The Impossible Contract

by K A Doore

  Thana swallowed hard and prayed she wouldn’t regret this later. “It … might be part of the reason I’m here.”

  The shock that cut across Mo’s face was almost worse than letting her get hurt. Thana told herself that she could pretend it was all part of a clever plan later, that Mo would understand—and forgive her. But the betrayal that followed Mo’s shock hurt more than she’d feared and for a moment, Thana knew how the bound must feel when a knife cut through their skin and severed the jaani animating their flesh. Thana looked away. Heru’s appreciative nod only made it worse. She couldn’t wait to drive a blade through that awful man’s heart.

  Thana slumped between the two guards, radiating defeat. Mo made a choked noise, but finally moved out of the way. Thana twisted her head to watch Heru stride imperiously through the gate and into the thickening crowd. Mo followed a few steps behind. She didn’t look back. In another moment, the crowd had swallowed her.

  The guards marched Thana down a street that hugged the inside of the wall. She tried to memorize every road and building they passed, but she quickly lost her bearings. It was all too new and strange and overwhelming. She was left with only the impression of both immensity and stifling closeness. The buildings stood multiple, treacherous stories tall, leaning over narrow alleys that shouldn’t have fit a single camel, let alone the crowds that funneled through them. They passed sprawling glass-less gardens that slashed like oozing green wounds through the city’s flesh.

  And then there was the noise. While Ghadid could be loud at times, the pylons forced distance between the neighborhoods and the sands drank up the rest. Here, the wall caught the sound and doubled it back, louder again by half. The sheer cacophony of crying voices and rattling carts and clanking wares and bellowing camels made Thana’s head throb.

  When they’d put more than a dozen streets between them and the gate, Thana forced herself to focus. She didn’t know how much further the prison was and she didn’t intend to find out. She counted her assets: one good arm, one throwing knife strapped to her chest, a longer knife at her thigh, a half dozen darts in one pouch, the glass charms around her waist, the garrote in her pocket, and her burning anger at Heru’s treachery.

  Thana stumbled, but the guards caught her and kept going. A second stumble earned her curses from the shortest guard. His grip tightened as he hauled her back up, then loosened again as he adjusted his grip. Just as she’d hoped.

  Thana went limp, jerking her arm out of his grasp as she fell. The guard on her other side tightened his hold and pulled up to keep her from hitting the dirt, but now one arm was free. Thana channeled all of her fury and frustration at Heru into a kick aimed at the back of the short guard’s knee. His knee gave and he fell forward with an undignified yelp of pain.

  “No you don’t,” spat the third guard, moving in to grab her.

  But the taller guard was already lifting her one-handed off the ground, annoyance plain across his bare features. Pain shot through her shoulder and down her arm as he dug his fingers into her skin. Thana sucked in a breath, twisting her body in a way that she was going to regret later, and punched the guard’s face, her rings gouging lines across his cheek.

  He let go and flung his hands—too late—to his face. Thana hit the ground. The fall knocked the breath from her lungs and scattered dark spots across her vision, but she still spun out of the way of the third guard’s lunge. Then she was on her feet and sprinting down the sandy road.

  The sound of pursuit was right on her heels. Thana didn’t dare glance back. She gauged that the guards were only a few short strides behind, but being lighter and smaller than all three of them, she was faster. But speed wouldn’t be enough if she didn’t find somewhere to hide, and soon. Already each breath shot pain through her chest and her legs felt like jelly. The excitement of capture and escape had given her a rush of energy, but exhaustion was only heartbeats away.

  Thana pivoted from the wall and into the city. The guards cursed behind her as she pushed past merchants and servants and women carrying baskets and men laughing together in doorways. The sights and sounds were so distractingly unfamiliar that it was difficult to keep her eyes trained on the path to freedom.

  Then—there! The alley opened up onto a tumultuous marketplace that sprawled across the road. People mingled, pushed, and shoved around colorful merchant stalls. Thana slid into the crowd and slowed to a walk. Not more than a few feet behind her, the guards shouted as they entered the marketplace.

