by K A Doore
Merrabel raised a fist and half her soldiers dismounted while the others circled tight, turning their camels so that their bodies formed a living wall. Captain Amilcem walked right past Illi and up to Heru, hand on her sword.
“Dismount.”
Heru straightened and, for a heartbeat, Illi was certain he’d refuse. But then Heru glanced at her and relaxed a little. He slid from Anas somewhat inelegantly, his head held up the entire time.
“For the record, I do not assent to this search,” announced Heru. “There is nothing to be found.”
Ignoring him, Merrabel addressed the soldiers who’d begun to go through Heru’s bags. “You’re looking for a flask or jar. It’ll be made out of glass or metal, and it’ll be covered in symbols. Bring anything you find to me.” She gestured at Illi. “Oh, and search the girl’s bags, too. I wouldn’t put it beneath Sametket to have his assistant carry such a dangerous object for him.”
Illi flinched as one of the soldiers going through Heru’s bags dropped an armful of parchment on the ground. Another soldier pulled out a leather bag and upended it, dumping fabric, ink, cloth, and other, small bags. Inside one, something shattered.
Heru twitched and held up a hand. “If you were truly looking for a glass container, you would be more careful.”
Amilcem shrugged and finished pulling on leather gloves. She pointed at Heru. “Extend your arms.”
Heru blew out a breath that rustled his tagel, but complied. Amilcem began systematically patting him down. She paused at Heru’s waist and unclipped a small bag from his belt. She undid its knot and peered inside, the warm light from within bathing her face. She pulled out a single glass sphere, glowing red, and held it between two fingers. Illi held her breath: if the soldier shattered it, the guuli quieted within would be free.
“If you value your life, you’ll put those back where you found them,” said Heru.
Amilcem stiffened. Her gaze darted to Merrabel.
“That’s not what we’re looking for,” said Merrabel. “But I’ll take them.”
Heru hissed, but didn’t move as Amilcem returned the single sphere to the bag, then handed the bag to Merrabel. She slipped it onto her belt and gestured for Amilcem to continue. The captain finished patting Heru down and turned to Merrabel, hands spread and palms up.
“Aside from that bag, he’s carrying a few knives, some coins, and a water skin. Nothing like you described, mar.”
Merrabel pursed her lips and turned to the rest of her soldiers. They’d just finished searching Illi’s bag. They, too, spread their hands and turned up their palms. A hiss escaped from Merrabel’s pressed lips. She narrowed her eyes at Heru.
“Where is it?” she demanded. “You took it with you when you left Ghadid. The caravan hasn’t stopped anywhere along the way. There’s been nothing but Wastes for days. So where did you hide it?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” said Heru, tone flat.
Merrabel glanced from Heru to Illi and back again, nostrils flaring. “I’ll have it out of you, Sametket. The safety of my kingdom is at stake.” Her gaze slid back to Illi. “Does the girl have it?” Then, to Amilcem, “Did you search her?”
“We searched her bags—”
“Search her.”
Amilcem turned to Illi, expression rigid, and ordered, “Dismount.”
Illi slid from Awalla and stood beside her. She held out her arms, compliant as a doll while Amilcem ran her hands down her front and sides. All the captain found was her sword and her assortment of small knives, which Amilcem turned out on the sand in front of her, a peace offering to Merrabel.
Merrabel wasn’t pacified. “He won’t have left it behind. It has to be here somewhere.” She gave the camels a considering glance that Illi didn’t like, then Merrabel let out a little gasp that was half laugh, half surprise. When she turned back around, her gaze fell on Illi.
Too late, Illi realized that during Amilcem’s search, one of her sleeves had caught and hadn’t slipped back over her wrist. Her burnt-metal bracelet now caught the light and Merrabel’s attention. Illi shook her arm so that the fabric would fall back down, but Merrabel was already next to her, cool fingers tightening around her forearm.
“What’s this?”
Merrabel jerked Illi’s arm up to examine her wrist. Illi’s free hand went to her belt, but her sword wasn’t there: all of her weapons were splayed out on the sand before her, just out of reach.
