The Impossible Contract

by K A Doore

  “I made sure you hadn’t hurt yourself.” Mo hefted her exhausted gaze from the sand to peer at Thana. “He knows who you are. I didn’t tell him. He must have figured it out during the fight.”

  “Yeah. My tagel came loose. It doesn’t really matter now. Here”—Thana pulled the waterskin, sloshing, to them—“you need to heal yourself before you lose any more blood.”

  Mo laid the wooden stake across her lap, then held out her cupped hands for a splash of water. She closed her eyes and the water began to bubble and glow a faint blue. When Mo spoke again, her voice was stronger, more sure.

  “Who is he?”

  Thana blinked. “I thought you knew—he’s the Empress’s—”

  Mo interrupted her with a sharp shake of her head. The water was disappearing from her cupped palms, its cool glow mingling with the warmth of the firelight. “He’s not an ordinary marabi. It’s not my place to judge others, but what I’ve seen him do.…” She glanced at the camel standing peacefully nearby, its eyes open and staring. “That creature isn’t natural. And when he controlled those monsters, he used blood.”

  “At least it was his own,” said Thana. “But I agree. It’s unsettling.”

  The blue glow flickered, then brightened. Mo shook her head again. “It’s not just that. Blood is mostly water, which means his magic is similar to a healer’s. But blood is far more dangerous, because there’s an inherent connection to the life it came from. He should be able to heal, but I haven’t seen him try. He quieted the jaan within those poor men, but the way he did it worries me.”

  Thana opened her mouth to tell Mo that she had good reason to worry, to tell her about the whore Heru had bound to his will back in Ghadid, the charms he’d shattered, the things he’d threatened her with, and the admission he’d made about controlling jaan and men alike—and then she closed her mouth. Heru’s warning beat in her mind like a drum: details that our healer doesn’t need to know. If she shared what she knew about Heru, then what would stop him from telling Mo about Thana’s contract?

  For a brief, dangerous moment, Thana contemplated telling Mo everything. Heru was concerned about what Mo thought of him, after all. Why should Thana care if Mo knew she was an assassin? But as soon as the thought solidified in her mind, a wave of fear washed over her. Mo was a healer. She wouldn’t even let Heru get hurt. What would she do if she knew Thana was here to kill him?

  Thana could already see the revulsion on Mo’s face, the way she’d draw away. If Mo knew, she’d treat Thana the same way she treated Heru: with cold, clinical indifference. The mere thought of Mo drawing away like that twisted something deep inside Thana. She’d rather liked the way Mo had been warming toward her.

  Besides, Mo would try to stop her, and Thana couldn’t have that. She still had a contract to complete and she wouldn’t let anything get in the way of that. Not Djet, not his bound, and certainly not a pretty healer she hardly knew.

  So instead, Thana closed her mouth and shrugged. “I don’t know. I leave that kind of thing up to the marab—and the healers, of course.”

  Mo pursed her lips. The wound glowed a watery blue as threads of light flitted beneath her skin. “Just—be careful. I don’t think he has your best intentions at heart. I wouldn’t put it past him to pull something when we arrive at Na Tay Khet. He’s not a good man.”

  “Who’s not?”

  Thana and Mo both started. Mo touched her wound as she turned, the blue fading. It had mostly closed, the violent red gone from her skin, but it could have used another minute or two. Mo didn’t take more water.

  Thana tried not to glare at Heru. The brazier’s firelight had ruined her night vision, but she could make out his hunched shape against the stars. Although she couldn’t see his face to judge for sure, by the way he wasn’t pulling the jaan out of either of them, he must not have overheard the earlier part of their conversation.

  “Djet,” said Mo stiffly. “We were talking about Djet.”

  Heru sat next to them and crossed his legs. “Of course he’s not.” He looked at the brazier. “Is the tea done yet?”

  “We were just putting the water on,” said Thana. She pulled the skin to her and poured water into the pot. “Where’d you go?”

  “I found some footprints and followed them to their inevitable conclusion,” said Heru.

