by K A Doore
“Then come down from there, ma,” said Drum Chief Basil. “And we’ll assemble the Circle. There’s no need to cause a scene. We have protocols for this sort of thing, you know, and rules for when someone can use a dais.”
“That’s what I was saying,” groused Heru.
“What’s going on?” asked another voice.
Hope fluttered in Illi’s chest as she turned with the crowd and saw Amastan pushing his way through. He’d be able to handle this. He was quick and clever and—
“Ah, two drum chiefs,” said Merrabel. “That will suffice. It’s time we discuss the sajaami this man has been hiding in your city.”
The roar in Illi’s ears was so loud she didn’t at first realize the crowd had fallen dead silent. All the breath had left her lungs, otherwise she’d be screaming. Drum Chief Basil stared dumbly at Merrabel, her lips forming an unvoiced, what? But Amastan had climbed onto the platform and positioned himself in front of Merrabel and Heru, hands raised.
“The Circle will convene immediately to discuss this accusation,” he called as the crowd began to mutter and simmer. “In the meantime, it’s only that—an accusation. No judgment has been made. You will disperse.”
The murmurings roiled anew, this time tinged with fear, panic—and anger.
“—should never have let him—”
“—blasphemy—”
“—but sajaam are a myth—”
“En-marab!”
The last one was hurled like an insult and behind it came more: “Monster!” “Demon!” “Leave!” Merrabel basked in the simmering resentment while Heru glowered. Something hit the dais at Heru’s feet: a rock. The crowd began to boil as people shoved their way forward, brandishing fists and shouts. More objects were thrown at the dais: an empty skewer, another rock, a metal bowl. The last connected with Heru’s leg.
Amastan wilted under the onslaught. He tried to shout above the crowd’s anger, but his voice was drowned out. Drum Chief Basil joined Amastan on the dais and lifted her arms high.
“Disperse,” she boomed.
A few people jumped. But the crowd only grew more agitated. A second rock hit the dais and a third smacked Basil’s upraised arm. People shouted and pushed against each other, trying to get to the center and to Heru. Illi was shoved into another body, who growled at her and swung a fist. Illi ducked and turned to the side, but somebody grabbed one of her braids. She retaliated with a jab to the neck. They gurgled and let go.
Too close, glass shattered. A hush blew across the riot, sobering as a winter wind. Thrown objects and fights were one thing, but breaking glass was unlucky, verging on blasphemy.
Drum Chief Basil took advantage of the lull. “I said, disperse!”
The watchmen finally arrived, diving into the crowd from all sides and forcing people apart with their elbows when possible and their swords when necessary. The anger still simmered, but the rage had broken, and now the crowd began to split. A few people hurried down the streets and they were soon followed by larger clumps and groups. The watchmen only harried them until they’d left the platform’s center, then they pulled back toward the dais. Their swords remained drawn, but Illi slipped past them before they could stop her.
Basil waited until the center contained only a few persistent dregs, then jumped down from the dais. Her gaze swept the area, lingering on a pane of shattered glass, before landing on Illi and narrowing. But Heru slid over the edge of the dais and confronted Basil before she could speak.
“I demand the opportunity to make my case,” said Heru. “Barca is misrepresenting the facts of the situation in a most dangerous manner.”
“We’ll convene the Circle immediately,” said Basil. “But it appears the damage has already been done. At this point, facts no longer matter.”
“Facts always matter,” said Heru.
Merrabel joined them at her leisure, a soft smile warming her face. Illi caught Amastan’s glare before the drum chief could smooth it away, but Merrabel didn’t appear to notice or care.
“I’m ready whenever the Circle is,” Merrabel announced to no one in particular.
“Right.” Amastan sighed. “Then come with us.”
Illi started to follow them, but before she could get a few feet, Amastan stopped and put a hand on her shoulder. The others continued without them.
“Go home, Illi,” said Amastan. “This is between us and the foreigner.”
“But—you know Heru,” protested Illi. “He needs someone to translate for him. He doesn’t know how to talk to people, especially drum chiefs. The Circle won’t be fair.”
