Firesoul Page 17

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  "What in seven hells is going on?" Morvius said, staring at Kibwe.

  They had stopped where the narrow trail opened onto the wide plain that circled Kibwe, a clearing burned regularly to keep the jungle at bay. From here they could see the city's high walls, a black bulk against the night. Light spilled over them, and through the gate that stood open ahead. Open, but crowded with guards.

  "Another attack," Jiri said. A caravan? A village? She could see it, a charred black circle in the jungle, empty except for the ash drifting in the moonlight...

  "We'll find out," Sera said, and walked into the open.

  The moon shone down bright, and they were spotted fast. Before they were halfway across the clearing the guards had broken out of their loose huddles of talk and arranged themselves to meet them, a few in front with spears, the rest behind them holding short bows, throwing spears, slings, and blowguns. The weapons weren't pointed at them, but their threat was clear.

  "Who approaches the walls of great Kibwe?" the guard in the lead called out when Sera reached the edge of the city's light.

  "I am Sera Galonnica, servant of Iomedae, goddess of truth, protector of justice."

  "A brave, bright goddess," the guard said. "So why is her servant slinking around in the dark?" He was a young man, heavy with muscle, and acted as if he were staring down at Sera even though they were close to the same height.

  Jiri didn't have to look at Sera to know that the paladin was doing her best to look down at him.

  "I am not slinking. I—"

  "Why do you think we're out in the dark, Taba?"

  Morvius's question trampled Sera's answer, but he ignored her glare and stepped forward. "The bloody sun went down. Now can we go in? I haven't had a drink in days and my boots smell like crocodile piss."

  "Morvius." The man's arrogance had turned into something more complicated. "Every time I hear you've left, I expect to never see you again."

  "Well, the gods crap on everyone's dreams, don't they?"

  Taba stared at Morvius, brown eyes unreadable; then he laughed and slapped him on the arm.

  "Come on. I'll give you a drink before I turn you loose on the city." His voice went low, and Jiri barely heard the rest of his words. "You need to hear what's going on before you go in there."

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  "How do they know each other?" Jiri sat on a short bench in the guard house that stood on the other side of the gate, sipping at a cup of watered palm wine. Linaria sat beside her, watching Morvius show off Scritch to Taba, a large cup of unwatered wine in his hand.

  "They got into a fight once, over a woman." Linaria shifted on the bench beside her, edging a little farther away from the granite wall beside them. The guard house was built directly against the great granite blocks of Kibwe's wall, and Jiri could feel them too, all the charms that flowed through that stone, bound by the symbols carved deep into those blocks. It hadn't been that long since they had both felt charms just like those being pulled apart, their magic breaking loose and blowing across them like sparks.

  Jiri edged over a little too, and they were pressed tight together at one end of the bench, but she didn't care and Linaria seemed to welcome the contact, a buffer against the magic's touch.

  "They seem to get along now," Sera said. The paladin hadn't sat down, hadn't taken the drink offered her, only stood, looking vaguely annoyed in her perfect armor and tabard. In the lantern light, Jiri could see a smudge of dirt on her pale nose, and for the first time in a long while she had to fight not to smile.

  "The woman got disgusted and left with another man while they were fighting. So they went home with each other," Linaria said. The sorcerer noticed Jiri watching her and shrugged. "I've never cared how many other lovers he has, or even tried to keep track. I've just told him that he better be ready whenever I am. He seems to take that as a challenge." Linaria smoothed back her hair. "Sometimes, I make it one."

  This time, Jiri did smile. But Taba had stopped admiring Morvius's weapon, and his words grabbed at her.

  "There have been at least two more burnings, maybe three." Taba had poured himself a drink of wine, too, unwatered but only a small splash. He drank it down in one gulp. "Last night, Zawao village went. No one saw anything, but some traders were passing through there on the way to here. They said there was nothing, not a person, not a basket, not a goat. Just a circle of ash. No one saw what happened, and that place is a half-day's walk from these gates. The marketplace was buzzing with that all day, along with talk of the caravan and Pakala and Thirty Trees." Taba's eyes went to the bench, touched Jiri and then went away. "A lot of talk about curses, and bad-luck magic."

