by Troy Denning
Kumara nodded toward Atreus and Yago. “It is you who brought this evil on us.” He ground a leaf between his fingers, then pushed the dust into the spurting wound on his patient’s ankle and added, “You angered Fate by trying to cheat her, and now we must all pay.”
Atreus could not stand the sight of the tears that welled in Seema’s eyes. He squatted down across from Kumara, his misshapen face taut with anger.
“Speak how you wish about my friends and me, but Seema is not responsible for this,” he said, gesturing at Timin’s wounded father. “Nor is she responsible for the missing daughters. Only a coward would blame a woman for a devil’s doing.”
Kumara returned the threat with a black-eyed glare, then hissed three times. An invisible force as soft and powerful as the wind struck Atreus in the chest, knocking him to his haunches and leaving him gasping for breath.
The old healer narrowed his eyes. “In this place, you are a devil.” He glanced at Seema and added, “Women who consort with devils are witches.”
Seema gasped in outrage, then met Kumara’s eyes and locked gazes. Atreus sensed that some contest neither he nor the villagers could quite perceive, much less understand, was taking place. The two healers glared at each other for what seemed an eternity, neither blinking nor seeming to breathe, until Seema finally began to tremble.
Kumara sneered, then raised his chin. “Do you hear it, Seema?” he asked.
Atreus heard nothing, but Seema’s eyes darted toward the head of the basin.
“You see?” Kumara sneered. “Even Jalil’s ghost knows what you are.”
Seema’s eyes flashed with fury, but she seemed unable to keep from turning her gaze in the direction of her own hamlet. She cocked her head as though listening. Her shoulders slumped and tears began to spill down her cheeks. She spun away and bounded up the boulder field, leaving Kumara to smirk at her back.
Atreus glared down at the old healer and said, “If Seema did bring evil to Langdarma, she is not the first. There is enough wickedness in your heart for ten devils.”
Kumara did not even look up. He simply hissed, and Atreus felt an invisible hand pushing him away. Yago scowled and started to step toward the healer, drawing an alarmed murmur from the crowd of villagers. Atreus quickly raised his hand.
“Seema wouldn’t want that.”
He motioned Yago and Rishi to his side and led the way a short distance up the talus pile. He spent the next several minutes glaring down the slope while Kumara tended to Timin’s father, until he finally felt calm enough to speak.
“That old terror is right about one thing,” he said. “Tarch followed us.”
Yago’s eyes grew round with fear, though it would have shamed the ogre to admit this, and Rishi shook his head.
“Such a thing is impossible,” the Mar insisted. “You were not conscious, so you do not know—”
“I know that two girls have disappeared since we’ve been here,” Atreus said. “It was no coincidence that Timin’s father was babbling about devils. He must have seen Tarch before the landslide.”
Rishi closed his eyes and said, “And you want to capture him.”
Atreus shook his head. “No, we’ve tried that,” he said. “I want you two to track him down. We’ll let the sannyasi take care of the rest”
“Us two?” Yago could not quite suppress a knowing smirk as he added, “You going after the girl?”
Atreus nodded. “I’d only slow you down … and besides, you’re not to get into a fight.” He started to limp off, then paused. “Be back by dark, even if you find nothing. We promised Seema no killing, and I suppose that includes you two.”
“The good sir is most generous,” said Rishi. “I am certain he will reward us well for this danger.”
Atreus smiled, then waved his hand around the valley. “You’re seeing Langdarma,” he said. “What more do you want?”
By the time Atreus hobbled up the slope to his yak, Seema had disappeared down the trail. He untied the lead and started after her, expecting to find her waiting a few switchbacks below.
When he reached the main trail without seeing any sign of her, he began to worry. Though he was no scout, he dismounted and sorted through the muddy tracks until he convinced himself that Seema had indeed turned toward home. This hope was confirmed as he passed through the hamlet, where the worried villagers stopped him to ask why she had seemed so troubled. Atreus assured them it had nothing to do with the condition of Timin’s father, who would no doubt be returning soon under Kumara’s care. He urged his yak toward Seema’s hut.
