Then something—someone—was in the water next to her, grasping her around the waist and hauling her upward. Mandir, Rasik, some random swimmer—Taya didn’t care who it was. She paddled with her arms, trying to assist as her rescuer dragged her upward with powerful strokes. Taya broke the surface, gasping and coughing. Her lungs burned. A glance showed her it was Mandir who’d fished her from the Lioness’s maw, and she was so grateful that she didn’t care in the least about his hands being all over her.
Whitewater splashed over her face. They weren’t out of danger yet. She and Mandir were in the middle of the Lioness, with the current sweeping them downstream.
Mandir jerked his head to indicate an upcoming sand bar. “Can you swim to that bank?”
Taya was not familiar with this stretch of river. The current must have carried her a long way. She tested her limbs. They were weak, and her left leg painful. She spat out a bit of river water and said, “I’ll try.”
Mandir turned to her with a more concerned look, as if he hadn’t expected that response, and said, “Forget it. I’ll get you there.” He wrapped an arm around her chest and in a slow but robust sidestroke, headed for the sand bar. Taya kicked a little, trying to assist him, but it was clear she was being more of a hindrance than a help, so she gave up and lay still, letting him haul her. For a moment, it looked like the current might drag them past the sand bar, but Mandir swam at an angle, fighting, and the Lioness yielded to his vigor.
As they approached dry land, Mandir’s movements changed. He’d struck bottom. He took a few awkward steps through the water, still pulling her. Then he gathered her into his arms and stood, lifting her out of the water entirely. Water ran off her clothes and hair in rivulets. She struggled a little, embarrassed and wanting to be back on her own feet, but gasped as pain flared in her hip.
“Hold still,” growled Mandir. He carried her out of the shallows, up onto the sand bar, and then onto the bank, where Rasik awaited atop his horse, leading Pepper and the blood bay.
“Are you going after the jackal?” asked Rasik.
“Can’t,” said Mandir. “Taya’s hurt. Jackal’s probably gone by now anyway.”
Taya blinked in confusion. Had Mandir and Rasik seen the jackal? How had they recognized her? She shivered, suddenly cold.
Mandir, still carrying Taya, sat down on a rock. His forehead wrinkled as he peeled the sodden fragments of her Coalition robe away from her left hip. Then his face and hands went still. Worried, Taya twisted in his arms to see what he saw. Yes, she had an ugly gash there. The blood was oozing out and dripping down her leg.
Rasik, dismounting from his horse, came closer.
“What are you looking at?” Mandir snapped at him.
“Her injury, what do you think?” said Rasik.
“She doesn’t need you gawking at her when she’s half naked.” Mandir stood. “I have to get her away from the river. It’s too dangerous here.”
It occurred to Taya that she ought to be recoiling from Mandir’s touch. After all, she hated him. But in truth she took some comfort from it. Mandir had lost his shirt somehow. And despite his faults in character—which were many, she reminded herself, many—Mandir was flawless in body. She felt woozy and weak, even a little shivery after her dunking in the river. Mandir carried her effortlessly, and his skin was warm against hers. His chest and shoulders were hard muscle beneath a layer of soft skin. She laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.
“Stay awake, Taya.”
There was fear in Mandir’s voice, and she didn’t know why. Surely there was no harm in drifting off for a moment.
“Keep her awake, Rasik. Jab her with your fingers or something. I’d do it, but my hands are full.”
“Are you kidding? You practically lose your mind if I even look in her direction, and now you want me to touch her?”
“Keep her awake! It might be bad if she falls asleep.”
Someone yanked a lock of Taya’s hair, jarring her halfway to alertness. “Hey,” she protested.
“Told you not to sleep,” said Mandir.
Next thing she knew, she was moving suddenly downward. Mandir was seating himself on a rock, still holding her. She blinked and tried to sit up, but the pain flared again, and she stopped short.
“Hold still,” said Mandir. “I have to heal this.” He turned to Rasik. “Go stand watch or something. Give the lady some privacy.”