  "What about biloko?"

  Taba's attention snapped back to Morvius. "What about them?"

  "There were biloko at Pakala."

  "So we've heard," Taba said. "Some of the survivors showed up in the city, asking for help. They were followed by another group, from Green Spring. Their village had been hit by a band of biloko this afternoon. Luckily for them, they had hunters out. They saw the biloko coming and fought them off, but half the villageburned, and they spoke of many dead and missing."

  "That's two," Jiri said. She pushed the words out through a throat tight with nerves, but she had to know everything she could. "You said three. Maybe."

  "There were some hunters. When everyone started talking about the burnings, they said they had seen something like that. In the jungle they found a charau-ka, dead, covered in burns. They tracked it backward and found a circle of ash, a burned place in the jungle. This was before the caravan was lost."

  It did attack, then, that night I lay useless with grief. Jiri didn't mourn the charau-ka. When she was six, one of her playmates had vanished from the edge of Thirty Trees, swallowed by the jungle. Oza had gone hunting and returned with the hands of the boy's killers, long-fingered like an ape's, but clawed. One of them still clutched a stone dagger. Oza wouldn't tell Jiri what had happened to her friend, not until she was sixteen.

  She'd had nightmares for weeks.

  Jiri didn't care that the charau-ka had died, but she cared deeply about how they died. This thing. This thing I don't even have a name for. It kills humans and charau-ka. After Thirty Trees, it's only attacked at night. It burns a circle of destruction, killing everything in it, and then vanishes. What is it? What does it want?

  How do we stop it?

  "So what's being done?"

  Sera's words broke Jiri's thoughts.

  "By who?" Taba said. "The villages are setting up guards or running here to hide behind the walls, depending on how brave they're feeling. The traders are staying in place, complaining to the council and bidding with each other over guards. The council..."

  "The council doesn't care what happens beyond these walls," Jiri said softly.

  "That's a convenient thing for them to say, when the trade is flowing," Taba said. "But when something slows or stops that trade, then even their eyes might turn beyond the circle of these walls." The guardsman took the jug of palm wine and poured himself another, much more generous than his first. "I've been hearing tales lately, of what happened at the last council meeting. A girl came there, claiming to be a shaman, saying that some people from the Aspis Consortium had released a fire demon on her village."

  "What do you think of that story?" Linaria asked.

  "It's one of many. There's another going around that the girl is a demon herself, bought by Kalun to curse his enemies."

  "Really?" said Linaria.

  "Yeah." Taba said. "That's not one I believe. All the ones telling it seem to have northern silver in their palms. The kind the Consortium pays out. But I'm not everyone." Taba raised his cup and drank deep. "I'm just a poor, unappreciated sergeant of the guard."

  Morvius tapped his fingers on his belt, next to the pouch that held his coin. "And if you weren't so unappreciated?"

  "I might tell my friends that the council may be about to order the guard to round up all the
foreign rabble that's accumulated behind these walls lately. So that they can be sent out into the jungle, and not let back in without a bag of biloko heads."

  "Your friends might appreciate that." Morvius's hand dipped into his pouch and came back down on the table with a solid click. "Well. Looks like we might want to get back to the Red Spear. We wouldn't want to be forced out into the jungle again before we've even had a drink." Morvius looked down at his empty cup. "Or another drink."

  "That sounds smart," Taba said, fingers reaching out to cover Morvius'. He gripped the taller man's hand for a moment, and leaned toward him, whispering something in his ear. Then he pulled back, and his hand went to the beaded pouch that hung from his belt, dropping something in it with a soft clink. "May all your good-luck ancestors be watching."

  "I think they already are," Morvius said, slapping the man on the back and heading toward the door.

  Jiri followed Linaria and Morvius out into the night, Sera not far behind.

  "Do you really think the council will issue that order?" Sera asked.

  "They already did," Morvius said, long legs stretching as he walked fast. "Taba told me that a messenger brought it to him a few minutes before we showed up. He hadn't told anyone else about it yet, though. Lucky us."