  “They were probably Mo’s,” said Thana, annoyed. “Why did you send her off on her own, anyway? There could’ve been bandits. Or more bound.”

  Mo laid a hand on Thana’s arm. “It was my idea. Don’t blame him.” For this, her gaze seemed to add.

  “Why?” asked Thana. “How did you even find water?”

  Mo and Heru both looked at Thana with surprise. “I’m a healer,” said Mo. “Every healer can find water, if there’s water to be found.”

  She leaned over and unhooked a small bowl from the skin, filled the bowl with water, and handed it to Thana. When Thana hesitated, she added, “There’s a well, not more than a half hour’s walk east. We’ll have to fill up again before we continue, so go ahead and drink as much as you need.” She ran a hand along the side of the skin, her fingers finding and snagging on a poorly patched rip in its side. “All we have is this skin, and it had a hole in it. I’ve done what I can, but it’s still leaking. Even with a full skin, between three people we’ll still be out of water in a day or two.”

  Guilt flushed Thana’s cheeks. She looked down. She could feel Heru’s accusing stare on her—he knew, even if Mo didn’t—as she watched the moisture bubble and ooze from the poorly sutured rip. It must’ve been ripped further during their flight and there was only so much some string could do. Thana sipped from the bowl. The water was brackish and sour and filled with grit that grated between her teeth. But it was water, and she couldn’t stop drinking once she’d started. Mo refilled the bowl twice, then passed it to Heru.

  “They weren’t hers,” said Heru suddenly, between sips. “The footprints. They led north, not east. They brought me to some very terrified sand fleas living nearby. We can use their shelter for the night.”

  Mo stood up so fast that some of the water in her bowl sloshed over its sides. “There are people here?”

  “I assume they maintain the well,” said Heru. “They won’t bother us. I made it overtly clear that they should make themselves scarce for the duration of our stay.”

  “What did you do to them?” asked Thana before she could stop herself.

  The edges of Heru’s mouth twitched upward. “Nothing. We merely had a civil disagreement.” He stood, brushing off his wrap with fluttering hands. “Come. I need proper rest and we won’t get that out in the open. We’ll drink and sleep. Then, when we’re well-rested, we can make our own skins and continue our journey.”

  “Why don’t we ask these people how far the nearest city is?” said Thana. “Perhaps we’re only a day’s ride out, or there’s another well on the way.”

  “In my presence, they were non-verbal. If you believe you can talk to these simple and primitive sand fleas, be my guest.” Heru turned to his camel. “But it’s my sincere hypothesis that you’re only wasting your time.”

  * * *

  “Maybe you shouldn’t have called them sand fleas,” suggested Thana. “At least, not to their faces.”

  Heru grunted. His bound camel trotted across the sand, easily carrying all three of them, its energy unflagging despite its slowly decomposing body. Mo had talked the “sand fleas”—a couple and their son—into allowing them to spend the rest of the night and the following day sheltered in their home. The woman had pressed clean water into Mo’s hands, calling Heru a demon and begging Mo to leave him for someone better. Like her son.

  According to the couple, Na Tay Khet was still a three days’ journey away. Heru was confident they could make it in one. They’d ridden nonstop since taking their leave the evening before. Thana’s fingers grew numb, followed by her hands, as she clutched at Mo’s sides and the saddle for long, unchanging hours at a time. The night�
��s chill only deepened, drawing on what little strength Thana had gathered from their rest.

  Soon, the eastern horizon lightened, then blossomed with deep blue. Light spread across the sky in waves and suddenly Thana could see the details all around. The endless sand had changed overnight to a landscape punctuated by scrub and short trees. To the north and south stood short hovels. Between them, clusters of date palms stretched like fingers to the sky.

  Then the land dipped and the sky paled and to the east, something vast peeked over the horizon. Like a dark stain, the city of Na Tay Khet spread across sand and hills. An occasional tower sliced through the sky and the massive, shining structure at its center hulked like a couched camel. As the sun rose, that structure blazed like a second sun.

