The Broken Heavens (The Worldbreaker Saga)

by Kameron Hurley

  As Roh entered the village, wondering whom they housed here, he saw the familiar chitinous armor of the Tai Mora soldiers. Among the soldiers were the support people, the dog-minders and launderers and cooks and doctors. Roh passed a doctor’s tent where a yowling woman was having a poisonous angler thorn, big as a tree branch, yanked from her leg. Roh had never seen anyone survive the sting of an angler bush when Tira was descendant, but with so many satellites in the sky perhaps she had a chance. He wondered if the Tai Mora tirajistas had some song they could use to heal that hurt, or if they had no idea that the woman’s life would be over in an hour without treatment.

  He expected their presence to rouse curiosity, but no one paid them any mind. Dasai had been someone up north, but he seemed unknown among these people. Many of these soldiers bore little resemblance to the Tai Mora or the Dhai. They were a mix of different peoples who had clearly come from a broad range of far-flung places across the other world. Some bore elaborate tattoos, others had piercings and dyed henna hair, or wore their hair in spiky locks, or slicked against their scalps with white paste or violet clay. They were tall, short, lean, with faces that were long or broad, foreheads peaked or flat, low or tall. He realized he compared the people of every other country based on how like or different they were to the Dhai. Dhai was normal to him, and these people were very different. Perhaps, now, he was the different one. This was the new world.

  Roh noted the few surviving Dhai among the camp. He knew them by the tattoos on their necks, like his, and the cut of their gray clothes. They had not yet learned not to meet each other’s gazes. Roh still saw defiance in their faces. Where had his gone?

  “Here we are,” Dasai said, as a soldier raised a hand to slow their cart.

  Nahinsa explained their purpose to the soldier, and gestured to the cart of goods.

  “You’ll want to see the quartermaster,” the soldier said, and waved them on through a fortified gate and into a large square. Here there was a courtyard of beaten dirt and several tents and hastily erected cabins. One was clearly a kennel, with spaces for bears and dogs separated. A blacksmith tended a forge, aided by a tirajista who worked at panels that had the gleam of Tai Mora armor.

  Dasai ordered Roh to wait with the cart while he and Nahinsa went inside to meet the quartermaster. Roh bided his time, singing an old parajista song softly under his breath.

  “Rohinmey?”

  Roh started, nearly falling off the cart. He jerked around to face the woman who had spoken. She was a lean woman with a big frame, wide in the hips and shoulders. Her plump mouth was pursed, and a wrinkled line appeared between her brows as she regarded him. He guessed she was ten years his senior, and she bore the neck tattoo and plain gray clothes of a fellow Dhai. Her thick mane of black hair was pulled back under a broad gray scarf.

  For a long moment, Roh did not recognize her.

  She came to the edge of the cart and leaned toward him. It was her eyes that decided him, large and dark.

  “Saronia,” he said. She had lost weight; the roundness of her face and figure were gone, replaced by a stark hunger that only emphasized the lines of her face. He knew Saronia was much closer to his age than she looked. She carried a basket in her arms, arms that had long shiny scars: burn marks.

  “What are you doing here?” he said, in Dhai, and it was a stupid question. What were any of them doing here? It was Dhai, and they were, still, Dhai.

  She shook her head. “Tai Mora,” she said, and continued their conversation in Tai Mora, even though she surely spoke too low for anyone else to hear them.

  “We all thought you were dead,” Saronia said. “All the scholars sent to Saiduan. Was that–”

  Roh shook his head. “It’s their Dasai, not ours. Ora Dasai… Chali, the others… No.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “It was like that here. We thought Ora Nasaka would protect us, but she just opened the gates! We didn’t know what to do. They killed anyone who protested. Stacks of bodies, Roh, so many bodies. You have no–”

  “I have an idea,” Roh said. He nearly placed his hand over hers, and stopped himself.

  She caught his look, and looped his hand in hers. “It’s all right,” she said, “I consent.”

  “I’m sorry,” Roh said. He looked around to see if anyone was paying them mind. A soldier at the door of the quartermaster’s office was watching them carefully.

