by Evan Winter
“The trip down and up the mountain will take too long,” Hadith told Kellan. “We’ll deprive ourselves of half our strength, and I don’t think the half crossing the flatlands can make good enough time to cut Kana off.”
“We could take the chance,” Kellan said.
“And what if Kana’s scouts notice our depleted numbers? The Xiddeen could turn on us, decimating the half in the mountains, then doing the same to the second half, when they meet them outside the Curse.”
Tau thought of his mother. She was back in the impromptu camp that had been set up before they’d begun the chase. She was with Hafsa and a few others.
“We’re not going to divide our force. We’ll just have to move faster,” the queen said from her horse.
Tsiora looked tired enough to fall out of the saddle. She was unaccustomed to rough travel, the endless days, and poor food, but she hadn’t complained. It was the opposite with her. She helped where she could, led at all times, and when she’d first seen Tau, after Keep Onai, she’d seemed so uncertain with him.
She’d approached him like he was a skittish horse and, after a time in silence, reached out, taking his hands. She’d spoken to him, soft hands holding his. Tau couldn’t remember a word of what she’d said. They weren’t what mattered. It was her presence that made a dent in his grief.
Thinking back on it, Tau wished Jelani could have been there to see him. Though they’d shared warmer moments growing up, she’d always been quick to treat him like a shameful secret in public, and he’d wanted to see the look on her face when she noticed him holding hands with the queen.
Tau laughed, startling Yaw, who was marching near him. He kept laughing, his tears flowing freely. He’d seen Jelani’s face. He’d seen it exactly as Kana had wanted him to.
The sound of galloping hooves pulled him a small distance from the pain. It was Nyah, riding double with Thandi. They’d left the vizier’s daughter in the camp with Hafsa, and Nyah had stopped off with Thandi a span ago. It had been time for Thandi to meet with the other Edifiers, and she couldn’t do it easily if she was moving in Uhmlaba.
“What word?” Tsiora asked them when they were close. They’d been riding hard and Nyah’s horse was slick with sweat.
“It’s from the Shadow Council,” Thandi said. “Lelise says Odili has restricted who among the Gifted can send or receive edifications for him. Lelise is no longer trusted enough to do it, but she managed to spy on one of the Gifted who is.”
“And what did Gifted Lelise learn?” the queen asked.
“Odili told General Bisi that we have a Lesser as our grand general. He’s asked Bisi to return to Palm so that he can be elevated to the Royal Noble caste and given the position of grand general under Queen Esi Omehia.”
“And Bisi’s response?” the queen asked.
“There was none, but he’s begun marching for the capital at the head of three military rages.”
Three military rages, Tau thought. His mind couldn’t picture it. That was more than thirteen thousand soldiers.
“Bring us Buhari,” Queen Tsiora said.
Hadith got there quickly, and he had Kellan with him. Night had fallen, the path they’d been following had become little more than a trail, and with steep cliffs to the south and crumbling ground beneath them, the decision was made to stop for the night. The terrain was too treacherous to navigate in the dark.
“I can think of two things it could mean,” Hadith told the queen. “Bisi intends to accept Odili’s offer and fight with him against us, or he plans to join us in the attack on Palm City.”
“Which do you suppose it is, General?” Tsiora asked him.
“I suppose the general was purposeful when he didn’t answer Odili’s edification because, if the thing he intends goes wrong, he can deny it was actually his intention.”
“You think he’s going to side with Odili,” Tsiora said.
“I do, but he’s guarding against the unknown. He’s not even telling Odili his plan, but Odili should be able to come to the same conclusion as we do here.”
“What does this do to the numbers?” she asked.
“Nothing good,” Hadith said. “We have six thousand in our army, Odili has two, and Bisi is marching with thirteen.”
Tau spoke then, getting to the crux of it. “What do we do?”
“Win Palm City,” Hadith said. “We need to win the city and remove Odili from power. That leaves Bisi with no choice but to accept Queen Tsiora as the rightful monarch.”
