The Burning Isle

by Will Panzo

  “Al-Bujah is the name of a desert.”

  “It was a city once. He destroyed it totally. Turned it to ash and salted the earth so nothing would grow again.”

  “And that was justice?” Cassius asked.

  “In the old days. When heroes walked the earth.”

  7

  In the morning, Cassius called on Cinna and learned he would not be seeing visitors until after noon. He thanked the guard and exited the Purse through the front door and never set foot inside again.

  He wandered out to the Grand Market and purchased a loaf of bread sprinkled with olive oil. He made his way through the crowd to sit by the statue of Isvara, cool in the shade of the goddess. The blind man was there. They split the loaf of bread.

  “Why have you come here today?” the blind man asked.

  “I like to sit under the statue,” Cassius said. “It helps me to think.”

  “You may be the most pious young man I know.”

  Cassius laughed. “If you knew me well, you would not feel that way. In truth, I like your company.”

  “It is nice to be noticed. Sometimes I sit here for days, in this busy market, and no one says a word to me. They treat me as part of the statue.”

  “They are moving too fast to notice the important things in front of them.”

  “You are flattering me, boy.”

  “I am paying my respects to an elder.”

  “Nothing is free in Scipio. Not bread and not kind words. What do you wish of me?”

  “I like to hear stories,” Cassius said. “Stories of heroes. I know many Antiochi heroes. No one ever told me stories of Khimir heroes. You must know some.”

  The blind man smiled wistfully. “I do, boy. I do.”

  “In Antioch, they have a hero named Attus. The man who freed them from oppression.”

  “I see.”

  “Do the Khimir have a hero such as him?”

  “We have many heroes.”

  “And what of one such as him? One who set the people free.”

  “We have never needed to be set free. We were unconquered until Antioch arrived.”

  “And now?” Cassius asked. “Is it time for such a hero?”

  “I have waited a long time. He has not shown himself.”

  “Let us talk of the older heroes then.”

  Cassius’s mind wandered as the blind man told him of Keeyalhe and the great basilisk he slew with his stone ax. He looked south and in the widest avenues entering the Market from Lowtown, barricades were raised to block traffic. A hundred men stood guard at these posts, some geared in scoured mail and brandishing Fathalan scimitars or short, stabbing, Antiochi blades, some wielding greatswords from the famed weaponeers of Murondia, and even a few armed with spellcasters’ gauntlets.

  The guards questioned every man passing into and out of the Market. It was a futile gesture. Any who wanted to avoid the checkpoints could easily utilize the warren of lanes and alleyways that snaked through the city. But as a show of force, it was effective, a message to all that Boss Piso would not suffer violence quietly.

  To the north, an equal force was assembled in the avenues to Hightown. And at the base of the council hall stood scores of legionnaires.

  Cassius sat observing this arrangement for a time, until the blind man had finished his tale and finished his bread. Then he stood and looked up.

  “Watch me be strong,” he whispered to the statue.

  He bit his palm hard enough to draw blood, then reached out and rubbed his hand on the feet of the goddess.

  • • •

  The Street of Horrors was crowded with people, and the beggars along the lane called to Cassius as he passed.

  “Please, Master.”

  “Anything at all.”

  “Spare a copper.”

  “A veteran, sir. A veteran.”

  He saw the stumps of two amputated arms, a tumor the size of a peach pit, a child born with its feet fused, a leper, a burn victim.

  At the baths, he asked for a private room and asked to be attended by Tadua. His room smelled of mildew. He stripped naked and lay on the cool, tiled floor, his head ringing with a sharp pain. He closed his eyes against the dark and tried to will himself to sleep. He dozed in fits and dreamed that something clawed its way up his chest and strained to break out of his throat as a newborn snake will break through an egg.

  He thought about a burned beggar who had cried to him, the sight of the scarred flesh.

  He considered the man that he was now and the thing he needed to become to do his work, and he wondered at his chances of reconciling the two.

  There was a knock at the door, and he dressed himself and answered it. Tadua entered and took a seat on one of the low, stone benches.

  “Where is the old woman?” he asked.

  “Still at work. We work another bath together, and she stays late.”

  “And our other friend?”

  “He is good,” the girl said. “Still secret.”

  “Does he know where he is?”

  “No, we keep blindfolded. And with the medicine. He thinks he is dreaming all day. Will you take him soon?”

  “Tonight,” Cassius said. “Can you call the boy with the cart who helped you?”

  “It will take time. Maybe one or two hours.”

  Cassius told the girl where he wanted the man moved, and she left and returned an hour later. She carried with her a small satchel and an oversized jug of steaming water.

  “The boy is on his way,” she said.

  She emptied the jug into the tub and dusted it with the soap powder, then called to Cassius and undressed him and wiped the loose grime from him.

  The water was hot. She stared as he washed, her hands clasped together as before an animal that is wary of sudden movements.

