Wahzir disappeared a moment, then returned, dragging a stool into the alcove. He sat down, very much at ease. But he looked thoughtful. “What is it about you that makes my master want you? What are you to do?”
I shrugged. “He did not take me into his confidence.”
The healer thought a moment longer, eyes narrowed, lips twisted. He was turning something over in his head. And then he began to laugh. “It’s the book! The Book of Udre-Natha! So, the rumors are true! Now it fits together—the puzzle is solved!”
“What rumors?”
Wahzir showed small, even teeth briefly in an amused smile. “That you had locked it against all others and only a mage can do so. Only a mage may open it.” The smile remained, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “You gave the book to my master knowing he couldn’t open it, because you—a mage—closed it. Locked it with spells. Then you disappeared before Umir could do anything about it. But a man recently brought word where you lived, and that you were going north. Umir knew you’d return to the South. And he knew how to find you on the way. No one bypasses that big oasis.”
No. No one did.
“I’m sure Hamzah and Tariq were growing very bored, waiting for you.” He laughed again. “All is explained.”
There was no reason to deny it. “You’ve seen it? The Book?”
“Oh, yes. My master likes people to know what he owns; he doesn’t hide all away. His pride is his collection. We’re all allowed to see it.”
It crossed my mind that he might be lying. Umir was a subtle man. “Describe it for me.”
“I don’t need to.” Wahzir rose, left the alcove. I heard him rustling papers, moving pots around, shoving things aside. Finally he returned with a large book in his hands. “Is this it?”
It was a plain, leather-bound book. No inset gemstones, gold or silver scrollwork, no burned-in knotwork designs that might set it apart from other books. Hinges and locked latch and hasp were made of patinaed copper, and time-darkened gut threaded the pages onto the spine.
I looked from the book to Wahzir.
He smiled. “I thought perhaps it might be a copy. But it isn’t, is it?”
“What are you doing with it?” I made a gesture to encompass the larger room, astonished that Wahzir not only had it, but that a book of such power, a grimoire, would be jumbled together with everything else in an untidy room.
“Trying to open it,” he said lightly. “I’m a mage.”
“A mage?”
“Mage-healer.”
I’d heard of them. I’d never met one before. “But why here?” I asked. “Shouldn’t it be kept in a safer place?”
“I told my master I could not be expected to sit alone in a reception chamber and open it. I required what I was most accustomed to, and that is here in this room. The book was brought to me.”
I played over something he’d said. I was very careful with my words and intonation. “Trying to open it.”
“And failing.”
“But you’re a mage.”
He sighed. “We are not infallible.”
I began to be a little concerned. I’d always detested magic, and most of what was claimed to be magic, wasn’t. But I’d learned. I’d been taught that lesson atop the stone spires of Meteiera. “You said you know something now. That you understood the puzzle.”
“I know why my master has done what he’s done, yes. And why. The rumors about you are true. My master wants you for the magic in your bones.”
Ignoring him, I got up again, moved back to Del’s bedside and sat once more. “Bascha?”
“I gave her a draught,” he said. “She won’t waken for quite some time.”
Bitterly I asked, “Umir’s idea?”
“No. Mine. She needs to remain very still or the bleeding might begin again.”
I turned, leaned my back against the edge of the bed. My kidney stabbed with pain, and I couldn’t suppress a grimace. I closed my eyes, sighed very deeply. Shackles rattled in my lap.
“He wishes very badly that the book be opened, does my master.”
I grunted.
The book lay on his lap. “Would you do me the favor of pushing your hair back?”
I stared at him in bafflement. “Push my hair back? What in hoolies for?”
“Will you?”
“There’s no reason I should do any such thing.”
“Please.”
We stared at one another a long moment. I was angry, frustrated, and he knew it; he was calm, patient, and I knew that. So I skinned my hair back from my forehead, baring the edge of blue tattoos that ran all along my hairline.
