Teeth of the Gods

by Sarah K. L. Wilson

  Like every other time that night, I fled into the world of the meditation, but this time there was someone there. The ancient woman in the peculiar clothing. An’alepp. She wasn’t chanting, just sitting in mediation position as I panted and tried to ignore the outward pain. Hours ago, Amandera had started beating me even as I meditated. ‘Because maybe then you will learn focus,’ she had said.

  “You are in pain, girl,” An’alepp said, but without compassion. “I have been watching you from afar.”

  “Great. I’m glad someone is entertained,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “Your pain does not please me. Though it serves a purpose.” She looked like she was weighing me with her eyes. Did she plan to sell me by the pound?

  I concentrated on trying to find the peaceful connection all the others spoke of. Peaceful! Ha! How were you supposed to be peaceful when you were being beaten half to death? Of course I couldn’t find a connection—hadn’t been able to all night—although the white threads or strands that I saw before were growing larger and stronger so that they almost blocked out An’alepp.

  “Where are my other ancestors?” I asked. “The one night I need them and they are nowhere to be found.”

  “They cannot help you now.”

  I thought one of the strongest curse words I knew in her direction.

  “No one can help you. Except maybe whoever is doing this to you.”

  “I will kill her.” My breathing began to calm as I considered it. “I will take her flesh slowly from her body.”

  “You could try boiling her slowly in a large pot,” An’alepp said. “It’s what I did to my first husband.”

  I gaped.

  “You need to become tougher or you will be useless to us,” An’alepp said, still sitting in a peaceful meditation pose despite her vile words. “The woman wringing you has the right of it.”

  “Wringing?”

  “That’s what we called it in my day.” Had she ever had a day? She looked older than the earth. “Wringing. There were some born with a lesser magic in them. Others had great potential, but the barrier was too difficult to cross on their own. It required wringing. We would use pain and pressure to wring everything out of them except for that spark. It is hard work to wring a girl. This woman must be fond of you.”

  “She hates me,” I said through gritted teeth. I could still feel the pain beyond the meditation.

  “Perhaps she means to use you. But you should still be grateful, fool child. The wringing will produce in you a strength greater than you could imagine.” She squinted hard at me, and then hobbled over until our eyes were an inch apart. She studied me intently. How did a spirit’s breath smell so potent? “You have more spark in you than I have seen in many generations. When she has done her work, I will return to instruct you. Until then, keep what you can. She will take all else from you.”

  An’alepp vanished and I resurfaced into the living world. The sides of the tent were paler. The sun was rising.

  The threads of embroidery on the rug stood out in their golds and greens, close to my face. I struggled to sit up, but my arms were too weak and I collapsed.

  Amandera cleared her throat. She didn’t even sound tired. “Get dressed, Tylira, run your twenty laps, and then meet me at the palanquin. We have many miles to travel today and you must walk beside the palanquin while you practice your meditations and try once more not to shame me with your lack of talent.”

  “I can’t walk!” I said, lifting my head an inch above the rug so I could speak clearly. “I can hardly move. I haven’t slept in twenty-four hours.”

  “I don’t require lessons in counting, child. You will walk or I will butcher that atrocious pet of yours.”

  I gasped. Alsoon!

  Amandera smiled slightly. “There. I thought that would get your attention. Clean yourself. Bind any wounds you must and then meet me at the palanquin in one hour. Your guards are already waiting to roll up this tent.”

  She left with a rustling of silks and I eased myself up, moaning from the pain of a half-dozen lacerations and hundreds of bruises. Would she beat me to death before I even saw Al’Karida?

  I bandaged the wounds that bled and then stumbled out of the tent and ran my laps around a slowly wakening camp. Hopefully no one could see me in the rising dawn. Most of them were poking embers to get the cook fires hot enough to make tea and porridge or complaining in low voices about sleeping out on the ground. Sleeping! Who could complain about that?

  I returned to the tent, not daring to sit on the bed. I wouldn’t be able to get up again. Instead, I washed as well as I could with the tiny allotment of water I had and struggled into my sarette, no longer proud to wear the gorgeous azure silk or to show my purple bruised midriff to the world. I dug into my pack and pulled out a pair of leather shoes. I would need as much protection as I could give my toes if I was to try to walk while in a meditation trance.

  I left the tent with as much agility and grace as An’alepp had shown. Did she walk with such a limp because every muscle of her body was screaming with pain? Mine certainly were. Maybe that was why she was so cranky. It just figured that Amandera the beautiful would add hundreds of years to my looks.

  Jakinda gasped when she saw me come out of the tent. Good. She should see what her torn loyalties had cost me. I was disappointed when she schooled her face to a blank expression.

  “We are honored by your sacrifice, Tazminera. All of your guard anticipates that you will make us great and renowned with the talents the High Tazminera is helping you to develop.”

  “Don’t talk to me, traitor,” I said, holding my head as high as I could. She should see that she had failed her charge. Honored? The cheek!

  I found the nearest cook fire and helped myself to clean water and some porridge. Eating felt like too much energy, but I would need what strength I could muster.

  “Who did this to you?” I couldn’t mistake that baritone.

