by Anna Kashina
The Majat surveyed her for a while in silence. Now that Mai wasn’t around, his expression changed from childlike wonder to a cold calculating look. Clearly he didn’t feel the need to keep up his façade in front of Ellah. Maybe he sensed she could see through him. Or was it all in her imagination?
His intense gaze made her uncomfortable. It was nothing like the way Mai looked at her, with bold interest that made her melt inside. Sharrim’s look was searching and evaluating. It was as if he was fingering through goods in a store in an attempt to find something of use. It made her feel violated.
“Why’re you looking at me like that?” she demanded.
Sharrim’s eyes narrowed. “Why did he bring you along?”
Ellah lifted her chin. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”
Sharrim opened his mouth to respond, but at that moment Mai reappeared with a full kettle of water. He hung it over the fire, his air of calm confidence making even the thought of an argument in his presence seem preposterous. Then he settled down by the fire and took his bowl. He didn’t say anything, but his action served as an unspoken signal for everyone to start eating.
It was meat stew with some grain mixed in. The taste was a bit bland but the meal was comfortable and filling. Ellah ate her share slowly, feeling the warmth spread through her body and strength return to her tired limbs.
By the time she was done, the water in the kettle was already boiling. Mai threw in a handful of dry leaves with a heady aroma and poured the steaming brew into three mugs. Ellah picked up hers and took a careful sip. It was bitter, stronger than the tea she was used to back home.
The sun set behind the trees, its reddish glow giving way to the transparent shadows of early dusk. The glade submerged into deeper shadows, but it still wasn’t dark. Looking away from the fire, one could clearly see the growth at the other end of the glade. The lake’s silvery gleam lit up the forest off to the west.
Mai put aside his bowl and leaned back, keeping his eyes on Sharrim. The Jade stiffened. It seemed that something important was about to happen, something for which they had both been preparing for throughout the entire meal. Perhaps it was a continuation of their earlier conversation?
“So, tell me about yourself, Gahang,” Mai said. His voice was calm, but his eyes spelled challenge.
The Jade hesitated, throwing a quick glance at Ellah. She had the distinct feeling she wasn’t wanted. But she wasn’t going to leave unless Mai told her to.
“I can do anything you want me to, Aghat Mai,” Sharrim said. “I’m really honored to serve under your command.”
Mai measured him with his eyes. Ellah had a strong sense he was purposely trying to get Sharrim disconcerted.
“That hardly tells me anything about you, does it?” he said.
“What do you want to know, Aghat?”
Mai shrugged. “The Guildmaster’s letter said you’re the best. Are you?”
Sharrim looked at him with uncertainty. Mai waited. His outwardly relaxed pose reminded Ellah of a cat preparing to leap on its prey.
“The Guildmaster’s too kind,” the Jade said at length.
Mai let out a short laugh. “One doesn’t become the Majat Guildmaster for being kind, Gahang. I know Aghat Oden Lan well enough to vouch for that. But his personal qualities have nothing to do with my question. Either you’re the best, or you aren’t.”
Sharrim shifted in his seat. “Gahang Khall thinks I’m one of the best. He’s the one who recommended me for this assignment.”
Mai nodded. “I heard Gahang Khall knows his job. But I can’t rely on his judgment, can I? So, you’ll have to convince me, Gahang.”
“What do you want me to do, Aghat Mai?”
“What can you do that makes you the best?”
Sharrim hesitated. It was clear he had never been questioned this way before. It was also clear that behind the dog-like submissiveness he was showing Mai he was beginning to feel rebellious.
“I’m good with a bow,” he said.
Mai nodded. “Let’s see.”
Sharrim reached for his pack, bringing out an elongated object that looked to Ellah like a sheathed lyre. He carefully pulled off the cover.
It was the strangest bow Ellah had ever seen. Unlike the tall narrow bows carried by the Lakeland archers, this one was short, wide, and very curved. A leathery cord wound around the entire length of the shaft in tight coils. The string hung loosely off one end.
