... to turn into Jagged Liang, who hunted the assassin children of her lover. Jia could not forgive her, even if she asked.
"We should talk to her," the Broken Man said. "Now that she's seen you…"
Jia checked a sigh as understanding dawned. He's loyal to Liang first, me second, the Tenth third, but he wants to keep all of us…
"We will never be a family," she said. "Understand? She won't stop just because you love her. This ends with her death or the streets red with our blood, and you know it."
"She's your mother," he said.
"No," Jia said, dropping to her haunches at the edge of the roof. "She's your lover. I'm an orphan."
And she climbed down, leaving him standing alone on the tower, surrounded by the dead.
"Shadows disappear in daylight. Holes can be searched. Hide in plain sight, and you will never be found." —Book of Zei
Hours later, Jia sat high atop Tong-Shi's temple again, with her back to Zei's frieze and her feet dangling in open air. Dawn was close. The Council Stronghold glittered with lantern light like a necklace at the throat of the dark Guozhi Mountains. The chimneys of the Buried Forge burned a deep crimson.
She wanted to leave. The Tenth was her family, but her brothers and sisters were—mostly—not children. They enjoyed this life, this constant battle. And she, when it came down to it, did not.
Jia knew she would die fighting a senseless war for the love of her family and the foolish loyalty she still felt for her father. She wanted to leave, but duty would keep her here.
"Hello, Granddaughter," Covetous Shen said, plopping down on the ledge beside her.
"Why did you do it?" Jia said.
"A child should know who her parents are," Shen said, swinging his feet in space. "How else can she know what not to become?"
"More jokes," Jia said, turning away.
"Am I joking?" Shen said sharply. "Your mother wants to rule this city unopposed, and takes steps to eradicate all of the Great Families. Your father knows that she will not stop at nine. Soon, their doomed love will not be enough, and this country will endure yet another civil war. Be wiser than they, Granddaughter."
Jia stared. The easy smiles were gone. In their place was more sorrow than a hundred lifetimes could bear.
"Should I also know who my grandfather is?" she said finally. Shen turned to consider the frieze of laughing Zei fleeing the wrath of the gods. In profile, both faces were exactly the same.
"What a handsome young man," Covetous Shen said, smiling slightly.
"What should I do?" Jia said after a moment's silence told her that Shen wasn't going to say anything else. "Try to make peace between my mother and father? Run and hide?"
"Do whatever you want," he said, brushing her cheek. "Life can be so very short."
"For mortals, you mean."
Shen said nothing at first.
"Look at all of this." He swept a hand across Zhou. "Once, it was grassland spotted with small tribes. There were flowers.
"Then the world changed. People told stories and watched the skies for directions from beings more powerful than themselves. The stories became laws and obligations, and the tribes grew and fought each other. They believed that they had no choice. And they waited for omens."
He casually pointed at the sky. A burning comet, a molten ball of twisting fire and trailing ash, exploded through the heavens. Cold with awe, Jia turned to Covetous Shen.
"That wasn't me," he said, eyes wide.
She laughed.
"Listen to me," he said, watching the star pass over their heads, falling southwest toward the distant lands beyond the island of Xiansai. "You have your father's heart and your mother's rage. I knew it from the moment I saw him carrying you home for the first time. I asked to hold you, of course. You pulled my beard most fiercely."
At last, Jia remembered: her tiny fingers tangled in his wispy beard ablaze with moonlight. She should have been too young to recall that night, but the memory was hers all the same.
"Now," Shen said, "you are a child of the Tenth Family, and my granddaughter. But you are not bound by our decisions, and not a soldier in our battles."
He took her chin gently and looked at her.
"No matter what anyone tells you, you are free," he said.
In the light of the falling star, Shen seemed immensely tired, incredibly old. She knew without asking that he would follow it. It meant something to him.
It meant nothing to her.
For a long time, they sat in companionable silence. Then Shen sniffed.
"Is that salted pepperfish?" he demanded, standing.
Jia raised her eyebrows.
"You'd better go see," she said. "They might run out."
"You are right," Shen said, nodding urgently. "Hold this for me. I am certain we will find each other again."
He dropped one of his innumerable pouches in her lap, pressed his lips to the crown of her head, and skidded down the temple's gutters in pursuit of the incredible smell.
Jia looked inside the bulging purse. On top of a number of flawless diamonds was a cracked and blackened gem. It was, Jia realized, a type of protective jewel, one meant to deflect magical attacks. Like the kind Uncle Hao had leveled at Shen earlier in the evening.
She waited until dawn burned on the horizon, and she rose, stretching her legs and tucking the pouch into her armor. She could return to the Shifting Estate for breakfast. She could apologize to her father. Or she could find passage on a ship and see lands she'd only read about.
She could go anywhere.
The end of her journey
Gauntleted hands shoved open the inn's front doors with a bang. Swirling ribbons of sand flowed into the common room. Reiter's broom went still. He stared. In the fading twilight, all the boy could see was a silhouette standing in the doorway.
