Infidel

by Kameron Hurley

  Inaya met her look. “There are worse things,” she said, and found them seats on the far right, toward the middle.

  The church wasn’t anywhere near full. Capacity was probably three or four hundred, and by Nyx’s count, maybe thirty men and forty women were in attendance. It was still a half hour until the service started, but it seemed a pretty poor showing, even by Nasheenian standards.

  Nyx wondered how good the chances were that somebody else spoke Nasheenian. The priest’s knowledge had given her pause. At this point, though, if she needed to give Inaya any more instructions, she’d done a poor job in planning, and they were fucked anyway.

  She took a breath and straightened in her seat. The benches were cold stone padded in dog hair, and about as comfortable as they looked. A stone basin filled with water stood in front of the apse. She watched as a half-dozen young boys in long blue robes began to transverse the ambulatory and light the tall candles under the bug globes. The smell of amber incense tickled her nose. She turned to see another boy wandering down the nave, swinging a sieved incense burner in front of him. She supposed it improved the smell, at least. The stone building was crude, without water cooling or conditioning, and that meant that in about an hour, they’d all be sweating and stinking and ready to claw their way out of this oven.

  Nyx waited a few minutes more while others began to funnel into the church. Then she stood and made her way to the far left transept. She had to go all the way around the men’s side to do it, but no one stopped her. She slipped into a small priest’s hall that ran the length of the building, and neatly stepped into the side door they had spotted from the outside. She pressed herself into the doorway—flat as she could make herself—and started working on the lock.

  “Help you, matron?”

  Nyx gave the lock a final nudge. Heard a satisfying click. She slipped her tools back up into her sleeve and turned. A fresh-faced young Ras Tiegan boy stood a few feet away with a puzzled look on his face.

  Nyx stepped away from the door, looked up at the lintel. “Sorry. Looking for the privy. Up here?” She pointed further along the hall where the stairway went up.

  “No,” he said, then—something, something—“quarters”—something—“women’s privies”—something, something—“you new?”

  “Sorry, my Tirhani’s not good,” she said. “Show me?”

  The boy still didn’t look quite convinced, but it got him away from the door. He led her across the nave and into the opposite transept and another long corridor.

  “Down here,” the boy said. Something, something “service.”

  Nyx ducked down the hall and paid her respects to the privy, then made her way back to her seat.

  “That’s him,” Inaya said, nodding to a slender, high-browed Ras Tiegan man stepping up behind the basin in the apse. He wore a fine red coat over loose trousers and a gauzy bisht, an odd pairing of sensible Ras Tiegan attire and traditional Tirhani garb.

  “Welcome,” the magistrate said. “Please be seated while we open today’s prayer.”

  Inaya bowed her head. Nyx bowed hers, too, but kept her eyes open. She noted Eshe fluttering in the rafters, making his way to the nave.

  The magistrate began to recite some Ras Tiegan prayer about dust and honor and forgiveness.

  As he spoke, two figures turned down Nyx’s aisle. Nyx raised her head.

  A tangle-haired woman sat next to her. She casually draped her arm over Nyx’s shoulder and leaned in. In her other hand, she held a slim pistol. She gently pushed it into Nyx’s side.

  Nyx’s whole body tensed. Inaya’s head remained bowed.

  “Let’s get up before the sermon starts. Ras Tiegan sermons are pretty boring,” Shadha so Murshida said.

  This close, Nyx realized how young she was. Twenty-five? Twenty-six? Barely older than Nyx was when she got tossed out of service. Her dark hair was a matted tangle, tied back from a hard, flat face that looked a tad Ras Tiegan. It was the eyes Nyx remembered, though. Those flat black eyes that had held hers while her life drained across the park.

  “Don’t you know you’re supposed to cover your hair in church?” Nyx said.

  Nyx saw two more Nasheenian women, wearing long coats and trousers, sit down behind them.

  Inaya looked up now, and the color drained from her face.

  “I’ve been kicked out of a mosque or two,” Shadha said. She had a hard, smoky voice. Nyx might have found it sexy under different circumstances. “Need a couple churches to complete the set. C’mon now, let’s get upstairs. Seems we have a lot to talk about.”

