Red Hood's Revenge

by Jim C. Hines

  “So Faziya explained each time she brought you back to me,” said Khardija. “Each time I had to bind your wounds and set your bones. For what? Burning down one of the raikh’s warehouses? Robbing a royal caravan? You are a princess of Arathea, but you behaved like the petty nobles who snarled and fought over the bones of our land for the past hundred years, lashing out in anger and destruction with no larger goal until that anger threatened to consume you.”

  “These people were the closest thing I had to a family,” Talia protested.

  Mother Khardija brought one hand to her neck, massaging the pressure points to either side. “They were thieves and murderers.”

  “We fought Lakhim—”

  “Your petty crimes were nothing more than the bite of a fly. Do you know why Queen Lakhim fears you? It’s more than your curse. More than her need to avenge her son. She fears your power.” Rarely had Talia heard such urgency in Mother Khardija’s voice. She used this tone only when fighting to save a life. “She fears what will happen when Sleeping Beauty returns to Arathea. Her family has ruled but a handful of years. Yours ruled for three centuries. The people would rally to you, Talia. They would follow you.”

  Talia swallowed. “I didn’t come here to take back my throne, Khardija. Queen Lakhim isn’t the threat. Zestan and the Wild Hunt are.”

  Screams and hoofbeats from the street interrupted them. Talia drew her knife without thinking, but the rider was already thundering past the temple.

  “Faziya believed, as you, that Zestan and the Hunt were the greater danger.”

  “That’s why she left, isn’t it?” Faziya was no warrior, but she was clever. “She went to the church, didn’t she? To ask for their help to protect her people from the Hunt.” No one knew more of fairy history than the priests of the church.

  Mother Khardija sighed. “I might have been wrong when I tried to stop Faziya from helping you.”

  Both the unexpected admission and the change in subject threw Talia off-balance. “I don’t understand.”

  “Even as I tended your body’s wounds, I could see your soul growing stronger.” She knelt and began cutting the ruquq flowers. “I worried what the company of criminals would do to you. Looking at you now, seeing the woman you have become, I admit Faziya might have known your needs better than I.”

  Talia bent down to help, gathering the round flowers into a single pile. “What happened to her, Mother?”

  “When Sister Faziya failed to return, I went to the church myself. Father Uf’uyan was unavailable, but Father Yasar told me Sister Faziya had come to see them. He said Faziya was upset and had most likely returned to the desert.”

  Talia shook her head. “She wouldn’t leave without speaking to you.”

  “I agree.” She raised a dirt-smeared hand to Talia’s face. “I know you, child. Even now you think to smash down the doors of the church and beat the truth from the priests.”

  Talia was already rising. “Something like that, yes.”

  “Faziya may be beyond your help.”

  The words were like a sword sliding through her chest. “If so, the priests will need more than prayers to protect them.”

  The temple storeroom was as busy as Talia had ever seen, with sisters bustling past to pack everything they would need to care for their patients. Talia dodged to one side as a young girl emerged carrying a stack of blankets.

  Inside the storeroom, Talia helped herself to a dark gray silk shirt and a pair of black trousers. She chose clothes for the others and hurried back to her room, stopping only to grab food and drink from the kitchen.

  The cats still patrolled the entrance, but apparently they had accepted her as safe, as they allowed her to pass without waking Danielle.

  Talia changed in silence, leaving her sleeves open and loose to allow her to reach the knives on her forearms. The pants she tied off at the ankles. A black sash circled her waist, knotted on the left hip. She hoped fashion hadn’t changed too much in the time she had been away.

  She tucked a longer knife through the sash. Her zaraq whip balanced things out on the other side, hidden by the knot. Her sword went through the back where she could reach it with either hand. She draped a white cape over her shoulders, buttoning the top. Black tassels at the hem weighted the cape enough to hide her weapons from casual view.

  The sounds of the Wild Hunt had vanished. She glanced at her companions, reluctant to wake them. Snow in particular needed sleep after working so much magic the day before.

  The noise of the temple saved her that choice. With the Hunt gone, the sisters redoubled their efforts to evacuate the grounds. Footsteps hurried past, and the groans and cries of the patients soon filled the temple as people hobbled from their rooms on injuries not yet fully healed.

