Hunted by the Sky

by Tanaz Bhathena

  What are you doing? she demands.

  “He’s in trouble!” I shout at her. “We can’t lose him!”

  If we lose Cavas in the storm, the Sky Warriors will find him. And when they do … I shake off the awful thought, keeping my daggers out and my eyes narrowed for any signs of a horse. Then, through a part in the clouds of dust, I see him—struggling against the grip of a dustwolf that’s trying to drag him along the sand. There’s no sign of Gharib. I hesitate. Attacking the dustwolf could easily hurt Cavas as well. But doing nothing would be worse.

  Attack, I think, and take careful aim. The dustwolf’s howl of pain is my only answer.

  “Cavas!” I cry out. “Cavas, are you hurt? Can you climb on?”

  A long scratch mars Cavas’s face. His calf is bleeding profusely. By a miracle, or maybe the grit that has kept him going for so long, he grabs my hand and manages to climb onto Agni’s back. More howls behind us. We don’t have a choice. We’ll have to make a run for it.

  “Hold on to me,” I shout, hoping he can hear. “And don’t let go!”

  It is a dangerous move. I have never ridden double before on a gallop, and I doubt that Cavas has, either. If Cavas falls off Agni, so will I. But, after a brief hesitation, I feel Cavas’s arms wrap around my waist, holding tight, and we dive into the rising dust.

  * * *

  In the storm, I imagine I am alone, sleeping on a cot in the courtyard of our old house in Dukal. My mother sits on the ground next to me, holding my hand, twisting my fingers, breaking them one by one.

  The cot rocks gently from side to side, and now I am floating on a raft on the lotus pond in Javeribad. The water looks like mermaid hair and has the texture of husk when I touch it. Flies buzz overhead, and the flowers turn into parts of bodies I once knew.

  A spasm of pain goes through me, and the dream shifts again. I am on a horse now, tossed upon the dunes like a boat on the high seas. Rain falls from the sky, cuts into my skin like glass. Overhead, shadows loom: the roofs of havelis, the spires of temples, a giant bird with hollow eyes. Gold bars surround me, and for a moment, I think I’m back in the cage facing the mammoth, a flimsy dagger in hand.

  A young girl in pigtails and a ragged tunic grips my wrist. Her eyes are gray, and so is her face. “Show them your mark!” Her voice is oddly familiar. “Show it or they won’t believe us!”

  I pull up the sleeve of my blouse and raise my right arm high in the air. Light pours out of me, banishing the shadows. The cage disappears. Sand shifts, revealing a path encrusted with rock so old it looks skeletal, bleached remains rising from the dust. I hold on to my horse’s slippery mane, fall off when I realize the rain isn’t rain, but sand, and that the sweat coating the horse’s neck is blood.

  A CITY OF SHADOWS

  39

  CAVAS

  Wake up. The woman in my dream is chasing away monsters, beasts with the sort of fangs that can cut through stone. Wake up, son.

  I see my mother’s face: hollow-cheeked and gray-eyed in specter form, her hair whipping across it in long, silvery strands. As a boy, I’d seen her a few times in my dreams, veiled by shadow and moonlight. I did not expect to see her again. To appear when Gul and I plunged into the dust storm and draw me out of my dust-addled nightmares.

  “Ma?” I whisper now, reaching out to take her hand.

  “He’s waking up, thank the goddess,” a distant voice. “It’s all right, boy. You’re safe now.”

  Like smoke, my mother’s hand fades, and my eyes flutter open to light. The soft yellow of morning pours in through a window overhead, casting shadows and starry patterns across the white sheet covering my legs. The air around me smells of flour and herbs, a shaft of pain going through my calf when I try to move.

  “Easy, there.” It’s the voice again. “That was no ordinary animal bite.”

  I sag into the mattress underneath—a real mattress cushioning my body instead of the bare net of my cot, and a real pillow under my head instead of an old turban. The feel—the very luxury of it—seems wrong. Like I’m still in some kind of vague dream. Yet the voice speaking to me doesn’t sound dreamlike.

