by K A Doore
Canthem slid the halter over the horse’s head and tightened the knots. Then they led the horse out of the stall and into the center of the barn. They gave it a few whispered words and soothing pats before settling a blanket on its back.
“What I don’t understand is why the general would send Usaf after you.” Canthem lifted a saddle from a pile against the wall. “She of all people must understand how dangerous the sajaami is.”
“She understands,” said Illi. “That’s why she wants it. I can only guess that she was getting impatient.”
But Canthem shook their head. “Usaf left the barracks shortly after the general returned.” They finished tightening the strap that went beneath the horse’s belly, then straightened and met Illi’s gaze. “Usaf was in the city the entire time you were.”
Illi sucked in a breath. “He was just waiting. Merrabel had no intention of ever letting me leave.”
“And yet, here we are.” Canthem gave the horse an appreciative pat. “I will do my best to keep you safe, Just Illi.”
Illi smiled. “I can keep myself safe. Just … keep me company.”
Canthem raised both eyebrows at that, but before they could comment, a shadow shifted outside. Illi stepped back into the darkness of the stall, the penknife in hand, just as Captain Yufit entered the barn. Canthem bowed, spreading their fingers wide behind them, then straightened and coughed.
“Sa.”
But the captain wasn’t looking at Canthem. He was looking into the stall, directly at Illi. Even in the wan light, Illi could see that his eyes were a liquid gray. “Will you kill her?”
Illi lowered the penknife. “Sa?”
“The general,” said the captain, annoyed. “Do you plan on killing her?”
“No,” said Illi.
Captain Yufit considered her for a long moment, then drummed his fingers against his thigh and narrowed his eyes. “But she has no such reluctance about you. I was there when the messenger arrived for Usaf. I overheard what he’d been instructed to do, if not to whom. That’s why I sent Canthem into the city, to keep an eye on Usaf and stop him if needed. I can’t allow my guards to commit murder.”
“If your general ordered it, does it count as murder?” asked Illi.
“Yes,” said the captain. “I’ve kept a close watch on you since you arrived and as far as I’m aware, you’ve committed no crimes and shattered no oaths. Yet. But if you and Canthem walk out that door and break a man out of jail, you will have. And then I won’t be able to defy the general’s orders. So I ask again: will you kill her?”
“With respect, sa, I already said no,” said Illi. “Merrabel can attempt to kill me again if she wants, and if she tries herself I can guarantee I’ll shove a knife through her throat, but I see no reason to preempt her. She just wants to protect her home, by whatever means possible.” Illi spread her hands. “I can respect that.”
The captain tilted his head, watching her as if she might still change her mind. Then his eyes brightened with a smile.
“Things truly have changed since I left Ghadid.”
Illi’s stomach twisted and she smelled smoke and fire, heard screams. She tightened her fists until her nails cut into her palms and she breathed. “You’d be surprised by how much Ghadid has changed.” Then, struck by sudden inspiration, she added, “Why don’t you come see for yourself?”
The captain stepped back as if Illi had physically pushed him. His eyes flicked left and right, before settling on a point not far above Illi’s head.
“No, I—that wouldn’t be wise.”
“Why not?” pressed Illi. “Merrabel’s down to one guuli bound to a skull, and she’s got more than enough soldiers for that. If you stay, you’ll only be complicit in whatever she’s planning next. And I’m sure it’s going to include more than just a little murder.” When the captain remained stubbornly silent, Illi added, “Drum Chief Amastan could find a place for you.”
She dropped Amastan’s name as casually as a rock, and the captain’s reaction told her more than any words. He stammered incoherently, then looked away and shook his head. But he didn’t say no again.
“We could use the extra sword, sa,” said Canthem from beside the horse. “Four will be safer than three. It’s a long road and we’ll be riding fast, so we could use someone with as much experience as you. And you’re not disobeying any orders, not directly. We’re to see travelers safely through the Wastes, any who ask. Illi is asking, sa.”
