Musicians set up drums and two-string chordophones on the walkway over the stream. The drummers strike a low beat, and the sultan’s courtesans rise to dance in the garden. Citra tugs on Ashwin’s hand. He tries to anchor himself to me, but I have no interest in battling the princess for a dance with him.
After they go, Indah bends across the table toward me. “I’d like to speak with you alone, Kindred.”
I would rather return to my chamber for the night, but I am interested to hear what she has to say. Tinley is so fixated on her food she does not care that we leave her at the table alone. Indah and I move away from the music and cross the garden to a banister near the cliff. A dark figure follows us, a tall man with a sleeveless tunic and short baggy pants. His hair is long at the back and shaved on the top of his head and around his ears. A blowgun hangs at his waist, the short bamboo pole sticking out of his leather belt.
Indah catches me staring at him. “That’s Pons, my personal guard.”
Pons stops behind us, his stance protective, attentive. Longing for Deven draws my gaze over the cliff to the dim lights of the encampments. Great Anu, please heal him.
“Your assessment at supper was entertaining,” I say to divert my thoughts from Deven. “How did Citra’s mother die?”
“She and Vizier Gyan were near the Tarachand border when Rajah Tarek launched his eradication of bhutas. A battle ensued, and she was caught between the imperial soldiers and the rebels.” Indah faces the terrace, studying the sultan and his wives. “The sultan hoards his wives and courtesans like gems to stow away in a treasury. In my nation, women and men are free to choose their own fate. Who we wed isn’t tied to our godly devotion.”
Lestari is a republic nation. Why would Indah give up her freedom to wed Ashwin? “You didn’t say what you stand to gain from the trial tournament.”
“Neither did you.” Her gold eyes take me in. They are nearly the same color as Brac’s, only paler. “I think my initial assessment of you was off. You’re content to stay in the shadows, aren’t you?”
I answer with a guarded smile. Indah will have to find out about my past with Tarek and Deven from someone else. I will not be supplying her secrets.
“Datu Bulan was impressed with your success in the rank tournament,” Indah notes. “He was not invited to attend your wedding, but we heard word of it. We were shocked to learn of Tarek’s death. He has lorded over the continent for years. Now that he’s dead, many wonder what’s become of the Zhaleh.”
Alarm spikes through me, but I manage not to react. “I have no idea.”
“Datu Bulan feared the fall of Vanhi meant Hastin seized the Zhaleh as well, but our informants reported that the warlord has been hunting for it . . . and you.”
“I cannot imagine why.”
Indah folds her arms loosely across her chest. “I can tell you’re lying. Your heartbeat sped up. I can feel the blood pumping faster through your veins.”
Indah senses the water in my blood moving through my body. Remarkable and terrifying. Since she can detect my lie, I opt to say nothing.
“The Zhaleh belongs in Lestari, protected by our Virtue Guards,” she presses. “We want to help Prince Ashwin, but Datu Bulan won’t provide aid to the empire unless the Zhaleh is safe with us.”
My pulse hums faster despite her monitoring it. “Then you’ve wasted your time coming here.”
I start to walk away, and Indah calls after me. “You cannot protect the book alone, Kalinda. Only Virtue Guards can guarantee its security.”
I pass Pons in the shadows and speed up. I hasten out of the garden, past the celebrating guests, and into the palace. Partway down the corridor, I pull off my veil and then turn into my chamber. Natesa’s antechamber door is closed; she must have turned in for the night. I haul out my sketchbook. The Zhaleh is still hidden inside, but for how long? Indah cannot be alone in her search. Everyone knows Tarek had the book, and now that he is dead—
My chamber door flings open, and Ashwin marches in. “Are you all right? I saw you leave the feast in a hurry.”
I lay the book in my lap and conceal it with my hands. “I’m fine. Indah said something that worried me.”
“Was it about the Zhaleh?” His directness blindsides me. Ashwin sits beside me on the bed. “Brother Shaan told me you brought it from home. Do you have it?”
Brother Shaan trusts the prince enough to tell him about the book, so I might as well show him. I remove the Zhaleh from the sketchbook facade and set it in his lap.
Ashwin rests a tentative hand over the weathered cover. “It’s real.” He opens the book and peruses the pages. “I appreciate all books and texts, but this . . . The Zhaleh has existed since Anu bestowed godly powers on the First Bhutas.” He reaches the back of the book, farther than I sought. The final page has symbols all over it, runes.
“Can you read them?”
“A few.” Ashwin runs his fingers over the marks. “This means ‘evernight,’ this means ‘smoke,’ and this here means ‘awaken’ or ‘rekindle.’”
My skin bristles in alarm. “This is the incantation to release the Voider.”
Ashwin pulls his finger away from the page, as if touching it alone will transfer evil onto him. “I dare not read more, for once the incantation is started, it must be completed. I don’t know if this belief is true, but I’ve heard the invoker will go mad with desire to finish the spell.”
“The incantation is a curse?”
“From what I can glean, it is sort of a prayer, but not to the gods.”
“Then to who?” I question.
“Not who, what. When the day was made, so was the night. When man was made, so was his shadow. The Void dwells in darkness, and life dwells in light. The Voider cannot cross over to where light reigns unless he’s invited. But once welcomed, everything the gods created would be consumed by evernight.”
My nerves tingle from heightened awareness. The shadows between the lanterns grow sinister fangs.
Ashwin goes on in a hushed tone. “It’s said that the Voider can call to those in the light, tempting them with the promise of a favor. From what I have read, it isn’t a favor as we know it. Whatever the person who releases the Voider desires most is the bargain the demon must fulfill. Even knowing the dangers, having your heart’s wish granted is an enticement many cannot resist.”
My heart’s wish is to start a life with Deven independent of the rajah’s reign, but I would not unleash a demon to attain it. “A heart’s wish won’t mean much when the world is ending.”
Ashwin closes the Zhaleh and offers it to me. “Desperate people can be deceived. A mirage tricks them into believing cool waters await them, but when they bring a drink to their lips, they draw in sand.”
I hold the Zhaleh, a plan to hide it forming in my mind. I will need a contingency arrangement should something happen to me during the trial tournament. I offer Ashwin the oil vessel. “The Zhaleh and vessel are both needed to release the Voider, so we’ll hide them apart. You take the vessel, and I’ll take the book.”
Ashwin studies the small container with a troubled frown. “How many bhutas died to fill this?”