  The sand resolved into a path, then a road compacted by many travelers over many years. Heru dug his heels into the camel’s side, urging it faster even as the road grew crowded. Na Tay Khet’s wall was vast, built from many thousands of broad sandstone slabs, each easily as tall and wide as their camel. Farmers and caravans and merchants with their wagons clogged the road as they approached one of a dozen gates along the wall.

  Heru careened through the choking mass of dust and foreign grumblings until even his camel was forced to slow and stop. Still, he kicked the beast a few times before giving up. An order to the chaos soon became obvious. They’d joined a shifting, mutating queue that would eventually take them up to and through one of the gates.

  Thana tried not to stare at the people and beasts thronging them, but it was all so fascinating—and so much. Most of them appeared desert-worn, their clothing and skin and hair covered in a fine layer of dust. A handful of travelers were almost pristine, clothes and jewelry shining with care, hair uncovered and well-kept, beasts unburdened. These must be the drum chiefs of Na Tay Khet. She tilted her head back to take in the whole wall, now stretching high above them. How many drum chiefs must a city this size have?

  As the crowd’s jostling worsened, they were forced to dismount. Thana leaned on the camel for support as the sun lurched higher and higher. They’d crossed countless miles over the course of one night, yet the last mile to the gate was taking them most of the morning. Her head swam and the wound on her arm had started throbbing again. Despite their long rest and extra water, she was still weak and exhausted. Now, at least, she knew better than to close her eyes for any length of time. Even with them pried open, the ground swayed dangerously.

  While they waited, inching along, she retrieved the small bag she’d salvaged from Melwa. A pang of grief, sudden and unexpected, shot through her at the memory of her camel. She paused a moment to send up a brief prayer for the camel’s jaani, then rifled through the bag for her rings. Their gentle weight on her fingers was reassuring. When Mo was preoccupied by a scuffle between two merchants, Thana slipped the folded cloth containing her poison darts into the pocket of her wrap, safely nestled next to her garrote.

  After that, she kept an eye on Heru as the line inched nearer the gate, Mo’s warning thudding in her head like a drumbeat. What would Heru do, now that he was home? This was his city; he knew the layout, the people, the politics. He was the Empress’s own marabi. That had meant little to her while they were in Ghadid and on the sands, but now worry gnawed ragged bites in her confidence with its sharp teeth. Here, Heru had the advantage.

  When the last group ahead of them disappeared through the gate, Thana found and held Mo’s hand. She squeezed and when Mo squeezed back, Thana felt a little stronger. She could do this. She had to do this. She would kill Heru and return to Ghadid and forever be known as the cousin who’d trekked all the way across the sands to complete her contract, the cousin who had faced monsters and sandstorms to bring down the Empress’s marabi, the cousin who had struck the first and final blow against the Mehewret Empire.

  The how still eluded her. But she had time for that yet.

  They stepped up to the gate, which was a metal lattice that hung suspended over their heads, the spikes lining its bottom an unspoken threat. The guards had positioned themselves on either side of a metal grate on the ground, already out of the way in case the gate came shrieking down.

  Two guards stood to one side, arms folded across bronze chest plates, spears propped against the wall. Their gold wraps were tied at the waist, like a half dress. They wore no tagels, but dark blue fabric cascaded from the crown of their heads down the sides, held in place by a circlet of bronze. From a distance, it had looked like impossibly straight, black hair.

  Aside from a ring of kohl around their eyes, the guards’ faces were unadorned. Every twitch of the lips or the cheeks was visible and Thana fought the urge to look away. Clearly, it wasn’t the custom here for men to safeguard their thoughts and feelings. Thana forced a nonchalance she didn’t feel as they stopped under the gate’s shadow, just a step from the metal grating and the spikes above.

  A third guard blocked their way with his spear. “What’s your business here?”

  Heru straightened and stared the guard down with familiar disdain. “To see her royal highness and present news of no small import.”

  The guard grunted. “You got to do better than that, friend.”

  “It’s true, sa, we’re here to warn—” started Mo.

  But Heru cut her off. “Do you know who I am?”

  The guard widened his stance and stiffened, ready for a fight. “You really going to try that on me?”