  Thana ducked her head and browsed the cages of white geese and striped quail. She observed her immediate neighbors, took in how they talked and walked and gestured. She was struck first by how very pale they were and second by how little clothing they wore. She’d noticed that the guards were not as dark as she and Mo, but seeing so many with sand-toned skin brought her up short. With her full-body wrap and dark skin, she stuck out like a palm on the sands.

  Men and women alike browsed the stalls. Most of the men wore little more than a skirt at the waist, their bare chests shining with sweat. The women, too, walked around half-naked, their breasts and navels uncovered. Some wore flashing bands of gold around their wrists and necks, some had equally naked slaves in tow, and some were clearly lower rank, their skirts tattered and coarse. It was one thing to hear about the locals’ brazen customs from stories, but another thing entirely to see it. Thana’s cheeks warmed as she focused on the birds in front of her.

  Thana fought her initial impulse to tug her wrap over her head; no one here covered their hair, let alone wore a tagel. Instead, she sucked in a breath and pulled her wrap from her shoulders and retied it at her waist. She immediately felt naked and exposed. Despite the warm, cloying air, her skin erupted with goose bumps.

  The stall owner raised one kohl-thickened eyebrow, but said nothing. Kohl lined every eye here, finger-thick, despite the shade cast by the buildings. She’d have to find some if she wanted to blend in. She leaned over a crate of small white birds as the guards’ voices grew louder. She tensed, one hand hovering just above the dagger strapped to her thigh, and whispered a prayer under her breath. If they grabbed her, she wasn’t sure she could get away this time without killing one of them.

  But no one grabbed her. The guards’ voices thinned as they drifted away and soon they were swallowed by the market. Thana flashed the merchant a smile, then slipped into the steady flow of people, letting them draw her along. As she walked, taking her cues from the rhythm of the marketplace, she became more aware of just how much she stood out. How had the guards missed her? Even her simple, unadorned wrap marked her as other.

  All around her swished skirts of gold and beige and white, a steady background of sand tones that was broken by the vibrant blue of her wrap. What they lacked in color, though, they made up for in detail. Gold and silver thread traced intricate geometric designs that shimmered and flashed when they caught the light. Chained and twisted silver bracelets jangled on wrists, and gold glittered around necks and from ears.

  In among all the flash and shimmer were occasional breaks of plain fabric and bare arms. Slaves. They wore their skirts belted at the waist and kept their gazes averted. Their heads were shorn clean, so Thana could clearly see the brands that had been seared into their scalps, right above the ear. They wore neither shoes nor headwear, but they shared something in common with Thana: many of them were just as dark-skinned.

  The realization soured her mood further. The Empress merely wanted to expand her Empire and force Ghadid to pay taxes, did she? What other cities on the sands had she seized and plundered?

  Thana tightened her wrap, its edge just covering her belt of glass charms. They’d grown cold since leaving Heru and Mo behind, which had led her to realize how warm they’d been for most of her journey. Their chill was a reminder that she had to keep moving, that she had a contract to complete.

  But first, she needed to find sanctuary. She was an obvious foreigner in this strange and choking city, and as soon as word spread that the guards were
looking for someone like her, it’d become impossible to hide.

  And Mo—what about her? The healer was alone with Heru, and while Thana knew he wouldn’t try to hurt her, not yet, Djet’s bound were indiscriminate. Every moment Mo was near Heru, she was in danger. Thana could only hope she was also safest near him. He’d had every right to betray Thana—she had tried to kill him, after all. If he hurt Mo, it’d be through neglect or ignorance. Heru had been clear that he wanted her alive and near. That should mean Mo was safe—for now.

  Sanctuary. Rest. The words repeated in her head, as insistent as the beat of a calling. It was just past midday and the air was thick and stifling, but it was nowhere near as relentlessly oppressive as it had been out on the open sands. Here there was a breeze, moist and scented with something irrefutably green.

