by Tia Reed
The bully would nitpicked every inconsequential error for a whole fifteen minutes on a move Aqua Crystal had drilled for a mere five. What a bore of lesson.
“You are not concentrating,” Tokver said with a whack across the shoulders that had no part in the manoeuvre they were practicing.
Vinsant threw down his stick. “You’re not teaching,” he said and stomped out of the room. He would happen to pass Fenz in the tunnel just outside the room. The minekeeper was leading a pair of mahktashaan with a bundle of odd looking hand weapons in their arms.
“What happened?” Fenz asked, the question sharp.
“Usual bad timing,” Vinsant muttered.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
Fenz directed his attention into the room. “Why is the apprentice limping?”
Vinsant risked a glance. Tokver was standing at entrance, his face a mix of fear and fury. The two assistant mahktashaan brushed past him into the room.
“A lesson in respect, Mahktashaan.”
“Apprentice.”
Vinsant threw his head up in despair, turned and hobbled over.
“What disrespect did you pay this mahktashaan?”
“None.”
“You dare deny it?” Tokver snapped.
“Yes. I do. You just want to get back at me for yesterday.” He glared with the intensity of Dindarin.
Tokver raised the stick that was still in hand.
“Hold!” Fenz ordered. He placed a hand on Vinsant’s shoulder and pushed him out of the way, like he was a toddler or an incompetent apprentice or something. “Find Padesh of the beige crystal and have him tend your injuries.” He waited until Vinsant had turned a corner before laying into Tokver.
Vinsant leaned against the wall. This he would relish too much to forgo. The aching bruises which covered his body could wait. He chuckled as he listened to Fenz heap abuse on Tokver.
“Explain yourself.”
“He’s a disrespectful brat who enjoys pushing the boundaries. Every mahktashaan has the right to discipline the apprentices.”
Vinsant thumped his fist against the rock. One day he was going to have enough status among these men to pick on Tokver until he begged for mercy.
“But not to abuse them. You would do well to remember that apprentice is both a prince and chosen by Mahktos.”
Thump. Thump. Thump. Why did it always come down to being a prince? The mahktashaan should favour him just because Mahktos did.
“He’s suffered worse from the majoria.”
“That is the majoria’s prerogative.”
“He uses his status as an excuse.”
“In your evasive answers, you skirt perilously close to contempt yourself.”
Tokver was silent.
“How did the apprentice disrespect you?” Fenz demanded, in a change of tone that suggested Vinsant was in for it, which just wasn’t fair.
“This is between Mahktos, the apprentice and me,” Tokver said.
“Your accusations have gone too far for that, mahktashaan. In my mines, you will answer to me. Mahktashaan!”
Footsteps marched towards Fenz. “Detain Mahktashaan Tokver. He is to serve a week in the mines.”
“I will not!” Tokver said. “I will not suffer for the sake of a disrespectful brat.”
A scuffle broke out. Vinsant shook his head. The man was crazy, to even try to avoid Fenz’s punishment.
“Have a care, mahktashaan. Mahktos is an exacting master.”
Feet marched while others dragged over the ground.
Tokver broke into a high-pitched torrent. “You will regret this. He breaks all our laws. He steals crystals from under your nose, uncovers secrets no apprentice should know, claims the Eye as his own and chooses to wipe my nose in it all. He orders me about as though I am his servant, taunts me with my duty and does it all under the guise of Mahktos’s will. Without me, there won’t be a single mahktashaan who can witness his crimes.”
The pause dragged on this time.
“Your disloyalty has sealed your fate, mahktashaan. You are ordered to make atonement. Your fate is in the hands of your god. Release him.”
Tokver stormed past, not even seeing him there. Vinsant tagged a discreet distance behind. It figured the bighead headed to the temple. He’d bet a bowl of roasted nuts against no afternoon snack he had some ritual of forgiveness to complete. He might as well get it out of the way too. No chance an apprentice was going to get away with answering back a mahktashaan, no matter who he was.
