Race the Sands

by Sarah Beth Durst

  That was the most sensible option.

  Except there was Shalla, currently training at the temple, to consider.

  “How bad will it be for the augurs?”

  “Did you not hear me say ‘riots’?” Lady Evara snapped. “The people will feel the augurs failed them. They will feel betrayed. And frightened. Think about it: thousands of people base their life choices on augur readings. They rely on augurs for guidance and depend on them to steer them in the right direction. But if an augur can misread such an important personage as the emperor himself, who is to say which readings are correct and which are flawed? They will fear for their own future lives. And they will seek to punish any augur they can for creating that fear.

  “I think the seriousness of this cannot be underestimated,” Lady Evara continued. “Do you agree, Augur Yorbel? You must have some inkling of the truth of my words, else you would not have brought us here under the cloak of all those soul-corrupting lies you told.”

  Augur Yorbel hung his head. “The emperor-to-be must decide how to tell the truth.”

  “He can’t tell the truth if it’s going to cause riots!” Tamra shouted. “Just pretend you never found the vessel. We’ll pretend we don’t know. Treat him like any kehok and run our races. Then, no chaos, no fear, no betrayal, no riots.” And Raia and Shalla will both be safe.

  “An emperor must be crowned,” Augur Yorbel said. “The truth must come out. It is out of our hands. Ultimately, it will be Dar who decides what to do.”

  Tamra noticed he called the emperor-to-be by his first name.

  Lady Evara clearly noticed as well. “He’ll listen to you. Advise him to keep this a secret. At the very least, that will buy us time to put some distance between us and this mess.”

  That was a sound plan. Perhaps if she reached home before the news broke, she could grab Shalla and run. If there was enough chaos, the augurs would have no ability to chase her. She and Shalla could escape, invent new names, and start a new life. Raia could, of course, come with them. They’d be a family of three, somewhere far, far away.

  “Yes, keep it a secret, at least until we’re gone,” Tamra said. “Let me get home to my daughter. She needs me. And Raia—she’s suffered enough.”

  She noticed that Raia was staring at her. Or not at her, but at her tattoo. Surprisingly, she looked more thoughtful than scared now, any sign of tears gone. Does she understand how serious this is? Tamra wondered. Of course she must. All of Becar was going to go up in flames once word got out.

  Augur Yorbel buried his face in his hands. “There is no good answer. People will suffer, and I cannot prevent it. Keep the secret, and the emperor-to-be cannot be crowned . . . and chaos. Expose it, and shake the faith of thousands.”

  “And chaos,” Tamra echoed.

  Lady Evara checked outside the door again, then said, “Very much not our problem. Unless you make it ours. That much is within your power. Let us go into hiding before the river floods, so to speak, and you will at least save three innocent souls.”

  Four, counting Shalla, Tamra thought.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Raia had crossed the stable and opened the door to the black lion’s stall, to view the chained beast within. She wondered what the girl was thinking. It had to be upsetting to know the creature she had been riding, been controlling, was once an emperor. She hoped Raia understood that none of this was her fault. Neither of them could have guessed whose soul this kehok contained.

  Staring into the kehok’s stall, Raia spoke. “Or you could save him.”

  “Sorry?” Lady Evara said. “Tamra, tell your rider not to talk nonsense.”

  “He could win and be reborn.” Raia turned and pointed at Tamra’s tattoo of the victory charm, the one that enabled the winning kehok to be reborn as human.

  There was a breath of silence as Raia’s words floated in the air.

  Sweet River, Tamra thought. She’s right.

  If Raia and the black lion were the grand champions, then the augurs would use the victory charm—he’d be killed and then reborn as human, a perfectly respectable vessel for a late emperor. He could be found easily as a newborn human baby, then, and all riots and chaos would be averted.

  Lady Evara’s eyes widened. “It’s an incredible risk. He could lose. Or the secret could come out before the final race. My plan is far more practical.”

  Tamra touched her tattoo. It would solve . . . well, everything. If the kehok were reborn as a human and then found, Prince Dar could be crowned. The augurs would be blameless. Shalla would be safe.

