“Incredible,” he breathes.
I start down the steep stairway. Could Ashwin respect my powers?
“I’m sorry I didn’t mention I knew about your bhuta heritage before now,” he says, his footsteps at my back. The ease of his apologies continues to astound me. “Brother Shaan swore me to secrecy. He’s concerned Kuval would accuse you of working with the rebels and blame you for Rajah Tarek’s death.”
I stumble downward a step in surprise. His arms come around me and steady my balance. I pull away in haste. He knows about the blood on my hands.
“Brother Shaan explained everything,” he rushes on. “None of it was your fault, Kalinda. You were forced to defend yourself against Kindred Lakia, and you couldn’t have saved Rajah Tarek.”
Ashwin’s defense of me against his parents is the last reply I expected. Brother Shaan must have left out that I conspired with Hastin. Ashwin does not know that I killed Tarek.
“Did you . . . did you love him?” Ashwin asks, misinterpreting my silence as sorrow for my late husband.
“No,” I reply fast. Gods’ virtue, I sound so coldhearted. “I mean to say I hardly knew him.”
“I barely knew him too.” Ashwin passes me on the stairs. I trail him, eager for him to go on. I never observed Tarek act as a parent. “Far back as I can recall, I was raised by the brethren. They were my family. Kindred Lakia and Rajah Tarek visited me once a year, if that.”
I never met my mother or father. Having parents would be a blessing, but Ashwin speaks of his like they were a scourge.
“Tarek was a selfish leader.” Ashwin’s voice hardens with contempt for his father, paired with an undertone of resigned acceptance about his legacy. “My duty is to fix Tarek’s mistakes, but I cannot redeem the empire alone. I need someone at my side, someone who will stand for what’s right, someone who has already found favor with the gods.”
I arrange my features into apathy. Spinning at the back of my mind is the law that promises Ashwin my future. How far will he go to fix his father’s mistakes? Will he rescind his promise and force me to compete? I agree the empire must heal from Tarek’s rule, but I cannot assist Ashwin in the way he wishes. I did my godly duty. I won my rank tournament and ended Tarek. The most I am willing to do is help Ashwin find another competitor from the encampment to represent Tarachand in the trial tournament. He will have to find another champion.
Silence closes in around us as we continue into the dark. The stairs flatten out to a high tunnel. Many paces later, the torchlight reveals odd clay markings across a gray wall face. We pause to inspect the strange symbols.
“Runes,” Ashwin says.
“They’re beautiful.” Whoever left them must have lived a long time ago. I run my finger over the rough stone. “I wonder what they mean.”
“They teach the origin of the Morass.” Ashwin sweeps the light over the ancient drawings. “Would you like me to read you the tale?”
“Can you?” Runes are an ancient language, rarely taught or spoken in Tarachand.
Ashwin answers by beginning to read. “Long ago, when the world was new, Abzu, the freshwater-god, was the first deity, the begetter of all. Soon after Abzu came Tiamat, the saltwater-goddess. Abzu and Tiamat met at the horizon, and when their waters intertwined, Tiamat birthed Anu and Ki.”
Abzu and Tiamat are not deities I worship. The sisters taught me to pray to the sky-god Anu; his consort, Ki, the land-goddess; and their children, the fire-god Enlil and the water-goddess Enki. Though I have heard of Abzu and Tiamat, our temple studies did not focus on the primeval gods.
Ashwin lowers the torchlight and continues. “Anu sought to possess his father’s glory and become king of the gods, so he killed Abzu and usurped his lordship. Enraged by her son’s betrayal, Tiamat birthed the First-Ever Dragon and filled the creature’s body with fiery venom. Together, they made war against her son. Armed with the arrows of his winds, Anu, the god of storms, fought Tiamat and the dragon. Anu cut through the channels of Tiamat’s blood and made the north wind bear her body away into secret places, creating rivers that ran into the salty seas. From her ribs, Anu crafted the vault of sky and land, and from her spine, she sprouted the Morass.”
I rub my chilled arms. “What happened to the First-Ever Dragon?”
Ashwin scans the wall but finds no more runes. “Doesn’t say, but I once read that another name for the demon Kur is the First-Ever Dragon.”
Demons and dragons are one and the same?
A foreboding wind flickers our torch. “We should move on,” I say. We carry onward down the tunnel, more cautious than before. “Who taught you to read runes?”
“My instructor, Brother Dhiren. I wasn’t allowed to go outside or train with the other apprentices, so Brother Dhiren filled my days with lessons.”
I try to picture Ashwin as a child, buried in books instead of playing outside, and my heart squeezes. When I was younger and suffering from fevers, I was often alone. Then I met Jaya. She was a torch in the dark, brightening my world.
“Where is Brother Dhiren now?” I ask.
“He passed away.” Pain Ashwin lacked when he spoke of his parents jams his voice, a sadness that stems from losing someone he loved. He speeds up his pace. “It should be sundown by now, and we still have a ways to go.”
I walk faster, mulling over our conversation. Nothing Ashwin has told me about himself has caused me to doubt him. In fact, his disapproval of his parents and affection for Brother Dhiren are endearing. I do not dislike Ashwin, but I am not ready to trust him yet either.
9
DEVEN
The sunlight under the door weakens to pale silver. Footsteps approach, and the door swings open. I squint at the dusky sky; weak as it is, my eyes still sting in the twilight.
“You may come out now, Captain,” says Vizier Gyan.
I push away from leaning against the wall. Days of traveling without much food weaken my knees, and I weave a step as I exit the hut. Vizier Gyan waits with guards. One of them holds out a whip, the other a sword. I force my face to granite.
Vizier Gyan links his hands behind him. “I’ve spoken with the soldiers. They informed me of your prior accusations. Do you admit to conspiring with the bhuta warlord Hastin and betraying Rajah Tarek?”
Be humble. I draw in a shallow breath. “Yes, sir.”
Vizier Gyan’s staid expression does not change. “I reported my findings to Prince Ashwin. He has no room in his army for traitors. Fortunately for you, he is more lenient than his father. He said if you confessed he would spare your life and deliver a less severe sentence.”
“Does the kindred know I’m here? What did she say?”
The vizier pauses at my unanticipated inquiry. “She’s in accord with the prince. Neither will excuse treachery.”
Kali sided with Prince Ashwin? Something must have happened between them. He could be exercising his first rights to her and forcing her to comply with his wishes.
“I want to see the kindred,” I say.