None of the former concubines were on this load; they wanted to stay with Tamar for as long as possible. “Right,” I said. “Djinn, are you there?”
A shimmer in the air. “Yes.”
“Did Boradai tell you to obey me?”
“She said not to kill anyone, but that other than that I should do as you say.”
“I think I’m ready. I want you to lift the wagon as you would a palanquin. Make sure no one falls out while we go, but I want to be high enough that the clouds hide us from anyone below. Then fly us north, up to the steppe. Head northwest from Helladia, and tell me if you see a large gathering of people below us.”
The djinn picked up the wagon; I swallowed hard, as it felt as if my stomach was back somewhere on the ground, probably flopping around on the grass like a beached fish. We went straight up. One of the slaves was counting out loud as we rose, and she reached one hundred before we stopped going up. I clutched the handles and looked down, trusting that between my death grip and the wrapping of cloth, I wouldn’t fall. The ground was a terribly long way away, and it was a relief when we were swathed in cloud and I couldn’t see it anymore. Without really intending to, I imagined the fabric snapping, my grip failing . . . I sat back, swallowing hard. My mouth tasted very sour and the fall was much too easy to picture.
Now we were moving. Too fast. I wanted to scream at the djinn to slow down, but instead I forced myself to wait a moment or two. My hair was blown back by the wind, whipped into knots, even as short as it still was. The wind stung my eyes. The slaves in the wagon bed cried out. When I twisted around to look at them, they had ducked their heads down and covered their faces. Good idea. Now I knew why palanquins were always covered in silk, but it was a bit late for me. I let go with one hand. The cloth held me firmly in my seat, so I shielded my eyes with my free hand and watched as well as I could.
There were no landmarks, and I realized that it was going to be very hard to know where the djinn was taking us. But the Alashi should be having their spring gathering right now—that would make it easier. Tamar and I had left Helladia last spring, then walked roughly northwest for five days before running into the gathering. On horseback, we probably could have done it in a day, if we’d pushed the horses hard, but it would have been a long day. Carried by the djinn—it felt many times faster than the fastest galloping horse, but so high up, exposed to the wind, anything would have felt fast to me.
I remembered that day months ago when Zivar had dragged me out of bed to run frantically around her courtyard. The secret of flight. This isn’t so bad, I thought. I can trust the cloth to hold me in place . . . Then, without warning, the djinn suddenly pulled us up, the height of a small house. I heard screams from the wagon box. “Why did you do that?” I hissed.
“Bird,” the djinn said.
We had leveled out. But a few minutes later we bumped, then dropped a bit before steadying. “Wind,” the djinn explained that time.
Back in the wagon box, I could hear someone sobbing; others were praying out loud. A gust of wind caught our side and made the whole box sway. I wondered why sorceresses never had this problem while traveling by palanquin. Or maybe they did and I just didn’t know it. I didn’t remember anything like this the time I’d flown with Kyros, but maybe that was why Kyros didn’t like to fly . . . I grabbed the bar with the hand I’d been using to shade my eyes, then stretched the cramped fingers of my other hand. “How far have we come?”
“A few hours’ ride.”
It had been much less than a few hours. I sighed and reminded myself that I was going to have to do this again.
Another bump and sway, and somebody in the wagon box threw up. Of course, they threw up right in the wagon box, since they were (understandably) afraid to lean over the side. A few minutes later, someone else threw up. I wished I could cover my ears and hum to block out the sound. They were going to be as ragged and pathetic a group as any others who’d reached the Alashi, even if they got a short ride rather than a hard slog through the desert.
Rain began to fall. We were within the cloud itself, and the rain here was like thick fog that soaked us to the skin. I shivered, wishing I could go huddle with the others in the wagon box. At least there were enough holes in it that it wasn’t filling with water.
It was another hour or two before the djinn said, “There are men below.”
“Take us down again, slowly and quietly.”
