Warmaidens

by Kelly Coon

  His brow furrowed. “Do you think I’d ever force you to do anything? You know I would never do that. We could make it work somehow. I swear it.”

  “Dagan, listen—” But my response was swept out of my mouth, out of my head, as a long, strangled scream tore the night in two.

  “Who was that?” I whispered, panic spreading through my body like fire.

  We leapt to our feet, and Dagan pulled his dagger from its sheath as shouts erupted near the far end of the courtyard.

  He looked at me, fear twisting his features.

  “That sounded a lot like—”

  “—Arwia,” I finished.

  Hands clasped tightly together, we fled the tent.

  WITH TORCHES HELD high, alarmed wedding-goers clustered in the corner of the courtyard near a small thatch of olive trees draped with silk streamers.

  Arwia stood near Nasu, her face a sickly shade of amber, one hand pressed to her ear. Blood seeped onto her tunic and dripped down her long strands of black hair.

  “Nasu!” Dagan shouted.

  “Over here!” Nasu raised one lanky arm.

  We weaved through concerned bystanders to get to the former Alu guardsman. He greeted us with worried eyes. “She’s hurt. Badly.” He flexed his angular jaw.

  “Let me see your ear, Arwia,” I demanded. Blood was seeping through her fingers.

  She moved her small hand away from the side of her head with a wince, and I held in a gasp. Her ear was nearly severed from her head.

  “What do you need?” Dagan asked me.

  “For now? A clean cloth.”

  “Got it.” Dagan squeezed my elbow and sprinted away.

  I reached up to examine the cartilage. Blood oozed from the wound. She’d need stitches and a pain tonic. Immediately. But I’d have to get to my healing chambers to get those. I hadn’t worn my healing satchel, which had obviously been a mistake. Within moments, Dagan was back and I pressed the clean dining linens he’d found against her head until I could sew her back up.

  “What happened?” Dagan crossed his arms over his chest, eyes sharp. Pointed.

  Arwia quivered from head to toe. “Everything was fine! I was dancing. Iltani was drunk, and I was trying to get her to dance with me to get away from that lecherous man who always grabs women in the marketplace.” She took a shaky breath. “And then a man who was wearing Manzazu clothes, but in the wrong way, a very wrong way, pulled me over here near the olive grove. And before I could even think about reaching for my dagger, he had his own out and tried to slit my throat!”

  She gulped and tears filled her eyes. “But the Koru were there, and the next thing I knew, he was on the ground and my ear felt like it was on fire.”

  Commander Ummi and Humusi and another young warrior, part of the queen’s main army, pushed through the crowds, revealing a man facedown on the ground. Black blood stained the sand around his body, likely from a gut wound.

  Wiping his blood from her battle-ax onto her tunic, Ummi hung the weapon at her side. She nodded to the young warrior, who looked no older than Nanaea. “Tell the sarratum and your regiment leader about this, and go to the wall. Humusi and I will stay.”

  “Yes, Commander.” She ran out of the courtyard, her sickleswords bouncing on her hips.

  “What happened?” I asked Ummi.

  “This man tried to assassinate your exiled sarratum, it seems. I caught him in the act, and as he fell, his blade slipped from her throat to her ear.”

  She kicked the man over onto his back. He had a patchy beard and lean, rangy face that looked oddly familiar. Sucking in his breath, Nasu dropped to a knee next to the man. After a moment, he looked up gravely.

  “I know him. He’s an Alu guardsman. I used to spar with him near the Pit.” He swallowed, throat bobbing. “He was quiet as a fox and lethal with his knives. Lugal Marus used to send him on missions like this, and now it appears Uruku is, too.” His lip curled in disgust. “To think he’d attempt to kill the rightful heir to the throne of Alu.”

  Arwia’s hands shook. “This is why I left Alu. I don’t want anything to do with the throne ever again! I simply want to live in peace, which is what I keep telling Sarratum Tabni. She insists I must make plans to reclaim my throne.”

  “Wait a moment. How did Uruku know you were still alive?” I asked her. “For all he knew, you’d died in the tomb. He thought we all did.”

