by Kelly Coon
I was going to be sick.
“Gods of the skies, Dagan, we have to leave. Right now.” I tugged on his arm. “Uruku knows! He realizes he was poisoned, and that someone is out to get him. That’s why Warad is here! He’s—”
But Uruku interrupted me. “We have a traitor in our midst.” His voice was controlled, though agony twisted his features in a knot. “Someone seeks to gain the throne by killing me. Trying to kill my wife and heir. But we will not be torn down!” He pointed a shaking finger out at the crowd, and some shrank from him, although many of the wealthier citizens cheered. “I put some of the traitors’ heads on stakes, but there is another in our great city, still.”
He paused with a grimace, holding the heel of his left hand to his eye socket.
I fell back against the tree trunk, my heart in my throat. I’d acted stupidly. I gave him the poison and it made our situation worse! He would take revenge. He thought it was Assata who had given it to him. Everyone in Alu knew she was a warrior. He believed it was her acting against him because he had her son! Frantically, I pulled on Dagan’s arm, but he was ignoring me, staring at the dais with a clenched jaw, his right hand hovering over his emerald dagger.
“We have to go, my love!”
Uruku grabbed Warad by his hair and pushed him down on his knees in front of the sandstone block. “People of Alu! I will not tolerate disloyalty and threats!”
Warad’s big, round face was resigned, his eyes dry, chin firm, under his scraggly beard. If Assata were here, she would slash her way through this crowd, annihilating everyone in her path to rescue her son, and we were sitting on our heels. But there was nothing we could do. Not right now.
“We need to get out of here to plan another way to poison Uruku,” I hissed to Dagan. “Come on!”
Dagan shook his head. “We can’t just leave!”
Uruku was bellowing on about loyalty and traitors in a ragged voice, wincing as he spoke, a hint of madness played at the edges of his words.
“What else are we going to do? He thinks Assata delivered the poison, and he’s going to punish her by murdering Warad!”
“But if he kills him, Assata could become unwilling to cooperate.”
“Uruku is not a rational man. And I pushed him over the edge with the gochala.” My plans weren’t working. I was harming more than I was healing! He will kill Warad because of me.
“So this—this—is what we do to traitors in Alu, citizens.” Uruku’s commanding voice echoed from the dais. “This is how we deal with them!”
He turned to one of the guardsmen behind him and snapped his fingers. “Your sword.”
The man unsheathed it with a soft snick and handed him the hilt.
Dagan pulled out his dagger.
Panic tightened my throat. “Dagan, do not even think about it.”
“I’m an excellent marksman, Kammani.”
“And they’ll see who threw it and kill you, too!” I pleaded, my eyes welling.
“Would they? We don’t know that!”
“Warad, Tavern Owner’s Son,” Uruku continued. “Your abum, Irra, was a traitor. Your ummum, Assata, lives as a traitor. And now you shall accept punishment for their crimes.”
Uruku nodded to the guardsmen on either side of Warad. “Secure him.”
The guards grabbed Warad and shoved his head down to the block. Warad writhed and jerked, trying to squirm from their hold. The crowd surged forward, some screaming encouragement, others yelling in protest.
“My love!” Tears spilling from my eyes, I grabbed Dagan’s arm again. “Please. We have to leave!”
Shaking with rage, with sorrow, Dagan stared at the dais, the emerald dagger in his fist. He grabbed my shoulders fiercely. Kissed me on the mouth and shoved me lightly away. “Go!” he whispered. “Run back to Laraak and let me end this. No one would suspect a beggar!” He licked his lips and looked at the dais. “I can do this.”
“No!” I whispered at him while the people around us shrieked. “I cannot risk losing you! What are you saying?”
Uruku drew the sicklesword high up over his head.
“Come with me!” I yanked at his elbow. Reached for his dagger. I couldn’t stand by and let this happen!
“Stop it,” Dagan growled as he drew his arm back. His eyes were closed to slits, his shoulders tense.
