by K A Doore
But that hadn’t been what Merrabel meant. Illi pressed her lips tight, unsure how to answer. Merrabel grabbed her chin and yanked her head up, forcing Illi to stare into those glass-pale eyes.
“Are you sane?”
“Yes,” said Illi.
Merrabel let go but didn’t step back. This close, her musty breath made Illi gag.
Without taking her gaze off Illi, she said, “Your assistance in locating my charge is appreciated, Guard Canthem. Go, tell the rest of the guard to ready to leave within the hour. I’ve received some disturbing reports of guul in the foothills. Captain Yufit is already on his way with his own force. You’ll join him. You’re dismissed.”
Canthem bowed, their fingers spreading in that ridiculous birdlike way. Illi didn’t laugh. Instead, her chest tightened as she watched them go. It hadn’t been her choice to send them away this time and a part of her wanted to defy Merrabel and leave with them. What if they were wrong, and the assassin had been contracted for them?
Yet the other part of her knew Canthem was right, and knew they could handle themself. Besides, Illi was more of a danger to them than anything else in this city. Hadn’t she just proven that when she’d taken the assassin’s jaani?
As soon as Canthem was gone, Merrabel asked, “What did you do?”
“I was attacked by an assassin.”
Merrabel shut her eyes and let out a tightly held breath. When she reopened them, she seemed no less furious. “We’ve been over this before. If you lie to me or evade the question again, I will turn you out. And now you’ve seen the danger you’re in, the danger that’s outside of these walls and my control.”
Did you send the assassin? Illi wanted to ask, but the words stuck to her tongue.
“Someone must have seen you arrive,” continued Merrabel. “They noted my absence in court and put the two together. All they had to do was wait for you to leave.” Her tone sharpened. “Which you should never have done. So I ask again: that wound—what did you do?”
“I healed it,” said Illi. “And then I killed the assassin.”
“With the sajaami?”
“No. With poison.” It wasn’t a lie, so Illi was able to meet Merrabel’s gaze straight on. “But … healing that cut made me weak. I passed out. That’s why Canthem had to carry me.”
Merrabel pressed her lips tight together, eyes searching Illi’s face. Then she said, “Yes. I’m surprised that’s all it did. Just because the sajaami is healing your body doesn’t make you invincible, Illi. Every crack is a weakness the sajaami can use against you. The markings and the bracelets are keeping the sajaami in check, but only just barely. If your body is damaged too much, the sajaami will break free. It will destroy you. That’s all it wants.”
“It wants to destroy much more than just me,” said Illi, remembering Nejm’s hatred and anger. Then, with a sudden urgency, she added, “But we don’t have to destroy it. I know what we need to do now, what we can do. We don’t destroy the sajaami—we make it cross over. If there are ways to help guul make the crossing, then we can find a way to adapt the seven-year rite to a sajaami.”
The seven-year rite. As the words left her lips, panic unrelated to the attack, unrelated to Merrabel, unrelated, even, to the sajaami, began to rise within her.
“What day is it?” she asked just as Merrabel opened her mouth to speak. Illi turned, checked the sky, tried to remember what phase the moon had been when they’d left Ghadid. “How long until the shortest day?”
“That’s a superstition,” said Merrabel dismissively. “The rite can be performed on any day of the year. But I was going to say—”
Illi counted and counted again. Two weeks with the caravan. Eight with Merrabel. No, no, it couldn’t be too late. “How long?”
Merrabel sighed. “Nine days.”
“It’s not too late.” Illi felt as if someone had tossed a glass vial her way and she’d somehow caught it. She hadn’t missed the rite. She could still make it back to Ghadid in time if she left today. If she rode hard, she would have a day or two to find an answer. And she knew the answer was close, knew it in the sajaami’s evasions and sudden anger.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Merrabel. “We don’t have time to prepare for a rite. We’re needed in the foothills.”
Illi blinked. For the first time, she took in Merrabel’s attire; it was a little strange that the general was wearing a full wrap, as well as her red cloak, gloves, and boots, in the middle of the night.
