Abeo looks around and laughs. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. I thought you would be maybe different. More serious, I guess.”
Abeo arches an eyebrow at me. “There are some tastahlik here and in other tribes out west like that. They frown all the time, and sometimes they even live apart from their communities. When their tribes migrate, they remain in their own separate caravan. But not all tastahlik are like that. For some of us, we like to have fun. Life is too short. And when you can do what we do, it gets even shorter.”
“And so you fight inisisa for fun?” The idea sounds even more absurd when I say it out loud.
“We control them too, so it never gets out of hand.” He shrugs. “In the end, we get to decide when and how it ends. But it gets boring if you’re just walking around, calling sins and Eating sins and calling sins and Eating sins.” He smiles so wide it splits his face. “Anything can be a sport if you let it.”
It sounds ridiculous, but I can already feel myself getting tugged toward it. I’m intrigued. “And you use dagas?”
“We use all sorts of things.” He pushes himself to his feet. “Here, come with me. I’ll show you.”
The others watch as Abeo leads me down a corridor at the back of the room, then down a flight of stone stairs.
“Careful. Even in the day, there are no lights down here. But eventually, you’ll walk up and down these steps so many times, you will do it with your eyes closed.”
Our footsteps get louder and louder the deeper we go, then I hear the creak of a door opening.
We’re in complete darkness. I can’t even tell shapes apart. “Where are we?”
“The weapons room.” Abeo stands by the door. “Go on. Your eyes will adjust. This is where we keep everything.”
I walk in and can hear metal and stone rattling softly together. Almost as though blown by a wind. The door shuts behind me.
I shuffle forward. The rattling sounds again.
But how? There’s no wind.
“Abeo?” I hiss. “Abeo?” Then, louder, “Abeo!” I rush to where I remember the door to be and feel around for a handle or a knob. Anything! But nothing. Just solid wood. I slam against it as I hear a long growl from behind me. “Abeo! Open the door!” Nothing. “This is not funny!”
The growl gets louder.
By the Unnamed, he’s trapped me here with a sin-beast.
CHAPTER 18
THE INISISA GROWLS behind me. I whirl around and curse the darkness. I have no way of telling what it is or how big. How many arms it has, how many claws on each hand, whether or not it has a tail. I don’t even know how big the room is. Its growl gets louder, then it pauses, and I can hear it sniffing. Slowly, I edge along the wall with the door, so maybe I can tell just how wide it is. The floor is cold underneath my feet. My hands touch something cold and smooth running along the walls—metal. It makes a rattling, shimmering sound as I brush by it. Then I hear wood bounce against the stones as well, and I think of Wale’s staff and remember that this is the weapons room.
A rush of wind signals the beast’s attack, and I dive to the floor. I feel the bottom of the sin-beast glide over me as I roll forward. It bangs into the door, and I come to my feet, backing up quickly so that I can see how far the room extends the other way.
The sin-beast turns. I hear scraping along the stone floor. Claws? A tail? Then clicking as it steps forward. Definitely claws.
It lunges, and I jump to the side. The impact from the wall jars me. Metal edges prick me under my shirt. I fumble about to try to get something off the walls and meet only chains. Before I can pull a weapon loose, something swings for me, and I get my arm up just in time to shield my face from what I guess is the beast’s paw. It hurls me across the room. I land with a thud. When I try to get to my feet, pain knifes through my stomach, and I collapse. I never properly healed from the fight with Wale.
My eyes start to adjust slightly, and I see the shape of something swing for me—another paw. I duck just in time, then try to scramble out of the way and brush by one of the thing’s legs. It swipes at me again, catching me right in my back and slamming me into the wall. Sharp edges dig into my skin. I hang for a second before tearing myself away. I can’t see it, but I can feel blood trickling down the front of my shirt. I’m not fast enough to beat this thing. I grab at the wall again, trying to pull something loose, and then I feel the whole of the sin-beast ram into me. It throws me off my feet, and when I land on the ground, it lands on top of me. In my hands is a tangle of chains. Both forepaws are crushing my chest, and I struggle for breath. The thing’s tail flails from wall to wall, banging against the weapons and sending some clattering to the floor. Its face leans in, gets closer and closer to mine. I still can’t breathe. My head feels like it’s about to explode. I’m starting to get dizzy. My arms refuse to move.
