by K A Doore
“What is it?” she asked. “How much water does it contain? And why? Is this where Hathage keeps its reserve, out in the open air where anyone can steal it?”
Canthem laughed. Illi took a step back from the edge, clasped her hands behind her back, and waited. Their laughter faded awkwardly into silence.
“You’re serious.”
“I am. This isn’t possible. The water should seep through the sand or evaporate or … was there a storm recently? Maybe I didn’t hear the thunder.”
“I—it doesn’t. The sea is just the sea. It’s always there. I don’t know how much water it has, but the ships that dock at our port sail for weeks along the coast. The sea hasn’t always been this high.” Canthem prodded the wall with the toe of their boot. “A few centuries ago, the people who lived here built this wall in a desperate attempt to keep the sea from flooding the city. They’d built walls farther out, even ditches and levees, but none of those could stop the sea.”
Illi didn’t know what sailing meant, but she could picture weeks of travel. She tried to imagine that much water, but her imagination quickly came up short. She looked down at the sea only a dozen feet away, then at the city several dozen more. They’d built the wall before the sea had reached them. And then it had kept coming.
“It’s actually gone down a bit in the last few decades,” said Canthem.
“Like the sands,” said Illi quietly.
Whoever had built Ghadid had set the city on platforms above the sands to escape the creep of dunes. The dunes had risen, but they’d also subsided. The city had started out barely a camel’s height from the sands, within reach. Now the sands were hundreds of feet away. The world had shifted and changed everywhere.
And they blamed us.
“We were one of the lucky ones, believe it or not,” said Canthem. “A lot of cities had been built along the coast once, but the sea took its tithe. It seems satisfied for now, and we’ll be fine so long as the wall stands.”
Illi considered the sea for a long moment. All that water, just out in the open for the taking. What Mo wouldn’t give for such a blessing. But Ghadid was hundreds of miles away; this water was useless to her. And useless to Illi, as long as she kept these bracelets on. Hathage didn’t have healers like Ghadid did. It seemed unfair that they’d have so much water instead.
Canthem moved closer and Illi stiffened. She’d let herself get too comfortable. It was so easy to just be around Canthem. Their very presence was reassuring, solid. Safe. A familiar pylon in these foreign sands.
Her hand found theirs. Squeezed. She’d escaped Merrabel’s lab to breathe, to relax. Canthem was safe here, in the city, where there were no guul for days. She knew; she’d’ve felt them. At the thought she reached just in case, feeling along the length of the wall even as she leaned into Canthem.
She wasn’t expecting to find anything. But she felt someone. In the tower. No, not in.
On.
Illi spun around just as the assassin threw their knife.
20
Illi yanked Canthem down. They let out a breath of surprise as a knife pinged off the nearby stone. Illi grabbed the knife, then put herself in front of Canthem, throwing out her arms to keep them back. The assassin leapt down from the tower’s roof, landing on the wall in a crouch. They wore a black tunic, belted tight, their muscular arms left exposed. A hood buried their features in shadows.
Illi was on them before they could straighten. The assassin stumbled back, moonlight flashing off a blade in each hand as they countered her assault. Illi pressed them back step by step, her attacks relentless. But even though the assassin gave ground, they kept up with her, even managed to slip in a few counterattacks. And Illi was tiring, fast.
Too fast. She was used to sparring with her cousins for hours, just as all-out. But after only a minute, her breathing was ragged, her pulse out of control. What was wrong with her?
Pain flared across her shoulder. The assassin had scored their first hit. Emboldened, they pushed her back. Illi was now the one giving ground. Blood trickled from the wound. Despite all the water in the air and below, Illi’s mouth had gone dry.
She couldn’t afford to be distracted. The assassin turned away her every blow, their own blades coming dangerously close. Illi’s arms ached. With every heartbeat, her chances of making a deadly mistake rose.
Let me help.
As the assassin turned Illi’s blade away and swept around with their own, Illi let the sajaami reach. She felt their jaani, bright as a hearth fire, strong and hot. She wrapped the sajaami’s will around it. Her bracelets flared with heat, burned. All she had to do was relax and let go. She’d feel so much better after she took that heat for her own.