  "Lucky that he liked you enough to let us go," Linaria said.

  "That's not luck," Morvius said. "That's a little coin, and being the best damned lover in this city."

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  The carved stools in Kalun's talking room were more comfortable than the guards' benches, and the Red Spear was cool. But the old innkeeper wasn't offering them palm wine tonight.

  "You didn't even think to send me a message about where you were going? What you were doing?" Kalun sat on his bench, his frown carving deep lines in his face. "You just take off without telling me anything?"

  "We told Fara," Morvius said. "And Basan."

  "You told a child and a drunk that you were going to check a burned-out caravan. Then you were gone for a day and a half." Kalun's frown lines got deeper. "What were you doing out there?"

  "Working for her," Morvius said, pointing to Sera. "Apparently. Though she hasn't come across with any coin yet, I've noticed."

  "Working for—" Kalun cut off, turning his glare on Linaria. "I can't talk to him. You. Tell me what happened."

  "Well," Linaria said carefully. "We have a contract with Sera. Any information we found would—"

  "Oh, so you are working for her now? Not me?" Kalun leaned back. "Fara!" he snapped, and the girl appeared so quickly that she must have been lurking in the hall. "Go find some guards. I have some of those foreigners that they're looking for and—"

  "Kalun," Linaria said. "Now listen—"

  "Stop!" Jiri almost shouted. "What are you doing now? Arguing? Dickering?" The words snapped out of her, and she found herself standing, heat blazing through her. "Is that all you people do? I came here asking for help for my teacher, and you bargained while a demon picked its teeth with his bones. When I confront his killers, the people who let loose that thing that destroyed my village, I get told how wrong I am because now there are fines to be paid. When we hear about the caravan, about fire and death falling from the sky and destroying it, just like Thirty Trees, we can't go out and try to help until coin is passed. Now this?"

  Jiri glared at them all, her fury making the room hot. "That thing is out there, burning men, women, and children alive and leaving nothing but ash. We know so little else, but we know that. And what are you doing? Sitting in here bargaining like fruit merchants, trying to decide how much coin it will take before you lift your fingers to help save them."

  "Jiri," Linaria started, her voice tired and angry at the same time. "We—"

  "No, Linaria." Morvius stretched his long legs out and leaned back, staring at Jiri. "Let her talk. I want to hear how selfish we are, for killing her demon. For keeping Corrianne from slapping her down like a bug in the market. For keeping the council from kicking her out of this city. For killing those biloko before they swallowed her down. For pulling her alive out of that cursed ruin." He leaned forward, smiling without a bit of humor. "Don't pretend to be noble and good, runt. You don't do half as good a job at it as Sera, and your real motivation is even more obvious. She wants her glory, even more than we want our coin. And you? You want blood." His smile faded. "And you won't get it without our help. Which costs."

  Jiri picked her bag up from the floor, and there was a sound, a faint hiss as the cloth singed beneath her fingers. Her hands were clumsy with anger, and the leather thong that held the bag shut resisted her until it finally broke, half burned through.

  "What about this?" Jiri pulled the diamond out of her bag, the one that Sera had cut out of her back, and threw it at Morvius. The man caught it, then dropped it with a curse. Jiri watched him wet his fingers and pick it up, blowing on it. Her hands were making her bag smoke, and she slung it over her shoulder before the smoke became fire. "Is that enough?"

  "This and Sera's coin will get you a few more days." Morvius rolled the gem in his palm. He looked up at her, and this time his smile did hold humor, of a dark, evil sort. "So you better figure out how to find that thing, or you might never get a chance to save your villagers. Or to burn Patima down, just like that thing did to your Thirty Trees."

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  "I'm sorry," Fara said. The girl led Jiri around one last tight turn of stairs and into a hall at the top of the Red Spear. "Mama said— Well, she thought it might be better to give you one of the smaller rooms."

