Firesoul Read online

  "We have," Simla said. She looked from Kalun to Amiro and back. "You have both brought the parties involved. Bring them up, and tell them that I would ask them questions, and they are to answer."

  "Right, that's us," Linaria said. She rose and Jiri followed. Beside them, Sera and Morvius stood too. All of them moved out into the corridor, and a little ways from them Patima and Corrianne did the same. "You're doing well, Jiri. Just keep yourself in control," Linaria whispered as they walked forward.

  Walking up the aisle beneath colored lights, Jiri didn't answer. She couldn't even if she had something to say. All her anger, all the powerful heat of it, had been shoved suddenly into a distant corner of her mind, forced away by fear.

  When they rose, hundreds of eyes had turned on them. Turned on her. Strange eyes, watching, focused, waiting. So many eyes. Jiri clenched her hands to keep them from shaking. The last time she had felt like this was when she had danced the Orchid Dance in Thirty Trees, and that had been with a dozen other girls, in front of people she had known all her life, people who...Wouldn't fill a quarter of this hall. The thought shook her, and now her whole body trembled. The crowds of Kibwe had always made her feel strange, nervous, but excited too. This being watched, by all these strangers...

  It was terrifying.

  She barely heard Simla when she began to speak. "I've heard from our citizens. Now I wish to hear from you others. You first, Corrianne." The old woman rolled the foreign name off her tongue as if it were distasteful.

  Corrianne's mouth twisted, but the mage forced it back into a little pout of worry. "Oh, noble Councilwoman, I would be happy—"

  "You would be silent," Simla snapped. "Until I've asked my question."

  Corrianne did a worse job of hiding her annoyance this time, but at a look from Amiro she pulled her features back to a sort of wounded innocence.

  "How did you speak to these people?" Simla waved at Jiri and her companions. "Did you greet them, or insult them?"

  "Insult?" Corrianne gasped. "Why, I would never! Discourtesy is the gravest of sins in Taldor, my noble birthplace, and I would never allow an insult to pass my lips, no matter how deserved. I merely greeted my old friends, Morvius and Linaria, and congratulated them on their recent success, surviving another trip into the dangerous reaches of the Expanse, despite all the odds that fate had stacked against them. The woman wrapped in all that dull steel, I barely know her, and the young woman I know not at all, so I ignored her until she attacked. It was terrible—"

  "Enough. I don't need your opinions," Simla said. "Though they do seem to drip from your words. You, Patima. Do you believe your companion was being friendly, or was she trying to incite these others to violence?"

  Patima looked up, her face open, serene. "Corrianne?"

  With everyone's attention focused on Simla and the other women, Jiri had relaxed enough to get a little angry at Corrianne's words, but they had mostly relieved her. The sweetness the magician had tried to put on them hadn't hidden her venom. When Patima spoke, though, a new fear touched the shaman. Patima's voice was clear and perfect, a beautiful instrument. She's a singer, a storyteller. They'll listen to her.

  Believe her.

  "She spoke to them as she speaks to everyone," Patima said. "And while I don't believe Corrianne had any wish to be attacked, I don't believe she was surprised by it."

  Both Corrianne and Amiro shot Patima looks, Corrianne's annoyed, Amiro's exasperated. Simla watched them and then spoke. "Jiri Maju attacked you. Did you provoke her?"

  "I told her truths she didn't want to hear," Patima said.

  "And did you feel threatened by her?" Simla asked.

  "No."

  "Even after she attacked you?"

  "I didn't really notice when she attacked me." Patima's eyes turned toward Jiri.

  For that moment, Jiri's rage almost pushed back against her fear of the crowd, but then she realized that many other eyes had swung to stare at her, too. Her fear smashed her anger back again and froze her, far more so than Linaria's cool hand on her arm.

  Simla turned her attention away from Patima and to Linaria. "What do you say, Lan— Len— white-hair?"

  "I say Corrianne's reputation is well known," Linaria said smoothly.

  Simla didn't even try Morvius's name. "And you?"

