“Jase said he might be a little late,” Aram answered. “He and the others were called away with business.”
“And my friends?” I asked. “Jase said they were guests here too. Will they be coming?”
“I haven’t seen anyone else here,” Nash said.
“Me either,” Lydia chimed in.
A cluster of quick tight glances were exchanged between the older Ballengers.
“I believe you’re mistaken,” Vairlyn answered. “They’re being accommodated somewhere else. Not here.”
“But we’ll let Jase know that you asked,” Samuel said. “Maybe he can bring them over tomorrow.”
Sure he can.
They were a finely tuned machine, working together and finishing one another’s thoughts. The only wrenches in the works were Lydia and Nash. I was feeling more certain that Wren and Synové were free and safe. Suddenly my appetite doubled.
When everyone was served, Vairlyn said a prayer to the gods, not unlike the acknowledgment of sacrifice that was given at Sanctum Hall meals. But here no platters of bones were passed in remembrance.
“Meunter ijotande,” I said quietly to myself as the others echoed Vairlyn’s final thanks.
“What was that?” Priya asked, missing nothing I said or did.
“Just part of a Vendan prayer of thanks.”
“What does it mean?” Aram asked.
“Never forgotten. It refers to the sacrifice that brought the meal to the table.”
Samuel raised a suspicious brow. “Sacrifice?”
“The labor. The animal. All gifts, including food, come with a cost to someone or something.”
“You speak Vendan?” Nash asked. “Will you teach me?”
I looked at Vairlyn. She nodded approval.
“Le’en chokabrez. Kez lo mati,” I said slowly, waiting for him to repeat.
He struggled to repeat the words that were foreign to his tongue but smiled with accomplishment when he finished. “What did I say?”
“I’m hungry. Let’s eat.”
“I’m all for that,” Uncle Cazwin said and began eating.
Everyone dug in, and Lydia and Nash practiced the words over and over as they giggled and slurped mouthfuls.
“You are clever,” Vairlyn said abruptly.
I lowered my spoon and eyed her, uncertain if it was a compliment or an accusation.
“Jase told me,” she added. “He said you were resourceful in the wilderness.”
“As was he,” I answered. “We worked together and made the best of it.”
Jalaine smiled. “I’m sure you did.”
I couldn’t see it, but I was certain Priya kicked Jalaine beneath the table because Jalaine jumped in her seat, then shot Priya an angry scowl.
A rumble of heavy footsteps echoed just outside the dining room, and the doors flew open. Mason walked in, looked around, his eyes landing on me first, then Vairlyn. “Sorry,” he told her. “We won’t make dinner tonight.”
She asked for no further explanation, as if she had already expected this. “We’ll keep your plates in the warmer.”
Mason turned back toward me. “Jase would like to see you.”
I spied two tiny crimson dots on his sleeve. Blood. A spray of blood to be precise.
“Sounds ominous,” I said, expecting him to laugh it off. He didn’t.
“Ready?” he asked.
I pushed my chair back, my mind spinning with possibilities. Everyone watched me leave like I was on my way to an execution.
“How do you say good-bye in Vendan?” Lydia called.
“Vatrésta,” I answered, “if it’s a final good-bye.”
“Is this a final good-bye?”
I didn’t know, and Mason shuffled me out before I could answer.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
KAZI
I have something for you to steal, Kazimyrah. I would do it myself, but as you can see, I’m unable to travel. And the truth is, regardless of my passion for this quest, you are the preeminent thief in Venda. But the prize I want is not a square of cheese or a soup bone. It is loud and large. What is the largest thing you’ve ever stolen?
I had sensed that she already knew—it was spoken of in whispers on the streets. Did Ten really steal that? No, impossible. Why would she? But anonymity was essential in what I did, if I wanted to keep doing it. The queen didn’t question the if or the what—she wanted to hear the how. Could I do it again? I thought back to my large, loud, and very dangerous acquisition. It had taken me more patience than I had thought I possessed, more than a month of many skipped meals, saving and stashing, and favors procured by stealing numerous other much smaller things. There was no doubt I had seen it as a challenge. But there was more to it than just that.
The tiger had drawn a large crowd when the Previzi driver rolled into the jehendra. No one had seen one before or even knew what it was, but it was obvious it had to be one of the magical creatures of legend, and when it suddenly lunged and roared, the thunderous sound vibrated through my teeth. I watched three men fall back, wetting themselves. I also saw the thick iron collar and chain that kept the tiger from leaping from the back of the dray, and on closer inspection, I noticed that its glorious striped fur hung like a loose coat over its ribs. The Previzi driver was, amazingly, unafraid of the beast. He shouted a command, then laughed and scratched the animal behind its ear when it lay down.
The butcher had stepped forward, lusting for an animal that was good for soup bones at most. I watched him as he pulled on his beard, the skin puckered to attention around his eyes, his lips glistening as he licked them over and over again. And then he asked the Previzi driver if he could make the beast bellow again. The roar. The fear it induced, the enormous white fangs. That was what the butcher lusted for, and it came as no surprise. And that was when I knew I would steal the tiger.
Why Kazi? Why steal something you had no use for?
There was only one reason I could share with her.
I wanted to let it go. I knew eventually the animal would die, and the butcher would watch it happen, slowly, for it would have taken all of the butcher’s precious meats displayed in his shop to properly feed such a beast and he would never sacrifice his livelihood for an animal, nor would he care day by day as he watched the tiger’s ribs protrude, its cheeks hollow, and its flesh sag. He already saw that every day among his human patrons, and their suffering didn’t sway him. Besides, he would profit from the tiger’s death too, selling its tough meat as magical, pulling its enormous teeth from its jaws for trade with other merchants, selling patches of its striped hide to the chievdars, and its clawed paws to governors who loved exotic trophies from the land beyond the Great River. When the last roar of the tiger was gone, death would be a bonus, bringing more rewards to the butcher. He paid a hefty sum to the Previzi driver but knew he would triple his investment in a few short months, and in the meantime he would derive his ultimate pleasure from the fear he would sow, and he’d have yet another way to chase the undesirables from his stall.
I had already experienced the fear he liked to spread four years earlier. My mother had been gone for only a handful of days. I was lost without her, and my eyes itched with hunger. I had stumbled upon his shop, his skinned lambs hanging from hooks, a flurry of flies buzzing and tasting their slick pink flesh, his caged doves pecking at one another’s bald heads, his mysterious pearlescent meats showing the rainbows of age, and I had stopped to stare, wondering how I might make such treasures mine, when I felt a sharp snap across my face. I hadn’t even had time to reach up to touch my bleeding cheek, when it slashed across my calves. And then I saw him laughing, watching my confusion. He lifted his willow switch and snapped it again, the lithe green branches cutting across my brow. I ran, but he yelled after me, warning me to stay away. Street rats with no money were less welcome than the flies that swarmed his meats.