  “Don’t know if talking is what I had in mind,” Nyx said. It took a lot of effort to look away. She watched the magistrate finish his prayer and then introduce the high priest. Adrenaline made her blood sizzle. Everything looked especially clear and sharp, the way it did back when she was Shadha’s age and the whole world was a big black pit she needed to fill with blood.

  “C’mon,” Shadha said, squeezing her shoulder hard enough to hurt, pushing herself up against her. “We’ve spent long enough running around after each other. Let’s make up.”

  “If you think I’m above killing you in a church, you don’t know much about me.”

  Shadha twisted the gun into her hip. Old wounds throbbed. She’d been shot there a couple of times, and didn’t fancy getting shot there again. “You think I’m not keen on shooting you right here, you don’t know me very well. I thought you’d know exactly what I’m capable of by now.”

  “You’re the only person ever killed me,” Nyx said. “Good execution, piss poor follow through.”

  “You assume killing you was the end game. Come upstairs, Nyx.”

  “I think we can finish this here.”

  Inaya made a noise of distress.

  Shadha leaned in and whispered in Nyx’s ear, so close her warm breath tickled her neck. “There’s a fat little raven up there in the rafters I have a mind to eat tonight. You want to find out if I’m a better shot than you? This is a Ras Tiegan church. We’re authorized to kill shifters on sight. You know that?”

  “We’ll go up,” Inaya said.

  Nyx frowned.

  “Up it is,” Shadha said. “Come now, let’s not interrupt this fine sermon.”

  Shadha pushed them out the far side of the aisle and brought them around behind the seating area to the men’s side. The two other bel dames flanked them.

  They walked into the far transept and up the long corridor toward the stairwell the Ras Tiegan boy had said led into the “quarters.” Nyx deliberately didn’t look at the door she’d picked as they passed. It was still possible that Suha and Rhys were dead upstairs, of course, but Nyx had bet against that. Yah Tayyib’s position was better, but not perfect. Every plan had its drawbacks.

  Nyx hesitated at the bottom of the stair. Inaya bumped into her. “Nyx?” Inaya said.

  Easier for Inaya to go up, maybe. She had more faith. And she hadn’t died once already.

  “Up,” Shadha said, and prodded her with the gun.

  “You shove that thing at me one more time and I’m taking off that hand,” Nyx said.

  Shadha twisted the barrel into the small of Nyx’s back. Hard. “I think you should leave the dismemberment to me,” she said. “Up.”

  Nyx mounted the steps. At the top was a short hall and a single open door. She stepped into the room. The “quarters” were above the nave, and looked ornate enough to be the head priest’s quarters. Not typical of most Ras Tiegan churches, but when Nyx had looked over the schematic from the local archives, it was the only quiet corner aside from the cellar where anybody would be bedding down. Bel dames wouldn’t like the cold and damp of the basement. She sure didn’t.

  Two massive stained-glass windows flanked the room. A large desk sat between them. Along the edges of the room were two covered divans and upholstered chairs. They looked out of place against the stark stone. But what looked even more out of place were the dozen bel dames waiting there.

  Nyx recogn
ized a few of them from her days running notes for the order. There was Maysun so Nadar and her blood sister Sadira; Almira Sameh with the deformed hand she refused to fix; Zayda ma Sara, nearly forty now, with the complexion of rocky dirt; and Raja Halah, who’d been a kid when Nyx first took her own vows. But the rest were new faces—young, tough, barely blemished faces that reminded Nyx of the boys she saw come off the front after their first day in the trenches. A little shell-shocked, sure, but pleased and cocky to be alive. When you survived your first battle, you thought you were invincible. Time eventually cured you of that.

  Shadha moved past her and into the room.

  “You all know Nyx,” Shadha said. She sat on the edge of the desk, pistol still in hand. She was a small, broad-shouldered little woman, but the power was there. The way she walked, stood, sat—cocky little woman, just like her friends.

  Nyx and Inaya moved to the center of the room. Inaya was trembling a little. Nyx didn’t blame her.

  The two bel dames behind them shut the door.

  Nyx glanced at the windows. Five paces left, six paces right. There were benches under both windows. Two bel dames sitting on the left, three on the right.

