Ink Adept

by TatiAnna Tibbitts

Watch out for the Boney Man. Munayair looked at her single shadow. He comes limping out of shadows cast by the lone moon.

  Piles of saddlebags waited on one side. Girls loaded their ponies and chattered excitedly, dressed in new grey tunics. A brand-new juyios, glyphs still shiny with fresh blood, was strapped to each of their hands. Asavari Eng and Gora Kinian were among them, but Munayair pretended not to see them waving.

  “Munayair!” Adept Futsu greeted her with a rare smile. She stood beside a pile of saddlebags, waiting to be distributed to new journeyers. “You’re wet through.” She reached for a spell on her arm.

  With a hand, Munayair stopped her. The journeyers had noticed her lack of a grey tunic, and their eyes crawled over her like spiders. “Don’t. Please.” Munayair ducked her head. “You don’t understand.”

  “Understand?” Futsu’s eyes clouded. “What’s wrong? You’ve been crying.”

  Asavari Eng strode over, calling in her strident voice. “Naya, how in the five holy names did you manage to lose your new clothes so fast?”

  “Leave her alone, Asavari,” Gora shouted.

  Munayair’s gaze dropped to the ground. “I’ve been sundered.”

  Halting abruptly, Asavari let out a gasp and pressed her hands to her mouth, eyes wide.

  “What?” Futsu repeated. “I don’t ... what does that mean?”

  Footsteps came up the tunnel behind her. Adept Kasebi said, “It means she must be gone with the journeyers before the sun rises, but she is no longer one of us.”

  Futsu’s gaze swept from Munayair to Kasebi, lips twitching, waiting for them to laugh. “How ... but I’ve never heard of such a thing. Surely the high adept will—”

  “The high adept was first to turn her back on me,” Munayair said, the icy blaze in her stomach as fresh as when it happened.

  “We need to get Prentice Sar ...” Kasebi stopped and cleared her throat. “I mean, Munayair, her gear. See to it, Hatano, please.”

  “Oh dear—” Adept Futsu’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry—” She bustled through the piles of gear while Kasebi vanished into the stable, leaving Munayair cold, wet, and tired, gazing at the stars. Could it have been the same day she stood watching the solstice eclipse, anticipating the trial ahead? In her worst nightmares, she could not have foreseen this turn of events. She remembered the smoke reaching to the heavens, carrying their prayers with it.

  No god heard my prayer. I might as well have been silent. She rubbed the aching mark.

  A hand brushed her arm. “Munayair?”

  Shaking herself out of her reverie, she turned to see dark eyes glittering with tears. “Are you all right?” Gora Kinian asked.

  Munayair blinked back tears of her own and shrugged. “As well as I can be, considering.”

  Gora lowered her voice. “What happened?”

  Anger flared through Munayair like a scorching flame. “Nothing! I faced the test, same as anyone.”

  Gora frowned, taking back her hand and wrapping her arms around herself. “The spirits wouldn’t cast someone out for no reason.”

  “That’s enough, Journeyer Kinian.” Adept Kasebi glared at Gora until she fled back to the other greys. Adept Futsu returned, holding two saddlebags and wiping her eyes on her shoulder. Munayair took the bags, bowed, and turned to leave, but Kasebi’s voice stopped her. “Here, Munayair. For your journey.” She handed Munayair a bundle. It was heavy and jingled faintly.

  “But I’ve been sundered ...” Munayair said.

  “Oh hush,” Adept Kasebi said. “It’s little enough, gods know. It’s what’s left from your sponsor’s final payment.”

  “Thank you,” Munayair said. “It’s more than I deserve.”

  “Quit spouting nonsense,” Futsu said, with the return of her usual caustic heat. “The spirits aren’t infallible, as anyone who has dealings with them can attest.”

  Kasebi’s lips twisted sourly. “There are those who can be counted on to turn the situation to advantage, at least.”

  The two adepts shared a meaningful look, and Adept Futsu muttered a Cayori curse. “Dhundhu ka khiddh—lackey of a dog.”

  “Munayair, listen.” Adept Kasebi bent, taking Munayair’s hands. “You must be clean gone by morning. Do you understand? Most of the teachers in the hall can be trusted, but outside ...” She shook her head.