  Everyone would have everything they wanted.

  “You know, when I said I wanted a grand champion, that was to motivate you!” Lady Evara said. “Before this news, if you’d failed, it would merely impact my treasury. But the situation has changed. The risk is too great. Win with a first-time racer and rider?”

  Crossing to stand beside Raia, Tamra looked at the black lion. He snarled, biting at the shackles that bound him. He was every bit as strong as she’d thought when she first purchased him, and Raia had proved she had the determination, if she could harness it for the races. The first qualifier had shown there was definitely the potential. . . .

  “Can you convince the emperor-to-be to keep this secret until the end of the races?”

  “I believe I can,” Augur Yorbel said. “Can you truly win?”

  Tamra looked at Raia. All would depend on her. That was a heavy weight to put on her shoulders. But she won’t be carrying it alone. “Yes. We can.”

  Chapter 20

  It was late when Yorbel at last reached the sanctuary of his room in the augur temple. He shed his outer robe, hung his pendant on a hook, and then flopped onto his cot.

  “Ow.”

  The cot was too stiff to fall onto like that. But he kept lying there anyway, because he never wanted to move again. He felt like a rug that had been washed and beaten, yet was still very, very dirty.

  It was not that the day had been physically exhausting—I’d rather have scaled a mountain or crossed the desert, he thought, if I didn’t think either would kill me—but it had been draining in every other way possible. Mentally, emotionally, and—most important—spiritually.

  After the kehok’s rider had learned the truth and they’d all agreed to withhold it, Yorbel had spent a full hour being coached by Lady Evara, a morally questionable socialite, on how to be morally questionable. She’d grilled him not only on what he’d say if anyone asked him about the kehok, but also how he’d say it. Apparently the “how” was as important as the “what” when one lied, and he had to pay special attention to eliminating any twitch that would betray his guilt.

  It had been an unsettling hour, to say the least.

  Afterward, he felt as if his insides were coated in filth that he didn’t think would ever clean off. Plus, he and his clothes smelled faintly of kehok and stable.

  As soon as he had enough energy, he was going to drag himself to the baths and soak in water that smelled like nothing but sandalwood and lavender, and then he was going to sleep uninterrupted until the dawn bell and not venture outside the temple for days. He just wanted—

  A knock sounded on his door.

  “By the River,” he muttered.

  Peeling himself up off the cot, he lurched over to the door and opened it. He intended to tell whoever it was that he was indisposed, and unless the temple was burning down around his ears—

  It was Gissa.

  She was holding a plant and smiling at him. “I heard you were home.”

  “Gissa!” He’d thought there was no one he wanted to see. I was wrong. Seeing her was better than a soak in sandalwood-scented water. Looking at her, knowing that if everything went as planned, he was going to spare her from her terrible task, helped more than he would have thought possible.

  “May I come in?”

  “Of course!” He backed away from the door so she could enter. She set the plant on his table and checked the leaves. “You fixed i
t.”

  “Water it once a week. Just once a week.” She sat on the edge of his cot and then wrinkled her nose. “You may want to consider watering yourself more often.”

  “I’ve been traveling.”

  “With at least one fragrant companion, or so I’ve heard.”

  He sank down onto the cot next to her. He wanted so badly to tell her what he’d found—she should know that she would not have to kill Dar and sully her soul. She could remain pure and still serve the temple and Becar. But he’d made promises.

  She had to suffer only until the end of the race season, and then all would be well. Provided everything goes according to plan, he thought. They were placing a lot of hope in the hands of a young girl. Of course, the rider wasn’t alone—she had her trainer. He’d seen the core strength in Tamra Verlas, and he trusted that.

  “Hello, Yorbel? You look as if you’re listening to bells playing miles away.”

  “Sorry. I am overtired. Yes, you heard correctly—I purchased a kehok to start the emperor-to-be’s racing program.”

  “Why, by the sands, would you do such a thing? You didn’t mention the emperor-to-be setting you on this task when I talked to you before you left.”

