DEVEN
I have become an expert at seeing in the dark. During the mortal realm’s daylight hours, the sky of the under realm lightens to elephant gray. At night, those same shadows deepen to stone and ice, and the narrow roadways splinter off like stairways into the sky. Some are dead ends, while others lead travelers right back to where they started.
One path, just one, leads me to Kali’s chamber.
Using a needle that I snapped off the thorn tree, I etch the ivory hilt of my janbiya dagger. The long handle of my weapon already reads: 1ST RIGHT. 6TH LEFT. RIGHT AT FORK.
I start the next instruction. 200 PACES, THEN LEFT.
The thicket I hide in crouches up to the Road of Bone. The bones, taller than any man, are laid out in a path, resembling the rib cage of a sea monster. I imagine the primeval creature was a casualty in the premortal war between the saltwater-goddess Tiamat and her son, Anu. This grisly roadway is the only thoroughfare in and out of the city in the distance. Other pathways form at night, but all lead back to the City of the Dead.
Nothing travels the road now. As far as I can see, the nocturnal wanderers that dwell here are dead. I am the only living thing. To keep it that way, I scratch the hilt harder.
Closer to the city, Kur’s serpentine tail lies outside his cave. His rumbling snores resound from the towering entry. I have not seen him leave his abode since he entrapped me in the under realm. I remember the war in the mountains, trying to save Kali, and winds sweeping us into the lake. After I failed to reach her in the waves, I recall little except shocking cold, then waking in a fallow field nearby. Kur had disappeared to his lair. He must have assumed I was dead or would be soon.
I pause carving the handle. 200 paces, then . . . was it right or left? To remind myself, I rub the inscription at the top.
PATH HOME
Going up to the mortal realm is akin to surfacing for air. This inscription on my dagger will ensure I do not forget the complicated pathway to Brac and my mother, to Natesa and Yatin, to Kali. My friends and family are my purpose for enduring, but the route to the mortal realm is becoming harder to remember. This place, this pervasive darkness, eats away at me one day at a time.
I have been stuck in the evernight without a reprieve for too long. For two nights in a row, I have tried to go home. The night before last, Kur summoned his top commanders from the city to his lair. I recognized Asag, Lilu, and Edimmu from our battle on the mountaintop and from their warped forms of bhuta powers. The paths that lead to the mortal realm are on the other end of the Road of Bone. To get there, I would have had to violate one of my survival rules: never sneak past Kur’s lair at night.
Kur’s minions finally returned to the city this morning. I do not trust this change in their behavior. They have never visited their ruler all at once. Though I have tried to puzzle out the purpose, I have been left with more answers than questions and a deeper urge to find a way out of here for good.
A branch creaks overhead. I glance up at a crow perching in my tree, my janbiya in my fist. The feathers on the crow’s wings molt, its bony legs cracked and bleeding.
From what I have gathered, when spirits of animals or souls enter the under realm, they are less distinct in form. Within hours of dwelling in the shadows, they harden to physical beings once more. They are more corpse than flesh, as if they were put back into their rotting bodies.
The brethren teach that death is not the end. This is not what they meant.
I shrink toward the ground, my senses twitchy. The crow takes no interest in me, but fear is useful. Fear means I am still myself. When I am numb to the terrors of this place, the Void will own me.
11
KALINDA
My grumbling stomach draws me to the great hall for breakfast. Servants cook pots of spiced rice over the hearth fire. Maida sits at the long table alone, knitting.
“May I join you?” I ask.
She scans the empty table. “I don’t know if there’s room.” Her lips turn upward.
Unexpected. She has a sense of humor.
I plunk down across from her. A server delivers me a bowl of steaming rice pudding that smells of rose water and cardamom. My first bite sends delicious warmth into my belly.
“What are you knitting?” I ask.
Maida holds up a partially completed infant’s cap. “My grandmother says no woman fulfills her purpose without preparation.”
She must really want a child. I have never, not once, felt such an inclination, though I expect someday that may change. Deven would be a good father.
The sentiment comes at me without forethought, and I immediately suffer retribution.
Gods, I miss him.
As predicted, Deven did not visit me last night. My estimation that he can only find his way to my bedchamber in the Turquoise Palace may be accurate.
I tap my toe while I eat and glance at the door often, hoping for Tinley. Maida’s knitting needles click together. Upon another glance, I notice they are ice picks.
“Did you sleep well in my sister’s room?” she asks.
“That was Tinley’s bedchamber?”
“You didn’t displace her. She sleeps in the aviary.” Maida eyes me again. “You and my sister are friends. Tinley rarely makes friends.”
“You’re friends, aren’t you?”
“We’re sisters. That’s different.”
Why can they not be both? Maida and Tinley share a sense of irritability, so I keep quiet. I do not want to get caught between their tempers.
Deep laughter carries through the hall. Chief Naresh and Tinley saunter in, joking with each other, and join us at the table. Tinley’s tangled hair is windswept and her eyes aglow.
“Where have you been?” Maida asks. “I’ve been entertaining our guest alone.”
I peer sidelong at her. I did not realize my company was such a burden.
“We flew to the mountains to watch the sunrise.” Tinley bumps her shoulder into Naresh. “Father thought his falcon could outrun Chare.”
“Your mahati is swift for a runt.” He eats from a bowl that a servant puts before him.
Maida knits faster, her ice pick needles clicking furiously. “I’d like to go flying with you, Father.”
“Hmm?” He glances from Tinley to her for clarification. “Oh, Maida. We can go flying anytime.” Maida balls up the knit cap and drops it into her lap. “Were you warm last night, Kalinda?”
“Very,” I reply. Siva kept me toasty. After I woke, I returned her to the hearth.
“Are you finished, Kalinda?” Tinley asks. “The matron is waiting.”
Maida turns interested. “You’re visiting Grandmother? May I join you?”
“Not this time, little sister.” Tinley rises to go.
Maida fists her knitting needles. “Don’t call me little. I’m married now.”
“How could I forget?” Tinley retorts. “You remind me every five minutes.”
“Now, now,” drawls Chief Naresh. “Maida, let your sister go without you. You’ve had plenty of time alone with your grandmother. Let Tinley have hers.”
Sadness creeps into his tone and drags down his expression. The matron must be more unwell than he disclosed.
Maida pushes to her feet. “You’re right, Father. I’ll visit Grandmother this afternoon, as I’ve done every day since she fell ill. I didn’t abandon my family and duties.” She storms off, the ball of yarn lagging after her.
“Make peace with her,” Naresh quickly tells his eldest daughter.
“Spend more time with her,” Tinley shoots back, and Naresh looks sheepish. Tinley tugs my sleeve to go.
Out in the corridor, Tinley stalks ahead. I skip to catch up. “Do you and your sister compete at everything?”