The ginormous cavern was lit by the pillars ringing it. Vinsant hadn’t noticed that fragments of crystal had been incorporated into the animal and plant motifs on the corbels and along the serrated arches before. Their illumination was as cool as all the light balls Levi had set above the triple statue.
“You told,” Vinsant said as Tokver paused under the arch, a statement, not an accusation. He needed to make this right. Seeing as the crystals in that arch went out with their presence, it wasn’t going to be an easy task.
Tokver’s fists were curling and uncurling, just like at his induction. “You have no right to the mysteries you seek.”
“Mahktos decreed,” he started. Tokver flicked him such a look of hatred, his mouth turned dry.
“I spent my life deferring to my older brothers, my father, my grandfather, my uncles. Here I thought I might command a measure of respect, but I find I must defer to a boy. It is too much. Mahktos cannot ask this of me.”
Tokver walked across the crimson floor. Someone had swept away all the herbs and seeds, but Tokver was so hesitant he could have been trying to avoid crushing them.
“Release me!” Tokver called. His cry echoed around the chamber.
A rumble set the walls shaking. The torches went out. Lightning cracked through the room. In one jagged flash of light, Tokver’s hood came down. In the next, the strap holding his crystal snapped off his neck. It floated before him, flooding the chamber with lime-green light. The eyes in the statue blinked to life. Mahktos rolled them down onto Tokver’s white face. The bully dropped to the floor and kowtowed over and over.
You have failed me, came a rumbly voice not quite in Vinsant’s head, not quite out.
I’m sorry, Vinsant began.
In a flash of white light, Tokver’s crystal shattered. Its pieces clinked against the floor.
Vinsant dropped to his knees and joined Tokver in obeisance. What he wanted to do was run as far from this temple as his legs would carry him.
Give us another chance, he pleaded.
Your first obligation is to me.
Vinsant’s body became light enough to float away. The walls rumbled but no words sounded in his mind. This message was private. Beside him, hunched over, face down, arms out in front of him, Tokver was shaking.
Stand, Mahktos commanded. Vinsant jumped to obey.
Tokver remained on the floor, sobbing. “Forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me.”
“Get up,” Vinsant mumbled.
You have failed in your duty. Stand.
On his knees, Tokver scuttled from the eye’s line of sight. “No. This was unfair. Please no.”
“Um, it was my fault. I didn’t mean –” Vinsant said to the air between Tokver and Mahktos.
I will not ask again. Stand.
Vinsant’s stomach lurched. Tokver got halfway up before his legs gave way and he fell to his hands and knees. Crimson beams of light shot from the diamond pupils of the ruby eyes, straight into Tokver’s own. With a wracking, gurgly spasm, he collapsed, rolling so his glazed, brown eyes stared up at the statue.
Vinsant gulped. Tokver didn’t breathe. “Tokver,” he whispered. This nightmare couldn’t be happening. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t just leave. He didn’t think he had the will to take even one step. He had to breathe, and wonder how much time was passing. Or maybe he had to explain everything to the mahktashaan entering the temple. Exce
pt he didn’t have any words in his mouth. And the mahktashaan had stopped just beyond the arched entrance, half a world away. The arches had dimmed. He hoped it was out of respect. It could have been out of fury.
The mahktashaan glided across the floor and knelt by Tokver. He placed his hand on Tokver’s forehead. The pull of magic didn’t light his crystal. His violet crystal. Tokver’s lime green one dissolved and disappeared.
“I’m sorry,” Vinsant whispered.
Fenz turned such a furious look on him, Vinsant wanted Mahktos to strike him down. He struggled to breathe as the minekeeper muttered an ancient chant over Tokver. At its lengthy end, the minekeeper bowed his head. “It is as You will. All praise to You.”
Fenz stood, and turned to him. “You hold blame for this,” he hissed. The jab of his finger accused. “Had you shown respect in your trust, Mahktashaan Tokver might have come around.”
Vinsant’s eyes almost popped out of his head. “But I didn’t. . . Mahktos told him. . .”