“Your presence won’t help him,” said Amastan. “Not this time. If anything, it’ll look even worse if he’s seen associating with a cousin. They’ll think he’s corrupted you. I’m sorry, Illi. Take this time and prepare for the worst.”
“No,” said Illi, shaking her head. “No. You’re wrong. This is wrong. Heru has only ever helped us. We can’t do this to him. We need him.”
Amastan looked exhausted. “I’ll do what I can. And so should you—go home, Illi.”
8
Thunk.
The knife hit the center of the target, its repaired seams already leaking fresh sand. Four other knives stuck out of the target in a perfect semicircle. Illi had already freed a sixth knife from the strap across her chest and was sighting down its blade.
Thunk.
“Murdering that piece of leather isn’t going to make the Circle decide any faster,” said Mo.
She sat at the hearth, repairing an old wrap, white for mourning. A pile of them waited for her at the table, another reminder of the seven-year rite that Illi didn’t want to think about. “You know they like to take their time on these things. Go outside, get some air. If Amastan comes by while you’re gone, I’ll make him wait.”
“Thanks, but I’m going to stay.” Illi approached the target and removed her knives. The cuts in the leather bled sand, spilling the fine grains all over the floor. If she didn’t remember to sweep it up later, Thana would have her skin. “If Heru is thrown out, then I’ll need to be ready. I’ll be the only one who can stop the guul.”
Mo paused her stitching and pursed her lips. “That’s not true. You have your cousins. You have Thana. All of us are working together to stop the guul.”
“Maybe.” Illi returned to her spot on the floor a fair distance from the target. She took two steps back and reset her stance. “You’re all very effective at defense. But they’re not stopping. There’s more of them all the time. At this rate, we’ll be overwhelmed one day, and that day will be sooner than we can prepare for. Heru was the only one trying to find the reason the guul keep coming. And I’m the only one who knows anything about his research. So. It’s up to me.”
“We’ll find other ways to stop the guul permanently, without resorting to blasphemy. The marab will find their own way. I might not have all the answers now, but you’re not alone in this, Illi.”
Illi sighted. Threw. The knife hit the target dead center. “The marab haven’t found a way yet. Only Heru’s methods have actually worked.”
“And he’s the one with a sajaami in his possession,” said a familiar voice.
Illi started. Amastan stood in the doorway, the bright light of midday turning him into a featureless silhouette. She hadn’t even heard him arrive. Amastan stepped inside and closed the door, cutting off the light and becoming just an older man in a dusty wrap. If possible, he looked even more exhausted than earlier.
“What happened? What did you decide?” demanded Illi.
“Heru can’t stay,” said Amastan.
“No,” said Illi. “No—you don’t understand. The sajaami can’t be removed. I know he doesn’t explain things well, I should have been there—”
Amastan held up a hand, stifling her protests. “Nothing Heru—or you—could have said would have changed our decision. The moment that foreigner proclaimed in a platform’s center that he was harboring a sajaami, Heru’s fate was written.
This city is still far too fragile and new to risk allowing him to stay. We would lose the confidence of the people. They would take matters into their own hands and then where would we be? Chaos, confusion, hysteria. You saw only a hint of that when the foreigner spoke. No. Heru must leave.”
“He saved our city,” snapped Illi. “You’re only doing this to save your own hide.”
“Illi—”
“Where is he?” she interrupted. “Is he already gone?”
“No. We gave him a day to prepare. He’ll leave with the caravan first thing tomorrow. Where’s Thana? She should know about this.”
Illi didn’t hear Mo’s answer. A day wasn’t anywhere near enough time. Her pulse thudded too loud in her ears. She was already halfway to the door before anyone noticed she was leaving.
“Illi, wait—where are you going?” asked Mo.
But Illi ignored her and threw open the door. The roar that had overwhelmed her hearing earlier returned and with it a thickening sense of dread.
It seemed obscene that nothing had changed in the streets outside, on her platform or the next. Surely everyone else would feel the effects of the Circle’s decision, would be muttering or rioting in the streets. Yet the sun still shone as bright as ever and her neighbors smiled as she passed. A chicken ur-ur-ured from its cage and a baker cooled his wares on his steps.