“Ahhh.” He smiled. “Thank you. I’d always heard of the mages of Meteiera, but had never met one.”
I let my hair flop back over my brow. “Yes, I’m very unique.” And kept the tattoos hidden with hair. The mages of Meteiera shaved their heads.
“Is it true that you’ll go mad and die in ten years?”
I had seen men leap from the spires in the moment before the madness overtook them, killing themselves so they would do no harm to people they loved. Not all had the will to leap. Some had indeed gone back to families, thinking they could control the madness—and slaughtered them when the magic overwhelmed their minds.
I told Wahzir the absolute truth. “I’m a sword-dancer,” I said. “That’s all. A long life lies ahead of me.”
Wahzir smiled sadly. “The book must be opened.”
“Hunh. Umir should know by now that I don’t surrender quite so easily.”
“You must,” he repeated. “Please.”
I scowled at him. “‘Please’ isn’t going to work this time. I don’t know what Umir’s paying you, but it’s not going—”
He broke in. “He’s not paying me. I’m part of his collection.”
It stopped me cold. I stared at him.
“Part of his collection,” he repeated. “There aren’t many of us left, you see, we mage-healers, so here I am.” He shrugged lightly, as if resigned. “But when I tell you the book must be opened, it has nothing to do with me, or even my master. It has to do with you and your future.”
That was odd. “My future?”
Wahzir’s eyes were kind, but also sad. “Umir has your daughter.”
Chapter 39
BUMPS ROSE ON MY FLESH. Hair stood up. I felt cold, so cold. I shivered from head to toe.
“Yes,” Wahzir said, before I could deny it from disbelief. “It’s quite true. I’ve seen Sula. She’s approximately two years old, has hair not quite as blond as Del’s, blue eyes, and she frequently announces her name to anyone within earshot.”
My lips felt stiff. I couldn’t speak properly. “How did Umir find her?”
His expression was apologetic. “I don’t have that answer. I’m sorry, Sandtiger. All I was given to know was that Umir wished to use your daughter to force your hand. Then I knitted together the rumors I’d heard about you being a mage. Though I’m not sure anyone believed it.”
He knew her name, Sula’s. That he knew mine, knew Del’s, meant nothing. But Sula’s. The Sandtiger had a daughter. People in Julah knew. It was no secret. But neither was it something that came up in conversation except with people Del and I knew well. We didn’t hide it. I could think of no reason why anyone would ride out of Julah all the way to Umir with such knowledge.
Del and Sula. Two hostages.
One would have been enough.
Gods. Sula.
I rose to my knees and turned to Del, who was insensible to all. I bent down over her, putting my head against hers. “I’ll make her safe,” I told her. “I promise. I’ll do whatever he wants. She’ll be safe. And we’ll all go back home together.”
“Sandtiger.”
I kissed Del’s brow. “I promise.”
“Sandtiger.”
On my knees, I turned.
Wahzir held out the Book of Udre-Natha. “Here. You can do it right now, right here, and all will be over.”
I stared at the
book. My eyes burned, but were dry.
“It will be over,” the mage-healer repeated. “All you have to do is give Umir what he wants.”
I collapsed back against the bedframe. I was empty, so empty.
“You closed it. You can open it.” He stepped forward, bent, pushed the book into my hands. I’d forgotten how heavy it was. “Open it.”
It crossed my mind briefly that Wahzir was being very aggressive about me opening the book. It bore thinking about. But I had no focus to do so.
The Book of Udre-Natha. I stared at the cover. I touched it. Ran fingertips across the unadorned leather. Touched the hinges, the hasp, the latch. It looked like any other book. But this one would never open for anyone but me.
The me I’d once been, but wasn’t anymore. I had made sure of that when I poured my magic into Samiel and broke the blade.
A great grief rose up as I met Wahzir’s eyes. “I can’t.”
“He’ll let you go,” Wahzir insisted. “All three of you. He just wants the book.”
