Raybearer

  “What’s a wuraola?” I asked Melu.

  “Ah . . . I have not heard that name in many years.” He cocked his head. “A wuraola is a girl made of gold. A girl . . . full of sunshine.”

  Sanjeet grinned. “Of course it it,” he said. “Tar, it all makes sense. This is what’s wrong with Aritsar. Why the Imperial Guard’s attempts at unity have always failed. This is why the empire never truly came together. Don’t you see? We were never meant to be ruled by one man. If you and Dayo—”

  “I’m not ruling anyone,” I snapped. “I never said I wanted to be empress.”

  “You’ve never said it,” he retorted. “But . . . I think you’ve always known.”

  I tried to deny it . . . But memories made my throat close up. The restless nights I had spent in the Children’s Palace and in Yorua Keep, heaping piles of ice on my chest so the burning, the flame I kept hidden, would disappear. The countless times I had blinded myself to Dayo’s faults, white-knuckling my intellect into submission. Pretending that his decisions were best. Pretending I couldn’t have done it better.

  “I don’t know what I am,” I said. “But believing in me could be dangerous, Jeet. And I’m tired of hurting you. I’m tired of hurting everyone.”

  “I swore to serve the Raybearers of Aritsar, Tarisai,” he said. “I intend to keep my vows.”

  I pressed my lips together. “We should find shelter,” I muttered. “It’s not safe this close to Bhekina House.”

  “You have nothing to fear from The Lady,” said Melu. “Not here.”

  I huffed in disbelief. “How can you be sure?”

  “The Lady is not here. She was captured by Olugbade’s forces shortly after you left her on Nu’ina Eve.”

  My veins ran cold. “What?”

  “The emperor has never stopped looking for The Lady. Not once in thirty years,” Melu explained. “And you ended up being just the bait that Olugbade needed. Your public appearance on Nu’ina Eve was The Lady’s only chance to make you her weapon again. So she returned to Oluwan for the first time since her banishment, not knowing that the emperor’s spies were waiting.”

  “What will he do to her?”

  “I do not know. But death will not be enough for Olugbade. He has something to prove—to himself, as well as to the world.”

  Sanjeet pointed out, “If The Lady is a Raybearer, then the emperor can’t kill her. Not if she has a council.”

  “During her banishment, she succeeded in anointing only ten council members.” Melu shrugged. “This means she lacks an immunity. It will not take Olugbade long to discover which one.”

  “We can reach her before he finds out,” I said. “Tell us The Lady’s weakness—we’ll fool the emperor somehow. Make sure he doesn’t use it.”

  The ehru was silent. Slowly, I read the coldness in Melu’s face.

  “You want her to die,” I whispered. “You’re glad Olugbade caught her.”

  “Her death will free us both,” Melu replied. “If Olugbade wins, you will not have to kill Ekundayo. You need not claim your title as Raybearer, nor struggle to find your purpose. It is by far the simplest solution, and much faster than waiting for old age to claim her.”

  I reeled, wanting to shake him . . . but my limbs were numb. Melu’s indifference was justified. The Lady had made him an ehru, and me a slave.

  So why did my stomach turn at the thought of her suffering?

  A battle festered inside me. The Lady was my mother: She had treasured me. The Lady was my enemy: She had created me to hurt people. But The Lady had been hurt as well. And though I still felt loyal to the emperor, I had begun to doubt his righteousness. Whatever he planned for The Lady, I suspected, would look nothing like justice.

  “We’ll save her without your help,” I told Melu.

  The ehru smiled. “Olugbade’s strongholds are too strong even for you, daughter. The Lady’s Hallowed council is her only chance of escape. One council member is here, at Bhekina House. She plots to free The Lady even as we speak.”

  “Good,” I shot back. “Then we’ll help her. Come on, Jeet. We’ll spend the night at Bhekina House and leave at first light.”

  Melu frowned. “That house was not a happy chapter of your story. Are you sure you want to return?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  Melu considered, and then made a smooth gesture. Several yards away, a canopy appeared in the clearing. Creamy draped linen billowed in the night breeze, tinted gold by lamps in the grass.

  “I will not bother you any longer,” he intoned. “But sleep here, and visit Bhekina House in the morning. The magic of that place is not gentle on one’s mind. Remember this, Tarisai: No matter what happens, I will always be glad that I named you.” Then he vanished in a cloud of dust.