Even Heru’s abandoned platform was unchanged. Still as empty as ever. Still as silent as ever. Only the stones weren’t as well-swept as usual, sand gritting beneath her sandals.
Illi pushed aside the white curtain without knocking, expecting to find Heru hard at work packing his things or hard at work pretending nothing had changed. She certainly didn’t expect what she found.
Everything had changed. The familiar had been smashed, shattered across the hard stone ground. Glass glittered everywhere, an obscene reflection of the night sky, as if its stars had been bled out across this floor.
Liquid pooled, still drying, in the cracks between the stones. Little had been left untouched. Whoever had done this had even gone to the trouble of overturning one of the metal benches, smashing the glass in front of the hearth, and dousing the fire within. Even the half-eaten roll had been ground to crumbs underfoot. And if their intent hadn’t been clear enough through the destruction alone, they’d scribbled in black charcoal all over the walls.
LEAVE
MONSTER
DEMON
In an instant, Illi took it all in. But what caught her attention and made her blood run cold was at the center of the room. The rope was gone. In its place was Heru, white wrap smeared with dust and dirt, hunched over a glass orb. Overhead hung nothing, which was just as startling as the chaos in the room. The glass beakers and flasks had accumulated slowly over the years, shifting their places. But the orb had always been there.
Now it spilled warm light across the glittering mess, returning some life to Heru’s pale features. He looked up, both his glass eye and his real one piercing Illi and nailing her to the spot. Sweat streaked his forehead and turned the edges of his tagel dark blue, sticking it to his face. Effort strained his features as he pressed with both hands on either side of the orb.
The orb pulsed brighter and Illi saw the crack that ran down its center. Blood trickled from beneath one of Heru’s hands. All at once, Illi understood. He was keeping the orb together. If he let go …
Fear touched her chest with one icy finger, then pressed its full palm against her sternum. Illi’s heart sped up and a high-pitched buzzing filled her ears. Despite the orb’s—the sajaami’s—light, the room was dark. She could smell smoke, blood, death. It would happen again. If the sajaami got out, Ghadid would be destroyed. And it was all her fault. If she hadn’t left the rope behind, they couldn’t have reached the orb. They would’ve ignored it completely. They—
“Took you long enough,” snapped Heru, interrupting Illi’s spiraling panic. “Come here. I require your assistance.”
There was no time for guilt. Illi went to Heru’s side, the light from the orb brightening with each step, and crouched next to him. This close, she could feel that same electric tension she’d felt when she touched the orb earlier today. This close, she could see that Heru was shaking with the effort of holding the orb together. Water seeped from between his fingers, snaking across the floor in a single, thin rivulet.
“What do I do?”
Heru stared at the orb, his silence so long that Illi wasn’t sure he’d heard. But just as she was about to ask again, he said, “I can’t keep this contained much longer. While I’m tempted to let go and allow the sajaami to find and punish the fools who did this, I’m aware that the sajaami will be indiscriminate in its wrath. Regardless, I’ll have to let go eventually, but the flask was compromised in its fall. Even if it wasn’t, its long stay within water has damaged the original seal. The flask won’t hold long. The sajaami will be free.”
“Isn’t there any—”
But Heru wasn’t done. “There’s one option.” He looked at Illi now, his single-eyed stare intense. “The sajaami appears to have an affinity for you, although I can’t fathom why. Between that affinity and the fact that a human body is a stronger vessel than any glass brings me to the conclusion that I may be able to contain the sajaami in you. But doing so will go much smoother with your consent. So: do you trust me?”
Illi stared. Affinity? Vessel? Her? Did she trust him? No, not even for a second, but—
“I’m running out of time,” said Heru through gritted teeth. “An answer. Now. If you will.”
It wasn’t even a choice. She’d trade her life if it meant Ghadid would be safe. “I’ll do it.”
