The Silent City

by Ginn Hale

  A man stepped out from the dark alley between two winehouses, buttoning the top of his pants. He glanced at John, then with a horrified expression, stepped quickly back into the alley.

  John touched his neck where the man’s eyes had lingered. His fingers came away dark with blood. John glanced down at his leg and for the first time realized that the rashan’s bullet had ripped through his thigh. The wound had already closed but blood still stained the entire left leg of his pants. His back had to look worse. He couldn’t just walk into a hostel looking like this. Even with his hood hiding his blond hair, he’d still attract too much attention.

  Eventually, John spotted the painted sign for the Hearthstone Hostel. Beside the hostel there stood a small wooden stable. John slunk around the building and past the empty animal pens. The stable doors were secured with a heavy padlock.

  Ravishan would have slipped through the doors in elegant silence, John thought. He could have come and gone without leaving a trace, like light passing through glass.

  John grabbed the padlock. He felt its bright metallic nature glimmer against his palm. He closed his fingers around its mass and pushed just a little of his will against its structure. It blackened and crumbled, falling through his fingers to lie in smoking hunks on the snow.

  Inside the stable, the darkness was deeper than the night outside, but John’s eyes adjusted quickly. He recognized eight of the tahldi in the stalls, but no more. Lafi’shir had already accomplished his mission and loaded men and cases of rifles on the train heading south. He, Saimura and the few remaining men were probably enjoying a warm meal in the comfort of the hostel. They’d most likely taken their packs and saddles with them, which meant he wouldn’t find a change of clothes in here that he could use to hide his injuries.

  A perfunctory search revealed that this was true, but John noticed they’d left several saddle blankets behind. He couldn’t wear those, but he supposed he could climb up into the hayloft, curl up in the dirty blankets and sleep until Lafi’shir and the others came to retrieve their tahldi in the morning. He shoved his hands down into the pockets of his coat and considered the climb up into the hayloft.

  His fingers brushed against a smooth, warm shape in his pocket. It was the bone Saimura had given to him for strength. John pulled it out and studied its incised surface.

  Saimura’s carvings were different from the Eastern commands Ji taught. They weren’t Payshmura either, but they seemed to be a melding of both. Observing them now, they struck John as having been carved in Saimura’s own secret language.

  Endowed with Saimura’s own blood, this talisman seemed far more individual, or perhaps more personal, than the charms John had carved in Ji’s classes. This warm bit of polished bone seemed intimately Saimura’s.

  John closed his hand around it. He didn’t need strength, so much as he longed for some small comfort.

  John didn’t attempt to push his will against the talisman. He knew that would simply overpower and destroy it. Instead he tried to pull at it. Gently, he coaxed its warmth into him. The fine carvings glowed a pale gold.

  John felt heat and breath. He tasted the faint salt of a man’s skin. A sound like a supplicant gasp brushed over his ear. The intense ache in John’s thigh grew warm and then eased. John pulled at that warm strength a little more.

  The talisman shuddered against John’s palm. The soft, whispered gasp seemed to grow more ragged until it took on the tremor of a sob. Slightly alarmed, John quickly dropped the talisman back into his pocket.

  John had no idea of what to make of that, but he felt better—at least strong enough to endure the climb up into the hayloft. He went to where the saddle blankets hung. The pungent odor of tahldi sweat emanated from them.

  Then John heard someone outside the stable doors. He stepped back into one of the empty stalls. Moonlight poured into the stable and then Saimura leaned in through the open door. He held his rifle at the ready and glared into the darkness of the stable.

  “It’s me, Saimura,” John whispered.

  “Jahn?” Saimura said his name as if he couldn’t quite believe it was him. “What are you doing in here? What did you do with my talisman?” There was a tremor in his voice. John wondered suddenly if he’d somehow injured Saimura when he’d tried to use the talisman.

  “I tried to use it. I’m hurt,” John replied. “But I didn’t know what I was doing.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Right here.” John stepped out from the stall.

  “Why are you in the stable?” Saimura peered through the darkness at John. John moved closer so that a little of the light from outside fell on his face. Saimura stepped back at the sight of him but then stopped. He lowered his rifle.

  “I didn’t think I should be seen by everyone in the hostel. Not looking like this,” John said.

  “You’re right,” Saimura said. His expression was still oddly drawn. “I hadn’t thought about that. Sorry.”

  “It’s fine,” John said. He wasn’t sure why. He didn’t know what he thought was fine. “I could use a blanket and something to eat if you could manage it.”

  “You look like you need bandages and stitching as well.” Saimura started to turn away, then paused. “Will you be all right until I get back? I should only be a few minutes…”

  “I’ll be fine. Thanks.”

  Saimura stepped back and closed the door. John considered sitting down on one of the tack benches. He didn’t know if he’d be able to stand again if he did. He gazed up at the beams of the roof. For the first time he noticed the clusters of birds up there, huddling close to each other. Something scuttled along the edge of the rafter. A weasel, John realized. They were such adaptive animals.

  Yellow lamplight flashed through the crack beneath the stable doors. Instinctively, John drew back into the shadows of the stall. Saimura came through the door carrying a lamp. Lafi’shir followed, holding blankets and a leather case. Saimura pulled the stable door shut.

