The Warrior Queen (The Hundredth Queen #4)

“She was always jealous that I would be chieftess. I thought she’d be content once she secured the title.”

Maida seems to want her father’s and sister’s approval, but that may be oversimplifying years of discord. Tinley and I exit the palace and trudge across the snowy grounds. A shoveled path leads down an embankment to the rear of the palace. Rows of massive buildings lie in the gully. Behind the compound, pieces of turquoise ice shimmer beneath a dusting of snow.

I pause to absorb the view. The ice reminds me of my mother’s daggers. “What is that?”

“Blue Lake. We fish for alpine trout here during the summer. When the water freezes, the ice turns that brilliant hue.”

We side-foot down a slick trail to the compound. Long, low flat buildings, not too dissimilar in size to the elephant stables in Vanhi, compose the aviary. Between them, yaks bed down in pens and chew on alfalfa. Tinley slides open the door to the third building, and we go in.

Steam wafts through the high, open aviary. Lamplight shines from the rafters where a variety of smaller birds nest. The mahati falcons nestle below them in moss on the ground. I search for Chare, but she must be in another building.

Tinley directs me through the massive birds. Their huge eyes, the size of plates, follow our movements. A handful of stable hands add fresh moss to the nests and exchange the old water for fresh drink. In the center of the aviary, an old woman rests on a stool and cleans the talons of a mahati with a large brush. Behind her, a hot spring bubbles and steams. Two middle-aged women sit at a workbench off to the side.

“Matron Anoush,” Tinley says, “Father said you shouldn’t be working.”

“I’ll stop working when I die.” The elderly woman looks up from her task. “If it isn’t my wayward granddaughter. You missed your sister’s wedding.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Matron Anoush harrumphs. “Should have been you.”

I swivel on Tinley. The matron did not say Tinley should have been chieftess. Was she implying she should have wed Bedros?

Tinley waves a pointy nail at me. “Grandmother, this is Kalinda, former kindred of the Tarachand Empire.”

Matron Anoush tips her chin higher. “You married Rajah Tarek.” I nod. She judges me closer. “You killed him.”

Tinley stills. We have not discussed my part in Tarek’s demise. I cannot fathom how her grandmother knows, except that she is more perceptive. As I see no reason to lie, I nod again.

Anoush puckers her wrinkled lips and returns to grooming the bird, brushing the talons clean with great strokes.

I step into her line of sight. “Naresh said you can direct me to Ekur.”

“I cannot.”

Tinley’s gaze flickers to mine and back to her grandmother. “But you know how to get there?”

“Of a sort.” Anoush’s brushstrokes slow, her old, veiny hand shaking. She drops the brush and clutches her chest, as though she is pushing air inside her. Tinley rushes to her side, as do the two women at the workbench.

“Let your aides take you to lie down,” Tinley says.

“Do that, and I’ll never get up.” Anoush clutches at her granddaughter. “I have someone for the Burner Rani to meet.” The aides move back. Tinley supports her grandmother, and they shuffle to the other side of the hot springs. An ivory egg, bigger than my head, is snuggled in the moss. “The mother wouldn’t keep this one in her nest. Tried to roll it into the hot springs.”

“Mahatis are territorial,” Tinley explains. “Chare is in another aviary. This flock would tear her apart.”

“But this is their own egg,” I say.

“See the crack?” Anoush points to a tiny zigzag on the shell. “The mother noticed it was damaged and saw fit to do away with the egg. She reserves her care for her other hatchlings. They all broke out of their shells this morning. This one has been trying since last night. She has to get out on her own, or she’ll never have the strength to survive.”

I crouch down and listen to the bird’s pecking. “How do you know it’s female?”

“The female eggs are yellow, and the male eggs are green. We raise the males until they learn to fly, then set them free. They’re wilder than the females and more dangerous to tame. Every spring we release the females to mate. The domesticated ones return.”

The pecking drums onward. I inspect the egg for breakage but see none. “You’ll just leave her in there?”

Matron Anoush rubs the shell. “She has to want to live. We cannot decide that for her.” She squints at me. “I cannot direct you to Ekur, but I can tell you who can.”

A buzzing sensation travels across my skin.

I’m getting closer, Deven.

The matron’s gaze bores into mine. “This journey will lead you into great darkness. When you finish, you won’t be as you are now.”

“I understand.”

“You don’t yet, but you will.” Anoush flounders forward, shrinking into herself. Tinley helps her sit at the bank, and the matron slips her feet into the gurgling water. The aides come closer, yet give us distance. Anoush wheezes heavily. “Burner Rani, I have a tale for you. It is our most sacred story, passed on from matron to matron. I have not told even my granddaughter, but your journeys are entwined.”

Anoush pulls a necklace from under the collar of her robe. A gold medallion, wide and thick as a coin, bears a strange design. “This is the emblem of the gods, the quad symbol. I have been told it marks the entrance to Ekur.”

I study the emblem, a wave for the water-goddess, mountain peaks for the land-goddess, a flame for the fire-god, and a curl of wind for the sky-god. Together the crest resembles a shooting star.

“You see it, Burner Rani,” Anoush remarks. “Some truths are never forgotten.”

“Grandmother, what story does it tell?” Tinley says.

Anoush licks her dry lips. “Many generations ago, the gods lived among mortals. We served and obeyed their every command but were easily corrupted.” She wheezes between every word. “Kur sought to enslave mortals for his own. When Anu saw we would fall, he sent mahati falcons, enemy to serpents, to fend off the demons. The mahatis stayed and we became their stewards.”

Within the egg, the tapping increases. A beak punctures the shell. Anoush turns to watch the egg, and Tinley supports her. The hatchling pecks and pushes. A head pokes out, then a neck and wings. The bird wriggles from the tattered shell, squawking with her eyes closed and covered in white down.

“She’s so little,” I say, unable to imagine she will grow as big as the adults.

“Go on, Burner Rani,” Anoush says. “Pick her up.”

I scoop the mahati into my cupped hands. The hatchling beds down on my wooden palm. “One of her wings is shorter than the other.”

“Her cracked shell must have caused it.” Anoush clucks her tongue. “Shame.”

“Grandmother,” Tinley says, “what was the purpose of that story?”

Anoush runs a finger down the back of the fluffy falcon. “Mahatis ferry the souls of the deceased to the Beyond. To access the gods’ holy home, the falcons pass through Ekur.”

“What about the arches outside the city?” I ask.

“Our people built those for souls returning to our realm. A mahati can lead you to Ekur. Many have searched the mountains in vain. They went on foot when they should have gone by sky.” Anoush sinks into Tinley’s lap, winded.

Tinley strokes her white hair. “I’ll ask the aides to take you to lie down now.”

“Leave me be.” Anoush removes the medallion. “For you, Burner Rani.” Her whole arm quakes, so I accept the charm. “I have finished my purpose.”

“What purpose, Grandmother?”

Anoush’s rasps crackle into pants. “Moons ago, when I was very ill, I was visited by a god. He said the Burner Rani who dethroned the tyrant rajah would come, and after I directed her to Ekur, I could return to the Beyond. The god gave me the medallion to pass on to Kalinda, but he called her by another name.”

I set down the hatchling and kneel by Anoush. “What name?”

“He called you”—she wheezes—“Cala.”