“To see it again,” said the captain slowly, softly, as if savoring the words. “I’ve camped below, with other caravans, but I’ve never been back up on the platforms.”
“There’d be no hiding this time, sa,” said Illi. “I can introduce you to Amastan myself.”
“Asaf,” said the captain.
“What?”
“Nothing.” The captain took a deep breath, then nodded. “Perhaps it’s time I stopped hiding. I overheard everything you said about the sajaami. I’ve dedicated my life to stopping monsters and if the general refuses to do so herself, then I will have to step in. You will have my sword.”
“Glad to have you with us, sa,” said Illi, stepping around the captain and out of the stall. “Looks like we’ll need another horse. And where do you keep your weapons?”
23
Heru Sametket looked for all the world as if he were in his own lab back in Ghadid instead of locked inside a tiny jail cell. He’d found a pebble and was busy scribbling across the solid rock wall at the rear of his cell, his back to the door. The wall was crammed with tiny, precise marks—letters and numbers and symbols from ceiling to floor.
He didn’t turn as the jailer led Illi and Canthem down the short hall to his cell. Captain Yufit had gone to trade their horses for camels and acquire supplies while they addressed the problem of removing Heru. Illi took in the drab and simple surroundings: dirt floor, rock walls, metal bars. No windows. A smoking torch was the only source of light. Illi tested the bars of one cell as she passed, giving them a firm yank. Strong enough. But strong enough shouldn’t have been able to keep someone like Heru.
And yet here he still was, the edges of his white wrap blackened with dirt and dust. Sweat stains spread out from his armpits, around the base of his neck, and down the center of his back. Had he ever been so filthy in his life?
As they approached, Illi heard humming—a thin, strained sound, but a hum nonetheless. The rock continued to scratch.
“How long has he been like this?” she asked the jailer.
The short, balding man spread his hands. “He just sat and stared at me from the floor for my entire shift the first day—all seven hours of it, mar. Then he found that rock and started marking up the wall. I figured there was no harm in him writing, so I let him keep at it.”
Heru had paused at the sound of Illi’s voice and now his hand hovered in midair. Finally he turned, pivoting as if on a pedestal, until he faced them fully. Illi drew in a sudden breath at the shock of his exposed face, his tagel drawn down to his chin. A shadow spilled across his cheeks and down his neck, the beginning of a beard. His features were drawn and tight with exhaustion and dehydration, but for the span of a heartbeat, those features cracked with something else, something raw like surprise, like relief. Then that was gone, his expression smoothed over with his usual haughtiness.
“Has Barca sent you to fetch me?” he asked. “Did she finally give up on trying to solve this riddle on her own? I knew she would eventually realize how very far out of her depth she is, but I had sorely underestimated her ignorance.”
The jailer crossed his arms. “Visiting only, prisoner. I’ve received no orders to let you out.”
“You’re going to need to tell me everything she’s already tried so we don’t duplicate her efforts,” continued Heru as if the jailer hadn’t spoken. He pursed his lips. “On second thought, it would behoove us to duplicate her efforts. We can’t be too careful in these circumstances and I certainly don’t trust that she’s adhered to strict protocol
s. I don’t suppose she sent any detailed notes along, did she?”
“Merrabel didn’t send me,” said Illi.
Heru frowned. “Then why are you here?”
“I’m here to get you out.”
“If you have orders, you should have said earlier,” said the jailer, raising his voice.
“Nope, no orders.”
Illi’s elbow hit the jailer in the side of the head. He stumbled back and into the bars of Heru’s cell, one arm already up to block her next attack and the other going for his sword. Illi freed a knife, one of a half dozen the captain had found for her. The guard’s gaze fixed on the blade, which, while not his first mistake with them, was his last.
