The Perfect Assassin

by K A Doore

  She didn’t wait for an answer. Menna unlocked the carriage and it swayed and dipped. Amastan tightened his grip as his leg protested. Then they were moving, sliding, and occasionally jerking down the cable, over the edge of the platform, and out into nothing.

  As if in a bad dream, Amastan descended for a second time to the sands. But instead of the momentary, exhilarating flight down the cable, he was stuck on a carriage with a killer. He wished idly that he could take up a chain again and leave both the carriage and Yufit behind.

  He should be grateful for the time. He needed to focus on the quieting ceremony. They only had one chance to get it right, but a hundred things could go wrong. And if everything did go right, what then? What would Yufit do after they quieted the jaan? What would he do?

  Amastan lifted his gaze from the sacks of tinder to find Yufit watching him. Caught, Yufit looked away. But not so fast that Amastan hadn’t seen the cold calculation there, the same thoughts circling behind his eyes. One of them wouldn’t return from the sands tonight.

  Ghadid was only a smear of the palest orange behind them, little more than an afterimage. The darkness consumed their carriage bit by bit, taking its edges first, then the sacks, then Yufit, then himself. Amastan’s world grew very close and dear, little more than his breath and the wind and the storm’s wet balm. Then,

  Flash.

  His world expanded infinitely. An endless stretch of sand. Clouds boiling overhead. Yufit just out of arm’s reach. All of that in an instant that lingered and faltered and faded and died and became afterimage. Until the next lightning strike.

  During one flash, Amastan noticed that the ground was closer. In the next moment, he was tossed forward as the carriage clanged hard against the pole. He grabbed for the rail but instead caught cloth, flesh. Then rail. He’d pinned Yufit to the railing. His heart raced and his ears burned hot as he pushed away.

  He hastily checked himself as he swayed with the carriage. No wounds. Yufit hadn’t taken the opportunity to stab him. As he finished checking, he felt silly. Yufit had promised to help. Despite his betrayal, Amastan still trusted Yufit’s word.

  Lightning flashed, revealing the ground only a few feet below. Trusting what he’d just seen, Amastan swung over the side. His stomach, however, didn’t have such trust, and twisted into a tight knot as he fell. Amastan miscalculated just how far away the sands were and stumbled when his feet hit. He straightened and steadied himself with one hand on the carriage’s edge.

  He grabbed blindly for the sacks on the carriage floor and began offloading them. He felt more than heard Yufit land beside him, the sand and the wind sucking up sound. Then a light flared, but unlike the lightning, this one lingered and strengthened. Amastan squinted against the glare, just as blind as before. He kept moving the sacks as his sight adjusted.

  Yufit had lit a lantern and set it on the edge of the carriage. Its single, small flame stood impossibly straight within the glass despite the gale growing around them and provided more than enough light to work by.

  Within minutes, they had all the sacks on the ground. Amastan thought he felt a drop of rain on his face and hoped otherwise. They were running out of time.

  Yufit looked from the sacks to Amastan. “Now what?”

  “We build the seal,” said Amastan. He retrieved the instructions from his pocket, unrolled the thin paper, and held it up so Yufit could see the diagram at its center. “I’ll mark the paces around the perimeter and lay the fuse and you can start placing the tinder behind me.”

  Yufit nodded and grabbed a sack, spilling one of the balls of tinder into his hand. It took some effort for Amastan to turn his back on Yufit and walk away, but he did. The darkness rushed at him, then steadied and even receded somewhat. Yufit had grabbed the lantern and was following.

  They worked quickly and efficiently. Amastan walked the outer circle of the seal, laying the long coil of fuse and digging his heel into the sand at every place Menna had marked on the diagram. Yufit came behind and set a tinder into each shallow hole. Thunder growled overhead and lightning turned the darkness into a cast of silver glass.

  The seal started out simple, but soon became intricate. The lines were easy, but the whorls and loops stopped Amastan several times. He backtracked once and another time stood for almost a whole minute, terrified that he’d messed up and would have to start again. He could almost hear time hissing past his ears. But then he counted his steps a fifth time and realized that he was right after all.