  She furrowed her brow. “I don’t know.”

  I looked at Dagan. “What about the men you paid to dig us out of the tomb? They could have told someone that we escaped our death sentence. Maybe someone heard about an exiled queen living here in Manzazu, and Uruku made the connection.”

  Dagan shook his head, his hands on his hips. “Those men are loyal to me. They would have never done something like this.”

  “For enough coins? There are those who would slit their own ummum’s throat to be wealthy,” Arwia said, wincing when I pressed the cloth more tightly to her wound.

  Dagan’s faced darkened in anger. “Then they will answer to me for it. But I can’t imagine that they would be so cold. I’ve known those men all my life.”

  Nasu stood, brushing sand from his hands. “It’s not because there is talk of an exiled queen, Kammani. There is talk about you outside the city.”

  “Me?” I pulled the cloth away from Arwia’s ear to check the bleeding, and as soon as I removed it, blood seeped again from the wound. I pressed it back firmly.

  “On my last trading mission with Ilu’s father, we stopped at Laraak, a trading encampment outside Alu. The traders gossiped about Manzazu’s healer from the south who’d saved the warrior maidens. It was a big deal. Some of the traders there knew Mudi, your healer friend, and apparently she’d talked.”

  Dagan’s face flushed and he pointed angrily at Nasu’s chest. “Why were you trading in the south so close to Alu? You were supposed to have died in that tomb as well to protect the maidens in the Netherworld! What if someone saw you in the trading camp and that is what led Uruku’s men here?”

  Nasu’s face paled. “I was protecting Ilu and his men as I was paid to do. But I stayed hidden. No one would have recognized me with my hair shorn like this, anyway.” He rubbed his close-cropped head.

  Arwia threw up her hands, which were covered in dried blood. “It doesn’t matter how it happened. We need to figure out what to do! If he’s tried to kill me once, he’ll try again once he knows he wasn’t successful. Alive, I’m a threat to the throne he stole from me, even though Selu knows I don’t want it.”

  “All of us are in danger.” I swallowed roughly. “All of us.”

  Dagan’s face twisted in worry. “You’re right. Nanaea, Simti, Arwia, Nasu, and you—all of you escaped the tomb even though he’d commanded your deaths.”

  “Yes!” I held the cloth tightly to Arwia’s ear. “Think of his panic when he found out! If neighboring cities thought he had allowed this disobedience to happen, they would believe him to be weak.”

  Nasu nodded, rubbing his lip. “And they could cast their lots with Arwia and take the throne out from underneath him.”

  “And he knew where to find us because I healed the Koru—”

  “—and because Nasu probably led them back here.” Dagan’s face darkened.

  “If I’ve done anything to put Arwia in danger, you can be assured that I will end the problem myself.” Nasu raised his steely voice.

  “Enough bickering.” Arwia’s mouth puckered in annoyance. Pain. “Uruku quietly wanted to take out the threat before we became a problem, so we cannot become a problem ourselves. We must stick together. Communicate. Figure out what to do next.”

  Dagan’s bright eyes sought mine. “He has to kill all of you, especially now that word will spread of this assassination attempt. And quickly. More assassins could still be out here. He wouldn’t se
nd one man for so many people.” He looked cagily around the courtyard and stepped closer to me. “We must get back to our home. Secure the doors until we’ve formed a plan to keep you safe.”

  “Well, I must go to the sickroom first. I’m to stay with Mirrum this evening while Mudi gets some rest, and I need to fix this ear or she’ll lose it.” My head buzzed with urgency. “Arwia, come with me. I have plenty of clean linens and sterilized threads there.”

  “We will go, too.” Ummi hitched her belt, which was full of weaponry. “To protect you.”

  “My thanks, Ummi. That would be a relief.”

  “Do you want me to come?” Dagan ran a hand down my arm. “If not, I’ll get Nanaea and Kasha back home.” His amber eyes picked up the light from torches held by the growing, murmuring crowd.

  “No, my sweet. But grab Iltani. Only the gods know where she is.”

  He nodded to Nasu. “Help me find her; then we can fortify the house. And warn Ilu. They may come looking for Simti, too.”