“I can’t.”
“Sandtiger—”
“I can’t. I gave all the magic away.”
Wahzir sank down, eyes wide with shock. “You gave—?”
“I gave it away. I couldn’t face having only ten years left to me. Not when my life was so full.”
His face was pale. “You gave it away?”
I tossed the book aside. No pages fluttered. The cover didn’t get caught on anything. The book was locked. No harm was done.
“I gave it away.”
Wahzir stared at me. The pupils in his eyes grew and grew. Lips peeled back. He displayed gritted teeth. “You gave away what I would kill to have!” He leaped to his feet. “Do you understand? All that magic!” He swept up the book I had tossed aside. He hugged it to his chest. “Gods! Gods! All that is in here, and I can’t open it. You can’t open it!” He dropped to his knees, rocking, keening, as if he’d lost a child.
I looked back at Del, who had just lost a child. The other one, the living one, was now at risk. What could I tell my bascha? That both children were dead?
Wahzir sobbed on his knees.
“You’re a mage-healer,” I said. “This book is nothing to you.”
He lifted his head jerkily, meeting my eyes “This book is everything to me!”
I felt numb. Sluggish. That my thoughts were too dull, too jumbled, to put anything together. The puzzle pieces.
But slowly, they came.
“You want the book for you. Not for Umir. You knew he had it. You allowed yourself to be taken, to become part of his collection so you could reach the book. But you couldn’t open it. So now—there’s me. Umir wants me to open it. You need me to open it.”
He stared at me, then put out a shaking hand and pointed behind me toward the alcove. “If you tell Umir, I will kill her. All I must do is nothing. Nothing, and she’ll die.”
Another puzzle piece. “You’re not worth anything, are you? Not to Umir, if he knew. You’ve lost your magic.”
Rage suffused his features. “And you gave yours away!”
Umir wanted the book opened, but mostly just to have it so. A locked book in a collection, when what lay beneath the lock was the greatest knowledge a mage could ever have, was not valuable. Particularly when it was such a plain thing to look at. So he wanted what was on the inside. And he threatened my daughter to get it. He was not called Umir the Ruthless for nothing.
“I can’t live this way,” Wahzir said. “I’m empty. Empty. Nothing is in me. I can’t live as an empty man!”
And all I wanted was to be an empty man.
Wahzir trembled. “Umir will kill your daughter when he knows you have no magic. Just to punish you.”
So he would.
“And I’ll kill her mother, just to punish you!”
He and I both heard a rattling in the larger room. A door boomed open. Men came to the alcove: Hamzah. Tariq. Others.
Umir, too, came to the alcove. “Has he opened it?”
Wahzir shook his head.
“Did you tell him of his daughter?”
Wahzir nodded.
“And he still refuses?”
“He can’t open it!” Wahzir cried. “He gave it all away. He gave his power away. He’s an empty man, like me. And the book stays closed!”
Umir looked at me. “Is this true?”
I didn’t bother to look at Wahzir. “He’s lying. The book can be opened.”
“Are you quite certain?” Umir asked. “Wahzir has been of help to me. I have never known him to lie.”
“Three things,” I said, “and I’ll open the book for you.”
Umir remained, as always, icily calm. “Three things?”
“You will harm neither my daughter nor her mother. You’ll let me see Sula. And you must let me go free.”
And Umir smiled. “Do they mean so little to you after all? You’ll use them so you can be free?”
I raised a delaying hand. “Wahzir is correct about one thing. I am what he calls an ‘empty man.’ I have no magic.”
“You see?” Wahzir shouted.
I looked only at Umir. “But I can get it back.”
Even Wahzir fell silent. The only sound in the alcove, in the room, was the chiming of my chains.
“Give me the stud,” I said.
Umir forbore to point out that made four things. “Either you’re lying, and won’t return—”
“In which case you’re no worse off.
“—or you will use the magic against me.”