  “If anyone asks,” Adept Futsu said, throwing a threadbare cloak over Munayair’s shoulders, “you were called home before initiation. Tell no one what happened here tonight.”

  Munayair’s frozen brain moved sluggishly. “Anjita?”

  Kasebi hesitated. “I let you make your own judgment,” she said. “Just consider where your words might be repeated.”

  “Leave in haste.” Futsu’s lips tightened. “Shake the dust of this place from your boots.”

  Munayair smiled and bowed. “I thank you for your kindness,” she said, hiding the cold black sorrow behind a careful mask. “At least I can take that with me.”

  She turned away and headed for the archway to the main courtyard. The other girls waited, staring in shock, but she walked past without a word or glance. Hair still dripping, she trudged out the front doors, never looking back.

  Ignoring the stony road leading west, Munayair wandered away among the dunes, sinking ankle-deep into cool sand. A breeze blew cold under a thin scum of cloud. Each star pierced like an accusing eye. She walked until her legs folded, eyes fixed on rock formations rising to the sky a few hundred paces away. For the hundredth time she glanced at her hands; the numbness still felt like flames searing her flesh.

  Other journeyers streamed from the gates of the Marble Hall, making camp outside its walls. Fires flickered to life like fallen stars, and excited voices drifted on the cool night air. Several approached Munayair but fell silent and veered away when they recognized her.

  The spirits’ words echoed in her mind. The quickest way forward is the long road back to where you began.

  Is this where I began? she wondered. Alone, under the stars?

  Chapter 9: Goodbyes

  “Naya!”

  Anjita struggled up the nearest dune with two bags on her back. Her cheeks were red and hairs deserted their bun. She had exchanged her dark purple silk tunic for grey, the color of the journeyer adept. She clutched something in one hand.

  “Naya.” Anjita dropped to her knees, shaking Munayair. “What happened? None of the adepts would say—Adept Futsu was crying—all the girls were saying crazy things—”

  Munayair knew she had to speak, but talking about it would bring the reality closer. She looked at Anjita’s hand and had to gulp back tears.

  “You found Tel.” Her throat closed. The tiny chelka reached out to her.

  Anjita held him out. “Adept Hematti insisted I bring it.”

  His glyphlight flickered as the spell energy ran out, but the grease-marks on his forehead remained intact. Swallowing a lump, Munayair cradled him in the crook of her arm, touching the deactivation spell. He went limp, light fading.

  She tightened her grip. “I wouldn’t have made it without him, and I almost left him behind.”

  Anjita shook her head. “Naya, I need an answer.”

  With Tel’s familiar weight back in her hands, she could force out a few words. “I failed. They sundered me from the order.”

  Anjita froze. “What?”

  Munayair giggled, rubbing Tel’s smooth ceramic forehead. The greasemarks smoothed away under her thumb, leaving no sign they’d ever existed. “The guardians told me ... they said I would never be an adept.”

  “How? Absurd! I’ve never heard of such a thing. What is this nonsense?” Anjita shot upright. “I’m going to Adept Attar, there’s no way—”

  Munayair seized her hand. “Jita! No.”

  “I have to do something.” Anjita reluctantly met her gaze.

  “There’s nothing to be done. The spirits’ decision is final.”

  Anjita settled back to the sand, shoulders hunched and eyes smolderi
ng.

  “Journeyer Mahil.” Munayair smiled, smoothing the grey silk on Anjita’s shoulder. “You’ve been waiting for this day for so long.”

  “Waiting?” Anjita surged upright to pace like a caged wolf. “This is not what I was waiting for. I won’t let this happen. I’ll lock horns with the high adept if necessary.”

  “Jita, please,” Munayair pleaded, grabbing her hand as she passed.

  Anjita stopped, turned, and pressed her other hand on top of Munayair’s. “You’re chilled to the bone,” she muttered. “How long were you in that accursed lake?”

  “I don’t know.” Munayair tensed her knees to stop their trembling. Every joint ached.

  Muttering, Anjita ran a finger along a line of text on her right forearm. Immediately, a fire blazed in the sand. It shone both warm and bright, but Munayair shrank away. She could still feel those hungry flames devouring her. Anjita, digging through Munayair’s pack, didn’t notice. She pulled out dry clothes and bent to wrestle off Munayair’s sodden boots. Working together they managed to strip her down to her shift, where she shivered in the chill desert air as Anjita pulled a dry tunic over her head.