  “I will.” Nasu turned to the Koru. “Protect Arwia with your life, do you hear me? She may not want the throne, but she has a right to it.”

  Humusi looked down her long nose at him and grimaced. Ummi flicked him a baleful sneer, as if she hadn’t recently battle-axed the life from a man and casually wiped his blood on her tunic.

  “Be careful. Stick close to the Koru.” Dagan put his big hands on my shoulders and kissed me softly on the forehead. “Come home safely to me.”

  “You be careful, too.”

  They left, and the Koru, Arwia, and I trekked toward the sickroom, kicking up dust in the moonlit night. Eyes wary. Hearts in our throats. As we traveled, I kept the linen pressed to Arwia’s ear while Humusi, ever watchful, gathered stones and tossed them into the brush, checking for assassins who might lie in wait.

  As the sickroom came into view and my immediate panic about being caught on the road dwindled, Dagan’s question of marriage floated up into my brain like a specter. For the moment, it seemed we had more pressing concerns to attend to.

  I doubted Dagan would like knowing that the delay filled me with a quiet sense of relief.

  * * *

  Unease feathered up my neck as I picked up a candle burning in the dim hallway that led to the Koru sick chamber.

  “Through here, Arwia.”

  We pushed past rows of beads hanging over the doorway, and stepped inside the room with neat pallets lying in two rows. Ummi and Humusi followed close behind. The overwhelming sense of river rot—the rank, mildewed stench of the fishing docks—greeted me.

  The Boatman.

  No. I stifled the feeling. Stay away!

  But as I stepped into the gloom, the hair stood up on my head.

  Something wasn’t right. There was no candle burning near Mirrum’s bed. There was no Mirrum in her bed, either. And where was Mudi?

  “Stay back,” Ummi commanded, and Humusi pushed Arwia and me into a corner, covering both of us with her body. Silently, she unsheathed two swords.

  Is there another assassin here? For us?

  My heart thrummed, fear flowing through my body.

  Ummi dropped into a low fighting stance, both battle-axes drawn, and crept through the sickroom, peering under pallets.

  I strained to see through the dimness, a single shaft of moonlight from the lone window. I held my candle up higher.

  “Mudi?” I called out, my voice choking me.

  “Be quiet, Kammani. Let Ummi listen,” Arwia whispered.

  Nobody answered me anyway.

  “They’re gone! Where could they have gone? Mirrum was too sick to go far.”

  She shook her head, a finger to her mouth, and winced against the pain of her ear.

  Ummi poked under coverlets with her battle-ax and glided slowly, slowly toward the end of the room, her weapons flashing in the moonlight. Behind Humusi, Arwia and I shivered nervously, her blood soaking through the cloth and running down my arm off my elbow. I had to get her stitched, and soon. She was losing too much blood.

  When Ummi reached Mirrum’s rumpled pallet, she bent and flung back the covers to look underneath. She straightened, confusion on her square face.

  “They’re not here.”

  A horrible sense of dread rose into my throat.

  “Ummi, there’s a storage room. Around the corner.”

  And as soon as I said it, a sound of rushing water filled my ears. If someone was lying in wait, or if Mudi had taken Mirrum, then that was where they’d be. I placed Arwia’s trembling hand against the cloth over her ear, and scooted away from Humusi, candle held high.

  “A-zu, no.” Humusi gripped my elbow.

  I shook her off.

  “Stay with Arwia.”

  If Mudi or Mirrum was in that room and had been harmed in any way, then I needed to be there to help.

  Creeping between the pallets, each footfall enveloped by the shadows, I met Ummi’s eyes and jerked my head toward the corner where the storage room was.

  Ummi nodded and pressed her lips grimly together in a line. Her dark eyes hardened as her grip tightened around her battle-axes. Like a cat, she slid around the corner, both weapons in her firm grip, and shoved past the beads hanging in front of the storage room.

  I expected a shriek of terror. Or a cry of surprise.

  But there was only Ummi’s guttural “Oh,” the word whispered in an expulsion of breath. It was followed by a name softly spoken in the dark.

