The City of Zirdai

by Maria V. Snyder

  “Cut her eyes out,” the priestess ordered Timin.

  Although haggard and disheveled, he appeared to be uninjured. Blood and dirt stained his ripped tunic, but Shyla suspected the blood wasn’t his own.

  “I can’t. You confiscated my tools.”

  She growled and sent the Arch Deacon to fetch them. He hurried through another doorway. Thuds and curses abruptly sounded from outside the main entrance, which gave Shyla a surge of hope. But the glass doors seemed to be thick enough to keep her rescuers from breaking through. Unless the noise was from the fighting. Had more deacons joined the fray? Did anyone know about the Water Prince’s special access?

  While they waited, Shyla didn’t waste the opportunity. Appealing to the seers, she said, “Imagine how many more people will die if the priestess wakes the power of The Eyes. Think about how she will rule. Before her term, going to confession meant seeking forgiveness. Now, it means torture and—”

  “That’s enough. Someone shut her up,” the priestess said.

  “She wants to silence me because she knows I’m right. I—” A force clamped on her throat, preventing speech. Scorching hells.

  When the Arch Deacon returned with Timin’s bag, Shyla knew she couldn’t count on being rescued. She focused on the closest seer, making eye contact with the young man. His power glowed inside him. It wasn’t a crack, but it wasn’t wide open either. Odd. Obviously, the seer could wield magic, but did that mean Jayden hadn’t had enough magic to complete the process? Would the man be stronger if he had been opened all the way?

  “I won’t do it,” Timin said. “Shyla’s right, giving you more power is insane. You should be locked up for the rest of your life.”

  The word locked triggered a faint memory. It danced at the edge of her thoughts. Something with Mojag and—

  “I’ll be happy to do it,” a terrifying and all too familiar voice said.

  Yates stepped into Shyla’s view. He dragged the Water Prince with him—they were the last two people she had sensed in the room. The prince’s hands were tied behind his back. And he’d been gagged. Blood dripped from his nose. His fine clothes were ripped and stained. Hatred lit his gaze. Yates forced him to kneel beside the priestess. The reek of the black cells emanated from him. Now Shyla understood why Yates had a torque and the prince didn’t when they had all been in the professor’s room. He’d been working for the priestess.

  The woman grabbed the prince’s hair and yanked his head back so he looked up at her. “You’re about to witness a historic occasion, whelp,” she said. “When I become both priestess and princess of Zirdai.” Then she turned to Yates, gesturing to Shyla. “Be careful. Don’t damage The Eyes.”

  “I won’t, Mother.”

  Son of a sand demon! Or, in this case, son of an insane demon. If she wasn’t in massive trouble, Shyla would have laughed. Instead, tiny barbs of fear dug into her skin. Yates took the scalpel from Timin and approached.

  If only she could move or break the magical hold or shut the seers out! Then it hit her. Not shut them out, but close them like a druk! When Mojag had gotten upset as she opened his magic, she had started to reverse the process before he stopped her. In theory, she could close them, but she didn’t have any magic to do it.

  Yates knelt next to her—an all too familiar and horrific situation. So much for The Eyes being so powerful; the seers just had to trap her in a bubble of magic and—

  Seven hells.

  There was magic. All. Around. Her.

  She glanced at the seer, reached with the man’s magic and closed his power with a mighty slam. The man cried out and crumpled to the ground. Yates paused, glancing about in confusion. Shyla did three more before the rest lost their concentration. She could move!

  Knocking the scalpel out of Yates’ hand, she sat up.

  Yates grabbed her. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  She twisted from his grasp and hopped to her feet. Before he could straighten, she kicked, aiming for the dark bruise on his temple from Rendor’s strike. The heel of her boot connected with his skull. The force sent her back a few steps while he only wobbled. She focused all her magic on him in one powerful blast.

  Sleep.

  He swayed but fought the command.

  Cursing his thick head yet again, she sent another blast.

  Sleep!

  Finally, he slumped to the ground. Then she turned to the rest of the seers.

