Firesoul Page 8

  "She's getting away," Jiri shouted, uncaring that the Aspis guards had hefted their clubs and were watching her, that Morvius had moved up beside Linaria, that Corrianne was smirking. The bearer kids were scattering, and the crowd was pulling back, the merchants hastily gathering in their wares and the girls dressed for dancing fleeing in a swirl of flashing cloth. None of that mattered. Jiri's vision had narrowed down to Patima's back, disappearing into the panicked crowd.

  "She's walking away, and you're going to let her." Linaria jerked her arm, using her height to pull Jiri to face her. Cold crackled around her, burning like white fire, swallowing the flames that flashed up Jiri's arm. "This isn't the place for this, Jiri. Pull yourself together, or I swear I'll have Morvius knock you out."

  Jiri stared at the half-elf, and the fire in her raged. It wanted to lash out, to burn Patima, Corrianne, anyone that stood between her and the vengeance she desperately wanted. But Linaria's cold was draining that dangerous heat, and in her words Jiri could hear an echo of Oza, teaching her control.

  Jiri pulled her arm from Linaria's grip. She spun, turning her back on Corrianne. On Patima. Staring at the great tapestry that separated the market and the Adayenki, she forced her anger down, out, until the fire in her had sunk to coals, burning deep.

  "That's it, Jiri." Linaria's voice was steady, calming. "That's it."

  "Yeah, that's great," Morvius said. "But maybe we should do something about that tapestry. It's kind of on fire."

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  The dancers were made of shining threads of black and gold and red, but their colors were dull beneath the heavy layer of white frost that covered them. Jiri stared at the stuff, like diamonds uncountable, covering the dancers and the charred spots that her anger had burned into the cloth, and she shook. From cold or anger or fear of what she had done, she didn't know.

  Probably all of them.

  "I think you got it, Linaria." Morvius ran his broad hand over the huge tapestry, one of the many that made up the Adayenki's border, the frost on it already steaming away in the sun. He stopped over the biggest burned patch, holding his hand there. "Cold as Baba Yaga's left—"

  "We should go." Linaria shook her hands, scattering the droplets of water that had condensed on her fingers after she had fanned them out and poured her cold magic across the spreading flames.

  "What makes you think that?" Morvius said, scooping up his book.

  The drums were still beating on the other side of the tapestry, the Orchid Dance still going on in the Adayenki. Jiri's fires had gone unnoticed in the Pavilion, thanks to Linaria. Out here, though, a crowd arced in front of them, staring, pointing and talking. Jiri clenched her hands and ducked her head, shame filling her. What would Oza say?

  Nothing. He'll say nothing because Patima's demon tore him apart, laughing.

  Jiri pushed her fists against the dirt, shoved herself up and stood.

  I will keep control. But I will keep my anger.

  The crowd rippled when she rose, and Jiri felt a thread of fear growing in her as the chatter grew louder.

  "Doesn't this remind you of that day in Merab?" Morvius asked.

  "Yes," Linaria said, much less cheerfully. "Do you think we should start running now?"

  "Nope, too late. Here comes the guard."

  Jiri, not nearly as tall and trying not to look at the crowd, couldn't see them. She could hear them though, the "sa-sa-sa" that the Kibwe guard called out to clear their path, a call taken from the goat herders who drove their animals through the city. Soon they spilled through the throng, a group of big men with long clubs, short loops of rope hanging from their belts. A woman led them, older and shorter, her only weapon a little blowpipe that rested on her hip. Jiri knew that most of those darts were tipped with a poison that could drop a person into a sleep that would last hours, maybe days.

  The poison on the other darts could kill a person in the time it took them to take three steps.

  The woman stopped, the men flanking her, and her sharp eyes took in Jiri, her pale companions, and the charred tapestry.

  "What passes here?" she asked, her voice flat and unhappy.

  "Well," Morvius drawled, but before he could continue another voice cut through the low mutter of the watching crowd.

  "Oh, guardswoman! I can help." From the edge of the crowd, Corrianne stepped out. One of her toughs still stood beside her, his frown and the grip on his club keeping a small zone of clear space around him and the northern mage. "I saw everything."

