by Jim C. Hines
Talia’s sword seemed to leap into her hand. “I came here before, years ago, with Sister Faziya of the Temple of the Hedge.”
“So we’re not worrying about subtlety this time?” Snow asked.
Uf’uyan glanced at Snow. He didn’t appear worried, but who could read the mind of a snake? “Your friends aren’t from Arathea, are they?”
Roudette yanked the hiqab from her body so violently the material tore. She pushed back her hood and pulled out her own weapon, twirling the hammer through the air. The red cape earned a longer look from Uf’uyan. “No games, naga.”
“I recognize you,” he said. This time Roudette could smell his fear. He inclined his head slightly. “Will you grant me time to pray, first?”
“I didn’t come here to kill you,” said Talia.
“Maybe you didn’t.” Roudette advanced toward the fairy priest. “Tell us where to find Zestan-e-Jheg.”
“Or what?” Uf’uyan asked. “You’ll kill me?” He laughed. “Strike then, Red Hood. Return me to Heaven.”
Talia caught her arm. “Not yet.” Stepping between Roudette and Uf’uyan, she said, “Faziya came here asking about the Wild Hunt. What happened to her?”
“Faziya was a kind woman,” said Uf’uyan. “Until last night, few people cared about the Wild Hunt’s raids on the Kha’iida. The settled people of the cities have turned their backs on their desert brothers. Many were secretly grateful to the Hunt. They hear rumors of Kha’iida raids, of children being stolen and caravans robbed, and they begin to believe Arathea would be better off without its ‘savage’ children of the sands.”
“Lies,” Talia said. “Kha’iida warriors used to raid neighboring tribes, but only to hone their skills and prove their superiority over their neighbors. Where’s the challenge in raiding a caravan of soft, spoiled merchants?”
Uf’uyan studied Talia more closely. “Like all things, the place of the Kha’iida has changed, particularly in recent years. But you remember those times, don’t you, Princess? I should have guessed your identity from your scent. The curse lingers in your blood.”
Talia beckoned Snow closer. “Can anyone else hear us in this place?”
Snow pointed to the brazier. “Roudette’s cape obscures it, but someone has been trying to eavesdrop.”
Uf’uyan chuckled. “Father Yasar. Hoping to learn the hidden secrets of the church, that he might rise to the rank of bishop. He’ll surpass me soon enough, I suspect. I’m afraid the church tends to reward ambition over faith these days.”
“You said the place of the Kha’iida has changed,” Talia said.
Uf’uyan lowered his body. “Our fault, at least in part. As more of Arathea turns to the church, there is less tolerance for those who reject it.”
Roudette spat. “You mean they reject fairy rule, so you turn Arathea against them. Will Zestan send the Hunt against all who refuse to worship her, then?”
“What have we done to you?” Uf’uyan asked. “How have I earned such hatred?”
Roudette didn’t answer. She remembered the screams of the dying, her own small hands digging through splintered boards and crushed stone. The cape fanned her rage, until it was all she could do to restrain herself from smashing Uf’uyan and this entire mockery of a church. “I’ve seen what your kind truly believe.”
“All who judge must also face judgment, child.” The calmness of his voice made Roudette want to strangle him. “The Wild Hunt kills because it is their nature. You kill because you enjoy it, targeting whomever you’re paid to hunt.”
“I enjoy some jobs more than others.” Roudette clutched her hammer with both hands, the leather grip creaking beneath her fingers.
Uf’uyan leaned toward Talia. “I will try to help you, as I did Faziya.”
“Then tell us where to find Zestan,” Roudette demanded.
“She has never deigned to visit Jahrasima in person. She works through her servants, human and fairy alike.”
Roudette spat. “Servants like you.”
“Zestan’s influence is strong, but not everyone believes as she does.” Uf’uyan smiled. “I’ve even heard rumors that it was a priest of the church who warned Queen Lakhim of the fairy plot against her.”
“What of Faziya?” asked Talia. “Where did you send her?”
“I told her to return to the temple,” he said with no hesitation. “She refused. She spoke instead of the raikh.”