He arrived to find the door wide open and Seema kneeling beside a wooden chest, holding a small yak hair cloak. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying, and she was still huffing from her long run. Atreus stopped just inside the door, reluctant to intrude, happy just to find her uninjured and at home.
Seema set the cloak aside, then removed a pair of brown trousers and a striped tunic. Finally, she withdrew a round hat of black felt and held it before her, running her finger along the brim. Though Atreus had not realized she knew he was there, after a time she placed the hat with the other clothes and turned to face him.
“I heard Jalil,” she said. “He was crying and calling for me, but I was gone Outside. I did not answer, and then he just stopped calling.”
Atreus limped into the room and kneeled across from her, picking up the hat. It was small, only a little larger than his fist. “Jalil was yours?” he asked. “Your son?”
“He was eight.”
She took the cloak in her hands, rubbing the material as though she could bring the boy back by stroking his clothes.
“Kumara warned me not to go. He said I could bring Jalil nothing but pain by trying to cheat Fate. And now look. I have brought evil to the whole valley.”
“You were trying to save your child. How can that be wrong?”
Atreus wanted to take her in his arms, but he could not quite bring himself to reach out, to believe that she, or anyone, would be comforted by his embrace. “If there was any evil in that, it was only that you had to go instead of Kumara,” he offered.
Seema looked up from her son’s cloak and said, “You don’t understand. Life in Langdarma brings with it sacred duties, even greater than that of a mother’s love for her child.”
Atreus thought of the terrible sacrifice his own mother had made to save his life and shook his head. “There is no duty greater than that of a mother to protect her child,” he said.
“In Langdarma, there is. Langdarma is the birth home to Serene Abhirati, Mother of Peace and Beauty.”
Atreus frowned, not seeing the connection. “And?”
“And Abhirati has been gone wandering the heavens for a hundred centuries. She left us to watch over her valley, and the sannyasi to watch over us, so that all would be the same when she returned.” Seema lowered her gaze, her hands crumpling the hem of her son’s cloak, and said, “Kumara is right to be angry with me. My selfishness has brought evil into her home.”
“Kumara is a fool,” Atreus said, taking Seema’s hands and gently smoothing Jalil’s cloak. “If Abhirati is truly the Mother of Peace and Beauty, then she will understand … as one mother to another.”
Seema looked up. “Do you think so?”
“I know so,” Atreus said. “Would Abhirati have left the sannyasi to protect you if she were not a good mother? If she is a good mother, how can she condemn you for doing all you could to save Jalil?”
Seema considered this, then said, “That does not change the evil I have brought on the valley. If you are right about Tarch being here, it is because of me.”
Atreus shook his head. “If anyone is to blame for that,” he told her, “it is Kumara.”
Seema frowned and asked, “How can you say that?”
“No slaver wants old men like Kumara,” said Atreus. “Had Kumara gone after the yellow man’s beard instead of you, Tarch would not have bothered to kidnap him.”
Atreus did not add that Ku
mara might also have returned in time to save Jalil’s life, but he saw by Seema’s furrowed brow that this had also occurred to her.
After a moment, she shook her head.
“This game makes no sense. We can say ‘what if this’ and ‘what if that’ all day long, and it changes nothing.”
“Aren’t you the one who said no mortal can understand the Wheel of Life? Perhaps Tarch has been fated to come here since the beginning of time, or maybe it was Kumara who cheated fate by refusing to help save Jalil. I don’t know.” Atreus squeezed Seema’s hands more tightly and said, “The only thing I do know is that no matter what Kumara says, you aren’t to blame. You did what you did out of love, and that is never wrong.”
Seema considered this, then said, “Thank you for saying these things.” She closed her eyes and embraced him. “Even if they are not the truth.”
“They are.” Atreus kissed her forehead without really realizing he had, adding, “You can trust me.”
“I already do.”
Seema looked up, and Atreus was instantly lost in her brown eyes. He pressed his lips lightly to hers, then pulled away.