  I force my eyes open again. The woman looking at me must be in her midthirties, with deep-brown eyes that curve ever so slightly at the corners. A mole the shape of a falling star marks her left cheek. There are other stars: silver-and-black tattoos that curve over her eyebrows like constellations, and a small gold one etched carefully above the very center of her chin.

  “Is he up yet, Esther?” another voice asks. One that I might have heard before.

  “He is,” the tattooed woman says. “His fever broke sometime this morning—no, boy, not now!” She holds me down when I try to get up, and a moment later, searing pain shoots through my calf. “I told you your leg isn’t up to it yet!”

  Memories unravel: Papa falling, his body lit red. The tunnel. Indu. The storm. I remember falling off my horse and then—

  “Gul.” My throat feels raw, like I haven’t spoken in ages. “Where’s Gul?”

  “She’s still asleep. The dust seems to have hit her worse than you two,” the woman named Esther says.

  You two. “Kali. Is she all right?”

  “No worse than usual,” Kali says. I slowly turn around, seeing Gul’s friend for the first time without ash marring her features. Bald head, pretty face, bright-gray eyes. I raise a hand to shield my eyes from the shaft of light pouring in through an overhead window and see that my skin is covered with brown scratches.

  “That’s from the dustwolf that attacked you,” Kali explains when she sees me looking. “We’re lucky that we had Esther. She got the poison out before it could do much damage. I swear she was better than a vaid!”

  “Hardly!” Esther laughs. “Don’t be excessive in your praise, Kali. You know that only magi gifted in life magic are trained to heal and become vaids. Good vaids can work their magic and fully heal wounds like Cavas’s in perhaps an hour. I’m but a half magus with some knowledge of healing.”

  I glance up sharply. Another half magus? A seer? Esther smiles and nods at me, as if sensing my questions.

  “I was lucky that the old vaid at this labor camp needed help and agreed to show me how to mix herbs and make salves and potions,” Esther says. “I could have worked much faster if not for the dust that you all inhaled. Kali had been knocked out for a whole week.”

  A week? “How is that even possible?” I croak out. “How long have we been here? Where are we?”

  “So many questions this one asks!” Esther turns to retrieve a small vial from a table next to us and mixes a drop of it into a steaming copper mug.

  “Wait until the other one wakes up,” Kali says. “She’ll ask about ten times as many.”

  “Don’t worry; it isn’t a criticism,” Esther says before I can open my mouth to retort. Her brown eyes look at me kindly, and despite my confusion, I find myself relaxing under her touch. “To answer your first question, it’s the Dream Dust that puts you to sleep, though you may have guessed that already. Some people can go into a permanent sleep state; it drives many mad. Second, you’ve been sleeping for around ten days. Third, you are in Tavan, which was a city for weary desert travelers once and later a labor camp where marked girls were held captive until the Battle of the Desert.”

  Tavan, a labor camp? “But all those stories—”

  “Hush! You can ask your questions later,” Esther scolds. She hands me the copper mug, which is smoking now.

  “What’s in there?” I ask suspiciously.

  “Chai, mostly. And diluted blood bat venom. Don’t look so alarmed—I’ve been feeding you a drop of it every day. It helps leech out the poison from your leg.”

  I take a sip, grimace at the taste. Is this what Papa felt like when I gave him his medicine? I glance up and find Kali looking blankly out the window. A sound not unlike hooves clatters outside, reminding me of—

  “Your horse,” I say, making Kali turn around. “I’m sorry.”

 
“It’s all right,” she says gently, even though pain flashes through her eyes. “We saved Agni and Ajib at least.”

  “Thank the goddess that you had Indu and Latif with you,” Esther says. “They guided the horses, protected you from the worst of the storm.”

  “Latif?” The name tastes sour on my tongue. “He was there with us?”

  “He didn’t show himself because he knew you were angry at him,” Esther says. “But he wasn’t willing to leave you behind. Not after what happened at the palace.”

  The words claw at my insides, dig deep. It would be easy to give in, to sink along with the strange weight crushing my chest. I breathe deeply, search for a distraction, a lifeline. “So, Gul—”

  “Will be all right. I was in to see her earlier, before I came to see you.”

  I say nothing. I don’t miss the glance Kali exchanges with Esther or the fact that neither of them looked at me while talking about Gul.