  "Good gods' balls," Morvius muttered. "Of course she stuck around."

  "Of course," Linaria breathed from Jiri's other side.

  "How worse would it make things if we had our runt here catch her on fire?" Morvius said, his voice still low.

  "Much," Linaria said. She touched Jiri's arm. "She'll try to bait you. Don't rise to it."

  "—were just doing some shopping when these people accosted us." Corrianne had pitched her voice a little higher and had widened her eyes, making herself seem younger, frightened. "I know the northerners. They're raiders, and the man is notorious for making advances on anything that moves. They spoke to us, crude and insulting, but we ignored them and tried to move on. That's when the girl used magic to attack us. She pulled fire from the air and threw it at my companion. Then she began to throw it everywhere, endangering everyone around. Truly, it was a miracle that no one was killed, that the marketplace didn't burn."

  "I see." The guard leader looked at Corrianne with the same expression as someone examining her feet after walking through a camel pen. Then she turned to Jiri and her companions. "Is that what happened?"

  "No," said a new voice.

  Morvius was just opening his mouth when that word cut him off. Jiri looked past him and saw Sera, whom she had forgotten about the moment Patima and Corrianne had appeared, stepping forward.

  "I am Sera Galonnica, servant of Iomedae, goddess of truth, protector of justice. I can bear witness to what happened here."

  "Oh. Well, great." The guard leader shifted her weight back. "Bear away, then."

  Sera frowned at the woman, then shifted her eyes to Corrianne. "That woman and her companions are responsible for murder, attempted murder, summoning a demon, stealing an artifact, and releasing an ancient evil that destroyed my companion Jiri's village."

  "All that, eh?" the guardswoman asked. "So you tried to catch her on fire?"

  "No," Sera said. "My companion struck out at the other woman who was here. She did so because she was taunted by this poisonous brat."

  "Poisonous brat?" Corrianne's mask of frightened innocence vanished, her snarling petulance breaking through it like a crocodile surging out of muddy water. "Listen here, you self-righteous b—"

  "Let's stop that right now," the guardswoman snapped. She looked over at Corrianne. "Your companion. Was she burned?"

  Corrianne glowered at the woman, considering, then shook her head.

  "So no one was hurt, and nothing was harmed but this tapestry." The woman looked around, waiting for someone to object. When no one did, she turned back to Jiri. "Then the only thing that concerns me here is that burnt cloth. Which belongs to Kibwe. Do you have any coin?"

  "I do," Jiri said, and handed over the purse that Kalun had given her. Beside her Morvius twitched, but he didn't stop her. The guardswoman took the purse and stared into it, then flashed her a quick smile.

  "This will do fine," she said.

  "More than fine," Morvius muttered.

  The woman ignored him. "I want you to move along now, and no more trouble." She looked from them to Corrianne and back. "You people need to keep your quarrels outside my walls, understand?"

  "But what of justice?" Corrianne had pulled the tatters of her feigned innocence back around her. "That woman is dangerous." The mage leaned forward and spoke in a voice that seemed like a whisper but was meant to carry. "I heard her whole village burned. That everyone in it died. I think you should arrest her, or cast her out of this city." Corrianne bl
inked, trying to look helpless. "I fear for my safety with her here."

  I heard her whole village burned. Jiri's anger roared up from its coals. How long before that rumor spread about her? How long before everyone in Kibwe thought she was as cursed as the people she had grown up with? She felt the heat building in her moving toward her hand, but then she shook, cold rolling over her like a blanket.

  "You should fear for your safety as long as there's anyone in this city with a sense of decency and the ability to throw a rock." Linaria eased her grip on Jiri as she spoke, and her magic stopped chilling the air around her. "There won't be any more problems, ma'am. I assure you."

  "And I assure you that there will be," Corrianne said. "From her, or from me if you don't take care of her. I belong to the Aspis Consortium, you understand? The richest, most powerful trade group in the world?"

  The guardswoman sighed. "Yes. And I know that these people work for Kalun, of the Tirakici. Which means I'm staying out of this. You want anything more, the Governing Council meets tonight. Bring your issues to them."

