Chapter 28

28

Aiz

After the assassination attempt, Quil grew easier around Aiz, telling her of his aunt and the cities of the Empire. The massive, multi-masted ships in the port of Navium and the fortified walls of Antium. He told her of the webs of Gens politics, the beauty of Serric architecture, the drums that thundered out messages across the Empire.

Each story was an opportunity to know him—and his weaknesses—better. To embed herself deeper into his consciousness as the girl who understood his heart.

As the Tribe ventured west, toward a distant jag of mountains, Quil and Aiz often scouted ahead, the desert unrolling blue ahead of them.

"I talk too much, Ilo." Quil used a nickname Aiz had grown fond of. "You must be sick of me."

"Never," Aiz said, and to her surprise, it wasn't a lie. He did talk—but only with her. The rest of Tribe Saif took up their fair share of space and sound, whether it was Tas telling bawdy tales or Karinna cursing as she trained.

Quil, Aiz observed, didn't feel as if he had a right to that space. Tribe Saif was not his family, no matter how much they might love him. He kept his opinions to himself and, much like Aiz, always strived to be helpful.

With Aiz, Quil was more relaxed. Honest. It was useful, of course—he answered everything she asked about himself, the Empire, the Tribes. But deep in the night, when she hoped Mother Div couldn't see into her mind, Aiz also admitted to herself that his trust felt like a gift.

As did his attraction to her. Their glances became touches. Their touches lingered—his hand on her waist as he lifted her into her saddle. Hers on his shoulders when she passed behind him.

The Kegari girl often thought of what Laia had said . Your heart knows, even if your mind doesn't. Aiz wasn't sure about her heart. But her body was aware of the heat of his gaze, the thrum of his voice, the flow of his movements. It was easy to make him want her, she realized, because she wanted him in return.

Take, Aiz , Mother Div whispered in these moments of weakness. Do not give. Not to him. Not to anyone.

Ruh, meanwhile, pilfered a few of his ama's scrolls almost daily, secreting away with Aiz whenever he could escape from lessons and chores to translate them for her.

"I found one that's promising!" he said when they were only five weeks out from Nur. They were on horse duty—which was mostly Ruh giving the beasts treats while Aiz curried them. It was a good time to talk, as everyone was preoccupied with getting Tribe Saif's tonics and poultices and teas ready for trading.

Ruh glanced around them surreptitiously before speaking.

"The scroll had notes on a story about two people who fall in love," Ruh said. "They get married, but something goes wrong—a Durani emerges from her haunted castle, shrouded in dust—one of the strongest of her order."

"A chaos storyteller." Aiz finished up with an ornery gelding and moved on to Tregan. "Teller of lies, spreader of untruths. They have an order? And how is that related to Mother Div?"

"Mother Div was imprisoned, right? But who did the imprisoning? You say she's a cleric. Powerful in magic. Not just anyone could imprison her."

Perhaps the child had a point. Aiz had grown to respect his cleverness. He sees what others do not.

"Tell me more about them, then." Aiz snuck Tregan a lump of sugar before reaching for the curry comb. "These Duranis. You said they have an order—where do they live?"

"The stories don't say, but there's an entire area north of Nur where Zaldar Shan refuses to go because rumor says that's where the Duranis dwell. Even Aba stays close to the wagons when we're there. And Ama hates that part of the desert."

He launched into a tale then, one that culminated in the Durani enticing an unsuspecting child to a castle in the desert with the intent of feasting upon his flesh.

"Why is it always a woman doing the feasting?" Aiz scratched Tregan between the ears when the mare nudged her. "I've never heard of a male witch who gnaws on legbones."

"Kehannis are usually women, so Duranis must be, too. And it's not just a story. One of my friends met a Durani once." Ruh dropped his voice and Aiz strained to hear him over the wind. "From Tribe Nur. Do you know what he said?"

Aiz lowered her voice too, getting into the spirit of the story. "What did he say?"

"He said he was lured to the desert by this Durani. The archer constellation led them to the pinnacles in the desert. There, they found a hole in the desert that led to the sky."

"How can a hole in the ground lead to the sky?"

"I don't know, that's what he said. The Durani took him there, but she was so tired after the journey that she fell asleep. He was small in the hole she'd put him in, still as—"

The boy paused, his pale gaze shooting directly toward the desert.

"Ruh?"