“Won’t he just run us over with his thirteen thousand soldiers?” Tau asked.
Kellan shook his head. “General Bisi is known for valuing reputation, lawfulness, and discipline. He’s a man who’d rather die than be shamed or thought of as having done something improper.”
Watching Kellan, Tau thought he already knew someone who sounded like that.
“Bisi may take Odili’s offer to make him a grand general and Royal Noble, if it can be done in a way that seems lawful,” Kellan said. “But if we defeat Odili, the only avenue left to a man of Bisi’s code will be to accept Queen Tsiora.”
“How long will it take him to bring his three military dragons from the Curse to Palm?” Tsiora asked.
“Kellan? Is it half a moon?” Hadith asked.
“Half a moon to march them there,” Kellan confirmed.
“How long for us to get to Palm from here?” Tsiora asked.
“Five days,” Hadith said.
“Champion Solarin, a word,” the queen said.
Tau and Tsiora went to their horses, and in spite of the dark, they rode them, at barely a walk, away from the rest.
“You’re going to tell me that we need to send word to our army in Citadel City,” Tau said. “You’re going to tell me that we have to meet them on the path to Palm.”
The queen played with her horse’s reins, and she wouldn’t quite meet his eyes. “If we let Bisi get there first, he’ll decide our fates for us.”
“If I let Kana go, he’ll kill more people,” Tau said, picturing the warlord’s son burning his way across the mountains, turning fief after fief into slag heaps, just like the Omehi soldiers had done to Luapula.
“If we keep chasing him, we lose everything.”
Tau slowed his horse. “I can’t just let him go.”
“You won’t be the one doing it,” she said. “Your queen will give that order. Come, Tau. Let’s go back to Kerem and burn our dead.”
He clenched his jaw hard enough to make his teeth ache. “It’s blood I wanted, not tears.”
“The Goddess knows that, and, sometimes, She gives us what we need instead of what we want.” She reached out for him. “Shall we tell the others the decision?”
The anger Tau felt at having to let Kana go was close to being too much to leash. “My queen, would you go ahead?”
Understanding that he needed time, she turned her horse to return to the others. “Will you be a while?” she asked before leaving.
“It will not seem so,” he said, taking himself to the demons.
PRICE
Only a few spans passed in Uhmlaba, but Tau hunted and butchered for days, fighting until his mind began to crack under the crush of the endless slaughter and torture. He fought until his rage burned itself out, its final blaze emptying his soul of everything he thought he was, leaving him with visions of a world that mixed the realm of his birth with the one that had forged him.
And back in Uhmlaba, curled up in a ball on the ground, he shook and sweated like he was fevered. He saw demons in every shadow, and the mountains were filled with Isihogo’s mists, its fog grabbing at him with the edges of its smoky claws as he fought for sanity. It took more than a span for him to feel human again, and coming back to himself hadn’t been so horrible since his very first trips to Isihogo.
Weak as a child, he tried to go to Fury, but she seemed to sense something on him and shied away, unwilling to let him get close. He made himself speak softly to her, and sick as he felt, Tau t
old her that he was fine, asking her not to worry and soothing her so that she’d let him ride.
Later that night, riding past the shell that had once been Keep Onai, he followed the glow from the funeral pyres. When he got closer, he could make out the silhouetted shapes of those who had gathered to see the dead take the last step on their path, and in the dark, backlit by flames, the mourners on the mountainside looked like weakening Gifted struggling to shroud their souls’ glow.
One of the Indlovu who knew the horses took Fury, and with his mind blank, Tau walked over to where the funerals were taking place.
“Champion.”
“Yes, Priestess,” Tau said to Hafsa as she hurried over.
“I’m glad I found you.” Her face, and the discomfort in it at being so near him, betrayed that lie. “I didn’t think I’d be able to in the crowd. Your mother, she was determined to attend the burning. She’s there now, with one of my aides, and she’s asking for you…. ”
“Of course. Will you take me to her?”
