Kyra shot Rustan a furious glance. “I don’t need anyone to teach me how to katari duel, Maji-khan, especially not him.”
Barkav gazed at both of them out of calm eyes that were the color of a leaden sky. He didn’t say a word, but after a moment, Rustan lowered his head. Kyra’s cheeks burned. She wished with all her heart that she had not spoken. To her relief, Barkav gave a curt gesture of dismissal. Kyra almost tripped and fell in her hurry to leave.
Chapter 15
A Price to Pay
The wind had fallen silent. Kyra stood outside her tent, drinking in the stark splendor of the scene. A silver moon rode high in the sky, dimming the stars and bathing the sands with its phosphorescent light.
“Beautiful, is it not?” a voice rasped behind Kyra. It was Astinsai. In the moonlight her tiny, wizened form and hooded face took on an almost inhuman cast.
Kyra shivered. “Beautiful but cold.”
“There is always a price to pay for beauty,” said Astinsai with a gap-toothed grin. “Or for love. Oh, never mind me,” she added. “I am old and sentimental and cannot say anything original anymore. But come to my tent, if you will. I want to see your face by the light of my own fire.”
Kyra was bone-tired, and she would have to get up before dawn for the so-called lessons with Rustan. But an invitation to spend time with the last living katari mistress did not come every day. So she bowed and said, “I would be honored.”
She was curious to see how the katari mistress lived. Would there be shelves of glass pitchers filled with colorful potions? Bunches of roots and herbs hanging from the ceiling to ward off evil spirits? Luxurious silk cushions and rugs lining the floors? Glass mirrors and bronze urns? Kyra’s imagination soared as she followed the old woman to the edge of the Khur camp.
In this, however, she was sorely disappointed. The Old One lived in a small, nondescript dwelling. Kyra had to duck her head to enter it, and by the wavering light of the stove, she could see that the carpet on the floor was ragged and the felts lining the walls were stained with age and smoke. Incense burned at a tiny altar behind a wooden pallet; its heavy, sweet scent permeated the air. Books and scrolls made an untidy heap on one side of the pallet. It hardly seemed a suitable abode for a renowned katari mistress and seer.
Astinsai lowered herself on a cushion and studied Kyra out of bright little eyes. Like a wrinkled old spider, waiting in its lair for some tasty treat, Kyra couldn’t help but think, though she quickly brushed the thought away as she knelt opposite the seer. “Is it my face that you want to see or my honesty that you wish to test, mistress?” She had not meant to speak, but the words spilled out anyway.
Astinsai cackled. “Oh, I have no doubt of your honesty. But I do wish to see your face. After all, this is the first time a pretty young woman has come into our midst. I am sure the younger ones are already half in love.”
“We are bound by the Kanun of Ture-asa,” said Kyra, striving to maintain her deferential tone. “None of us can forget the vows we have made in the names of our ancestors.”
“Oh, nonsense,” said Astinsai. “Ture-asa may have been the last king and prophet of Asiana, but he was sick with metal poison when he wrote the Kanun. Sick, blind, and dying. The Great War was almost over and poison had spread into every field and lake.”
Kyra listened, fascinated. She had never heard Ture-asa referred to except in the most reverent of tones. She knew that the Orders had come into being because of Ture-asa’s writings, not long after his death. He had predicted as much, and laid down the laws that would bring Asiana out of the dark aftermath of the Great War. Copies of the original text were much prized, and preserved by the clans with great care. They were heirlooms, passed from one generation to the next. The Order of Kali had a copy of a copy; it was kept locked in the Mahimata’s trunk, only removed on the most special of occasions.
“Ture-asa’s son was killed and the line of kings was broken forever,” Astinsai continued. “Ture-asa knew that he had little time left, and he wrote his Kanun in a hurry. All the rules about chastity are there to lend weight to the text, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they were added later by one of his overzealous ministers. In any case, they are wrong. Why do you think the ability to bond with kalishium is becoming rarer? If Markswomen do not breed, how will they pass on their talents to future generations?”
“You think the ability to bond with kalishium is inherited?” said Kyra, flabbergasted.
“Of course,” said Astinsai. “What did you think, it is some sort of mystical power you are graced with? No. The Ones must have altered certain humans when they first came here, perhaps to communicate with them. Those who were altered passed the trait down their bloodline.”
This was too much to take in. Kyra was sure there was nothing in Ture-asa’s texts about any of this. She wondered how the elders of Kali would feel about such an interpretation of their abilities. They’d probably call it heresy and forbid her to talk nonsense. But Astinsai seemed sure of herself, and it wasn’t the most far-fetched theory. The Ones had brought kalishium from the stars; perhaps people had to be changed before they could use it.
“How do you know all this?” said Kyra. “Are you descended from Ture-asa himself? They say that only those who can call a king ancestor are blessed with the far-sight.”
Astinsai snorted. “I don’t even know my own parents,” she said. “I make no claims to royal ancestry. And my visions are not always to be trusted. There was a time when I could work kalishium to make kataris. No more. I grow older than I dreamed possible.” She shook her head, as if to rid it of unpleasant thoughts. “Enough. Tell me about yourself, child. Do you truly think your life is best spent seeking vengeance for those who will never return?”
The change of subject caught Kyra off guard. “How do you know about that?” she asked.
“Every elder knows the fate of Veer. The eldest grandchild of the headwoman was the sole survivor of the massacre, and you bear her name. There is no one else to speak for the dead. Besides, we heard rumors about the execution of Kai Tau’s eldest son.” She paused. “You did not answer my question.”
Kyra hesitated, unwilling to admit her need for revenge to the katari mistress. But Astinsai seemed to know everything already. “I’m not going to spend my whole life on this task. At least, I hope not,” she said. “But until I punish the men who killed my family, I will have no peace. I was five years old when my world came to an end. Yet I have lived on for fourteen years; to what end?”
“To what end indeed,” said Astinsai. “Did you never wonder why the Taus destroyed your clan? And why they spared you?”