  “So you don’t want to kill me,” Nyx said. “What next?”

  “Now I pay off your informant. It was a good plan, Nyx, but bad follow through. Curious as to who turned?”

  “Somebody always turns,” Nyx said.

  Shadha gestured to the tall bel dame next to her. The woman walked to a small door leading into the chamber opposite, the one further down the hall.

  Another woman led Suha and Rhys inside. Nyx wanted to feign some outrage, but had a tough time with it. What was the point? Somebody always turned. The women in this room knew that. They expected it.

  Rhys was missing his pistols. Suha still looked armed.

  The bel dame who led them in pushed Rhys onto the divan near the door, right in front of the window nearest Nyx.

  Suha came in with her eyes down. “Let’s get this the fuck over with,” she muttered. “I ain’t here to parade around.”

  “No. Not at all,” Shadha said. She grinned.

  So fucking cocky, Nyx thought. Was I ever that cocky?

  Suha didn’t walk in any further.

  “They kept you armed,” Nyx said. “Shows a lot of trust, I’d say.”

  “More than you should have given her,” Shadha said. She pulled a stack of notes from a drawer in her desk and passed them to Suha. “You can go,” she said.

  Nyx watched Suha leave. Kept quiet. Too quiet, maybe? But the fight had gone out of her. This was easier.

  Inaya glanced up at her. Nyx gave a little shake of her head.

  Shadha sat back on the desk.

  “Now we deal,” Shadha said.

  “With what?” Nyx said.

  “You probably know who wants you alive. It’s not me.”

  “Alharazad,” Nyx said.

  “Very good. You got Behdis to squeal? I know my girls didn’t. This is Alharazad’s operation. I just cut off the heads. You understand that, I know. Here’s the deal.”

  “No,” Nyx said.

  “You haven’t even heard it yet.”

  “I’m not a bel dame. Why recruit me?”

  “Because Alharazad likes what you do,” Shadha said. “You’re worth more to us alive than dead. You got nothing to lose, you know. Queen put out a note on you and your team, finally. Took a little urging from Alharazad, but it’s done now. Wonder why your girl turned? ’Cause there’s a note out on her, too—and your shifter. Bet she didn’t tell you that, did she? You guys cross that border, and you’re fucked. You got nowhere to go.”

  “There’s always somewhere to go.”

  “True enough. It’s your choice. You know what happened to that magician who got you out? Yahfia? They sent Yahfia to the front. Revoked her privileges. And look what happened to gravy’s family over there. Running with you’s a death sentence, Nyx. They all know that. It’s just a matter of time before they stab you in the back.”

  “You want me to wait for you to stab me instead? Seems to me you weren’t so great at it last time.”

  Shadha’s jaw worked. Hurt pride, perhaps? “The point wasn’t to kill you, like I said. I could have done that easy. I had orders to come back and reanimate you. This discussion would have gone a lot smoother then, I think.”

  Inaya was looking at Nyx again. Nyx glanced over at her, shook her head. “Listen,” Nyx said. “I’m here for the sand. You all can walk away from this. I just want the weapon.”

  Shadha grinned. “Stubborn till the end. You’ve got nothing to go home to, Nyx.”

  “Neither do you.”

  “I will. All of us will. We’re getting back to the good old days, Nyx, back when bel dames—”

  Nyx sighed. “Hate to tell you this, Shadha, but I’m not going to sit here and let you roll out your grand plan. I realize it makes you feel all rich and important, got a famous rogue bel dame in here you’re giving ultimatums to in front of your cronies, but I got shit to do, and I’m looking for the dragonfly, not the midge. You got the weapon or not?”

  The grin on Shadha’s face wavered. For the first time, Nyx saw a stir of doubt. “Maybe you need some time to think about it. We’ve got a great cellar,” she said. She slid off the desk.

  Paused.

  “I just got one question,” Shadha said. “I got your turncoat. I got your boyfriend. I know the raven’s shut up downstairs in the nave. But where’s your magician? The real one?”

  Inaya looked at Nyx again. Nyx could feel her quaking like a leaf.

  Nyx turned to Rhys and gave him a little two-fingered salute.