Heru stepped up to the bars. The jailer’s eyes rolled up into his head and he crumpled to the floor as if he were little more than a bag full of water. Heru pulled his bloody palm back between the bars. He dropped a jagged rock to the floor and withdrew a piece of thin white fabric from one of his pouches. This he used to wipe his palm clean, then wrap around the cut on his arm, blood staining the fabric a bright red.
Canthem stared. “What did you do to him?”
Illi dropped next to the jailer and unhooked the ring of keys from his belt.
“I utilized a simple quieting method on a still-living man, which had the intended result of bringing him under my control.” Heru finished bandaging his hand and glanced down at the unmoving body with disgust. “Although it appears it overwhelmed his system and led to a temporary state of unconsciousness. Seeing as how this accomplished the same purpose as I’d originally intended—”
The lock clicked and Illi swung the door open. “Later. We’ve got to go before anyone notices something’s wrong.”
But Heru didn’t move. He stayed just that side of the door, his lips pressed into a thin line.
“Come on.” Illi started to grab his arm, but then thought better of it.
“I … cannot.”
“What?” asked Canthem. “It’s too late to worry about the legality of it; we’ve already knocked out a guard.”
Illi’s gaze roved over the scratches on the walls. She’d assumed it was just Heru being, well, Heru, but what if they meant something? Then she remembered: Merrabel pressing her bloody palm against Heru’s, binding him to her will. No wonder he hadn’t left this pale excuse for a prison. No wonder she’d felt comfortable tossing him in here, so far from her reach. He’d never been beyond her reach.
“Yes,” said Heru gravely. “Barca bound my jaani to her will. I’ve spent my time here building a charm to break that binding. I was able to construct one despite the binding, but, given the meager materials at hand, it’s limited to the inside of this cell. If I step beyond its protection, I’ll once more be under her control. It was difficult enough the first time; I could at least circumvent her will by convincing myself I was merely doodling. But I highly doubt that will suffice a second time.”
“If we can get what you need, how long will it take for you to break the binding permanently?” asked Illi.
“Twelve to fourteen minutes, at most,” said Heru.
“All right. What should we get?”
Canthem gestured at the body slumped against the bars. “We don’t have ten minutes. Someone will notice that this guard is missing before then, and they’ll notice even sooner if we try to leave here without him.”
Illi had already assessed the length of the hall and the cells they’d passed. There hadn’t been any windows, no other way but the way they’d come in. Another guard was waiting outside that door. She could take him, it wouldn’t even be hard, but what if he called more guards? The captain had made it clear that he was only willing to break so many laws; his help was contingent upon them not making a scene.
“No chance of just using what we have at hand, is there?” asked Illi.
Heru looked down at the unconscious jailer. “Somehow I doubt either of you is carrying enough water, nor would you be pleased if I took it from this man. Either way, I would prefer not to use blood in this instance—the sympathetic link that would engender between myself and Barca would be messy. So: no. But if your concern is tied to the conscious state of this man, that can be rectified.”
A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and before Illi could stop him, Heru flexed his fingers, blood still drying beneath his nails, and muttered a few choice syllables. For the first time, Illi recognized and understood the words he used: words for binding, for movement, for control.
The jailer twitched. Canthem jumped back. The jailer’s head rolled around and then his eyes opened. But they were unfocused, unseeing. The jailer stood, the movement erratic and awkward, as if he were being pulled up by strings. It took another moment for him to assemble his limbs, and then he started walking jerkily back toward the front of the jail.
“Shards and dust, Heru,” said Illi. “That’s only going to make things worse.”
Heru shrugged. “Then you’d better hurry.”
Illi sighed. “All right. What do you need?”
“Do you have any paper?” When Illi shook her head, it was Heru’s turn to sigh. “We’ll have to rely on memory, as imperfect as it is. For one, I require a roll of vellum. I’ll also need fresh black ink—emphasis on the fresh—five glass charms, a thin length of leather, a bowl, a sponge, a bar of soap—preferably scented, preferably with mint or lime—two full water skins, and a sheep-cheese brik.”
Illi had been repeating each item in his list and frowned as she came to the last one. “What?”
