by K A Doore
She’d secured a rope and left it on the roof. Then she’d gone below and brought Heru his bowl and his knife and his towel and another roll and she’d palmed the bolt. When Heru departed at his usual time, she’d returned to the roof and dropped the rope through the hole where the bolt had been. Now she tugged that rope, confident that the hardest part was over. All she had to do was climb.
She still wasn’t completely certain how she was going to get the sajaami down, but she’d figure it out once she was up there. After all, Heru had attached the orb somehow, and while he was proficient at his particular work, he wasn’t exactly an engineering genius.
Illi tucked the rope between her feet and began to climb. Hand over hand over hand until her head brushed the ceiling and the orb hung before instead of above her. Then she held the rope between her feet, letting it take most of her weight as she examined the chain holding the glass orb in place.
Each link was as thick as a finger and they coiled tightly around each other. It’d be a challenge to break, but Illi had come ready for a challenge. From her belt, she freed the extra-thick glass cutter she’d bought at the market earlier, the one the merchant had assured her could also cut through metal, looped the rope around her arm, and reached for the orb.
As soon as her fingers brushed the glass, every single hair on her body stood on end. Even her scalp itched as the hair there fought against her tight braids. It was like the static that preceded a sandstorm. Every grain of her screamed danger.
But something else whispered, Who are you?
Illi yanked her hand back. The orb had been glowing since she’d entered the lab, but now it seemed to pulse brighter. At the same time, the thin lines scrawled across the flask seemed to darken and thicken—but that had to be a trick of the light. She could feel the water inside, but she knew if she reached as if she were healing, she wouldn’t be able to use it. That water was already locked in to another use.
Illi swallowed and pushed down her rising fear. That sensation, that voice—that had to have been one of Heru’s wards. One that would frighten her away. She wasn’t frightened, though; she knew exactly what Heru could do. Or, at least she thought she did. He’d never gone out of his way to actually teach her.
But she had to do this. The sajaami had to go, for the city’s sake, if not Heru’s own.
She examined the orb from all sides, her legs starting to tire from keeping her up. But there were no lines of chalk, of salt, of ink. No wards aside from those scrawled on the flask inside the orb. Nothing to explain that peculiar prickling sensation and certainly nothing that might alert Heru.
She reached again and this time when her fingers brushed the orb, a warmth spread across them as if she were catching a breath in her hand. Her mouth filled with the taste of summer heat, and something seemed to catch her and push back.
Easy as breaking glass.
That’s all it would take. She didn’t need to deal with the chains. All she had to do was crack the orb. But as soon as the thought came to her, she yanked her hand back and eyed the orb warily. That was definitely not what she needed to do. She might not know much about sajaam, but she doubted taking away a layer of the protection that kept it here would be wise.
Instead, she loosened her wrap, unknotting it here and there until she had enough give that she could cradle a large glass orb in the fabric without having to touch it. Maybe she should have brought gloves, too. She touched the leather charm at her neck and was unsurprised to find that it was warmer than usual. This would’ve been a good time for the added protection glass charms would give, but the leather ones would have to do.
Without touching the orb this time, she brought the glass cutter up to the first chain. The blades bit into the metal just as the white curtain over the doorway parted with a swish.
Illi was already halfway down the rope before Heru had stepped fully into his lab. She let go still a few feet up and landed with a soft thump. She was straightening just as Heru’s eye found her. Then his gaze slid past her to the rope and his eye narrowed to a thin slit.
“What in all the seven hells do you think you’re doing?”
“Cleaning.” Illi gestured toward the ceiling with one hand as she slid the glass cutter back into her belt with the other. “You’ve got so many cobwebs up there, I thought I’d clear some out.”
Heru’s eye flicked up, toward the orb, and Illi realized too late she shouldn’t have pointed it out. The orb was glowing even brighter than usual. Heru’s mood darkened further.
“I know exactly how many cobwebs are up there,” snapped Heru. “And that number is: zero. I’ve warned you before not to go anywhere near that orb.”