  Roh got down from the cart, painfully, and helped her pick up the basket. It was full of dirty laundry, and when she’d dropped it, various pieces of soiled linen had fallen in the mud.

  “I’m so glad to see you, Roh,” Saronia said as he helped her refill the basket. They had not been friends, in the temple. Saronia was from Clan Garika, and she had been a terrible bully.

  From the corner of his eye, Roh saw Dasai leaving the quartermaster’s office.

  “You should go,” Roh said. “Let’s not draw more attention.”

  She raised her head, and did not quite look at Dasai, but she clearly noted his presence. She took up the basket and hustled past Roh without sparing a glance back.

  Dasai got up into the cart, staring after Saronia. “Who is that one?” Dasai asked. “Someone you know?”

  “From a long time ago,” Roh said.

  “Come now. The Empress has agreed to see us.”

  The various guards and additional slaves in Dasai’s retinue stayed on the plateau while he, Roh, and Nahinsa were escorted across the natural stone bridge that connected the plateau with the small crag of land that bore the weight of Oma’s Temple. Roh limped along painfully, conscious of how different his gait was coming back into the temple than leaving it. He followed the height of the temple, up and up, to the familiar glint of the dome. The Tai Mora had torn down the fenced webbing that protected the temple from the plateau and had completely rebuilt the old stone walls. Inside the walls, much of the front gardens would lie in shade. Roh shivered as he crossed through them to the temple door, which was barred.

  Roh had never known a time when the doors to the temple were locked.

  They entered the temple proper, ushered by the sinajistas, who unwarded doors as they went. The temple bustled with slaves, liveried servants, guards, jistas, and specialists of all sorts. Roh was overwhelmed by the heat and noise of the place. It had never been this busy; Oma’s Temple was no longer a place of study, but one of war and conquest and rebuilding. He lingered behind as his party entered the foyer, and pressed his hands to the wall next to the door.

  “Beast?” he murmured.

  Nothing. Only the subtle warmth of the walls, which he had felt his whole life. Had Caisau been a dream? Had he come all this way for nothing? He racked his memory for some sign, some key piece of information the creature had given him. The creature on the plateau will know you. Step into her circle and the map will unfold. You are the map now. You are the Guide.

  “Rohinmey!”

  Roh started, and hurried after Dasai.

  The sinajistas began up the great stairwell. Roh balked. Broke out in a cold sweat. “Keeper Dasai, I cannot. My–” he could not say, “My legs,” and choked on the words. But he gestured.

  “Could you carry him?” Dasai asked one of the sinajistas.

  She made a face. “Certainly not.”

  “You, there!” Dasai called to a big man sitting next to a lean, petite woman on a bench in the foyer. “Can you help my boy up the stairs? Just a few flights.”

  The big man rose. He was not tall, Roh saw now, just broad. His scraggly black hair and beard needed a wash and comb; he had the blunt features and stocky build of a Tordinian. He hunched a little as he walked over to them, right arm tucked against his torso. His right hand was missing. The clothes he wore were the simple cut of a servant. Someone had clearly dressed him recently.

  The man said something, most likely in Tordinian. Roh didn’t speak it, but many Tordinians knew some Dorinah. His gaze was flat and black.

  “Please, Father,” Roh said in Dorinah. “Wi
ll you help me up the stairs?”

  “My dogs,” the man said, in mangled Dorinah – or, that’s what Roh thought he said. “You have? My dogs?” He seemed to be looking at something just over Roh’s left shoulder. “Ah, ah,” he said. “Your ghosts!”

  “He’s addled,” Roh said to Dasai.

  The little woman next to the man got up, peeked around the man; Roh saw she had the beginnings of a beard. She was pale as a Dorinah, and looked as exhausted as the man. She grabbed the man’s good arm and said, in Dorinah, “We are waiting for someone.”

  “Could he take me up the stairs?” Roh asked, but before she could respond, the man was already moving, very quickly.

  Roh scrambled back, but the man scooped him up and hefted Roh over his shoulder. Roh let out a squeal.

  “Good, then.” Dasai waved at them to continue up.

  The way was deeply uncomfortable. Roh kept losing his breath. “Ghosts?” Roh wheezed.

