Maia heard the voice through the trees. The soldiers clustered together, each man stripped to the waist, checking one another for ticks. She sat like stone, her arms clamped around her knees, while the kishion searched the skin on her back for more. The lacings of her gown were undone in the back, exposing the skin, but she hugged herself to keep the sleeves on and tugged the fabric up over her shoulder whenever it slipped. She had already found two that morning—one on the inside of her thigh and the other on her arm, just below her elbow. Though it embarrassed her, she had asked the kishion to assist her with the ones she could not get to herself.
Festering scabs covered all the soldiers. There were so many ticks in the woods that it took an hour just to prick them loose with a hot needle each morning. They were three days into the cursed woods of the land south of the Spike of Dahomey. Three waymarkers had been discovered so far, each one near the end of the day. Their water reserves were low, and while there were streams throughout the lands, slashing through the broken trees and brambles, the water tasted spoiled.
“Hold still, there are two more,” the kishion said, pinching the skin on her lower back. “Let me tease them out. If the needle is still warm enough.”
Maia ducked her head and brushed the hair away from her neck. She could feel the kishion’s breath on her back and felt her stomach clench with humiliation. He clucked his tongue and swore and she felt a stab of pain at her back.
“Almost done,” he muttered. “There is one. Now for the brother. There we are. Hold still.”
Pain stung her again, making her eyes water. She bit her lip. He pinched the spot to make it bleed a little.
“How much farther must we wander in these cursed woods?” Captain Rawlt said in a bellowing voice, storming over to where they sat. Maia felt even more mortified as she pressed the gown to keep it from falling or revealing any more of her skin. The kishion snorted and plucked the last tick away. He helped tug the dress up and began tightening the lacings.
Rawlt had a fresh scab on his cheek. “We have lingered here for three days, my lady. If it takes much longer to find it, we won’t have time to cross back and reach the Spike. It takes a ship twelve to fourteen days to maneuver the winds in full circle. If we do not find the ruins in three days, we must turn back.”
“A moment so I can finish dressing, Captain!” she said angrily.
“Oh, for the Blood, woman! I have seen enough—”
“You will not see the king’s daughter! Now turn around, please!”
Rawlt swore in frustration, but he obeyed her and turned on his heel. Maia felt vindicated and hurriedly adjusted the bodice to hide the kystrel and its stain. The kishion finished tightening the lacings and helped her to her feet—so strange that a killer showed more respect than a captain—and then crushed something under his boot.
“I was saying, Lady Maia, that we are fast running out of time,” Rawlt said over his shoulder. “The ship will not linger for very long. If we do not meet it on time, it may well leave us behind. These are not your father’s lands, my lady. I can quip well enough with the Naestors, but someone speaking Dahomeyjan would know us by our speech.”
“I know how many days we have lost, Captain, and I can speak Dahomeyjan. But I do not know how many more waymarkers are there to lead the way. If they were ever numbered, it has worn off over hundreds of years. If I—”
Captain Rawlt drew his sword and swung it down, cutting a snake in half. “By the Blood, this land will be the death of us.” His arm trembled as he stared at the writhing serpent near his boot. It had slithered up so quickly that Maia had not seen it until after.
He swung around, facing her again, his eyes livid. “Two more days. I will give you two more days. Then we leave, with or without you and your stinking kishion.”
Maia felt blistering outrage. “When my father hears of this—”
His face contorted with anger. “The Dochte Mandar take your father! He should never have expelled them from the realm and started this madness. Two days, Lady Maia. That is all I will promise you.”
Maia clenched her hands. Could she force him to obey with the kystrel? Should she? Anger churned alive inside her. Anger toward her father, for sending her here with such pitiful escorts, on an errand that might kill her. After three days of spiders, snakes, ticks, and heat, she understood why no one had settled the land below the Spike. It was full of creatures hunting for prey. She needed the soldiers to offer some protection along the way. What other terrors awaited them, she could only guess.
You will all die in this place. This is the place where death was born.
Maia shuddered at the Medium’s whisper. She glanced at the scar-faced kishion and gave him a nod of thanks. He seemed amused by it and walked away without saying anything.
*
The fifth waymarker was in a grove full of bones.
“By Idumea’s hand,” Hsop whispered, his eyes widening. Maia watched him as he knelt near the encrusted shell of a breastplate that was caved in beneath the pressure of a spearhead. The tarnished helmet was askew, and he struggled to open its rusted hinges. The skull was brittle and became dust at his touch.