The Archer at Dawn

by Swati Teerdhala

  “Laksh could be dead now for all I care,” he said, rage nipping at his tongue.

  But the minute the words left his mouth, he knew it wasn’t true. Alok’s eyes widened but he said nothing.

  Kunal quieted and made a decision. “I saw him before he left. More accurately, before he betrayed my trust, tried to blackmail me, attacked me, and fled into the jungle. He’s been secretly working for Dharmdev, a new rebel leader based out of the backwater towns in central Jansa. He tried to convince me to join but I said no. . . . And still I covered for him when I got back here.”

  “I . . . I don’t even have a joke for that,” Alok said.

  Kunal snorted.

  “You could’ve told me sooner.” Alok’s mouth was a grim, straight line.

  “I didn’t know if I could. He didn’t just desert, Alok. He’s been a double agent for moons. I didn’t know if anyone else was involved. I still don’t.”

  Alok walked over and punched him in the arm. “Yes, you do. Do you really think I could lie for weeks, let alone moons? Remember that one time I tried to challenge Laksh to cards?”

  A smile came to Kunal’s face. “That was difficult to watch.”

  “You can trust me, Kunal,” he said quietly. “You’re my true friend. You’ve been by my side from the beginning. If you knew the things I’ve done . . .”

  “That we’ve all done,” Kunal said.

  Alok straightened and pulled a face. “I’m loyal to the Fort, soldier.” There was the faintest hint of wavering in his voice.

  Alok thought he was upset with Laksh for leaving the Fort. That Kunal expected that loyalty from him too. It was the small stone that cracked his armor.

  Kunal didn’t want to lie anymore, not to Alok. He wanted to be honest about Laksh, about Esha. He wanted someone he could trust.

  “But if you think I’m going to buy that’s the only thing that happened on this adventure of yours, then you’re taking me for a drink-addled horse trader. You mentioned a girl, and now you’re telling me Laksh was a double agent? There’s more to the story, Kunal.” Alok set his chin, staring Kunal down. “And I’ll find out, even if I have to knock you around.”

  Kunal sighed, rubbing the side of his jaw.

  He no longer worried about trusting Alok but rather about keeping him from this messy web he had found himself in.

  “Let’s go for a walk.”

  Kunal walked into the armory, shooting a quick glance behind to make sure no one had followed him in. Confirming the fact, he moved inside.

  Kunal kept an ear out for any changes in the sounds outside, having put a few well-placed, sharp rocks around the pathway and entrance to the armory. The armory was tucked into the farthest corner of the Fort and surrounded by thick walls of stone. It was the only time of day no soldiers would be in the area, most of them using their free time to go to the ocean or play dice in the courtyards above.

  But he stayed alert. There was only one soldier he did expect.

  “Need some help?” Alok said in greeting, turning the corner and deftly hopping around the rocks. “Want me to be lookout?”

  “No, we should be good. Close the door quietly and lower your voice.”

  He was surprised at how well Alok had taken the news. Clearly, discovering his best friend was a deserter and had feelings for the Viper, the Fort’s sworn enemy, wasn’t as bad as Kunal had thought.

  Alok had been shocked when Kunal first told him about what had happened during his mission. He was devastated about Laksh. Then annoyed he had missed out. And giddy when Kunal had mentioned Esha. And now he kept hinting at being a part of whatever Kunal was going to do next in Gwali.

  Kunal moved toward the back part of the room, where the knives and special weapons were kept. Alok followed behind him, looking over his shoulder.

  “You know, shortly after you left, a contingent from the palace arrived. They were hidden in a room for days.”

  “Probably just to outline the details of the Mela, Alok.”

  “All right, but wasn’t that good information?” Alok asked eagerly. “You know, I still can’t believe that you almost left. I’ve been thinking about it since you told me—if I could do it too.”

  Kunal moved away from the shelf of sheathed knives to shush Alok. “Yes, being scared for my life is really a lot of fun.”

  “I’ve got to meet this Esha, need to find out her trick,” he said. “The old Kunal would break out into welts if he were talking about desertion. Certainly wouldn’t have made a joke.”