No point in denying it. Illi crossed her arms. “It can’t stay. You know it can’t. The drum chiefs know about the sajaami now. They won’t let it stay in Ghadid—and if you don’t give it to Merrabel, they’ll throw you out with it.”
Heru went to his work bench, where he began uncovering bowls he’d left out and retrieving tools from underneath. As he moved, he said, “Allow me to count the many ways you’re mistaken. One, the drum chiefs do not know about the sajaami; only Amastan does. Two, he’s beholden to Thana, who has proven her loyalty to me and I don’t foresee her betrayal except under the direst of circumstances. Three, Merrabel is insufficiently educated about the subject of sajaam and therefore is unacceptable as its keeper. Four, I cannot simply remove the sajaami from its confinement.” He paused, one hand still outstretched for a vial, to glare at Illi. “Anything less than the most careful preparations could see the sajaami freed. Including mishandling by a foolish girl who has just proven how very little she’s learned despite spending so much time in such prestigious and genius company.”
Illi didn’t rise to Heru’s bait. From him, that was practically a compliment. Instead, she approached his bench, leaving the rope to hang alone in the center of the room. “All right. Then how do we start those preparations?”
“There’s no point,” said Heru. “They’ll take days. The caravan won’t wait that long for us. Therefore, the sajaami stays.”
Illi shook her head. “Why didn’t you say earlier? Surely Merrabel will understand. She doesn’t want the sajaami free.”
“I do, in fact, recall her from our academic days together in collegium,” said Heru. “Unless she has changed greatly, she’s too stubborn to listen. If I had explained the situation, she’d only have found a way to wrest the sajaami from my control sooner. This way she’ll be forced to leave with empty hands.”
“There’s nothing stopping her from staying, either.”
Heru shrugged. “Then she may stay. The important thing is that the sajaami doesn’t leave.”
“But the sajaami can’t stay,” said Illi, exasperated. “If Merrabel is right—”
“I refuse to work under duress,” interrupted Heru. “With sufficient time, we will arrive at a solution.”
Illi’s stomach sank. “You have no plan at all for the sajaami.”
“I always have a plan.” But he spoke a little too quickly and his gaze stayed trained on the bowls in front of him. He coughed and added, “I don’t see why you’re so upset. This doesn’t concern you.”
“Doesn’t concern me?” echoed Illi, incredulous. “Doesn’t concern me?”
“Repeating my words back to me does little to clarify—”
“I lost everything once,” said Illi. “I’m not going to stand by and lose it again because you refuse to see reason.”
“You know nothing of which you speak.” Heru turned away as he measured out powder from one of the bowls into a vial. “Leave the matter to those who are experienced in it.”
“You never gave me a chance to become experienced.”
“You do not know what you ask, girl,” said Heru, more to the vial he was holding up to the light than Illi. He placed the vial gently in a rack, then brushed off his hands. “What does that have to do with our current situation?”
Illi sucked in another breath. She was getting too
wound up. Heru would only listen to reason. Except—he wasn’t listening to reason. That was the problem. The sajaami was a blind spot for him. Every other problem he’d attacked head-on, chipping away at the what-ifs until he had a solid plan. Finding a solution for the guul had only taken a few weeks. Figuring out a way to purify their entire water supply had only taken a few days.
So why was the sajaami taking him almost a decade?
The curtain swished. Illi spun, hand going to her belt. Merrabel paused in the doorway, her gaze skipping across Illi to Heru before finally rising up to the orb. A ghost of a smile twitched at her lips, there and gone in the span of a heartbeat. She crossed the room, gloved hands clasped before her.
“I’ve come for the sajaami.”
Heru ignored her as he finished pouring a thin yellow liquid into another vial. Without looking up, he said, “Then you’ll leave disappointed.”
Merrabel peered into one of his bowls. “Really, Sametket? I thought we’d come to an understanding. Were the notes I dropped off for you yesterday not convincing?”
