She knelt on the hard stones, feeling them digging into her knees and feet. Something cold and heavy lay across her outstretched arms, and something cold and wet dripped from her mouth. She looked down and saw the soft, gelatinous flesh of a dead marid in her hands and spread across the shore beside her. It tasted of metallic vomit, squishing and oozing in her mouth and down her throat. She tried to spit it out, to throw it up, but instead the cold demon flesh just wriggled deeper inside her.
Gagging, she fell backward on the pebbled beach.
The stars vanished. She stared up at the ceiling, confused by the blending of stone, wood, and thatch. The air hung hot and stale around her, with no breeze to caress her skin. There was a voice nearby, a quiet voice babbling in Dzenbayan. She started to turn and look, but then stopped. She recognized the room, the cell. She recognized the voice of the girl, her own voice. The babble was incoherent, repetitive, plaintive, desperate, begging for help, crying out for her mother.
Veneka lurched up, awake, gasping, sobbing. The cold claws of the nightmare released her, and the fear vanished, and she fell quiet and calm in just a few breaths. She wiped the tears from her eyes and sighed. It was still dark in the tent, and Iyasu snored softly a few paces away. Azrael snored a bit louder.
With a shiver, Veneka lay back down and turned to see Zerai watching her. “I woke you.”
“Yeah. A little more kicking and punching than usual.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s all right. I understand.”
She nodded. He did understand, more or less. His own nightmares could be just as violent, but they were far fewer, and they’d been less and less frequent over the years. She tried to remember the last time he had had one. A year ago?
“It’ll go away eventually,” he said. “Just give it more time.”
“I know.” She swallowed. “Did I hurt you?”
“I’ll heal, one way or another.” He smiled.
She tried to smile back. “It’s a good thing no one else was nearby.”
“Who? Iyasu?” Zerai raised his head a little to look at the seer, but then looked down at her. “Are you… Wait, what do you mean?”
“Nothing. Go back to sleep.”
“No, I want to talk about this.”
“Now?”
“Well, we can wait until after Darius kills us all, but I’d prefer now, yes.”
Veneka wiped her eyes again. Her whole body felt a bit sore and tired. “I meant what I said. I am glad no one was nearby to get hurt. I know sleeping near me can be risky.”
He paused. “Are you worried you would hurt our baby?”
She inhaled and braced herself. “Of course I am.”
“Oh, honey, no, you don’t need to worry about that. We can make a little bed next to ours. The baby doesn’t need to sleep right here between us. That’s nothing, that’s easy. Nothing to worry about. Is that what you’ve been worrying about this whole time?”
She wiped her eyes again, even though they were dry. She needed something to do with her hands. “It is not just that.”
“Then what?”
“Everything.”
“Everything what?”
“I…” She had imagined this conversation a hundred times, but now she couldn’t remember any of the ways she had tried to explain how she felt to Zerai in her head. “I do not remember my parents.”
He shrugged. “I never knew my parents.”
“I know. But… My earliest memory is that cell where they put me after I was possessed. All I remember is that cell, and then wandering in the forest, and then living on the island. It is all vague and horrible, but that is all I remember before I met you, before you and Iyasu saved me.”
“Hey, we just made you go for a long walk. You saved yourself, and Raziel along with you. That was all you.”
She smiled a little. “My point is that I know nothing about babies.”
“Neither do I, not really. But we have a dozen friends in Naj Kuvari who will help with that. And one of those friends has six wings and used to spend his evenings chatting with God, so I think we’re in good hands.”
“No, I mean…” She sighed and looked away.
“What? Tell me.”
“I have seen the families in the city. I have spent time with the mothers and their children, and when I go on my journeys I meet all sorts of families from different countries. And it always feels strange to me. Holding children, talking to them. I can never see myself like them.”
Zerai sat up beside her. “Are you saying you don’t want to have a baby at all?”
“No, not exactly. I do, I think. But what kind of mother am I going to be? I spent most of my life completely insane, alone. Even back home, sometimes I feel that I do not belong there, around people, in houses, talking.”
“You’ve never said anything about that before.”
“I know.”
“I don’t see it.”
“What?”
“I don’t see it,” he said. “Back home, you always seem perfectly at home with everyone. Is that an act?”
“I… I do not know. I think not. But I feel… like a fraud.”
“What?”
“I feel like I am just pretending to be normal, and that sooner or later someone is going to point it out, that I do not belong, that I am doing everything wrong, talking wrong, acting wrong.” Her voice wavered and she looked away.
He cupped her cheeks in his hands and gently steered her back to look at him. “You’re not a fake, and no one is going to call you one. You’re fine. You’re normal. I love you, and so does everyone else.”
“But…”
“Wait, just listen, please.” He cleared his throat. “I grew up in a gutter with a bunch of orphans, and then we went to live in the hills where we were hunted by demons and soldiers. I watched everyone I ever knew or loved get killed, one by one, year after year. You think I know what a normal life is supposed to look like? Because I don’t, not really. But lots of other people seem to know, and I spend a lot of time copying them. Not to be fake, but to learn. That’s all. We’re learning. We’re learning the things that everyone else learned as kids. We’re just a little slow.”