I could hear someone speaking Danibeki; what conversation I could catch assured me that we’d found the Alashi. “Back up, and a little ways away. I don’t want to land in the camp.”
Up again, over a hill, down. “Carefully,” I hissed, but our landing was still rough enough to leave me bruised. The refugees tumbled out of the wagon, desperate to get away. I didn’t want to untie myself, so I watched as they all climbed out.
One of the younger women turned back. “My lady, we don’t know your name. When they ask us who freed us, what should we say?”
I laughed. “They’ll like you better if you freed yourselves.”
“That would be a lie. I never could have made it on my own.”
“Then tell them Boradai freed you. That’s the truth, after all.”
“I’ve never liked Boradai. I’d rather you get the credit.”
“Believe me, the Alashi are annoyed enough at me already.”
She was puzzled, but shrugged and turned back to the others. “Thank you,” she said. “I hope Arachne and Prometheus guard your path.”
“I can use all the help I can get.”
I didn’t stay to watch them approach the Alashi camp; I didn’t want to be nearby when the Alashi came looking. “Take me back to Boradai,” I said. Then, hesitantly I added, “As fast as you can.”
I had thought that if the djinn’s top speed was too fast to be comfortable, I could always shout at him to slow back down . . . but this turned out not to be so easy. The wind was screaming in my ears, and I had to let go of the handholds and shield my face with both my arms. We plunged at some point and I thought I heard the squawk of a startled bird somewhere behind us, or perhaps the djinn was just enjoying the opportunity to torment me. “Slow down,” I tried to shriek, but the djinn must have been able to avoid hearing me because our speed did not decrease.
Finally we stopped and hovered in the air for a moment. “Soft landing!” I managed to spit out. We plunged for an unending moment, then slowed and settled back on the ground as lightly as a blown feather.
My hands were so cold I could hardly bend my fingers; Tamar untied me and let me climb down to rest for a few minutes. The sun was up, but the clouds hadn’t burned off yet; all that excitement in so little time. “The wagon needs to be cleaned,” I said, and collapsed, shaking, to the ground.
“You shouldn’t have to go twice,” Tamar said. “I can go this time.”
“No—it’s all right. Perhaps this time I’ll bring a bucket for people to pass around as they vomit. Keep the wagon a bit cleaner . . .”
“What do you think we should do with Sophos’s head?” Tamar asked.
“What does Jaran want done with it?”
“He said to ask you what you thought.”
“Huh.” I wondered if it was still lying on the ground, staring up at the sky. “If I could, I’d leave it on Kyros’s desk like a paperweight.”
“Oh, I like that idea,” Tamar said. It wasn’t until I heard her talking to Boradai that I realized she was actually going to carry through on it. This is probably a bad idea, I thought. At least I’d have a chance to rest while the djinn ran its grisly errand, but . . . I stood up and saw the head rising up into the air. Too late. Boradai could always call it back, but I didn’t want to ask her for a favor, not when I’d stated just hours ago that her debt was repaid. I sat back down to rest while I could.
All too quickly, the djinn returned. Jaran approached me as I stood up. “I’d like to ride where I can see,” he said. “Can I sit beside you?”
“I guess so. T
amar can tie both of us on.”
Everyone climbed on—including the one who’d insisted he didn’t care what happened to him. Apparently he’d changed his mind. “Last chance to get on, if you want a fast trip up to the steppe,” I called. “Last chance to get off, if you don’t like being carried by djinni.”
“Wait just a moment,” one young man pleaded, climbing out of the wagon. He ran over to where the eight who’d chosen to remain slaves were waiting. A few minutes later, he returned with an older woman held firmly by one arm.
“It’s her choice,” I said.
“She’s choosing to come with us,” the man said. She nodded reluctantly. Well, if she decides she really wants to be a slave, the Alashi will oblige her, I thought. They settled into the bottom of the wagon box. Tamar brought fabric over and bound both me and Jaran to our seats. I wished I had time to rig some sort of hat or veil, but wound up wrapping a scarf around my head and pulling most of it over my face, tucking it in as well as I could.
