That room…the keys he had seen hanging from a hook in Dedelion’s room. He could still remember how Dedelion had pushed against the wall in that room, and it had easily opened and shelved inside had been dozens of scrolls filled with secrets of magic. If he could master even one of those scrolls, he could make a name for himself. He wouldn’t need a tzati like Imotah or a sorcerer like Dedelion if he knew how to use magic to see the future the way Dedelion did.
If he could just get into that room, he could take as many scrolls as he could carry and escape this place. The only thing that stood in his way was a single locked door. He knew where the key to the room was; he just had to walk in and take it. It would be tricky to retrieve but not impossible. He’d have to sneak in there while Dedelion was sleeping. There was no other option.
Kareth could barely sleep since that night in the room. He was always shocked awake by one of his dreams. Dreams of being unable to move, calling out for help and no one hearing. Dreams of being alone in the dark but knowing something was there, getting closer and closer. Dreams of a knife slowly pushing its way into him. Dreams of blood dripping onto cold stone. Some nights, he would lie awake, listening to the sounds of the others breathing. He knew the others realized he had a hard time sleeping, because sometimes he would start pacing back and forth, and once in a while someone would wake up and mutter angrily to him.
He decided if he wanted to be smart about his escape, he couldn’t just take off one night, so he thought he could use his insomnia to create pretence. The day after he realized how easy it would be to take the scrolls, he announced during their evening meal that he was going to go for a walk. Sebkay and Imotey predictably ignored him, but Natef looked up with curiosity.
“A walk?”
“To help me sleep,” Kareth had smiled, and his face instantly felt stretched and awkward, like trying to throw a spear after not having touched one for several turns of the moon.
So for the next few evenings after dinner, he went for a walk. He strode around the hall, near his room or sometimes out to the garden. He always made sure he didn’t return until the others were fast asleep in their beds. The first few nights Natef asked what he had been up to, but eventually, it became normal and the other apprentices stopped asking him about it. That’s when Kareth felt he was safe.
He’d been planning the night for so long that when it finally arrived he couldn’t believe how terrible he felt. At dinner, he picked at his bread, and though he tried to eat a few pieces, he chewed them until they were mush and found he could barely swallow. Natef noticed and with a rather eager attitude worked up the courage to ask Kareth for his beer and whatever he wasn’t eating. Kareth passed it over, feeling as though he might be sick at any moment.
He left the table even earlier than usual for his walk, but his feet felt stiff, and his throat was so dry he was having trouble breathing. He moved with slow stilted steps, and the knowledge that he would have to wait until well into the night to even get close to Dedelion’s room made every step even more painful.
Most of the servants were turning in for the night, snuffing out many of the torches left in the wall, cleaning up and dusting a few last things. Kareth went out to the garden, hoping to catch his breath. The night seemed warmer than usual, and he wondered if the guard wouldn’t find it strange to see someone going out in a cloak. But he convinced himself that it wasn’t really that warm; he just felt hot because he was so nervous.
He waited out in the garden, staring up at the high windows of the one-storey building, watching as one by one the lamps were snuffed out and everything became dark and quiet. He waited even after that, staring up at the stars. It was the new moon, the beginning of a turn, and he could see every star sparkling in the black firmament. There was the constellation of Pekari rising and the wandering star Zera in the middle. It reminded him of his mother, who had taught him all the names of the constellations and had quizzed him about them many times.
“The best way to understand the future is to understand the sky,” she would tell him with unfaltering conviction. But he had no idea what the stars were telling him now.
When the night was halfway through, he finally found the courage to creep back in. He had hidden his skins in the garden the night before and grabbed the bundle then, gathering it up in his sweaty hands as he re-entered. Inside were all the simple jewellery and coins his people had given him. If Yunet wasn’t able to help him, he was sure he’d be able to live off what he carried long enough to reach the Paref.