“I’m sorry,” he said as he tried to disengage himself. “I don’t mean to take advantage …”
“Do not apologize.” Seema pressed a finger to his lips, refusing to let go, and said, “You are not taking advantage. I trust you, and you are a comfort to me.”
Seema kissed him again, this time harder, and he could feel her need drawing him closer. She pressed her body against his. He wrapped her in his arms, felt the softness of her breasts against his hard chest, the heat of her belly warming his, the smooth curve of her hip beneath his fingers. She melted to the floor beneath him, drawing him down on top of her, holding him so close that it seemed she was trying to make him part of herself. He wanted to become part of her, to feel their bodies join as he had felt their spirits unite earlier, when she told him not to apologize—and then Atreus realized he was deceiving himself. Worse, he was deceiving Seema. He did not deserve the trust she had granted so freely, not while the secret of the fountain remained between them. Now that he had seen the sparkling waters in Kumara’s hand, he knew Sune’s quest was a literal one. He was to find the Fountain of Infinite Grace and return with a vial of its waters. He also knew that this was forbidden, that when he did as his goddess bade and filled his vial, he would betray Seema’s trust in the cruelest manner.
Atreus’s embraces grew weak and his kisses guilty. He began to feel the ungainliness of his body and recall his hideous looks. His desire for Seema became a sick, shameful thing that even his body would not abide. He drew his face away from hers, then could not bear the beauty of her brown eyes and looked away.
Seema continued to hold him. “Atreus?” she whispered. “Did you hurt yourself?”
“No. No, I’m fine.” He could barely choke out the answer.
“Then why did you stop? Is love-making not a Devotion to your goddess?”
“Yes, it is,” Atreus answered as he rolled off Seema, but stayed beside her and continued to hold her in his arm. Even that felt like a lie. He could not tell her about the fountain any more than she could take him to it. “I’m feeling uneasy.”
Seema propped herself on an elbow. “You are wondering about Jalil’s father?”
Atreus nodded, breathing a silent sigh of relief, and even that made him feel guilty.
“There is no need to think of him,” Seema said. “He is only a friend now, and I seldom see him.”
“He doesn’t live nearby?” Atreus asked.
“No, he is a healer down in the valley. No more needs to be said about him.”
Seema pushed herself up and began to fold Jalil’s cloak.
“Now I am a little bit sad again,” she said. “I hope you will forgive me.”
“There is no need,” Atreus said, picking up the boy’s hat. “I fear it’s you who must forgive me.”
Atreus waited alone on the balcony until well after dark, when Rishi and Yago returned exhausted and famished. They had spent most of the day scouring the area around the rockslide and found nothing, not even a footprint they could identify as Tarch’s. The Mar had been ready to declare the hunt over and report to Atreus that he was mistaken, but Yago, knowing first hand the comforts of a good deep grotto, had insisted upon investigating the Caves of Blue.
The task had proven more difficult than they could imagine. The mouths of more than a thousand different caverns dotted the face of the Turquoise Cliff, some located nearly a mile above ground. After a cursory examination of some of the ground level caverns, many of which they happened across only after catching a whiff of musty air from behind a bush, they had given up and returned to Seema’s for the night.
At Atreus’s insistence, they abandoned the search for the Fountain of Infinite Grace in favor of investigating the Caves of Blue. No more girls turned up missing, and Atreus was at first inclined to attribute the basin’s good fortune to the vigilance of his friends. When they found no signs of Tarch after seven days, even Atreus began to think he had been wrong about the slave master following them into Langdarma. Yago and Rishi returned to looking for the fountain, though they often made a point of passing through Timin’s village to inquire about signs of the devil.
It was after one such stop that Rishi returned with news of the fountain. Grateful for his father’s life, Timin had finally responded to the Mar’s discreet questioning. According to rumor, the twinkling water came from an ancient temple somewhere in the main valley. The news had, at first, disheartened Atreus, but Rishi had quickly hit on the idea of searching for the temple from above. They would simply climb the canyon walls and scan the valley floor, looking for any likely buildings or streams that sparkled more than they should.
