Hadjia's fingers went slack, and her knife dropped out of her hand. She stifled the scream building in her throat. What had Kaneko done?
Kaneko stepped back, her eyes darting between Hadjia and the girl. A look of surprise flashed across her face, then disappeared into the cool depths of Kaneko’s eyes. “Come, Hadjia.”
Anzai rushed up the stairs and into the room. “Villagers,” he panted. “They’re coming now. Someone must have seen the bodies outside and called for help.”
“We must go,” Kaneko urged.
But Hadjia remained in place, staring at the mirror-girl’s body. Would that be what she herself would look like in death?
A terrible feeling rose within Hadjia.
Mother Sigunta’s words shared with the black robed man whirled again through Hadjia’s mind, taunting her as she stared into the face of a girl who surely had been her sister.
Mother Sigunta had been ordering them to kill innocent victims. Hadjia had just killed her parents.
Celty
Celty wanted to kick free of her bonds, push herself off the stake, and attack the tribesman in front of her until she raked off all his skin with her fingernails. But the ropes on her ankles and wrists kept her immobile. Her forehead became spotted with great drops of sweat.
One of the masked tribesman took his spear, jabbing Ranbelt with it just under his chin in an effort to silence his irritating, grating laugh.
Another tribesman continued to hold his lit torch aloft; he did not touch it to the sticks below Celty and the others. Behind him, the leader advanced, addressing Ranbelt.
"Why do you laugh in such a way, fool? You are about to die."
"Honorable Chief, I laugh because you're burning your opportunity to take back what is rightfully yours."
A pregnant pause ensued. The Chief held up a hand and said, "Nilis."
The chants and the banging drums fell silent. In the aftermath, the sound still seemed to ring through the air, pulsing through Celty's veins. What could Ranbelt possibly mean? She'd known that he wasn't a simple traveling minister – there was more to him – but what could he restore to these people?
"What do you mean?" the leader asked.
"Do you see who you are sacrificing?" Ranbelt nodded toward Isao with a quick jerk of his head. "Do you know that this is the son of Emperor Saemon VIII, and the only one who could grant you rights back to your land, your dignity, and all you once were?
“All you have to do is give him and his party their freedom, of course. It's really quite simple, isn't it?"
For the first time, Celty felt a sliver of hope – and annoyance that, yet again, Ranbelt had proved himself to be more than the way he acted. Only Isao maintained an even, unreadable expression, watching both the leader and Ranbelt with equal parts curiosity. Khalem grunted under his breath.
"Why should I trust such a wild man as yourself? These words mean nothing to me."
"Look at their weapons."
The Chief waved a hand, and two tribesmen grabbed up the duo’s weapons that lay outside the wooden cage, bearing them to the Chief. A conversation erupted in their language, between the leader and the guards.
Isao cleared his throat. "Honorable Chief," he called. "I will confirm Ranbelt's words."
Celty couldn't help but admire the confidence in his voice. The prince might be new to the battlefield, but clearly he'd been trained for diplomatic situations in the past.
The clicking and exchange of words between the leader and the tribesmen stopped. The leader turned, so that the mask seemed to gaze upon Isao now.
"I am the heir to the throne of Marugan. If you observe my blade, you'll see the sign of the Hiwan Clan there as evidence that I am who I say I am. This is my General, Khalem. And my friend, Celty."
The word friend sent a shiver down Celty. Not slave. Not servant. Friend. She'd never had a friend before.
"Why didn't you say this before?" the leader asked. A flicker of uncertainty sounded in the leader’s voice.
"I'm traveling to accomplish an extremely important task and am most certainly being pursued. In order to maintain secrecy and our ability to move without causing harm to others, I must remain quiet until I have no choice." Isao motioned to one tribesman holding a torch in front of him. "Like right now."
There was another long pause.
"What can you do for my people, Prince? You have no power here. If you are running from your home, I have doubts that you truly have any power there. If I extend mercy to you, I may be the fool. Last time we were the fools, we lost everything."
"Your concerns are valid, honorable Chief. I know the story of how you lost your forest due to greedy men who killed you and drove you out."
Isao's calmness under pressure was admirable, and Celty envied him his ability to speak without trembling or fear in his voice.
The Chief's shoulders seemed to relax slightly. Celty’s did the same.
"You're right," Isao continued. "I have no power here. But I do have power back in Marugan. I can guarantee that I will do everything I can to give back what has been wrongfully taken, and to restore your people, and yourself, to your former glory."
"Bravo!" Ranbelt cried. "Bravo young prince."
Khalem's sour expression relaxed into the most approving one Celty had observed yet.
The leader raised a hand yet again. "Kol bedi."
The four tribesmen holding the torch backed away four steps. The heat from his torch faded, and Celty breathed out a deep sigh of relief just as a trickle of sweat dripped off her forehead.
A long, tense moment passed as the leader paused, seeming to stare at the captives. "For now, I will choose to believe you. Adan tege matt nan belig."
The tribesman and guards surged forward to untie the ropes at Celty's ankles and wrists. They released Isao and Khalem as well, but didn't make a move towards Ranbelt.
Ranbelt shot Celty a wink with the eye not hidden behind his of blond hair. She scowled and stepped away. Blood oozed out on her wrists now; the untying had reopened here wounds resulting from being tied up in the stables. She longed for a cool bucket of water to plunge them into, to quelch the burning pain.
Isao took a step forward first, away from his stake. Khalem fell in behind him, to Isao’s right. His one hand twitched near his side, where his sword normally would be hanging. Celty stepped up into a spot behind both men.
"You are safe for now," the leader declared. "But the one-eyed vagabond can stay tied there for now."
Isao looked to Ranbelt as he dragged his bottom lip through his teeth.
"No, Prince," Khalem murmured. "You cannot save everyone."
“But – ” Isao began.
“My decision is final,” the Chief said. “He will burn.”
“No! Why will you release us and not him?” Isao pressed.
“Because it is my decision to make.”
“Go, Prince, leave, ” Ranbelt said, jerking his head toward the bars. “Don’t worry about me. My luck is always strong.”
"I will pay for him,” Isao said, turning back to the Chief. “I will take responsibility for him as my servant.”
“No.”
The leader began to walk, directing them back into the caves. “Chief, please listen to reason.”
“I said my word is final,” the Chief barked, whirling around to face Isao again. The mask’s face seemed to glow, great and terrible.
Isao recoiled.
“Sheng!” Khalem muttered. “Don’t kill all of us because of a merciful impulse.”
Isao glanced to Celty. She nodded her agreement, all the while wanting to whack him in the back of his head and tell him not to be stupid.
The Chief spun around, walking again. Isao glanced at Ranbelt grinning from the stake.
Celty felt a sudden rise of uncertainty: Should they really leave him? It did seem wrong. Such a horrid fate. Then again, what could they do?
Khalem tugged Isao’s arm. “Come, Prince.”
Isao hesitated another moment, holding his ground.
“Prince!” the general barked.