Why them and not us? Why can they not protect everyone? Are they so weak?
She would return Audblayin to the Garden. Yes, she would. But not now. Not yet. The Garden was no place for children, and there was no place that was a good place for slaves. Let baby Ylly stay with her mother, and below the barrier too. Then, perhaps Audblayin in her next life would have a proper answer to give, when asked why everyone couldn’t pass through the barrier, why everyone could not live in the sun.
It was a good decision, Unar thought, but it also robbed her of the triumphant moment she’d dreamed of for so long. She wiped her nose on her torn sleeve. The motion drew Aoun’s attention to the seams where her spines were hidden. His handsome face showed revulsion.
“Unar, those cannot be … you cannot … the rules have been bent, this day. I don’t believe there would be objections if I … Unar, do you want me to … I could remove those. I could heal them.”
“No, Aoun.” Unar gathered Ylly to her again. She reached out to unfasten the sash that held his robes closed. He allowed it, but she took no pleasure in the sight of his muscular chest. The sash was for binding the child safely, and his bore-knife she took because the Garden made good tools. She might not again have the opportunity to take one. “I’ll need them.”
She slashed at the branch beneath her feet with her forearm. Her spines bit deep. She lowered herself over the edge, meeting Aoun’s gaze for what felt like the last time. He could have called the king’s men to imprison her, a traitor whose only place was as a slave. Instead, he shifted his position slightly so that his body shielded her from their line of sight.
Neither of them said good-bye.
FIFTY-EIGHT
AS UNAR dropped through the barrier, her magic faded.
Not all of it, just most. Ylly cried continuously, calling for her mother. Unar would go back for Sawas, but she had to see Oos first. She moved gradually around the great girth of the tree, until the river lay to her left. Down and down, into the rainless gloom, her final task incomplete.
Not yet. I cannot join you yet, Isin. First, I must have an answer to your Master’s question.
At one point, she became aware of three men with hatchets, trying to chop their way into the tree. Tallowwood was extremely hard, and they hadn’t made much progress. They couldn’t enter the huntsmen’s home through the flooded front entrance beneath the river, so they were attempting to enlarge one of the ventilation holes that supplied the storeroom. They’d torn off the mesh that kept insects out, and splinters flew.
Some kind of poisonous smoke made them cough. Esse. He must have been burning something beneath the hole, up on the ledge where the tallow candles normally sat, but it wasn’t poisonous enough to kill the would-be intruders, who still searched for Oos, not knowing that their mistress, Core Kirrik, was dead.
Three white faces looked up and saw Unar. Before they could reach for weapons, she murmured the godsong to herself. Her chest vibrated, relaxing the baby who squirmed there, but there was no sound.
Instead, the three men simply dropped off the tree, their snake-tooth spines dissolved into nothing, eaten by the healing of their own human bones. Aoun had given her the idea.
Unar had loved the three men for their urge to find freedom, their hunger for justice, even as she killed them. What did killing matter anymore? She couldn’t enter the Garden. There was no difference between two deaths and five. She climbed down further, until her face was level with the ventilation hole.
“Esse,” she called down the hole, coughing. “Stop burning whatever it is you’re burning. I have Ylly’s granddaughter. I’m coming inside.”
The living wood flexed and shivered. It opened for her, transforming into a stairway, the arched opening a smaller replica of the Great Gate. She swung herself down into it, withdrawing her spines from the tallowwood, and walked down two dozen steps to stand in the small room where she’d slept with Issi, Ylly, Oos, and Hasbabsah.
They all stood there, now, Issi in Ylly’s arms, gaping at Unar. Esse stamped distractedly on some ashes, but Bernreb and Marram held long knives, showing no signs of recognition.
“Are they controlling you, Unar?” Marram asked softly.
“No,” Unar said. “Your amulet protected me. Thank you. You should take it back now.” She lifted the cord over her head, handing the bone amulet back to Marram, and also held out the younger Ylly for Bernreb to take.
Bernreb looked to Esse, who nodded briskly, before putting away the blade and lifting Ylly’s small body away. Unar sagged immediately, sitting down, hard, on the steps she had made.
“What happened?” Marram asked, slipping the amulet over his head. “Is that really Ylly’s granddaughter? Did you catch her? Did she fall?”
“She didn’t fall,” Unar said. “She can’t fall. Odel protects her, even though he’s dead now. Ehkis, the rain goddess, is dead, too. I don’t know what happened to Ilan, goddess of justice, Protector of Kings, whom Kirrik had captive. I didn’t see her, or the man, Sikakis, who carried her.”
“Two gods.” Hasbabsah deliberated. “Maybe three. It is the most they have managed in some time.”
“But still futile,” Esse said, stamping.
“We know, Esse. It is why we left them,” Marram said.
“They wanted Oos,” Ylly said, sharing a glance with the younger, darker woman.
“To keep her captive,” Marram said. “To use her, as they used Unar.”
“Is that true, Unar?” Oos asked. Her long hair, gleaming and springy, hung in two cord-gathered bunches over her breasts. Her neckline was embroidered with seedlings that Unar thought were symbols of the Garden, but as the smoke cleared, she recognised as night-and humidity-loving Understorian epiphytes. Her huge eyes were fearful, and her voice quavered. “Did they use you? Or are you with them? How did you get through the barrier? Where is that little girl, Frog, who went with you?”
Unar stared at her. She didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. She was my sister, and I killed her.
“Oos,” she said, “I’m going back to get Sawas. She’s at the House of Epatut.”
Thank you for sending Marram after me.
“Mama,” baby Ylly said.
“Yes,” Unar said. “I’m going to get Mama and bring her here.”
“This is my house,” Esse said loudly.
“We have room,” Bernreb grumbled, peeling a black grape for the younger Ylly, clearly already taken by his newest guest.
“We have room,” Marram said, his grey eyes sparkling, “if Unar will consent to form some added rooms, just as she has formed this magnificent staircase.”
“I can make more rooms,” Esse scowled. “That’s not the point.”
“Oos,” Unar said, ignoring him, “I can take you back up through the barrier. I know the way through, but you must come now if you’re coming. Servant Eilif is dead. Once they choose another to take her place, there could be no room left for you.”