru what the orb contained. When she’d first entered his lab, everything had been a mystery, and many things still were. The orb had just remained one secret among many. It had hung in the lab’s center since Heru emerged sans one eye from the Wastes with Thana and Mo and three dead camels seven years ago.

  Now Heru hesitated. His gaze flicked to Thana; she shook her head once, the message clear. Don’t.

  Illi’s interest was piqued. So was Merrabel’s. A smile spread across her lips.

  “That’s it, isn’t it?” she breathed, her face awash in the orb’s light. “That’s the sajaami.”

  Illi started. She looked again at the orb. Sajaam were dangerous, violent creatures, more powerful than jaan, more willful than guul. If the stories were true, they’d all been sealed away because they’d been foolish enough to believe they could be gods. They’d destroyed countless civilizations and created the Wastes. Over a dozen tribes had come together to stop them.

  Heru couldn’t have a sajaami here, in the city itself. That would be dangerous. Madness. Surely Thana would never have let him—

  Merrabel glanced at Heru out of the corner of her eye, her smile twisting. “Oh, don’t be modest, Sametket. Only the most powerful marabi could have trapped a sajaami. If that really is a sajaami in there, then that means you’re the best of all of us. Or are you only mediocre?”

  Heru puffed up. “Of course I’m the best.”

  Illi rolled her eyes as Merrabel asked, sweet as sun-dried dates, “Then that’s the sajaami?”

  “Yes,” said Heru with no small amount of pride.

  Illi’s stomach lurched, as if she’d stepped off the edge of a platform without a rope or a plan. Thana breathed out a long sigh. Merrabel smiled in triumph. Illi took a step back, two. The sajaami’s light still bathed her in its cold glow. Or maybe that was only the glow of the water, holding its destructive power at bay.

  “Where did you find it?” asked Merrabel, her words thrumming with barely suppressed excitement. She reached up with one hand, fingers stretching as she rolled to her tiptoes, as if she could simply will away the distance between her and the orb. She stretched upward for a moment, two, then curled her fingers back and dropped her hand.

  Heru turned his gaze on the orb with a mixture of lust and wonder. “Through copious and thorough research, I discovered the location of the sajaam sealed centuries past deep within the Wastes. The Empress Zara ha Khatet foolishly released one of them, believing she could harness its power by binding it to her body. She briefly became immortal.” He smirked. “It did not last.”

  His gaze dropped from the orb to Merrabel and his expression turned solemn. “I had been preparing for that eventuality ever since I learne
d that the sajaam still existed in our world. That flask you see is the result of weeks’ worth of work and decades of learning. The Empress couldn’t contain the sajaami because she was impatient. I, however, have been able to contain the sajaami for seven years to no ill effect.”

  Merrabel’s eyes widened briefly, but she smothered her surprise with a snort. “No ill effect? Sametket, I’m only here because of its ill effect.”

  Heru frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Merrabel pointed in triumph. “That’s the disruption. That’s what has been causing the Wastes to expand and the guul to attack—your city as well as my own and others all along the coast. Sametket, you have to get rid of this sajaami. Before it destroys your city and my kingdom.”

  5

  “The sajaami has been contained,” said Heru dismissively. “It is perfectly safe while I continue with my experiments.”

  “No, it’s not.” Merrabel jabbed her finger at the orb. “If it were contained, it wouldn’t react to our presence like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Sametket—it’s glowing.”

  Heru glanced at Illi, then crossed his arms. “The sajaami has never done anything else. It does not affect its environment. It cannot. You seek causation but you have only proven correlation. The guul attacks have been increasing, the drought worsening, yes, but the cause of both—if there is even a single, coherent cause—isn’t here, Barca. It’s unfortunate that your long journey was for naught, but you are confused. Still, you may feel free to leave your notes with me. I am certain a more careful eye will see the nuance that you missed.”

  “I’m not confused.” Merrabel put her hands on her hips. “Do the people of this city know you’re harboring a sajaami?”

  “I do not see what that has to do with—”