  “Let’s go,” I told Sanjeet, nudging him toward Bhekina House, but he looked uncertain.

  “You could use the rest,” he countered. “And the house is still far off. We can’t see it from here.”

  “It’s right there.” I pointed. “We can ask The Lady’s friends about Aiyetoro’s masks. There might even be clues in the manor; we can search . . .” I trailed off as Sanjeet squinted at Bhekina House, his expression blank. “Oh. Right.” My stomach sank. “The Lady wished for ‘a stronghold that no one may see or hear.’ Not unless she desires it.” And if I could see those red rooftops, then The Lady wanted me to return. She wanted to keep me, as she had for years, in that windowless study. Her caged bird. Her Made-of-Me. I swallowed, stepping back.

  “I’ll go in the morning,” I told Sanjeet. “It’s . . . easier to search by daylight.”

  Melu’s canopy arched over downy bedrolls on raised pallets. He had summoned satin pillows and baskets of dates and kola nuts. They were scattered on straw mats so fine, sprites must have woven them. Somehow, the canopy shielded us from mosquitoes and gadflies, and probably beasts as well, though Sanjeet still kept a scimitar by his pillow as we slept. I woke the next morning with my head on his shoulder, and his arm across my torso.

  Mortifying, I thought, and did not move an inch.

  Sanjeet’s lashes twitched. Like me, I realized, he was too still to be truly sleeping. Mutually caught, we fumbled apart.

  “Don’t be shy on our account,” called a familiar cheeky voice. “It’s nice to see you two have made up.”

  Sanjeet’s scimitar leapt into his hand, and we were both on our feet in seconds. Two figures, one tall and sullen, and one short and merry-faced, approached our canopy.

  “Kirah!” I cried at the short figure, delighted. “And . . . Woo In?”

  They rode a catlike beast that sent thrills up my spine. The luridly bright leopard was the size of a horse, each paw the width of two human hands. Its wily yellow eyes glowed even in daylight. I exhaled through my teeth. I had not seen Woo In’s emi-ehran since the day the Children’s Palace had burned. It was no wonder Woo In had survived the Underworld with that as his protector.

  Sanjeet tightened his grip on his scimitar, lowering into combat stance. “Wait,” I said, touching his arm. “I know that beast.”

  Kirah waved and hopped down from the emi-ehran’s back. A bandage covered one of her hands. Along with her gauzy prayer scarf, she wore the clothes of a Blessid priestess: a sand-colored tunic and pantaloons. They blew about her in a strangely sudden wind as she ran toward us. Sanjeet lowered his blade in confusion.

  “You’re all right,” she gushed, suffocating us both in a hug. I inhaled her scent of cinnamon, dizzy with surprise and happiness. I had wondered if I would ever see Kirah again. Her cheek was hot against mine, and her lips were chapped and swollen.

  “You’re sick,” I fretted. “Kirah, you’re burning up.”

  Better by the second, she Ray-spoke, and Sanjeet and I replied in our minds, coaxing the jaundice of council sickness from her skin.

  “I can’t tell you,” she whispered, “how good that feels.”

  “Your fever’s going down,” said Sanjeet, scanning her with
his Hallow. “Thank Am you’re no worse. How long have you gone without the Ray?”

  “Only two weeks.”

  “Only two?” I scolded. “You could have gone mad!”

  “That doesn’t happen for a month. At least, that’s what he says.” She tossed her head back at Woo In. “And he would know. But never mind that. Tar, I’ve never seen you wear your hair loose; it’s glorious.”

  Sleep had flattened my puffy coils. I pulled at the hair in fistfuls, restoring its cloud shape, then crossed my arms. “You won’t change the subject that easily,” I said. “Why are you traveling with Woo In? Why are you here at all? How did you find us?” My fingers rose, itching to seize the answers from her memories. “Is Dayo—”

  “Dayo’s fine,” she said, laughing and batting my hand away. “Only a scar left. And our whole council was summoned to An-Ileyoba, so I had to come fetch you and Jeet. As for Woo In—” Acid flashed in Kirah’s large hazel eyes. “Well. He’s using me. At least, that’s what he’s been telling himself.” She added in a stage whisper, “It’s not working out very well.”

