by S Kaeth
“What’s happening?” Kaemada asked Tjodlik through Eian’s translations.
“They are Calling a Running of Ebrs.” His tone was grave. “It is the worst punishment an ebr can face apart from execution, although they are sometimes paired.”
Anger churned in her belly. It did not seem right to have ebrs, much less to torture them so. But Tjodlik seemed a reasonable man, and he had an ebr. She had judged too quickly in the City of the Lost; she couldn’t repeat that mistake here. And yet, some things were just wrong, weren’t they?
She shook her head and squeezed Eian’s hand. This didn’t seem like a place for children to be, but events had brought Eian into many such situations in the past moons. Other children were scattered among the onlookers, and that didn’t seem right either.
A murmur rippled through the crowd, and Tjodlik leaned down to inform her, “The ebrs are coming around again.”
“Around? As in, they run a loop?” Elisabei asked.
Tjodlik nodded.
“How many times around do they run?” Kaemada asked.
“Until they can run no more.”
Kaemada bit her lip, her heart low.
Takiyah lurched into view, Taunos flanking her. The sight hit her like a punch to the gut, worse than all of Theron’s beatings. Taunos was completely bald, so for a moment she did not recognize him, but the features and movements were clearly his. Their ragged breathing and unsteady pace spoke of exhaustion, and blood ran in rivulets down their bodies. Takiyah ran with a pronounced limp, one leg twisted, and there was an odd red scar on her bloodied face. Taunos barely winced when the whip came down on him, and Kaemada’s stomach twisted. It was not bravado but exhaustion that kept him from reacting.
She quickly peeked at Elisabei’s face, but the woman was staring with a clenched jaw. So this was not a hallucination. This was real. Anger rushed through her and she gripped the ends of the shawl Elisabei had given her until her fingers turned white.
Ra’ael was nowhere to be seen, but the crowd’s commotion continued farther up the lane. Her skin prickled and shivers threatened—that was likely Ra’ael. How long had she been able to endure this torture before she had lost control? The Kamalti could never have prepared themselves for what they unleashed.
“Blood rage,” she murmured, then spoke louder, turning to Elisabei. “My friend Ra’ael, she has the blood rage. She must have succumbed. Can you help her?”
“I think the crowd will take care of the danger. I will tend her wounds after she’s unconscious, if I can,” Elisabei said dryly.
“We’ll need for stopping the mob,” observed Reinan.
Takiyah’s leg gave out and she crashed to the stone ground. Staggering, Taunos reached for her to help her up, but they both came under a rain of lashes. Taunos hovered over Takiyah, shielding her, though it drove him to one knee.
It was too much.
A shout broke from her and she pushed her way through the crowd. She caught glimpses of the cobblestones, of Takiyah struggling to rise, of Taunos slumping to the ground. Kaemada shoved through the last of the onlookers and raced onto the lane, snapping the flimsy ropes. The guard raised the whip, and Kaemada flung herself between him and her bruised and bloodied loved ones.
“No!” She raised her hand, pushing on the whip with her telekinesis, more on instinct than thought.
The whip faltered, her push blocking it from cracking. Crouching beside Taunos, she covered him with the cloak she had borrowed from Elisabei and Reinan and draped the shawl over Takiyah, who mumbled unintelligibly. Tears streamed down her face. So much torture. So much pain! She kissed her brother’s forehead, aiming for a patch of unwounded skin among the rivulets of blood.
He grimaced, then stared. “Kaemada?”
The guard struck her, flinging her to the cobblestones. Pain blazed through her battered body and Taunos bellowed in rage. She picked herself up and gestured peace to her brother, but this time kept her eyes on the guard.
“Stop this mind-sickness, please, I beg you!” Could he even understand her?
“Get out of the way,” the guard growled.
Explosions sounded behind her and the crowd shouted, drawing the guard’s attention for a moment.
“Do not hit them again. Surely this must be more than enough to atone for any slight,” Kaemada said, hovering over her brother. Taunos held her arm, trying to move her aside, but she ignored him, taking advantage of this rare moment when she was stronger than he.
