by K A Doore
They’d already been quieted. The realization hit her like a fist. Which meant what she was doing—
The guul were gone. Warmth spread up her arm and across her chest. She was hot all over, as if she’d swallowed coals. Heat prickled her skin uncomfortably and sweat beaded fresh on her brow. Worst, though, were her bracelets, their hot metal grating against raw skin. And the heat was intensifying, accompanied by an insistent urge to act.
In a reflex as involuntary as breathing, Illi reached out again. But this time, her mind scraped across something cold and sharp. She pushed, but the sharp bit back, as painful as broken glass.
Illi’s eyes flew open. She didn’t remember closing them. Merrabel was no longer watching her with curiosity, but glaring with anger. Her cheeks were a bright pink, as if she’d been slapped. A soft glow faded around her neck.
Too late, Illi realized her error. She’d tried to take Merrabel’s jaani, but whatever charms she wore had protected her.
“Well, that was illuminating,” said Merrabel, tone clipped. “Don’t ever do that again.”
17
In the back of the lab, half hidden by a pile of dirty rags and broken instruments, was another door. Merrabel opened it to reveal a small room, choked with dust but fitted with a washbasin, a pitcher of water, a cot, a chamber pot, and a barred window set high in the wall. Cool evening light filtered in through the window and only then did Illi feel the first brush of real fatigue.
“These are your quarters,” said Merrabel. “A servant will be by with food shortly.”
Illi gave the room a cursory glance, then turned back to Merrabel. “Is this your room?”
Merrabel laughed, but the sound held no humor. “Of course not. But some of my experiments require attention day and night, and it has been helpful to have a room close by.”
“And if I need to leave…?”
Merrabel placed her hand on the door. “A servant will be by shortly,” she repeated, then stepped back from the door. “Good night.”
Before Illi could ask any more questions, Merrabel shut the door with a thud of finality. The lock clicked a moment later and Illi bristled. What would it take to earn Merrabel’s trust? Illi had already willingly gone with her, willingly turned on Heru. Or did Merrabel suspect Illi was holding information back?
If she did, then she’d be right.
As Merrabel had promised, a servant appeared a few minutes later. Illi had pulled the cot over and was standing on it, examining the bars on the window, when she heard a polite knock. Before she could fully get down from the cot, a servant had opened the door, set a dish of food down, and closed and locked the door once more. Illi reached the dish just as she heard another door shut, this time on the other side of the lab.
The smell of stewed apricots and roasted almonds reminded her that she hadn’t eaten since this morning. After cleaning the plate, she set it back on the floor where the servant had left it, then considered the door. Merrabel thought a locked door would keep her in. Well, Illi would just have to use that misunderstanding to her advantage.
Illi slid two picks from one of her braids and had the lock popped in a matter of seconds. With a gentle shove, the door opened onto Merrabel’s darkened lab. The cheerful chaos of before now felt crushing in the gloom. Even if Illi had been tempted to use Merrabel’s lab for her own experiments, she wouldn’t know where to begin. No wonder Heru emphasized order so much.
Experiments weren’t her goal tonight, anyway. She’d had enough of those to last her for days. No, she needed to learn more about Merrabel and Hathage, and the only way she could do that was if she left and explored the city.
So Illi slid her picks into the second lock and leaned her head against the warm wood as she felt her way around the lock’s mechanisms. She closed her eyes, breathing in the door’s faint, oily scent and wondering how much the wood must have cost as her pick cleared one tumbler, then another. This lock was more complicated than the first, but it still clicked under her hand.
Illi’s smile grew. Merrabel thought she could contain a cousin, did she? Illi opened the door. Stepped into the hall. And froze.
A wall of soldiers greeted her. Their swords weren’t drawn, but they didn’t need to be to make their threat clear.
“You’re not allowed to leave the lab, mar,” said one. After a heartbeat he added, almost apologetically, “General’s orders.”