  The sacks dwindled and disappeared, becoming a small mound of empty leather skins that Yufit piled on the carriage. Finally, Yufit set the last tinder in the center of the seal, the vivid red paint Menna had used now little more than a flat black. It was the only tinder unconnected by the circles and swirls of fuse wire.

  Amastan held his breath, expecting … what? The jaan to suddenly arrive? The rain to start? To feel something, anything, that would rid him of the growing fear that this was a fool’s errand. Menna hadn’t had a chance to test this ceremony and the elders had never done anything like this before. How could they be so sure it would work? What if it didn’t?

  “What now?” asked Yufit, his voice barely audible over the wind.

  Amastan reached up and tightened a knot in his tagel. It had almost come free several times now, the wind snatching and dragging at it. Rain spat intermittently, thin as a mist. They had time yet, but not much.

  “We have to lure the jaan into the seal.”

  “How?”

  “By lighting the red one.” Amastan unhooked the striker from his belt. “When they’re all in the seal, we’ll light the outside and the rest of the seal should catch fire, trapping the jaan. It’s fairly simple. The difficulty is in the timing.”

  Amastan squeezed the striker. Sparks flashed and fell onto the red tinder, which caught and flared. Heat struck his face and pushed him back. Whether or not it was the right decision, it was done. They silently returned to the carriage and waited, the lantern perched among the empty bags, giving off just enough light.

  The wind howled, first one way, then the other. Rain spat and blustered, dark dots appearing and disappearing on the sand. The small fire in the center of the seal flickered and danced, a bright beacon that Amastan imagined could be seen for miles. Yet it looked so small and weak in the crushing darkness of the oncoming storm. Had Menna calculated correctly? Would it bring the jaan? And would the jaan come before the storm broke?

  Then the glass charms at his neck grew warm. The sound of the wind changed subtly. Now it carried whispers under its breath. Despite the heat and the wet, the back of his neck prickled. And despite having faced these creatures half a dozen times, despite having walked alone across the sands, despite having fought the Serpent herself, despite sharing space with a man who had all but outright vowed to kill him—

  Amastan was afraid.

  Thunder crashed, bringing with it the roar of wind and rain. The flicker of flame seemed even smaller than before. Then lightning lit the area silver-white and Amastan saw them.

  Three smears of red. Three jaan. And all of them coming straight for him.

  30

  Amastan’s charms sang, a thin piercing whistle that cut through the crash and boom of the storm. The wind had turned impossibly hot and dry. As the jaan flew at them, they darkened and thickened. No longer smears of red, they were almost corporeal. Smoke given form and strength.

  “Why’re they coming this way?” asked Yufit, his voice oddly high. “Why aren’t they going into the seal?”

  “I don’t know.” Without looking, Amastan reached for Yufit’s hand and grabbed tight. In that moment, it didn’t matter that Yufit had promised to kill him. “The blood should draw them in.”

  “Oh,” sighed Yufit.

  Amastan glanced at him, but only briefly, too afraid to take his eyes off the jaan. “What?”

  “How much blood did you use?”

  “A few drops. Why?”

  “And how much blood is in you?�
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  The realization hit like a fist. “Oh. But—the tinder must have more to it, to draw them. The marab wouldn’t have made such an oversight.”

  “Isn’t that why they wanted us both down here?”

  “It was just a precaution…” Amastan trailed off, the rest of his thought only confirming Yufit’s concern. Besides, while the marab wouldn’t have made such an oversight, Menna could have.

  “Too late now,” said Yufit, grim. “We’ve got to get them in the seal. Do you think…?”

  Amastan nodded. “They’ll follow us in.”

  Yufit ran for the seal, Amastan only paces behind. The jaan changed their course to meet them, two coming from one side, the third from behind. Something brushed Amastan’s back and he stumbled, but caught himself.

  You won’t make it, he thought. But no—that thought wasn’t his. His charms burned, hot as molten glass. He expected to feel them dripping down his chest at any moment. They hurt. Take them off.

  Amastan gritted his teeth. He stepped into the seal, headed for its center.