With a scowl of affront, Rasik turned and walked off, leading the horses with him.
“The jackal’s a young woman, maybe seventeen or eighteen years old,” Mandir called after him. “If you see anyone like that, let us know.”
Taya flinched as Mandir peeled back her torn robe again and prodded her wound.
“Sorry, just getting a sense of how deep it goes,” said Mandir. “It won’t hurt much longer.” He rested his fingers on her left thigh, where the bottom edge of the gash began, and in soft tones, called upon the Life Mother. “Balatu bantu, riabu sulmu ak samamu awiltu.” His words were gentle, since Lalan would respond to nothing else, and Taya felt the Life Mother’s magic stirring. At first her leg hurt worse, as if by awakening the injury Mandir had disturbed a hornet’s nest beneath her skin. She winced and tried to sit up.
Mandir could not respond audibly; he needed his voice to sustain the magic. But he laid his free hand on her arm to restrain her. The pain subsided quickly, and Taya knew, without looking, that the gash was knitting itself together from bottom to top. Mandir used no thread, only the magic of Lalan.
The fog of confusion and weariness that had settled into Taya’s mind began to lift, and while she waited for the magic to do its work, she pieced together what must have happened. She’d been scrying on the island and had been struck by something and knocked into the river. Mandir and Rasik had mentioned the jackal. What could have slammed into her like that? She’d been in the middle of a cyclone of fire.
It could only have been water. It must have extinguished the fire, otherwise she’d have been burned. Had she been struck by a jackal-summoned flood? That seemed the only possible answer. Mandir had seen it happen, jumped into the river after her, and fished her out. Perhaps she really did need a quradum.
“Did you see the jackal?” she asked, twisting a little in Mandir’s arms. “Or are you just assuming she was there?”
Mandir ignored her; he was still chanting his magic. But he was almost done. She felt much better. When he completed the task, he spoke. “How does your leg feel?”
The pain was gone; all she felt now was a slight tingle. “Perfect, I think. Did you do a healing rotation at Rakigari?”
“It’s part of the standard training for a quradum.”
“Thank you for pulling me out of the river.”
“You’re welcome. I tried to get you out before the flood hit you, but I couldn’t dismiss your fire, and you didn’t hear me calling your name. How am I supposed to protect you if I can’t even get to you?”
“You did protect me,” said Taya.
“You almost died in there. If I hadn’t spotted you when I did...” Mandir growled in frustration. “And no, we didn’t see the jackal. There was no time to look. But she’s going to pay for this.”
“You shouldn’t have told Rasik so much about her. Just the fact that she’s a woman is more than he should know. Information from scry-visions is for Coalition ears only.”
Mandir lowered his voice. “Coalition rules are designed to protect the organization, not individuals like you and me, and we’d be fools to follow them blindly. Rasik is our constant companion, and if the jackal is trying to kill us, I want a third pair of eyes looking for her.”
“Rasik doesn’t like us,” said Taya.
“He can go home and burn our effigies for all I care, as long as he remains loyal. And I believe he will.” Mandir shooed a needlefly away from her arm. “His anger is honest, and I’d rather deal with honest anger than with someone who smiles at me with thin lips and later sticks a knife in my back.
”
“He has no reason to be angry with us. Those two girls who were raped? We had nothing to do with that.”
“That’s not why he’s angry,” said Mandir.
“Why, then?”
Mandir lowered his voice still further. “It has nothing to do with us. It’s because of his personal circumstances.”
“How do you know?”
“I just know. It’s a ruling-caste thing. If you want, I’ll tell you about it later. Do you have other injuries I should take care of?”
Suddenly embarrassed of her torn robe and lying in Mandir’s arms with his hands all over her—flood and fire, what was she doing?—Taya extricated herself and stood up. The blood rushed to her head, and she staggered. Mandir, rising behind her, steadied her shoulders, but she recovered quickly and moved away from him. “I’m fine. If I have any other injuries, I’ll heal them myself.”
