“Didn’t you hear me?” the guard said, frowning at him. He wore copper-studded cuffs and held a curved sword at his side. “I said, you can’t come in here. Wind caste aren’t allowed in the Inner City without a permit.”
“But . . .” Emil pointed his thumb at Rajo, who was now almost out of sight. “That man there, you let him through.”
The guard laughed, showing crooked and stained teeth. “And when you get yourself a work permit signed by a noble house, you can come through too. Until then, be off with you.”
“Noble house?” Emil’s head snapped up. “What noble house?”
“What business is it of yours?” the guard said. “Now go away before you ruin my good mood and I throw you into the canal.”
Emil retreated until he was off the bridge. His head was spinning. If Rajo had a permit signed by a noble, did that mean he was living in the Flower Circle? And was Stefan with him?
And without a work permit of his own, how could Emil ever find out?
His thoughts were interrupted in their frantic circle by a clinking, clattering sound. He looked up just in time to see a tea seller walked by.
“Hot spiced tea,” the tea seller called, pushing the heavy cart. His head scarf sagged over his forehead, and he looked no older than Emil. “Hot spiced tea for sale.”
An idea bloomed, fully formed, in Emil’s mind. A way for him to stay in the city and get access to the Flower Circle.
But he was going to need some help.
MARA AND SUDEV had played three games of goat and tiger and two rounds of the hiding game before Garen arrived to take the princes to their combat lessons.
Where do they train? Mara sent as she watched Paithal pack up the game he and Revathi had been playing. Sudev was watching too, she noticed, his eyes fixed on his older brother adoringly.
The princes take lessons with the warrior monks in the Jade Circle. It’s a privilege accorded only to the royal family, Garen sent.
The Jade Circle? Mara felt a small fissure of excitement run through her. Surely in the Jade Circle she could find a worthy charge. Where?
Time had not made Garen appear less massive, but his smile was friendly. Would you like to come and see?
Mara hesitated, but the idea of possibly starting her long-awaited search was too alluring.
Yes, please, she sent. Let me check with Revathi first, though.
“Revathi,” Mara spoke out loud, and the girl turned. “May I have a free afternoon to visit the Jade Circle? I’d like to start looking for my charge.”
Revathi blinked. “Oh,” she said. “Of course. Take all the time you like.”
“Will you be all right?” Mara asked.
“Don’t worry about me.” Revathi waved a hand. “I have a lot to do getting ready for the dinner tonight. Go on. Have fun.”
Mara darted after Garen, her steps light.
How many warrior monks are there? she sent as they walked. She liked being able to talk to Garen this way, knowing no one else could overhear her. Only another Sune would be able to hear their conversation. Mara couldn’t say why that comforted her, only that it did.
Not many, Garen sent back. He smiled down at her. A few groups of them here, some in Deshe, and some in Aranya, the fortress city to the north. Once they pass their final test, Jade warriors are forbidden to leave their enclaves unless directly ordered by the Emperor. They spend their whole lives behind those walls.
Mara wrinkled her nose. Those three years in the Order had been confining enough; she couldn’t imagine shutting herself away for the rest of her life. Her thoughts were interrupted by Sudev’s squeal.
“Father!” He darted forward, throwing his arms around the leg of a worn-faced man in silver and blue who had just turned the corner with Lady Ekisa. The man put a hand on Sudev’s shoulder, and the boy buried his face in the man’s tunic.
Paithal looked very much as though he wanted to hug his father too, but instead, he came forward and gave a respectful bow. “Good morning, Father, Lady Ekisa.” He reached forward and gently disentangled his younger brother, who was still clinging to the Emperor. “Sudev,” he said reprovingly. “We’re in public.”
Sudev flushed and scrambled backward. “Good morning, Father,” he said, mimicking his brother’s bow.
The Emperor’s smile was deep and genuine. Mara thought it made him look even sadder. “Good morning, my sons,” he said, nodding in acknowledgment. “And what are you two monkeys up to this morning?”
“Staff practice!” Sudev blurted. “And Mara played goat and tiger with me!”