But she hesitated.
The assassin’s blade caught her forearm. Sliced deep. The pain wrenched her back. Her weakened fingers let go of the knife. The assassin seized their opportunity and sliced toward her throat.
Canthem shoved her aside, caught the assassin’s arm, yanked. They twisted the knife from the assassin’s hand and drove a knee into their stomach. The assassin stumbled back, but already had a second knife out and ready. Their hood had fallen back, revealing a pale face, darting, dark eyes, and a closely cropped beard. Illi recognized this man; he’d been part of the general’s guard that had accompanied the caravan.
So why was he trying to kill Canthem?
“Usaf?” said Canthem, equally surprised.
Illi growled. She had no weapons at hand, at least no knives. But she still had the rings on her fingers and Thana’s gift. “You can’t have them.”
The assassin had the audacity to look confused. Then Canthem distracted them with a punch to the jaw. Despite the exhaustion dragging at her, Illi lunged. Her fist clipped the man’s chin, her rings breaking skin. The assassin tried to give ground, but Canthem was there, blocking his way.
The assassin’s knives flashed, but the wound on Illi’s forearm was already closing; she could afford to be a little reckless. The assassin didn’t expect her to press forward and he wasn’t ready in time; his knife only grazed her side. Then her hand slid around to the back of his neck, grabbing tight to his hair so he couldn’t get away. She brought her other hand to his mouth, but not in a punch. Just as her rings grazed his lips, she popped the top off one and white powder spilled out, sucked into the assassin’s mouth as he gasped for breath.
She let go and pushed him away. The assassin stumbled. Illi carefully put the cap back on the now empty ring. The assassin drew another knife. Illi waited, fists up. The assassin began to cough. The knife dropped. The assassin choked.
Thana had been right. It didn’t take long for the assassin to die. He gasped breathlessly for a few moments, mouth opening and closing on nothing, then his eyes rolled up into his head and his legs gave out and he crumpled to the ground. Illi waited another moment before prodding the body with her foot; the assassin didn’t respond. She was briefly tempted to roll the body over the side of the wall and into the sea; if anyone deserved to have their jaani go wild, it was someone who’d just tried to kill Canthem. But she resisted the urge. There were still lines she wouldn’t cross.
Canthem grabbed her arm. “Are you all right?” Their fingers rubbed across the dried blood on her arm, found the freshly healed skin. “What—?”
Illi yanked her arm away. “I’m fine. What about you? Did he get you at all?”
“No. But he wasn’t after me.” Canthem’s gaze lingered on Illi’s arm for another heartbeat before they lifted their gaze to hers. “That knife was aimed at you, Illi. When I tried to distract Usaf, he was still fighting through me, to get to you.” They turned to the corpse, made a strange circular gesture over their chest, and bowed their head. “May your jaani pass swiftly, but what in G-d’s infinite names were you doing, Usaf?”
“He was one of the Guul Guard.”
Canthem nodded. “It’s not unheard of. Our particular skill set is well-suited for such precise work. Someone hired him. The captain mus
t have known. That’s why…” Their gaze sharpened. “What enemies have you made?”
“None,” said Illi, baffled. “I never had a chance; I never left the lab.”
“Well, someone’s been waiting for you.”
Illi crouched and began running her hands along the body.
“What’re you doing?” asked Canthem.
“Just … checking…” Illi turned out a pocket, but all it held were a few loose coins and lint. She found another knife strapped to the assassin’s thigh, which she slid through her own belt before beginning to undo Usaf’s.
“Okay, no.” Canthem put a hand on hers. “If it’s an incriminating note you’re looking for, he wouldn’t be so stupid as to carry it around with him.”
Illi huffed her annoyance, but left the belt alone. “I’m not convinced the target was me.” But even as she said it, she remembered Merrabel’s warning if Illi left. You’re playing with lightning.… I won’t have to wait long. Would she have been so reckless as to risk releasing a sajaami in her city?