The hall was almost completely dark. Only a single torch remained lit at the far end of the hall, and he crept towards it, imagining he was nothing more than a mouse wandering the halls after all had fallen asleep. He had a sudden image of himself walking through these halls in the near dark, bloody and wincing in pain, feeling his way along the wall, barely able to stand. The memory was so sudden and so strong he had to stop. He could see Dedelion’s door painfully close. If Dedelion caught him, what would happen to him? Would it be back to that room? Or something worse?
But what was worse than staying here, unable to satisfy the gods’ demands?
Kareth forced himself forward. His body was shaking, but he steadied himself enough to press his hands against the heavy wood door and push softly. The door didn’t move, and for a panicked moment he thought it was locked, but then he pushed a little harder and it began to creak open.
He stopped at the sound, terrified he would wake Dedelion. He waited then pushed again. Again it creaked as the gap widened a little more, and again he stopped. His heart pounded on the inside of his chest so hard, he wondered if it wasn’t louder than the door. He gave a final push, opening the door just wide enough for him to squeeze through the crack.
His head peeked in first, making sure no one had woken up. At first, Kareth could see nothing in the darkness and was worried Dedelion might not even be there that night, but away visiting some important house and performing his magic. But no, then Sebkay would have been called away. He must be here, and eventually his eyes adjusted, and he could make out Dedelion’s form curled up on the bed.
He moved into the room, a stream of light following him inside. He was shaking so badly he feared he would trip and fall into one of the many shelves or tables cluttered around the room. His knee hit the corner of one and his eyes watered from the pain. He steadied himself then locked his eyes on the key ring hanging from the hook. He didn’t dare move any closer but instead reached out for it, his eyes flitting back and forth between the man and the object.
The moment he felt the cool metal on his skin, he clutched the keys hard and pulled them to his chest, wrapping his skins around them to keep them from clattering against each other as he quickly turned and made his way back to the door. He didn’t stop to close the door, not wanting to risk the sound, and instead ran down the hall, sweat falling from his brow into his eyes as he made his way directly to the other room.
Standing outside the door he remembered the fear he’d felt before, but now he couldn’t stop smiling. He fumbled with the keys, not knowing which one unlocked the door, so trying every single one until finally, one turned in the lock and there was a click. Kareth put his hands on the door in excitement.
“What are you doing?”
The voice was quiet, sleepy, and small, but it felt like a knife pushing into his ears. Kareth turned slowly and saw Natef standing in the hall, his hand rubbing the sleep out of one eye.
“I—” Kareth croaked.
Kareth looked at Natef’s pudgy arms and face, wondering if the boy wouldn’t like to leave this place just as much as he did. He thought of all the times Sebkay and Imotey had ganged up on him, teasing him relentlessly. Natef probably didn’t have much love for him, since he had never once tried to defend him. He doubted giving him the leftovers of his dinner that evening had cemented their friendship.
“I’m leaving,” Kareth whispered, his voice an agonizing plea. “I can’t stay here. You know I can’t stay. I have to l
eave.”
Natef narrowed his eyes, looking confused, like he didn’t understand. “Leave here?”
“Please…Just go sleep. You never saw me. Wake up tomorrow and be confused. Soon, they’ll forget I was here, but you’ll still be an apprentice and a sorcerer one day. But I…I have to leave.”
“I…I never saw you?” Natef sounded so sleepy Kareth wondered if maybe the boy wasn’t just walking in his sleep.
“No,” Kareth shook his head insistently.
“I never saw you…” Natef nodded absent-mindedly and turned to leave.
Kareth watched him go but instead of feeling relief, all the fear rushed back towards him. He didn’t waste another moment. He ran into the unlocked room and made his way towards the wall, pushing against random places, until he felt the wall finally fall away and he reached in. He could see nothing but could feel the scrolls on the shelves, and began shovelling them into his skins. He grabbed half a dozen or so and then dropped the keys and ran.