The Emperor’s gaze moved to Mara. “Did she?” His gaze sharpened, and suddenly Mara was reminded that she was in the presence of royalty. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you. Are you new to the palace?” He glanced at Garen as he said it, and it was Garen who answered him.
“Mara is companion to Revathi sa’Hoi,” Garen said calmly. “She expressed an interest in meeting the Jade warriors, so I invited her to accompany us.” A swift look passed between him and the Emperor, a question and an answer. The Emperor’s shoulders relaxed slightly.
“Excellent.” He nodded to Mara again. “Welcome to the palace, Mara.”
Mara put her hands together and bowed as low as she could. “It’s an honor to serve, Your Majesty.”
“I’m sure it is,” the Emperor said. He glanced at Lady Ekisa next to him. “The sa’Hoi family is close to my heart. You choose your friends well.”
“As always, Your Imperial Majesty is too kind,” Lady Ekisa said. Her voice grew regretful. “I hate to pull you away from your sons, but I do need to discuss some things with you.”
“Yes, of course,” the Emperor said. He reached out to ruffle first Paithal’s hair, then Sudev’s. “Be good, boys. I’ll see you for dinner.”
“Yes, Father,” the boys chorused. The Emperor smiled at them one more time, and then walked away with Lady Ekisa. Mara watched them go.
That was a little terrifying, she sent to Garen.
You should have met him before the Empress became ill, Garen sent back. Saro could cow a roomful of nobles with one look.
Mara noticed that Sudev kept glancing over his shoulder as they walked. The princes miss him, don’t they?
They do, Garen sent He’s got little time these days to visit them, and as you saw, they’re expected to keep a certain level of formality in public. It’s hard on a child.
Poor boys, Mara sent, thinking of her own childhood. Pouncing on her father’s tail, being washed and nuzzled when she got muddy. Her mother’s exasperated breaths against the back of Mara’s neck as she carried Mara away from whatever mischief she’d gotten into.
At least Mara had had her parents while they were alive. Not only had the princes lost their mother, they seemed to be losing their father as well.
The Jade Circle was as clean and sparse as before. The princes seemed restless after seeing their father; Sudev was alternately sulking and fussing, and Paithal was quiet and sharp. Mara was so busy trying to keep the peace that she was surprised when Garen stopped in front of an iron gate. It was the same one that Samara had told her to look for. The gate with the naga on it.
“We’re here,” Garen said out loud. The princes stopped poking each other and straightened up, folding their hands behind them. Garen winked at Mara. “Suni insists on discipline inside these walls.”
Mara glanced at Paithal and Sudev, who were looking straight ahead. “Impressive,” she commented.
“Suni’s the best warrior in the city,” Garen said. He reached for a silken rope hanging by the gate and pulled it. Mara could hear the soft peal of bells from inside. “And he’s as good at teaching as he is at fighting. Not that you’d know it to look at him.”
As soon as they were welcomed inside, Mara understood what Garen meant. The gate opened onto a wide courtyard, surrounded by low buildings. There was a training exercise going on, a bent, old man in a dark-green robe facing off against a young girl. The girl
was small and dark with a braid of black hair down her back and a cleft lip, a common sight in some of the poorer villages of the Empire. She was dressed in dusty traveling clothes and she held her lati fighting staff with confidence.
The old man twirled his staff in a complicated pattern. Despite his frail appearance, his voice carried over the gathered crowd in the courtyard. “Your teachers said you have skill in the combat arts,” he said. “Well, we will see. Defend yourself!”
The girl swung her staff, but the man moved faster than anyone Mara had ever seen. He knocked her to the ground and disarmed her.
“Again,” he commanded.
The girl rose, picked up her stick, and faced him again. There was nothing but determination in her face. And when she went down for a second time, she stood up before she was told to. A smile drifted across the old man’s face.
“Again then,” he said. Over and over, he knocked her down, and over and over she got right back up. Dirt and sweat streaked her face, but her eyes were alert. She was watching her opponent, Mara realized, trying to match his fighting style. A few times, she even managed to get in a block and strike of her own before he knocked her down.