Sharrim took the bow with the care of a lover. Grasping the center of the shaft with one hand and the string with the other, he rested the bow against his knee and made a quick, powerful move that inverted the curve of the weapon, clicking the string into place. Ellah blinked. It was as if he had turned the bow inside out, so that all its grotesque parts suddenly came together.
Sharrim ran his hands along the curves of the bow in a caressing move that seemed almost too intimate to watch. Then he lowered it and looked at Mai.
Mai held out a thick piece of wood of about one elbow in length. “Ready?”
The Jade flung the quiver over his shoulder and stood straight, holding the bow in a lowered hand. Then he nodded.
Without getting up, Mai swung out his arm and threw the stick high into the air. It went straight up, rotating as it rapidly ascended into the clear evening sky.
Sharrim pointed the bow upward. His hand darted to the quiver, drawing arrows one by one with dizzying speed. He shot them in a continuous movement that sent a fountain of black streaks up into the sky. Ellah tried to follow, but quickly lost count.
After a few moments the stick came down, crashing onto the ground a few feet away. It was pierced with multiple arrows, making it look like a brush.
Sharrim retrieved it and handed it to Mai. His look of quiet satisfaction dissolved into uncertainty at the sight of the Diamond’s level expression.
“Seven,” Mai said. “Not bad.”
Sharrim kept his face steady, but Ellah could see that this casual praise meant a lot to him. He retrieved the arrows and inspected them carefully before returning them to the quiver.
“How about another test?” Mai asked. His hand slid to his belt and came up with a pack of throwing knives. He held them out to Sharrim, blades up, like a player holds his cards. Ellah counted six.
Sharrim swallowed. “I’m not sure I can do six. Not if you throw them, Aghat Mai.”
Mai smiled. “This is your chance. Try.”
Sharrim’s hand darted to the quiver and brought out six arrows. These arrows looked different. They were slightly longer, and had no feathers on their shafts. Sharrim held the bow horizontally and placed them loosely on top, resting the ends against the string so close to each other that he could hold them all with one hand. He met Mai’s eyes and nodded.
Mai’s hand flew up in a short movement, whose force could be guessed only by the whistling of the knives that left his hold. Sharrim pulled the string and released all six arrows into the air, answered by a cracking sound and thuds by the tree at the other end of the glade.
Both Majat got up and peered at the tree trunk. Ellah, who was closer, could make out three knives sticking out of the wood. The rest of the knives were nowhere to be seen.
“Three,” Mai said after a moment. “Not bad.”
Sharrim’s face lit up with a childlike smile. “Wow! Usually I can do at least four. You’re so good with knives, Aghat!”
Mai glanced at him in surprise. Apparently, being praised by a subordinate wasn’t something that happened to him all that often.
They searched through the grass, retrieving three throwing knives and six arrows, one of them cracked. Only then did Ellah realize the meaning of the exercise. With one shot, Sharrim was able to aim six arrows so that three of them deflected Mai’s throwing knives from reaching their target. That seemed impossible. No human being could aim and shoot six arrows at once into a moving target, even if only half of them were able to hit. Ellah looked at the Jade with new wonder.
The two Maja
t returned to the fireside and sat for a while, sipping their tea. Ellah did her best to keep quiet. She knew she was witnessing something that wasn’t normally intended for an outsider.
“How old are you, Gahang?” Mai asked.
Sharrim raised an eyebrow in surprise. Mai waited.
“Twenty-three,” the Jade said at length.
“When was your ranking tournament?”
“Two years ago.”
Mai slowly turned to Ellah. She sat up, as if pulled by an invisible string.
“Did he tell the truth?” Mai asked.
She called up the colors in her mind. “Yes.”
Sharrim spun around, his eyes full of surprise, but Mai merely nodded as if nothing unusual was going on.
“Now, tell me, Gahang,” he said. “What other weapons can you handle, and which are your worst?”
Sharrim hesitated, his look turning from surprise to anger as he continued to look at Ellah. “A truthseer, Aghat?”
“Answer my questions, Gahang.”