“Rajil.” Talia’s expression was sour. “Will she know how to find Zestan?”
“I couldn’t say.” Uf’uyan sighed. “There are rumors she follows Zestan, seeing her as the savior of Arathea. If Faziya went to her . . .”
Roudette twisted her hammer in her hands, unable to stand another moment of that oily voice. “What do you gain from betraying your mistress, serpent?”
He actually laughed. “What could I possibly hope to gain for myself when you mean to kill me? I serve one master, and I help you because it’s my duty to do so.” He pointed to the desk. “Please bring me the scroll with the faded green ribbon.”
Snow walked over to pick up the indicated scroll, studying it before handing it over.
Uf’uyan unrolled the parchment to show an image of green mountains beneath a cloudless blue sky. The paint appeared cracked, lines running through the mountains. “Do you know what this is?”
“I do.” Roudette had seen similar illustrations growing up, though none had been as elaborately painted. “The church preaches that the fairy race fell to our world in Arathea, far to the south. The first fairy hill was no mound of earth ringed by toadstools, but a great mountain of green crystal containing all of your magic and power.”
Snow studied the parchment. “They say the peri retreated to the mountain after banishing the deev, that they remain there to this day.”
“Waiting to return to Heaven,” Uf’uyan said. “Look more closely.” He touched the cracks where the paint had flaked away. Instead of stained parchment, the missing paint revealed black shadows. “It’s said that if the faith of Arathea should fail, the peri’s home will crumble, and the deev will emerge from their underground prison.”
“Your point?” Roudette asked.
Uf’uyan picked up the torn remains of the scroll. “I believe Zestan-e-Jheg is a deev.”
CHAPTER 12
“IMPOSSIBLE.” TALIA SEARCHED UF’UYAN’S face for any hint of deception. Deev were monsters from childhood stories, nightmares hiding in the dark rooms of the palace where Talia and her siblings dared one another to go. “The deev were imprisoned, guarded by fairy magic and mortals both.”
“And what mortals were assigned that duty?” Uf’uyan asked.
Talia pressed her lips together. “The Kha’iida.”
“I hope I’m wrong. For if one deev can escape, others could follow.”
“Did you tell Faziya of your suspicions?” Talia asked.
“It was Faziya who planted the idea. We spoke of the Hunt’s attacks on Kha’iida tribes. She grew emotional, denouncing the Hunt’s cruelty, calling them no better than the deev. I asked if that might not be truer than we realized. She left shortly thereafter.”
“If she believed Zestan to be deev, she had no choice.” Talia glanced at the others. Snow’s brow was wrinkled, and Danielle looked lost. Switching tongues, Talia did her best to explain. “The deev were always stronger than the peri. According to the stories, the only reason the peri won their war is because we helped them. Peri magic created champions. Each tribe sent forth their strongest warriors. The peri enchanted those men, making them strong enough to face even the most powerful fairy. Each fighter received a weapon crafted to slay the deev. Those weapons have been passed down to this day. The peri won, but they weren’t able to destroy the deev. Instead, they trapped the deev deep in the earth. The peri retreated to the mountains, leaving the tribes to watch for the deev’s return.”
“The Kha’iida?” Snow asked.
Talia nodded. “In old Arathean, the word Kha’iida means oath
keeper: those who swore to guard this world against the deev.”
“That’s why Zestan has been sending the Wild Hunt against them,” Danielle said.
“Every Kha’iida is a threat to her.” Including Faziya.
Uf’uyan coiled and uncoiled his tail, the naga version of pacing. “The raikh keeps a fairy garden atop her mansion, tended by magic and inhabited by creatures from every corner of this world. I’ve seen it many a time, back before Rajil renounced my teachings in favor of Zestan. Her menagerie . . . those are not the shapes they were born to.”
Snow was whispering to Danielle, summarizing the conversation. She paused to ask, “You think Faziya was transformed?”
“Fairy magic,” Uf’uyan said. “Performed by Rajil’s adviser.”