  Thana left the market behind and walked further into the city. The buildings thinned and shortened, but the crowd thickened. She passed open gardens and unguarded pools of standing water. Her stomach gnawed with hunger and her mouth was parched, yet she didn’t dare stop. She fumbled the few baats left in her pouch, but she was wary of trying to spend Ghadid’s coin. What did they even use here?

  She was choking on her own ignorance. She didn’t even know where to start. In Ghadid, she’d worn her city like a second skin. She’d known the customs, the different ways to knot a wrap and what each meant, the height and color of a tagel, the shoes of a slave. She’d known which watchmen were bribable, which healers wouldn’t ask questions, which rooftops had the best views, which walls were easiest to climb. She’d known all of that and a hundred thousand more she’d never be able to name.

  But here, now, she didn’t even know how to buy food. Panic replaced the pride she’d had when she lost the guards. With no clear idea of where to go, she just kept moving deeper into the city.

  A riot of green opened off to one side. She’d watched someone enter a similar green space earlier, so they weren’t off-limits. A dozen other invisible rules might govern them, but it was worth the risk. She stepped from the stone road onto a sandy path. The sound of splashing water pulled her across soft grass and between waist-high hedges to a shallow pool, its water so clear she could see silvery creatures swirling and flitting just beneath its surface.

  Thana savored the first handful of water, but the second and the third and the fourth she didn’t even taste. Soon, her stomach sloshed and she felt satisfied in a way she hadn’t since before joining the caravan. She was still exhausted and sore and hungry and lost, but it was a start, and this small comfort brightened her mood.

  She splashed water across her face—what a delicious luxury—then settled on her heels and watched the sleek, scaly animals dart through the water like lizards across hot stones. She could stay in the garden until nightfall, maybe even curl up and sleep beneath one of the hedges. But without glass overhead, she was exposed. Anyone could walk by and find her. No, she’d be safer off the ground. Higher up.

  She peered through the foliage, scanning for an appropriate roof. If she climbed high enough, she’d be able to see how the city was laid out. She could figure out where Heru might have gone. He worked for the Empress, which meant he either lived in the palace itself or nearby. He certainly wouldn’t live in the poorer parts of the city. And even if she was wrong, surely he’d have headed to the palace first to alert his Empress.

  A building just south of the garden appeared to fit her needs. It was several stories high with a flat roof, and its brick walls looked easy enough to climb even exhausted as she was. As she stared up at the building, gathering the will and strength to start the climb, Thana found herself longing for Amastan’s help. He’d know what to do.

  How was he? It’d been several weeks. He should be up and walking around, reading old scrolls and laughing at her father’s bad jokes. He hadn’t been happy with her decision to go it alone. Maybe he’d come after her, join the next caravan and try to find her.

  Thana closed her eyes. No. Amastan would never be that reckless. The family might take care of each other, but even they had limits. Amastan wouldn’t come, and neither would any of her other cousins. Neither would her mother. She couldn’t expect help. All she had was herself. She’d have to be enough.

  But she had more than herself. She had her years of working closely with her mother, then years more with Amastan. What would he do?

  His voice rang clear in her head, as if he were sitting right next to her. What’s the first step, Thana?

  The first step, always the first step, was finding where the mark was most likely to let his guard down—where he was most comfortable. All of Na Tay Khet was Heru’s home, but where would he least suspect an attack? Where would he feel safest?

  The palace. Even if he didn’t live there, no one would dare attack him so near his Empress. There’d be too many guards and servants, too much protection and caution. If someone went through all the trouble to enter the palace, they’d be after the Empress, not one of her marab.

  What then? How do you get in?

  Thana closed and opened her fist. She had to get into the palace without drawing attention. Who lived and worked inside? She couldn’t know for certain without careful observation, but she could guess. The Empress’s guard. Her servants. Her healers and marab and close family. Slaves.

  Who can you be?