It was easier this time, now that I had some idea of what to expect, from the lurch in my stomach as the djinn lifted us up to the screams of dismay from the wagon box as we started to move. I didn’t have to try to watch over the side, since the djinn knew where we were going. “Try to vomit in the bucket,” I suggested. “It’ll keep things cleaner.”
Jaran was white-faced but kept quiet as we started flying—no screams or vomiting. After a while he turned toward me. “So we met, last year, but I can’t say I really knew you very well,” he said. He had to shout to be heard over the wind; it wasn’t exactly a private conversation. “The djinni had a little bit of an interest in you even then, though.”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that, so I made some noncommittal noise that was lost in the rush of air.
“Have you figured out what you were meant to do, yet? Freeing slaves, is that it?”
“I’m going to free the rivers,” I said, the words slipping out before I thought the better of it.
“Really? How are you going to manage that?”
“I don’t know.”
There was a pause, and Jaran gave me a surprised shrug. “Well. I was going to tell you that I thought you were crazy, but the Fair One seems to think you really will.” He still sounded doubtful, which was reasonable, since if I hadn’t been fevered, I would have thought it was a crazy idea, too. It took me a moment to remember that the Fair One was the djinn who spoke with him sometimes.
“When are you going to free the rivers?” Jaran asked. Behind us, we heard someone retching. I hoped they had the bucket handy.
“I need to free Prax first,” I said. “I’m not sure how I’m going to do that, either.”
“Prax is the mine slave?”
“Tamar told you? Did she tell you my idea? She doesn’t like it very much.”
“She said you had an idea, but it was crazy and she wasn’t going to help you with it,” Jaran said.
“We can’t talk to Prax because he’s not a shaman. My idea is to poison the food of the Greek soldiers and help the mine slaves escape while they’re sick. But to gain access to the food, to talk to Prax, we need someone who can actually go down to the mine. I thought maybe I could have Tamar sell me into slavery there, and once I’m there . . .”
“That is a stupid plan,” Jaran said.
“It’s the best I’ve come up with.”
“Well, it’s no wonder Tamar didn’t like it.”
“Tamar’s idea was to dress as merchants and bring lots of things to sell, and then to throw in a sick lamb as a gift at the end, in the hopes that would sicken them.”
“Sounds like a better idea than yours.”
“Well, except that the mine guards are suspicious of anyone coming. If we brought slaves to sell they’d never question it, but even if I were willing to sell people to a mine, we’re short of money right now. And I think we’re running out of time.”
We fell silent for a little while, listening to the sobs and retching of the slaves in the back of the wagon. My ribs felt bruised from the binding cloth, and my hip bones hurt from bumping against the seat. If I do this again, I hope it’s in a nice, cushy palanquin, with a real sorceress telling the djinn what to do.
“The Fair One likes your plan better than Tamar’s,” Jaran said. “I can’t think why.”
“Maybe she knows it will work.”
“Maybe.”
“Or maybe she thinks I deserve it. I’m the reason Prax is there. Did Tamar explain that part to you?”
“Huh.” Jaran let out a very dry chuckle. “One of Sophos’s girls was sold to a mine once. It was sort of my fault, though not entirely.”
“I saw her,” I said. “Well, maybe I saw her. She was in Sophos’s mine. I saw her when we passed through, on our way to Sophos’s house. Elubai tried to scare me by hinting that I’d be sold there, too, if I didn’t behave.”
“She was sort of like Aislan, but more vindictive. Aislan was a favorite, but she knew she was better off with us than against us, you know? The other girl . . . well, she was just trouble. She would spill all sorts of things to Sophos just to make the rest of us look bad—and to make herself look good. She didn’t realize that just because Sophos will use your loyalty, doesn’t mean that he’s loyal to you.” He used his free hand to rub the back of his neck. “I made it look as if she’d stolen something from Sophos. I didn’t intend for her to be sent to the mine, just for her to learn a lesson about what Sophos is capable of. But he decided to make an example of her. I never saw her again.”