“And you did nothing.” Talia was beginning to wish she had let Roudette finish off the priest.
“I’m not permitted to interfere with Siqkhab,” Uf’uyan said. “Human law is Rajil’s domain.”
“Talia.” Danielle’s voice was gentle, the way it always was when she was about to say something infuriating. “You have to warn Queen Lakhim.”
“Warn her of what?” Talia demanded. “That she should stop hunting me and search for a deev?” She whirled. “If Zestan is so damned powerful, why bother with me and my curse? Why not destroy Queen Lakhim herself?”
“The deev were strong,” Uf’uyan said. “Perhaps too strong. Like the peri, they relied on force, never mastering the intricacies of magic. A deev’s power could sink Lakhim’s palace into the earth, but such power would also reveal Zestan. Can you imagine the response should Arathea learn of her presence? It would unite all Arathea against her.”
“Which is precisely why you should warn Queen Lakhim,” Danielle said. “She has to know the truth.”
“Lakhim was never interested in truth.” Talia grabbed the scroll. “We’re going to the raikh’s mansion.”
Roudette straightened, raising her hammer in both hands. “What of him?”
Father Uf’uyan bowed. “I’ve told you all I can. My soul is ready.”
“No,” said Danielle.
“You can’t afford to leave me alive,” Uf’uyan said. “I understand, and you have my forgiveness.”
“He’s right.” Talia raised her sword. “Even if I trusted him not to betray us, fairy magic could rip our secrets from his mind. The risk—”
“So we bring him with us.” Danielle smiled as she studied the cage with Uf’uyan’s mice. “He’ll need to be smaller, of course.”
Snow patted the mouse in her pouch. “Don’t worry. The spell should wear off in a day or two.” Hopefully they would be long gone from Jahrasima by then.
She barely noticed the fairy illusions as Talia led them back through the tunnel. The church was mostly empty, save for a handful of people lost in silent prayer. The children who had carried the statues earlier were now busy sweeping the floors.
“I hope Father Uf’uyan was able to comfort your friend,” said Yasar, eyeing Roudette. She had pulled her robe back over her cape, but she moved like a warrior, not a leper. He was already moving toward the tunnel, no doubt to find Uf’uyan and try to learn what had blocked his attempt to spy on their conversation.
“I’m afraid she’s not one for comfort,” said Talia.
Snow glanced at Talia, who nodded. Snow smiled and followed Yasar back through the doorway.
She returned a short time later, a second, slightly battered mouse resting in her pouch with Uf’uyan. Snow stopped at the entrance to dip her hands in the water and wash her face. Transformation was a complex spell. Casting it twice in such short time was enough to bring her headache back in full force. She noticed the others watching her and forced a smile. “So where exactly would we find the raikh’s mansion?”
The heat made the pain even worse as she made her way out of the temple. She pulled her hood up to block the sun. The streets were noticeably less crowded than before.
“We’ll want to sneak in soon, if we can,” Talia said, leading them away. “Midday is the hottest part of the day. It’s a time of quiet, a time to enjoy a meal and a cool drink.”
The most obvious sign of wealth in the northern quarter was the abundance of water. The people here used water for decoration the way others used gold. Water fell past windows in tiny falls; it misted from grand fountains of black marble; it gleamed with reflected sunlight in long pools.
Humans and fairies alike hurried through the streets. A lamassu strode past, brown wings tucked back against her bull-shaped body. She barely seemed to notice the humans who backed aside, clearing a path for her.
“Do you think she’ll mind if I run up and pluck a feather?” Snow asked. “I’ve never seen a lamassu in real life, and I’d—”
“No.” Talia waited for the lamassu to pass, then pointed to a fresh pile in the street. “If you want a souvenir, you can take some of what she left behind.”
Snow made a face. Already a human boy was rushing out with a shovel to take care of the mess.
The raikh’s mansion sat on the end of its own road, surrounded by a stone wall. Men with curved swords stood unmoving at the gate, shaded only by the mulberry trees that grew alongside the road. Armor of overlapping metal rectangles, each the size of a playing card, covered the men from shoulder to mid-thigh.