  “It wasn’t a trick, Alok,” Kunal said, sighing and running his fingers over a long, thin knife. “And it wasn’t just her. You didn’t see the people, the land out there beyond these walls. People are suffering, and we’re doing nothing about it.”

  Alok’s voice grew quieter. “I did, actually. I saw it on the last campaign. Why do you think I picked fights after we came back? I saw the drought. I saw people starving, and the army looked the other way. We raised taxes, took away the local courts, and hoarded our own gold. It turned my stomach.”

  “Then why didn’t you leave? Try to do something?”

  Alok laughed. “Leave and go where? My family would be in danger if I left, Kunal. Deserters’ families are targeted. And try to do something? What could I do? I was no one, not even a captain.”

  Kunal heard what Alok didn’t say—that he wasn’t the previous general’s nephew.

  “And, Kunal . . . you don’t know what I’ve had to do in this army.”

  Something bleak crossed his face, as transient as a shooting star.

  Kunal shook his head. “Who cares?” he said, thinking back to his conversation with Esha by the ocean. “It’s not about the past, but the future. Do you respect and love this land? Its people? Do you want to build a better future?”

  Alok’s brow furrowed, his hands clenched. “Yes.”

  “Then fight for it,” Kunal said.

  “You’re right.”

  Kunal looked at his friend, who came around to pick up a long ax. He hefted it and placed it into the pack Kunal had sitting on the table.

  “But you still haven’t really said why you’re back or what you’re planning to do. It’s happening in Gwali and has to do with the Mela. I’m not stupid, Kunal. So I’m telling you now, I’m in, whatever it is.”

  Kunal sighed. Alok’s jaw was set, and he knew him well enough to not try to argue.

  “You might regret this.”

  “Oh, I surely will. But isn’t that what friendship is?” Alok said, grinning wildly. He took a look at the weapons Kunal had accumulated—three knives, a handful of throwing stars, a quiver of arrows—and clapped him on the back. “Looks like we’re going to war.”

  The moon hung low in the sky, like a babe in a sling, as Esha crept out of her room and into the silence of the night.

  She slipped past the night guards and down the side staircase. Soon enough, she was winding her way through the gardens, the best way in and out of the palace without notice. No official patrol within the mazelike paths, and the gardens connected to two of the other wings.

  Esha climbed up the rope she had tied the day before on the outer gates during her morning walk with Lady Suchitra of House Rusala. Within minutes she was up and over. She crept along the wall, keeping to the shadows until she got to the shade of a large banyan tree. She tugged out the extra knife she had hid there, strapping it to her back, as well as a few short daggers, which she added to her forearm guards.

  She had one goal tonight—find that soldier from the jungle. Mohit. She wouldn’t let another soldier go, not after Laksh.

  Esha knew what Kunal would say if he knew—she still remembered the look he gave her when she had slit the remaining soldiers’ throats. But her lemon boy was too noble-hearted and didn’t understand the realities of the world they lived in. If one soldier lived who might recognize him, that was one soldier too many for their mission to succeed.

  Esha sneaked down the narrow lanes of the merchant quarte
r, readying her whip.

  The second-story room she climbed into was small and unoccupied, a perfect vantage point to listen to the conversations downstairs.

  Her contact had told her that this inn had been frequented by the soldiers of Mohit’s squad and that Mohit was a fan of the establishment’s specialty, cardamom rice pudding.

  She tried not to think much about him, whether he liked the sweet because of his childhood or if he had a spouse who made it for him. It didn’t matter if Mohit did. He had to be eliminated to protect her team.

  Esha pressed an ear to the door and let her mind settle, sifting through conversations for key words—Mohit, caravan, traitor.

  Finally, something perked her ears.

  “I don’t see your friend here today,” the owner said, his voice reedy.

  “Which one? Sunil? Jaiprakash?” a deep voice replied. There was a clink of glasses.

  “No, emenda. The other one, the one who never seemed quite happy.”