“Dagan! If you do not leave with me now, right now, I will run up on the dais and take Warad’s place. It’s my fault he’s there. It should be me dying on this day.”
He looked at me hard. Still resolved.
Guardsmen converged on the crowd, keeping those protesting in line with backhands and shoves. Women screamed as Warad squirmed on the block, but two more guardsmen held his legs while one yanked his tunic away from his broad shoulders to give Uruku a clean target.
“Is that what you want, Dagan?” I shook him. “You want me to run up there and take his place? Because I will do it. I swear to Selu I will. Watch me.” Desperation clawed at my throat. Because I meant it. I would.
“You will not threaten me!” Uruku’s voice boomed like thunder over the shrieks of the crowd. “I will not abdicate! The throne is mine!”
“Dagan please!”
Finally, Dagan’s shoulders fell and his eyes softened as he looked at me. At the sobs about to choke me. His lips quivering, he gently sheathed his dagger.
I rubbed his shoulder as I cried. “That’s it. That’s the way. Come on. Let’s go!”
But before we could move, we watched, struck with horror, as Uruku brought the sword down on Warad’s back with a sickening crunch and a spurt of crimson. The crowd roared as Warad shrieked and thrashed. Blood rolled down his sides, soaking into his tunic and pooling on the platform.
“He missed!” Dagan breathed. “Dear Selu, he missed!” His face twisted in disgust, he turned away and began nudging me through the crowd out of the Libbu while Warad screamed in pain. “Go, Kammani. Go.”
With a mighty yell, Uruku raised the sword again and buried it once more in Warad’s back. Warad bellowed like an ox on the slaughterhouse floor.
“He’s missing on purpose, Kammani. He’s punishing Assata,” Dagan said, eyes wild.
“We have to keep moving and get back to Laraak.” My voice was nigh on hysteria. “Regroup!”
As we fled toward the gate, I sobbed, turning back toward the platform repeatedly as the platform grew smaller and smaller. As Warad’s thick legs thrashed on the dais and muffled screams tore from his mouth.
But soon, his cries were replaced by gurgling moans, and not long after, they were replaced by the soft, still silence that can only come from the dead.
MY SCORPION AMULET in my hands, I sat in my medical tent, gulping in air, tears coursing down my cheeks. Nanaea crooned into my shoulder.
Ensi Puzu and the two councilmen we were supposed to convince—Ensi Adda and Ensi Mudutu—had just left and were on their way back to Alu. I’d tried to give Ensi Puzu my poison to use on Uruku at the first opportunity, but he repeated that he would have nothing to do with assassination. He’d only promised to support us should Arwia take the throne. We’d done our best to convince the other two ensis that Arwia would be the best leader for the city, but whether they’d support her remained to be seen. Neither had sworn allegiance to her.
“Nothing is going according to plan. Nothing.”
“Shhh, Kammani. Shh. It will be okay.”
Warad was dead. Iltani was stuck in a marriage without her consent. Dagan was on his way to bring Rish to me. I’d looked at his poor arm the second we’d gotten back into Laraak, and it was violently red and festering.
All at my hands.
My stupid, useless, ineffective hands.
I’d left Rish’s wound open. I’d caused this agony to happen to him, just as I’d given Uruku the poison, causing Iltani to ge
t captured and him to blame Assata and kill Warad.
And Manzazu was poised to attack. In fact, they could be on their way this very minute!
“I’m doing more harm than good, Nanaea. I’m hurting everyone.”
“Selu will make sure things work in our favor. He’s listening to us, even if we don’t feel him.” Nanaea pressed her forehead to mine. Kissed my cheek. She took my ummum’s threadbare blue shawl and wrapped it around me.
“No, he isn’t. Selu doesn’t listen to anybody.”
Wiping my tears on the shawl, I stared at the pointed tail of the golden beast on the necklace and thought of Mudi’s advice. She’d told me that the Boatman was trying to earn his way out of his post, trying to replace the lives he’d taken as a warrior long ago by helping healers. That I should pay attention to him. That I could trust my instincts.