Hafsa nodded. “Her … injuries, they’ve been cleaned and treated, but there was a lot of pain, as you can imagine. I’ve given her something for that. She’ll be tired, weak, and when she can do no more for the night, I’d appreciate it if you brought her to the hospital tent. I’d like to continue her care.”
“As you wish,” Tau said, his relief that he’d be able to hand his mother back to the priestess steeped in shame.
The queen, shadowed by Nyah and the handmaidens, approached.
“May we accompany you?” Tsiora said, her eyes searching his. “We would meet your mother, and offer our condolences in person.”
With no reasonable way to deny the queen’s request, Tau mumbled his gratitude, and as a group, they walked up to the mass burning. It was taking place in the same large field where many of Kerem’s celebrations were held. It was the same large field where Tau had danced with Zuri after being made a man, but it looked different that night with the crowds and, beyond them, the bodies.
The dead had been wrapped in lye-whitened linen and placed onto hundreds of unlit pyres surrounding the massive beacon fire that burned in the center of the field. Ihagu, Ihashe, and Indlovu stood at attention, ready to ignite the smaller pyres with the peat-moss torches they held.
The shifting firelight from the torches and beacon fire made everyone’s shadows undulate. It looked like the spirits of the deceased moved among them, still clinging to some vestige of life and waiting impatiently for their release. Three fire-silhouetted figures, far off in the distance, even looked like they were Xiddeen—two warriors flanking a shaman. Perhaps they’d fallen in the raid and their spirits sought release too, Tau thought, blinking them away.
“She’s there,” Hafsa said, and she was.
Tau’s mother, washed and dressed in a blue robe, was facing the beacon fire. She had a bandage wrapped round her head, covering the ruins of her eyes, and she held herself with her arms, as if it were possible to be cold in the night’s natural swelter and so near the fire.
“Mother,” Tau said, standing three strides distant.
“Tau …”
“The queen is coming.”
Without moving her body at all, Imani Tafari turned her head to him, and even with the strip of bandage wrapped round her face, she was striking.
“The queen, Tau?”
“I—I am her champion.”
“Yes, I’d heard but didn’t believe.” Imani turned back to the fire. “What could she ever want with you?”
Tau’s neck and scalp felt hot. He’d never been able to face his mother, and when he tried to respond, nothing came out but more stuttering. The queen, who had held back to give them space, came forward, saving him.
“Imani Tafari, we are Queen Tsiora and we are here, feeling your great loss, our heart bleeding for you and yours.”
Tau’s mother turned to the queen, giving her a deep bow. “My queen, you honor me. My son and I are not worthy of your kindness and care. Goddess bless you, always.”
“Rise, Imani Tafari,” the queen said, taking Tau’s mother’s hands. “We are here for you. We are here for you and your son, our champion.”
“It really is true, then?” Imani said. “He is your champion?”
“He is.”
“It is my greatest hope that he serves you well. It is my greatest hope that he lives and dies for you, my queen.”
Tsiora’s eyebrows drew together, and then the queen’s mask was back, and her face became placid. “Champion Solarin is a gift.”
“Solarin?” Imani said. “Yes, it was his father’s name. I thought it died with Aren, but what could be more wonderful than to honor that brave man?”
The queen inclined her head, and realizing Imani could not see it, she took one of her hands out of Imani’s and used her free hand to pat the one that she still held.
“The Goddess will welcome your loved ones tonight,” Tsiora said. “Your husband …”
“Makena Tafari, Your Grace.”
“She’ll welcome Makena and your daughter, Jelani.”
“They were the whole of my life,” Tau’s mother said, and Tau noticed when the queen’s eyes flashed to him.
“Of course,” Tsiora said. “Imani, may we call you Imani?”
“Your Grace.”
“Imani, we will leave you to grieve with your son, but know that you may call on us.”
Another bow, this one deeper. “My queen. We are not worthy.”