  “A-zu?”

  Mudi. Mirrum.

  Sick with dread, I dragged leaden legs to the beaded doorway, my stomach knotted.

  “Kammani, wait for me.” Arwia’s strangled command rang through the chamber.

  But I didn’t listen.

  I pushed past Ummi, whose wide brown eyes were filled with a hard compassion. She tucked her battle-axes away and laid thick hands on my shoulders as I faced what I already knew I’d see.

  No assassin was lying in wait in the storage room.

  But both Mudi and Mirrum were.

  Their throats had been slashed, and deep maroon blood was draped down the fronts of their tunics like aprons.

  I sat down hard right where I was, spilling the candle and snuffing the light as their bodies swam in front of me.

  Mudi. Mirrum.

  A healer and a warrior so ill she couldn’t fight back as she was trained to do.

  Murdered.

  My hands found my head and I moaned in agony. I was going to save Mirrum! She was going to heal! And Mudi. A sob rose in my throat.

  Behind me, Arwia’s quick cry, followed by hiccupping sobs, filled the room. Ummi barked an order to Humusi and they chatted quickly, frantically. Then Humusi left the room, her sandals slapping against the cool sandstone floor.

  But I drowned them out as I clung to my rational thought. It was the only thing keeping me from tearing the room apart in sorrow. In panic. Because why they’d been targeted was only a mystery if it wasn’t coupled with Arwia’s attack at the wedding.

  An assassin had been sent to kill a healer, and a healer he’d killed.

  The problem was, he’d murdered the wrong one.

  I WAVED A cautious goodbye to Ummi and Humusi, who’d walked Arwia and me home in the dead of night. After giving me their salute, elbows pressed into their hips, arms open like the goddess Linaza, they jogged away, and two other Koru warriors stationed themselves outside our home. Arwia and I pushed open the door, and I tapped the dust from my sandals before entering the house. Carpets covered the packed floor, and Arwia was constantly fussing about us dragging dirt in, so even in the midst of chaos, I wanted to please her.

  At a time like this, kindness was more important than ever.

  Nanaea and Dagan were standing, shoulders tense, in the center of the common room.

  �
��Oh, thank Selu you’re home.” Nanaea flung herself into my arms, nearly knocking me off my feet. The heady scent of her rose oil enveloped me, and I was grateful for it. It smothered the sick stench of blood, of death and gore and violence, from my mind. It wouldn’t last, but it was all I had at the moment. I hugged her, worry and sorrow chewing at my guts like worms, and she eased away.

  “Arwia, how is your ear? I heard about what happened! Are you all right?” Nanaea took my healing satchel from me and hung it on a hook near a basket of her colorful fabrics, where I always kept it.

  “Your wonder of a sister has managed to save it.” Arwia bent to remove her sandals, easing down at our low wooden table, the dazzling moonlight shining over the top of bowls and flagons from an earlier meal, casting long shadows. She eyed me warily. We had to tell them what had happened. Neither of us wanted to do it, though.

  “ ‘Wonder’ is a strong word. Especially since your hearing may be impacted for a while, and there’s little I can do about that while it heals.”

  Nanaea crouched by the fireplace, stirring a pot of steaming wheat porridge. “I’m sure it will get better and everything will be fine after a while.”

  Her ear might heal, but nothing would be fine for a long time. Not until we were all safe. Dagan engulfed me in his arms, burying his face in my hair.

  “You’re back,” he murmured. “I knew the Koru could protect you both, but I was still afraid. Kasha is upstairs asleep. Iltani is in a drunken stupor in her room, snoring loud enough to call the Boatman from the river.” He pulled me back and kissed my forehead. “Are you all right? You’re—” He stepped away from me. “You’re covered in blood.” He looked from me to Arwia. “Is that all hers?”

  “No,” I sighed, running a hand down my face. “It isn’t.”

  Alarmed, Nanaea looked up at me swiftly from the fire. I took Dagan’s hands in mine and kissed them. The last thing I wanted to do was introduce more violence into their lives. We’d left all that. Manzazu was supposed to be a safe haven for us.