For a long moment, only the unending drone of the sandstorm broke the silence.
The figure stepped forward. Heavy armor rattled. A white tunic spilled down his chestplate, bearing a strange symbol. But it was the weapon that held Reiter's eyes. A short length of black chain connected a handle with an evil-looking spiked weight. The man even carried a massive shield. It was taller than Reiter. The armor shook the inn's wooden floor with each step. The figure's head, encased in a thick helm, turned to look at the boy.
Reiter was too terrified to run. So he just stared. And waited.
The man raised a hand to his helm and removed it. Flowing brown hair fell to his shoulders—her shoulders. Reiter's mouth dropped open in shock. That's a woman! He had never seen such detailed, frightening battle armor in his life, not even among the elite merchant guards that passed through town, and those crews were always men. At least, that was what Reiter assumed. He hadn't actually met that many.
The woman coughed, and sand tumbled free from her armor. Had she been walking around in this sandstorm? Insanity. She turned her eyes toward Reiter and smiled. It was a gentle, kind expression. "Let me guess," she said. "You're the son of the innkeeper?"
Reiter swallowed and nodded. "Father?" he called, not looking away from her.
A grunt echoed from the inn's second floor. "Ya, boy? Yeh done sweeping?"
"We have a guest."
"Not'n this weather, we don't," he said, coming down the stairs. "What're you—oh." His gutter accent vanished in an instant, replaced with warm speech, the language he saved for guests. "My apologies, good sir—madam, I mean. I wasn't expecting any new arrivals. Not with this storm, anyway." His charming act was spoiled a bit by his nervous glances toward the woman's armor. "Welcome to the Oasis Inn. Are you two looking for a room?"
Two? Reiter shifted his gaze. He hadn't even noticed the woman's companion, a girl wearing simple clothes. She was younger. About Reiter's age, in fact. The lack of armor seemed to have left her a touch windblasted, though. Specks of sand clung to her hair. Reiter decided he could overlook that.
The woman gently rested her shield on the floor. "I hear you have a fondnes
s for books and that you lend them out to your patrons. Is that true?"
Books? These two had trudged through a sandstorm for books?
"You heard true, madam," his father said. "Some say my inn has the finest library in Kehjistan. Outside of Caldeum itself, of course."
She smiled. "In that case, we would like to board here," she said. "On one condition: you don't need to call me madam. My name is Anajinn."
"Of course, ma—Anajinn! Plenty of room at the Oasis Inn today." Reiter's father spread his arms warmly. "Not too many people as brave as you two, to be traveling in this weather."
The second new arrival laughed. "Brave. Sure. Getting caught in a sandstorm. I can already hear the poets rushing to compose sonnets of our courage." Reiter smiled at her. She met his gaze and, after a moment, gave him a polite smile back.
The armored woman grinned. "Perhaps we were taken a bit by surprise. Perhaps we would have been here a few days earlier if a certain apprentice could keep up."
"Perhaps a certain apprentice wasn't the one who wanted to explore every cavern in the desert," the apprentice said.
"Perhaps." Anajinn removed one of her gauntlets and upended it. A small waterfall of sand cascaded to the wooden floor. Reiter frowned. He was going to have to sweep that up. "We managed to be productive, in any case," Anajinn added in a wry tone.
The innkeeper cocked his head, but no further explanation was forthcoming. "Well, I'm sure you two must be thirsty, and the Oasis Inn always has plenty of cool water stored," Reiter's father said. "Reiter? Can you bring two cups for our guests?" He paused, looking at the boy. "Reiter?" He snapped his fingers sharply.
Reiter jolted upright, pulling his gaze away from the apprentice. "Water. Yes, Father." He grabbed two cups and opened the hinged door on the floor, lowering dippers into the water casks.
He was glad to be hidden behind the counter for the moment. The armored woman's companion... Reiter struggled to keep a grin suppressed. The apprentice had lighter, almost blond hair, longer than her master's, and her eyes were radiant. The way her chin curved elegantly to her neck... She had even given him a smile. A cool smile, but a smile nonetheless.
She likes me, Reiter thought.
Reiter handed the two women their cups. They both downed their contents in single gulps. He watched the younger guest. She gave him a questioning glance. He looked away.
"Follow me upstairs, and I'll show you to your room," Reiter's father said.
"Actually, I'd like to see the library now," Anajinn said. "Do you have any books discussing the city of Ureh?"
In short order, the woman had shed her armor and followed Reiter's father to the library, while her apprentice stayed in the common room. "Can you spare a cloth and a small bowl of water? I might as well start cleaning," she said.
"Sure," Reiter said. He collected the items from behind the bar.
The apprentice called out, "On second thought, don't mind the cloth. I'll use a bit of my shirt."
"It's no problem. We have plenty."
"You won't get the cloth back. You won't want it back. I'll have to burn it when I'm done," the apprentice said.