“How long will you keep fighting?” the old man asked. He didn’t even seem to be out of breath. “How long will you keep getting up?”
The girl lifted her chin. “As long as it takes,” she said, speaking for the first time. Her voice was low and deliberate, each word carefully pronounced. “As long as I can.”
The older man nodded. “Excellent,” he said. He gestured to one of the green-clad warriors on the edge of the crowd. “Take her to the novice quarters and get her new clothing and a proper weapon.” He bowed to her, hand on chest. “Welcome, my dear.”
The girl copied his bow. “Thank you, Master Suni.” Then she allowed herself to be led off, and the crowd started to disperse.
Mara realized she was smiling. She could see why Samara had suggested this place to her. It seemed very like the Order.
“New student, Suni?” Garen said. The older man turned and bowed again, this time pressing both hands together.
“Highnesses,” he said to the princes. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
The princes bowed back, almost as low as they had for their father, then stood straight, hands at their sides. Suni clapped his hands.
“What are you waiting for?” he said. “Go start on your warm-up exercises.”
The boys hurried to obey, and Suni turned to Garen. “Yes, the girl is new. She’s from that estate that the Emperor runs, the one that trains orphaned girls. She was originally studying to be a healer, but . . .”
“But she kept sneaking out to take lessons from the Combat Mistress,” came a female voice, and a woman and a man emerged from the crowd. The woman’s green robe was too loose for fighting, and her hands were marked with the swirls and patterns of a Jade healer. “She still wanted to be in Jade caste though, so we decided to bring her here. A warrior spirit like that should not go to waste.”
“A wise decision,” Garen said. “Though not all warriors fight with staffs and spears.”
The dimple in the woman’s cheek deepened. “As my guard constantly reminds me,” she said.
“I do,” the man agreed, speaking for the first time. Mara’s eyes flicked over him, and she bit back an exclamation of surprise. The man was wearing a leather ear cuff over one ear and a bronze earring in the other. A pledged member of the Order.
The man’s eyes rested on her, and Mara resisted the urge to duck behind Garen. She hadn’t thought to meet another one of her Order so soon. But the man’s face held nothing but friendliness.
“Well, well, well!” he said. “This is a pleasant surprise!” He put a hand on his chest and bowed. “Well met, sister! I am Vihan, pledged to Sanah the healer.”
Mara flushed as everyone turned to look at her. “Well met, brother,” she said, returning the bow. “I am Mara, unpledged. I . . . I haven’t been out of the Order long,” she added, feeling shy and awkward.
“Have you come to stay with us?” Suni asked. “Their weapons master sometimes sends the new ones here if they have nowhere else to go,” he explained in an aside to the healer. “We are old friends.”
Mara glanced at Garen, who was listening with interest. “No, I’m working in the palace for now. Just until I find my charge.”
“Excellent,” Vihan said. “That will be great practice. Have you any idea where to look?”
“I thought here, maybe?” Mara said, stumbling over the words. “I mean, a healer . . . or someone like that . . .”
Vihan’s face creased into an understanding smile. “Ah yes, the dream of every new member.” His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Take it from me, Mara. Guarding healers isn’t as good as the stories say. They run headlong into all kinds of danger, and they serve you horrible-smelling medicines just because they can.”
The healer—Sanah—laughed. “I wouldn’t give you those medicines if you didn’t become so snappish. One would think you had marsh flu instead of a simple cold.”
Vihan grinned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. “I was clearly dying.”
Sanah shook her head. “Of course you were. But we should be getting back. I have some delicate herbs soaking, and I don’t trust my novices not to strain them wrong.” She bowed to Suni. “Always a pleasure, Master Suni.”
“For me, too,” Suni said. “Travel safe. I’ll look after your girl.”
“I know you will.” The healer looked at Vihan. “Coming?”