  The northern man seemed to consider a few things while Linaria frowned at him, then simply said, "Corrianne's a bloody bowl of awful. And that's the best I can say about her without getting into those fighting words you're talking about."

  "And you, holy warrior?" Simla asked.

  "By my holy vows," Sera said calmly, "I must keep as close as possible to the truth. So I would ask, is calling someone a yapping dog an insult in this city?"

  "Yes, it is," Simla said, and there seemed to be a certain amount of amused respect now in her voice.

  "Then Corrianne insulted my companion Jiri, with that and with most of the rest of her fighting words."

  "This woman is—" Corrianne started, but was cut off by a thunderous boom as the Voice raised his staff and knocked it against the rafters.

  "Speak out of turn again, woman, and that stick won't be knocking against wood," Simla said. Her eyes turned to Jiri.

  Jiri, who had been beginning to feel better as each of her companions spoke, felt those sharp old eyes on her, and behind them the crushing weight of everyone else in the hall.

  "Jiri Maju. What do you say?"

  Say? Jiri stood, trying to breathe, and was desperately afraid that the answer would be nothing. She clenched her hands and felt the moment stretching, time pouring past as she stood motionless, silent. I was ready to stand and shout earlier. I had to promise Kalun not to speak. Speak!

  "Jiri?" Kalun whispered, and Linaria touched her shoulder, her hand for once not cold as ice.

  Jiri forced her eyes up, staring away from the crowd. Into the shadows that lay beyond the colored lamps and the rafters, into the dark that gathered beneath the heavy thatch of the hall's roof. Were the ancestors' eyes on her too, staring down at her, waiting? Her hands were starting to shake, no matter how tight she made her fists.

  "Jiri Maju. Will you answer me?"

  Angry or patient, Jiri had no idea what emotion ran behind Simla's words. Too busy trying to make her tongue move, to make breath leave her lungs, to make the room stop shifting, she stared up and prayed. Ancestors, help me.

  Jiri tore her eyes away from the shadows and tried to face Simla. But that old woman's eyes were on her, waiting, and she had to look away. Kalun and Linaria, they were no help either, concerned, expectant. Her gaze jumped, and there was Patima, serene, and Corrianne beside her, a vicious little smile on her face.

  She smiles like a mamba, but I bet the snake is friendlier.

  The thought rolled through Jiri's head, but it didn't feel like hers.

  It seemed more like something Hadzi would say.

  "Well," Simla said. "If you—"

  "They stole something, I don't know what, from the place outside our village, where the ancestors told us not to go, and something was released, some spirit of fire that destroyed Thirty Trees, and it's loose somewhere out there and I think it's not done, I think as long as they have what they stole it might burn again."

  The words came out fast, a solid line of sound that Jiri shoved out, and then her lungs were empty and she was trying to breathe and everyone was still staring at her. In her head, though, Hadzi was laughing, laughing like the time she had tried to roll over to kiss him and had flipped herself out of his hammock. That laughter, fading away in her head, made her straighten, open her hands and hold up her head, even as she kept her eyes down.

  "So," Simla said. "That is what happened to Thirty Trees."

  Jiri, not wanting to try to speak again, nodded.

  "That is not what happened," Amiro snapped. "And it—"

  "Doesn't matter," Simla said, breaking in. "Whatever happened there, it is beyond our bounds. Our marketplace is well within our bounds, though.
" The old woman considered them all, then leaned back. "We've wasted enough time with this. The woman Patima was not harmed, nor did she feel threatened. One tapestry was damaged and paid for. This is a minor matter. But. We cannot allow this sort of thing to disrupt trade. Tirakici Kalun, I order you to compensate the city of Kibwe a ten weight of gold for the actions of your guest. See to it that she knows that Kibwe is an orderly city, and her temper must be held in check."

  "Yes, Councilwoman," Kalun said.

  "As for you, Amiro." Simla frowned at the Aspis man. "I want the same from you, in compensation to the city for the provocative words of your guest. Order requires good manners, and the council has no use for those who would try to hide daggers behind sweet words. Done."