  Thana recalled the market, vivid and dense, and tried to place herself in that crowd. All those pale bodies, shoulders and chests bared to the sun. Then the slaves, skin brown as dates and heads shaved. Thana touched her head, her poof of hair almost a full inch long now. She was loath to cut it, but that’d be the easiest part of her disguise.

  What about a distraction?

  Thana shook her head. No, Heru wouldn’t be easily drawn out. He kept his nose so close to his studies that he wouldn’t notice if she set half the city on fire. The city wasn’t his responsibility. She had to go to him.

  Thana left the garden, Amastan’s voice sharpening her plan. She methodically analyzed and discarded other angles of attack, from pretending to be a baker to hiding among the guards. It all came back to her skin, which was so much darker than most of the city’s populace. She could disguise or alter many things, but her skin wasn’t one of them.

  No, her first idea was her best one. She’d infiltrate the palace as one of the Empress’s slaves. She could learn the palace’s layout and listen in on the gossip to find Heru. She reached the building and circled around, ducking her head and avoiding eye contact when someone passed. She turned into a narrow alley as if she lived there. No one stopped her.

  Finally she lifted her gaze, picking out the handholds and obstacles on her way to the roof. It didn’t look like a difficult climb, but up five stories without the safety of a rope still risked a long fall and a broken neck.

  You can do this, said Amastan.

  Thana took a deep breath. She just wouldn’t fall. She rubbed her palms with dirt, then reached for her first handhold. She took the first ten feet at speed; she just had to get above eye level. No one would notice her after that. People didn’t tend to look up.

  She paused at the bottom of the second floor for a breath. She didn’t look down. Her arms burned and her shoulder throbbed by the time she swung her body up and over the lip of the roof. Sweat dripped from her elbows and stung her eyes and her heart hammered in her chest, but she’d made it. She breathed deep, hunching over the pain, then straightened and turned and faced the city.

  As she’d expected—and hoped—the height lent her perspective. She could see how the roads wound and twisted below, all converging on a ribbon of blue along the city’s edge. The buildings flowed like dunes, rising and falling in rippling waves. And at their center, one building loomed over the rest, its walls angling inward and upward, a skirt of green at its waist: the palace.

  A laugh bubbled within her, sudden and bright, and threatened to wrench itself free. As she looked across the city toward the palace, she realized that everything she’d planned—posi
ng as a slave, sneaking into the palace, learning its layout and rhythm—looked exactly like what Heru had accused her of just hours before. Her schemes would bring her within striking distance of the Empress herself.

  It was almost a shame that the contract was for Heru instead.

  16

  With her head held high, Thana walked through the outer ring of the gardens that circled the palace. No one stopped her. A night of rest—and a morning of preparation—had brightened her mood considerably. The task ahead no longer seemed so daunting. She even dared to hope that she could be on her way out of the city by day’s end. The mark would never see her coming.

  She’d climbed down from her rooftop sanctuary before sunrise and found the market already bustling and chaotic. Without the threat of guards immediately at her back, she was able to take her time and find the things she needed. For some, like the shaving blade and the extra knives, she’d traded the gold rings on her fingers, leaving her with just her poison rings. Others, like the kohl and the clay bowl, she’d simply taken. They were small and cheap and no one would be harmed by their absence.

  Locating and acquiring the right clothes turned out to be more difficult. If she’d wanted to look like any other slave in and around Na Tay Khet, she could’ve been ready within an hour. Unfortunately, the Empress’s slaves were held to a higher standard than a plain skirt and belt.

  That’s why she was here, in the garden. Thick kohl lined her eyes and she wore a beige skirt that she’d snagged off a clothesline. Her bare chest and arms made her feel naked in more ways than one—she had fewer places to hide weapons. But she’d made do. The new knives were strapped to each thigh, her garrote dangled from her charm belt beneath her skirt, and her darts filled an inside pouch.

  She’d used the clay bowl to shave her head, worrying a hole through her lower lip the entire time. She couldn’t risk any nicks. Then she’d washed every inch of herself before applying the dye just above her ear.