By the third day, Yago and Rishi had spotted a likely looking building not far down the valley. Atreus decided to go along, telling Seema that he was going to start hiking with his friends to strengthen his leg. To his dismay, she insisted on coming, greatly adding to the already heavy pall of guilt weighing him down. They started at dawn, intending to pass through Timin’s village and start the descent into the main valley before midmorning.
An hour into the journey, they stopped to drink from one of Langdarma’s pristine streams. As Atreus kneeled on the mossy bank, the water grew cloudy and pink. He cried out and jerked his hands back, wondering if the valley somehow knew of his plan and was passing judgment on his deception.
Atreus’s companions gathered along the bank behind him, staring and gasping as the water grew murkier and darker. Yago kneeled and brought a palmful to his mouth.
“Vaprak’s veins!” he cursed. “Blood!”
“Blood?” Seema gasped.
Atreus stood and looked up through the thick undergrowth, searching for any sign of a predatory beast. The rhododendrons remained as still as stones. The water continued to grow darker and redder. To lose that much blood, an animal would have to be the size of a dragon, and even in this dense forest a predator animal large enough to down a dragon could hardly be missed.
“Seema, what’s at the top of this stream?” Atreus asked.
She glanced up at the ice-blue sky, somehow estimating their position from its mottled surface. “A herder’s shed.”
“Please do not tell us this herder has a daughter,” said Rishi.
Seema’s face grew fearful. “I am afraid he does,” she said. “Two of them.”
Yago studied his companions, then said, “Can’t be what you’re thinking. Too much blood.”
“I don’t think it’s blood,” said Atreus, “at least not the way you think.”
He pointed down the creek to where it was joined by a small rivulet from a side gully. The red stain was spreading up the side gulch.
“Think we found Tarch?” Yago asked.
Atreus’s only response was to start up the stream bank.
They crept through the rhododendrons, moving as quietly and rapidly as four people could through su
ch thick undergrowth. The water continued to grow redder and thicker until the stream took on the appearance of a vein filled with dark, clotty blood. A nauseating, copperlike stench began to hang in the air, and alarming little noises began to rise from Seema’s throat. When they finally reached the terraces beneath the herder’s shed, it grew apparent that there was no need for stealth. The grassy pastures were strewn with slaughtered yaks, and an old woman was up near the shed, wailing and cradling her husband’s smashed head.
“Seema, you’d better go first,” said Atreus, recalling how Timin’s delirious father had initially reacted to him and Yago. “We’ll follow after you cover her eyes.”
Seema nodded, then clambered over the terraces. She kneeled beside the old woman and spoke to her softly, covering her head with a shawl. By the time Atreus and his companions arrived, Seema had the story.
“She said a sharp-eared devil came for her daughters and killed her husband when he tried to save them. The beast left five minutes ago.” Seema’s face was hard and angry, almost ugly. She pointed into the shed. “There are axes and scythes inside.”
Rishi’s jaw fell and he asked, “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
Seema glanced at the destruction surrounding her and said, “Do what you must. I want him stopped.”
Atreus raised his brow. “We’ll try,” he said, “but it wouldn’t hurt to call the sannyasi.”
Seema nodded, and Rishi rushed off to fetch the weapons. Yago glanced at Atreus. Though the ogre had managed to force a smile onto his jaw, Atreus could read the doubt in his friend’s eyes. Shieldbreaker or not, Yago was afraid. As far as he was concerned, Tarch could not be stopped.
Atreus clamped the ogre on his huge forearm and said, “We’ll manage.”
“Don’t we always?” Yago answered. “But if I get—”
“I know … don’t let the crows get your eyes,” said Atreus.
Yago’s behest was a standard Shieldbreaker request. They believed crows to be spies of Skiggaret, the fear-loving god of their bugbear enemies. Though the reminder betrayed Yago’s fear at facing Tarch again, Atreus said nothing to reassure his friend. Among ogres, acknowledging another’s fear was the worst kind of insult