  They held out their hands. “Don’t, please. We—”

  “You had your chance. You didn’t take it. So I will take your magic.” Or rather, close it. However she called it, it was still harder to do without using their power.

  Once she finished, she looked around for the priestess, but the woman was gone and the prince lay on the floor in a pool of his blood. The priestess had sliced his throat open. He stared at her with wide-eyed horror, but Shyla remained in place until he died, bearing witness. No grief touched her over the prince’s death. Instead outrage that his demise was too easy gripped her. He should have been stripped naked and hung upside down for a few sun jumps to pay for his crimes.

  An insistent banging on the door spurred her into motion. She opened the glass doors. Jaft, Rae, and a bunch of Invisible Swords practically tumbled into the room.

  Jaft gaped at the prone forms. “Did you kill them all?”

  “No. The priestess killed the prince, the rest are recovering. Come on, everyone, I need backup.” She raced to the other entrance.

  “For what?” he asked, almost on her heels.

  “To hunt down the priestess.”

  At each intersection, she sent teams of two to each side while she kept straight with the rest. Something pulled her in that direction. This area of the complex was intact, but soon they reached rooms with collapsed walls or holes in the floor.

  They rounded a corner and spotted the priestess. She stood on a small pile of debris. In front of her was a large gap where there used to be a floor. The destruction she had caused prevented her from escaping. Shyla took a moment to appreciate the irony.

  The priestess turned and stared at Shyla. The fury in her gaze was mild compared to the evil thoughts in her head.

  “You will not touch me,” the priestess said to Shyla. “You are sun-cursed. I am a child of the Sun Goddess and she will protect me.” She leaped across the gap.

  Or rather, she tried. The Sun Goddess did not grant her wings. The priestess fell without a sound. Although, when she hit the bottom, there was a loud thud. Shyla and Jaft rushed to the edge. Perhaps the priestess survived the fall.

  The unnatural angle of the woman’s neck meant there hadn’t been a miracle.

  Shyla returned to the throne room and sent her people to search the entire level and deal with any remaining deacons or Arch Deacons. “Take a couple of wielders with you in case you find seers.”

  “Seers?” Jaft asked.

  “That’s what the priestess called her magic wielders.”

  “Figures. Come along, Seer Rae.”

  “Stop that right now or I’ll make you believe sand rats are crawling up your pant leg.”

  Jaft gulped. “Understood.”

  Shyla questioned Timin about the survivors. “What did the priestess do to them?”

  “She had them all taken to the black cells,” he said.

  “Do you know if…” She was afraid to ask about Rendor. Because right now she had hope he lived. If she found out otherwise… No. She was not going to imagine a world without Rendor. “How many people were locked up?”

  “I don’t know who survived. After the explosions, I stumbled from my room and found a couple injured guards and got to work. When the deacons showed up, they dragged me away from my patients and presumably rounded everyone up.”

  “Are the black cells intact?”

  “I’ve heard there was some damage and deaths. The priestess was very upset to discover Yates had been incarcerated. Now we know why.” He shook his head. “Hard to believe that woman had a chil
d. Yates has been working for the prince a long time. She must have had all this planned out before then.”

  It made sense for the priestess to have spies in the prince’s organization. And he probably had people in hers. No organization was safe from traitors. With that thought, Shyla eyed Timin. “Why didn’t the priestess lock you up?” she asked him.

  “She wanted me close to harvest your eyes when they found your body. She was livid that you were blown up.”

  He told the truth.

  Timin peered at her with curiosity. “How did you survive?”

  “I’m sun-kissed. The goddess looks out for me.”

  “Uh-huh.” Timin failed to appear convinced of the divine intervention.

  Before she could explain what happened, Jaft and the others returned.

  “We got them all,” Jaft reported. “This level is secure.”

  “Good job.” Shyla called for Mojag.

  The boy raced over to her. “Yes?”

  “Go to Orla’s and get her grandson, Ilan, and his rats.”

  “His rats?” Confusion creased his face.

  “Yes. We need them for a very important game of hide and seek.”