The wall was little taller than the guards, topped by iron spikes. The mansion beyond was pure Arathean, with no sharp angles anywhere to be seen. The stone blocks fit together so cleanly the entire building appeared to have been cut from a single piece of orange sandstone.
The broad central structure was three stories, with a narrow tower in the back that rose twice as high. Secondary wings stretched forward from either side like arms reaching to encircle all who approached.
A small, circular balcony jutted out from the center of the building. Windows were thin but plentiful. Snow saw no glass, so it might have been possible to sneak in that way, if not for the difficulties of scaling the walls in the middle of the day.
“Rajil will have more men inside the doors,” Talia said.
“Human guards are the least of your worries.” Roudette pointed through the gate at the long, oval pool in front of the building. “Water nymphs. Three of them. They can’t stray too far from their fountain, but if they catch you, they’ll drag you under and drown you.”
By now, the two guards at the front gate were starting to pay attention to them. Talia stepped to the side of the road, into the thin shade of what smelled like a bath-house. “There will be guards around back as well, and the grounds don’t offer much in the way of concealment.”
“Where’s the garden?” Snow asked.
“Atop the central roof.” Talia cupped her eyes against the sun. “If you move back, you’ll be able to see the green of the trees peeking out over the walls on the roof.”
“Could Snow’s magic get us in?” Danielle asked. “What if you transformed us into birds?”
Snow laughed. “Have you ever flown before, Princess? Even if Roudette takes off that filthy cape long enough for me to cast the spell, it takes a long time to master wings. One wrong move and you’ll dash your brains against a wall.” She peered at the mansion, squinting until she discerned the ripple of fairy magic. “There are magical protections as well.”
“I was afraid of this.” Talia started back down the street, away from the mansion.
“Afraid of what?” Snow demanded. “Don’t tell me you’re giving up.”
Talia reached the intersection and glanced about, brows low. “When I was in Jahrasima, my . . . friends introduced me to other ways into various buildings. I was hoping to avoid them, but the sewers—”
“Arathea has sewers?” Danielle asked.
Talia made a face. “Another gift of the fairies. The lake circles Jahrasima, but there are a number of smaller reservoirs below the city. Hundreds of tunnels circulate clean water to the wells. Others carry waste to the edge of town, to be used as fertilizer on the farms.”<
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“I’m not breaking into a mansion smelling like sewage,” Snow said. “Can’t we go in through the wells?”
“Most wells are public.” Talia led them past a brown building that smelled like a bakery. “Even at midday, we’d never get in without being seen. The sewers are hidden away, out of sight. They’ll attract less attention.”
They ducked into an alley between the bakery and a butcher shop. Talia knelt beside a stone grate, the holes carved into the shape of a flower with oval petals around a central circle. The edges were stained a rusty brown.
Roudette wrinkled her nose. “Did I mention one of the gifts of the wolfskin is a strong sense of smell?”
Talia grabbed one side of the grate. “Roudette?”
Roudette growled deep in her chest, but she crouched to grab the other side. Together they wrenched the stone up and moved it to one side.
Snow tried one last time. “How do we know this will lead into the raikh’s mansion? She wouldn’t want a sewer grate within her own home.”
“She’ll have her own well,” Talia said. “The sewers will lead us to the reservoir.”
Snow blanched. “You mean the tunnels are all interconnected? Drinking water and sewage? What about the mist in the church? Please don’t tell me we were being sprayed with—”
“The wells are clean,” Talia assured her. “As pure as fairy magic can make them. The reservoir feeds the sewers, but the flow only goes in one direction. Come on, before someone finds us.”
Snow scowled. “This is the last time I let you plan the break-in.”
Talia stood with her feet braced on either side of the hole as she lowered Danielle into the darkness. She leaned forward, catching the edge of the hole with one hand. Danielle was heavier than she had been when she first escaped her stepmother, a result of better food, pregnancy, and the muscle she had gained from her training with Talia. “You should be able to see the bottom. It’s a short drop. Keep your legs bent.”