  Corrianne smiled, small and vicious. "I think I will."

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  "I lost control of my magic." Jiri spoke slowly, balanced so carefully over the swirling storm of her emotions. "I'm sorry for that. But I don't regret it." She looked up from the glass that Kalun had handed her, full of something that burned down her throat worse than palm wine. "What else should I have done? Just let her walk away?"

  "Yes," Kalun said. He had already drained his glass, and held the bottle of amber liquid as if considering another. "That is exactly what I think you should have done."

  "Of course you would." Kalun's talking room was cool and quiet, but it seemed to Jiri that she could still feel the hard-packed dirt of the marketplace beneath her feet, could still feel the heat of the sun, and hear Patima's words. No. I don't. "That woman and her people killed Oza and destroyed my village, and you've done exactly that. Let her walk away, untouched." Jiri felt the glass growing warm in her hand, caught the scent of the drink as it began to scald and steam, and she reined in her anger. "My grief has kept me useless these past two days, but what's your excuse? Your fear?"

  Kalun set the bottle down hard. "Good. Sense. Which you seem to be sorely lacking. Why did Oza decide to teach you? Did he lose a bet?"

  "Oh, come on, Kalun. Runt's had a bad week." Morvius reached for the bottle Kalun had just set down and splashed his glass half full.

  "And when did you start liking her?" Kalun growled.

  "When she started lighting things on fire." Morvius took a swallow of his drink and smiled. "I can't stand grief and tears. That crap is boring as hell. But anger and revenge, that's interesting. Our little firebug may have been stupid this afternoon, but she was fun."

  On the bench beside him, Linaria sighed, then tipped back her glass, draining it in one neat swallow.

  "Stupid," Jiri said. "That's what you all think." Though Sera hasn't said a word since we left the market. Jiri flicked a glance back at the paladin, who sat silently on her stool behind Jiri, her drink untouched. She just stares at me, like a crocodile waiting in the water for the bushbucks. "I did something, though."

  "What? Burned a tapestry?" Kalun shook his head. "Or do you mean wasting my coin? Or letting that poisoned-tongued magician start rumors about you?"

  "I meant the meeting tonight," Jiri said. "I can tell my story to the council. Let them know what these Aspis people have done. This Corrianne, she thinks she's setting a trap for us, but really she's walking into one. When the council hears what's happened, won't they help us? Can't they force Patima to give up what she stole, and make them pay for what they did to Thirty Trees?"

  Kalun looked at her for a long time. "Oh, jungle girl," he finally said. "You really think that might happen, don't you?"

  "What?" Jiri demanded. "Why shouldn't I?"

  "Jiri," Linaria started, then hesitated.

  Morvius didn't. "Because it's stupid. But you're too backwoods to know that this isn't even about you."

  "What do you mean?" Jiri looked to Kalun, but it was Morvius who kept talking.

  "Corrianne may have picked this fight with you, but tonight it's going to be all about him," Morvius said, pointing at Kalun. "Our cheerful host is one of the Consortium's chief competitors in Kibwe. At least in terms of recovering some of the very valuable things that have been misplaced in this green hell over the centuries. You, girl, are just a convenient way for Amiro to try to score some points against Kalun."

  Jiri looked from Morvius to Kalun, who nodded, and Jiri's hands clenched the edge of her bench. "The council. Its members. They're all from Kibwe, from the Expanse. Won't they care—"

  "The Governing Council of Kibwe only cares about two things. That there is order in the city, and that the money flows." Morvius leaned back on his bench, almost tipping Linaria off it. "They're fine with us raiders, as you call us. We bring treasure to this city that they can tax. How we got it? They don't ask. What happens in the jungle, stays in the jungle. Usually under a pile of scavengers."

  "But Thirty Trees—"

  "Was a Mosa village," Kalun said. "And there's only a handful of people from the Mosa tribe that live in Kibwe, and none of them are on the council. There are, however, traders who deal with Aspis agents regularly, and there are quite a few tribal leaders who have received fine gifts from the Consortium. I have my own wealth, and I am of the Tirakici, the largest tribe in this city, but I don't know if that balances out the favors that the Consortium has bought itself."