She stifled a laugh. “We are slow?”
“Well, not when it comes to divine healing or hunting monsters. But the home things, the family things, yes, we’re slow. But we’re learning. And when we have a baby, we’ll learn some more. Probably a lot more. I hear there’s poop. Horrible slimy black poop.”
“Yes, I have seen the black poop.”
“There you go. We’ve already learned something!”
She laughed again. “You really think that is all it is? We are slow?”
“Maybe not slow. Just behind. But I’m not worried. All sorts of idiots have children, and lots of them do just fine.”
She laughed and punched him, and then kissed him. “All right then.”
“Okay?”
“Yes, okay.”
They lay back down and pulled each other close.
“I wish you had said something earlier,” he murmured.
“Me too.”
When morning came, Veneka rose with a smile and went out into the city to heal the sick and injured with a soft tune on her lips.
Chapter 23
Samira
As the sun rose, the djinn Tevadim paused on a rocky promontory to study the vast deserts ruled by the Vaari caravans and the Daraji nomads. All night long she had raced across the dunes and over the crumbling red mountains in search of tracks, or caves, or any other sign or refuge for a lone woman in the wild, but in the darkness she had found nothing.
She’s not a child. And she’s not my responsibility.
Samira lingered a moment longer to let the sun rise a bit more, and then she dashed away again. Her feet whisked over the soft sand and the jagged stone with equal ease, and the cool morning air wafted gently around her, even when she moved so fast the world threatened to melt into a vague blur.
She paused at a black mark on the ground, a sooty scar on a rock ledge sheltered from the wind. But the ash was too cold. She ran on.
Spiny lizards hissed at her. Large-eared foxes yipped at her. The only animals that made her pause were a small family of elephants slowly marching through a gully lined with small green shrubs as they followed a dark muddy line in the earth to some ancient watering hole.
Petra, you ignorant child. Trying to win at the game of life, of creation.
She watched the dark giants stride across the sandy ground, calm and unafraid, untroubled by the woman, heedless of predators, in need of no prey. Their massive tusks shone brightly in the early morning light and the gray sails of their ears wafted back and forth as they thrust the biting insects away. Small birds perched on their backs, quietly riding across the desert. She ran on.
She wove through the dunes, leaping lightly through the depressions, leaving no grain of sand unseen. She circled great spires of ancient rock, her gaze raking the shadows and ledges and cracks.
Still no signs.
The sun crept a little higher and the air grew a little warmer. The desert breathed in new colors, bleeding orange and pink and gold and red where only black had ruled throughout the night. Again she paused on the crest of a tall dune to survey the sandy wastes, and she sighted yet another stone tower on the horizon. She ran to it.
The moment she arrived her eyes fell on the dark red speckles at the edge of the rock where it emerged from the sand. The blood still glistened wetly. Samira paused to breathe and focus on the living stone beside her, ready to command it to flow and shift should she need a shield, or a weapon. And then she began to climb.
She was only a third of the way up the crooked tower of stone when a voice said from around the next corner, “You’re late.”
“It’s a big desert.” Samira stepped out onto the next ledge and looked down.
Her sister sat against the rock wall, half-curled up, leaning her head to one side. The small pool of blood around her slowly grew wider across the dry ground. “Not big enough.”
“You hurt yourself?”
“Yes.”
“Intentionally?”
“Yes.”
Samira sighed. “This is the clerical selection all over again. You screamed that you would kill yourself if I went to Shivala instead of you.”
“And you walked right out the door.”
“Yes, I did.”
“You didn’t even hesitate.”
“I knew you wouldn’t do it.”
“Yes, well…” Petra lifted her arm to display the red-black sheen on her abdomen.
“That looks painful.”
“It is.”
“Veneka will have you whole and healthy by the end of the hour. Can you walk, or do I need to carry you?”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Don’t be stupid. At least don’t be any more stupid than you’re already being.”
“I lost the baby.”
Samira blinked. “Is this really about the baby?”
“Of course it is.”
“All right then. Can I see it?”
“I left it in Jerinoba.”
“It?”
“Yes.”
“Was it a girl?”
“I don’t know. Does it matter?”
“Mm.” Samira sighed and turned away. “You’re a despicable person, Petra.”
“I love you, too.”
“Well, I’m not going to let you die here. I’m going to drag your sad, miserable carcass back to the city, and Veneka will heal you, and you can go right back to spitting in God’s eye. How does that sound?”
“Oh, please don’t. I don’t want to miss the show.”
“What show?”
“Out there. The show.”
Samira frowned and turned to look out at the desert. As she scanned to the east, she saw a dark line of a shadow stretching along the border for miles where the rocky landscape of the Pillars of Abari met the soft, shifting sands of the east.
“My wall?”
“The southern end.”
She followed the shadow south until it ended abruptly, and then began again. “There’s a hole in my wall.”