It’s going to eat me.
Just as its jaws are about to snap on my neck, I raise an arm to catch it and scream in pain. It burns where I’ve been bit. Tears leak down my face. It shakes its head with my arm clasped in its teeth. My arm’s starting to go numb. With all my strength I lift one leg and kick the beast hard in the chest. It stumbles back, and I break free. I clutch the chains in both hands and throw them over its head so that they loop a couple of times, then I squeeze with all my might. I try to inch my fingers up. My heart pounds. I’m losing energy.
Blood leaks from my mouth, and my arm is wet and shiny with it. I can’t reach the beast’s face to try to control it, so I hold the chains fast and pull, even as the inisisa leans on me and presses down on its paws. Circles of light, like coins, pop up in front of my eyes.
But I pull and pull and pull until I hear a snap, then the whole animal goes limp and falls on me.
I can’t move. I have my breath back, but I can’t move.
For a while, I’m completely still. I’m covered in sweat and blood. The inisisa dissolves into a puddle that pools at my sides. I close my eyes and await the sin, and, compared to the fight, Eating is like drinking milk and eating chin-chin.
I try to roll to my side, because I know I won’t be able to get up all at once. I come to one knee, and I’m huffing so loud I can hear the wheezing in my chest. Pretty sure at least a few important things are broken.
I don’t care that I’m near to death. I’m going to find enough energy in me to kill Abeo twice.
Light spills into the room. I didn’t even hear the door creak open.
There’s someone standing the doorway, holding a lamp.
I drag myself across the ground and don’t even realize I’m still holding the chains until I hear them scraping against the floor. There’s a strange sound coming through, muffled, which makes me wonder if maybe something in my ear is damaged. I get closer. My vision is blurring.
I see a single figure standing in the doorway. Tall, hands moving together. It’s Abeo. And that ruby-licker is clapping.
* * *
• • •
I’m wrapped in so many bandages when I wake up that it’s a wonder I can move at all. I’m happy to be alive, but everything hurts, and I just want to close my eyes again. I remember everything clearly: the fight, the fear, the way my body moved anyway, all instinct and with no thought, and then pride swells in my chest at the memory of me snapping the thing’s neck. Looking back, even though my mind was empty of all conscious thought, emotions rioted inside me. As I lie here, it’s like I’m also looking down on myself from the ceiling, and I can see through my own chest, my own skin and bones, to watch feelings swirl around in me: heart-racing fear, anger at the inisisa, fury at Abeo, satisfaction at winning, and residual guilt at the sin I had to consume after the fight. I know the guilt isn’t mine; it belongs to whoever spawned that sin. But it hasn’t gotten easier to stuff down.
I glance out of the corner of my eye, and Juba is sitting at my bedside. I look just past her to
see Arzu, arms folded, standing near the entrance. She’s glowering at me. Juba’s expression is a bit kinder. But there’s still steel in it.
“The Onija did this to you,” Juba says, looking me over.
She’s not wrong. Abeo did trap me in a room with a murderous sin-beast he said he could control, and he did let it almost kill me. But I want to tell her about sitting with the Onija and eating melons and chin-chin and how we laughed and joked and how, for the first time since I got here, I felt like I’d found my people. But I realize, just as I’m about to say those things, that they would only anger her. So, I turn my gaze up at the ceiling. Masks hang from it. Masks with inisisa carved into the wood. Masks painted with stripes of color, blue and red. Masks no one ever seems to wear.
“They have disgraced our tribe.”
I look over, and she is trembling with fury. I don’t know what to say.
“Treating a guest, a refugee, like this when he is only seeking shelter.”