  Jiri blinked, unsure, but Linaria was pulling on her arm and Kalun had turned and was ushering them down the aisle. Behind them, the Voice was booming out the name of the next citizen of Kibwe, and suddenly Jiri realized that it was over. Her feet began to move, and soon Linaria's hold on her arm had shifted from a gentle tug to get her moving to a white-knuckled grip to keep her from bolting out of the crowded hall.

  In the dim outside, beneath the spread of stars, Jiri breathed and felt the paralyzing fear of the crowd going away.

  "Well, that could have been better, but it could have been much, much worse," Kalun said.

  "Could have been better?" With the last of her fear fraying away, Jiri's anger was crowding back in, running its heat through her. "They'll do nothing about that thing that Patima released! They wouldn't even discuss it!"

  "But you managed to slip it in," Kalun said. "Very nicely. Were you really that terrified?"

  "I..." Jiri didn't want to admit it, but what was the point of denying it? They were standing right next to her when it had happened. "I've never had so many people staring at me."

  "Sure you have," said Morvius. "There were more staring at you in the market today."

  "They weren't expecting me to speak."

  "True," he said. "They were expecting you to catch Corrianne's hair on fire. And if that had only cost us ten coins, it would have been well worth it."

  "Enough. You all did well, now go back to my inn before you stir some new trouble. Sera, your drinks are free tonight, with my thanks." Kalun adjusted his clothes and looked around. The open circle around the Governing Council's hall was lined with stands selling coffee, tea, and other drinks. Many people sat drinking and talking, staring at the council hall. "Now I need to go back to work. The rumors of this will spread, and I need to see that the proper weight is put on the proper words. Especially those that you said, shaman." He clapped Jiri on the shoulder and started toward one of the coffee vendors. "Next time, though, try to speak a little more slowly."

  Next time. Jiri thought of all those eyes, gleaming in the colored lights, and shuddered. I'd rather face another of Patima's demons.

  "Well," Morvius said. "Shall we? Sera?" He gave a little bow and gestured for the woman to precede him. She frowned at him and stayed still.

  "Just because Kalun is giving her free drinks, I don't think that means she's buying for you, Morvius," Linaria said.

  "Well," Morvius said again, but he paused when a girl came scampering up to them. When she drew close enough, Jiri recognized Kalun's daughter, Fara.

  "I have news for Father!" the girl gasped. "Where is he?"

  "There," Linaria said, but she snagged the girl's hand before she could start moving again. "What news?"

  "A caravan was attacked at the first camp of the Ndele Gap Trail," Fara said. "They say whoever did it killed everyone and burned the whole thing to ash!"

  Chapter Nine

  Two Burnings

  How far is it from the city?" Jiri asked. They were walking fast toward the Red Spear, and around them she could hear the people chattering in the street, could see the children racing through the dark bearing messages. "And where?"

  "To the northeast," Linaria said. "And it's only a few hours' walk. It's closer to the city than it really should be, but it's the only dry place in the swamp that's over there."

  "White Crocodile Wallow," Jiri said. That swamp stretched to the north and east of where Thirty Trees had once stood. Its edges stretched around the Pyre. "If it's only a few hours' walk, we can be there by moonrise if we move fast."

  "We?" Morvius said. "We are moving fast. To the inn, and a drink, and a good night's sleep in a good bed. Which is what we do when we're waiting to line up our next job." Morvius stopped in the circle of light cast by a group of lanterns that hung from a granite column. Onits top, the soapstone statue of a leopard-headed warrior seemed to snarl down at him in the flickering light, but the northern man paid no attention to its stone hostility. "You're not so bad, runt, when you're not all weepy, but you assume too much. We helped you before because we were hired to, but that contract is done. You want to run off into the jungle in the dark so that you can stare at a bunch of charred camels, feel free. Enjoy the mosquitoes and the vampire bats and all the other things out there that think they have a better use for your blood than you. We're staying here."