  This won’t work. Nothing can stop jaan. Let go. Give in.

  It was easier to ignore the intrusive thoughts now that he recognized them as the jaan. But the charms hurt, their heat exquisitely sharp and painful. He’d be surprised if he survived this without burns.

  Yufit had reached the center. Around him swirled a mass of red, no longer opaque. His steel-dark eyes watched Amastan, lit beneath by a dim glow. From the fire, but also from his own charms, which were bright enough that they could be seen through his wrap. He was protected, they were both protected, as long as they kept the charms on.

  He’ll kill you.

  Amastan halted suddenly, still a few feet from the center of the seal. He swallowed hard. Yufit’s eyes were cold. The flame’s flicker reflected in them and for a moment, Amastan was back on the mark’s rooftop, the acrid taste of oil in his mouth, a killer watching him with hatred and fury.

  Amastan shook his head. He was on the sands, not the roofs. Yufit had promised.

  And when you’re done? What then? Better to finish this now, when he least expects it.

  His fingers twitched toward his belt and the dagger sheathed there. Yufit’s gaze followed. Yufit already held a knife, gripped carefully between thumb and forefinger. How had Amastan not noticed before?

  Amastan stepped back, his heart hammering in his throat. But something struck him from behind, hard as a camel’s angry hoof. His surprised cry stuck in his throat and he stumbled forward one foot, two. Yufit’s eyes widened and he broadened his stance, brought up his knife. Amastan caught himself and dug in his feet. But he’d seen Yufit’s reaction. The jaan were right.

  You won’t make it back alive.

  Amastan gritted his teeth. Yufit had said as much himself. I won’t kill you while we’re working together. But after was another thing.

  Kill him now, before he can fulfill his promise. Kill him and avenge us.

  Amastan could see it: Yufit’s body at the center of the seal, the sand drinking up his blood. The perfect sacrifice to placate the horrors Yufit himself had created.

  Yufit shook his head. He stepped back, raised one hand to his forehead. That hand dropped to his neck, dug beneath the folds of his wrap. He yanked, hard, and pulled out a fistful of glowing charms. The red around him that Amastan hadn’t been able to see mere moments before drew back, repulsed. Yufit turned to Amastan, took a step forward, pushing the red back further.

  Something around Amastan shifted and he felt lighter. His senses cleared and he could smell the rain, hear the storm. He hadn’t even noticed that everything had grown muted. Panic spiked through him: they were almost out of time.

  Yufit held out his charm-laced hand to Amastan, who took it. The charms burned his skin as if he’d stuck his hand into a fire, but Amastan welcomed the pain. It cleared his thoughts—or rather, he realized, the jaan’s words.

  “Run,” said Yufit.

  They ran. The sand ate at their momentum, slowed them down, and the wind tugged them back. With their backs to the tiny flame, the lines of the seal became increasingly difficult to see. They couldn’t risk breaking or smudging the lines. If they did, they’d break the seal and it would no longer hold the jaan. Yufit slowed as the same thought occurred to him. But Amastan closed his eyes and tugged him onward.

  He didn’t need to see where the lines were, now. He remembered where he’d placed them and in his mind’s eye the seal spiraled around him. He led Yufit through the seal, turning here and rounding there. The wind brushed hot as fire across his exposed skin and, at one point, the air became thick as porridge. He pressed on regardless.

  Finally, Amastan placed his palm against Yufit’s chest, stopping him. “We’re at the edge. Take a big step and then run for the carriage.”

  His eyes still closed, he could only feel Yufit’s head duck in a nod. He let go of Yufit’s hand and stepped out of the seal, his toes brushing neither tinder nor fuse. Then he turned until he was facing the carriage, opened his eyes, and ran.

  The carriage’s metal glinted in the darkness, the fire’s dim light revealing only its contours. The wind must have snuffed the lantern out. The carriage was dead ahead, exactly where Amastan had expected it to be. He reached it a second before Yufit. He spun to take in the seal as Yufit gasped for breath behind him.

  The tiny flame of the lit tinder was barely visible through the seething red of the jaan. One swirled thick in the middle, tight as a dust twister. A second ran along the edge of the seal, occasionally slamming against something invisible, unable to get through. And the third … where was the third?