  Woo In descended from his mount, haughtily graceful as always, but he winced at Kirah’s words. He looked . . . guilt-ridden.

  “What in Am’s name is going on?” I snapped at him. “What are you doing with my council sister?”

  He bowed, using that gossamer voice I had once known so well. “It has been too long, Lady’s Daughter.” He looked much sicker than Kirah, with sunken cheeks and dry, wan lips. Along with the purple veins of the Underworld, fever sweat shimmered on his bare chest. Coughing, he patted the emi-ehran’s flank. “You remember Hyung.”

  “Of course,” I said. “We met the night you tried to burn down a palace full of children.”

  Woo In stiffened, growing even more ashen. “We took measures to ensure none would die,” he replied. “No one except—”

  “An innocent boy who had never hurt anyone,” snarled Kirah.

  My brows shot into my hairline. “Wait. You know about Woo In setting the fire? Who told you?”

  “He did. He told me a lot of things. And for someone so determined to be free, he acts an awful lot like a puppet.”

  “I have nothing against your prince,” Woo In murmured. “Kirah, please. I was just following orders. I was trying to prevent more deaths—”

  “How do you even know Woo In?” I blurted, head swiveling back and forth between them. The tenderness in his tone, as well as the flush in Kirah’s cheeks, was beginning to make me uneasy. “I haven’t seen him since our council was crowned at Ebujo. And even then, I didn’t remember who he was.”

  “I met him on the road,” she replied. “He was following me—and he’s been spying on us! Remember how we used to sit on the Children’s Palace roof? He was there, all last year. Listening.”

  “Following orders,” he repeated wearily.

  If Kirah was right, then Woo In had heard my most vulnerable secrets: my dreams, lusts, worries. And by eavesdropping on us . . . I stiffened as Woo In stammered excuses at Kirah. In the last year, he had gotten to know her, as well. He had grown . . . fond of her.

  Sanjeet came to stand between them, scrutinizing Kirah’s right hand, which was heavily bandaged.

  “This is fractured,” Sanjeet growled, rounding on Woo In. “If you laid a hand on my council sister—If you threatened—”

  “Actually,” Kirah said calmly, “I threatened him. I first met Woo In on my way from Yorua. He stopped me in the road, so I pulled a knife. It didn’t come to blows then. He only wanted to know where Tarisai had gone, thinking the emperor might have taken her, like he took—” She broke off and gasped. “Oh, Tar. I’m so sorry—”

  “It’s all right,” I said. “We know what happened to The Lady.”

  “If he didn’t fight you, then what happened to your hand?” asked Sanjeet.

  “Oh—” Kirah winced at her fingers. “This happened yesterday. His face was denser than I thought.”

  Only then I noticed the bruise on Woo In’s cheek. “You punched him,” I said in shock. “Did he . . . Did he try to—”

  “Of course not,” Woo In rasped. “I would never disrespect a woman that way. I would never hurt Kirah in any way. I was just—”

  “He confessed about trying to kill Dayo,” Kirah said. “That’s why I hit him. Before that . . .” She frayed the edge of her prayer scarf. “We were getting along, actually.”

  Why would Woo In tell Kirah the worst thing he’d ever done? “Why are you traveling together?” I asked, shaking my head to clear it. “And how did you get here so quickly?”

  “Besides riding Hyung? We flew.” She paused. “I didn’t know anyone could fly until Woo In showed me. In Nyamba, we flew up a mountain at sunset. I’d never seen anything so—” She stopped, turning pink. “Anyway. He knew the way to Bhekina House, and I would never have found it without him. He didn’t have to bring me along, but he needed a way to influence you. At least, that’s what he said. So here I am: his leverage.” She beamed at me. “Is it working?”

  I laughed and Kirah smiled, though her expression hardened. For the first time, she rounded on Woo In.

  “You’re a fool to serve The Lady, you know,” she said. “So what if she promised to free the Redemptors? You don’t even know how she plans to do it—and you’ve served her for years! She doesn’t care about innocent Songland children, Woo In. For Am’s sake—she tried to kill Dayo. Her own nephew!”

  “She cares,” Woo In insisted. “You don’t know her.”

  “And you do?” Kirah snorted. “Is The Lady your lover or something?”

