“Watch out, here she comes,” whispered Nineth. Elena leaped up from where she had been slumped on the floor, and both girls began to sweep the cavern as if their lives depended on it.
“Not slacking, are you?” said Akassa, amused. The glossy-haired girl paused at the passageway that led from her cell to the central cavern. “What shall I tell the Mahimata? Should the apprentices be spared further punishment, or should they be separated from their blades?”
The girls longed to retort but continued sweeping, heads down and eyes fixed on the floor. Akassa might only be trying to frighten them, but it was better not to anger her in any way. She was, after all, Tamsyn’s pet. And they were in trouble, having performed dismally in the Mental Arts class that morning. In truth, they had been in trouble ever since Kyra left.
“The Mahimata says I am ready for my first mark,” said Akassa, leaning against the cavern wall. “I’ve been ready for a long time. Shirin Mam couldn’t see it, but she can.”
“Wishful seeing,” muttered Nineth.
“What? Did you say something, apprentice?”
“Oh, just that I wish I was ready,” said Nineth sweetly. “But I’m not.”
Akassa laughed. “No one in their right mind would think you were. Maybe you’re a forever-apprentice. Or maybe you’ll run away, like your precious Kyra did.” Her tone turned venomous when she said Kyra’s name. Anger coursed through Nineth, but she controlled it and said nothing. Every word she spoke would be reported to Tamsyn.
At last Akassa got bored watching them sweep, and drifted out of the cavern.
“Probably gone to filch potato pies from Tarshana,” muttered Nineth, leaning on her broom and gazing at the single shard of afternoon light that stabbed the cavern through the crawlway.
“Hungry?” said Elena. “Me too.” They seemed to miss most of the midday meals these days, what with random penances handed out by Tamsyn’s favorite few Markswomen.
“I miss her so much,” said Nineth. “I wish she had taken us with her.”
“Hush.” Elena glanced toward the dark holes that marked the passageways out of the cavern. Talk of Kyra was forbidden. Since the day she vanished from the Ferghana Valley, Tamsyn had developed the worrying habit of pouncing on anyone she believed was even thinking of her. As Kyra’s best friends, Nineth and Elena had been summoned to the Mahimata’s cell and subjected to an hour-long interrogation by the Mistress of Mental Arts—a title she retained, even as the Mahimata. It had not been a pleasant experience and neither of them wished to repeat it.
“No one’s listening,” said Nineth. “I would know it if they were. Where do you suppose she went? She didn’t have more than a fifteen-minute head start, yet Tamsyn and the others couldn’t find her.”
Elena sighed. They had been over this many times, and it just didn’t make sense. Tamsyn should have been able to find Kyra no matter how fast she’d ridden Akhtar. A Markswoman’s bond with her blade was a beacon in the dark for those who were adept in the Mental Arts. If she was anywhere in the Ferghana Valley, Tamsyn should have been able to track her down. Unless—and Elena tried to push the thought away but she couldn’t quite succeed—unless she was dead.
Nineth’s voice became lower still as she bent toward Elena. “I think she found a door.”
Elena looked at her friend in exasperation. “Don’t be silly,” she said. “If there was another door or Hub in the Ferghana, the elders would know about it.”
Nineth’s face fell. “Yes, I suppose they would, wouldn’t they?”
Elena’s voice softened. “Give it up, Nineth. We don’t know where she went. We can only hope that she’s fine, wherever she is. Let’s hurry up and finish this floor, okay? We might be able to grab some potato pies ourselves before the next class.”
Nineth brightened and fell to sweeping with renewed vigor.
*
“Looking for something, Eldest?” Tamsyn’s voice at the entrance to the Mahimata’s chamber was coldly inquiring.
Only the decades of training prevented Navroz Lan from squeaking with surprise. As it was, she took her time straightening up from Shirin Mam’s old desk, smoothing her robe, and turning around. Damn the woman, how had she been able to sneak up on her unawares?
Navroz squelched her betraying thoughts. “My apologies for disturbing you, Tamsyn, but there is a matter of some import. We have a visitor from the Order of Valavan. The Order has received disturbing reports of violence in the Thar Desert, and wishes to discuss them with us. I thought you might like to meet her at once.”
Tamsyn’s smile was glacial. “Indeed,” she murmured, gliding into the cell and sitting at the desk. “Is she an elder? No? You and Felda should be enough for her. It is not fitting that the Mahimata of Kali receive every Markswoman who takes it into her head to come to our caves.”
“As you wish.” Navroz backed away, eyes lowered. Near the entrance she straightened, permitting a tiny bubble of relief to escape her lips.
“A moment, Eldest.”
Navroz stopped, pulse quickening as she raised her eyes to gaze at the new Mahimata.
“Is this what you were searching for?” Tamsyn tossed a linen-wrapped package on the desk and leaned back, watching her with a hooded gaze.
Despite herself, Navroz’s eyes darted toward the package. She had hoped that Shirin Mam had left a message or a clue for her to find, but it seemed Tamsyn had found it first. Well, she wasn’t about to reveal her dismay to the Mahimata. “I don’t know what you mean, Tamsyn,” she said. “I was here to inform you of the visitor from Valavan. What is in this package? Is it something important?”
“I found it in a hidden drawer in this desk,” said Tamsyn. “Perhaps it is something from Shirin Mam. Would you like to open it? I can see that you would. Here, take it.”
Navroz stared at her, concealing her surprise. This woman was more devious than a demon. The package must be sealed with a word of power, or Tamsyn would have opened it herself. Obviously, Tamsyn was testing her. Aloud she said, “I thank you for the honor, but it is not my place to open it. If it is from Shirin Mam, it is intended for you, the new Mahimata. You will inform us of the contents if you deem it appropriate. Now if you will excuse me, I must see if the elders can join me in meeting our visitor.”
She bowed and left before Tamsyn could say anything further. As she walked down the torchlit passage that led to the central cavern, her eyes strayed to the last portrait hanging on the wall. Shirin Mam’s face smiled back at her and she wanted to curse. What had Shirin Mam been up to, those last few days?