The City of Zirdai

by Maria V. Snyder

  She huffed. “And after all I’ve done for you.”

  “You have my gratitude. And you’ve earned a gold statue of Tamburah. We’ve lots.”

  “Ugh, I’ll pass on the statue.”

  “He’s not naked in all of them.”

  “Still no.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think they’re going to be popular.”

  Shyla wanted to get everyone sworn in right away, but Mojag still slept and she didn’t have the heart to wake him. Plus, if she was being honest, the effort to open Mojag’s magic had used up quite a bit of her energy. Instead, she decided to wait until after she returned from the city. She planned to go into Zirdai at angle one-eighty to sell one of Tamburah’s crowns to the professor. It had been about nine sun jumps since their last meeting and the woman could have decided to leave early. Also they needed the coins to buy the platinum from Zimraan. And, since she was being honest, she might catch a glimpse of Rendor. It was pathetic, but she missed him.

  Ximen elected to accompany her when Jayden chose to remain at headquarters with Mojag. Elek and Jaft also tagged along. They were scheduled for a water run. In order to keep the jugs filled, teams of two had been making trips to the bowels of Zirdai with the velbloud bladders every five or six sun jumps.

  Right after the group climbed to the surface, Jayden called up to Shyla. “Mojag’s awake.” His face creased as if he was in pain.

  She waited.

  “He moved the sand with magic.”

  Relief and joy swirled in her heart. She hoped Mojag recovered from the ordeal, but it seemed her plan to expand their number of wielders worked.

  “You know he’ll be impossible to live with now,” Jayden said.

  “And how is that different than before?”

  Jayden just shook his head. Shyla joined the others. She walked beside Ximen, striding easily through the sand as if she were a velbloud ready to lift into the sky. Her thoughts focused on how to find others who had the potential to wield magic.

  When they reached the city, Elek and Ximen headed for a different entrance than Shyla and Jaft. They planned to meet up once inside. There were a few deacons watching the people returning from the desert. Some of them wore protective torques.

  Ximen created a small whirlwind of sand. It buzzed through the one-story buildings. Sand whirls were a common enough occurrence to not be viewed as suspicious, but interesting enough to provide a distraction for Shyla and Jaft to get inside.

  “Handy,” Jaft said once they were through. “Will Rae be able to do that?”

  “Depends.”

  “Wow, that’s vaguely specific.”

  “It’s up to Rae if she wishes to access her magic and, if she does, it will depend on how strong she is and if she even has the ability to move sand.”

  “Oh.”

  Thankfully, Jaft didn’t ask any more questions. They rendezvoused with Elek and Ximen. After agreeing to meet Elek and Jaft back at the same location on level ten at angle three-fifty-five, they split up. Ximen headed to the markets to determine the time—or as close to it as possible—that Zimraan’s caravan was scheduled to arrive while Elek and Jaft took Rendor’s route to his water source. Shyla kept to the edges of the city as she descended to Professor Emeline’s quarters on level forty-two. When her and Ximen’s tasks were finished, they would meet back at Orla’s.

  Shyla waited in the same dark nook for the professor to return from third meal. The temptation to seek Rendor with her magic pulsed in her veins. She had found if she kept busy, the memories of his kiss and the longing for his touch wouldn’t ambush her as often. To keep from thinking about him, she focused on the people in the tunnels nearby. Students mostly, but a few professors and a couple of guards patrolled. Not the guards who had helped her when Utina had accused her of murdering Banqui and stealing The Eyes from him. She wondered if those two would be receptive to changing their allegiance. Probably not, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask.

  Emeline arrived at angle two-forty-five and Shyla stepped from the shadow.

  The woman startled but recovered with a nervous laugh. “You certainly like to make an entrance. Do you have something for me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Come on in.” Emeline unlocked the door and swept out a bony arm, indicating Shyla should precede her.

  She entered the dark room and waited near the door while the professor uncovered the trol lanterns, then slid the glass panel closed.