"That's fine," Reiter said, returning with the bowl and the cloth. He gave her his most winning smile, the kind that made the daughter of the trade goods storekeeper down the road bat her eyelashes at him—Bea was her name. Reiter put the local girl out of his mind. "We have plenty."
"Thank you," the apprentice said. She had an odd cleaning technique. She dipped a couple fingers into the bowl and let only a few drops wet the fabric. She began scrubbing the chestplate, a thick slab of metal with intricate etchings and workings.
Reiter sat down next to her. "Need help?"
"No, thank you."
The boy nodded and leaned over. "What do those symbols mean? They look like Zakarum markings."
"They are."
Reiter was impressed. "Really? Your master is a paladin? I've seen lots of paladins come through town before. She's a lot prettier than most paladins." And then, feeling that the time was right, he added, "So are you."
She gave him another cool smile. "Anajinn is not a paladin."
Reiter nodded again. He didn't really care. "Staying in town long?" he asked.
The apprentice kept the cloth moving in tight circles on the armor. "Probably not. Up to her. Maybe a few days, at most." She scowled at a stubborn stain and splashed more drops of water on the cloth. Gingerly, she pressed the damp rag against the armor. After a moment, she seemed satisfied and renewed her scrubbing.
"I heard her say she's looking for Ureh. Is she a treasure hunter? We get all kinds of treasure hunters here," Reiter said. He carefully leaned back in his chair, slouching a bit, trying to appear relaxed and confident.
She considered him. "Treasure hunter? I've never thought of it that way before. The term almost fits." With one last look at Reiter—and his posture—she went back to work, shaking her head.
"My name is Reiter. What's yours?" he asked. She smiled but said nothing. He waited. The silence lengthened. Fine. Her name wasn't really important anyway. "If she's not a paladin, what is she?"
"A crusader," she said.
"Oh, right. A crusader. I knew that," Reiter said. She gave him a sideways glance. Reiter's smile slipped. She seemed to know he was lying.
Another period of quiet. Reiter fidgeted.
Still, she was talking to him. That was the first step, right?
A month ago, a group of guards had hired rooms in the inn and spent most of their time swilling the cheapest drinks they could find. Reiter had enjoyed their company. One of them, a swarthy, sweaty man with a stained tunic and patches of rosacea spattered amid his thinning hair, had taken it upon himself to teach Reiter "the ways of the world." Most of the conversation had focused on how to get "any little pretty"—his words—to agree to a night of companionship.
Get a girl to talk with you, and she's interested. Get her to smile, and you're halfway there, the guard had told him in loud, drunken whispers. His cloying breath had seemed to take up residence in Reiter's nose. Make her think you have a lot in common, keep her smiling, and you win. If she stops smiling, change the subject. Compliment her. Reiter had been amazed it could be so easy.
"What's your name?" Reiter asked the apprentice again. No response. "Do you do a lot of cleaning for your master? My father makes me clean all the time." Still no reply. Reiter continued. "My father always tells me that we need to have the cleanest inn in Caldeum's Rest."
"Interesting," she said. She scraped at another troublesome stain with her fingernail, then jerked her hand away as though it had been burned, muttering to herself. She pushed down hard on that spot with a dry section of the cloth.
Reiter watched her closely. She wasn't smiling anymore. He changed the subject. "If you've been walking around for a while, you could probably use a hot bath. We have plenty of tubs in the back, and I can heat some water for you. If you'd like."
"Maybe later," she said.
"It would be no trouble," he insisted, and then said, casually, "I wouldn't even mind joining you."
The apprentice set down the cloth and fixed Reiter with a glare. "Excuse me?" she said.
Reiter felt heat rush into his face. Desperately he racked his brain for an explanation. "Oh, I'm so sorry! I forgot some people don't consider that modest. It's not unusual here in the desert. Helps to have someone else help clean the sand out of hard-to-reach places." It only made things worse. The silence, once again, stretched...
"Here," he said, suddenly reaching for the cloth. "Let me help with that." He quickly dipped it into the water. His hand brushed her hair, and he felt a thrill run up his arm. Without hesitation, he placed the rag against the armor and began scrubbing.
The apprentice gasped. "Wait—"
When Reiter touched the wet cloth to the stain, everything seemed to happen at once. The apprentice yelled. The bowl of water flipped. The table underneath the bowl flipped. Smoke, vile smoke, smelling of sulfur and festerin
g blood, filled the air. Reiter screamed and tumbled out of his chair. The apprentice took the chestplate and flung it out the door in one smooth motion. It arced over the balcony, into the sandstorm.
Just before Reiter landed on the floor, he saw a ball of green flame rapidly expanding over the chestplate, disappearing in a flash. Just after Reiter landed on the floor, the table fell on top of him, pinning him down, knocking the wind out of him.
Yelling, crying, Reiter struggled to push the table away. Strong arms pulled the weight off his chest. Anajinn, the crusader, stared down at him with concern.
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