Fenz bowed low to Mahktos, dropped to his knees and kowtowed trice over on the crimson floor. When he rose, he did not face Vinsant, but gazed up at the stone eyes of the god. “I wish you gone from here, apprentice. You must leave within the hour. The mines are barred to you. Until the reckoning of your induction, you are not welcome here.”
Vinsant thought the earth had opened under him when Fenz turned and glided out. Above him, stone eyelids ground closed over diamond and ruby eyes.
✽ ✽ ✽
The stench of the plain grew thicker with each passing hour, drawing swarms of buzzing flies. Even the horses were drooping their heads. Kordahla held the rag she had torn from one of Mariano’s shirts over her mouth. She had wrapped the bulk of the fabric into a crude cover for her hair.
“Where is your veil?” her brother had asked as they prepared to leave their camp at red break of day.
Her silent look had implied she did not know. That had sent him striding, through the men packing up their bedrolls and their simple eating utensils, to Arun.
“Princess,” the minoria had enquired, standing an appropriate distance apart. A faint glow pulsed within his crystal. He had placed a hand over the stone, his eyes dulling in concern. “What mischief has the genie wrought?”
She gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head, Vinsant’s name on her silent lips. Arun caught it. He raised his head far enough for his hood to fall to his hairline. She was sure he had intended to reveal his face. He must know she was desperate to trust.
“Princess. I will keep your confidence, but tell me what transpired last night.”
“Vinsant,” she whispered, scared for what might have happened.
Arun’s cerulean eyes lost their focus. When they found it again, they looked into hers. “Prince Vinsant does not respond, but I sense it is a wilful snub. His teachers will whip his hide if he loses concentration during training. We will try again tonight.” He allowed her the time to swallow her disappointment. “Princess, did you deal?”
This asking vexed her so. She covered her face with her hands and bowed her head.
“Kordahla.” His hand was on her arm. Somewhere a man spat. Another snarled a garbled word. Mariano was already striding towards her.
“You will unhand her,” Mariano said, even as Arun’s hand left her. “Well?” he demanded as Arun turned to him.
“She is ignorant, Your Highness, but my crystal sparks. The camp holds the taint of the djinn.”
Mariano’s gaze swept over every single man. Ahkdul and Kahlmed were already mounted, too eager to drag her into their lair by far. Quis was throwing dirt on the embers of their fire, while Brailen lay on the grass watching the cloudy sky and mumbling about how no one appreciated him.
“That veil is jinxed,” her older brother said.
“It was Mother’s,” she blurted, regretting the giving of it. Her little brother was careless with his clothes, and this veil was an irreplaceable treasure.
“You will stay close to her,” Mariano said to Arun, glancing at Ahkdul, who was watching the exchange through narrowed eyes.
Arun remained unperturbed. “Might I steady her, Your Highness?”
“Touch her again outside my immediate presence and I will be forced to discipline you both.”
And so they had begun the ride that would see them at a way station on the Bahmar River at day’s end. She returned to the cold comfort of silence, and the lukewarm security of having Arun ride close. When Mariano brought his horse abreast, the minoria began a gentle exchange about her brothers’ spirited exploits. Her ears were traitors to listen, but Mariano’s laughter was a balm which brought the ghosts of a happier time to bear.
“Your Highness,” they were interrupted by one of the soldiers riding flank. He pointed into the sky. Despite the utter stillness of the air, a green length of fabric billowed ahead of them.
Kicking his horse into a canter, Arun followed the drifting veil. She stared at the cloth. If Vae’oenka willed, it would fall into his hands. She could not help her rapid breaths when the air around her had turned stinging cold.
Mariano looked hard at her. “Minoria,” he called, taking her reins. She tensed to prevent another shiver, but her brother had noticed the way the hairs on her arms had risen. “A still wind blows,” he said when Arun returned to their side.
The minoria instructed two soldiers to give chase. “I do not. . .” He trailed off, frowning, as she, who had always been sensitive to the presence of the djinn, shivered again. His crystal glowed.
“Djinn,” Kahlmed cried, pointing with his sword to the grey sky.