“It was supposed to be a game,” I tell her.
“You nearly died!” Arzu shouts. She breaks away from the wall but still stands half a dozen paces from the bed. “It took several Larada to attend to you. Taj, how could you?”
She’s prepared to say more, but Juba raises a hand to stop her. Her fury has turned cold. Juba stands to her full height. A part of me worries that I will be the one punished for this. But, instead, she says, “It is decided then. I’ve let this pass for far too long. Fighting is to be banned. There will be no more Onija. In this tribe, you are either Larada or nothing.”
I have broken something here. I just wanted to find someplace where I felt I belonged, and now I feel I’ve done something that can’t be fixed.
Juba turns to Arzu. “The Elders will hold an emergency council tomorrow where I will make the announcement.” She spares me one last look. “I will not let this happen again.” She waits at the entrance, then turns to face me again. “Your friend, the scholar. She is precious to you. Sometimes, when we lose something dear, we are fortunate enough to get it back.” She looks to Arzu, who looks back wordlessly. Thankful. “But sometimes that is not Olurun’s will. And sometimes when we lose something precious, when we are halved, we are never restored.” She faces me fully. “Your friend is ill, and I do not know if it is an illness one survives. Concern yourself with that, not this . . . lahala, as you call it.” Then she’s off, her robe flowing behind her. Arzu glares at me one last time before following her out.
CHAPTER 19
I BARELY SLEEP in the hours that follow, the pain is so intense. But eventually, I am able to move my arms and get my legs to work. Getting out of bed, I nearly fall on my face but catch myself at the last minute on a stool. A few heavy breaths later and I’m upright. If I breathe just right, the pain becomes bearable. Soft breathing allows me to make it all the way to the tent’s entrance. I need to find Aliya.
A few animals stir in the early part of the day. The sun’s not yet high enough to chase them into the shadows. But no one’s out yet. My footsteps are the only sound I hear. Then, in an alley between two abandoned huts, I see movement. Two people.
Something glints in the darkness. Coins.
I press up against a wall so that if I crane my neck around the corner, I can spy them.
“That was a big one.” That voice—Abeo. “What did you do to give me such a big beast, eh? Steal from your mother? Hit your sister?” He chuckles. More coins jingle. “What will you buy when the next caravan comes?”
“I don’t remember.” It’s a child’s voice. I can hear the smallness in it.
“Well, then. Don’t spend it all at once.” Then another chuckle from Abeo. I peek out from behind the wall and see Abeo whisper something else in the child’s ear. I get out of the way just as the child darts out of the alleyway and races past me. Ash dots his ragged shirt. He runs barefoot into the maze of huts and is gone.
I watch him run.
The kid is no taller than Omar was when I first found him. Alone at the top of a ridge, no flats for his feet, face covered in snot, his shirt little more than rags as he watched us bury an aki. He became our little brother so quickly. I remember his Daga Day, when we gifted him with his own proper weapon and stood in a circle and cheered for him while Sade carried him on her shoulders.
I’m pulled out of my thoughts when a heavy hand falls on my shoulder.
“Eh-heh, so the warrior awakens.” Abeo’s grinning his traditional face-splitting grin.
I shake off his hand and take a step back. “You tried to have me killed,” I tell him, trying to maintain enough calm to sound deadly. “I ought to slice your throat right here for that.”
Abeo looks me over, gaze staying a bit longer on my bandaged forearm. It looks like he winces, but that could just be my eyes tricking me. If I tried to fight him now, he could easily kill me. And he knows this. “Well, we had to see. You can fight one of us, but how well can you fight a sin-beast?” He leans toward me. “We have a tournament coming soon. And I have addressed my committee. They would like to see you fight for us.”
My body’s screaming at me. Between Wale and the inisisa, I don’t know how much more it can take. And lately it seems like all I’m doing is fighting. Wait, does he know that Juba will soon meet with the Elders? Instinct moves me to warn him, but I keep my mouth shut. This is tribe business. Not my business.