  Once she was dressed and seated near enough to the fire to cook her feet, Munayair massaged sensation back into frozen fingers. She stared at the flames, keeping her face carefully blank and ignoring the storm brewing in the back of her mind.

  On the other side of the fire, Anjita tugged a bone-tooth comb through her snarled mane. “By the five holy names.” The fire drew strange shadows on her face. “This has been the oddest night of my life.”

  “What happened to you?” Munayair asked. “After ...”

  “Oh, you know.” Anjita forced a smile, but her knuckles whitened around the comb. “Tests. Shades from my past, darkest fears, and so on. Strangely enough, the Boney Man only made a token appearance.”

  Munayair smiled faintly. Rasping Bui-taran voices still thundered through her mind. You cannot run forever, little Sayakhunii.

  “By far the worst part was being without magic in that accursed cave.” Anjita’s voice was a shade too cheerful. “I’ve never felt so helpless.”

  Muna limped to the scattered contents of her saddlebags to replace the items Anjita had tossed aside. She fetched their bedrolls, laid them out, and sat on hers with a sigh.

  “I suppose you’ll be going home now.” Anjita winced as her comb caught in a knot.

  Munayair frowned. “Why do you say that?”

  Anjita shook her head. “You told me the adept who found you had to convince your family to let you go,” she said. “I can’t even imagine!” She laughed, a real laugh this time, tossing her hair back and twining it into a frizzy braid.

  Munayair dug her hands into the sand and watched the fine grains filter through her fingers. Anjita tied off her plait and moved behind Munayair to braid her hair too.

  As Anjita tugged, Munayair winced. “What about you? Did the spirits tell you where to find your prentice?”

  “Al-Thina, which is lucky since I was planning to go there anyway. Ma will have some choice words to say about me not going home, but she’ll have to catch me first!” Anjita laughed again.

  Silence fell. Munayair watched the horizon grow lighter than the ground.

  Anjita pressed on. “Did ... did the spirits say anything about your prentice?”

  “They said a lot of things. I don’t remember everything.” Munayair shifted. She chewed on her lip as Anjita braided in silence. “I need to find someone,” she said at length. “Or maybe more than one person. The man who is no man, the golden son. Deathbringer.”

  “How mysterious.” Anjita chuckled, tying Munayair’s hair off and crawling over to her bedroll. “Bet he’s a looker. They gave me the distinct impression I would be wiping snot off mine.” All the ghosts had fled Anjita’s face; her eyes sparkled. They snuggled inside their bedrolls and lay in silence under the road to heaven. Anjita raised her head on one hand. “Do you still want to come with me?” she asked. “We’d planned to go together, but if you do want to go home ...”

  “Of course I’m still coming with you.” Munayair’s heart thumped hard.

  “Good.” Anjita leaned back onto her pillow with a grin. “That’s settled, at least.”

  Comfortable silence reigned. Munayair’s eyes drifted closed, but she forced them open again. Her entire body ached with exhaustion. The eastern sky grew steadily lighter—they had passed the entire night away.

  “Are you asleep?” Anjita whispered, sitting up and hugging her knees. “I didn’t even tell you. I punched Gora for saying you failed because you’re Sayakhunii.” Her voice tightened. “She’ll have a fat lip for a few days, at least.”

  Munayair shook her head, glancing over at Anjita. “You needn’t have.”

  “Well.” Anjita shrugged. “I can’t say it didn’t feel good. Gora’s been asking for it since we were reds. Adept Futsu told me off, but she felt the same way. She gets pretty riled under that callous exterior. The worst part is I’ve hurt my hand on Gora’s iron skull ...”

  Munayair let the words sluice over her like rainwater. She thought, if I fall asleep now, I’ll wake to find it was all a terrible dream.

  “... of course Jamura made a huge fuss, crying like anything, but you know what she’s like ...”

  The sun is about to show his face.

  Munayair blinked. The voice echoed in her mind, distinct from her own thoughts, familiar and comforting. Beyond Anjita’s head, a silver shadow slipped between the standing stones.

