Rustan danced away and blocked Shurik’s blade with his own, striking upward so that sparks flew from both kataris. The force of the clashing blades vibrated through his wrist and down his forearm. Shurik must have felt it too; his face spasmed with pain and he staggered back. Usually, Rustan would have waited for him to recover, but he wanted to end this particular bout. He dove forward and twisted Shurik’s blade arm back until he had forced him to his knees.
“Yield,” he said, holding Shurik down with his own right knee pressed into his back, and his blade on Shurik’s neck.
“Never,” gasped Shurik. “That was less than half a minute. Kill me now, before Ishtul does.”
Sure enough, the elder stalked up to them, his face like thunder. “Abysmal,” he growled. “Must I send you to train with the apprentices?”
Rustan released Shurik and stepped back. Shurik rose and hung his head, trying to look ashamed. But since it was something Ishtul threatened him with in every other class, Rustan knew it was all pretense on his friend’s part.
“Perhaps, Elder, it is not a bad suggestion,” said Rustan. “If Shurik were to actually teach the apprentices, he would learn more.”
Don’t don’t don’t . . . Shurik thought at him frantically. Rustan suppressed a grin.
“I will consider it,” said Ishtul. “But I don’t want the apprentices to suffer either. Rustan, I’m afraid you must miss the rest of this class. Astinsai wants to speak with you.”
Again? Since the day she made him drink Rasaynam, Rustan had warred with two impulses: First, to burst into Astinsai’s tent and demand another taste of it. And second, to steal away from Khur in the dead of night and never show his face again to the Order.
Both options were untenable. But so was Rustan’s current situation. His face must have betrayed something of what he was feeling, for the elder frowned. “Remember who you are,” he said softly. “And remember who she is.”
Shurik raised his head and scrutinized Rustan, gauging his depths, seeing the darkness even the elder could not.
Rustan bowed and turned away from both of them, trying to control his emotions. What new horror did the katari mistress have in store for him? He walked toward her tent, filled with misgiving.
But, in the end, what she had to say was not horrific at all. It was simply incomprehensible. She had a new assignment for him, one that made no sense.
“You want me to do what?” he asked, when he was seated opposite her.
“I want you to watch the Akal-shin door from sunup to sundown every day,” repeated Astinsai, with more patience than she normally displayed.
“Why in the sands would I do that?” said Rustan. “No one has come through that door in centuries. What am I supposed to do there?” The Akal-shin door was only a mile away, embedded in the base of a massive cliff, but the codes were long since lost.
“Watch and wait,” said Astinsai, clarifying nothing. She added, with a return to her usual asperity, “Or is that too difficult a task for you, Marksman?”
Not difficult. Futile. But Rustan held his tongue. At least it was something to do, even if it felt more like a penance than an actual task. And it would keep him away from Shurik’s inquisitive eyes.
Chapter 12
Against the Darkness
The sky had lightened to lavender by the time Kyra cantered out of the horse enclosure on Akhtar, Shirin Mam’s bay stallion. Rinna whinnied in indignation at being left behind by her mistress, but Akhtar was the fastest horse in the stable, and Kyra needed to move quickly. Besides, he had belonged to Shirin Mam. It seemed right to choose him.
She cast a last look back at the caves of Kali, and urged Akhtar to a gallop across the twilit valley. Her heart felt as though it was tearing in two. She was leaving the only home she had known for the last fourteen years. She was leaving her friends. But it was too late for regrets.
Poor Nineth. How would she fare with the poisonous Tamsyn as the new head of the Order? Take me with you, she had thought to Kyra as she left the cavern. And gentle Elena, who tried and failed to hide her shock and betrayal at Kyra’s abrupt departure—how would she cope?
At least they had each other. And Kyra hadn’t planned on running away. That was just the way it happened. Once she picked up Shirin Mam’s katari, she didn’t have much choice.
Again and again the scene played out. Throwing aside the curtain to the Mahimata’s cell. The sight of the body, lying twisted on the floor. The blood and the stench of death. The vultures circling overhead.
Vultures? No, her memories were playing tricks on her. Kyra wrenched her mind away and focused on the task at hand. Do what you have to do. Grieve later.
She didn’t know where to go, except away from the caves. Something impelled her to ride toward Yashmin-Gah, the sacred grove in the hills of Gonur where Shirin Mam had led a meditation one full-moon night a few years ago. Was this the right way? Was the Mahimata’s spirit guiding her?
Kyra slowed Akhtar to a walk, closed her eyes, and relaxed into a meditative trance. At once she sensed the powerful presence of the alien blade, pulsating against her skin. Her own blade seemed subdued in comparison—not any less than what it had been, but overshadowed by a more ancient weapon.
She fought against her instinct to repel Shirin Mam’s katari; instead, she opened herself up to it. She sought again the vision of the pool of water, and asked for the knowledge that lay outside her reach: Where was this place? What should she do there?
The answers danced in her mind like bits of flame. Hidden in Yashmin-Gah was a disused Hub, a surefire escape from Tamsyn. If Kyra could pass through a Transport Hub, the elder would no longer be able to sense her whereabouts.
Shirin Mam’s blade was full of secrets. Perhaps she had suspected Tamsyn’s treachery and wanted to make sure Kyra could flee the Order with the Mahimata’s ancient weapon. In that case, might not the blade be able to tell Kyra how its owner had died? Or what Kyra was supposed to do after putting as much distance as she could between herself and the Hand of Kali?
Emptying her mind, Kyra sank into the trance once more. But this time she was disappointed, for she got no further answers.
Kyra put the blade out of her thoughts and concentrated on her destination. Yashmin-Gah was the right way to go. She remembered walking through the ancient trees of the sacred grove after Shirin Mam’s meditation exercises, and almost stumbling into a little pool of water. The smell of roses and the sighing of rushes in the wind swept over her. Her heart quickened as she thought of the door, hidden where no one could see it. Shirin Mam had left this knowledge in her blade for Kyra to find.
At last, Kyra understood why the Mahimata had given her that “special assignment” with the codes that could unlock any door in any Hub. Her teacher had been prepared for the betrayal. Why, then, had she done nothing to stop Tamsyn? It was a painful riddle; one day, she would have the truth of it.
The sun slipped into the sky; she didn’t have much time. The last rite would be complete when the first rays of the sun touched Shirin Mam, no matter how long the body took to burn. Tamsyn would waste no time in coming after her.
*