  “See you,” the man said. “Patron slayer.”

  Roh froze like a captured rabbit. Who was this man?

  The little bearded woman came after them, heaving herself up each step, daintily tugging at her belled trousers as she went.

  When they got to the top Roh asked to be put down, and the man – surprisingly – obeyed.

  They stood just outside the open door to the Assembly Chamber. The sinajistas announced them.

  The Empress stood at the Kai’s seat at the great circular table of the chamber, one foot on the chair, pointing at two travel-worn visitors Roh took to be soldiers. Behind her were two slaves, waiting on her whim, and several jistas and councilors of some kind.

  Roh expected her to look much more like the Kirana he had known during his time in the temples. But this woman was wiry, with a harder mouth and flat, intense eyes. No glimmer of mirth or mercy there.

  She did not acknowledge them for a full minute as she continued speaking to the soldiers. “I thought I had Daorian murder all their jistas. How did this one escape, Monshara?”

  The woman soldier, Monshara, said, “He was unknown to them at the time. Natanial, tell her of–”

  “It’s good he did escape,” the lean man, Natanial, said. “You’ll need him for the end.”

  “But Saradyn? Ghosts?” Kirana rolled her eyes.

  “It’s complicated,” Natanial continued, “you should see–”

  At the name Saradyn, the man who had carried Roh grunted and yelled something in Tordinian. The sinajistas surged forward, but the soldier inside turned, and called them back.

  “No! Leave him. Saradyn isn’t terribly dangerous anymore.” Natanial crossed over to the big man, Saradyn, and took him by the elbow. Presented him to the Empress.

  “Where is she from?” Natanial asked, in Dorinah, pointing at the Empress.

  “No ghosts,” Saradyn said.

  “An easy guess,” Kirana said. She gestured across the room, to Roh. “And him, the boy, there? Does he have ghosts?”

  Saradyn let out a great guffaw. “So many ghosts!”

  Kirana folded her arms. “I’ll test him, then. He only sees these… ghosts from people of this world? That’s how he determines who is from this world and who is not? What is a ghost?”

  “I have no idea,” Natanial said, “but yes, he’ll know instantly if someone is impersonating one of your people.”

  “A fine gift. We’ve been sweeping the temple for spies for the last six months, and still have leaks.”

  Natanial bowed stiffly.

  Kirana waved him away. “Take the jista downstairs. Is that her?”

  “Him,” Natanial said. He gestured at the bearded woman – man – who had followed them up. “This is Anavha.”

  “I don’t need to speak to him,” Kirana said, lip curled. “Just keep him here. Suari?”

  One of the jistas behind her came forward. “Get this omajista warded and bound.”

  “Wait,” Natanial said, “warded?”

  “Of course. Every jista working in this temple is bound to me. Monshara, get him a drink. Take that Saradyn man with you. I’ll send someone into the foyer to collect you and get you settled. You!” One of the servants from the back came forward. “Escort them to the eating hall.”

  The servant led the group away: Natanial, clearly still unhappy, and Saradyn, babbling. Natanial said something to Anavha as Suari advanced, something low in Dorinah that Roh couldn’t quite catch, as Kirana bellowed for Dasai to enter.

  Roh hurried after Dasai and Nahinsa.

  “Keeper Dasai,” Kirana said, “you took your time getting here.”

  “It did not occur to me how quickly things were moving,” Dasai said, “until the last few months. I’ve brought this boy with me, a relation to the old Kai. He knows the old Kai cipher.”

  Kirana smirked. She pulled her leg from the seat of the chair and sighed. “The Kai fucking cipher. You’re a little late on that. We already have the Kai cipher! We wheedled it out of some little Dhai washed up from Saiduan. And we’re reading it correctly, now. We don’t need your boy.”

  Roh felt his face flush. Who else would know the Kai cipher? “There’s a book!” Roh blurted. “A guide to breaking the world. I–”

  “Quiet!” Dasai demanded. He raised his hand.

  Roh shrank away, but Kirana waved Dasai off. “We have the book,” Kirana said. “The Dhai child brought it to us.”

  “Luna?” Roh breathed.