“Indeed there is.”
“Darius has broken through.”
“Oh, you are a clever girl, aren’t you?”
Samira scanned westward, but the jagged spires of the Pillars obscured the rocky plateau as well as any forest. Aside from a few vague dust clouds, there was no sign of the army. “Wherever they are, they’ll reach Jerinoba before sunset.”
“And everyone will die, including your precious clerics.”
“No, I can stop them.”
“You can’t stop an army.”
“I can.”
“You tried. You failed.” Petra sniffed and groaned. “If I had made that wall, they never would have breached it. You still don’t understand the first thing about design, about strength and shape.”
“I would have loved to learn, if only you had bothered to teach me instead of spending all your time trying to get a human to impregnate you.”
Petra sighed. “Everyone needs a hobby.”
Samira turned and knelt to scoop up her sister, but Petra brandished a small knife at her. She backed away. “You’re going to kill me too?”
“I don’t care whether you live. I just want you to let me die.” She placed the tip of the knife against the small of her throat. “I’m done. I’m tired of this stupid world. I deserved to go to Shivala, not you, but I didn’t get what I deserved. And I deserved to birth that child, but I didn’t get that either. I never asked for any help, never cheated, never took shortcuts. I did the work. I deserved my rewards. But your God is a hateful, selfish thing.”
Samira glanced at the rock wall behind Petra, wondering how hard it would be to have a small, blunt stone strike her sister in the head and render her unconscious. And silent.
Petra pushed the knife harder against her throat. “Don’t do it. I will kill myself.”
“If you were going to, you would have already.”
“I told you, I want to watch the show first. I want to watch your little friends burn. They all worked so hard to save Tagal. They made it all the way to the palace, even put Darius in prison and a new king on the throne. And they still lost.”
Samira frowned.
“They still lost.”
Samira looked down at the Pillars again, searching for the army.
“You know what that tells me? That God isn’t good, and there is no free will. God is cruel and selfish and stupid, and we’re all just puppets for him to punish and abuse. So the wicked rule, and the righteous suffer, and die.”
Samira shook her head.
Is this really happening? Again? Thousands of lives hang in the balance, including the lives of Raziel’s cleric and the seer. The Angel of Death must still be brought to Naj Kuvari to answer for her actions, somehow. And here I am, dealing with Petra. Again.
“There is no meaning to this life or this world,” Petra continued. “It’s all just theater for a cosmic sadist.”
“I sincerely doubt it.” Samira inhaled and, without turning to look, she summoned a lump of rock to lurch out from the wall and knock Petra’s head back from the knife while a second stone hand reached for the djinn woman’s wrist to control the weapon. But when she turned to look, she saw her stone limbs standing stiffly in the empty air and Petra lay flat on the ground with the knife buried deep in her throat.
Samira dropped to her knees, yanked out the knife, and pressed her hand against the wound, but the blood had already stopped flowing.
Quickly to life and quickly to death.
She hovered over her sister with shaking, bloody hands for a moment, and then slowly sat down and closed her eyes.
I’m sorry, Petra. I wish… I wish it had been different. I’m sorry.
She opened her eyes and saw the blank-eyed face of her little sister staring blindly at the pale
blue desert sky. Flecks of blood dotted her dark skin. Her black hair lay in snaking, ragged lines wherever it had fallen when she dodged away from the stone hand.
With a labored sigh, Samira reached out to wrap her sister in her dress and then picked her up, but then she paused and set her down again. She moved the body back into the crevice where she had first found her sitting, and then with a small gesture, she closed the rock walls in around the body in a perfectly sealed tomb. Then she let her hand glide across the rock face once, and she left.
She wanted to stop and sit, to think, to remember her sister. But there was no time. There were duties to fulfill.
Dashing over the rocky plateau, it only took her a few minutes to reach the distant Pillars of Abari and then only a few moments more to locate the army of Tagal. She silently flitted from pillar to arch to pillar, counting soldiers and horses and the heavy scorpios rattling along behind the oxen, and then she was gone before anyone knew she was there.
Back across the hard stone road, she raced to Jerinoba.
Petra… you could have had anything, any life. An artist, a teacher, a lover… a real lover. While I was sitting on a mountain with Tevad, year after year, listening to sermons and parables, you could have been building so much, doing so much…
If only you could have understood, but then, maybe you couldn’t. Maybe the rage and the self-pity were just in your blood. Maybe there was nothing anyone could have done to help you.
God knows, there was nothing I could do.
I saved you twice. I thought I did it for you, but maybe I did it for me.
And today… today it was finally for you.
Find peace, Petra.
When she reached Chaggar’s Well, the djinn cleric flashed along the path that spiraled down to the lake and she didn’t stop running until she reached the tents at the edge of the city. Four were empty, and in the fifth she found only an unfamiliar woman sleeping on the ground as one of the prince’s maids sat dozing in the corner.
Where is everyone?
War of the Magi: Azrael's Wrath (Book 2) Page 26