of city wall.
Cali looked right again. 'What's that building down there?' she queried, pointing towards the road's vanishing point. 'The one that's pretty much all dome?'
'Zamanutec. Literally, "the House of Manu Power". It's the symbolic building of the Pillar of Faith, kind of like their Tricula. Massur has a workshop in one of its towers, so I've been inside a lot.'
She asked something that had been bugging her for a while. 'The Pillar of Faith, is it like... the Church?'
Amin looked confused. 'The Pillar of Faith is what administers the worship of Manu. But it also has small, secret groups, like the one Massur belongs to. I do not know what they do exactly, I just carry out his orders; but from mine and others experience, we are pretty sure they research magic.'
'Like the Mouth of the Rift?'
'Yes,' he confirmed, shivering. 'And like you.'
This took Cali aback. Of course, I'm supposed to be some magic person who can solve all their problems. She thought about her current appearance and how amusing that idea was. 'What about the other Pillars?'
'Well, there's the Pillar of Valor, which controls the sentinels and the other soldiers. You were being held captive in their compound, although you were technically a Pillar of Faith prisoner. Then there's the Pillar of Scripture, which keeps records and does administration; and the Pillar of Secrets, which... well, I don't really know what they do, but people find them scary. Even Massur fears them.'
'And who controls the Pillars?'
‘There's the Red Council, made up of all the Zars. Zar Mittander is a Red Councilor, and the current head of the Pillar of Faith. There are lots of Zars though, about twenty, maybe more. Sometimes another one takes over the running of a Pillar from the current boss. Some say they kill each other for positions, some say they just take it in turns. It's hard to tell them apart, they all wear the same outfit.'
'Terrifying outfit.'
'Yes. To hide their identities and make assassination of a particular one more difficult. And then above the Red Council...' he hesitated.
'What?'
'There's... Zaloth Zar.' He trembled as he said the words.
'And is he king, or something?'
'Um, I don't know,' he shuddered. 'I'm not supposed to say the name. He supposedly lives in the Ziggurat, a closed-off district of the city, but none of the slaves that have been in have ever seen him. Sentinels neither, from what we've overheard. I plucked up the courage to talk to Massur about it once, and he said Zaloth Zar has ruled the Manu for hundreds of years, since before they reached the coast and enslaved our people.'
'Hundreds of years?'
'Yes.'
Cali frowned as Amin led her towards the Desert Gate.
They approached it cautiously, keeping to the line of buildings to avoid exposing themselves in the road. The whole area was eerily deserted.
'Is it usually this quiet down here?'
'Yes,' Amin affirmed, although there was a quaver of apprehension in the tone of his voice. ‘The Sand District is often quiet.’
'Does anyone actually live in these buildings?'
Before he could speak, as if to answer her question, the door in a nearby house jerked open.
'Who will lead the children to the freedom shore?' a voice from within hissed.
'Mama Umbaru!' Amin answered. He turned to Cali, beckoning her forward. 'This is it!'
They snuck inside and were greeted by two older Dalari, one male one female, in their thirties by the looks of it. The house they were in was just a stone shell, half-reclaimed by the desert beyond the city walls. The floor above had fallen in and sand was piled in the corners. Something of a camp had been made here: a few sacks sat lined up against one wall and a hammock hung between two snapped joists.
'This is Elra, the one I was telling you about. Elra, this is Orranin and Bhazi.'
'Pleased to meet you,' she said, feeling self-conscious about her clothes. 'You wouldn't happen to have any water, would you?'
They eyed her with confused smiles. Orranin removed a small pot from a bag and handed it to her.
Pure bliss. She demolished gulp after gulp, hardly pausing to breathe; she hadn't realized water could be so... satisfying. Her relief was almost sexual in its intensity. She finished the whole pot and immediately felt bloated and mildly sick. A massive burp exited her mouth, but she didn't care.
'Amin tells us you have great power,' Bhazi said.
Cali was still riding the high of finally getting some water in her system. She didn't know what to say. 'I have great knowledge, and knowledge is power,' she quipped. Probably not the type of power they're looking for, though.
'And you will help us with our cause?'
She had to admit, even though she'd only technically been a slave for an hour or so, she was starting to sympathize. 'Well, great causes need great leaders...' she began, about to disavow herself as not being one...