  When John emerged from the stall, the lamplight felt like a spotlight as it fell across him, illuminating the full extent of his bloody state. Saimura stared at him in silence. The lamp shook in his hand, making shadows jump up the stable walls. Lafi’shir’s eyes widened enough for John to see the whites.

  “I didn’t want to just walk into the hostel.” John moved closer to them. Saimura hung the lamp on a wall hook and stared intently at John’s injuries.

  Briefly, John feared that Saimura might bolt from the stable. But then he seemed to regain his composure. He walked to John’s side.

  Lafi’shir followed Saimura. He glanced over John’s neck and thigh, then shook his head.

  “How the hell are you still standing up?” Lafi’shir asked.

  “If I lie down I don’t think I’ll get back up.”

  “Lay the blankets down for him,” Saimura said.

  Lafi’shir scowled at the stable floor.

  “Just a minute.” Lafi’shir picked up the saddle blankets John had considered earlier and tossed them on the floor. He spread the finer bedding over the saddle blankets.

  “I’m going to need warm water,” Saimura said.

  Lafi’shir set the leather case down beside Saimura and left the stable.

  “Jahn.” Saimura addressed him softly, soothingly, as if he were speaking to a wary animal. John smiled at him.

  “I know I’m in bad shape, but I’m not going to panic. What do you want me to do?”

  “Let me get you undressed.” Saimura sounded a little more like himself now, calmer and sympathetic. “I need to see the extent of your wounds.”

  John nodded. He didn’t try to remove his own clothes. Saimura stripped his coat and thick snow pants off with the gentle efficiency of a man well used to treating the injured. Just as he finished, Lafi’shir returned with an enamel basin and a second lamp.

  Saimura then peeled John’s shirt off his back. John felt the dried blood clots pull away. Fresh blood trickled down his back and over his bare buttocks. Deep
pain seemed to wrench up from his bones. He shuddered.

  “Can you keep standing?” Saimura asked.

  John didn’t trust his voice. He nodded.

  “Are you sure,” Saimura asked.

  John nodded again. He needed to know what the Rifter was capable of. He needed to prove to himself that he could do more than just survive pain and exhaustion, but that he could take strength from it.

  “All right.” Saimura whispered incantations over the basin of steaming water and then washed John’s wounds. John expected the pain to intensify as Saimura rinsed the blood and torn flesh from him. Instead the water dulled the hurt. It smelled sweet and John wondered if Lafi’shir had poured yellowpetal into it.

  John glanced to Lafi’shir, who sat on one of the weathered benches. He stared at John with both of his hands buried deep in the pockets of his heavy coat. John wasn’t sure if it was an effect of the harsh lamplight, but Lafi’shir’s face seemed deathly white.

  “This may hurt,” Saimura said from behind John. John heard him open his leather case. He glanced down and caught the flash of polished blades, needles and forceps against the dark luster of the leather. John lifted his head and stared up into the rafters. He tried to pick out the shape of the weasel again.

  Saimura pushed something into his torn shoulder.

  John choked on a cry. A rush of rage surged through him. Crumbling mountains and black, shattered skies flickered in John’s thoughts. The air shuddered. John clenched his jaws and drew the furious, churning power back into himself.

  His pain receded. His fatigue seemed to lift.

  He felt Saimura pause.

  “Just a few more,” Saimura told him.

  John simply nodded in response and continued to focus all of his will against the reflex to lash out in pain.

  One by one and in total silence, Saimura pulled the bullets from John’s wounds. John thought he could feel Saimura’s hands shaking, but he didn’t think too hard about it. He concentrated on his own anger, restraining it.

  Saimura stitched the bullet wounds in John’s shoulder and back closed. Then he rinsed John’s back again with the warm yellowpetal water.

  “I don’t think your neck or thigh will need stitches.” Saimura wiped his needles down with an acrid, red fluid and then replaced them in the leather case.

  “I feel better already,” John said.

  “You should rest,” Saimura told him. As soon as he’d packed away his medical supplies he withdrew. John turned back to thank him only to catch an expression that was as much horror as exhaustion on Saimura’s face. Then it was gone.

  John wondered what could have caused such a change in Saimura’s demeanor. Had he sensed the fury crackling in the air as he’d removed the bullets from John’s body? But then Saimura had been acting strangely since he had first found John in the stable. The sight of his torn body might have simply overwhelmed Saimura.

  Then John remembered Saimura’s strained demand to know what he’d done to his talisman. It had trembled and whimpered when he had drawn strength from it and Saimura had found him in the stable only minutes after that.

  “Saimura—” John began.

  “You should rest, if you can,” Saimura cut him off immediately.

  John nodded. He wasn’t about to force Saimura to talk to him—certainly not in front of Lafi’shir. And he wasn’t sure he truly wanted to hear what Saimura would say. Not tonight at least.

  John knelt down on the bedding and then lowered himself onto his right side. His neck ached and little, biting pains flared up his back, but it all seemed inconsequential. The slight softness of the blankets came as a vast relief.