He watched her critically. “I’ll bet you’ve got some cuts and bruises. Healing is better done by someone who isn’t distracted by pain. And who took a rotation at Rakigari.”
“No cuts and bruises.” Actually, she had a number of sore spots beneath her robe, but she’d been through enough humiliation for one day. She wasn’t going to undress in front of Mandir so he could heal bruises.
It was hard enough just being in his presence and looking at him. Now that she wasn’t in his arms anymore, she had the disadvantage of actually getting an eyeful of the man, shirtless and sun-bronzed and smiling at her with his hair dripping wet from the river. Flood and fire, couldn’t he find a shirt to put on? Every time he moved, she could see the play of muscles across his arms and chest. It was all she could do not to stare.
And, as usual, she was a total wreck herself, this time a little more so than usual. She gathered up some of the stray fabric of her cotton robe to wring the river water out of it. Torn and soaking wet, the robe was all but ruined. She touched the top of her head. Her headdress was gone, and her hair was down, plastered around her shoulders. She turned to Mandir and challenged him with her eyes. “How does my hair look now?”
He grinned. “Like a rat’s nest, only less tidy. Let’s get you back to Hrappa.”
Chapter XIX
Mohenjo Temple, Seven Years Ago
TAYA STOLE DOWN THE TEMPLE hallway, checking each side passageway to make sure Mandir and his friends weren’t there. They had a habit of ambushing her, and Mandir seemed to know her third-year schedule down to the minute. He often planted himself and his cronies in the only path between the library and her room at exactly the time her special class dismissed, so he could follow her back to her room, making insulting comments all the way, or pin her in a corner somewhere and insist on examining her work. He never actually touched her, but sometimes his friends did, and his chasing her around and trapping her was frightening enough. She feared the situation would escalate someday. He was building up to something. She wasn’t sure what.
Today, happily, Mandir was nowhere in evidence. Taya broke into a jog as she approached her tiny student room. Shutting the door behind her, she breathed a sigh of relief. Here she was safe. Mandir had free rein of the temple halls, but he was not permitted to follow her into her room. She turned, preparing to put down her armload of homework tablets.
Mandir was sitting on her bed.
Taya jumped, suppressing a scream, and the tablets scattered over the table.
Mandir grinned. “Did I scare you?”
“Get out,” she hissed. “You’re not allowed in here.”
“Naughty girl,” said Mandir. “You’ve got a boy in your room. And you closed the door.”
“I didn’t invite you in, and I don’t want you here,” said Taya. “Get out. Now.” She reached for the door, but was afraid to open it. Would she be in trouble if someone saw her?
“I’d like to make you an offer,” said Mandir.
“What?” Taya’s mind raced. Should she run out of the room, maybe find an illitum? If she did, Mandir might be gone before she got back, and she might be punished. He might tell someone she’d had a boy in her room. Where were Mandir’s friends?
“I don’t think you like it when my friends and I give you a hard time in the halls,” said Mandir.
Taya gave a distracted nod. The boys might be lying in wait. If she left the room, they might jump her or something. For what purpose, she did not know—but Mandir’s intentions were never good.
“Am I right?” said Mandir. “You don’t like that?”
Taya blinked. She’d taken that for a statement; not a question. “Of course I don’t like it.”
“I could make it stop,” said Mandir.
“All right,” said Taya, knowing there had to be a catch. “Make it stop.”
“I will. And from now on,” said Mandir, “I’m going to be your secret companion.”
The hair rose on the back of Taya’s neck. She didn’t like that idea at all. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Mandir licked his lips. “It means we won’t tell anybody, but I’ll come to your room sometimes.”
“And do what in my room?”
“Come here and I’ll show you.”
Gooseflesh rose on Taya’s arms. She might be an illiterate farmer girl from a village in banana country, but she had not been born yesterday. She lunged for the door, leapt from the room, and ran as if all the floodwaters of Zhaerath were behind her.
Hours later, when she finally dared return, Mandir was gone. But on the floor, her homework tablets were smashed to pieces.