Illi’s smile wavered. Her eyes flicked to the soldier’s hand, settled on his sword, and in that instant, she could see the path to seizing that weapon for herself. But then she’d still be one cousin against a half dozen armed soldiers. It wasn’t a fight she could reasonably win.
Not alone.
Heat thrummed in her chest in time with her pulse. It would be so easy. They were mere mortals; they’d have no chance against her.
One pair of eyes stood out from the rest, narrowed with suspicion instead of wariness. The rest of the soldier’s face was hidden by a silver tagel; only two of the soldiers in the group wore tagels, the others choosing instead to leave their expressions open to all. But even without the tagel, the soldier’s style of wrap and the kinds of knots they’d used reminded her of Ghadid.
That familiarity cut into Illi’s awareness and she realized how close she was to letting the sajaami kill those soldiers. Her smile withered and bile burned her throat. She stumbled back inside and shut the door between them, harder than was necessary. She leaned against the wood and felt more than heard the lock click from the other side as she waited for her heart to slow, her hands to stop shaking.
That had been too close.
She still needed out; she cast around the lab for an alternative, but the windows were high and too narrow for her body to fit through. Illi turned and turned, but the lab offered no other way out. She was stuck, at least for now, at least for tonight. She took a deep breath, then another. She hadn’t used the sajaami, that had to count for something. She was still in control.
If she was going to be stuck in here tonight, then she’d make the best of it.
She headed for Merrabel’s desk. But when she reached the stacks of papers, she hesitated. Not alone, the sajaami had said. It had offered to help her multiple times, and although its offer was insincere at the least and most likely a trap, what harm was there in pretending to consider? Merrabel might have her years of study as an en-marabi, but Illi had something much better: the sajaami itself.
“Why?” She let the word out in a near-voiceless breath.
The warmth in her chest had cooled to skin temperature. Illi could feel her own pulse under the palms of her hands as she leaned against the desk. Her scalp was itchy, her hair stiff with dust, and she could still smell camel on her wrap. Maybe she should be cleaning herself up instead of whispering to spirits in the darkness. She was just about to push away from the desk and do just that when:
We both have little to lose and much to gain.
Illi’s laugh came out as more of a cough. “What could I possibly gain from you? You’re the one trapped, last time I checked. If I let you go, you’ll destroy me and everything I love. I don’t see the benefit here.”
I have existed for countless millennia that your simple mortal mind cannot comprehend. The knowledge I possess would fill your libraries a thousandfold. My mere presence in your body is already a boon to your kind.
“Good, good,” said Illi. “I’ll be able to pass all that knowledge on when you burn through my body like that guuli did to Amilcem.”
It doesn’t have to go that way.
Illi snorted. “Right. I’m sure you can control it. Just as I’m sure you can keep all the other promises you’ve made. If you’re so all-knowing and powerful, how’d you get stuck in a vial hanging from a ceiling?” She paused, remembering that dusty afternoon surrounded by shattered glass, the memory now tinged with the smell of blood and fear. There’d been other memories then, memories not her own. Of a sea, of fire, and of darkness.
The sajaami didn’t know e
verything. It couldn’t, because it’d been trapped inside stone for so long. Maybe she had something to trade after all.
“If you were to go free now, what would you do? Where would you go?” asked Illi, quieter this time. “Do you even know how much the world has changed since you were bound?”
Mortals such as yourself still infest the world, so … not much.
“And the other sajaam?”
The others … started the sajaami, only to grow quiet.
“They’re still bound to stone,” said Illi. “You’re the only one that’s been released. And, considering how much planning and effort it took the Empress, you’re probably the last.”
No. Impossible. I am not the last. I will not be the last. There will be a way, once I am free of— The sajaami seemed to catch itself. The thrum of its heat cooled, hardened. You will help me.
“We’ll see about that.”