A small hand touched her elbow. Eian stood beside her.
“Move aside,” the guard ordered.
“Eian, go back to Elisabei,” Kaemada urged him. She looked up at the guard. “Strike me if you must, but do not hurt the boy.”
The clamor of the crowd began to die down, and Tjodlik stepped up next to her.
“I may as well give up on all pretense of observing tradition since it is being so spectacularly disregarded.” He bowed to the guard, his voice pleasant. “Please, may I speak to the Scout in charge of this Running? It seems clear it has ended, at least for now, and I have need of words.”
The guard scowled, but lowered his whip and called to another guard, “Run and get the Caller.”
Taunos groaned as Kaemada knelt beside him. He reached for her, his hand wavering, and she held it, her fingers entwining with his.
“You’re alive,” he breathed.
Tears pricked her eyes once more, and she struggled to tear off the awful gauntlets around Takiyah’s hands. Her shaking hands and clumsy fingers made it difficult, and her frustration mounted to panic as Taunos and Takiyah both lay there, gasping for breath. Tjodlik reached over her, easily freeing the gauntlets, but blocked her hands when she went for the cruel collars on their necks.
“The collars must stay until the conclusion of the ceremonial punishment,” he whispered.
She nodded. It was not okay, but she was too exhausted and in pain to argue. “Tsífíorse,” she thanked him, holding Takiyah and Taunos’s hands and trying to rein in her emotions. She’d never thought they’d be in so much trouble. She was the one always getting in trouble. They could always handle whatever came.
Eian settled next to her, and her brother reached up with his other hand, brushing his cheek roughly with the back of his fingers. “Hello, little man.”
With a grin, Eian took Taunos’s hand in his two little hands and snuggled in.
Where was Ra’ael? How badly was she hurt? She turned, craning her neck. The crowd had opened up, forming a little semi-circle well away from a crumpled Ra’ael. Elisabei crouched over her, her voice curt as she snapped orders. Was Elisabei setting up to tend to all the injured, not just Ra’ael? She smiled for just a moment. Dreamer, indeed.
Tjodlik stiffened where he stood. A wide-eyed woman approached, her hand covering her mouth as she glanced at Taunos and Takiyah. She lifted her chin, snapping her gaze to Tjodlik. “Who wishes to speak to the Caller?”
Tjodlik frowned at her. “I do, but you do not carry the badge.”
“I am the one who is in the way of you getting your wish.”
“I am Tjodlik of Hadr. I am of the Philosophers.”
She gave a brief nod. “What brings you here?”
“I came upon these who live Outside.” He indicated Kaemada and her companions.
The woman’s expression darkened as she looked at Kaemada. “This trouble all started with her.”
Finally, Kaemada recognized her. One of the women guards who’d found them at the stairs and refused to answer her pleas about Eian. Lady Answer—Taunos had poked fun at her name.
Her brother surged upward, and Answer stumbled as she hastily retreated. But Taunos was too weak even to sit, and he fell back.
“You need to rest. Please.” She trailed off, squeezing his hand. What had happened to her brother, the hero of Torkae?
Taunos opened his mouth to argue, but fell back, his eyes closing.
All throughout, Tjodlik kept his gaze on Answer. “They came to inquire
about the welfare of their friends. I suppose it was a good thing they came, if only to say goodbye.”
Her friends were unconscious, and she was not in much better shape. Kaemada’s voice shook with anger. “They need healing.”
“Speak the Traveller’s Tongue, by the Crystals!” Answer snapped.
“They need healing,” she tried again, wincing as she heard Eian repeat her words.
“Healing is not allowed.”
“Not always,” Tjodlik said. “There is room for mercy, should the Caller of the Run choose. You are not him. But it would go better, were you supportive.”
Answer jutted her chin at Taunos’s unconscious form. “He was my ebr. He attacked me to get asylum for the other one.” Wrath emanated from her like a physical thing, though guilt lurked in her eyes and horror lined her face. Kaemada watched her carefully.