A moment later, he raced into the sands.

Aiz dropped the curry comb, heart clutching in fear. There were coyotes out here, bandits—even wraiths. Quil pointed one out a week ago, drifting near their camp until Elias took its head off. Its otherworldly shriek echoed in Aiz's ears for hours after. There were even jinn, whose ability to manipulate thoughts, fire, stone, and blood made Aiz uneasy. Ruh wasn't safe alone, and when Aiz called his name again, her voice cracked in panic.

A thump out in the darkness, one body crashing into another. A raspy voice spoke.

"Have some decorum, boy. Remember my station, for skies' sake."

Beware, child , Mother Div whispered to Aiz. This is a creature of great power. Bury your magic. Speak little.

Moments later, a woman stepped out of the dark, her hand in Ruh's. Her white hair fell in thick waves to her shoulders, and she wore an embroidered tunic and loose pants in forest colors—traditional Scholar garb. The scars that clawed across her face made it difficult to make out any of her features beyond her dark, deep-set eyes.

As the woman approached the fire, every member of the Tribe stopped what they were doing, inclined their heads as one, hands clasped together. All but Karinna, Zuriya, and Sufiyan, who enveloped the old woman in a tumultuous hug.

Laia and Elias's children spoke at once to her, Ruh telling her of the puzzle box the Empress had sent, Karinna of a backflip she'd mastered, and Zuriya of her advancement in the Tribe's holy Mysteries. Even Sufiyan, more aloof at sixteen, gave the woman a tight hug. "You have time to lose a shooting contest with your favorite grandchild, Nan?"

His grandmother patted his cheek, gaze filled with affection. "Of course, my love," she said. "Though I'm only going to embarrass you again."

The woman didn't look at Aiz—she didn't have to. Though she kissed her grandchildren and laughed at their jokes, Aiz could sense her regard. It reminded her, in a way, of Elias, but more subtle, as if she were a lioness circling Aiz at a distance, nothing but a pair of cold eyes in the dark.

The girl felt something featherlight against her mind, like a whisper from across a room.

"Bani al-Mauth." Laia addressed the woman formally in Sadhese before embracing her. "Mother. Join our fire. Are you hungry?"

"No food, daughter."

Aiz looked down to hide her surprise. This was the woman who was almost as holy to the Tribes as Mother Div was to the Kegari? Aiz had expected someone…taller.

Ruh had told Aiz of his grandmother, the Bani al-Mauth: Chosen of Death. She lived in the Forest of Dusk, far to the east, and guided troubled ghosts to the afterlife. She took the pain and misery of the spirits and cast it into a place Ruh called the Sea of Suffering.

Do you mean Kegar? Aiz had chuckled darkly to herself, but didn't make the joke with Ruh. He was a child, after all.

According to Ruh, the ghosts came from all over—even Ankana. The Kegari had simple death rituals. A shroud, a prayer. May Mother Div welcome you to the Fount. Aiz wondered if the Bani al-Mauth had met a Kegari ghost. She had a story prepared in case.

The Bani al-Mauth said something in Serran, a language Aiz didn't fully understand. Laia's attention drifted to Ruh. She nodded once and disappeared into the outer edge of the caravan. The woman sent her other grandchildren off with promises to find them later, before prowling toward Aiz.

"Ruh's Ankanese friend," she said.

"A harder worker I've never met, Bani al-Mauth," Tas spoke up. "And she has a good sense of humor."

The holy woman snorted, well aware of Tas's idea of humor.

"Don't get many Ankanese spirits in the Forest of Dusk." The Bani al-Mauth turned her scarred face to Aiz. Whatever softness she'd shown her grandchildren was gone. "Your seers have a tight grip over the death rituals."

"The seers guide us." Aiz thought back to her time on Dolbra's ship. "The orisons we sing light the way to our own after."

The Bani al-Mauth grunted in agreement or disapproval; Aiz couldn't tell which.

"My daughter says you're seeking a story. Are you sure it's one that wishes to be found?"

"I don't know." Aiz's only choice was honesty. This woman would pick out a lie from a mile away. Even shading the truth was dangerous.

"Not all stories should be told, girl," the woman said. "Sometimes they cause more damage than good. I'd hate it if you brought harm to my family. For your sake."