Cerulean light flared.
The little rose genie dipped after the veil. Ahkdul and Kahlmed spurred their horses into a gallop. Arun and several of the soldiers made quick pursuit. Mariano kept a firm hand on her reins. Catching the veil, the rose genie laughed. Kordahla’s horse shied, pulling free of her brother’s grasp. Even as she brought it under control, her breath puffed in a white cloud. Her eyes dropped down, and she swallowed. The rose genie, no taller than her hand, stood on the withers, a finger to her lip. Kordahla risked a glance at Mariano. His attention had drifted to the veil. It was floating to the soggy grass. The mounted men gathered around it in a sombre parody of that fateful day at the souk.
“Mahktos said you would miss it,” the rose genie said. She was small enough to be hidden from her brother’s view.
“I will not deal.”
The genie grinned. “My taking it was not part of our pact. So now I have an excuse to visit.” She became solemn. “So he won’t suspect.”
She had one concern, one care greater than the veil. “Vinsant?”
“He beat a kaidon.”
Kordahla took a sharp breath.
“I helped,” the genie said.
“Why do you plague us?”
The genie looked about to cry. Arun was trotting over, her veil streaming out of his hand. Mariano rode out to meet him. The genie’s eyes went wide.
“You must tell Vinsant he is not the wielder of the Eye. Mahktos said so.”
Kordahla’s hands were shaking. “I don’t know what you mean.”
The kneeling genie placed her tiny hand on Kordahla’s finger. The silken skin was clammy. Kordahla snatched her hand away.
“Your mahktashaan knows. Tell him the indigo djinn is the evil he dreads.”
“If you mean my brother and me no harm, tell him yourself.”
Shaking her head, the genie climbed up the horse’s neck. She slipped, lashed out with her right arm, and fell to her left. Kordahla held out a hand to catch her. The genie never reached her, but floated above the coarse mane. Kordahla tilted her head. The genie’s left arm was pale, white almost, and perspiration beaded her brow.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
The genie leaned forward like she was about to impart a terrible secret. “I saw him rend a hole to a dark plane. Mahktos won’t interfere and the others won’t believe me.”
“Princess
!” Arun’s crystal glowed strong. He had dropped her veil and was galloping towards her. His eyes rose from the genie to her own.
“No,” the genie pleaded as cerulean light surged towards her. She popped into a ball of rose smoke which disappeared as the light spread over the horse.
Kordahla stared at Arun. Her lips had drifted apart. A lump had formed in her throat. What little faith he had held in her must now be destroyed.
“What is it?” Mariano demanded as he reached them. She thanked the Vae he and Ahkdul lagged behind, oblivious to her transgression. Though he held her veil, he forbore to offer it to her.
Arun removed his hood. His face was grim. She stared ahead, trembling, waiting to hear what discipline these men would impose for the trauma of an unwelcome visit from a djinn.
“My crystal flared,” Arun said. He paused. “I feared the genie might play havoc with the princess.”
“And did it?” Ahkdul asked, walking his horse between her and Arun.
“I believe my magic warned it off,” the minoria replied, his mercy beyond fathoming.
Kordahla felt tears trickle down her cheek.
“What causes this?” Mariano asked.
“I thought I had lost Mother’s veil,” she said, refusing to look at any of them.
He handed it to her.
Chapter 25
ISHOA HAD BEEN gone all afternoon.
In the dwindling gold light, in the dry field, the other soothsayers sat on a fallen log near the speaking stone, keeping quiet through all the worried questions of the tribe. Sian kept walking along the treeline. It was too hard to keep still with this much worry in her heart. Erok, a reed in his mouth, refused to let his spear out of his hand or her out of his sight.
Orin stood and said his first words since the gathering. “Ishoa calls.”
The women paused in preparing the dead for the Rite of Passage.
“Stay here until I fetch you,” Erok said, a murderous look on his face. He called a band of hunters together and they marched to the village, dry leaves cracking a grave rhythm beneath their feet. Sian shadowed them, careful to dart from beech to wingnut.