Chapter XX
Hrappa
AFTER YET ANOTHER VISIT TO the public baths, a trip back to the guesthouse, and a change of clothes, Taya felt much better, though still a little weak and shaky. Mandir joined her for lunch.
“I have to ask,” he said, between bites of freshly baked flatbread. “Were you granted a vision from Isatis before the flood hit you?”
Taya puzzled over what she’d seen in the fire. “I saw multiple visions, but I couldn’t make sense of them. They all showed the same...oh.”
“What?” said Mandir.
Taya shook her head ruefully. “I think I understand. Isatis was trying to warn me. She was showing me images of the river flooding, hundreds of them at once. I didn’t comprehend her message.” She blew out a breath in frustration. “I have to go back and scry again.”
“That’s not going to happen,” said Mandir.
“I have to. I didn’t get the vision.”
“And give the jackal another chance to kill you? She’s obviously watching our movements. She can’t attack us with fire because her magic is no match for yours. But the moment you go out to that island, you make yourself vulnerable to an attack by flood. I can’t be out there with you when you’re scrying, and flooding the Lioness is the easiest thing in the world, even for a jackal.”
“She can’t follow us around all the time,” said Taya.
“Maybe she can,” said Mandir. “Maybe she does. Look, you’ve already seen the jackal in one scry-vision. We have plenty of leads to follow up on here in Hrappa and at Zash’s plantation. Why don’t we investigate those for a while and see where it gets us? If we run out of leads, we’ll reconsider scrying the island.”
“What if the jackal attacked me on that island because she really, really didn’t want me to see the vision of that murder?” said Taya.
“What if she attacked you on that island because it’s the only place you’re vulnerable to her magic?” countered Mandir.
Taya sighed. “Fine, we’ll try the other leads first. Who should we visit this afternoon?”
Mandir eyed her. “You’re looking a little worse for wear. Let’s stay close to home and start with Hunabi’s brother, Kalbi. He’s right across the street. We can give Rasik the afternoon off and let him hunt onagers. A bit of kindness might go a long way with that one.”
Taya nodded. “Kalbi, then.”
“I was wondering when you were going to talk to me,” said Kalbi, ushering them into
his office in the Hall of Judgment. He was a slim, straight-backed boy with a reserved manner and an arrogant arch to his eyebrows.
“We’d like to test you for magical ability,” said Mandir.
Kalbi’s brows rose, but he submitted to Mandir’s fake magical ability test and passed it. When it was over, he smiled cynically. “Of course I’m not magical. If I were, I’d be wearing the green and silver like you.”
“We had to be sure,” said Mandir.
“So.” Kalbi leaned back in his chair, interlacing his fingers behind his head. “Have you made any progress? Figured out yet who killed my brother?”
“We can’t comment on that,” said Taya. “But we suspect your brother was involved with a woman.”
Kalbi snorted. “Which one?”
“Not the one the two of you were contracted to marry, but another woman. And this woman, though she was not herself the murderer, may have been involved somehow in the crime.”
“Hunabi was involved with lots of women,” said Kalbi.
“You’re saying he was popular with the ladies?” asked Mandir.
“Popular—that’s one way of putting it.” Kalbi rolled his eyes. “Do you know what my brother used to do?”
“What?” said Mandir.
“My father is the magistrate of Hrappa,” said Kalbi. “That means that whenever there’s a dispute between two people in this city, he hears the case and makes a decision. It is the role I will one day have, when my father passes away. Hunabi would have shared it with me if he hadn’t been killed.”
“Yes,” said Mandir. “Go on.”
“I’ve been preparing for the role all my life,” said Kalbi, indicating the shelves cluttered with tablets. “But Hunabi’s interests had lain elsewhere. Whenever an important case was being heard, Hunabi would find out which way my father leaned. He would go to the family of the winning side—they wouldn’t know they were winning, of course—pick a girl in the family he liked, and tell the head of household he would make sure the magistrate ruled in their favor if they allowed him to sleep with the girl. Usually the family went along with it.”
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