  “Oh! Got it.” He dashed away.

  “Now let’s go free our people.” Shyla rounded up a few guards to carry Yates to the black cells. “Timin, Gurice, Jaft, and Zhek, you’re with us.”

  Timin brought his bag.

  Zhek tutted at him. “I’m in charge of the injured. You may assist me.”

  The physician didn’t react. Probably too tired to argue.

  Each member of the group grabbed a trol lantern as they crossed through the various grottos. Cracked tiles now decorated the big spaces. The water fountains either dribbled water, sprayed it, or were completely broken. A number of the stone benches had fragmented into pieces.

  They soon descended to level ninety-eight. Half-collapsed walls and a thick layer of grit covered the stone tables that the guards used while on duty. Many of the druks had shattered, but a number glowed with a purple light. However, the trol light they’d brought along was bright enough to show the dried bloodstains, green mold, and black grime that had built up over the circuits.

  Shyla’s eyes stung with the sharp odor of urine mixed with feces—all part of the punishment.

  “It reeks in here,” Gurice said, covering her nose.

  The deacons who had been guarding the prisoners lay unconscious on the ground. Two of her guards watched over them.

  One of them pointed to a pile of rubble on the right. “That wing contained the prince’s special rooms and was crushed during the attack. It’s underneath our quarters, which collapsed. None of the guards survived.” He clenched his fists as anger and sorrow shone in his eyes.

  “I’m sorry for your loss.” She’d hoped for better news. Then she remembered that the freed prisoners had been recovering in the guards’ quarters. She met Gurice’s gaze.

  Gurice understood her silent question and pressed her lips together, shaking her head sadly. Grief twisted around her stomach and squeezed.

  “Can you please unlock the doors to the other wing?” she asked the guard.

  The man and his partner moved to open the main metal doors. Two guards from her group joined them to help.

  “Dim your lanterns,” she ordered everyone. “Those inside have been in complete blackness for at least a sun jump. Some much longer.”

  The guards formed two units. Each took a tunnel and began unlocking the individual cells. Once the doors were open, the others streamed in, checking for colleagues and loved ones.

  Shyla hung back, afraid of what she might find and what she might not find. Her heart pumped extra hard when Titus limped from a cell. Then she spotted Nard, Daksh, and a few more Invisible Swords. All sported cuts and bruises. All disheveled and weak. All stank.

  Wazir survived, but he shook his head sadly when she asked about his three family members. “Wrong place. Wrong time.”

  By this point, each beat of her heart was a painful spasm. Who else had they lost?

  “Shyla, I need you,” Zhek yelled from a cell way down at the end of the hallway.

  She ran on numb feet, the pressure inside her about to burst. Most of the putrid cells were empty. Stopping when she spotted white hair, she paused in the doorway as her heart exploded.

  Rendor lay on the ground. His shirt was soaked with blood. His eyes were squeezed shut in pain. And he pressed his hands over his stomach. Blood leaked from between his fingers.

  “Hurry, child, and tell this big stubborn fool that you are alive and well,” Zhek ordered.

  “He doesn’t believe you?” she said, joining Zhek.

  Rendor opened his eyes and stared at her. But his gaze was unfocused and his brows were smashed together in confusion. “You’re…”

  “I’m fine.” She caressed his cheek. His skin was hot and dry. Too hot.

  “No.” He shook his head. “You died. I saw… I saw…you fall… The rubble… Gone… I don’t…want to live…without you.”

  “I’m alive, Rendor. I’m here. We’re here. Let Zhek take care of you.”

  He stared at her. “I saw… I saw…”

  “The wound is infected. No surprise given the conditions in here. Tell him to let me examine it,” Zhek said.

  Instead, she laced her fingers through his and pulled his hand away. Then she leaned over so they were almost nose to nose. “I’m here. I’m alive.” She kept repeating those two phrases as Zhek worked his magic. She desperately hoped they’d gotten here in time.

  Rendor passed out during Zhek’s administrations.

  “It’s for the best,” Zhek assured her. “He’s been stabbed. It’s deep, but the blade just missed his stomach.”