“You mean you haven’t seen her again. She was still alive a year ago. Maybe you’ll see her yet.”
“I suppose. If I were a better person I’d try to free her.”
“You’re only indirectly responsible for where she is.”
“Well, you didn’t sell Prax to the mine, did you? Kyros did.”
“I returned him to Kyros. He was smart and capable. I think he’d have made it to the Alashi.”
“But he wasn’t so smart and capable that he wasn’t caught by you.”
“Even a capable person loses some of the time,” I said.
We lapsed into silence again.
“Tell me about killing Sophos,” I said eventually.
“What do you want to know?”
“All of it.”
“Boradai gave me a knife,” Jaran said. “And . . . Well. Sophos is a man who likes to see people in pain. Or he was such a man, rather. That’s why he summoned Tamar so often. It was always rape, with her, because she never got used to it.”
“What about you?”
“I was more used to it than Tamar. But . . .” He laughed a little, under his breath. “I’m the bastard of Sophos’s commanding officer. So he liked to use me because in some strange way it felt like he was . . . Well. There’s a drug that’s used to make people sluggish; they gave some to you before you were sent to Sophos.” I remembered that vividly—the bitter aftertaste of the wine, the clumsiness of my limbs. “Last night Boradai slipped some into the wine, after warning all the concubines not to drink any. So everyone was a little slow, though I don’t think they realized it. And she gave us all knives. Sophos took me back to his room early and barred the door. I’d had all sorts of ideas about stabbing him somewhere creative—no one so much as twitches at the sound of a scream from Sophos’s room. But when it came right down to it, I simply took my first and best opportunity. There’s a great big vein in your leg, near where it joins the rest of your body. I took out the knife and cut him there as deep as I could. He bled out in a matter of moments. Boradai wanted the head, to give to Tamar, so after he was dead I cut it off. Then I used his water to wash up, and waited for Boradai to come find me and tell me it was time.”
“Did you leave anyone there alive?”
“Sophos’s wife got wind of what was happening and took the children and hid somewhere. We didn’t waste any time trying to root them out—we were pretty certain they couldn’t get to the garrison to alert the soldier
s, but they’d have fought like rats if we’d cornered them. I’m sure they’ve come out by now.”
“There must have been guards who weren’t with concubines last night.”
“Yes, but Boradai knew precisely where they’d be. She summoned them one by one to different spots, and we took turns jumping them.” He shook his head. “I never would have thought it would be possible to suborn Boradai.”
“She said she didn’t know where Alisher was. Yet you knew.”
“The Fair One knew. I saw no reason to tell her.” Jaran shrugged. “What are you going to do now?”
“I guess Tamar and I will try to find homes for the eight . . . seven . . . who want to remain slaves.”
“Good luck with that.”
“I know of a good place to sell them, but I’ll need to find someone else to take them there.”
“I suppose.” Jaran stared at the horizon. In the east, the sky was beginning to turn a lighter violet. “Suppose I came back with you. Told Tamar I was going to help you with the next step, then slipped away with you some night and sold you to the mine.”
“Tamar would kill you.”
“She’d have to catch me, though. She might kill you once you were out.”
“Why are you offering?”
“Because the Fair One likes the idea. Then again, it’s possible she just doesn’t like you and wants to see you suffer. But since you’re volunteering . . .”
“All right, then,” I said. “Come back with me. You can tell Tamar that you’re going to stay with us to help us. She’ll be so happy to see you again, she won’t ask too many questions.”
The wagon stopped moving. I peered down over the side. “Let’s go west just a little,” I said. “Right, that flat spot there. Take us down, gently, and put it there.”
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