“You do not have to decide now. But there will be many pretty girls from the refugee camp watching.” But he’s standing there with his hands on his hips like he’s waiting for a yes or a no at this very moment. When I don’t give him one, Abeo smirks, then stretches his back so that it cracks loudly, and lets out a yawn. “You miss it, don’t you? The fighting. The Eating.”
I look down, refusing to answer.
“You know what you are.” He leans in close and whispers his words in my ear. “Even as they try to make you into something you are not.” He snickers. “I know what we are. Juba thinks we are one way, but really we are the other way.” Then he walks off.
I stand there for a while longer, wishing he were wrong. The village starts to stir awake. I look back down the alley. The shadows have stilled. But I swear I can hear something in there growling at me. The urge rises in me to fight it. But I tamp it down. This was the sin-lust the Aunties used to tell me about when I was a little aki in the marayu. You fight until you know nothing more than fighting, then you start to seek it out until it consumes you.
My thoughts are such a jumble in my head that I don’t even notice Aliya until she’s practically on top of me.
“Taj! Taj!” She waves her staff at me. Her skin has paled, become almost see-through.
“Aliya, what’s happening to y—”
“Taj! Come! Come now!” She grabs my arm and yanks me along, plowing forward with her staff. Her limp has gotten worse, but she doesn’t slow down.
“Where are we going?” I manage to say behind gritted teeth. I realize now that it’s too soon for me to be running.
“To the house! There’s something I have to show you.” Her words trip over themselves coming out of her mouth.
“Aliya, slow down. Please.”
She stops and stares straight through me. “Taj, this is important.”
And I don’t know why, but the way that she says it is enough to shut me up all the way to the house on the hill.
* * *
• • •
“Taj, I think I know what all this is.” She’s standing in the study amid a graveyard of unrolled books. She gestures around. “It all makes sense now. It’s Iragide. The art of binding.”
“Aliya,” I say, keeping my voice gentle. “When is the last time you slept?”
She looks at me like I’ve just asked her if she’s a lizard. “Taj, don’t you understand? This is a Mage’s work. Whoever was here, that was what they were doing. Taj, it’s the secret!”
“Aliya, the secret to what?”
“To saving Kos!”
For a moment, I’m silent. Anger and sorrow battle inside me. Every time I see her, she looks less and less well.
“Taj! Whoever this is is looking for the Ratio!”
That makes me pause. The Ratio. The same piece of knowledge Karima is searching for. The key to controlling everything. But . . . what is it doing here? Questions buzz inside my head. I stalk past her.
“Taj! Wait! He’s still alive!”
I stop at the door. “What?” I turn, and she’s standing there with a new look in her eyes. Pleading.
“Arzu’s father. He’s still alive. And he’s planning something.” She reaches out to me. “This isn’t an abandoned home,” she says quietly. “Somebody didn’t just leave all these books here.” She picks some of them up from the floor. “Some of these are old, but some of them are new. The ink is fresh.”
“If they were a Mage, why wouldn’t they just study this . . . Iragide in the Great House of Ideas? Back in Kos?” I can’t believe I’m even entertaining this lahala, but there’s an earnestness in Aliya’s gaze that I can’t break away from. And even though I can’t understand what’s happening to her, what sickness is taking over her, I know her better than anyone else here. She trusts me.
“Because it’s forbidden. Remember? It was the power the Seventh Prophet could wield. Before he became too powerful. Taj, if someone else was learning how to do what Ka Chike could do . . .” Her eyes widen, and as soon as the thought crosses her mind, it hits me. Whoever learned how to do what Ka Chike could do . . . they’d rule Kos.
“He would be in very big trouble.”
The voice comes from behind me. I whirl around. In steps a man so large he towers over us. He has a silver beard folded into a long, single braid. Like the other Mages, his eyes have no color. They are like the shedded skin of a snake. He holds a longstaff tight in his hands like a weapon.
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