I think back to that group of old men whispering in the grazing lands. “How King Minoak has vanished?”
“Vanished is a nice way of putting it. Someone”—Temujin puts the word in air quotes—“tried to assassinate him. No one knows if he survived or if he’s being held captive or if he attempted to flee and perished in the snow squalls. He’s simply gone, and the entire region is a mess under the rule of the imperial governor. Just last month they beheaded ten Verdenese men for no other crime than refusing to remove the rings from their ears. It’s like Chotgor: all enterprise has ceased in favor of conscription.”
“But the Verdenese work in gold and silver, not steel and death,” I argue. Unlike Ashkarians, our people have always been crafts workers and artisans. That’s why Verdenet sought Ashkar’s protection in the first place. “They would be the first to fall in battle.”
Temujin wrings out the bloody rag and slaps it against the altar with a thwap. “Yet the Sky King sends them by the wagonload anyway.”
I want to say it’s impossible. The king wouldn’t do such a thing—the people of Verdenet have been an integral part of the empire for nearly two decades. But I don’t know for certain. As a member of the Kalima, I moved from battle to battle, never staying long enough to witness the “rebuilding”—as the king called it. And in the back of my mind, I have always wondered how Ashkar amasses such an enormous infantry, marveled at how eager our newest citizens always seem to serve.
Are they truly forced?
Hot fingers of guilt crush my ribs, but I will myself to stay calm. This is just one version of the story.
Temujin’s version.
As angry as I am with Ghoa, I’m not foolish enough to believe everything this rebel says.
He moves around the altar and perches uncomfortably close, knocking his shoulder against mine. “This is why we’re so desperate for your help.”
Warning bells clang in my brain, but I’m careful not to show it on my face this time. “I still don’t understand how my darkness can be of use, exactly.”
“There are hundreds, maybe thousands, of warriors who wish to join our cause, but they cannot flee the war front. The risk of capture and execution is too great. The Sky King is monitoring his troops more closely than ever with the Zemyans advancing and our growing notoriety. But you could swathe the warriors in shadow and help them evade the patrols. Ferry them across the grasslands and into the realm of the Eternal Blue. With your night spinning, our numbers could double in days.”
My fingers fly to the circular wound at my throat. “I can’t just wield the darkness out there in Ashkar. It isn’t safe.”
I also don’t like the idea of ferrying deserters from the war front. Temujin’s own desertion is one thing. He hardly had a choice—if his story is true—but encouraging it en masse? Purposely depleting our troops when Zemya’s on the offensive?
It feels wrong. Sickening. I press my fists against my churning stomach.
“I can’t.”
“But you just did. Chanar said the morning was as black as pitch around you.”
“It was an emergency. Orbai was dying. And I was barely able to contain the starfire.”
“So practice. Remember what I said? I can ensure you maintain perfect control.”
“Why?” I cross my arms. “If you’re so against the king’s conscription and conquest, why are you stealing warriors and cannons? What exactly do you plan to do?”
I expect him to brush me off with a vague remark, or insist it’s official business—that’s what Ghoa would do. But after a brief hesitation he says, “We hope that by stealing rations and cannons and luring warriors from the battlefront, the Imperial Army will be so depleted, Ashkar will be forced to seek our aid and agree to our terms. We will join with the Sky King’s forces and help drive the Zemyans out of Ashkar only if he affords the Protected Territories the aid and prosperity he initially promised us.”
I chew on his words. Temujin’s plan is brilliant but also incredibly risky. “You realize you’re playing chicken with the Sky King of Ashkar, the boldest and most ruthless ruler in the world? If he refuses, Ashkar will fall to Zemya. They’re already over the border and advancing every day.”
Temujin looks at me without a hint of bravado. The lines furrowing his brow are as deep as trenches, and he scrubs his knuckles over his eyes. It makes him look tired. And young. I had thought he was closer to Ghoa’s age, but now I see he’s hardly older than me. “If things continue as they are, we’ll be conquered just the same,” he says softly. “Our troops are in dire condition. We can’t just leave them to die.”