I shook my head. “Not while you hold Del and my daughter. I’ll open your book. On their lives, I promise. And then we leave here. All three of us. Alive.”
Umir smiled very slowly. “But if you have your magic back, I might wish to keep you. For my collection.”
“But I won’t have any magic if I put it into the book.”
One brow rose. “You can do that?”
“I put it into a sword. I can put it into a book.”
Wahzir’s eyes lighted. I knew what he was thinking. The magic in the book was powerful enough, but augmented by the magic I’d brought home from ioSkandi? He knew what that power was. He knew of the mages atop the spires. He knew I’d had that power.
“Trust me,” I said, “I don’t want the magic. I’ll be happy to let you have it. Why do you think I stuck it in the sword to begin with? The cost is too great. I have too much to live for.” I indicated Del. “Her. My daughter. Me. We leave here alive and unharmed.”
“You will leave now,” Umir said with quiet emphasis. “Waste no time. You have two days.”
I was stunned. “Two days! Are you sandsick? I need more—”
“If you don’t return within two days, I will assume you have no intention to.”
I shook my head vehemently. “I can’t do it in two days. Not across so much of the Punja!”
“Hamzah,” Umir said, “have his horse readied.”
Hamzah inclined his head in acknowledgement and departed the room.
Umir took two steps to me, another past me, and stopped at Del’s bedside. He looked upon her, then turned to face Wahzir. “See that she survives. On your head be it.”
He moved past me. Wahzir followed. I knelt down at the cot and kissed the side of Del’s head just above her ear. “I promise, bascha. Nothing will harm her.”
Hoolies. Two days. I’d counted on more.
“Stand up,” Tariq ordered.
I stood. Turned. Held out my hands. The shackles were removed.
“My daughter,” I said pointedly.
Umir said, “Tariq.”
Tariq indicated the door. I walked out of it.
The stud was waiting as I was led through the front door into the colorful courtyard. Umir did have a taste for beautiful things, beautiful surroundings. And of course he very quietly underscored his wealth by making a fountain the centerpiece. In a desert, water was worth more coin than most could claim. Even other tanzeers.
A stranger held the stud. He was saddled, bridled, ready to go; had full botas on the pommel. He stomped on paving stones noisily, employed a conversational tone in nickers and squeals. Mostly he was swearing.
I turned away from him and looked at Umir’s steward waiting on the entry steps. “Where’s my daughter?”
He indicated a second floor window. And there my daughter was, held in a stranger’s arms. She slept. She did not know I was here.
I have never done a thing so hard as to ride away from Umir’s.
And to my death.
Chapter 40
IT WAS ONLY AN HOUR OR SO before the sun set and the moon rose. In sand and soil, the stud and I need not worry about rocks and snake holes lying in wait to trip him, as they would do once we left the Punja. So we ran, the stud and I, racing as far as we could before the light changed, before the footing did too.
We’d left the North behind. Here it was hot. I stopped reluctantly because I so badly wanted to go on, but the stud needed water. I had no bucket. I peeled an upper lip back and shoved the bota’s spout up into his cheek. I squeezed. The stud, completely startled, jerked his head away and backed up, ears rigidly forward.
“Water.” I shook the bota. “You need it. Drink.”
He was not at all pleased to have the bota anywhere near his mouth, after what I’d done with it. I was not at all pleased to argue with him. The law of the desert is to drink before you’re thirsty. If you wait until you are, it might be too late. People die of too much sun, not enough water. So can horses.
But every moment I wasted trying to convince the stud was time away from Del and Sula.
One day there, one day back. And magic to recover in between.
In desperation, an answer occurred. Umir had ordered I be given a burnous. Now, faced with a recalcitrant stud and needing to ride on, I tore off the burnous. I dug a hollow in the sand, spread the burnous over it. Squirted all of the bota’s contents into the cloth-lined basin, emptied a second as well.
“There,” I said. “Drink. And hurry up before the water soaks through!”
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