  "I don't care, Fara," Jiri said. She felt exhausted. So much had happened these last few days, and then that argument downstairs. When she had let go of her anger, she had nothing left. It had been easy enough to leave, to let Linaria and Sera explain what had happened to Kalun while Morvius made his snide comments.

  Let them waste their time with talk. Jiri's hands clutched her bag close. I'll try to keep this hunt alive.

  "Here." Fara opened a narrow door at the end of the long hall. Beyond it was a tiny closet of a room, bare but for a stool, a candle, and a sleeping mat. One small bundle sat on the stool—the rest of Jiri's clothes from the market.

  "Do you want me to bring you things for washing up?" Fara asked.

  "No," Jiri said. "Maybe in the morning."

  "All right," the girl said. She fidgeted with the wrap of her dress. "He's not a bad man," she said in a sudden rush. "Morvius. He tells stories that make us laugh and make Mama mad. And he gets us treats from the market. And Linaria, she's always nice. She makes ice for us, sometimes, when it's hot."

  "Sweets and ice." Jiri thought of a monster, crouched stinking in the water before the Pyre, roaring as a bolt of white struck it and slicked its slimy hide with ice. Morvius was right. Without them, that demon would have crunched my bones, too, and no one would know what Patima has done. "What about Sera?"

  "She's too picky about how well we clean her room," Fara said. "But she kills spiders if you ask, no matter how big."

  "I'll keep that in mind," Jiri said. "Goodnight, Fara."

  "Ancestors watch your dreams," the child responded.

  "And yours." Jiri left the door open, letting in the thin light of the single lantern in the hall. When Fara's footsteps had gone, she could hear almost nothing but the sounds of the city outside and the distant racket of Kalun's guests downstairs. Strange noises, compared to the jungle, but soft.

  Kalun's wife might think she's slighting me, putting me up here. But this is a better place.

  With a whisper, Jiri gathered a handful of light from the air and rolled it into a little ball. She put it on the dead wick of her candle and shut her door. Staring at it, Jiri realized that the little wooden thing on the back of the door was a latch, a way to keep people out. She slid it into place, then rolled out the sleeping mat and settled on it.

  Then she opened her bag.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Lost Things

  Nestled in the bag, the kindi sta
red up at her with brown agate eyes. Its face was small but exquisitely detailed. Not stylized, but realistic, so realistic that Jiri almost expected the little lips to curl up into a smile.

  A smile. Jiri could picture it, a cocky little smile that would make this face so handsome. Make it look just like—

  Hadzi. It looks like Hadzi. Jiri picked up the carving. The ebony wood was warm to the touch, but not hot. The iron spear, free from rust despite the passage of centuries, didn't burn her when she ran her thumb lightly over it.

  She didn't touch the face.

  It wasn't exact. The nose wasn't quite right, and there were lines lightly carved in the wood. This was an image of an older man. But it was close.

  Our ancestors made this. Long ago. When they made the walls of Kibwe, when they made many things.

  Many dangerous things.

  Who are you? What do you know? What can you tell me? Jiri felt the questions crowding around her. What was this carving doing in the heart of the Pyre? Did that mean something? Was it related somehow to the kindi that Patima had stolen from that terrible place?

  "Or were you just lost?" Jiri whispered. She tilted the carving, watching the sharp edge of the spear sparkle in the light. Oza had warned her about the kindi. But he told me how to use them, too. Why would he do that, if he hadn't suspected that some still existed? If he hadn't expected that, someday, Jiri might have to use one?

  Before she could think more about it, Jiri pressed her thumb down on the sharp point of the kindi's spear. The pain was instant, a small sting, and she raised her hand. Her blood tipped the spear now, and a fat drop of red sat on the pad of her thumb. Jiri took a deep breath and brushed her fingers across the necklace that hung so heavy around her neck.

  Watch over me, Oza. If you can.

  She pressed her bloody thumb to the carved lips of the kindi.

  "Speak, and I will listen," she said, and darkness rushed in, boiling over everything like smoke, and took the world away.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  The stars were bright.

  They hung over Jiri, brilliant white dancers turning in the sky. Jiri blinked at them, then let her gaze fall.