  Ahh, that was true. “It was my own initiative,” he admitted. Also true. “I thought it would be a pleasant distraction for the emperor-to-be. He has been consumed by worries that he’s powerless to alleviate.”

  “So you bought him a pet monster? Why not a puppy? Or a kitten?”

  “The people seem to enjoy the races,” Yorbel said. “I thought it would give Dar a connection to the people. Frankly, I only wanted to help.”

  Gissa laughed. “You are . . . you are who we all should be. Good.”

  He almost winced. Good people did not deceive their closest friends, especially when the truth could lift a worry from her shoulders. But he thought of Dar and instead said, “Tell me what I’ve missed here. How fares everyone in the temple? How are you? Have you enjoyed being home?”

  “Oh, no, you aren’t changing the subject so easily! You’re the one who went out and had adventures. Tell me about this kehok you found. I admit I have never seen one up close.”

  “Most are repugnant—slime, tentacles, jaws, a melding of animals that shouldn’t be associated with one another. In contrast, the beast I purchased for Dar is oddly beautiful, like a statue of a lion made of metal. But because of that, it is even more disturbing, as you look at it and know it shouldn’t exist in the world.” It was horrifying that the late emperor had become a creature that felt so wrong when you looked at it. That should never have been his fate. He should have been reborn as a being that was part of the natural order and granted peace in his next life for the good he’d done as emperor. His glory should have been remembered in murals and statues and pillars proclaiming his achievements.

  Gissa patted his arm. “You must be relieved to be home and done with that.” She stood as if preparing to leave. “You look exhausted, and I’m afraid I’ve burdened you further with my curiosity.” She didn’t cross to the door, though.

  “Talking with you is never a burden.” He meant that. Simply being with a friend already made him feel lighter. “It’s only that this was a difficult day. I am not suited to the tasks I have assumed, though I suppose one could argue I have only myself to blame.”

  She laughed again. It was nice to hear her laugh, so free and uncomplicated by all he knew and wished he didn’t know. “At least you didn’t try to read the kehok. Imagine how you’d feel if you sank your mind into that filth. Dirt can be washed off.” Peering at him, she frowned. She sat down again, closer to him, and placed her hands over his. “Oh, no, you did read the monster. Yorbel, you shouldn’t have. What did you see? Unburden it to me. Perhaps that will restore some measure of lightness to your own soul.”

  “I saw so much darkness.”

  “And?”

  He wanted to tell her all and spill the filth from his own heart. She was right—if he could unburden himself of even a bit of it, he would lighten his load. But that would be unfair to Gissa to ask her to carry his secrets and guilt and pain, especially since she’d have to keep it from the other high augurs. He couldn’t ask that of her. Once this was over and she was free, then she could know all. Instead, he spoke the lie he’d practice with Lady Evara, and felt himself shrivel inside. “This kehok has been through many lives as a monster. His humanity was a distant shadow. He must have lived and died as a man many decades ago. I could not see clearly what horrors he committed that doomed him to his fate, and for that I am grateful. All I know is the pain he caused eats at his soul even now, driving him forward.”

  “An ancient monster is its own particular kind of horror.”

  “He felt and caused much torment,” Yorbel agreed.

  “You must regret looking so deep into the well of depravity,” Gissa said. “Can I assume you will not go plunging your soul into any more kehoks? If the emperor-to-be acquired one such beast, he’ll want more. You won’t be reading all their souls too, will you?”

  Yorbel was able to answer this vehemently and honestly. “Absolutely not! I have done all the kehok reading I ever intend to do in my lifetime. There is nothing that could persuade me to stare into that brand of oblivion again.” He didn’t intend to even go near the stables until this was all over. His part in this was done.

  Gissa smiled. “Good. I’m glad I don’t have to worry about you, then. Stay safe within these walls, Yorbel. You are exactly the sort of augur Becar needs in difficult times.”

  Her sweet vote of confidence felt like an arrow striking his heart. Rising, he walked her to the door and thanked her again for saving his plant and taking on his responsibilities while he was absent. “I believe it will be a long while before I travel again, even outside of this room.”