Next, he was in the hall and then the kitchen. The fires hadn’t been lit yet for the bakers, so he told himself there was still plenty of time. He had planned to wait in the kitchen, biding his time until it was more realistic for a servant to be heading out, but the meeting with Natef had rattled him. He grabbed one of the cloaks and wrapped it around his shivering frame.
He forced himself to stop before going to the hall where the door was located. He needed to steady his breathing. He needed to look as though someone had just woken him up to go on an errand. He gripped his skins close to his chest and took deep breaths until he felt slightly calmer, then left the kitchen.
There was still a lit torch in the hall by the door, enshrouding the guard in light. He was obviously asleep—his head slumped onto his chest, his breathing deep and heavy. Kareth thought for a moment that he had been worrying for nothing, but as he approached the guard stirred suddenly, lifting his head and staring at Kareth with bleary eyes.
Kareth struggled to keep moving forward, and even gave the guard a tired-looking smile and a shrug that hopefully said he’d rather be sleeping, but duty had forced him awake. The guard looked suspicious for a moment, then leaned back and closed his eyes, clearly not caring.
And then he was there, standing next to the keys, his hand reaching up to them.
“Stop him!” The voice called out, still quiet, still sleepy, but this time definitely not small. Natef.
Kareth could feel the cold metal of the key against his fingers.
“He’s stealing! Don’t let him leave!”
The guard looked confused but was getting to his feet, his hand reaching for the spear leaning against the wall. The guard was between him and the door, and Kareth knew he wouldn’t be able to push past him. Even if he were faster and nimbler, the moment it would take for him to unlock the door would be more than enough for the guard to grab him and stop him. Kareth didn’t even try to go for the door. He ran towards Natef.
He was aware of his belongings falling from his hands, of the scrolls scattering at his feet. He could see the look of surprise on Natef’s stupid, fat face. He felt the guard reaching out for him, grabbing the cloak and ripping it from his shoulders. But all he could think of, the only thought that invaded his mind was that it was over. He was never going to leave this place. He was never going to stand before the Paref. He would never fulfil the destiny his mother had told him about, the destiny the Rhagepe had handed him from the gods. He would stay behind these walls, as Dedelion cut away pieces of him, sucking him dry. It was over—and it was Natef’s fault.
Their bodies collided and Natef fell hard underneath him. He heard the grunt of pain as the wind was knocked out of Natef and felt a perverse joy run through him when Natef screamed in pain as Kareth’s fist hit his jaw. Kareth could see the faces of all the men who’d stood in his way. The soldiers at the border. The guard who’d dragged him away from Harami. Piya, the stable master. Imotah. Dedelion. Sebkay and Imotey. But where all those men were bigger and stronger than him, here was the one person he could take his frustrations out on.
He screamed himself as he punched the now dazed Natef again, blood splattered from his quivering mouth. He punched him one more time, feeling a genuine smile creep onto his face, and then the guard had him and was pulling him off, slamming him against the wall. Kareth flailed and kicked and scratched, but it was over.
It was all over.
NESATE
THE GODS ARE ALWAYS ANGRY
Tersh had expected adversity. She had expected hatred. She had expected fear. She had not expected blank stares.
“I go…city?” Tersh spoke slowly and gave exaggerated gestures. She tried to use the most basic Matawega words she knew, but the guards blocking the road to Nesate just stared at her with bored expressions. They simply could not speak the tongue of Mahat, and they would not move aside to let her pass.
Not for the first time, Tersh felt a rising sense of anger and frustration towards Tuthalya for leaving her the way he had. If Tuthalya were with her, the former soldier would easily speak to the guards and explain Tersh’s honest intentions to them.
The walls of Nesate were so tall and imposing that she could not see the buildings hidden behind them. Before she’d reached Nesate Valley, she’d wondered if maybe the city would be difficult to find, but the walls were impossible to miss. From the very first moment you entered the valley, the walls were there to strike fear in your heart—so tall and dark that even though it was another day’s walk to the city, she could clearly make them out.