  Lightning flashed. Amastan could see the seal, spiraling away from them. The two jaan trapped within became red smears in the air, as if the wind had been stained with blood. To the north, the sands abruptly ended in a wall of darkness. Amastan felt a spray of rain. They were running out of time.

  Amastan’s only warning was the heat from his charms. They flared hot as fire. Amastan grabbed at them, batting them away from his skin as he spun around. The third jaani was feet away, eyes and mouth gaping holes that flew at him. Amastan yelled, which didn’t stop the jaani, but alerted Yufit.

  Then the jaani barreled into him, its sudden weight like a kick to the chest. Amastan hit the ground hard, the breath slammed out of him. He started to suck in air, but then all the air around him was jaani. He choked and sputtered. All he could see was red. His charms shrieked, burning his skin, through his skin. Despite the pain, he tried not to panic. As long as he had the charms, he should be fine—

  The first charm shattered, spilling hot glass down the front of his chest. Panic spiked through him, his chest tightening with need for breath. He still had four left. He just had to get up, get out—

  The second and third charms broke at the same time. That left two, both of which were giving off a high-pitched shriek like a kettle left too long. The jaani closed in tight, the dark holes of its eyes staring at him. Waiting.

  Amastan tried to scramble backward, but the jaani moved with him. Beyond the jaani, he could just make out Yufit. He stood still as stone, watching. Those eyes, cold as steel, dark as the storm, were as merciless as both.

  He’ll kill you.

  This time, the thought was his own. The jaani didn’t need to convince him. All Yufit needed to do was nothing at all. Watch and wait and let the jaani do what he couldn’t.

  The fourth charm gave up in a burst of hot glass. One left. Amastan couldn’t hold his breath forever. In a moment or less, he’d be at the mercy of the jaani. It would infiltrate his mind and break him, shattering his thoughts and memory, erasing who he was. He remembered Menna’s real horror in the crypt when Tamella had asked her what would happen if a jaani possessed someone. Those had been weaker jaan—what would happen with this one? Would he burn up like Megar had? Or worse?

  He’d been foolish to trust Yufit. Foolish to save him from Tamella. Foolish to care about him at all. Yufit had only ever known ha
tred and vengeance. Of course that was all Yufit could give him. To think that he had once sat with Yufit and watched stars come out, blissfully ignorant to the darkness eating him up inside. The darkness that would now abandon him to a jaani, that would rather watch him die than save him.

  Amastan had failed. Two jaan might be trapped, but a third would still be free. Tamella would damn the entire family to find Yufit and kill him. She might even go after Drum Chief Hennu. The family would be exiled, if not worse. Their history at an end.

  Maybe it’s time for the family to end.

  Amastan closed his eyes and counted down, trying to extend what little air he had left in his lungs. It burned, everything burned, but he clung desperately to life. This wasn’t over, not yet, not yet—

  A shadow passed across his eyes. Amastan opened them. Yufit was close—too close. Lightning caught the edge of Yufit’s knife. Amastan didn’t have a chance to defend himself. Pain sang up his arm and Amastan gasped, breathed deep dust and too-hot air.

  Blood ran down Yufit’s blade, dark as the sky. He turned it, considering. The jaani weighed Amastan down, pinned him to the spot. This was it—it was over.

  Yufit struck. But this time, his knife bit into his own flesh. Right above the crook of his arm. Blood ran down the blade’s tip, mingled with Amastan’s. Startled, Amastan could only watch as Yufit raised the knife over his head and ran toward the seal.

  Amastan’s last charm stopped shrieking and a pressure he hadn’t even noticed was lifted from his skin. At Yufit’s heels came a whirl of red.

  Yufit was luring the jaan into the seal.

  Amastan sucked in breath after breath as he struggled to his feet. His thigh, sore only moments before, sang in agony. He yelled, or tried to yell, but no sound came out. Only a heartbeat earlier, he’d silently damned Yufit, but now he watched with a different kind of distress as Yufit leapt over the outer edge of the seal, heading straight for its center.