  “I’m very happy to hear that.” Rising up on her tiptoes, she lightly kissed his cheek. “We all missed you and are happy you’re home.”

  He closed the door behind her and leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the smooth wood. If we win the races, then Gissa’s soul will be safe.

  And if we don’t win . . . If they started to lose, if the plan began to unravel, if the secret leaked, if anything at all went wrong . . . then I will tell her—and all the high augurs—the truth.

  It’s a lot of pressure to put on a kid, Tamra thought.

  Arms crossed, she watched from beside the track as Raia guided the black lion through the turns. The lion built speed on the straightaway. He had so much strength and power in his muscles that he seemed to be reaching out and yanking the earth beneath him, then throwing it behind him. But as he neared the turn, he slowed, only slightly. Any other observer might have missed it, but not Tamra.

  She knew it was fear—Raia’s fear, about all this—that was slowing him. “Dig into the turns!” Tamra called. “Embrace them!” The turns could be an asset if you approached them the right away. The lion needed to throw himself into them as if they were a pole they could swing around, but he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, do it if his rider held him back. “Use them to power you forward! You want the turns! Turns are your friend!”

  Leaning forward, Raia and the kehok raced toward the next turn. This time, they didn’t slow—and the lion lost his grip. His hindquarters whipped out, and Raia screamed as she and the lion skidded sideways and slammed into the wall of the track.

  Beside Tamra, Lady Evara gasped.

  “She’s fine,” Tamra said, and vaulted over the track wall. She landed in the sands and winced. Shouldn’t have done that, she thought. She half strode and half limped across the track to where Raia was checking over the lion for any injuries.

  “He’s not fragile,” Tamra snapped. “And neither are you.”

  “What am I doing wrong?” Raia asked.

  “You see the turn, and you hold back—you see it as another obstacle to victory, instead of seeing it as a tool you can use. A lot of kehoks lose speed on the turns. If you can gain speed, you�
�ll leave them choking on your sand.”

  “But if we don’t slow—”

  “He has to dig in harder on the turns. Plant his paws and push off. Think of a swimmer reaching the end of a pool—how does she switch directions?”

  Raia’s eyes widened as she understood. “She bends her knees, twists, and pushes.”

  “Exactly what you need to do.” Placing her hands on Raia’s shoulders, she turned her to face the track. Across the sands, Lady Evara was cooling herself with a gilded paper fan. “See the turns as walls you can use. Want the turns, because they’re where you can gain the advantage.”

  Raia smiled. “Got it.”

  She mounted her racer again and guided him back onto the track. Tamra backed up to the wall and ducked through the gate rather than trying to hop over it. “Do it again! Now!”

  Raia and the kehok shot forward.

  Yes! Tamra thought as they approached the curve. The kehok wasn’t slowing. He was running low to the ground, keeping his body steady while his legs pumped—

  And then a clatter behind her echoed across the track.

  The lion faltered. His head snapped toward the source of the noise, as Raia too glanced across the sands. Reaching the turn, they took it at a mere quarter of the speed as before.

  Tamra spun around, glaring, to see who had broken her rider’s concentration. Two men had entered through the black gate and were greeting Lady Evara in the stands. “By the River . . .” She recognized them. Everyone who knew anything about the Becaran Races knew them. “No, no, absolutely not.” I do not have time for this bullshit.

  The younger man, who was unmistakably Gette of Carteka, the winner of last year’s Becaran Races, was bowing to Lady Evara, lifting her hand, and kissing the back of it—the same Gette who had beaten Raia in her first qualifier. Beside him was his trainer, Artlar. They’d caused the commotion, leading a slew of their servants into the stable grounds, whom Artlar proceeded to order to unload crates and trunks from a gilded cart. Artlar was a seasoned trainer: a decade older than Tamra with a claim to training multiple grand champions over the years. He’d never ridden in the races himself, but he was still famous across all of Becar. He was tall, well-muscled, with a thick beard that covered a web of scars from his early training days—it had been many years since Artlar had suffered any injury from a kehok.