  Roudette was first to wake, bolting upright and staring at Talia for a moment before relaxing. Danielle followed, and finally Snow pulled her blanket over her head and mumbled, “It’s still dark!”

  Talia grabbed the edge of the blanket and yanked it away. “The Hunt is gone. If you won’t get up on your own, I’ll find something to help you. The desert is full of snakes and lizards that love to curl up with a nice warm body.”

  Snow glared. “Try it and I’ll turn you into one.”

  Roudette was already helping herself to the breakfast Talia had brought. Steam rose from a torn loaf of black-crusted bread. Several bunches of grapes sat nested between the loaves. On the back of the tray were two clay jugs, warm goat milk in one and beer in the other.

  Snow sniffed the jugs. “Beer for breakfast?”

  Talia grinned. “Welcome to Arathea.”

  Roudette snatched the beer and drank several huge gulps directly from the jug, following it with a huge bite of bread. “This bread tastes like gravel. Isn’t there any meat in this place?”

  Talia grabbed a handful of grapes, her mouth already watering. The sour taste made her smile. Lorindar’s grapes were too sweet. She helped herself to the milk next. Warm and thick, with a sweet aftertaste. It was far too long since she had eaten a proper breakfast.

  “Snow, are you strong enough for spellcasting?” she asked. Snow’s illusions had vanished after the fight with the hunter. “Foreigners are rare this deep in Arathea.”

  Still chewing, Snow gestured with one hand, restoring her disguises to Danielle and herself. “What about Roudette?”

  “Her skin is light, but she might pass for a northerner.” Talia circled Roudette. “That blonde hair will draw attention before we’re two steps out of the temple, and the cape has to go. Only the fairy folk wear such vivid colors.”

  “I wear this cape until the day I die,” Roudette said.

  Snow wrinkled her nose. “That would explain the smell. I didn’t want to say anything, but—”

  “Wait here.” Talia jogged through the hallway to the kitchen. She squeezed past two young girls who were busy packing food. Ignoring their protests, Talia snatched a pot and filled it with water from the cistern. She crushed several handfuls of tea leaves into the water and returned to the room.

  By now, Snow and Danielle had changed clothes, donning the plain shifts and capes Talia had brought. The sleeveless shifts would have been unseemly back home. Though the material covered both women from throat to ankle, the thin white linen left little to the imagination. Danielle was already buttoning her cape. The material was a dark green, almost brown in color. Large horn buttons ran from neck to waist, providing a bit of modesty.

  “I want clothes like yours,” Snow complained.

  Talia snorted. “Servant’s garb is the closest thing to invisibility you have. Unless you can lose your accent and change the way you move? You stand too far from people, and you look away too quickly. Even with your illusions, it wouldn’t take long for someone to notice there’s something not quite right about you.”

  Danielle smiled. “I notice that about her too.”

  Snow threw a grape at her.

  “Fix your hair,” Talia said. “You’ll want it b
raided or knotted back, unless you want to be mistaken for prostitutes. Keep the sheffeyah wrapped about your faces. Your skin might be the right color, but your features might give you away.” She set the tea on the floor. “Snow, can you heat that for me?”

  “Beer and milk weren’t enough?” Snow adjusted her choker. Sunlight shone from one of the mirrors. Moments later, the water began to boil, and the smell of tea filled the room.

  Talia shoved the pot at Roudette. “The tea should darken your hair enough to let you pass for Arathean.” That left only the cape. Fortunately, the temple had just the thing to go with it.

  The sun was rising as Danielle and the others made their way through the temple. Roudette followed a short distance behind, wearing an all-encompassing robe Talia called a hiqab.

  The robe was a filthy tan thing of camel hair. According to Talia, the hiqab marked Roudette as a leper. It had no sleeves, fitting over Roudette like an oversized sack with only a single ragged hole for her head. A deep hood hid her face, and the lack of sleeves prevented her from touching anyone, not that anyone approached that closely. Even the sisters moved to the side as Roudette passed.