  Jiri bounced where she stood, her body flush with adrenaline, impatient to move. "You'll just sit here and let that thing stalk around out there, killing people?"

  "Until I'm paid to do something about it, yes." Morvius folded his arms, looking down at her. "Gods, girl, you're looking at me like I'm Corrianne, but I'm just telling you the truth. Adventurers are a kind of mercenary. We get paid to do this kind of thing, and since you gave your only bag of coin to that guard in the market today, I don't think you can afford our rates. You'll probably be hauling drinks for Kalun for months just to pay him back for that fine the council gave him."

  Jiri looked over to Linaria. The half-elf was staring at Morvius, her strange blue eyes hard to read. "Kalun is paying us to watch her."

  "Here in the city," Morvius said. "Not out there."

  "We can talk to him," Linaria said. "New terms can be negotiated."

  And how long will that take? "Forget it, don't bother," Jiri said. "I'll just do it myself." With that she started walking again, toward the crimson spear that rose a little way ahead, and the stone building that sprawled below it. It's not like I need them. They'd just slow me down in the jungle. It was the truth, but these people...Whatever else, they were strong.

  I'm strong, too. Oza taught me to be.

  Good words, but that swamp demon would have destroyed her, alone, and this thing was bigger than that demon.

  I'll do what I can. I have to.

  "Is this just about coin? I have that."

  Sera's voice stopped Jiri and made her look back.

  "I thought you sent all your coin to your church," Morvius said.

  "When I have a reliable way to send my tithes on, I do," Sera said. "It's been a while since that's happened. I'm sure I have enough to pay you for a few days."

  "To do what?" Morvius asked.

  "To help me find the thing that destroyed this girl's village."

  Jiri walked slowly back, pulling herself up a little taller as she did. I think I've heard myself referred to as ‘girl' quite often enough these last few days.

  "You don't know that this is the same thing," Morvius said. "We just heard a rumor passed along by an eleven-year-old. Maybe something else happened to this caravan. Maybe it was fire-happy bandits, or a dragon, or a cooking accident."

  "Maybe," said Sera. "We can find that out by looking."

  "You really want this thing," Jiri said.

  The paladin turned toward her. "I told you I did, and that I would use you to find it. Do you still want to find it?"

  By every spirit, yes. But...A moment before, Jiri had been wishing for their strength. Having Sera around, though, paying for things...She would think she was in charge.

  And that's the cost I'll have to pay.

  "I do," Jiri said, and started again toward the Red Spear.

  The others followed, Linaria and Sera dickering over terms, Morvius trail
ing behind, muttering something about the gods and their anatomy.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  Jiri was ready first, of course.

  Off with the borrowed wrap dress, on with her new clothes. She scooped up the bag with her few supplies, grabbed her spear, and then rushed to the common room where she anxiously waited near the front door while the inn's mostly foreign customers chattered to each other in a dozen languages and glanced at her curiously with their strangely colored eyes. Finally, Morvius stomped in wearing his battered armor, the spear Scritch gleaming like fresh blood in his hands and a pack slung over his back.

  "Where's your gear?" he asked, looking her over.

  Jiri tapped her bag and touched the spear that leaned against the wall behind her.

  "I liked the way you told off Sera this afternoon," Morvius said. "But you do realize that armor is more effective when you wear it, not carry it in a sack."

  "I'll put it on if I need it."

  "You seem to think that you'll be informed of when you'll need it." Morvius set down his pack and leaned Scritch against the wall. "That's not how it works. What's this?"

  "My spear," Jiri said.

  "That's not a spear." Morvius stared at her weapon with contempt. "That's a stick with a spoon tied to it. Watch my pack, and if someone tries to touch Scritch, bite them. Your teeth will do more damage than your spear." The tall man turned and walked back toward the room he shared with Linaria, passing the half-elf and Sera as he went.

  "What's he doing?" Linaria asked. She had wrapped her hair into a thick braid and changed into tunic and leggings, light for the heat but durable enough to resist thorns.

  "I don't know. Criticizing my things, mostly."