  “You look like you have something to say.”

  “Will you kill him?” she asked.

  He wet his face, the bathwater brown now and the scum that floated the bathwater the color of old blood.

  “Why do you want to know?” he asked.

  “I just wonder.”

  “If things were reversed, would he care what I would do to you?”

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  “I know. And so do you if you’re honest. He would sell you to me without caring what I would do. This is a bad man.”

  He ran his fingers through his wet hair. With his hair slicked back and his face cleaned and exposed, he looked very young. The girl feared him, feared his scheming and his magic and his strange potions. But looking at him like this, that fear seemed foolish.

  “You know this man?” she asked.

  “I know all I need to know. I know who he serves. I know the work he does. That is how you judge a man.”

  “Only I wanted to know if you would kill him. Sometimes they steal people and hold them for money. The old woman, this is what she think you do.”

  “Do you regret what you’ve done?” Cassius asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said. And then, “I don’t want you to kill this man.”

  “Those aren’t my plans.”

  “There is too much killing already. I worry there is more coming. That it never ends.”

  “It will never end,” he said.

  “Maybe someday. When everyone gets tired.”

  “No.” He sat forward, and she recoiled, startled by him and by her reaction to him.

  “In the old days it was not this,” she said. “It was nice.”

  “How old are you?”

  “I told you already. Fifteen.”

  “And do you know what happened on this island fifteen years ago?”

  She nodded. “I hear about it.”

  “You were a baby when it happened, so you don’t remember.”
/>   “When I was young, it was not like this.”

  “You misremember.”

  She closed her mouth tight. Her lips disappeared in a thin white line.

  “I’m eight years older than you,” he said. “Do you want to know what I remember?”

  “Tell me,” she said.

  Cassius started to speak but then stopped. The words would not come. When was the last time he spoke of such things? He could not recall. He had locked those words away, and now they were beyond his reach.

  “Do you have a family?” he asked instead.

  The girl nodded.

  “The old woman. Is she your mother?”

  “No, but I look after her. She has no one. No child to care for her. She says my brother and I are the children she never carried.”

  “You look after your brother as well?”

  The girl sat quietly. She looked concerned, as though she had revealed something she should not have.

  “I meant nothing by the question,” Cassius said. “It’s nice that you take care of him. He’s a lucky boy.”

  The girl smiled, despite herself. “He is strong boy. The strongest of all his friends.”

  “Is that right?”

  “He likes to wrestle. No one can pin him. Not once.”

  “A real fighter.”

  “When he is older, and I have money saved, I take him to Akhaia. We have an Akhaian man on our street. He teach us words every day. My brother will go to a wrestler’s gym. He will be my champion. My little champion.”

  “I think that’s a great plan.”

  “The old woman says I am fool. She tells me it will take two lifetimes to save that money.”

  “I don’t know if that’s true.”

  “You have traveled,” she said. “What do you think?”

  “I think you’re determined. I think nothing will stop you.”

  The girl smiled inwardly, looked away. “My little champion,” she said softly.

  “You worry for him,” Cassius said.

  “Every day I worry. This is dangerous place for a child.”

  “Only because of the bosses. If there were no bosses, this would be a place safe for children. Safe for everyone.”

  “No bosses? There have always been bosses.”

  “No.” Cassius shook his head. “Not always. That’s what they want you to think. But in truth, they’ve been here only a short time.”

  “Get rid of bosses, and new bosses will take their place.”

  “It doesn’t have to be that way.”

  “Who would rule here instead?”

  “The Khimir.”

  The girl seemed surprised. “My people? They can’t drive out the bosses. They’re not strong enough.”

  “They are,” Cassius said. “And they can. They just need someone to show them how.”

  • • •

  A crowd had gathered to watch the fight. Inside the hog pen, two mastiffs circled each other warily, one favoring a front paw and the other with a gash along its muzzle. They moved under the glow of a streetlamp so dim Cassius could not see the blood on the floor of the ring.

  Sulla was shouting above the noise of the crowd, cursing her fighter as a worthless bitch. She caught sight of him from the corner of her eye and moved deeper into the press.

  A great cheer erupted. Cassius glanced in time to see the dog with the injured paw now fallen and its opponent moving to kill. When he looked back, he had lost sight of Sulla.

  He broke free of the throng just as the cheering reached its loudest. A sustained whine rent the air, followed by more cheers.

  “Enjoy the show?” she asked.

  He could barely make out her form in the shadow of a nearby alley.

  “I find this unsettling, actually,” he said.

  “Strange criticism from the likes of you.” She stepped into the light of a streetlamp. The chemical fire pooled in her pupils. “Didn’t seem so averse to bloodshed when we first met.”

  “I was fighting for my life then. Not for the amusement of gamblers.”

  “Does a distinction like that help you sleep at night?”