  “Oh, yes. Mohit.” There was fondness in the soldier’s voice. Esha leaned closer, hand sliding to her whip. “He’d only come here for your specialty dish, that’s true. He wasn’t one for drinking or gambling.” The soldier laughed hollowly. “He won’t be coming back. None of that squad will be coming back.”

  A beat of silence. “I’m sorry to hear that, emenda. Is there anything I can do to entice them back? I can have my chef make double the rice pudding, with dates and nuts. Oh, and exotic fruits from the west.”

  “No, no. The king has taken them.” There was a clear bitterness in the soldier’s voice. Taken them? Esha racked her brain for where they could’ve gone and why Vardaan would’ve ordered them there.

  “Ah, I see.” The owner didn’t sound surprised. “May their souls escape this world. Was there a reason?”

  “It’s the king’s will, isn’t it? We all live and die at the king’s will.” The soldier coughed. “As it should be. His Highness is our savior. Fetch me some wine, will you? These things are done—no point talking of them.”

  Esha sat back on her heels. The squad that brought Reha in hadn’t been ordered anywhere else. If what the soldier was indicating was correct, Vardaan had killed Mohit to ensure his silence.

  The surprise that hit her was unexpected. Vardaan was known to take good care of his soldiers, even if he didn’t care for the rest of his people. She could think of only one reason strong enough to kill a loyal soldier—a secret that needed to be protected at all costs. Reha.

  Shuffling footsteps came from below. The sound of wine pouring and a clink of glasses followed, but the conversation was muffled. Esha ventured out of the room, wrapping her turban tight around her head. She winced as the cursed breast band she wore poked into her ribs and doubled back as she reached the bottom of the stairs, hiding behind another man as if she had been there the whole time.

  She lingered near the bar, eyeing the crowd as she tracked down the soldier from before. He was near one of the tables now, talking to a few other soldiers who were drinking and playing dice.

  “It’s so unfair that the soldiers aren’t getting as many entries as before due to those Dharkans. Our best should be out there in the stadium, trouncing those weaklings.”

  “Well, did you hear about the Falcon Squad? Our king is bringing them back to deliver the prize at the Victor’s Ball.”

  “The Falcon Squad?” The admiration was unmistakable. “Weren’t they the ones who helped the general take control on the Night of Tears?”

  Everything slowed down around Esha. Esha turned toward them, her hands clenched into fists.

  A third voice answered, “Yes, that’s them.” This voice was less enthused, flat even. “They’ll be the king’s guests of honor for the Mela. I think they just arrived—they’ll be shooting the first bow at the archery tournament. I think our captain mentioned a medal ceremony as well, before the final competition. Picking this squad is an interesting choice, given that the Dharkans will be in town for the peace summit. Doesn’t quite signal peace to have your commando force that led the coup as your guests of honor.”

  “Ignore him,” said another. “I can’t wait. Do you think we’ll be able to meet them—”

  Esha had heard enough, but her legs were unable to move. She wanted to grab one of the soldiers, demand to know more about the squad that killed her parents on the Night of Tears.

  She’d never been able to forget that night—the soldier with his curved sword and the general behind him. The soldier’s owl eyes underneath his helmet. The way the general gave the order with a smile.

  The soldier had hesitated, and for a moment she had thought he wouldn’t follow the order, but then he had moved forward like a wraith, knocking her father down and grabbing her mother’s hair. The general stood behind, watching it all.

  He was gone now, though not by her hand.

  But the wraith?

  He was alive, celebrated, and in this city. He’d be in the Mela.

  A hand waved in front of her face. “Little fellow?” a soldier said, waving his hand once again. “You’re blocking the way to the wine.”

  “Sorry,” she said, moving away from the bar and into the corner. She placed a cold hand to her chest, trying to calm her frantic heartbeats.

  The gods had finally spoken, after years of unanswered pleas. After arriving to find the general already dead at the Blood Fort.

  Esha had a chance to get justice, to fulfill her vow to her parents’ ghosts.

  And Moon Lord help anyone who stood in her way.

  The commission ceremony took less time than Kunal thought, and by the end, he had a newly made Senap armband, one that denoted his station and rank.