I stare at him, stone-faced, because the war front can’t be as bad as he claims. It can’t be.
“Rescuing our soldiers and then treating with the Imperial Army is the best chance we have at defeating Zemya and salvaging our culture and traditions,” Temujin continues. “Our only chance. And none of it is possible without you, Enebish.” He adds an unspoken please with the way he catches his lower lip between his teeth.
Despite myself, my cheeks start to burn. I take a large step back. “I’m sorry, but it’s too dangerous. I’m not willing to risk it.”
Temujin says nothing. The only sound in the temple is the scratch of Orbai’s talons as she hunts for crickets around the urns.
Eventually he releases a drawn-out sigh. “I suppose I understand.”
I practically wilt with relief. “You do?”
“I do. But I hope you will understand that I can’t possibly rescue Serik from the prison wagon bound for Gazar.”
His words plunge into my chest like an ice pick. He never offered to save Serik. He simply told me he was bound for Gazar, and I stupidly assumed the warning meant he cared.
“It’s too dangerous. I’m not willing to risk it.” Temujin flings my excuses back at me.
I gape up at him. “So you’re giving me an ultimatum?”
He flashes his dazzling smile, only now it looks a little too wide. A little too calculating. A little less like the caring “friend” who healed my eagle and a little more like the cunning leader I first met in the Ram’s Head. “I would look at it more as an opportunity. A partnership. I scratch your back, you scratch mine. I’ve already proven my worth, haven’t I?” He points at Orbai. “I don’t think I’m being unreasonable to expect something in return.”
“You realize if I lose control again, I could kill hundreds of innocent people?”
“If we don’t rescue the magic-barren soldiers from the war front, we’re killing them just the same.”
“You honestly expect me to do this?” I say, clambering to my feet.
“I don’t expect you to do anything. The choice is yours.”
“Serik is bound for Gazar! You know I don’t have a choice!”
“Then do we have an accord?” Temujin offers me his hand and I stare at it. Wanting to slap it back to his side.
“For a moment there, I honestly believed you were good,” I mutter.
“Good is relative, Enebish. There are a thousand sides to every story. A million shades of gray between black and white. Give us a chance. I think you’ll come around to my plan.”
I grip his hand, imagining his bones are a marmot and my fingers are Orbai’s crushing talons. “I won’t call a single thread of darkness until Serik is safe in the realm of the Eternal Blue.”
Temujin grins and squeezes back. “Then I’d better stop that prison wagon.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
AS WE HEAD TOWARD THE COLORFUL ENCAMPMENT AT THE bottom of the hill, Temujin tells me about the globeflowers—like I’m a skies-forsaken sightseer instead of an extorted captive.
“Seriously?” I snap. “Do you think I care about the scenery?”
Temujin holds up his hands as if I am the difficult one, and we walk the rest of the way in silence.
Orbai springs from my shoulder and takes to the cloudless sky, chasing the unsuspecting hoopoes that squawk and scatter. At least one of us is enjoying the realm
of the Eternal Blue.
I glare at Temujin’s annoyingly handsome profile. Why in the skies would the Lady and Father make someone like him Goddess-touched? Not that I’m questioning Their judgment. I’m sure They have Their reasons. Those reasons just aren’t clear to my skeptical, imperfect eyes.
The closer we draw to the tents, the more apparent it becomes that this encampment is very different from the ones I lived in as an imperial warrior. Those tents were small and felt, easy to assemble and collapse at a moment’s notice. These are as tall as the prayer temples at Ikh Zuree and made of shimmering silks and translucent tulles in every shade of the sunset.
Temujin lifts a panel of coral silk, and I gape when we emerge on the other side. The campsite is breathtaking. The air is so thick with incense, I’m transported to a grove of lemon trees every time I inhale. In the center of the tents, dozens of Shoniin dance around a roaring bonfire with flames that glow sapphire instead of yellow. Some laugh and drink vorkhi, while others fly above us on zip lines, weaving through hundreds of floating lanterns suspended on invisible strings.