Tsiora began to leave, and though she did not dally, it seemed to Tau that she was hesitant to go.
“Give me your hand, boy,” Imani said.
Tau did and she pulled him close, drawing him next to her.
“Where is she?” Imani said into his ear.
“The queen goes to begin the ceremony.”
“How many can hear me?” she asked, tightening her grip.
Tau looked around them. “None, if you whisper.”
She dug her nails into the back of his hand. “What have you done, Tau? What have you done?”
He tried to pull his hand away, but his mother’s hold was hard as bronze.
“He asked for you,” she said. “The man with his hair twisted and locked like a Sah priest.” Her nails were drawing blood. “He made me memorize words for you. He made me memorize them as he sawed his knife through your sister’s neck.”
Tau tried to pull away again, and he was like a child to her.
“‘For my father, Common of Kerem.’ That’s what he said to me when he killed her. ‘This is for my father!’”
“Mother—”
“What did you do, demon spawn? I gave you life and watched you grow. I know who and what you are. I know what stock you come from, and you are no champion.”
Tau snatched his hand free and his mother scrabbled about, searching for him until she seized a handful of his tunic, pulling him back to her.
“I hear you’re powerful,” she whispered. “I hear you’re strong, stronger even than your father was, and more powerful than any Lesser has ever been. Is it true? Is it, Tau?”
“Mother, please …”
“Answer me, boy. Is it true?”
“I can fight,” Tau told her, tears springing to his eyes. “And I can kill, Mother. Oh, I can kill.”
“Good,” she said. “Good, because I want you to kill.” She ran her hands up his arms, placing them on his shoulders and near his neck. “I want you to kill everyone responsible. You hear?”
Tau’s mouth wouldn’t work.
“Do you hear me, Tau … Solarin?”
“I hear you, Mother.”
She leaned in farther and he could smell the dried blood beneath her bandages. She was so close their lips were near to touching.
“You made a deal with Ukufa, neh? You let him corrupt you, so you could be more than the Goddess intended. Well, the Insatiate has claimed his price and now I will name mine.”
Tau pulled back, making as much space as he could with her nails
dug in, clawlike, on his neck.
“You must burn them all for what they did to us,” she said. “Promise it to me. Promise me you’ll make the ones responsible for Makena and Jelani …” She made a strangled sound in the back of her throat. “Promise me you’ll make them suffer!”
“Mother, I—”
“Promise it.” She grew louder. “Promise it! Promise it, Tau! Help me hate you a little less and promise it!”
She wasn’t going to stop.
“I promise,” he said.
She showed her teeth, sharp and white. “Again,” she said.
“I promise.”
She pulled him against her, holding him there.
“We only have each other now, and we’ll do it together,” she said.
“Yes, Mother.”
“Tell me when we leave.”
The night flared with light from the pyres. The soldiers had lit them.
“In the morning,” Tau said. “We leave in the morning.”
She let him go and faced the flames, unable to see the fires that consumed the bodies of her husband and daughter and everyone from the life she’d known and lost.
“We’ll make it worth it,” she said to him. “I swear it to Ananthi and Ukufa, we’ll make the power you were given worth its cost.”
FAMILY
He came into the tent quietly enough that Tau wouldn’t have heard him if he’d been sleeping, but after the burning and speaking with his mother, Tau couldn’t rest. So when the shadow entered his tent and stood at the foot of his bedroll, hunched over to fit into the small, dark space, Tau knew it was him by the hooded cloak he always wore.
“Jabari,” Tau said.
Nothing.
“I should have found you tonight,” Tau said. “You were mourning as well.”
The Petty Noble put a hand covered in burn scars to his neck, pressing his fingers there to help his throat make the right sounds. “Lekan,” he said.
Tau sat up at the name, his eyes seeking his swords. They were in the far corner of the tent where he’d put them, but his guardian dagger was beside the bedroll and within reach. Moving slowly, he leaned on his elbow toward it when Jabari swung round and left the tent, his cloak billowing behind him.