  One benefit of being the only survivor of the infamous Viper mission was that he now had a modicum of influence. Enough to get Alok assigned to be his charioteer for the drive over to Gwali. Only half the Fort was allowed to leave to participate in the Mela games, as they still needed soldiers defending the Fort.

  Kunal tossed the last pack into the back of the chariot. His friend’s wavy head of hair could be seen peeking out of the space between the chariot and the wooden wheels.

  Kunal grinned and then yelled loudly, “You all right down there?”

  Alok hit his head on the inside of the chariot bottom and pulled back to glare at Kunal.

  “I liked boring Kunal better,” he muttered.

  Kunal felt his grin growing wider at that. “What was that?”

  “Nothing,” he said, shaking his head. “We’re good to go. Wheels are on tight and no pin loose. You’re going to tell me why you were worried about something so specific, aren’t you?”

  “At some point.”

  He’d given Alok a brief sketch of his plans in Gwali—take on his role as a Senap, be the eyes and ears for a rescue mission. He had promised to tell him more, but if there was one thing the past two moons had taught him it was that he could never be too careful.

  Alok clambered into the front of the chariot and grasped the horse’s reins, grumbling to himself about “friends who think they’re so high and mighty after meeting a girl.”

  Kunal stepped into the chariot behind him. He was finally going to the Sun Mela, and as a Senap no less. He could remember how much he longed for such a day when he was younger.

  But Kunal dreamed of new things now.

  Chapter 9

  The streets of Gwali were anything but quiet. Esha wound her way through the labyrinth that was the thieves’ den, looking for one sign in particular.

  A white horse with a crown of flames was emblazoned on a rusty building sign, swaying slightly in the evening breeze. Esha breathed a sigh of relief. She crept up to the side of the building and knocked on the entrance, making sure her mask was in place. A rectangular slab of wood slid open, only a pair of bloodshot eyes visible.

  “Knowledge is?”

  “Costly,” Esha said.

  The door opened to reveal a short middle-aged woman.

  Esha followed her into
a scented hallway dimly lit. The woman said nothing as they moved past closed rooms, some with curious noises coming out of them. That smell—Esha struggled to place it, except that it was floral.

  The woman held her hand out to stop Esha before ducking inside a room. A minute passed, then two, and Esha started to fidget. The woman appeared again, just her head from behind the door.

  “They’re ready for you,” she said.

  Esha raised an eyebrow at all the secrecy. Dharmdev had good reason to keep his identity hidden, but this was ridiculous.

  The room itself was a stark contrast to the rest of the building. Plush throws covered every inch, and the walls were decorated with gold-threaded tapestries.

  A tall woman rose from the floor, her sari opulent in a way that even court nobles wouldn’t wear—it was too ostentatious. A long scar carved the outline of her right jaw outside the edge of her panther mask, and as she came closer, Esha saw her arms were corded with muscle. A fighter.

  “I bow to the sun in you, sister,” the woman said, echoing an old Jansan greeting. She indicated that they move to the floor, gliding over and taking one of the pillows for herself. A handful of people, who Esha figured were members of the Scales, hung around the fringes of the room, hands on their weapons. They each wore a mask that covered the top half of their face, black and gold, in the shape of different animals.

  The woman noticed Esha’s gaze and turned to her people, giving them a signal to leave. Once they were gone, Esha took a pillow opposite the woman and adjusted her own cobra mask, green and gold. It was the terms of their agreement, to keep their faces hidden. Harun was already not keen on the idea of them meeting. He had set that term to protect her, or so he said. She hadn’t told him that it was possible the Scales already knew who she was.

  “Greetings . . .” Esha peered at the woman, who chuckled.

  “I’m Zhyani, second-in-command of Dharmdev’s Scales. Dharmdev sends regrets about missing tonight. I’ll have to be enough.”

  “I’m sure you will be. I’m Palak.” She hadn’t actually expected Dharmdev to show up. In fact, she had hoped for someone else, a face she could befriend and negotiate with. The tales of Dharmdev didn’t indicate that he was a particularly open man.