“I passed a cart that sells them on my way to this jail,” said Heru. “They smelled delicious.”
“What does that have to do with making a charm?”
“Despite my best efforts otherwise, I still require sustenance,” said Heru. “The slop they gave me here was completely inedible.”
“All right,” said Illi, moving away. “I’ll be right back.”
But Canthem stopped her. “You stay. I can go. It’ll be less conspicuous if only one of us leaves.”
Illi hesitated, but only for a moment. “Be quick.”
Canthem touched her shoulder and looked briefly as if they wanted to do more, then they shook themself and left, giving the shambling jailer a wide berth. Illi kept her gaze on the door and her hand at her waist and counted to ten. At the count of nine, the door cracked open and the other guard glanced in. Illi tensed, but the guard only nodded at the jailer, asked, “All right, then?” and, without waiting for an answer, closed the door again.
Illi dropped her hand and turned to the cell. Heru stood just shy of the cell’s door, arms crossed over his chest, considering her. She met his gaze and they watched each other in silence. Heru was the first to break the silence.
“What did she do to you?” he asked conversationally.
“Enough,” said Illi. “But if you’re concerned that I’m under her control, don’t be. I escaped once I realized what she was doing.”
“Escaped?” Heru blinked. “Was Barca holding you against your will?”
“What do you think, Heru?” snapped Illi.
She took a breath, twisted one of her braids. They were so dusty. She’d redone them a few times as she leaned over the washbasin in Merrabel’s room, but they needed to be combed and cleaned and oiled, and the trip to the foothills hadn’t done them any good. She brushed her braids back over her shoulder; she couldn’t worry about hair right now.
“She never intended to help me; she only wants the sajaami. I guess I knew that from the beginning, but I’d hoped we both wanted the same thing. But no, she was just using me to control it, and to control guul.”
“I could have told you that.”
Illi sighed. “Yeah. But it wasn’t like you were going to help, either.”
“I most certainly was,” huffed Heru. “I told you it would take time and materials. Instead of being patient, you betrayed me the first chance you got.”
“I had no reason to trust you!” Illi curled her hands into f
ists. “You were purposefully keeping the sajaami so you could draw more guul from the Wastes and use them for your experiments. You were never going to do anything with the sajaami.”
“I don’t know where you are getting these baseless accusations,” said Heru, his tone clipped and angry. “I most certainly was not drawing the guul on purpose.”
“Yet you admitted to knowing that the sajaami was the cause.”
“I did not know. I had begun to suspect and I was developing an experiment to test my suspicions, but I did not know. It was not until you were able to exert such control over the guul that my suspicions even turned to theory.”
Illi crossed her arms. “Then why did you keep the sajaami for so long? Merrabel claimed you were afraid, but I didn’t believe it. Not at first.”
“I wasn’t afraid,” said Heru. “Fear is a useless emotion. I simply didn’t have the resources.”
“What else could you have possibly needed?”
“More glass, more water, more capable assistants. All the knowledge that had been lost when the Empress murdered the bulk of my colleagues.”
Illi shook her head. “You didn’t even try. Merrabel didn’t have any of that, either. But that didn’t stop her.”
“Because she had the sajaami in a convenient and easily accessible package,” snarled Heru. “One which she clearly didn’t care about breaking through experimentation.”
“That’s real rich, coming from you.”
“I never broke you.”
In response, Illi held up an arm and shook the bracelet at him. They glared at each other through the open doorway. Illi forced herself to take a breath and unclenched her fists.
“I didn’t come here to argue with you,” said Illi. “I came here because I want to find a way to make the sajaami cross over. Merrabel won’t consider it because she wants the sajaami for herself, but I’d hoped you—”
Heru actually sucked in a breath, interrupting her. “Wait. Cross over? That is—that couldn’t be—yet I see no reason why it wouldn’t be possible—” He trailed off, fingers twitching as if he could scratch notes into the air.