“Don’t manhandle my assistant,” said Heru.
“Why did you bring your assistant along?” asked Merrabel, voice sweet. With her other hand, she turned Illi’s bracelet, sliding it across the still-sore flesh.
“To assist,” said Heru, as if it were obvious.
“Mmm.” Merrabel dropped Illi’s arm, but before Illi could move away, grabbed her other arm. Her fingers pulled up Illi’s sleeve, revealing the silver bracelet. She traced a finger along the swirling inscription, her lips drawn back to show off her teeth in a terrifying grin. She dropped Illi’s hand and turned that grin on Heru. “Do you typically bind your assistants?”
“It was a … precaution.”
“You can’t lie worth a damn, Sametket.” Merrabel snapped her fingers. “Soldiers—seize the girl.”
Illi stepped back and out of the way of grasping hands. Her weapons might have been out of reach, but she had what she’d learned from Canthem. As the first soldier lunged, trying to grab her arm, she blocked them and jabbed at their eyes. They jerked back and Illi slipped past two more soldiers to take her place next to Heru.
Even as she moved, she doubted. Why not go with Merrabel? She’d have a lab ready in Hathage. Illi could start finding ways to subdue the sajaami right away. Heru had admitted that it’d be weeks yet before he could be ready. Weeks during which Illi would be slowly draining his collection of guul, one by one by one. A collection Merrabel had already confiscated.
But Merrabel’s actions had driven her and Heru from Ghadid and started this whole mess. If not for her, the sajaami would’ve still been contained, still hanging from the center of Heru’s lab. Still drawing guul.
The thought festered in Illi and she wasn’t sure if it was her own or the sajaami’s. But it didn’t matter whose—Heru had said as much himself days before, when she’d been preoccupied with so many other things: you could summon your own guul from the Wastes.
How long had he known?
“You will not take the girl,” said Heru, his voice cold.
“You can find many assistants in Hathage,” said Merrabel. “Or you can buy some. Either way, there’s no shortage and I can refer several that are far more capable than this girl. Don’t pretend you have a fondness for her; I’ve heard about how you treated your assistants in Na Tay Khet. They tended to die quite horribly.”
“That was once,” spat Heru. “And exactly the reason why I avoided assistants after. Humans are inconveniently fragile.”
“Yet you have one now,” said Merrabel. “One you insisted on bringing with you on a dangerous journey. Is there something special about her? Those bracelets must have been expensive, Sametket. If you tell me where the sajaami is, I’ll leave her alone.”
While Merrabel spoke, she lifted a hand and her soldiers tightened their circle around them. As one, they drew their weapons.
“If humans are so ‘inconveniently fragile,’ she would be safer with us.”
“She is safest with me.” Heru stooped and picked up one of the discarded knives. “You will not take the girl.”
“I have a name,” said Illi.
They ignored her. Illi’s bracelets thrummed, as if feeding off the rising energy of the moment. She all but burst for a fight after two straight weeks of monotonous travel, but she was increasingly uncertain who she’d be fighting. Heru was acting like she had no choice in the matter, like she wasn’t even there, like she wasn’t even a person. The itch to fight hardened into something else. Bitterness. Anger. Resentment.
Seven years. He’d had the sajaami for
seven years and at any point during that time he could have destroyed it. He had chosen to do nothing.
Merrabel, however. Merrabel Barca was an en-marabi and a general. As soon as she’d learned of the disruption, she’d crossed vast distances to find it. She hadn’t waited for the caravan. She had a lab. She had assistants. She had a plan.
“I have a name,” repeated Illi, louder this time.
“I know, girl,” snapped Heru.
And with that, Illi was decided.
“I’ll go with you.”
14
Silence greeted her words. Illi stepped away from Heru. He snatched for her arm, but she was already out of reach. A smile slowly lit up Merrabel’s face, gradual as the dawn. She lifted a hand as her soldiers tried to grab for Illi and waved them away. Illi stopped in front of Merrabel and lifted her chin to meet the general’s too-pale gaze.
“Do you have a plan for destroying the sajaami?” asked Illi.