  I looked up from my porridge into the honey-liquid eyes of the man from last night. The dawn light warmed the dark lines of his face. He must walk very quietly, because I hadn’t heard him approach and he was right in front of me, looming over me.

  “I said, who did this to you?” he said again, his voice edged with danger.

  “It’s my own business and none of yours,” I said, swallowing down a gulp of water. It was so cool compared to my flaming cheeks. What would Amandera do if he spoke to her this way?

  “I’ll make him pay a thousand times over.”

  I laughed. “She is the vision of beauty who leads this caravan, and neither you nor any other man can stop her unless you possess an army greater than the one you see.”

  His eyes widened. That was nice. Everyone always knew things I didn’t and threw them in my face. For once it was my turn.

  “Leave with me.” His eyes were filled with determination and his husky voice made me wish he really could save me. “If we left now we could get a head start and be beyond the horizon before they knew we were gone.”

  It was a tempting proposition. Free and on the run with a beautiful man. Who could ask for more? But if I left with him I would have to run forever and even that might not be long enough. The High Tazmin would find me and punish me.

  “I am the Lesser Tazminera Tylira Nyota.” He might try to ‘rescue’ me on his own if I wasn’t firm. “I do not need your help or your pity.”

  His fists bunched beside him and he glanced quickly to the right and then the left. Was he angry? I didn’t care. At least he wouldn’t end up as a corpse in the wilderness while I begged for my life on the steps of the Ivory Palace.

  “Lesser Tazminera,” he said, bowing low and then leaving at a walk so quick it could almost be called a run.

  I sighed, put the cup and bowl down, and walked to the pickets. I had a few more minutes.

  Alsoon greeted me with a muted trumpet and I leaned my forehead against his great one.

  Ride, he said.

  Soon, I promised.
/>
  Fast, he said, sending a vision of the two of us racing towards the horizon.

  I breathed deeply, my heart racing towards the vision. I wished we could run away together, but I’d just turned down an even more appealing offer.

  Someday, I said, but even I knew better than to believe it.

  Amandera was waiting at the palanquin when I arrived, pouring out her jasmine tea. The smell reminded me of pain and turned my belly. I swallowed hard to keep the bile down. Dangling from the palanquin was a long red silk cord.

  “Tie it to your waist so you don’t wander off the path as you mediate,” she said. “And remember, if you refuse to walk, I kill the elephant.”

  Boiling oil. So hot that she would crackle when she dropped in and would smell like cooking pork. That’s how I’d kill Amandera if I had to pick just one way.

  Chapter Eight: Lightning

  Tired. So tired. Must not sleep. I stumbled and flailed my arms, catching my balance just in time to keep from falling...again. The silk tether yanked hard against my waist. My skin, raw and chafed beneath it, flared with pain. Where was I? Oh yes. The caravan of Amandera, High Tazminera and favorite consort of the High Tazmin. Amandera liked to drink tea. Tea would be so soothing right now. To rest and sip tea. To rest, head heavy on the...

  The cord tugged again and I gasped awake, stumbling as I came back to consciousness. Ahead of me the horses of our vanguard kicked up choking dust that piled up along the road and filled my lungs. Behind me the clopping of horse hooves, buzz of voices and clatter of equipment had become a steady constant, almost soothing. No one else suffered, instead they stole furtive glances in my direction. Some with frowns and wide eyes, but others with small smirks and hands over their mouths. Oh, how the mighty had fallen.

  The old lady said I would be wrung. That was painfully accurate. Right now I felt exactly like a dry cloth with every drop of life wrung out of it, but still An’alepp had not returned to my meditation. If only I could cry, I would. My puffy eyes itched now that all my tears were cried out. My mouth was sandpaper. My head, lead. My feet uncoordinated as if they had forgotten they belonged to me at all.

  “Ho, Gracious and Honored Tazminera!” a voice called. I did not look up. My vision blurred and faded, but when it was clear I concentrated on my feet, trying not to stumble. Other words were spoken, but they were lost to me. Horses approached at a trot and the squeak and jangle of tack told me someone was dismounting.

  “You may join me in my palanquin to share your news,” the Tazminera said from above.

  “Who is she?” a voice muttered from among the new arrivals. “A pet?”

  Did he mean me?

  “No one treats a pet like that. A prisoner,” another said.

  “Hush. She is the Tazminera’s and none of our concern. Captain Rabashad told us to return to the vanguard.”

  A horse snorted and then there were hoof beats again. I stumbled on in my fog. Who was I? Oh yes. Tylira Nyota. Did that matter? Perhaps not.

  From above snippets of conversation drifted down into my fogged mind.

  “...prepared to report on all things of pertinence to my lady... The High Tazmin has quelled the Kosad Plains ... Yes, all of them.”

  “...wiped out?” Amandera’s crystalline soprano made even death sound pristine.

  “A son...hiding...seize him.”

  I drifted into my meditation. White thread-like strands dominated everything as if the whole of the landscape and sky were woven with them. Every time I fell into the meditation world since morning their weavings had grown more and more intricate and defined. They wove around everything and made it look as if the entire world was knit from white wool. For a moment I thought I saw An’alepp woven with white strands but then I stumbled back into reality.

