“May I? My skin has been so dry.”
I peer through the crack in the doorway. Gemi bathes in a tub set in the middle of the chamber. Her body is concealed by the washbasin, only the back of her head visible. Her hair hangs outside the steaming bath, a rich curtain of brown.
My tongue goes papery. I am torn between getting closer to see her better and slinking away.
Natesa brings a pitcher to the side of the tub and begins to wet Gemi’s hair for washing. On the next pour, the flow exposes my viraji’s bare shoulder. Her skin truly glows when damp, a radiance I would like to see more of.
Lords, I am a scamp.
I hurry on to Kalinda’s chamber. Asha, her servant and friend, left an oil lamp burning. She also set out a food tray and a full water pitcher. I sit on the bed and rub my eyes. An image of Gemi’s hair draping her glistening skin fills my mind. I should have presumed she was homesick. After I left the Brotherhood temple, I longed for the familiarity of those stone walls.
A memory of my mother starts to come, foggy pieces of a hurt so strong I shut it down before it drags me into the past.
Resting against stacks of pillows, I hold the childhood pains at bay. Deven needs me alert. I clear my thoughts, centering myself upon my priorities, and monitor the night for his arrival.
15
DEVEN
The moment nightfall hits I slide out of the thicket and set into a run. In minutes, the Road of Bone will be full of wanderers. I have to cross to the other end by the sky pathways before the inhabitants of the Void wake.
Kur’s tail no longer blocks the road outside his lair. As an officer, I would order my men to retreat and remain hidden, but I can almost smell Kali’s jasmine-scented hair and taste the food her servant has left out for me. On the other side of this pitlike doorway is nourishment. On the other side is my love.
I sprint across the entry, alert for a golden-eyed stare. Nothing stirs within the lair. Kur could be asleep or still nursing the injuries Kalinda gave him. I waste no more strength pondering his disinterest in me. Fortune has swung in my favor. I am overdue for a little luck.
My footfalls thunder down the Road of Bone. Unlike the hard skeletons beneath my feet, my bones feel brittle. No man this unfit could serve in the imperial army. I tire sooner than the day before and the day before that. The long stretches of fasting are emptying me. I hardly feel hunger or dehydration anymore.
At the end of the roadway, a haunting melody carries from the City of the Dead. I stumble along faster. I can see the pathways zigzagging the sky like crooked spiderwebs.
The first three directions inscribed on the ivory hilt of my janbiya are memorized.
1st right. 6th left. Right at fork.
Ahead is my path, a sharp, narrow incline without rails. I start up, sticking to the middle to avoid the vertical drop-offs.
6th left. Right at the fork. 200 paces, then . . . right?
Closing my eyes, I funnel all my concentration into the next direction. 200 paces, then left. Yes. That’s the path.
Another hundred steps, and I pause. By this point, I usually sense Kali’s soul-fire to guide me the rest of the way home. I blink several times and peer up the road. The shadows go on, icy against my skin.
A presence stirs behind me. I spin around, dagger out, and stop to listen. Seconds roll into minutes. The presence, whatever it was, has left. My alarm has not. By now Kali’s luminosity should be visible, a beacon high above. I have executed this trek dozens of times, but never without her guiding me.
Think. What now? Where to next?
I stay still until I remember. Little in the mortal realm prepared me for the loneliness of the Void. More so, the stillness. I can endure the loss of sunshine, constant chill, and foul air. But the lack of life stirring in the grass and trees, the quiet without the insects or birds, the absence of rich-smelling dirt and spices, even the monotony of this weather without seasons, tear at me. Life is loud and shouts for attention. It makes a man feel seen. Standing here, so motionless, my breaths feel like a betrayal to my survival.
Finally, my inner voice responds. 200 paces, then left.
Trusting my intuition, I feel my way into the nothingness, praying Kalinda’s soul-fire will appear and lead me home.
16
KALINDA
Tinley blows into her cupped hands. In the descent of nightfall, gales chased off the snow clouds and the temperature plunged. My soul-fire burns high to shield me from the weather, but Tinley’s teeth chatter uncontrollably. I touch her, skin to skin, and send a small pulse of soul-fire into her. The Galer’s whole body unclenches, and the wind whispers her thanks in my ear.
We have sat in our hideout for hours, Tinley observing the sky while I inspect every shadow for the man I long to see.
Come on, Deven. See my soul-fire and follow it to me. I am so determined to draw him out of the Void by sheer will, I nearly miss my friend tensing.
“They’re coming,” she says, her voice faint as a heartbeat.
I arch my chin to see over the rocks. A trio of mahatis casts shadows over the moon. I thought domesticated falcons were fast, but these feral monsters fly like an avalanche falls. Aggressive. Unstoppable. They could outrun the northern wind.
They are upon us, circling the hilltop. The largest one, their leader, screeches so loudly my eardrums pound. His razor-sharp talons are curved into hooks. He has an intelligence in his eyes that his companions lack and a wingspan that is equal to ten sleighs end to end.
Tinley watches the behemoth. “When I say so, throw a heatwave at the smaller mahatis.”
My powers swell under my skin.
The mahatis’ landing trembles the ground. They crowd up to the altar and tear the flesh from the dead with their sharp beaks. I grimace at the feeding noises. Can these mahatis truly ferry Anoush to the Beyond? Must a deplorable act precede peace?
The younger falcons snap at the same limb and screech at each other. Behemoth cuffs one with his wing. I dare not move. Their behaviors differ from the tamed flock in the aviary. These wild males are vicious. One wrong move and we could be their next meal.
As their feeding comes to an end, Tinley draws her winds. Behemoth’s head goes up—he spots us. The mahati throws out his wings, the feathery tips standing upright like blades, and dips his head aggressively. The smaller falcons detect our presence and bristle.
“Now!” Tinley launches to her feet.
Gods. She runs right for the monstrous mahati.
I rise and hurl a heatwave at the smaller falcons. They launch into the sky. Their leader jerks his head toward Tinley. Without warning, a wall of wind slams me forward into the rock. A second later, the gale releases me. I push up, gasping.
Snow flurries rage, thick as a blizzard. Through the fluctuating whiteout, I make out Tinley’s shape. The Galer pins Behemoth to the ground. Her convex of winds holds him while warding off the mahatis screeching above.
Tinley leaps onto Behemoth’s back. “Get on!”
She wants to ride him?
A falcon dives. I throw a heatwave at him. The wind devours most of my flames, but the bird flaps off.
“Kali, hurry!”
I dash into the whiteout and up to Behemoth. The mahati’s legs are wedged beneath him. He strains to stand, his wings locked down. Tinley hauls me up behind her. I clutch her middle, and the gusts die off.
Behemoth secures his footing and launches into the sky. The impetus nearly flings us off. A momentary weightlessness tingles down the length of me. I crouch behind Tinley, arms tight around her. She lifts her chin to the moon as the mahati ascends at breakneck speed. Finally, when I fear we may slide off and fall forever, he flattens out.