  “I don’t need to sleep,” he said.

  “I envy you that. Now why are you following me? If this is about your money, I don’t have it yet.”

  “Does it normally take this long to sell some spells?”

  “I’ve had trouble,” she said.

  “Something I could help with?”

  “Maybe you should lie low. Leave the troublemaking to others for a while.”

  In the near distance, the crowd began to disperse. Two men staggered up the lane, arguing over their wager.

  “You seem eager to get rid of me.” He moved closer to her.

  “People have a habit of getting hurt when you’re around.”

  “I don’t see it that way.”

  She backed out of the light of the lamp. He halted. He would not follow her blindly into a dark alley. He did not fear her exactly, she had never threatened him nor shown that her aims conflicted with his. But nor did he trust her. She was too resourceful, too ambitious. He respected her too much.

  “Come now, Cassius. I’m a gambler, but even I couldn’t calculate the odds on the coincidences that follow you.” Her voice was low and teasing. “You know that man of Piso’s you asked about? That one-eyed bastard? Well, a few days ago, he went missing. And then the night you asked about him, someone fitting his description attacked Cinna’s men. Afterward, he disappeared again. Coincidence. Big coincidence.”

  Cassius wormed his shoulders under his cloak. “I’m just here to earn money.”

  “You had banknotes worth three thousand gold in your hands the other day.”

  “How did you hear about that?”

  “Small island.” Her voice came from off to his side. She had flanked him from the shadows. “Word travels fast. Now tell me to my face why a man with three thousand gold wouldn’t run from this garbage heap.”

  “Believe what you want.”

  “I believe what I see.” She stepped into the light again, her eyes wolf gray and tight. “And when I work both sides, I see more than anyone.”

  “Is that meant to impress me?”

  “What happened in Lowtown?”

  “We went to pick up money.” Cassius turned to face her. “Things got out of hand.”

  “And the message at the house?”

  Cassius shrugged. “I don’t know anything about that. My guess is someone just declared his intention to escalate this conflict.”

  “Who? Piso or Cinna?”

  “I couldn’t say.”

  “Well, someone has to answer for all those bodies,” she said.

  “There’s violence every day on this island.”

  “That doesn’t make it right.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “You cut that girl to pieces.”

  “I didn’t have anything to do with that.”

  “You were there.”

  “No,” he said. “I was outside.”

  “Then you let it happen.” Her eyes were frantic. She tried to make her face a mask of calm strength, but her fear was plain to see. It shamed him so that he had to look away.

  “You think I’d do that?”

  “Would you stand by while someone else did?”

  “I wouldn’t.” His voice was thin, near to cracking. His chest sank, and it was easy to see now that he was still a boy. When he spoke, there was always the feeling of a cold intellect working beneath the words, ever guiding, and it made him seem older if only because the thing that fueled it was old. But clearly he was not its equal. “I didn’t lay a hand on that girl. I only learned of it after the fact.”

  She looked off into the middle distance. He turned to follow her sta
re, but the street was empty.

  “And then you killed them,” she whispered, more to herself than to him. “You discovered what they did and killed them. I couldn’t figure out who did it. But it was you. It makes sense now.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “We both know there wasn’t a firefight in Lowtown. Just because Cinna can’t trust word that comes out of Lowtown doesn’t mean that I can’t. That money was the only reason Cinna didn’t kill you. You gave the money back, and after that, your killing those men didn’t make sense. Your even going back to Cinna’s didn’t make sense. Not if you robbed him. So Cinna figured if you weren’t out to rob him, then you had to be telling the truth. And so he thinks Piso did the killing.”

  Heat lightning lit the sky.

  “I’m smarter than you,” she said. “Most people stop liking me when they realize that. I wonder if you will, too.”

  “If you’re so smart, tell me why I’d risk my life doing this.”

  “I don’t know yet. But it’s clear you’re up to no good. If I can see it, others will eventually.”

  “Not before I’m finished,” he said.

  “Finished tearing this city apart?”

  “And what do you care for this nest of rats and snakes.”

  “This is my home.”

  “And what does that say about you?”

  “You self-righteous pig. At least there’s no blood on my hands.” She stepped close to him, their faces inches apart. Her hand dipped into a pocket in her dress. Cassius did not need to see the hand to know that it now gripped her dirk.

  “No one in this city can say that.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Nothing,” he said.

  “Liar. You were talking about the Uprising. No one in this city has clean hands because of the Uprising. That’s what you meant.”

  A bent old man emerged from an alleyway. He was naked, and he declared himself a great prophet, alive some hundred thousand years, and declared also that he carried the word of god for all to hear and that any man who laid a hand on him in anger would turn to stone.

  “If I were you, Cassius, I would be very careful with that sort of talk in the future. Cinna may need your help now, but if he hears that kind of thing, he will end you.”