But Merrabel had said as much already. Illi just hadn’t believed her. And now her thoughts were whirling away from her, too thin to grasp. As she straightened, the world narrowed, the night closing in. She didn’t fall, but only because Canthem was so close, their body as solid as a wall. She leaned against them, waiting for the dizziness to pass. But this time it didn’t. This time it grew and it grew and it grew until it was a roar in her ears.
Illi? she thought she heard Canthem ask, but she couldn’t be certain.
Just reach.
I’m right here. Arms lifted her up, a body pressed close.
All you need to do is reach.
Put your arms around my neck. Illi tried to comply, but all of her muscles felt as if they’d fallen asleep. A tingling spread through her entire body and she knew what was happening. She’d fainted before. There was no point in fighting it.
She let it take her.
The darkness closed over her like a shroud. But unlike the handful of other times she’d fainted, she was still present. She was aware. The darkness churned like the flames in a furnace. Red smeared the air before her and it didn’t need to grow a face for her to name it.
Nejm.
That is a name I have carried with me for ages.
Is it your name?
The red tightened until it became almost tangible. Does it matter?
Names have power.
Behind the red, the darkness was thinning, clearing. Blue showed through, and beneath, endless beige.
It is a name given to me, ages and ages ago. Unlike yours, Illi Basbowen. You wear yours like a child.
I’m not a child.
To me you are.
The beige blurred, undulating like a piece of flowing fabric. Blue pulsed in the beige, haloed by green and gray. Above, clouds flitted like dreams across the sky. They darkened and threatened and dissipated in the same heartbeat, gone as quickly as they formed.
Centuries, child. Millennia. I have seen your kind come and go and come again.
The beige shifted. Darkness scattered across it as if blown by the wind. Cities, rising and falling and rising again. They overtook the blue, covered it. The clouds thinned. Stopped altogether.
We were not always at odds, your kind and ours. But in the end, that didn’t matter. You wanted what wasn’t yours. We tried to stop you.
The cities spread. New clouds appeared, but these were strange, off somehow. They sprouted as long, thin trails that dissolved almost as quickly as they’d appeared. Lights glinted in the blue sky, even in the middle of the day. The air itself seemed to thicken.
You didn’t want to be stopped.
The spots of blue thinned and disappeared altogether. The cities began to recede, but slowly. They thickened, turned dark. Smoke curdled the sky.
Then the world shrank and shrank and shrank until each grain of sand was nearly a mountain. The sky cracked and stone covered it, sealed everything in. The air was sucked away and then there was nothing.
Ages of nothing. Eons.
Why are you showing me this?
I want you to understand. The darkness thickened, then the smear of red returned. We are more alike than you think. Unique. Alone. With the world against both of us. Together, we are stronger than the world. But apart, I will always be stronger than you.
The red seethed, twin pits of darkness opening in its center. You are fragile and falling apart. You cannot destroy me and I have nothing to lose. All I have to do is wait, and I have already waited so long. But all you have to do is take off those bracelets, and you could work with me. Together we could crush all of your enemies and grind them into the dust they came from. Nobody would dare threaten you.
Why?
The red seemed to hesitate, even pause.… Why?
Yeah. Why wait? If you’re so powerful, you could overcome me at any moment.
Why waste the effort? A hint of smugness tinged Nejm’s words. Your mortal life is little more than a whisper of wind, here and gone in the same instant.
Illi couldn’t feel anything in this cold, dark space, but she mentally squared her shoulders and matched the pits of darkness with her own stare. No—that’s not how this is going to work. For one, you’re wrong. I’m not alone. I have a family, a city, that I need to protect. They are free and alive while your kind are all bound to stone. The world has moved on. No one truly fears you anymore. For another: why are you even still here? This world isn’t yours. You don’t belong here.
Now the red swirled tighter, angrier. How dare you—
There’s no point in sticking around anymore, pressed Illi. I’m not going to take off my bracelets and I’m not going to let you win. Maybe, instead of threats and coercion, you should try something new, like passing on.