“But that’s what your guard are for.”
“Yes, I will need them, too,” said Merrabel. “But I’d come to fetch you because, seeing as this is the first possible incursion of guul on this side of the Aer Caäs, I wish to be personally involved. And seeing as how there are already assassins after you, it couldn’t come at a better time. Don’t worry; we can continue our ongoing experiments in the field.”
But that wasn’t what Illi was worried about.
21
The camp looked as if it’d been thrown together in under an hour. Maybe it had. The shallow valley stirred with movement and noise, most of which was coming from a makeshift, circular pen at its center. Soldiers and guards alike moved with purpose around the pen, some adding heavy wooden boards to an already thick wall, some holding torches for light, and some standing watch along the perimeter of the camp.
Illi shivered under her wrap, which was inadequate for this kind of cold. Her nose had gone numb and she kept her fingers under her armpits to keep them from sharing the same fate, only bringing them out to wipe her trickling nose.
The cold blue of dawn cracked the horizon, but day’s warmth was still hours away. They’d ridden hard and fast through the dead of night and now the jagged peaks of the Aer Caäs split the sky in half: one side full of stars, the other full of stone.
At the edge of the camp, Merrabel slid from her horse and handed the reins off to a waiting soldier. She approached the pen without fear or hesitation, even as the walls shuddered beneath a heavy blow from within. Illi took her time dismounting, not ready to let the sajaami close to the guul. It was humming again, excited.
“Captain,” called Merrabel. “What’s your report?”
A man broke away from the soldiers and approached, hands loose at his sides. He wore a silver tagel, knotted high enough that his eyes barely showed. But the torchlight caught on his eyes all the same as they flicked across Illi and widened with recognition. His hand twitched toward his sword, but he caught himself and looked at Merrabel. “All contained, mar.”
If Illi hadn’t already recognized Captain Yufit by his tagel, she would have by his voice: as cold and smooth as his eyes. “Three guul total,” he continued, ignoring Illi. “They attacked a farm nearby, killed two of the farmhands and a goat. We drew the guul away and trapped them, as ordered.”
“Any surviving witnesses?”
“Another farmhand, who was smart enough to run instead of trying to fight,” answered the captain. After a heartbeat, he added, “And several goats.”
“We’ll have someone compensate the farm for their loss,” said Merrabel. “Now, show me these guul.”
“Yes, mar.”
The captain gave Illi another glance before turning and leading them toward the pen. Inside, a guuli snarled and launched itself at the wooden stakes that made up the pen’s walls. A soldier shouted back at the guuli and shoved their sword into a gap between the stakes and boards. Then the soldier shouted again, this time with surprise as their sword was yanked out of their hands and into the pen.
“Back away,” snapped Merrabel.
The soldiers turned at her voice and, upon seeing her, immediately fell into a line, one hand over their chest, the other at their side. A clacking noise came from within the pen and, as they drew closer, Illi realized one of the guul was running its talon along the wooden stakes. Testing for weakness.
Merrabel slid her gaze along the row of soldiers, then pointed at a guard just beyond them. Even though they wore the same
dull brown wrap and rusty red tagel as the other guards, Illi immediately recognized Canthem.
“You,” said Merrabel, drawing Canthem toward her with a hooked finger. “We’ll need bowls and clean water. Bring those. The rest of you,” she said to the soldiers, “will fall back. Keep any civilians from getting near and otherwise stay out of my way.”
Canthem’s gaze flicked to Illi, but they didn’t dare hesitate. They nodded once before turning with the other soldiers and giving Merrabel space. The general breathed deep as she paused in front of the pen, one gloved hand raised, as if in greeting. Then she dropped her hand and began rummaging through her belt pouches. She moved with an energy Illi hadn’t seen since she’d first met Merrabel.
This close to the pen, Illi didn’t need the sajaami to feel the three bright spots of heat. They were strong, stronger than any guul she’d encountered before. Illi’s chest hummed and it took her a moment to realize that the charms around her neck were vibrating.
“Why haven’t your guards quieted them yet?” asked Illi. “Why did they only capture them?”