“So you do have it.” Merrabel clapped once with delight. “You’d turn on your master?”
“I’m not turning on Heru. I’m protecting my city.”
Merrabel’s gaze flicked to Illi’s bracelets, then back to her face. “You are his creation.”
Illi huffed. “I’m my own person. And you didn’t answer my question: do you have a plan?”
Merrabel stared at her another long moment before answering. “I do. But is destroying it what you want?”
“If the sajaami is causing this disruption you’ve described, if it’s bringing the guul out of the Wastes to Ghadid and drawing them to other places, then it has to be destroyed. Heru doesn’t have the facilities to accomplish that.” Illi didn’t need to look to know Heru was glaring as only he could; she could feel the weight of it on her back.
“I will,” said Heru. “And I know far more about the sajaami than this woman, Illi.”
“Now you know my name,” said Illi, rounding on him. “Did you know the sajaami was bringing the guul to Ghadid?”
“Well, I hypothesized—”
“How long have you known?” When Heru hesitated, Illi made a spitting noise in disgust. “That’s what I thought.”
“You don’t understand, girl—”
“No, I think I do.” Illi balled her hands into fists. “You weren’t sure, so you had to run experiments, and you never once thought about how you were endangering Ghadid.”
“That is inaccurate and misleading. If you would just give me a moment to explain—”
“You should listen to your assistant,” said Merrabel. “With the proper training and without your interference, she’ll go far.”
Illi met Merrabel’s gaze and held out her hand. “Illi Basbowen. If you can even begin to do what Heru hasn’t, it’ll be a pleasure to work with you.”
Merrabel appraised her hand for a moment, then took it, a real smile warming her face. “The pleasure’s all mine, Illi Basbowen.”
“You can’t take her,” snapped Heru.
“In case you missed it, your assistant is going willingly,” said Merrabel with no small amount of delight.
Heru growled, the sound disturbingly feral. He slipped a vial from his pocket and uncorked it with his thumb, all the while keeping his knife trained on Merrabel.
“No. No, I won’t let you have her.”
“I already decided,” said Illi, exasperated. “This isn’t up to you, Heru. Let me go.”
Heru hesitated, his hand shaking a little as he considered Illi.
“You never could follow through, you know,” said Merrabel, her tone softer now, more conversational. “The sajaami’s just another in your long line of failures. You were always leaving your half-begun messes for the rest of us. If you weren’t completely certain of success, you just quit instead. How you made it as far as you did, and even took Samet’s name, I’ll never know. If you’d stayed Heru he Fet, perhaps we wouldn’t have this sajaami problem. But then again, if you’d stayed he Fet, the Empire would never have fallen and I really must thank you for that. If one should even be thanked for their failures, he Fet.”
“I do not fail.”
Merrabel clicked her tongue. “Seems to me your entire life has been a failure, he Fet. What has all your trouble ever brought you?” She opened her arms as if to take in the rocks and dirt all around them. “Your Empire ground to dust. Exiled from a village in the Wastes. Your family—well, you never had one of those. And even your name, stolen from a man ten times what you could ever hope to be. Where’s your immortality, he Fet? Where are your discoveries, your renown? You sacrificed everyone closest to you for glory and yet now even your colleagues barely remember you. Soon, you’ll just be nothing—again.”
“If you think I did it all for glory,” sneered Heru, “you have been woefully misinformed.”
He shook his head, disappointed, and then abruptly downed the contents of the vial. He tossed the empty glass over his shoulder. It shattered on the stones. He slashed his forearm then held the knife up, its bloodied tip pointed at Merrabel. A thrum rose in the air like the prelude to a storm. Warmth bubbled in Illi’s chest, spreading long fingers outward. Her back itched and her bracelets grew hot.
Merrabel raised her hands as if in welcome. “Try it, he Fet. I survived your Empress. I can survive you.”
Energy cracked like a whip between them. Illi felt a sensation not unlike a bone popping back into place and knew that one of the spheres containing the guul had cracked. But no guuli escaped. How could it when it had already been used? She knew that sensation intimately, because she’d been the cause of it herself last time.