It’s an explosion of color and chaos that feels more like a dream than reality.
And it makes me even more furious. This is the home of the Lady of the Sky. I should be running through this glorious encampment with my arms outstretched in ecstasy. Ever since I was young, I’ve dreamed of visiting the land of the First Gods. But now I’m here and it’s tainted by Temujin’s ultimatum.
“You know, you can enjoy this place even if you’re mad at me,” Temujin says. He at least tries to sound slightly apologetic. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone.”
We approach the bonfire, and the din of conversation stops abruptly. A multitude of curious eyes squint and stare.
“Enebish!” Inkar leaps from her stool and darts through the group. “You came! When did you arrive?” Her step falters as she gets closer, and her hand flies to her mouth at the sight of my ashen face and bloodstained tunic. “Bleeding skies, what happened?”
I swallow and self-consciously smooth the fabric. “I … um …” I doubt they’ll embrace me with open arms if they knew I was meeting with the commander of the Kalima warriors. Though judging from their skeptical, and a few outright hostile, faces, I don’t think they feel welcoming either way.
Temujin finally has the decency to break the prickling silence. “This is Enebish. Our newest recruit. She was attacked for withholding information about us. She’s precisely the kind of warrior we need.”
Inkar proudly links her arm through mine, but the others continue staring. I try to stand tall and meet each of their eyes, but my chest instinctively caves inward.
Temujin goes around the circle and rattles off names, but I don’t remember any of them, aside from Inkar’s brother, Chanar, and the Bone Reader, Borte, who looks surprisingly younger in the strange blue glow of the bonfire. In fact, her face is completely free of wrinkles. She can’t be much older than I am. “You—how did you do that?” I stammer.
“Makeup.” She holds out her hands, which are streaked brown and white. “No one would pay to consult a young bone reader.”
My brow crinkles even further as my gaze sweeps around the circle again, taking in each face. Temujin claimed his followers were scarred and downtrodden like me, but they appear to be the picture of health. I shoot him an accusatory scowl.
“Not all wounds can be seen,” he reminds me.
“Like my and Chanar’s,” Inkar chimes in. “And Oyunna is a courtesan in the Sky Palace.” Inkar motions to a girl sitting in the center of the group. She’s unusually tall, and her raven hair spills across her freckled shoulders. Something inside me stills at Inkar’s words. Oyunna is a courtesan. Not was.
“She works there still?” I blurt.
Oyunna pins me in place with searing, kohl-lined eyes. “Someone must gather information from the high court. Who do you think sent word to Temujin that the zurig was being wheeled out during the Qusbegi Festival? You didn’t think it was a coincidence he rescued you so quickly, did you?”
Oyunna says all of this with cool nonchalance, as if her task is no different than polishing floors or grooming horses. But her eyes are backlit with fire, and her heart-shaped lips curl into a snarl. “I may provide the Sky King’s pleasure now, but someday it will be my pleasure to chop his manhood from between his legs.”
The group roars with laughter, and I find myself laughing too. The knot in my chest unwinds a fraction.
“I have some business to attend to in Ashkar.” Temujin throws me a meaningful look. “Who wants to take care of Enebish while I’m gone?”
Inkar is the only one who raises her hand, since take care of Enebish clearly means babysit. “She can stay with me and Chanar.”
Her brother groans from across the fire. “You can’t just volunteer our tent.”
“Technically, I’m your older sister, which makes me head of the family, so, yes, I can.”
“You’re three minutes older!”
Inkar smiles brightly at him. “And three minutes wiser.” She turns to me. “Don’t mind him. He just takes a while to warm up.”
“That seems to be the case with everyone,” I mutter as the other Shoniin resume whispering and throwing cagey glances at me.
Inkar waves a dismissive hand at the group. “This is how it always is with new recruits. You’d think they’d be kinder, since they’ve all been in your shoes, but it seems to be a rite of passage to intimidate the newest members.”