“Because I ordered them to.” One of the guul clattered past, its talon briefly piercing through the space between the slates, inches from Merrabel, but the general remained as still as stone. “We have a unique and profound opportunity in these guul, Illi, an opportunity no one has ever had before. We might finally be able to understand the relationship between the sajaam and the guul. These are the first guul ever caught on this side of the Aer Caäs, the first guul I’ve captured. Bringing them back from the Wastes has always proven too dangerous. But now we’ll finally be able to test the full extent of the sajaami’s capabilities.”
Illi peered through a gap in the slates at the guul trapped within. These looked far more human than any of the guul she’d fought before. In lieu of their usual collection of body parts from various species, these wore almost entire human bodies, with scavenged vulture talons and jackal jaws. One had jammed jagged stones into its shoulders and down its back, but it still looked remarkably human. Which made these guul far more horrible, because Illi knew exactly where those bodies had come from.
“But … why?”
Merrabel turned her gaze on Illi, lips pursed in a frown. “We’ve been over this, Illi. I’m beginning to question my initial evaluation of your intelligence.”
“No, I mean—we have an answer now,” said Illi. “We need to help the sajaami cross over. How is any of this going to help with that?” Illi gestured widely, taking in the pen as well as the soldiers and hills. She could feel time slipping through her fingers, precious and fleeting.
“It’s not,” said Merrabel. “Because that’s not our goal. I already told you that I disagree with your assessment. We must continue to understand the sajaami before we can find a way to destroy it.” Merrabel unlatched a pouch from her belt and turned away. “Come.”
Merrabel walked around the pen until she reached a place where a board was secured to the next by a lock and a length of thick chain instead of nails: a gate. She stopped and spilled salt from her pouch on the ground in front of the gate. She slipped a knife across her forearm and stained the salt red with her blood. Then she pressed her other hand against the wound until Canthem returned with a bowl of water and a clean cloth. After she cleaned and bound her wound, she unlocked the chain and opened the gate.
The guuli that had been testing the slates was already there, talons reaching for their faces. Illi jerked back but there was no need; the guuli hit an invisible wall. It spit and hissed its irritation, but didn’t try again. The other two tested their way forward, but Merrabel held up her hand, still stained with her own blood, and spat words at them. They edged back.
“Take them,” ordered Merrabel. “Make them obey you.”
Illi gritted her teeth. “I don’t see what this has to do with destroying the sajaami.”
Merrabel ignored Illi and gestured at Canthem. “Guard, stand behind us. We can’t risk these guul escaping.”
“But the salt—” started Illi.
“Salt can be smudged,” said Merrabel. “Everything will be fine as long as you control the guul.”
“This is a waste of time.”
“Then you’d better be quick.”
Merrabel shoved Illi over the line of salt and into the pen. Illi cried out but caught herself before she could stumble and fall. Behind her, Canthem shouted a warning. But Illi was already dodging the first guuli, its talons slicing her wrap but only grazing her side. The second and third wakened from their daze and rushed her. Illi grabbed for the knife she’d taken off the dead assassin, but her hand found only belt and cloth. She glanced at Merrabel for help, but the general was waving a knife. Her knife.
Illi gritted her teeth, but she didn’t have time for anger. She dodged one guuli, blocked another, and then her back hit the pen wall. She was trapped.
“Illi!” warned Canthem.
The third guuli’s claws came for her face. Illi closed her eyes and let the sajaami reach. She waited for the bite of those claws across her cheek, but it never came. All three guul had stopped. She could feel each of them like a pulse in her palm. Hot and alive and straining against her will and so very, very tempting. But they stayed still.
“Good.” Merrabel’s voice drifted to her from across the pen. “Now make them obey.”
Illi opened her eyes. She was trembling, her wrists burning from the bracelets, the blisters reopening. She could barely hold these three guul as it were. “No.”
“You seem to be under the impression that my orders are optional.”