  Kirana peered at him with greater interest. “You knew that ataisa?”

  “But have you translated the book?” Roh continued. Was Luna still here? he wondered. “Have your people memorized it already? Because I have. I know what it says. I know how to close the ways between the worlds, so no more mountains fall from the sky, so no one else will threaten your sovereignty.”

  “She already told us–”

  “Luna told you the cipher,” Roh insisted. “But I translated and memorized the whole book. How much time do you have, Empress? Enough time for them to translate the whole book?”

  Kirana moved to the other end of the table. She picked an open book from near a stack of others and slid it over to him.

  Roh approached the table. As he did, he noted its great circular shape, and the old mosaic map of Dhai peeking from beneath the scattered papers and writing instruments and various cups and jista concoctions. He had never paid much attention to the floor here, but he did so now. A great ring of the temple’s exposed flesh circled the floor beneath the table, inlaid with blue and green mosaic tiles along the border.

  Step into her circle.

  Roh stepped onto the ring of the floor, pressing himself against the table to manage it, and took hold of the book. He paged to the end of it, pointed to the complicated diagrams, the Worldbreaker there at the center of the diagram.

  “You need a key,” he said, “a worldbreaker, and a guide.”

  “I am Kai. Surely that’s good for something.”

  Roh shook his head. “Not here. Not to these temples. The temples are the beasts, living things. They have long memories. They remember who the Kai really is. And honestly, the Kai doesn’t have much to do with controlling the mechanism, unless they are gifted, or take on the role of the Worldbreaker.”

  “Then I will burn the temples the fuck down.”

  Roh felt the floor beneath him soften.

  “Then you will be burning a long time,” he said, and he felt himself sinking, dissolving, and he smiled for the first time in many, many months.

  The temple swallowed him into a comforting black embrace.

  My Guide. You have come home.

  Roh felt weightless. So much darkness. He could not speak. But he heard the creature thrumming in his bones.

  Oh dear, it said. You have come alone. You need the Key and the Worldbreaker. I cannot take you to the People’s Temple without them. Come back with them when Para is risen.

  Wait, wait! Roh wanted to shout, to explain, but the creature went silent.

  And Roh stumbled from t
he darkness – and into light.

  14

  “There are tumbleterrors out there,” Emlee said. “You haven’t forgotten them? They’ve had sightings ever since the funeral.”

  “I haven’t forgotten,” Lilia said as she packed her things. She had endured nearly three days of waiting while Caisa worked with her contacts inside Tira’s Temple to plan an infiltration. Ahkio’s heroics with the tumbleterrors had sent the camp into an uproar. In some ways, that was good. It meant fewer people paying attention to Lilia and her supporters. Meyna kept Ahkio very close; he was never alone, always with either Meyna or Liaro. Lilia had a terrible feeling about all of it; a knot of dread had formed in her stomach, and she had not slept well.

  Harina and Mihina had already gone off to gather those who had agreed to join this particular mission. It had been a popular one, among her people. Everyone wanted the chance to ride and work beside Lilia.

  “There’s one thing I need before I go,” Lilia said. Emlee must have seen something in her face, because she recoiled.

  “That bit of Hasao’s blood I asked you for.”

  Emlee firmed her mouth.

  “You must trust me, Emlee. I could bring the whole child, but I’m not. That blood I asked you for yesterday is all I need. Ahkio said the temple responded to him. It recognized him as Kai. If Hasao is recognized as Kai by the temple, I may be able to understand or access something in Tira’s Temple that the Tai Mora have not.”

  “There is always one more thing you need.”

  “Emlee.”

  “You ask too much.”

  “I will take it myself, then.”

  The box in the corner rattled again. LIlia shivered. It had been doing that more often the last few days, but she dared not open it. Kalinda hadn’t told her to open it, and she was honestly beginning to fear what might be inside.

  Emlee frowned at the box. “You should cast that into the sea.”

  “Let it alone,” Lilia said. “The blood? Do I need to get it?”

  “No, you are terrible with children. And Meyna will murder you if you approach her.”

  “Tasia and Namia–”

  “They are hardly children. None of the children here have been allowed that. They grow into useful appendages for you, too quickly.”