Sharrim settled back into place with a defeated look. “I’m good with a crossbow,” he said. His tone was earnest, but the chilling glance he threw at Ellah showed how much this honesty was costing him. “But I don’t carry it. I’m much better with a bow. And, I can throw knives, but not as well as you, Aghat.”
“How about that dagger on your belt? Can you use it?”
“If necessary.”
Ellah sensed a change of color go through her mind as he said these words. She raised her chin. Sharrim gave her a reproachful look.
“What is it?” Mai asked Ellah.
She frowned. “I’m not sure. It’s as if he carries it for a different purpose.”
Sharrim shifted in his seat. “I’m not that good in a hand fight with daggers.”
“Then, why do you carry one?”
Sharrim ran his eyes between Ellah and Mai with a hunted look.
Mai slowly put his mug down and leaned forward in his seat, stretching a hand out to Sharrim. “May I see it?”
The Jade hesitated. For a moment it seemed to Ellah that he was going to refuse. But then he slowly reached to his belt and drew the dagger, handing it to Mai, hilt forward.
“Don’t touch the blade,” he warned.
Mai took the weapon and turned it in his hands. He carefully studied the blade, then brought it closer to his face and sniffed.
“Black Death,” he said. “A strange choice of poison, Gahang.”
Sharrim shrugged. “It’s slow, but certain. And, there’s no known antidote. I also use it on some of my arrows.”
Mai’s eyes narrowed. “Not on this assignment, Gahang.”
“Whatever you say, Aghat Mai.” Sharrim threw a nervous look around.
Mai handed back the knife and winked to Ellah across the fire. She smiled.
“I know it’s not my place to ask, Aghat,” Sharrim said, “but why’s she here?”
Mai gave him a calm stare. “You’re right, Gahang. It’s not your place to ask. Ellah is here because I asked her to come with us. That’s all you need to know.” He held Sharrim’s gaze until the Jade sank back into his seat. Then, he got up and collected the dishes into the empty kettle.
“I’m going for a swim,” he said. “Want to come along, Gahang?”
Sharrim hesitated, then nodded.
“We’ll be right back,” Mai told Ellah. “You should sleep. We start early tomorrow.”
He walked away along the trail to the lake, Sharrim hurrying in his wake. Before disappearing behind the bushes, the Jade turned back and gave Ellah such a bloodcurdling glance that she felt her hair stand on end.
26
THE ROAD TO JAIMIR
Morning mists hung low over the Holy City of Aknabar, mixing with thick wisps of smoke. Slow gusts of wind carried odors of refuse and rot, blending with heady aromas of incense and the stale smell of the river water. To their left Kyth could see the ominous star-shaped building of the Great Shal Addim Temple looming over the top of the West Hill. The monastery wall ran from the temple all the way through the city, enclosing a large chunk of the hillside and the area beyond. The Dwelling of the Holy Maidens crowned the distant East Hill, its smoothly polished stones glowing in the sun. Ahead, the oily gleam of the River Elligar showed in patches through the gaps in the stone maze of buildings that ran in cascades down to its turbid waters.
At this early hour the streets were empty. Regular citizens were just waking up, throwing open heavy window shutters and bathing their sleepy faces in early sunbeams. As for the pilgrims, Kyth was fairly sure that all of them were gathered at the river bank, prostrating on the stone steps that lined the entire Aknabar riverfront, in the holy ceremony of greeting the sun.
“We should go straight to the port,” Kara said. “By the time we get there, the morning rituals should be over. That’s the time the boats start to Jaimir.”
Kyth nodded. She looked refreshed after her night’s sleep. The feverish gleam in her eyes was gone, and her posture in the saddle had become more relaxed. Her quick smile made him feel warm inside.
They made their way down the street maze, maneuvering around the burnt heaps of trash. Closer to the port the streets became more busy, people hurrying around on early morning chores. Aromas of baked bread and roasting meat joined the bouquet of other smells, creating a dizzying combination that made Kyth’s mouth water. All they had eaten for the past ten days were the rations Kara brought from the Majat Fortress. Meat and bread seemed unattainable – like heaven.