“The Running was for a failed asylum attempt?” Tjodlik nodded thoughtfully. “I see. That makes sense.”
“It does?” asked Kaemada.
“Yes.” He looked at Answer. “My sympathies. It is always a great dishonor for one’s ebr to seek asylum. But surely you can see how one may question how appalling the treatment was for you to cover it up in such a way.”
Answer opened and closed her mouth in outrage, then finally found her words. “There was no appalling treatment! I treated him well, and he took advantage of that!”
“Of course,” Tjodlik soothed, his tone dripping with skepticism.
Eyes burning with humiliation, Answer swept up what remained of her broken dignity. “I will ask the Caller for an audience for you.”
As Answer walked away, Kaemada spoke in a low voice to Tjodlik. “Was it necessary to so embarrass her? Will it go worse for us now?”
Eian chattered away his translation, and Tjodlik replied, “We cannot choose for others where they lie, and Answer had chosen her camp. I, therefore, found it necessary to back her down, whatever the cost to her pride.”
JAETAN-BAE
Chapter Twenty-three
Zegmohv, how fare your machines? These wondrous gifts, our legacy from the Takanis, are breaking down! We are loath to dismantle them, for our knowledge is insufficient to even begin to understand their inner workings.
-scrap of a letter from Doctor Kimtan of the City of Zhabik to Doctor Zegmohv of Codr
The Healing Hall was a large room full of lights and clean, plain beds, and devoid of any warmth, comfort, or hominess. How did they expect people to heal without the solace of community and the safety of home? Kaemada ran her thumb across the back of Ra’ael’s hand over and over while Eian ran around with two Kamalti boys, playing with a ball. If only she could speak to her friend—Ra’ael always knew what to do. There was no way for Kaemada to help here, especially when she couldn’t even trust her own senses. The side of Taunos’s bed had turned into a snake and tried to bite her not long after they got everyone settled, and she’d nearly fallen into another bed when she’d jumped back to avoid it. Heat burned in her cheeks just remembering the incident. Even worse was the idleness. She was in no shape to help her brother and her friends, even after all they’d been through.
An elderly woman entered the Hall, and Tjodlik leapt up and went to her, clasping her hands. “Aunt Dode!”
“Ah, Tjodlik, what a pleasant surprise. Have you been cataloging the disgrace of our City?”
Tjodlik looked down, muttering something, but Dode smiled, patting his shoulder. “No matter. We have done this to ourselves.”
The boys ran past, stopping beside Taunos, their chatter lifting some of the oppressive gloom. “This is Taunos. He’s my tachírmahkae,” Eian said, pride in his voice as his fingers tapped Taunos’s shoulder. Taunos did not wake up, and Kaemada’s heart sank lower.
The older Kamalti boy nodded, taking the hand of another man with the wounded leg. “He fed my father and I. We were there, at the Running. Father tried to help.”
“Thank you,” she said, catching the man’s eye.
Her voice must have carried her gratitude, for the man smiled and gave her a nod. “The Caller of the Running will put up a fight, but so will we. We saw what happened at the church.”
She returned his smile and pointed to herself. “Kaemada.”
“I am Rikr. You know, you Outsiders are not the monsters I thought you were.”
Dode and Tjodlik approached, and Dode stroked Ra’ael’s cheek with tender fingers.
Kaemada stared, struck with surprise, and ducked her head. She’d thought far better of the Kamalti than they were. Instead of legends, they were just people, like her own people, who had condemned the captives of the City of the Lost through inattention and lack of care.
Her voice grated when she spoke. “Why do you send people to the City of the Lost, to live in permanent imprisonment?”
Confusion lit in their eyes, and Kaemada remembered they couldn’t understand her. She clenched her fist, looking down at Ra’ael. She couldn’t even communicate alone.
Carrying rolls of bandages she’d found on a shelf, Elisabei paused nearby, repeating her question with her arms folded. Kaemada looked up at her, hoping her gratitude showed on her face.