  Mother Khardija stopped them at the main entrance. She kissed Talia’s forehead, then pressed a beaded purse into her hands. Snow translated her words for Danielle. “The church will expect a donation.”

  “I can’t take this.” Talia tried to give the purse back, but Khardija refused. Talia lowered her voice. “Even if the Wild Hunt spares the temple, you’ll need every scrap of gold to help those who were hurt in last night’s attack.”

  “I know you.” A smile eased Khardija’s words. “If I give you this, you’ll use it well. If I don’t, you’ll simply take what you need from random passersby on the streets.”

  Talia blushed, but she tucked the purse into the sash at her waist. “I don’t know when I’ll be able to repay you.”

  “Repay me by staying alive.” Khardija made shooing motions with her hands. “Be safe.”

  They joined the exodus leaving the temple, sisters escorting patients into the streets. Others in the black robes stood outside the gates, gently turning away those who had come for help.

  Talia shook her head. “I brought the Wild Hunt into her home, and she repays me in gold.”

  “She loves you,” said Danielle.

  “I know.” Talia looked back at the temple. “I just hope that love doesn’t get her killed.”

  As they departed the Temple of the Hedge, Danielle got her first real view of Jahrasima. In the darkness the night before, she had seen little more than shadows. This morning, with the sun already baking the air, she could make out every detail. Including the destruction left by the Wild Hunt.

  The rooftops were flat, thatched with straw that had turned brown from dust and sand. The windows were larger than those in Lorindar, covered only by shutters or heavy curtains. Stones were laid out on the borders of paths and property. Many of the homes had been in poor repair already. Mud bricks crumbled from the walls. Rats disappeared into the cracks and holes.

  The Hunt hadn’t bothered with subtlety. Stones were kicked aside, showing where riders had moved from house to house. Doors were smashed, shutters ripped from the windows, even whole walls had been knocked down.

  At one house, a little boy sat crying in a patch of dirt darkened by blood while an older girl tried to comfort him. “What happened there?” Danielle whispered.

  Snow tilted her head to listen as they passed. “The boy’s dog tried to protect him from a hunter.”

  “It will be worse tonight,” Roudette said. “This was but a fraction of the Wild Hunt’s power.”

  Danielle turned to look at Roudette. The hiqab’s hood shadowed her face, but it couldn’t hide the hatred in her voice. Roudette hadn’t hesitated to murder innocent people back in Lorindar, and she had delighted in the death of the hunter. But the aftermath of the Hunt had clearly shaken her.

  Roudette stopped to look at a larger house, one that had obviously been expanded over the years. The Hunt had trampled straight through the walls, and a group of men now worked to keep the rest of the building from collapsing.

  Their passage drew stares. Small, dirty faces watched from shadows and windows. The adults’ expressions were warier. Their glances lingered on Danielle’s sword. They spoke in low voices, if at all, as though they were afraid the sound might bring the Wild Hunt back to their city.

  “They’re all human,” Danielle said softly. “I thought fairies and humans lived together in Arathea.”

  “The fairies live in the northern part of town.” Talia slashed a hand through the air for silence as a young girl approached with a basket of dried figs. Talia took three, offering a pair of copper coins in return.

  The girl bowed and said something in Arathean. Talia grimaced, but repeated the words.

  “What did she say?” Danielle asked.

  Snow made a face. “Blessings of the peri be upon you.”

  “The peri?”

  “The first fairies,” said Snow, taking one of the figs. “They say the peri are the ancestors of all that’s good in fairykind, whereas the evil deev gave rise to the trolls and ogres, the goblins and giants. They fought for centuries—”

  “Using humans as their pawns.” Roudette’s voice was huskier than usual. “The ‘blessed’ peri hid in their mountains, sending mortals out to die against the deev. Some say their war scoured the land, turned Arathea into a desert. Be grateful they never spread beyond this land.”

  The road widened, dust and dirt changing to paving stones. The homes here were taller, their lines straighter. Grain bins topped the flat roofs like giant beehives. Heavy canopies stretched from the front of the houses, sheltering merchants on the street and inviting potential buyers to take advantage of the shade. This morning, many of the merchants sat alone, their wares untouched. They called out to passersby, but their energy was muted.