  “Did you recover Gorgain’s crown and torque?” Emeline’s eyes glowed almost as bright as the lanterns.

  “No, but I found something better.”

  The woman deflated. “There’s not much that’s better.”

  “Oh, I think you won’t be disappointed.” Shyla removed one of Tamburah’s crowns from her pack. This one resembled a ring of vines with berries interspersed throughout. The leaves and stems were made of gold, and rubies provided the vivid red color of the berries.

  Emeline sucked in a breath. “Whose is that?”

  “King Tamburah’s.”

  “But his tomb and vault were looted thousands of circuits ago.”

  Shyla told her about Tamburah’s increasing paranoia and the existence of a second vault.

  “May I?” She held out her hand.

  “Of course.”

  The professor brought it to her desk and examined it under the light. Then she put a glass monocle to her eye and peered at the rubies. Fascinated, Shyla watched as the woman brought out a set of delicate tools and tested the gold by trying to scrape off the color. Emeline performed a few more assessments before weighing the crown.

  “It’s certainly valuable. But I’m not convinced it was Tamburah’s. Do you have proof?”

  “Isn’t there an analysis that can determine an artifact’s age?”

  “Yes, but it takes a long time and I don’t have the equipment here.”

  “Why does it matter? The gold and rubies alone are worth plenty of coins.”

  “True, but if it really is a historical artifact that can be studied and displayed, then it’s worth more.”

  “How much more?”

  “Double.”

  Ah. Was it worth the risk? But, more importantly, did she want the crown to be disassembled and melted down? “I’ve a statue of Tamburah that was found along with the crown.”

  Emeline perked up. “That would be perfect! Do you wish to sell that one as well?”

  “Do you have enough coins to pay for both?”

  “Please don’t insult me, girl.”

  Shyla waited.

  The professor unlocked a small trunk and pulled out a big pouch. It jangled and clanged when she handled it. She untied it and then spilled dozens and dozens of osees onto the desk. “As you can see, I’ve plenty.” Picking up the now empty pouch, she met Shyla’s gaze. “How about I pay you now for the crown at the current black-market value and, when you return with the statue, I’ll double that amount and we’ll negotiate a price for the statue?”

  It sounded reasonable. Aphra had warned her that she wouldn’t get full market value because the sale wasn’t legitimate. “What are you offering?”

  “One hundred osees.”

  Aphra had also taught her to never take the first offer. It would be insultingly low and a test to see if Emeline could take advantage of Shyla.

  “Seven hundred osees,” she countered.

  “Ha! That’s robbery. Two hundred osees.”

  They went back and forth until they agreed on four hundred osees. Shyla kept her expression neutral, but inside she celebrated. That amount would go a long way and when she returned, she’d double it along with the value of the statue.

  After Emeline paid her, Shyla headed to Orla’s commune.

  Ximen was already there, waiting for her. “The merchants expect Zimraan’s caravan in five sun jumps.”

  “How do they know he’s coming then?” she asked.

  “Most big caravans send runners a few sun jumps ahead to inform the next city of the
ir arrival, to hire muscle to carry their goods down to the market, and to arrange for someone to care for their gamelus while they’re in the city.” Ximen looked at her in amusement.

  “What?”

  “You know all this history and how to read ancient languages, but not the mundane workings of the city.”

  “That’s what happens when you grow up in a monastery. What else do I need to know about these caravans?”

  “They’re guarded. And Zimraan won’t want to upset the Heliacal Priestess by selling the platinum to us.”

  She jingled the osees in her pack. “I’m sure he’ll get over it.”

  Ximen smiled. “I take it your visit went well.”

  Shyla handed him the pouch of coins minus a handful for her to spend. “Yes. I want you to take this back to headquarters and fetch one of the Tamburah statues.” She explained about the deal. “You’ll have an easier time leaving and returning. I can take care of some business while I wait.”

  “All right.”