  “How about having a look outside your window?” Kali asks me brightly. “He can do that, can’t he, Esther?”

  Esther frowns. “As long as he doesn’t overexert himself.”

  With their help, I climb off the bed and hobble to the window, its curtains drawn open to let in the morning light. The room we’re in looks over a courtyard overgrown with desert grass, thhor plants, and honeyweed bushes, interspersed with odd little wooden posts. A narrow path connects the building we’re in to another one: a house built in the style of an old haveli, dark figures dancing across the roof.

  I squint.

  No. Not dancing.

  Fighting.

  Braids flying in the air, their long wooden staffs making a noise that, over here, sounds like a gentle clack.

  “Lathi practice,” Esther comments softly. “We’ve been training for the past twenty years. Waiting. We couldn’t believe it when Indu brought her here.”

  Her. I know, without asking, that she’s talking about Gul.

  The faded letters on the building across from us spell out SOLITARY CONFINEMENT. DANGEROUS. I narrow my eyes at the posts in the courtyard, at the broken chains hanging off them, blackened with rust and time.

  “We call this courtyard Freed Land,” Esther says. “The posts are a reminder of our former captivity. Twenty-two years ago, at least two girls, if not more, were continuously chained here to the stocks for what the guards deemed misbehavior. The building we’re in formed the barracks. It took me a long time to see how afraid the guards were of our dying—of turning into living specters—because of the way they tortured us. Few did, though. By the time most of the girls had their magic drained, they wanted to die anyway. Not everyone was as angry or as strong-willed.” She points into the distance. “Look. Beyond the building. Do you see them?”

  For a few seconds, I don’t. Then, slowly, they begin materializing before my eyes: golden bars as tall as mountains. One bar after another, as far as the eye can see. Small gray figures circle the air around the bars. Without being told, I know they are living specters.

  “It’s like a cage,” I murmur.

  “Yes. As long as we can see the bars, it means Tavan remains invisible. It’s how we’ve lasted for so long over here. Not that the Sky Warriors haven’t come looking. Raja Lohar’s general used to come once every month to look for ways to infiltrate the city.” Esther’s lips flatten. “It has been difficult keeping our security measures in place. The specters don’t like playing guard for long amounts of time. They left a part of the barrier unguarded at one point. But we were lucky. The general didn’t find us. Instead, we saw him from behind our barrier, stabbed in the back by one of his own Sky Warriors and left for the dustwolves.”

  “Raja Lohar is dead now,” I say slowly. “Doesn’t it mean you’re free to leave?”

  “Not if we’re hiding the two most wanted people in Ambar,” Esther says. Kali clears her throat. “Three, rather,” Esther corrects.

  “Why are you hiding us when you could easily hand us in?” I ask. “You would probably be rewarded for it.”

  “Yes, it would be easy to turn you in,” Esther says. “And we would have if we hadn’t been praying for this—for the Star Warrior—for two decades. We’re hoping we can negotiate a deal with the new king. Bargain for your safety.”

  “Rajkumar Amar was crowned Ambarnaresh three days after Lohar died,” Kali tells me. “We’re hoping he might be sympathetic once he learns the truth about what happened at the palace.”

  “You’re facing an uphill battle there,” I say, thinking of the fury on Prince Amar’s face, the hatred in his eyes. Even if we were pardoned for regicide, he could still punish us for his brothers’ deaths. Imprison us for life if he so chooses.

  “But—” Kali stops abruptly at the sound of pattering feet. Another girl bursts into the room, her eyes bright with excitement. She must be in her twenties or so, her face tattooed exactly like Esther’s. She pauses to stare at me for a moment, as if marveling at my wakefulness. She grins. “Brilliant. He’s awake.”

  “Yes, Sami.” Esther’s voice is calm, holds only a trace of impatience. “Did you come specifically to see that?”

  Sami shakes her head. “Oh no, Didi! I wanted to let you know that the Star Warrior is awake, too!”

  “Where are you going?” Esther’s stern voice makes me realize I’ve been making a move to follow them out of the room.