  Snow started toward one merchant who was showing off what looked like a baby dragon in a silver cage.

  Talia caught her sleeve. “No.”

  “But he’s—”

  “No.” Talia glanced at the dragon. “The scales are falling out, and he’s yet to belch a single spark. Do you really want a diseased dragon?”

  Snow pointed to another merchant, a woman surrounded by piles of brightly colored silk. “What about—”

  “No.”

  Snow folded her arms. “Fine. But when we’re finished here, I want a dragon.”

  “Who’s going to clean up after it?” Talia asked.

  “Enough!” Roudette swept past them. “Your prattling is worse than any fairy torment.” She stopped a short distance beyond, looking at a collapsed building. The small garden behind was trampled and blackened as if scorched. A small group was digging through the rubble. Roudette sniffed the air. “Three people were crushed when the walls fell.”

  “The Hunt wanted us,” Danielle protested. “Why would they hurt these people?”

  “Don’t look for reasons,” said Roudette. “The Wild Hunt were once men, but they’re more fairy than not now, reborn of chaos and whimsy and destruction. Place two identical children before them, and they’ll leave one untouched while their dogs savage the other. This . . . is restrained, for the Hunt.”

  “What did they do to you?” Danielle asked, her voice gentle.

  Roudette turned away, hiding within the darkness of her hood. “My grandmother tried to fight them. She failed. They killed everyone they could find. In a single night, they reduced my town to rubble and ash.”

  “I’m sorry,” Danielle said. Wails of grief broke the stillness as they walked. Danielle could hear the pain in the distant cries, even if she couldn’t understand the words. Men and women alike wept together.

  “At least my grandmother tried to fight,” Roudette said disgustedly. “Talia’s people have surrendered their magic. Obeying Siqlah and trusting God to protect them. Even after last night, look how few bother to carry weapons.”

>   Talia spun. “So they should have fought? The Hunt would have slaughtered them all, just as they did your people.”

  “Instead they surrender their souls to the fairies,” Roudette said.

  “That’s enough.” Danielle and Roudette stared at one another until Roudette snorted and turned away.

  Talia moved on without answering, leading them another block to a stone bridge that crossed a canal. On the far side of the bridge, the streets were paved with white stone. Sandstone statues with horned helms and inhumanly narrow features bordered the road. Fig and olive trees grew behind the statues, shielding the homes and buildings beyond. Small whirlwinds blew through the street.

  “Air dervishes,” Snow said. “Fairy sprites, sweeping the dust from the roads.”

  Roudette snarled at one of the dervishes. When it approached too close, she jumped forward and stomped on it, moving too quickly for the sprite to dodge. It burst in a small explosion of dirt and dust. “Ha!”

  Slowly the sprite re-formed, gathering the worst of the dirt back into itself. Roudette growled, and it raced away.

  Danielle might not speak the language, but she could read the disapproval in the faces that turned to watch. “You probably shouldn’t do that again.”

  The populace here seemed an equal mix of human and fairy. A wrinkled dwarf rode a white donkey through the street. A man whose body seemed made of black smoke drifted past, his feet leaving a faint trail of soot. A yellow-skinned woman walked by conversing with a hooded serpent draped around her neck. Everywhere the fairies traveled, humans moved aside to let them pass.

  “Maybe Arathea deserves to fall to the fairies,” Roudette said.

  Talia stiffened but didn’t break stride.

  Before Roudette could say anything further, Danielle caught her arm and pulled her to the side of the road. “Snow’s fairy mark prevents you from harming us. Which means there’s little you can do to defend yourself when Talia decides she’s had enough. So by all means, continue to insult her home and draw attention to us. See how much longer her patience lasts.”

  “Be grateful that mark protects you, Princess.” Roudette pulled away. “Show me one fairy who suffered so much as a bruise last night. This is—” Her voice broke. “This is what my home was like. Few of the ‘blessed race’ lived among us, but the blind respect and worship was the same. Time and again my mother warned me not to stray from the path as my grandmother had done. We followed the path of the fairy church, and it destroyed us. I’ve no sympathy for those who embrace fairy lies.”