The old woman excused herself, disappearing amid the wagons. Aiz warmed her hands by the fire, a placid smile on her face, as if the holiest—and most powerful—woman in the Tribal Lands hadn't just menaced her. Aiz's rage, so well controlled for weeks, stirred fitfully. But she tamped it down as always, for it would not serve her.

When it seemed as if everyone had moved on to their own tasks, she stood up, and followed the Bani al-Mauth.

Aiz crept past the wagons and tents closest to her to the more distant ones, where Laia and Elias had made camp. She moved slowly, until she spotted three figures standing around a fire near Laia's silver and green wagon. One of them was tall and broad-shouldered: Elias.

Aiz knew by now that the big man moved fast. Faster than was normal. She suspected he had magic of some sort. She walked with care, flitting from wagon to wagon until she could make out their conversation.

Which was in Serran.

A voice spoke from beside her, and Aiz clapped her hand over her own mouth so she didn't scream.

"The next time you want to spy," Ruh whispered, "bring me with you. I can translate."

"You scared me!"

"Nan is saying that someone…or something is tied to the Forest of Dusk." He translated line by line then, voice barely above a whisper.

"You're certain you've seen no sign of magic in him?"

"Nothing beyond what you already know." Elias's deep voice was soft. "What do the jinn say of it?"

"Very little." The Bani al-Mauth sounded angry. "Those few who pass the ghosts speak to me of our work, but not of their people. Something is afoot. Some change. And he is at the heart of it, but I cannot glean more than that."

Ruh looked suddenly abashed. "Now, ah, now they're talking about you."

"Me? Why would they talk about me?"

"Nan wants to know why Laia gives shelter to every stray who comes her way—" Ruh squeezed Aiz's hand. "You're not a stray," he whispered. "You're my friend."

Aiz didn't know why a lump rose in her throat. Maybe because she knew he was sincere. Maybe because Ruh was her friend, too, and she had grown to truly care for him these past few weeks.

"Ruh, you left the bleeding dishes!" Sufiyan's irritated voice called through the dark, growing closer with every word. "If you don't get your skinny behind over here, I'm going to dump them in your bedroll!"

The boy jumped up. "I have to go!"

Aiz stared after him, mouth open in protest, then turned back to Laia, Elias, and the Bani al-Mauth.

Only to find that there were two people at the fire now.

Elias had disappeared.

Aiz cursed, backing away from the wagon where she'd hidden. She hadn't noticed him vanish. She ducked around a small group of tents, raking the dark for the Martial. He was here somewhere, and likely to find her. She'd need to hew close to the truth: The Bani al-Mauth told me I shouldn't look for this story. I wanted to ask her why. Would he believe her? Bleeding hells, if he kicked her out of the Tribe now, when they were so close to Nur—

"Ilo?"

Aiz stumbled straight into Quil. He caught her, brows raised in alarm. At the same time, the hairs on her neck rose. Only a dozen yards away, she caught a flash of metal. Elias!

Aiz made a snap judgement, knowing Elias would likely see through any excuses. She took Quil's face in her hands and kissed him.

She'd expected surprise, a moment for him to consider, maybe even to pull away. She didn't expect the spark that had danced between them for weeks to roar into a flame. For him to kiss her back like he'd imagined it a thousand times in his head, for her own body to arch into his, hungry for more—

Or for her breathless embarrassment, moments later, when Elias's wry voice drifted out of the night.

"Perhaps find a better spot," he suggested before his footsteps faded.

Quil chuckled and Aiz did too, more relieved than amused. His lips parted and she could practically see the questions tumbling to the tip of his tongue. What are you doing out here? Are you all right? But she didn't want to answer those questions, because she didn't want to lie to Quil.

He is a means to an end. Div's voice sounded in Aiz's mind, but for the first time, Aiz didn't respond, didn't agree.

Instead, she put a finger to Quil's lips. She'd memorized the shape of them, and at her touch, Quil closed his eyes, taking a shuddering breath. Aiz felt power course through her, potent and delicious. He wanted her even more than she wanted him. It was written in every line of his body, and Aiz could use it to her advantage.

"Come, Idaka," she whispered, and led him away from their hiding spot and to the south side of the camp, where he always pitched his tent. His cheeks were flushed, his yellow eyes bright with desire as he gazed at her, as she pulled him into the tent and pushed him onto his cot. Then she kissed him again, reveling in the fact that whatever questions he might have had would soon be forgotten.