  The windows shattered.

  Two giant hornets careened into the room, buzzing like a freight train. The bel dames scattered.

  Nyx spun, crouched, and lifted up the back of Inaya’s abaya. She pulled her scattergun free of the belted harness at Inaya’s back.

  Inaya yanked open the front of her abaya. The already loosened buttons popped free. She stepped out of the abaya. She wore a tight tunic and trousers beneath—and over that, Nyx had strapped her with enough explosives to take out a small army.

  Fitting, since they were standing right in the middle of one.

  Inaya grabbed the detonator at her hip.

  Nyx fired at the two bel dames at her left and pulled another pistol from Inaya’s rear holster for Rhys. She sliced his bonds with her dagger and leapt up onto the bench and over the jagged window. The roof there came right up to the window. She reached for Rhys’s hand.

  The bel dames pointed and fired at Inaya.

  Inaya hit the detonator, and, simply—burst. Green mist exploded from the head of the tunic. The pile of clothing and explosives fell neatly to the floor as a dozen bel dame pistols went off.

  Rhys grabbed Nyx’s hands with his thick, rough fingers. She had a strange moment of dissonance, then braced herself against the lip of the window and yanked. Rhys kicked over the top of the window and tumbled after her.

  The explosion knocked them both back. She lost hold of Rhys and tumbled down the slick tile roof. Grabbed the stony overhang. Hung a moment, suspended over a two-story drop. Then fell.

  She landed on her side with all her limbs tucked in. The fall knocked the breath from her body. Shattered glass and bits of stone rained on her from above.

  Nyx tried to suck in some air.

  Suha already had hold of her arm. “Let’s go, let’s go!” Suha said, tugging her up. But Suha had had plenty of time to make her way down, and Nyx’s exit was a lot rougher.

  Nyx fished around for her scattergun.

  “Rhys?” She turned and saw him limping toward her. Saw his ankle rapidly swelling. He had the pistol at his hip.

  “I’m here,” he said. “Let’s fucking finish this.”

  The church’s congregation was pouring out the front of the church, wailing. Nyx avoided the crowd and went to the door she’d opened on the north side of the church and stepped rig
ht back into the empty hall leading into the high priest’s quarters.

  She was catching her breath now, drawing deep. Suha had both pistols drawn.

  “Tayyib still out there?” Nyx said.

  “Until the local magicians realize he’s cut a hole in the filter and sucked in some giant hornets, yeah,” Suha said.

  They pounded upstairs.

  Nyx went in shooting.

  The bel dames were sprawled across the room in various states of death, dying, and shell-shock. The air was heavy and clotted with dust and smoke. Nyx shot the nearest bel dame in the face, not sure if she was alive or dead and not caring. The windows had completely shattered. The one at the right had taken a good deal of the wall with it. Most of the roof had collapsed, but the floor was intact.

  “Shadha’s mine!” Nyx said, pushing her way through the rubble. Suha was firing off rounds into broken bel dames’ heads. Rhys was working his way around the other side, doing the same with a sort of slow, steady determination that reminded Nyx of a boy who’d spent six months cleaning his friends’ guts off his gear and who’d just taken his first batch of Chenjan prisoners.

  Nyx mashed in a couple of familiar faces and went digging for Shadha near the desk. She pushed past piles of broken blue tile and shattered glass and found Shadha behind the desk. She’d been impaled by a jagged shard of glass, and had dragged herself away from the front of the desk to a protected little alcove near a broken shelf. She lay in a bloody pool, panting.

  Nyx pushed her scattergun into Shadha’s sweaty face, made her look up at her.

  Not so cocky, now.

  “Where is it?”

  “Here,” Shadha said. Snotty bubbles appeared under her nose. She hacked and coughed and struggled again with the jagged shard in her chest. Touched it with already bloodied fingers. She bared her teeth. “You set it free. It’s hungry, now.”

  “Nyx!”

  Suha was moving toward her across the rubble, fast.

  Something hissed.

  Nyx swore. She shot Shadha in the face and leapt on top of the desk. Suha jumped up with her.

  “Fucking shit’s eating me! Fuck!” Suha started pulling up her tunic.