  I’m here.

  She closed her eyes, even though her entire body shivered with energy. Eventually the flow of Anjita’s words slowed and she slumped back into her bedroll. Soon her breathing grew low and even, and she didn’t stir when Munayair whispered her name.

  Munayair pushed back her blanket and stood. She glanced back once at Anjita’s peaceful face before turning and racing down the moonlit slope towards the standing stones. Above her, stars wheeled in their giddy celestial dance. Howler hovered over the western horizon, bright as a coin in the velvety darkness of the sky. The desert sands glowed silver in the lunar light, and she dug her toes into the cool sand. She called her witchlight into being, smiling as she saw eyes glowing from the shadows of the rough stones.

  “Av.” She sank to her knees and stretched out a hand. “Why are you hiding, silly? She’s asleep.”

  A moment of hesitation. Then a hulking form stepped from the shadows, silver-grey in the moonlight. An enormous bear, over ten spans at the shoulder, with ash-blond fur and soft blue eyes. He approached with raised hackles, nostrils flaring as he tested the air. A low moan came out from between his teeth.

  You stink of magic, Avlingai growled as he came near her outstretched hand. Ancient magic. A river ever flowing but never reaching the sea.

  “How poetic we are, Av,” she teased, rubbing the silky fur growing on his long nose. He was warm—almost hot—to the touch, as solid as the standing stones themselves. She drew in a breath for what felt like the first time since the previous morning as she ran her hand over his broad forehead. He leaned in closer, tongue protruding from between his lips as she gently scratched behind his ears.

  You sang a song of sorrow not long ago, he said, cracking one eye to look at her once more. I was pained I could not help you.

  She surprised herself by smiling. “Father was right after all.”

  I wish I could save you from all sorrow, he said, sinking next to her and resting his head on his front paws. Sit with me, and we will let the light of the daystar’s rebirth burn away our pain.

  Leaning against him, she relished his radiating warmth. They sat in silence for a time as the sky over the eastern hills gathered incandescent light. Scattered clouds burned orange and red, like fire. Munayair burrowed closer to Avlingai, tucking her face into his fur. She could never decide if his scent of musk and honey was disgusting or not. Right now, it calmed her.

  Together they watched the sun slowly climbing f
rom behind the mountains, flooding the desert with warm light. Avlingai nosed at her shoulder.

  I must leave now. Do not sorrow too much when I cannot be here to comfort you.

  He rose. She sat with chin on knees, watching as he walked behind the standing stones and disappeared.

  Book Two: Journeyer

  Chapter 10: Geshuu’s Heir

  The next morning, Munayair woke late and groggy, long after the sun was risen. She stumbled out of her bedroll and immediately began her sparring warmup, as was her daily habit. For a few moments all was silence and peace as she moved from form to form, jabbing and stretching with both hands and feet. After a while her body was warmed and so was her brain. She turned and saw the Marble Hall rising from the salt plain less than a league away. Only then did she remember: I’ve been sundered.

  She froze halfway between one form and the next. For a moment she longed to just give up and sink back into her bedroll next to the still-sleeping Anjita. Forget about the rules and structures of life in the Marble Hall. Perhaps Prentice Sarem-Ori, promising glyphmaster and aspiring teacher, should be diligent and disciplined. Who cared if Munayair, nothing and nobody, just slept all day?

  No. She firmed her jaw and continued her exercises with even more vigor, until she was panting and dripping sweat under Sorath’s unblinking eye. At some point Anjita also woke, thankfully making no comment, and wandered about doing her own irregular morning routine. Once Munayair finished, she immediately began rolling up bedrolls. Then she inventoried the supplies, tucking away packets of hardtack and ox jerky. Anything to distract her from the hall looming like a warning, all blazing white walls and long black shadows in the morning sun.

  They hurried to leave the desert before the heat became oppressive. Beyond the mountains to the northwest lay the grasslands of Sayakhun, east the tangled forests of Thinavaru, and south the mountain ranges of Dakhosam and Andustava. They chose the east road, shooting straight as an arrow across the valley into the Blue Hills.

  As they trudged over salt flats towards the wavering mountains, Munayair steeled herself not to look back. Ihe words of the guardians rang through her mind.