The red whirled violently, blazing and brightening, overwhelming the darkness, overwhelming her. She felt Nejm’s anger like the heat of summer, oppressive and paralyzing. Yet at the same time, she felt herself reaching, stretching beyond the heat to something cold and small and dark. Then: a pop. The cold gone, but the heat lessening, receding.
You will fail. You have always failed. And when you do, I will be here.
And you’ll be alone, said Illi.
Nejm hissed, a sound that started low but quickly filled the space like the tumble of a million grains of sand—beating, beating, beating like a drum that was calling Illi elsewhen, elsewhere—
Illi gasped, opened her eyes to complete disorientation. Her body was being jostled with each step, as if she and whoever was carrying her were falling down and down and down. She stared into a bundle of bright orange fabric and she breathed in salt and cinnamon. Arms held her close. Her own arms had been looped around a neck. Her fingers tightened on damp fabric.
Nothing made sense, but already the memories were returning. She’d left the lab. Climbed the wall. Met Canthem. Been attacked. Felt dizzy. Weak—
The pieces fell together. She was in the tower and headed down the stairs. Canthem was carrying her. She could feel their pulse in their hands, in their shoulder pressed against her cheek. It was reassuring. At least they were all right.
Nejm’s anger lingered, haunting her. Illi hadn’t thought it would be possible to insult such a creature, but she’d clearly struck a chord. All she’d done was suggest it cross over, of all things.
Of all things …
Illi gasped, the sound knocked from her by Canthem’s movement. The answer was there, right there. The sajaami didn’t need to be destroyed. It needed to cross over.
The knowledge burned in her. Merrabel. She needed to tell Merrabel. The scrolls she’d read had touched on the crossing ceremony and how it might be used for wild jaan, even guul. It’d never been considered for sajaam, but why not?
It was thin, it was tenuous, but now she had a plan.
Illi started to squirm out of Canthem’s hold when they reached the street. “I can walk.”
“Can? Sure. Should? No,” said Canthem firmly.
“I don’t know what Usaf did to you, but I’m not going to risk it.”
“He didn’t—” started Illi, before stopping. Canthem didn’t know about the sajaami. If they’d reacted that poorly to her doing a little en-marabi magic, what would they think about her eating a few souls?
Cold stole over her. She’d tried to take Usaf’s jaani, but she hadn’t. Right? Yet she felt warmer now, more steady. Her mind still fuzzed at the corners, but she was thinking. And there’d been that sensation toward the end of their conversation, when she’d angered Nejm. That had just been the sajaami proving a point. Right?
But Illi couldn’t lie to herself. And she couldn’t lie to Canthem. So she let the sentence hang unfinished and she let Canthem tighten their grip and carry her all the way back to the palace. She was thankful for the small mercies of the moment: that it was dark; that she could hide her face in Canthem’s shoulder; and that none of her cousins were in the city to see this.
It didn’t hurt that Canthem smelled so nice.
Merrabel was waiting for them in the courtyard. She stood in almost the same spot as the king had when they’d first arrived, with almost the exact, rigid posture. But her expression was far more furious.
“I ordered you not to leave.” Merrabel’s voice was even and clear and all the more terrifying for it.
“We were attacked by an assassin, mar,” announced Canthem. Then, to Illi, “Do you think you can stand?”
Of course I can stand, she wanted to say. But they’d just saved her and carried her halfway across the city and even though she knew she should drive that wedge between them again, she couldn’t find the energy. “Yes.”
As Canthem set Illi on her feet, Merrabel crossed the space between them and grabbed Illi’s arm and yanked back the sleeve. Her fingers found and examined the silver bracelet, then pushed and prodded up her forearm. Illi started to pull away, but Merrabel’s grip tightened. Her thumb brushed across the recently healed flesh of the assassin’s cut and she hissed.
“How are you still alive?”
Illi had expected a dozen and more questions, but not that one. Thankfully, Canthem answered, “She’s fast, mar. And well-trained.”