“They were convincing, yes,” said Heru. “They convinced me that the frequency of guul attacks has increased and continues to increase not only in our vicinity but all along the edges of the Wastes. They convinced me that the area we define as the Wastes is expanding. They convinced me that there has been a measurable atmospheric imbalance, leading to a sudden and extreme disparity in precipitation both inland and along the coast. They were thoroughly convincing in regards to the possibility of a disruption in our local ecosystem.”
“Wonderful.” Merrabel clapped her hands and smiled. “Then you comprehend the severity of the problem.”
“The severity, yes.” Heru set his last vial in the rack along with the others and finally lifted his gaze. “But not the cause. You jump to conclusions with no basis in reality, no grounding in true research. Something is happening, yes, but I see no evidence that this something is linked to the sajaami, let alone caused by it.”
Merrabel’s smile became a rictus grin. “Sametket—you said yourself that the sajaami’s release caused changes in the Wastes—”
“I hypothesized that a release of that magnitude could affect its immediate environment,” said Heru. “Until you can present data that confirms your hypothesis, the orb will stay with me and, until my research is complete, I will stay in this city.” Heru abruptly turned away and picked up another bowl. “May your trip back to Hathage be uneventful.”
Merrabel let out a sigh, but it held no disappointment, only regret. “Then you force my hand, Sametket. I wonder what your drum chiefs will have to say about this.”
“They will see reason.”
“Heru,” hissed Illi. “Tell her the sajaami can’t just be removed.”
“Oh, that,” said Merrabel. “Sametket is overly cautious. I’m certain your drum chiefs will help convince him that swiftness is a virtue.” Merrabel pushed herself away from Heru’s bench. “Last chance, Sametket.”
Heru only grunted in response.
Merrabel headed for the door. Illi slipped in front of her, hands up. “Please. Why don’t you just stay in Ghadid and work with him? There will be another caravan.”
“Not necessarily,” said Merrabel. “Not with the way this disruption is progressing. The guul attacks are increasing—it won’t be long before the caravans are no longer willing to take such a risk for salt and glass. Besides, Sametket has made his choice. He knows the consequences.”
She stepped around Illi as neatly as if she were avoiding a mangy cat. Illi turned to Heru, but he was bent over his bench once more. Merrabel reached the door unimpeded. She paused as if expecting further objections, then pushed through the curtain and was gone.
Illi watched the curtain settle. Merrabel took her dissonance with her and, for a few moments, the lab was as it always had been. But that safety was only an illusion.
“You’re just going to let her tell the drum chiefs about the sajaami?” asked Illi without turning. When the only reply was the slosh of water, she continued. “If she does, Amastan won’t be able to protect you. Neither will I.”
A bowl clinked as it was set down. The sloshing stopped. “I saved this miserable city from a plague that would’ve bound all of your jaan and turned you into mindless slaves to the Empire. You’re indebted to me.”
“That debt doesn’t give you license to do whatever you want,” said Illi. “You know what the people think of you. You know they’ve only put up with you because you stay out of sight and out of mind. Because you’re not a threat.” Illi gestured at the orb. “But that? That’s a threat.”
“For the thousandth time, it is contained—”
“I know!” said Illi. Then, quieter, “I know. But they don’t.”
“That’s not my problem.”
“It should be.”
Illi turned and found Heru drying glass with a towel. Maybe he’s the one bringing them, the merchant had said. Her gaze flicked to the orb, still glowing steadily. Heru wasn’t drawing the guul, but if Merrabel was right it wouldn’t matter who or what in this room was truly at fault. They’d all be turned out.
Ghadid will protect itself.
Well, Illi was a part of Ghadid.
“You understand what she’s going to do, don’t you?”
“She’s going to bring her complaint before the Circle.”
“No.” Illi took a deep breath. “She’s going to present her hypothesis as fact and misrepresent your work.”
Heru stiffened. He lifted his eye to stare directly at her. “Don’t try to manipulate me, girl.”