  “And can you check on Mojag? Make sure he’s still okay.”

  “Will do.” Ximen left to meet up with Jaft and Elek.

  Shyla searched for Orla. The woman was happy to see her and quickly filled her in on the news. The vagrants hadn’t found the mother of the infant left in the sand and they didn’t know where Rendor was staying. The city was buzzing with talk about the arrest of the monks, and the Heliacal Priestess’s obsession with purchasing platinum was still an active source of gossip.

  “We believe they’re melting the platinum down in the chapel on level seventy-one. One of my people caught a whiff of molten metal. The priestess has also doubled the number of deacons guarding all the chapels,” Orla said.

  “That’s not a surprise. Did you get any backlash from the rescue?” Shyla asked.

  “No. In fact, the search for the members of the Invisible Sword has taken priority and both the guards and deacons have stopped harassing the vagrants for now.”

  At least Shyla was able to make a difference for the communes. Baby steps was what Ximen had said about learning magic, but it could be applied to their efforts to help others as well. Eventually, they’d be in a position to effect real change. That thought reminded her.

  She asked about the people the deacons had tortured. “Are they fully recovered?” It’d been eight sun jumps since the rescue.

  “Some are. A few need more time, but Zhek is satisfied with their progress.”

  “Once they’re better what happens to them?”

  “They are afraid to return to their lives, so they’ve asked to remain with us. As long as they contribute to the commune, they’re welcome to stay.”

  “I’d like to talk to them,” Shyla said.

  “They’re asleep right now, but I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you when they wake. How long are you staying?”

  “Just another sun jump.” Sleeping sounded like a good idea, so she headed to her room. As she sank into the cushion, she wondered if she could justify using her newly acquired coins to buy a couple sleeping cushions. Would Zimraan have any to sell? And why was she obsessed with this? Perhaps thinking about obtaining a comfortable cushion kept her from contemplating the fact she had no one to share it with. No one had seen Rendor. Did that mean he’d left the city? And why did that notion hurt so much?

  Orla was right. The group she’d helped rescue cheered when she entered their quarters around angle twenty. A dozen total—part of an extended family that had gotten on the priestess’s bad side—they stayed in a large room that had sleeping cushions, furs, tables, and a sitting area. They also cared for the four that still required assistance.

  After she explained about their potential to have magic because of the trauma they had experienced, they all immediately agreed to allow her to test them, even those four who couldn’t stand.

  Of the twelve, only two had been cracked, and one was younger than Mojag. Too young, but she was determined to be a part.

  “When you’re older,” Shyla said to her. And she explained to Wazir, the other one, that he’d have to relive the horrors he had experienced in order for her to fully open his magic.

  “You saved my son. I’ll do whatever it takes to help you,” Wazir said.

  The mention of his son sent a jolt of alarm straight through her along with a sudden realization. The other Invisible Sword members didn’t have children, which she was very glad about. And she didn’t want Wazir’s son to grow up without his father. Or for his wife to lose her husband.

  “You can help by taking care of your son. I’ll find another-”

  “Do you think I want him to grow up in a world where your family can be arrested or grabbed by power hungry deacons for little to no reason? He will be safe here in the commune while I fight to make Zirdai a good place to raise a family.”

  “We will fight.” Another man stood next to Wazir. “I might not have magic, but I have a strong back.”

  Two young women joined them.

  “Us, too,” one of them said. “If we want things to change, we have to stop waiting for someone else to change them.”

  Hard to argue with that. “Welcome to the Invisible Sword.”

  Shyla spent the rest of the sun jump stalking deacons. While she couldn’t get near the ones in the chapels due to the deacons guarding them—at least one and sometimes two of the four wore a torque—she followed the deacons leaving. None showed any signs that they wielded magic. Most of the citizens parted or stepped out of their way, but that was probably due to fear.