  “Don’t be absurd,” Woo In spat. Then he sighed, collecting his temper. “The Lady found me when I was a boy, Kirah. I had only just escaped from the Underworld. Everyone else saw a cursed child, but The Lady saw a son. She was a mother to me, and a friend.” He paused, staring hard at Kirah’s sandals. “I should not have tried to kill your prince,” he whispered. “I was young, and desperate, and I’m sorry. The Lady told me it was the only way. That to free the Redemptors, Olugbade and his line must be vanquished, and The Lady crowned—” He broke off, glancing at me in alarm.

  “Crowned empress,” I finished for him. “I know who The Lady is, Woo In.”

  Kirah peered at me, reading the surprise and guilt on my face. “Tar . . . How long have you known that you’re a Kunleo?”

  “How long have you?”

  Kirah exchanged a glance with Sanjeet over my head. “Years,” she admitted. “I mean, I didn’t know for sure until Woo In told me. But Jeet and I always suspected you had the Ray. Some clues were small: tics, mannerisms you share with Dayo. But there was something else. A haze around you sometimes, when you’re angry, or happy. Or sad.”

  I shifted my feet. “You shouldn’t have come looking for me. It isn’t safe.”

  “I didn’t have a choice.” Kirah searched her pockets and produced a calfskin scroll. The seal had been broken. “I had to make sure it was urgent,” she said. “Jeet, there’s one for you too. Our whole council has been summoned to the capital.”

  I scanned the familiar burnt script of Thaddace’s Hallow-writing.

  * * *

  IMPERIAL SUMMONS

  His Anointed Honor, High Judge Thaddace the Just, in the name of His Imperial Highness, Olugbade of Aritsar

  Bids Tarisai, Apprentice Delegate of Swana and High Judge Apparent

  To present herself at An-Ileyoba Palace

  In preparation for her First Ruling Ceremony

  Which shall take place

  On the 75th day of Dry Season.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 24

  “The seventy-fifth?” I said. “But that’s . . .” I counted in my head. “Four months from now. I’ve barely trained for six. Thaddace said my First Ruling wouldn’t happen for years.”

  Kirah looked suspicious. “What ruling does he expect you to pass?”

  I shrugged. “It’s stupid. ‘Orphan Day’: a holiday for rich people to spoi
l poor children before tossing them back on the streets.”

  “Sounds like a move to please the nobles,” Sanjeet said. “Maybe Thaddace needed a distraction from The Lady’s arrest. Something to amuse the court, so they don’t gossip about a second Raybearer.”

  “But why summon our whole council?”

  Sanjeet frowned at his scroll. “Looks like we all have duties. High General Wagundu wants me to drill with the emperor’s personal guard. Later this year, I’m to help lead a campaign.”

  Kirah cocked her head. “Against who? No one has attacked the continent in decades.”

  “Against our own people,” Sanjeet said grimly. “We’re to lay siege to any city that fails to comply with the Unity Edict.”

  Kirah shuddered. “The emperor summoned me to help Mbali write new chants of prayer,” she said. “All priests and priestesses are encouraged to adopt a Book of Common Song, faith traditions no longer separated by Clay, Well, Ember, and Wing.”

  “That sounds like a disaster. How could the emperor—” I began, but stopped when I remembered Woo In. It didn’t feel right to criticize Olugbade in front of someone determined to bring him down. I hated how the emperor had treated my mother, but the candidate catechism still echoed in my ears. “I’m sure the emperor and his council don’t mean to harm anyone,” I mumbled, correcting myself. “They only want peace.”

  “Peace,” Woo In said, “is different than silence.” His face had grown paler. Hyung’s yellow eyes flashed, and Sanjeet’s hand went again to his scimitar. But the beast only bent its massive head, licking Woo In’s cheek.

  When Woo In succumbed to a violent round of coughs, I gestured to Melu’s canopy. “You should lie down.” I still hadn’t forgiven Woo In for setting the palace fire, but we shared an uneasy kinship. We both had loved The Lady, and tried to kill for her.

  He nodded and staggered over to a pile of cushions, smiling. “Don’t worry, Lady’s Daughter,” he said. “Help is on the way.”

  Sanjeet’s head snapped up, locking on a figure approaching from Bhekina House: a rippling smudge of green. Energy crackled faintly in the air, almost like someone was . . . Ray-speaking.