“Especially when that newest member is Kalima trash,” a boy with muddy-brown hair calls.
“We don’t take kindly to spies,” another girl hisses.
I nearly snap back at her, but I press my lips together because, technically, I am a spy—or was.
“Quit being so paranoid,” Inkar chides. “More than half of you were imperial warriors.” She plunks down on a log next to the crackling blue bonfire and pats the space beside her.
I step back instead of forward. “I’m so exhausted. Perhaps I’ll just head to bed….” I would rather return to my freezing lean-to than wade farther into this den of vipers.
“You think we’re going to let you poke around our tents unsupervised?” Oyunna stands and prowls toward me. “Take a seat, Enebish. The fun is just beginning.” She fists the back of my tunic and tugs me down between her and Inkar.
There’s a long moment of silence. My traitor’s mark tingles as the Shoniin inspect it from every angle.
“No sense wasting time.” Oyunna turns to me with a clap. “I have lots of questions about that frigid harpy you call a sister. And the Kalima.”
“Oyunna!” Inkar reaches around me and smacks the back of Oyunna’s head.
“What?”
Inkar hits Oyunna again, sending her cascade of black hair flying. “Now isn’t the time to interrogate the poor girl. She just arrived. And she’s been through hell today. She needs friends.”
“Well, she came to the wrong place for that.”
“Ignore her, Enebish,” Inkar says to me. “Oyunna isn’t always so insensitive and insufferable.”
This brings an unbidden smile to my lips. I actually prefer how Oyunna came straight out and asked about my past, rather than stare and make assumptions like the rest of them. She is bold. Confident. In a way, she reminds me of Ghoa—the Ghoa I knew before Chinua died. The Ghoa I loved and looked up to. The Ghoa who’s still in there, buried beneath a mountain of pressure.
I want to reach across the realms and shake her. Shout at her. And then weep like a child in her arms.
This isn’t us. I know she didn’t mean to hit Orbai.
But she did.
And now I’m here—for better or worse.
“Fine.” Oyunna pours a hot cup of vorkhi from a teapot on the fire and takes a dainty sip. “Let’s be friends. What shall we discuss? I can tell you anything you’d like to know about life inside the Sky Palace. Or the latest gossip in Sagaan.” Her voice is false and sugary sweet.
“Or Enebish could tell us something about herself.” Inkar casts me an encouraging glance.
“I think you know the highlights,” I mumble.
Inkar gives a terse shake of her head. “Nariin is not a highlight. And it’s hardly all you are. Tell us something real. Something no one else knows.”
Keep quiet, my mind screams. This is how they worm their way beneath your defenses. But I’m so tired of feeling alone and disconnected from the rest of the world. And if I’m stuck here, I might as well do some probing of my own. And, despite our many differences, there’s one thing we all have in common….
“I’ve kept my mother’s prayer doll and Book of Whisperings hidden at Ikh Zuree for the past two years,” I admit. “And I’ve used them.”
“Bold,” Oyunna says with an appreciative nod.
“I also attempted to open a gateway to the Eternal Blue at the start of this journey.”
Inkar and Oyunna exchange a look and then erupt with laughter. “We’ve both done the same thing!” Oyunna says. “When I first entered the king’s service, I scoured every corner of the Sky Palace for old, sacred relics, hoping they might open the gateway.”
“And I prayed to every slimy stone in Gazar, foolishly convinced they’d been part of a sacred mound,” Inkar says.
After that, the conversation flows more freely. Not easily, but enough to make the bonfire tolerable—especially after we’ve all downed a few shots of vorkhi. Eventually rations are passed around, and I raise my eyebrows at the same burlap sacks that are delivered to the shepherds. The Shoniin could be feasting like kings in this realm and no one in Ashkar would be the wiser. But they’re not.
Unsurprisingly, Orbai returns from harassing the hoopoes as soon as I rip open my sack. She lands at my feet and nibbles the edge of my tunic until I relent and give her a strip of jerky.
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