If that was the case, the Boatman really wasn’t helping me at all.
Or is he trying to and I am not listening?
The image of the Boatman standing on the banks of the river with his band of warriors behind him flickered into my sights again, and I held it there, watching him. He took a bottle from his satchel, and from the way the light was hitting it in my memory, I’d swear it had been red. A deep crimson like the nerium bottle on the merchant woman’s booth. But I didn’t have the nerium or a different red bottle of tincture! I rummaged around in my healing satchel again to check, but nothing was there that looked even close to the bottle he held.
And how can I get to Uruku without hurting more people, even if I did have the right tincture? It will be impossible to sneak around as we’ve been doing, and I’ve already done so much harm!
My spirits fell even further as my tent opened and Dagan appeared at the opening, Rish in his arms. The boy was writhing in agony, his arm oozing, swollen to twice its normal size. The tinctures I’d given him weren’t working. Cleaning the wound wasn’t working. His arm was primed to kill him if I didn’t do something about it.
Do no harm.
But in Rish’s case, the harm was the healing.
“I’m going to go. I’ll be back later, all right?” Nanaea’s eyes filled and she fled the tent, and honestly, it was all I could do not to follow her. Because what I was about to do would probably be the most difficult thing I’d ever done.
Tears ran down my cheeks as I eyeballed the bone saw glittering in the basket near the doorway as if it were a sea monster with rows of sharp teeth. Though it would be horrible, and would require more courage than I probably even had, I’d have to take the arm so I could spare his life.
I met Dagan’s tortured eyes as he kissed Rish’s head softly.
“I’m not ready for this, Kammani,” Dagan said, his voice breaking.
I just nodded because there was nothing else to say.
* * *
Dagan paced in front of Rish, who wailed and thrashed on the pallet like an animal caught in a trap. Clenching and unclenching his hands, Dagan stopped and looked at me warily.
It had been half an hour, and the arnica and hemp weren’t even dulling the pain anymore.
“Dagan, I have to do it now. It’s inhumane to wait any longer.”
“I know this is the only way to heal him.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t want to believe it, but I know it’s true.”
My throat closed around my pain. “I need to fix him, and I need to do it before the infection travels farther than it has. He’s suffering, my love!”
I bent over my healing table and mixed a poppy mixture heavy enough to send him into his dreams through the agony of the surgery and into the night.
At last, Dagan nodded, tears in his eyes. “All right. You can give it to him. I don’t want to let you do this, but…we must. And I can help you.”
My hands shaking, I handed him the vial. “My many thanks,” I whispered. “He needs to drink this.”
His eyes in torment, he walked to his little brother and got on his knees beside the pallet, crooning softly into his ear while Rish wailed. He sat him up and poured the tonic into his mouth, encouraging each swallow until Rish’s eyes grew heavy and eventually his lashes rested on his cheeks. Dagan was the picture of love and support to him, a man worthy of being called an abum one day.
The thought striking me as bizarre at this terrible occasion, I wiped my trembling hands down my tunic and walked to the water I’d had Kasha tote in from one of the Garadun’s tributaries and boil. As I grabbed the soap, Dagan stepped behind me. My eyes welled at his nearness. No matter what sort of harm I caused, he was still there for me. No matter what. The warmth and heady smell of his tunic stilled my hands, and I craned my neck around to face him.
He touched my cheek, his eyes filled with tears.
“My love…” My eyes welled as my lip trembled. “I’m sorry….”
“Shhh, shhh, shhh, Arammu.”
“I did more harm than good.” My voice broke.
His chin bunched. “This isn’t all your fault, Arammu. I asked you to treat him, and we were trying our best. Isn’t that a healer’s job? To do their very best? Try to ease people’s pain? You tried. And that’s all we can do.”
“I should have listened to myself, though. I knew not to leave the wound open!”