Merrabel grunted and took a step back, as if she’d been pushed. The thrum snapped like a broken string and was gone. Heru dropped his arm, the knife pointing at the ground, but his shoulders stayed tense. Expectant.
Merrabel’s laughter was as sharp as broken glass. She spat a mouthful of blood out onto the stones and grinned. “Is that all that the second advisory marabi to the late Empress Zara ha Khatet can manage?”
“First advisory marabi,” snarled Heru.
He thrust his still-bleeding palm toward Merrabel and spat out a string of distorted syllables, the last a shout that ripped from his throat. Another pop and this time Illi felt queasy. One of the soldiers threw up.
Merrabel stiffened. Heat flared nearby and a moment later Merrabel’s waist glowed. Charms. They held steady beneath Heru’s attack.
The soldiers had backed away, but now they formed up around Merrabel, swords pointed at Heru, as if they could do anything. The caravan leader continued to stand as witness to the fight, even as the caravan slowly left them behind. At least that meant there would be fewer casualties.
“Is that all, he Fet?” taunted Merrabel through gritted teeth.
“What are you doing?” asked Illi. “Why are you taunting him?”
“Sametket,” snapped Heru and he reached and yanked.
Illi stumbled forward, but caught herself. Merrabel was less lucky. Some of the spheres she’d taken from Heru flew from the pouch at her waist, spinning through the air and leaving glowing streaks in their wake. They hit Heru’s waiting palm and he closed his fingers around them, eye glaring with anger—and determination.
In that moment, Illi knew exactly what Heru was going to do.
“No!” she yelled, taking one step forward, then another. “Don’t!”
Heru’s eye flicked to her and for a heartbeat, some of that anger waned. Then Merrabel laughed and Heru squeezed his fist and the glass shattered, releasing the guul.
Their orange light smeared to red, then black, as the guul burst free. They were more jaan than guul now, free of their corpses. But these were far stronger and more dangerous than any jaan found on the sands or in the Wastes. These could plan and think and attack.
The three guul blurred through the air, rushing Merrabel and churning up dust and rocks. One rock grazed Illi’s cheek and she winced. Nearby, Captain Amilcem cried out and grabbed at her arm, which had been grazed by a r
ock. When Amilcem lifted her hand to free her sword, her fingers were smeared red with blood.
But Merrabel remained unconcerned. With another laugh, she lifted a hand and swatted the rushing guul away like so many troublesome flies. Two swung around and rushed back to Heru. The third collided with Amilcem.
Her scream sliced through the air, sharp and abrupt and already gone. Her eyes widened and she sucked in a breath but when her lips moved, no sound came out. She fell to her knees, the cut on her arm pouring out smoke and widening with light. Part of Illi stared in horror while another part recited her lessons about jaan with calm precision. A wild jaani could possess, but the dissonance between it and the body’s own jaani caused madness. A guuli was stronger. It could overpower the body’s jaani. But it was too strong for its own good and inevitably destroyed the body as well.
Amilcem’s eyes brightened. Blazed. The other soldiers backed away as she tried to stand. When she opened her mouth again, smoke poured out. Her mouth widened further, unhinging. Glowing cracks spread up her arm and across her face. Deepened. Spread.
It was too late to help the captain. Amilcem burst, dissolving into a mixture of fire and flesh and bone. Heru hardly seemed to notice even as the soldiers screamed, as Illi screamed. The other two guul had returned to his upraised, still-bleeding hand, and now he swept them back toward Merrabel. Back toward the defenseless soldiers.
I can help.
Illi didn’t wait for the guul to take another victim. This time when she felt something reaching from her, she didn’t fight it. Her chest hummed and her bracelets rattled against her skin, hot as breath, even as a sense of rightness filled her.
Illi saw the guul—both with her sight and this strange, extra sense. To her eyes, they were streaks of darkness, angry whorls that cut the air. To her other, newer sense, they were bright dots of heat. Of warmth. Of life. Illi wrapped her will around both as Merrabel raised a hand to deflect them once more. Illi braced herself. Then she clenched her fists and her will.