“If you stay here and hide, you won’t be able to correct her. She’ll convince the drum chiefs that the sajaami is causing whatever this disruption is. They can’t possibly understand the intricacies of your research if you’re not there to discuss them. She’ll gloss over important details. She’ll jump to conclusions.”
“She doesn’t comprehend my research,” said Heru, voice cold.
“Yet you’re okay letting her explain it to the drum chiefs by herself.”
“No. I’m not.” Heru put the bowl on its shelf and folded the towel on the table. “If they must learn about my research, then they’ll learn it from me. Only I can give an accurate representation of my methods and my results, heretofore.”
“You’d better hurry,” goaded Illi. “She’s got a pretty good head start.”
She shouldn’t have bothered; Heru was already halfway to the door. He pushed through the curtain without bothering to see if she was following.
Heru paused in the bright light of midafternoon and seemed briefly disoriented, as if he couldn’t remember which way was civilization. Then he found east and started down that direction, Illi trailing by a solid dozen feet. As they passed over bridges and crossed empty platform after empty platform, the distant sound of wind became a distinct rumble which in turn became the grumble of a crowd.
The clumps of people Illi had walked by earlier on her way to steal the sajaami had paused their shelling, their mending, and their knitting to exchange hushed words or had disappeared entirely, their doors shut and their windows drawn. Curtains twitched as they passed, curiosity getting the better of some. Silence trailed Heru as the people still outside, still around, abruptly stopped their whispers to turn, stare, and even some—bravely, stupidly—to point.
While Heru ignored them as he always did, Illi no longer could and her fear wrapped tight around her throat.
They met the crowd on the next platform, spilling like sand between the buildings, at first a few grains here and there and then so dense Heru had to shove his way through. But it only took one touch for the awareness of his presence to spread like cracks through glass, the crowd shattering before him, only to re-form immediately behind, leaving Heru a bubble of space to move through, unimpeded.
She kept close now, sliding into the spaces he’d opened before they could narrow and disappear. Conversations spun all around her, disorienting and dissonant
, but she caught enough to know that the crowd was curious, confused, and concerned, but not angry. Whatever Merrabel had planned, she hadn’t done it yet. Illi could still stop her.
But as Heru passed through, the conversations slowly changed. Concern deepened, and more than one person wondered what he was doing here. By the time they’d reached the center of the platform and the crowd’s attention, the whispers had turned to mutters and Illi knew she’d made a mistake thinking Heru could change anybody’s mind.
But it was too late for regret and perhaps it was time for Ghadid to see Heru for who he was—an earnest if arrogant person, and not the monster they so wished him to be.
The crowd gave way at the dais, revealing a figure all alone at its center, still as stone. Merrabel shone in the morning sun like a star herself, her arms behind her back and her chin up, waiting. It took Heru two attempts to climb onto the dais. Merrabel ignored him.
“Barca.” Heru’s voice carried easily above the crowd. “You are being rash. I would expect a scientist of your standing to understand the importance of thoroughly collating and curating your research before presenting your findings to the unwashed masses. They must be properly calibrated to avoid undue associations or panic, and that assuming your conclusions are not incorrect—which, by the way, they are.”
Merrabel started to tap her foot, but she didn’t answer or even turn to Heru. Illi’s fingers brushed across one of the knives at her hip, but the hundreds of pairs of eyes on Merrabel were better protection than any armor.
“They won’t understand you,” continued Heru. “Come down from here—”
“Someone called for a drum chief?”
On the other side of the dais: a raised hand, fingers glittering with rings. The onlookers around them gave way, revealing a figure wearing a green so violent it could’ve been cut from a gem. Intricate black embroidery spilled down the front and across the sleeves in geometric tangles that seemed to move on their own. Gold hung around their neck and from their ears. Illi recognized the colors as those belonging to Drum Chief Basil.
Merrabel loosened at her voice, finally looking around. “I did. I have something I must discuss with the Circle. It’s of the utmost importance for the security and safety of your city.”