“I Whisperer. Go-man,” Tersh sighed deeply. “Whisperer of the Dead. Rattlecloak,” and for added emphasis she shook her cloak and the bones did indeed rattle. She had taken the mountain lion skull off her head when she had walked past the farmlands and goatherds in the valley after seeing the children of the farmers running to their parents in terror. She didn’t want them to think she was one of those wild mountain people.
When the guards had come out to meet her, the walls of Nesate painfully close behind them, they had looked worried—and even a little frightened—at first, but after listening to her speak for a few moments, their looks turned to those of confusion. Three had come out, but they had sent the third man back. Although they didn’t try to speak to Tersh or attack her, they wouldn’t let her pass and did not reply.
One of the guards looked to the other and said something that made the other smile, but neither moved aside and neither looked like they would any time soon. They were no different from the soldiers she’d seen in Hattute, beards thin and long, covering only their chins and around their mouths. They wore helmets hiding most of their faces, and thick wool cloaks lay over their leather armour. The only difference was their attitude towards a Whisperer. She had not been loved in Hattute, but there had been a sort of reverence towards her. She had gotten used to thinking the Matawega would always part to let her pass and walk unhindered to the Queen of the Mountain.
Tuthalya had left her on her own four days before. They had reached Kuwais Salli, the valley of Copper Tower, whose namesake had failed to live up to Tersh’s expectations. Where she thought she’d see a gleaming tower made entirely of copper, instead she had found a low stone tower surrounded by many thatchroofed huts and a thick wall. The walls were heavily fortified, guards walking the balustrades, weary eyes vigilantly looking at the north-west passage that led to Nesate Valley, the home of the Five Sisters, and Tersh’s final destination.
“Why isn’t it copper?” Tersh had asked in disappointment when they first entered the valley and saw the fortification in the distance.
Tuthalya, of course, chuckled softly. “A copper tower? That would be an ugly thing. Copper turns sickly grey when you leave it outside, you know.”
Tersh frowned. She had not known that. “But why the name?”
“This valley has the largest copper mine in Matawe. It was a real victory when the kings managed to seize it. Without it, the queens can’t make weapons, and without weapons, they ca
n only hide behind their walls, waiting for cold defeat.”
They descended into the quiet valley, finding a narrow dirt path, quiet and abandoned. The ram brayed, and Tuthalya patted its flank. “Settle down, you’ll have all the grass you want soon.”
“I’m looking forward to a nice, warm meal. Do you think they’ll have stew?”
“Ah, at the fort you mean?”
“Well…” Tersh looked around the grassy but otherwise barren valley. “Where else would I mean? I don’t see a village here.”
“Oh, you won’t find a village here, not so close to Nesate. There’s only the fort and the mine. But, ah…” he smiled awkwardly. “You can’t go to the fort.”
Tersh sighed, the hope of a warm room to spend the night in melting away. “We have to go around?”
Tuthalya nodded. “Yes, you do.”
“I do?” Tersh stopped walking. “What do you mean?”
Tuthalya turned around, his face finally becoming serious. “We can’t continue on together.”
“You’re not coming to Nesate with me?” Tersh wondered what the point of all those talks of saving Matawe had been for if Tuthalya had no intention of continuing on and helping her. “You’ll just go back to your village, back to your wife and warm bed and forget everything you said?”
“Calm down, Tersh,” Tuthalya laughed. “I’m going to Nesate, but we can’t go together. Think for a moment. If you arrived with an ex-soldier who served in Hatturigus’ army, they’d be instantly suspicious of you.”
“Then don’t tell them you were a soldier, obviously.”
“All men are soldiers. I told you this. And anyway, it’s better if they know I am a soldier; it let’s them think they can use me to their advantage.”
Pekari -The Azure Fish Page 20