  Giving up on them, Shyla slipped inside the dining cavern on level twenty-nine during second meal and observed the kitchen staff. There she noted a few people with scars circling their wrists. Even though they were technically deacons, they wore light green tunics and pants instead of the robes. And most of them wore white aprons.

  When one of the deacons who’d been outside guarding the dining cavern came into the kitchen, Shyla experienced a strong desire not to look in certain areas. Brushing the magic aside, she marked the two female workers who had frozen in place. Their fear was evident in their postures and darting glances. The women only relaxed once the deacon left the kitchen.

  After the kitchen staff cleaned up, the workers returned to their dorms. They only had about thirty-five angles before they needed to return to set up for third meal. Shyla shadowed the two women. It wasn’t long before they entered one of the rooms along with two others. Most of the priestess’s deacons lived in dormitories near where they worked. The higher-ranking deacons stayed in apartments near the chapels.

  When the tunnel emptied, Shyla strode to their room and knocked on the door. The sudden knowledge that the room was empty pressed on her along with the need to leave. Her stomach churned as she realized these women were still being abused. She blocked their magic and projected her own.

  Friend.

  The door slid open a crack. “I don’t know you,” the woman said so low it was almost a whisper.

  “You don’t, but you will. Can I come in?”

  Friend.

  A hesitation, but then she widened the gap and let Shyla into the small room. She remained by the now closed door as if she planned to dash out if Shyla tried anything untoward. The room contained two druks, four sleeping cushions, four trunks, and four scared women. The two on the right pushed, go away, go away, go away. Shyla deflected the magic as she met each of their gazes, taking their measure.

  “What do you want?” the lady on the far left demanded. She had her hands on her cocked hip—the unofficial leader.

  “To help.”

  A bitter laugh. “Go sign up at the chapel. The deacons are always looking for new recruits.”

  “Not that kind of help.” Shyla pulled her wrap down, revealing her hair.

  The four women stared at her as if she’d just uncovered the sun.

  “You’re…”

  “You can’t be here,” the woman by the door said. “They’ll kill you.”

  “And
us,” the leader added.

  Go away.

  Go away.

  Go away.

  Shyla turned to the two using magic. “I’m not going away. You can’t make me, nor can you disappear. Do you want to know why?”

  Stunned silence.

  “Because I know what you two can do. You’re using magic.”

  The women glanced at each other.

  “Yes, that’s what you’ve been doing. It’s real. I’ll demonstrate to make this go faster.” Shyla gathered her will and aimed it at all four.

  Gone.

  Gasps and confused exchanges followed, confirming that they all witnessed her disappear. Shyla stepped to the back of the room and stopped the magical command.

  “You have three choices,” Shyla said.

  They started and spun around to face her.

  “We haven’t had a choice since being rehabilitated,” the leader said.

  “Well now you do. The first one is that you can do nothing, keep working in the kitchen, keep cowering in your room. Or you can run to your boss and report that you’ve seen the evil sun-kissed. You might get a pat on the back, but when they can’t find me, you’ll probably be in trouble.”

  “No probably about it,” muttered the leader.

  “The third choice is to join me. You can help stop the deacons from rehabilitating more people. I’m gathering an army and we’re going to change the leadership of Zirdai.” Might as well be optimistic that she would soon have an army.

  “Say we do join you. What would we do?” the leader asked.

  “For now you would learn how to fight and shovel lots of sand, and for these two…” She pointed at the women on the right. “They would need to open the rest of their magic and learn how to use it.” She explained what that would entail.

  They both paled several shades.

  “And the dangers?” the woman by the door asked.

  “Deacons and guards. Everyone is after me and my people. If you’re caught, you’ll be tortured for information and killed.” No sense dancing around the truth.

  “We need to think about it,” the leader said.

  “Of course.” Shyla told them where to meet. “Be there by angle three-fifty-five. If anyone else trustworthy wants to join, they’re welcome. And I’ll know if there’s an ambush of deacons waiting for me.” Although she doubted they would rat her out. “So be prepared for any backlash that will cause.”