  "Especially when it seems that half your tribe would be happy to tear you down to take your place," Linaria said.

  "There's that, too." Kalun ran a hand through his short dreads and stood. "Enough. There are many people I need to talk to before this meeting. Linaria, please make sure that everyone here is there. Morvius, stay sober or drink yourself into a stupor, whichever keeps you quieter. Sera..." Kalun eyed the paladin. "You mean to be there, don't you?"

  "I do," Sera said.

  "Of course you do." Kalun shook his head and turned toward Jiri. "And you. I probably won't have much of a chance to talk to you until after this is done. Forget what I said earlier. I know Oza, and he wouldn't choose a fool for a student. So don't let your grief or your anger take hold of you tonight. Follow Linaria's lead, and by every one of your ancestors, don't light anyone or anything on fire."

  With that Kalun stalked out the door, leaving Jiri staring after him.

  He wouldn't choose a fool for a student. Would he? What had Jiri done, the past few days, but be a fool? Losing herself in grief, and then in anger. When is the last time I walked in the spirit world? What spirits can I call on for magic, besides fire? Jiri felt her face heat, not with anger but with shame. Morvius was right, revenge was better than despair, but what revenge could she have if she were exiled from this city?

  Beside her, Linaria and Morvius were squabbling.

  "—but he suggested getting drunk."

  "He said stay quiet, and I've never seen you in a stupor deep enough to still your tongue."

  "A talent of mine that you've taken advantage of a few times." Morvius leered.

  "Gods, why do I even—"

  Between their words and her thoughts, Jiri didn't notice Sera until the paladin sat beside her, close on the small bench.

  "You call yourself a shaman."

  It was a statement, not an accusation, but still Jiri shifted warily to face the woman beside her.

  "In the common tongue, it's the word that fits best. I speak to the spirits, in the air and the earth and all the parts of the world."

  "Do you not follow any god, then?"

  Was the woman proselytizing? "Gods are powerful spirits. I give them great respect."

  "In the north, you might be called a member of the green faith. A druid." The paladin had shed her armor when she had come into the Red Spear, but losing that bulk of leather and steel didn't make her look any less dangerous. Her dark eyes still carried
judgment, and her sword still hung at her hip, its worn grip never far from her hand. "I knew some of them, in my youth. In some ways you're like them, but not in others. Fire didn't come to them the way it does to you. That's the kind of magic I would expect from a sorcerer. Or..."

  "Or what?" They were calling me a demon. That's what Boro said. Jiri met Sera's gaze, unflinching. "I am a shaman, paladin—nothing more, nothing less. I don't know why the spirit of fire is so eager to serve me, but that doesn't change what I am."

  "What you are." The paladin finally looked away from her, staring thoughtfully out at nothing. "I asked some questions. About what happened to your village. About that place you call the Pyre. No one knew anything about it, or would admit to it. But they did tell me about your part of the jungle. How some avoided it, because fire there could be strange. Burning too fast, too hot, going out for no reason and then flaring up again. Some call your home cursed."

  "Some do." Where is she going with this?

  "I told you, when you took us there, hunting that demon. Evil can't be contained. Chain it, bury it, and it just grows in the darkness. Spreads. Until it taints everything around it."

  "You think I'm evil? That I'm somehow in league with that thing that was buried in the Pyre? Is that what you're saying?" Jiri felt herself trembling, and she didn't know if it was anger or fear, but the cool of Kalun's study was going, swallowed by a rising heat.

  "No." Sera looked back at her, eyes intense, but calm shaped the pallid features of her face. "You're not evil. My goddess would tell me if you were. I think that evil has touched you, though; that the thing your ancestors buried so long ago reached out and marked you in some way. Which is why I'm with you, shaman. I think that thing is still out there, and I think you're going to help me find it."

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  "I actually don't like saying ‘I told you so.' I'm not Morvius. But, really..." Linaria nodded toward Sera, striding down the street ahead of them. The paladin had changed her clothes and put her armor back on, replacing her usual tabard with a gleaming white cape. Night had fallen over Kibwe, and Sera shone in the light of the lanterns that lined the way to where the Governing Council met.