“Yes, Sanah,” the man said. He put a hand on Mara’s shoulder. There was kindness and sympathy in his face. “Remember, little sister,” he said. “The goal of the Order is not just about regaining our own honor. It’s to defend those who need us. To look after those who have no one else.”
Those who have no one else.
The words echoed in Mara’s head even after she and Garen took the princes back to the palace.
Let them take the name of those they guard. Let them treat the bond as stronger than marriage, stronger than family. And let them care for their charges, not only as one cares for a treasure, to protect and guard it, but with sincere affection and honesty of heart. For there is no greater honor—and no greater love—than to lay down your life for someone you call friend.
Excerpt from the founding documents of the Order of Khatar
“HEEMA, I NEED to know how to get a job with the tea sellers.”
The veiled woman looked up from her mending. The little boy beside her ducked his head, hiding behind her shoulder. She ruffled his hair.
“The tea sellers are a pretty closed-in group,” she told Emil in her expressive voice. She was wearing blue today, a fine, pale color at odds with the shabby surroundings. “They don’t hire outsiders.”
“That’s why I need your help,” Emil said. “I don’t need them to hire me on permanently, I just need a work permit that will allow me to get into the Flower Circle. That’s where Stefan is.”
Heema was silent for a moment, stroking the toddler’s hair. “Come back in an hour’s time,” she said. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Emil nodded and ducked out of the curtained doorway. He might as well use some of his coins to buy a little meat for dinner.
He returned an hour later with a rabbit dangling from one hand. Heema was standing outside her home talking to Abhra, the tea seller who Emil had met once before. Emil presented the rabbit to her, and even through the veil, he could sense her smile.
“Thank you, Emil,” she said, her voice low and delighted. “The children will love it.” She nodded to Abhra. “I’ll leave you two alone.”
With a graceful bow, she ducked back into the house.
Abhra poured a cup of tea for himself. He didn’t offer one to Emil, and he didn’t speak.
Emil waited. His eyes wandered over to the canal. A group of boys was having a water fight, shirts off and skinny arms splashing. One of
them tipped his head back and laughed. Emil looked away.
The tea seller sipped his tea. “You know,” he said finally, “all kinds of people come to Kamal, and they’re usually looking for something.”
“Is that so?” Emil said, following the man’s lead.
“Oh yes,” the tea seller said. “Usually it’s a work permit, but sometimes it’s something entirely different.”
“And do they find it?”
“Every now and then,” Abhra said. “Sometimes we find it for them.”
“We?”
“The tea sellers,” Abhra said. He adjusted the heavy cart. “Few notice us, but we’re allowed everywhere, Inner or Outer City. And we hear everything. There’s nothing like a good cup of tea for loosening tongues and greasing gossip.”
“And what do you do with it?” Emil asked, still being careful. “The gossip?”
“We use it,” Abhra said. “To protect ourselves and others who need protecting. We are not informants.” He smiled, quick and sharp. “Though the Emperor’s men wish it were otherwise. And would pay well for what we know.”
“But you don’t sell your secrets,” Emil said, beginning to understand. “You keep them close.”
“Do you judge us for that?” Abhra asked.
Emil shook his head. “No.” He took a deep breath. “I’m looking for my brother,” he blurted. “He’s about my age, broad-shouldered, and he stands this high.” He made a gesture. “Hair as long as mine and a broken wrist. The people he came here with . . . they’re up to no good. And I think they’re in the Flower Circle.”
Abhra took another sip of his tea. “What’s his name?” he asked finally.
“Stefan,” Emil said, hope climbing, sharp and frantic in his chest. “Stefan Arvi.”
The tea seller pressed his hands together and bowed. “I like you, Emil. You have a cautious tongue and an honest heart. I’m willing to help you. For a price.”
“What price?”
Abhra stepped forward so that his face and Emil’s were inches apart. His dark eyes were very sharp. “Information. Something is going on in this city and I don’t like it. Strangers appear, stir up trouble, and then disappear. People are restless, angry. Now you tell me there are people up to no good in the Flower Circle. When you find your brother, I want to know who he’s with and what they are doing. That is my price for helping you.”
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