  I fell this time, face first in the dust. Dirt filled my nose and mouth. I coughed and lost my balance, stumbling over the cord as I scrubbed at my face to clear the dust from my nose and eyes. I was too tired to care about the new stabs of pain in my hands and knees or the red cord tugging against my smarting waist. I scrambled back to my feet and shuffled forward, tugged by the cord and the pace of Amandera’s mount. Spitting dust, I cleared my mouth.

  Ahead of me the caravan snaked up the road, light glittering off weapons and armor and the dark shadows of the surrounding palms painting stripes on the road. Over the distant hills lay Al’Karida. Would we reach it soon? Surely Amandera must stop this when we arrived. But would she? Would she ever stop?

  “...you will be the delight of the dances. The Lesser Tazmin has decreed you are to be the star of his Sa’saranda. He has had a sarette made for you of the evening sky with diamonds for stars.”

  Amandera’s voice was low and soft in reply. A dress of the starry sky. Fitting for a woman colder than ice and with a heart blacker than a clouded night. I bit my lip and tasted blood. Good. The sharp sting should keep me focused a few minutes longer.

  “General Komorodi is five days from Al’Karida. He bid me inform you that he will meet you in the assigned place exactly as planned. He requested that I beseech you to enjoy the celebrations. He will take care of any details for the girl’s binding. You need only entertain yourself and not worry about anything at all.”

  “I am well entertained, Captain.”

  I slipped into meditation again. Something was different this time. I could still see the threads that wove everything together, but they were no longer white. They were the colors of the things they wove – the dusty path was woven of brown and the sky of various blues. So fine were the threads now that if I unfocused my eyes I could not see them at all, but I knew they were there. That everything was woven of them. They pulsed with energy, inviting me to reach out and touch them.

  “And now you see it.”

  I started at An’alepp’s croaking voice and spun to look at her. “Where others ‘sense’ the Common threads that bind all living things, you can now see the weavings, child. The bindings. Do you still hate the other girl for bringing you such clarity?”

  “Yes!” I would hate Amandera until I was nothing but bones clean of flesh and dry as dust.

  She shook her head and ‘tsk’ed. “Foolish girl chasing after baubles and flashing lights instead of taking the sword offered her. In my day, we would have wrung you years ago. You have the potential for so much more, if it can just be squeezed from your mind.”

  “Yes, I can see how the torture was worth it. Now I can see all the pretty art,” I said, crossing my arms and sneering. An’alepp was the fool, not me.

  She snorted. “It’s beyond your ability to grasp the worth of what has been gifted to you. Fools always discount what they cannot understand. Your mockery is only evidence of your ridiculousness.”

  “I want Oma Evereed and Ada Betina back,” I said.

  “They gave up on you. Only I see the potential you have and am willing to risk myself to help you. Think about that and perhaps you will learn to show some respect.”

  “Risk yourself?” I asked, frowning.

  “Did I say that? I suppose I really am getting old.” She smiled slightly and vanished.

  I clenched my jaw. She was almost as infuriating as Amandera. Perhaps An’alepp was Amandera’s ancestor, too. They had that same frustrating half-smile.

  Perhaps if I concentrated I could teach myself what to do with these threads. Even now they grew smaller but more plentiful, so that I could only just see them as I stared and traced their patterns across everything. I walked across to a pool in the meditation world, wishing that I could alleviate my parched throat, but my thirst was real and the meditation world could not help. The waters were still cloudy and turbulent like my heartstone.

  What if I made the pool my heartstone? What if I reached out to it with all my desires? It, too, was woven with a hundred thousand swirling threads.

  Without thinking, I reached out and plucked at one, somehow pulling it free and gripping it within my spirit-hand. It writhed and shivered, trying to get back to th
e pattern it came loose from. I held it tightly as it became eel-like. And then, like a flash, it escaped my grip and leapt back towards the pattern of threads.

  Something welled up within me and then the meditation world vanished and the real one hit me like a rock thrown to the head. I spun, hands held out in front of me while from them bolts of lightning crackled and shot outwards. Was this real? Was there actual lightning spinning out of my hands or was I still in the meditation?

  I fell backwards into the dust, stunned and unable to stop the flow of lightning that filled me and crackled from my fingertips. It was real! This was real magic, a real link to the Common like I’d never seen before! It felt so natural, like blinking my eyes.

  All the rest of the world seemed suddenly to grow dark. The only light was that of the power flowing from me. I was doing it! I was connected to the Common! If this was what it felt like, it was a wonder that anyone ever stopped! The way the little lightning bolts crackled along my fingertips gave me shivers of pleasure. I felt more alive than I ever had before. The lightning fuelled me and gave me back all the energy I had lost. I could run all the way to Al’Karida and never feel the strain.

  A smile spread across my face, and my heart sped up with anticipation.

  High above me in the dark palanquin Amandera looked down with a grim expression. Her palanquin curtains whipped around her and her long black hair swirled in a sudden wind, making her appear like a great black bird of prey. Beside her a Captain of the High Tazmin’s armies sat, a look of shock on his face that shifted to pain and horror.