“Good.” He breathed deep, then let go of the orb, stood, and hurriedly backed away, past Illi. “A warning: this might hurt.”
The orb cracked and split, spilling water across the floor. It swirled briefly around Illi’s bare feet, warm as a breath, and then it thinned to a shallow puddle. Inside, the flask dropped and sang as glass hit glass. It lay there, unmoving and unthreatening. The cramped, looping script that covered its surface was the only thing differentiating it from the other glass flasks now shattered on Heru’s floor.
The flask pulsed with light, drawing her in. She wanted to touch it, to see if it was real. All those years it had hung over her head, its light steady and reassuring. How could such a small container hold such a violent and powerful creature? It shouldn’t have been possible.
“Go on,” said Heru, his voice low but close. “Pick it up.”
Illi didn’t need further encouragement. The glass was warm, as if it had been sitting outside in the sunlight. She picked the flask up by its neck. It was lighter than she’d expected, as if it held only air. She shifted her grip to turn it and examine it further. Her thumb smudged one of the lines.
Cra-ack!
The flask exploded, shooting glass across the room. A burning redness burst out of the container, swirling tight and fast like a dust twister. A moment later, Illi felt the pain from the glass sing across her cheek, her arm, her palms. Warmth dribbled down her face and she knew it was blood without checking.
The redness took shape, flinging out arms that spread into wings, a column that split into legs, and a head that split wide with long teeth and roared. The sound shivered down Illi’s back, but she stayed soldered to the spot, her bleeding hands held before her.
Then: click. A metal bracelet snapped shut around one of her wrists. Illi hadn’t even seen Heru move. But then, how could she when the sajaami had filled the center of the room and her sight? Beneath the roar of the sajaami, Heru muttered, quick and fast. He articulated words she’d never heard before with clipped precision, spitting them out fully formed. Too late she realized that this, this was what Thana had warned her about.
But Illi didn’t have time for regret. Two spots of darkness formed in the sajaami’s head, above that horrible mouth. Eyes. They filled with a bright light, the same light the orb had once glowed with. And they found Illi.
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“Who has freed Nejm?”
The sajaami’s voice boomed as loud as thunder. A small part of Illi noted that now, for certain, Heru would no longer be able to stay in Ghadid. The whole city had to have heard this monster.
“Tell him that you have,” hissed Heru in her ear.
Do you trust me? Illi swallowed, her throat dry as dust. “I—I have.”
“You did so willingly, mortal? Do you claim ownership or anything so foolish?”
“Willingly…? Yes. And no, I don’t claim ownership.” She couldn’t imagine anyone trying to own this creature that somehow both filled the room and expanded beyond it.
“Then I accept your sacrifice.”
“Sacrifice?” echoed Illi. She blinked dry eyes and tried to find Heru, but too late realized she couldn’t move, not even her head. Panic spiked through her; she really was stuck. “No, I—”
A hand clamped over her mouth, cold and smelling strongly of pungent herbs. The sajaami swirled tighter, losing its shape, becoming a column of bright, violent red. In that moment, all seven years of her time spent in Heru’s lab seemed insignificant. Nothing she’d learned could have prepared her for this.
Vessel, Heru had said. Containment.
This might hurt.
The fabric of her wrap on her back moved suddenly, as if jerked. Then: pain. Bright and hot and sharp as a knife. She cried out. And that was when the sajaami decided to overcome her.
Nejm broke across her like a storm. It smothered her senses and dulled her world until all she knew was its roar in her sight its redness in her ears its taste of scorching heat and touch of smoke. Pain blossomed fresh down her back, again and again, as if someone were slashing her skin with a knife.
Illi wanted to scream, but her mouth and throat and nose and eyes were clogged with the sajaami.
And then … and then …
Sand. Heat. Fire. Rage. Illi was vast: a storm, a mountain, a desert. She could see for miles, the sands spread out below her like a blanket. Cities rose and fell beneath her, but they were insignificant, little more than gnats that buzzed and bit at her ears. She brought the storms the desert needed, the rain and the winds. Beneath her glittered water. A sense of rightness, balance, and calm filled her.