“Well, then you must learn to pay attention to what your instincts tell you. You will only be a better healer for it. And I should have just listened to what you recommended and shut my mouth!”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
Easing away from his touch, I plunged my hands down into the warmth of the washbasin, scouring with the bristle brush and the soap. He went around to the other side of the tub. Dipped his own hands into the water, too, and began to scrub right along with me.
“I should have stepped up with Rish and helped you find a different solution instead of pressuring you to heal him. Something. You are not in this alone, my sweet. You are not in this life alone.”
The words rubbed me raw, because though he took some of the fault on himself, it really wasn’t. I had known what needed to be done and I didn’t do it. Period. I scrubbed the bristles under my fingernails, removing the grime and the dirt. Scrubbing and scrubbing and scrubbing some more.
Under the water, Dagan took the brush. Rubbed his thumbs over the tops of my hands. I met his eyes. “Forgive me for my part in this, Kammani. Forgive yourself,” he breathed across the washtub. “Remember how much I care. I will help you with Rish, and I will help you moving forward. Whatever you need.”
Stifling the tears in my throat, I nodded. After several moments, I wiped the tears from my eyes with my arm while my hands dripped over the basin. “I’ll need it. This is a—trying task.”
“It is, and likely one of many we will need to endure. Together.” He swallowed, and I looked up at his handsome face. Tears ran down his cheeks. “My family needs us both to be strong.” His throat bobbed. “I don’t think I’m doing a very good job.”
“Yes, you are,” I whispered.
He finished washing his hands. “I hope my ummum still lives. I feel guilty being happy that it wasn’t her being killed on the platform.” He wiped his eyes on his arm, keeping his hands clean as he’d seen me do. “And angry. I feel so—angry for what Uruku has done.” He shook off the water and grabbed a cloth stitched with little red rosettes. Nanaea’s handiwork. He handed me one, too. “I am not a violent man, as you well know. But there’s nothing, outside of risking your life, I wouldn’t do to stop him, Kammani. Nothing.”
“I know. We just need to find a solution to do that.” Rubbing my fingers over the red rosettes that Nanaea had stitched at the bottom in beautifully neat little rows, I was suddenly struck by a thought.
Nanaea and her sewing could be the key.
She’d been so clever with her disguises that perhaps she could devise something else now to help us get
into Uruku’s chamber or throne room. We’d need a diversion and a sneak attack. Perhaps Higal would help with some of the Koru since they were itching to fight anyway. And no one knew who they were and would underestimate the women, as Ummi had once told me they would do.
So if we played into that and disguised them as something helpless—
I racked my brain, thinking of what women’s position would be the least assuming in this city-state, as the warriors would never pass as servants. Iltani’s mournful face as she stood with the other women on the dais dressed like maidens to be wed floated into my memory.
“Brides!” I said to Dagan. “We can make them brides to be given to Uruku!”
“Make who brides?” Dagan looked around the tent. “What are you talking about?”
“He’d never suspect them if they were given from a group of traders. Once they got to his chamber, they could kill him, and we could restore Arwia to her rightful place. It can work, Dagan, it can.”
“Are you…talking to me? Or to yourself?” Dagan finished drying his hands, his face puzzled.
My heart beating madly, I set aside the cloth and picked up the bone saw to clean it in the basin.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry! I’m just thinking out loud. Dagan, what if we prevented war by turning the Palace’s own sick deeds against them?” I asked as I scrubbed. “We can pretend that a handful of the Koru are brides and give them to Uruku! Nanaea could dress them in finery!”
His eyes lit up with the prospect as the realization of what I was saying sank in. “Yes. Yes, that’s a very good idea. He wouldn’t turn a group of women away. He’ll underestimate them!”
My heart lifting momentarily, I pulled the saw from the water once it was clean and laid it on a linen next to my other supplies. “Yes! And we need to talk it all through with you and Nanaea and everyone else after our work here is done.”
“Then we’ll do that. But—” He took a deep breath. “First things first, though, right?” His eyes softened as he looked at me, then at his brother.