  “Will he live?”

  “He’s young and strong and stubborn. But if he doesn’t want to, then I’ve no cure for that. You must stay with him and talk to him once we get him to a better and cleaner location.”

  She recruited a bunch of strong men to help carry Rendor to another room. Zhek led the way and she was about to follow when she noticed Jaft and Rae clinging to each other as if they were fighting a strong wind. Oh no.

  “I’ll catch up,” she said. She approached them. Both had tears in their eyes. Rae sobbed with little hiccups. It could only mean bad news. “Lian? Elek?”

  “Both gone,” Jaft said. “Crushed in the explosion.”

  If the priestess wasn’t already dead, she’d murder the woman with her bare hands. No, that was too quick a death. She’d leave her on the surface for the Sun Goddess to cook.

  Shyla stayed by Rendor’s side, talking to him and including him in the organization of the clean-up and search for survivors. Shyla learned that Yates had challenged Rendor again. They had fought, but Rendor’s heart hadn’t been in it and Yates stabbed him, winning the match. Yates tossed him into a black cell to either bleed to death or die of infection.

  When Zhek’s potion wore off, all her aches and pains returned with such force that slamming into a wall would have been softer. All she could do was crawl under the fur with Rendor and pass out. They were in the room that she’d woken in when the Water Prince’s guards had captured her the very first time—a lifetime ago.

  When she woke, she learned Ximen, Hanif, and Kaveri were still among the missing. Ilan had arrived with his rats to find bodies. They had good news almost right away as Cat Toy found two guards who’d been trapped under the rubble but were still alive. The rescue sent a pulse of energy and hope through the search crews.

  The people had rallied and stormed the chapels, freeing the “sinners” and securing the deacons. Shyla would visit each one and assess them all when she had time. But there was one person she made time for—her friend Banqui.

  He’d been captured by the Arch Deacons when they’d ambushed the Invisible Sword and forced to work in the chapel on level seventy-one, melting platinum for the torques. While exhausted and malnourished, he was still in better shape than after spendin
g time in the black cells.

  Banqui leaned on Timin’s arm as the physician escorted him to Shyla’s office and sleeping quarters. Banqui grinned when he spotted her, spreading his thin arms wide for a hug. Shyla obliged, hugging her friend and ignoring the sharpness of his bones under her arms. Timin retreated to give them some privacy.

  “I knew you’d come for me,” he said.

  “I knew you had to be in trouble because you promised you wouldn’t leave Zirdai without saying goodbye,” she reminded him. But the one thing she wouldn’t do was tell him that he’d accidentally led the Arch Deacons back to the Invisible Sword’s hideout. The man had suffered enough.

  “Ah, yes. Your exceptional memory has saved me again.” He pulled back to look at her. His good humor faded. His fingers dug into her upper arms. “You… Your… You…”

  She pried off his hands before he could draw blood. “Yes, Banqui. Me.”

  “How… Why… But you…you…scoffed at the notion of magic!” The words burst from him.

  “I did. I’m sorry I doubted you.”

  “What changed your mind?”

  She gave him a wry smile. “I did my research and was shown irrefutable proof.”

  He snorted. “Typical.” Then he placed a hand on her shoulder. “After all that, The Eyes of Tamburah found the right person to save the city of Zirdai.”

  “I had help.” She gestured to Rendor’s prone form. “Lots of help from people willing to give their lives.”

  “All great leaders do. Thank you.”

  After Banqui left, Shyla worked on writing a list of the guards who’d died. A commotion outside her room interrupted her. She was halfway to the door when Hanif and Kaveri burst in followed by a handful of dusty and sweaty people. All celebrating. She was squeezed between the two as tears of joy blurred her vision.

  “Where—”

  “Trapped in the prince’s main office!” Hanif said. “The entrances were blocked. We couldn’t get out. No one heard us yelling.”

  “Or the deacons were ignoring us,” Kaveri added grimly.

  “Then the rats came and we thought we were done. That we’d die of thirst and become rat food,” Hanif said.