Illi closed her eyes and the room spun, the desk the only thing keeping her upright. Talking to the sajaami was surprisingly taxing. A part of her ached and stretched, seeking what she knew wasn’t there. She’d need to find more guul eventually. Because if she didn’t …
Illi didn’t want to think about that. For now, all she could do was try to rest.
* * *
Illi was halfway out of the cot before she recognized a sound had woken her. She paused with her feet hanging over the side, just brushing the floor, and pulled the sheets around her tight, listening. But she couldn’t hear anything over the thud of her own pulse and the occasional whistle of wind outside the window.
Let me help.
Before Illi could think of a reason to say no, she felt the sajaami reach. She didn’t try to stop it; she didn’t have time. In an instant, her awareness had extended beyond the door, brushing through the empty lab like a breeze. No, not empty. There: a spot of warmth.
The sajaami retreated without her willing it and Illi stayed still for a heartbeat longer, trying to understand as her wrists burned. Someone was in Merrabel’s lab, but it hadn’t felt like Merrabel. The room was dark, the window a rectangle of black, which meant dawn was still hours away. So who was here, and why were they approaching her room?
Illi stood and, on silent feet, crossed her small space. She pressed her ear against the door and listened. There: the scuff of shoe on stone. Close. Too close.
A hand thudded on the other side of the door, as loud as a hammer. Illi jumped.
“I know you’re awake.” A man’s voice, as unfamiliar as it was unexpected. Illi cast around the room for a weapon, but there was only the ceramic chamber pot. That’d work.
“I’ve already picked one lock; this one won’t take me long,” continued the man outside her door. “But I haven’t come here to threaten you.” A pause, then, “You’re from Ghadid.”
“So are you,” said Illi, knowing it was true, knowing now that he must be the soldier in the silver tagel from the hallway.
“Who hired you?”
“—what?”
“You’re from Ghadid,” repeated the soldier. “And here you are, sneaking about within the general’s own chambers. Does she know what you are?”
Illi remained silent, too confused to answer. How could he possibly know about the sajaami? And even if he did, that was between her and Merrabel, not one of her soldiers.
“I would’ve thought you’d be better trained than this,” continued the soldier.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Then let me spell it out for you.” The soldier shifted on the other side of the door, fabric rustling across wood. “You’re an assassin. Someone hired you to kill the general. And I can’t allow that.”
Illi’s throat tightened. She tried to laugh, but it came out as a wheeze. “What?”
“Who sent you? Was it the drum chiefs? The Serpent? Was it Amastan?” His voice wavered slightly on the last name.
Illi started at the names, warmth at their familiarity mixing with cold confusion. “Who are you?”
“So you don’t dispute my accusations.”
“Are you sane?” asked Illi, incredulous. But she didn’t wait for an answer. “The drum chiefs have better things to worry about than some iluk they don’t know in a kingdom they don’t care about. And the Serpent is dead.”
“She’s dead?” The soldier let out a breathy laugh, somewhere between relief and bitterness. “At least there’s some justice left in this world.”
“I take it you weren’t on good terms,” said Illi. “But how do you know Drum Chief Amastan?”
A sharp intake of breath came from the other side of the door. “Drum Chief?”
Illi relaxed a little, letting the door take more of her weight. If he didn’t know … “When was the last time you were in Ghadid?”
Silence for a heartbeat, two, then, “It’s been a while.”
“Who are you?” repeated Illi. When no answer came, Illi ground her teeth. “I’m not here to kill your general or anybody else, I can swear on that. I don’t know how you know about my cousins, but things have changed since you were last in Ghadid. If you tell me who you are, maybe I’ll be willing to tell you more.” She paused a heartbeat, then added, “You miss it, don’t you.”
If she closed her eyes, she fancied she could hear the soldier breathing, quick and shallow. If he’d really thought she was here to kill Merrabel, he wouldn’t be questioning her through a door. Which meant he was after something else. Maybe she could make a trade.