“Nimos’s men didn’t bother us much on the road,” he said. “You must’ve scared him off.”
Kara shook her head. “They’ve been following us all the way. Even through the city.”
“They have?” Kyth glanced over his shoulder to the empty street behind.
“Yes.”
“But why?”
She shrugged. “There’s only one explanation. Their purpose is not to stop us, but to make sure we get to our destination.”
“They want us to reach the Grasslands?”
“Whatever they want is not important anymore.”
“Why?”
“I can’t tell you. Sorry.”
Kyth recognized the determined expression on her face that made it useless to question her further. She rode on ahead and there was nothing left but to follow.
The maze of streets became denser as they approached the port. As they cleared the last stone archway, the market plaza opened ahead of them wide and long, running in cascaded stone terraces all the way down to the docks.
Even this early, the place buzzed with activity. In the semicircle adjacent to the front row of buildings, merchants were setting up their stalls, preparing for a big market day. Further on, the docks gave way to a network of floating platforms that connected to each other and to the shore, creating a labyrinth of pathways and streets that extended almost to the middle of the river. Boats of all sizes and shapes towered among the platforms, rocking with the flow of the Elligar waters.
The morning bathing ritual was over. Scantily clad people made their way out of the river, dripping wet, emanating a faint smell of mud and decay. Holy books taught that the waters of Elligar had the power to purify, but it took a real fanatic to ignore the fact that this river also served as the sewerage for the entire city, as well as the burial place for the holy pilgrims, whose rotting corpses were often seen floating up from the river’s turbid gut. Kyth shivered, pulling his horse to a stop next to Kara, who was peering through the sunlit morning haze toward the docks.
“There’re many boats about to leave,” she said. “Let’s go.”
She dismounted and led her horse toward the water. Kyth and Alder followed, trying not to fall behind.
It wasn’t easy to maneuver in the thickening crowd. The pilgrims streamed the other way, their enlightened faces turned up to the looming shape of the Great Temple that loomed over the city from the top of the Western Hill. They showed no awareness of the three traveler
s struggling to pick their way through.
Kara headed toward a large freight barge at end of the boat row. Something about it was familiar. Its upper deck was piled with crates, and the lower deck had a row of openings, with oars sticking out halfway like a set of short, thick bristles. A name was written on its side in large bold letters. Kyth was almost sure he knew what it said, even before they got close enough to read it.
“Lady of Fortune,” Alder said.
Kyth nodded. A few months ago, he took this barge upriver with Alder, Ellah and Kara, on their way to Tandar. He wasn’t looking forward to repeating the experience.
“Imagine that,” he murmured. “Captain Beater’d be thrilled to see us.”
“Not us,” Alder corrected.
Kyth looked ahead with a sinking heart.
Kara stood beside the boat talking to a short, bald man, whose sturdy build suggested a considerable physical force. His yellow beard stuck out over the bushy growth on his chest, visible through the open collar of his linen shirt. He held a polished wooden stick, tapping it on the open palm of his other hand. His beady eyes misted as they rested on Kara, his tongue licking his lips in such a meaningful way that Kyth’s stomach turned. He hurried to catch up.
As the foster brothers approached, Captain Beater tore his eyes away from Kara and gave her companions a disappointed look. “So, the boys’re still tagging along with you, my pretty? Eh?”
“We’re traveling together, yes,” Kara said. “And I’m not ‘your pretty’.”
He measured her with a slow, sticky glance that stopped just short of reaching her face. “Not yet. But if we’re to spend all this time together on the boat, there’s no reason to get lonely, eh?”
“I won’t be lonely, thanks.”
Captain Beater winked. “Neither will I, I hope. ’specially with you on board.”
Kyth grasped the reins of his horse. “We’re wasting time. Let’s go find another boat.”
The captain laughed. “Moody, eh? Do you want passage to Jaimir or not?”
“It depends,” Kara said, “on when you’re planning to leave.”
He gave her a meaningful smile. “When do you want to leave?”