Merrabel slashed her arm again with Illi’s knife, opening a long, narrow wound that soon brimmed with bright red blood. Canthem shifted uneasily on the other side of the salt, their hand on their sword. Merrabel’s lips moved wordlessly and her hand swept the pen, taking in the three guul. Illi felt her control slip just before the guul were wrenched from her grasp.
She stumbled, her back hitting the stakes. Dizziness washed over her as fresh blood trickled down her wrists and between her fingers. The guul were moving away, if jerkily.
“We’re going to try this again,” said Merrabel, her breathing strained. She stepped back and her foot smudged the line of salt. She glanced down, saw the damage, then said, “Well. Shit.”
The guul broke free of her control. They rushed Merrabel. She threw her arms up, as if that would be enough to stop them. But they never had a chance to try. Movement blurred and then Canthem was standing between Merrabel and the guul, their sword deflecting one and catching the arm of another. But the third seized their opening and claws came for Canthem’s neck.
“No!”
This time when Illi reached, she swatted the guuli back. It whimpered, ducking its head as if it were a submitting dog. But the other two pushed around the suddenly docile one and continued at Canthem. Illi knew she didn’t have the strength or finesse to stop all three, so she wrapped her will around the first and pushed.
Protect.
The guuli snarled and raised its claws, but instead of striking Canthem, it hit one of the other guul. Canthem took the second, their sword separating its human head from its human body. Illi pushed the other guuli on, encouraging its relentless attack on its brethren. Her wrists burned, but the pain was less than she’d expected; directing the guuli’s rage was far easier than trying to stop it.
Canthem’s gaze flicked between Illi and the remaining, uncontrolled guuli. Illi nodded. They moved behind it and beheaded the guuli in one easy motion. It was too simple a reaction to pluck the guul from their bodies before they untethered, to take their warmth for her own.
The last guuli swiped the air where the other had been, then spun and locked gazes with Illi. In that heartbeat, Illi was back in Heru’s lab, trying to step out of the way of thirteen angry glares.
These blazing eyes held no anger, not anymore. They blazed with something else. Awe. Fear. Worship.
Illi felt the guuli in her skin and bones, energy and will b
ound together in its purest form. A spark of life, a piece of G-d, if the myths were to be believed. If it truly was a piece of G-d, then what did that make her, bending it to her will?
The sajaam decided they would rather be G-d. Mo’s voice came to her across all those miles, reciting the story of the first healer.
Who wouldn’t want to be G-d? said a different voice, much closer.
Bile rose in Illi’s throat. Not her, never her. All she wanted was to protect her home, her family. She didn’t need to be G-d to do that. She just needed to be herself. She just needed to go home.
A slap rang out through the sudden silence, followed by a second and a third. It took Illi another moment before she realized it was Merrabel. Clapping.
“Excellent.” Merrabel approached the last guuli, her fingers still dripping blood. “That was most illuminating. I wasn’t quite certain you’d be able to take control in time, but it seemed that sufficient motivation helped you focus. Do you realize what you’ve done? You’re controlling a guuli with no formal training. A task that would take decades of study took you mere seconds. Just imagine what we can—Illi? What are you doing?”
Illi had crossed the space between her and Merrabel. She drew Merrabel’s sword, then turned back to the guuli as Merrabel sputtered her surprise, ignoring her words.
Words. The sword didn’t have the proper words engraved into it to trap the guuli. Illi tightened her grip. No matter. The sword had her.
Illi swung. At the same time, she guided the guuli with her will, forcing it up, into the skull. The blade connected with its neck, separating its head from its body. The head hit the soft dirt with a wet thwack. The body thudded to the ground a moment later.
Illi reached, felt the guuli still contained within the head. Trapped, for now. Then she let go. Her arm fell, the weight of the sword dragging it down. Illi stared at the corpse, dry flecks of red the only blood it had left. Exhaustion swept through her like a breeze.
“What a waste,” said Merrabel, surveying the damage. “We could have learned so much from that guuli. Well, no matter. Now that guul have crossed the Aer Caäs once, they’ll certainly do so again. We can set up camp here and continue our experiments. Guard Canthem, go fetch the captain. We’ll need to begin preparations immediately.”