  Thana counted her knives and marked the places on the guard’s body that would result in either shock or significant blood loss. The bronze plate that protected the guard’s chest cut off at the armpits, displaying a pair of biceps that were each larger than Thana’s head. She’d be no match against the guard’s strength. She’d only win this fight with speed.

  The other guards grabbed their spears, and while they didn’t join the first guard just yet, they were no longer relaxed. Heru didn’t bother to look at them.

  “I am Heru Sametket, second advisory marabi to her Imperial Highness, the Empress Zara ha Khatet of the great and mighty Mehewret Empire—long may she live and reign.”

  Any annoyance or boredom in the guards was instantly gone, replaced by an electric tension like the prelude to a storm. Two stepped back.

  “I beg your pardon, friend,” said the first guard, not quite meeting Heru’s gaze. “But our captain—you must understand—he will demand some sort of proof.”

  Heru let out a tight, annoyed sigh, then slipped his hand inside his wrap. The first guard moved his spear in front of him, as if it were a shield.

  “Please don’t touch me or come any closer, sa,” he said.

  Heru huffed. “I’m showing you your proof.” He flicked open a short roll of vellum and held it up for the guards to inspect.

  The first guard leaned forward, eyes scanning the skin. Thana craned her neck, trying to read what was on it, but only caught some excessively complicated script before Heru was rolling the vellum up again. He tucked the scroll away and crossed his arms.

  “Th-that is sufficient,” said the guard. He glanced to his companions for help, but both of them had already backed away. “You may pass, Sametket-sai. Long live her Imperial Highness the Empress.”

  “She will,” said Heru.

  Leading his dead camel, Heru passed the guards. Thana followed, her hand still twined around Mo’s and her gaze trained on the ground. Heru hadn’t explained their presence, but hopefully the guards were cowed enough not to ask.

  Then Heru stopped and held up a hand. He turned back to the guards. “Oh, and I almost forgot—this healer is my guest, but this other one has come to assassinate the Empress. I would appreciate it if you arrested her.”

  15

  By the time Heru’s words had seeped through Thana’s exhaustion and she’d realized he’d betrayed her, the guards had already grabbed her. She jerked away, but tired and desert-worn as she was, she was no match against their strength.

  “Thana!” Mo started forward, only to freeze wi
th her hands held before her when a guard pointed his spear at her chest.

  “Stay back,” warned Thana. Then to Heru, “What do you think you’re doing? This isn’t funny.”

  Heru didn’t even bother to meet her gaze. “This woman has on more than one occasion voiced in my company her desire to find and kill the Empress. It’s my understanding that she was sent by her masters to accompany me here so that she could assassinate our great Empress and declare open war on our Empire. I befriended her so that I could keep her close and turn her in at the most opportune time. To preserve the Empress and the Empire at large, it would behoove you to lock her away. A trial would be nice, but it’s not necessary. This is, of course, a direct order from her Imperial Highness’s second advisory marabi.”

  “What?” said Thana. “That’s—dust! I never said anything like that! Why would we want to kill the Empress? That would be suicide.”

  Mo chewed her lip, brow creased with worry. She looked from Heru to Thana and back again, weighing what Thana had told her only a day earlier versus what Heru was saying now.

  “We had a deal!” snapped Thana.

  Heru finally looked at her, self-satisfaction oozing from every pore. “I haven’t broken any deals.”

  Thana could only stare, amazed at his audacity. But it was true. Heru hadn’t divulged her real secret, even if he’d guaranteed her execution. The en-marabi was more clever by far than she’d given him credit for.

  “Come.” A guard tugged her arm up and behind her back. “Don’t make us do anything you’ll regret, rat.”

  “Let her go.” Mo raised her makeshift staff, the wooden stake she’d taken to carrying with her. “She’s innocent. She’s not here to kill the Empress—let her go.”

  Fear pulsed through Thana, sharp as glass. She couldn’t let Mo protect her. Mo would only get herself hurt. Besides, Thana was here to kill someone, even if it wasn’t the Empress.

  “Mo—don’t. Please.”

  “But Heru is wrong. You’re here to help us find Djet, not kill this Empress.”