  “I’m only going—”

  “Nowhere,” Kali cuts me off, and with a hand gently, but firmly, steers me back inside. “Come on, Cavas. You’ll get to see Gul soon. We need to make sure you’re fed a proper meal before you can move around again.”

  “I’m not hungry.” My stomach growls a split second later, traitorous thing.

  “Sami will get you some food.” Kali smiles. “We won’t keep you caged in here. I promise.”

  Perhaps they wouldn’t. But this city is a prison itself. Defeated, I sag back onto the bed. Gul’s all right, I tell myself. She’s alive. The crushing weight on my ribs lessens somewhat. Cool air wafts in through the window, and I suddenly remember what Indu said a few days ago about specters living here, in the city of shadows.

  “Papa?” I whisper into the air around me. “Are you there?”

  In the distance, there are more clacking sounds. But no answering whisper. No Papa.

  “Papa?” I say again, loudly this time.

  “He won’t be here.”

  I stiffen at the sound of the voice. “Show yourself.”

  He does, at once, appearing right next to the window where I stood only moments earlier, his gray body almost translucent in the sunlight.

  “Don’t ever do that again.” My words feel like an echo, a reminder of something I’d heard once before—from Gul, I realize. She’d said the same thing to me when I’d held on to her hand, had somehow stopped her from killing Prince Amar with her magic.

  “I’m sorry, boy,” Latif says, a strange sheen to his gray eyes. “I know I failed your father. Failed to keep my promise to you. But he isn’t here with us now. He never will be.”

  “How can you know?” I demand. “He’ll come if I call for him! Papa! Papa!”

  My voice echoes in the small room, but there is no answer. Latif’s expression is oddly sympathetic.

  “Why, then,” I ask, “are you still here?”

  Why you and not him?

  “Your father was ready to die,” Latif says. “I wasn’t. If your father wanted to stay, you would have seen him emerge from his body in specter form right after he died.”

  The words splinter something inside me. But I do not cry. Not a tear emerges as Latif continues staring at me in silence. What use are tears? When have they ever been of use?

  “You’ll have to cry sometime, boy. It’s never any good keeping grief bottled up.”

  I don’t scold him for reading my thoughts. All I know is that I won’t be crying.

  Not today. Never again.

  “Not even when you see your mother?” Latif’s voice is quiet.

 
; “Don’t you dare play games with me.”

  “I’m not playing games. Your mother is here. She is a specter as well.”

  “I know she’s a specter. But she doesn’t want to see me, remember?” I point out in a hard voice. “She never came when I called for her. You confirmed it.”

  “Why she did not come and see you is her story to tell,” Latif says. “But she does want to see you, boy. She hasn’t forgotten her only son.”

  “Oh really? Where is she, then?”

  But Latif refuses to tell me where my mother is in this moment. “Apart from you, Esther is the only other seer in Tavan. I don’t want her getting angry with me for disturbing your rest,” he tells me. “Your mother will come to you tonight. Right now, she’s on guard duty at the city’s boundary with the other specters.”

  “Guard duty?”

  “How else do you think Tavan has remained safe all these years? The specters circle the golden bars and make sure the city remains invisible.”

  Before I can respond, Latif disappears again, and I’m left to stare into the space he leaves behind.

  The hours go by slow when you have nothing to do. Even slower when you’re desperately waiting for someone who also happens to be your mother. But my injuries make movement difficult, and Esther’s medicine is strong. I doze intermittently, finally falling into a deep sleep. When I wake again, Sunheri is a full moon outside my window. I force myself to rise up into a sitting position.

  I feel my mother’s presence before I see her standing by the window: a shadow among the many others cleaving to the wall. Like Latif, my mother’s skin and hair are gray, and so is her worn sari. In the yellow moonlight, I can almost pretend that her eyes are green the way Papa said they were when she was alive. For the first time, I see bits and pieces of myself in another person—in the slant of her jaw, the protruding tip of her nose, in the smile that now curves her lips. My stupid eyes want to brim over. I blink them dry.

  “My precious boy.” Unlike Latif, who strides with the grounded gait of a man still alive, my mother doesn’t walk as much as she floats, her fingers brushing me as lightly as butterfly wings. “At last. At long last I can show myself to you.”