  “We’ll need to get those clothes cleaned and patched.” Lafi’shir spoke for the first time in nearly a half hour. He frowned at the blood-soaked heap of John’s discarded clothes.

  “I’ll give them to Tai’yu. He has a sister here.” Saimura gathered up the clothes but held them away from his body. He walked to the stable doors, then glanced back to Lafi’shir.

  “Go on,” Lafi’shir said. “I won’t be much longer.”

  Saimura took his leave.

  Lafi’shir remained on the tack bench, studying John. The silence between them stretched on. John thought suddenly of his father. There had been several nights, just before his father had been sent on active duty, when he would stand in the doorway of John’s bedroom studying him in silence. Then, at last, he would wish John goodnight.

  Now Lafi’shir watched him with that same uncertain expression.

  “What are you really called?” Lafi’shir asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Jahn is an animal’s name.” Lafi’shir’s tone conveyed the disapproving expression that his beard and thick brows hid. “You’re no animal. What is your real name?”

  “It really is just Jahn,” John replied. “I don’t have another.”

  “A man who takes six bullets and keeps his feet shouldn’t be addressed like an animal. You’re a man. You need a man’s name,” Lafi’shir stated.

  “I’m used to Jahn,” John replied. He had even grown used to the animal hand sign that indicated his name, though he hated the sneer that often accompanied it.

  “Tell me how you occupied the rashan’im,” Lafi’shir asked suddenly.

  “I…” John paused at the change of subject but then answered, “I led them west to Mirror Lake. The ice broke under them when they tried to follow me across and I lost them there. Then I backtracked.”

  “That was clever,” Lafi’shir said.

  “Thanks.” John rested his head against his arm.

  Lafi’shir didn’t say anything. He didn’t even seem to be paying much attention to John now. Instead he gazed at the tahldi in their stalls. John closed his eyes. The soft warmth of sleep spread slowly through his muscles.

  “Jath’ibaye,” Lafi’shir said quietly.

  “What?” John cracked his eyes open.

  “It was my uncle’s name,” Lafi’shir said. “I think it might suit you. What do you think?”

  “Jath’ibaye,” John said. He closed his eyes against the harsh lamplight. The name evoked a solitary green refuge. It conjured the image of a calm moment in a deep forest, when the sun filtered through leaves and cast warm emerald shadows. The sweet perfume of bramble flowers mixed with the salty scent of his own sweat. He thought of Ravishan’s lips on his skin and suddenly realized that he was drifting into a dream.

  John pulled his eyes open. Lafi’shir still sat looking at him.

  “Jath’ibaye sounds good,” John said. He felt oddly touched that Lafi’shir would take the trouble to name him. They’d only known each other for a few days.

  “Then it’s yours.” Lafi’shir stood and walked to the stable doors. “I’ll have Pirr’tu make sure no one bothers you. Get some sleep.”

  John nodded. Only moments after Lafi’shir closed the stable door, John drifted back to his dream of that warm green sanctum that his new appellation seemed to promise.

  To be continued…

  Characters appearing in Arc Six

  Arren— Head of fighter’s district in the Warren.

  Ashan’ahma – An ushiri studying at Rathal’pesha.

  Alidas—A rider for the Bousim family; partly crippled.

  Amha’in’Bousim–Lady Bousim, 3rd wife, exiled to the north.

  Bil—Called Behr in Basawar.

  Daru— Fai’daum priest

  Eriki’yu— Boy in the Fai’daum Warren

  Fenn— Fai’daum fighter recently drafted from the stables

  Fikiri Bousim–An ushiri: son of Lady Bousim.

  Gin’yu— Fai’daum Scout Captain

  Giryyn—Fai’daum priest

  Hann’yu–An ushman exiled to the north: specializes in healing.

  Issusha’im–The Payshmura oracles.

  Ji Shir’korud—Dog demon; one of the Fai’daum.

  John—Called Jahn

  Kansa—Faidaum witch in training

 
Lam— Fai’daum priest

  Lafi’shir— Fai’daum Ground Commander

  Laurie—Called Loshai in Basawar.

  Lyyn— Craftsman in the Fai’daum Warren

  Nivoun Bousim— Governor of the Bousim’s northern holdings

  Parfir—The earth god.

  Rifter—The destroyer incarnation of Parfir.

  Ravishan—The most promising of the ushiri at Rathal’pesha.

  Rousma—Ravishan’s sister.

  Sabir—The leader of Fai’daum.

  Saimura—Ji’s son.

  Serahn—Powerful Ushman in the Black Tower of Nurjima.

  Sheb’yu— Fai’daum fighter and spy

  Tai’yu–Fai’daum fighter.

  Tanash — Fai’daum witch in training

  Wah’roa—Leader of the kahlirash’im at Vundomu.

  Common Terms and Words

  and ———————-iff

  animal / it ————shir

  asshole —————-wahbai

  bark (tree) ————istana

  bee (honey) ———behr

  best ———————-sho

  black ——————-yasi

  blonde hide ———jahn

  blood ——————-usha

  blue ——————— holima

  bone ——————-sumah

  bones (holy) ———issusha

  book ———————lam

  brothers —————ashan

  but / however ——hel

  chasm ——————kubo