“Captain Yufit Uzbamen,” said the soldier. “Of the King’s Royal Border Guard. Colloquially known as the Guul Guard.”
Any hope that she’d recognize the name was fleeting. Instead she flushed; would this captain know Canthem? Maybe she could ask him if they were okay. But no—Illi pushed the thought away as soon as she’d had it. Canthem was gone from her life, hopefully for good.
Still, a piece of her churned at the mere thought of them.
“Illi Basbowen,” she said, a token in return for his name.
Another sharp breath. “You are a cousin.”
“I never said I wasn’t.”
“But you said—”
“I said I wasn’t here to kill anybody,” cut in Illi. “And I didn’t lie. But things have changed; we don’t take contracts like we used to. Amastan saw to that.”
“Has he,” said the captain softly. “But I wonder if things have changed enough.”
“You didn’t know about the Serpent,” continued Illi. “Which means you haven’t been in the city since the Siege. How long have you been working with Merrabel?”
“Since the beginning,” said the captain. “Since the Empire fell.” A pause, a hesitation, as fingers scratched the wood of the door in thought, then, “It was easy enough to earn rank during all the chaos. The general needed any trustworthy bodies she could find; she didn’t worry about where they came from. She proved herself to me and I proved myself to her in turn and together we kept this city—this kingdom—from falling apart.”
“Is that why her city adores her so?” asked Illi, her tone snider than she intended.
“Of course,” returned the captain immediately. “She found the king and kept him safe. She held the trial for the governor and made sure his execution was public and clean. She chased out the Empress’s loyal followers, even purged the marab of the corrupt. She has dedicated her life to first establishing and now protecting this kingdom—you can’t fault the people for praising her.”
“I don’t,” said Illi. “But I wonder how far she’ll go.”
“As far as she needs to,” said the captain firmly.
“And you?” asked Illi. “Will you follow her that far?”
“I came here to fight monsters. As long as there are monsters to fight, I’ll follow her.” The captain cleared his throat. “But what of Ghadid? I heard it weathered the Siege better than the other Crescent cities.”
Illi’s laugh was humorless. “We survived. Mostly through luck, but also through skill
. Those assassins you’re so afraid of kept Ghadid from falling. But it was really Amastan who led us through.”
“He … helped, did he?”
“You don’t think they made him drum chief for fun, do you?”
“No.” A low, long sigh. “Drum chief. Hah.” Something clattered in the hallway and Illi felt more than heard the captain straighten and step away from the door. “I have to go.”
“You’re going to let me live for now, then?” teased Illi.
“The general doesn’t appear to be in any immediate danger,” returned the captain, cold as glass. “But I’ll be keeping a close watch on you. You and your cousins aren’t the only ones with your kind of training. If at any point I change my mind about you, you won’t even know.”
Before Illi could answer, his footsteps were clicking quietly away, soon swallowed by the night. Only by listening intently did she mark the far door opening and shutting, followed by the click of its lock.
18
Illi was shuffling through the papers on Merrabel’s desk when she heard the lock click. Some of the papers fluttered in the breeze from the door opening, but Illi didn’t look up. She’d been methodically searching Merrabel’s lab since sunrise. An empty bowl that had once held porridge sat at her elbow. The servant hadn’t seemed surprised that Illi was out of the back room.
Neither was Merrabel. “My captain informed me you attempted to leave once.”
“I figured I might as well try.”
“I appreciate your inquisitiveness.” Merrabel crossed the room, carrying a box under one arm. “But it really is for your own good.” She set the box on the desk and peered at what Illi had before her. “Can you even read that?”
Illi sighed and pushed the paper away. “No,” she admitted. “I can pick out bits and pieces, but I don’t know this language.”
“I can teach you,” said Merrabel. “That’s a treatise on the various methods used today to quiet jaan and their efficacy. It’s really quite fascinating. Here.” She lifted the lid on the box, revealing several dozen tightly wound scrolls. “These are in your language, I believe. Or close enough.”