'Exactly!' Amin chorused.
'And I can help that leader,' she continued, picking her words, 'when we get to wherever we're going. Which is where, by the way?' And we better be quick about it. By now they'd almost certainly discovered she'd escaped.
'You'll take our places accompanying the acolytes on their procession up the Red Road. The group should be heading out soon, a few hours before sunset,' explained Orranin. 'When you are far from Sol Mana, escape them - that part is up to you - and head north, far north to the Captured Sea. Follow its shores to the west and you'll come to the Mountains of the Moon, and the Manu slave camps at their base. Up among the peaks the escapees have made a free colony. Find them,' he said, coming forward and placing his hand on her shoulder, 'and lead them back to the sea.'
'Only in your tiny slave dreams will this come to pass,' a deep voice announced, startling the four of them.
Before Cali could fully process what was going on, Amin broke down in wailing tears, wracked with anguish. She turned to the other two, only to see them obliterated by a blast of fire, like from a flamethrower, raining down on them from above.
Fifty-six
An Elect dropped down from the rafters, silent as a cat. The top of his staff - an angry red snout - was still smoldering.
'I should have put your eye out while I had the chance. Perhaps it would have taught you a lesson. But slaves are slaves by nature, and have slave minds.' He dashed towards Amin.
'Get up, scum!' he shouted, his foot laying into his abdomen. Amin wailed in pain.
Cali's momentary confusion faded and time seemed to slow. She saw with precise detail the way her friend writhed, mouth agape, and how his tormentor stood over his diminutive prepubescent body, savoring the hurt. The Elect's shoulders heaved as the spike slipped out of his armored forearm.
Clarity. She knew what to do. Perhaps it was the way his shoulders were relaxed, the way his back was slightly turned to her. How his mask partially obscured his peripheral vision, and how the spike must weigh down his arm slightly, restricting movement. The complacency of the conqueror.
She lunged. The movements came naturally, like they'd been rehearsed to perfection. One hand on his elbow, another on his spike.
Wham. She bent his arm and drove the spike through his eye and into his brain. Blood ejaculated from the wound, covering her rags.
The Elect fell back on to the sandy floor, his arm held up to his eye, lifeless.
Her arms were around Amin, pulling him to his feet. His eyes were wide with shock and pain, staring down at the Elect's corpse as his hands clutched Cali' rags.
'You... you,' he began, struggling to find the words.
'I know,' Cali responded, staring at the blood soaking into the sand. An eye for an eye.
'You really are powerful,' Amin managed. 'I owe you my life.' He put his arms around her and buried his head in her breast.
She felt a wetness. It took her a moment to realize it was his tears.
They stripped the Elect of his armor. Cali donned his under-robe: it was plain grey, with only a small spatter of blood
at the back of the neck. Better than on oversized nappy and a raggy cloth. She put his thick leather belt around her waist, and threw a sand-yellow cloak around her shoulders that she found in one of the sacks.
Amin took a cloak but stayed well clear of the corpse. Cali took one last look at the Elect. Something moved within her. Carefully, she bent down extracted the spike from his head and removed its containing armor from his forearm. A simple catch mechanism. She slipped it on to her own forearm: it wasn't as heavy as she'd thought it'd be. Next, she took his staff and beat it against a corner of wall until it broke, leaving the fire-breathing head and a stalk of wood. She tucked it into the folds of her cloak. Might come in useful.
Amin looked at her with a combination of amazement and fear. 'I didn't know you were a warrior!'
'Everyone is, deep down,' Cali smiled back at him.
Fifty-seven
They waited for the acolyte procession outside in the shade of the building, keeping an eye out for any movement in the afternoon's still heat.
Eventually, an aberration in the heat haze appeared in the road, far down towards the city center and the vast dome of Zamanutec. It grew and grew, until the shapes of perhaps thirty people emerged, covered head to toe in red robes.
They were carrying bodies. Six naked corpses covered in spiraling white tattoos.
'Immortals!' Amin whispered to Cali. 'I've never heard of Immortals being carried out before.'
'Where are they carrying them?'
'Out into the desert, to be buried along the Red Road. All fallen Manu warriors get buried there, as is
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