Rikr blinked. “Permanent…”
Slack-jawed, Tjodlik shook his head. “Travellers who trespass on our lands are lost—typically, that is. They do not intend to trespass. So, we bring those who are lost to the City of the same name. The City of the Lost.”
“You’re trying to help.” Horror filled Kaemada’s whisper.
A scowl twisted Elisabei’s face. “If I had known that’s where you would send me, I would have objected. Firmly. The City of the Lost is where the worst criminals go to live out their days. They have lost the right to join in Rinaryn culture and we have lost them. That’s the reason for the name.”
Tjodlik bowed his head, covering his face in one hand. “It is easy to overlook details when you are set on ignoring one another.”
“We have done much harm,” Dode mused, holding Ra’ael’s hand. “May we be worthy of making amends.”
A scream burst out of Takiyah as she woke, flailing. Kaemada threw her arms around her, holding her until her shuddering had passed. Takiyah eyed the Doctor, who handed her water to drink, with clear distrust, until Kaemada took the drink for her, giving it to her friend once the Doctor walked away with a dismissive sniff.
Takiyah glared at the Doctor’s back a while longer and then drained the metal cup in one long gulp. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, then grabbed Kaemada’s hand. “Why are they healing us?”
“You must be healed for judgement,” Tjodlik said.
“That’s ridiculous,” Takiyah spat. She looked around, her green eyes hard and narrowed, and paused at Elisabei. “And why are you helping them?”
Elisabei plucked the cup out of her hand. “I’m not going to just sit here. I know herbs, and I can stitch people up well enough—and those stuffy Doctors can benefit from some watching.”
A smile cracked on Takiyah’s face, and she nodded once as Elisabei walked away.
“It provides time,” Dode said, straightening her shoulders. “And with time, we can put things in motion. Do not give up yet.”
Kaemada met her gaze and nodded. It was so much like Elisabei’s saying: where there’s life, there’s hope. As Takiyah’s shuddering ceased, her eyes grew drowsy, and she laid back down, clutching Kaemada’s hand until slumber loosened her grip. Kaemada pulled the blanket up to her shoulders, smoothing it out.
Hoping to soothe her, hoping she’d hear her, hoping for some measure of comfort, Kaemada hummed the Discovery of Daevin.
“That sounds very much like a traditional Kamalti tune,” Tjodlik said.
Rikr joined in, and soon songs turned to stories. Eian sat on her lap happily trading tales with the others, many of which held striking similarities between Rinaryn and Kamalti versions. It was almost like at home, except for the surroundings, except for the wounds they each bore. They needed to go home.
But the similar stories and songs spoke of a possible connection, and Kaemada snatched for it. Everyone only wanted safety. The Kamalti tried to achieve it by wrapping themselves in order, while the people of the City of the Lost sought ugliness.
At home, sometimes, there would be trouble with a different kaetal. She needed to talk to the Saimahkae to get her family, her friends, to safety, but the Kamalti didn’t seem to have one. So who could she reach out to, and how?
In the morning, Dode led a river of other Kamalti, all dressed in their finery, into the room. “And now, the culprits must look on the damage they have wrought. Witness the depths of pain and misery to which you have stooped!”
Some of those in the crowd pushed others farther into the room, anger in their bearing, while others slunk forward, looking sullen or guilty. Answer was among those escorted in, and Kaemada got to her unsteady feet. No more harm would come to her friends. She wouldn’t allow it.
“Priest killers.” Rikr also stood, his weight on his good leg.
“The Outsiders tried to claim asylum!” shouted one of the finely clothed men.
She resisted the urge to shrink from the hatred in his gaze.
Rikr jabbed a finger toward her while shouting at the cluster of Kamalti. “They have done less damage than you nobles have! Killing a priest? May the gods have no mercy on those who care nothing for them.”
Kaemada stepped away from the jabbing finger carefully, skin prickling with danger. Was this real, or yet another hallucination? The others were unconscious, and she could not lean on their strength.
A woman in the plainer clothes of the poor joined in, eyes narrowed on the nobles. “You used holy Gifts against the house of the gods. Have you no decency? Those Gifts should be stripped from you as a penalty.”