Chapter 31

31

Aiz

The morning after Aiz spent the night in Quil's tent, he brought her tea.

"I'm grateful for the warmth, Idaka." Aiz shivered as sand scraped the outsides of the tent, kicked up by a bitter fall wind. "But it smells awful."

"It's—ah—to prevent pregnancy." Quil sat beside her. "I'm told it doesn't cause pain."

Aiz observed the murky green liquid. He'd clearly done this before. "I suppose it wouldn't do for the Martial crown prince to have a half-Ankanese heir," she said archly.

"You—don't have to drink it," Quil said, looking alarmed at the prospect of an heir. "If you don't want to—"

"I'm teasing you, Quil." Aiz pushed a lock of hair off his forehead. "I'm not in any hurry to have children. I doubt your aunt would approve, in any case. Have you told her?" Aiz asked. "About me?"

"Not yet." Quil kissed her hand. "But I will."

"I was thinking," Aiz said. "The next time you go see her, you could take me with you—not because of this." She gestured between them. "But she's the Empress. Perhaps she could help my people."

More specifically, Aiz wanted to ask the Empress about the liquid metal used to make the masks. Quil knew little about them, a fact that frustrated Aiz to no end. But the Empress would have a keen understanding of her people's resources. Perhaps there was some trade Aiz could make. Even a small amount of the metal could change the fortunes of Kegar. And the Tel Ilessi shall deliver her people back to the homeland from whence they fled, so long ago.

"I'm ashamed I didn't think of it myself," Quil said.

After that, Aiz rarely pitched her own tent. Tas grinned at Quil, eyebrows in his hair as he asked why Quil looked so tired all the time. Karinna and Sufiyan made vomiting sounds when Quil was affectionate with Aiz. But for the most part, the Tribe seemed to find their relationship sweet.

All but Elias. It wasn't anything he said, or even did. It was a feeling Aiz got when she and Quil were together. The way Elias's jaw tightened when he saw them. The way he always seemed to appear when she and Ruh were talking about Mother Div or the Duranis.

The day they were to arrive in Nur, Quil was gone when Aiz woke up. She shivered in the early winter chill, packed up their tent, and tossed it onto the supplies wagon. Ruh found her as soon as she began to saddle Tregan.

"Can I ride with you, Ilar? Quil left with Tas and Elias before dawn. Didn't say when they'd be back. But you get to see Nur today! It's called the City of Light for their lanterns…"

Ruh told her all about Nur as, far in the distance, a quiver of air on the horizon solidified into the gold buildings and green palms of the famed oasis. Beyond and around it, massive rock plateaus cast huge shadows upon the ground, giving the desert an ethereal aura.

Aiz didn't see Quil again until the evening, when they were nearly to Nur's gates, waiting in an enormous line of caravans to secure a camping spot outside the city's walls.

"Ilo," he said, breathless as he rode up, his face drawn. "I'm sorry I've been gone all day. I must leave for the capital tonight with Tas."

Aiz cursed internally. Of course her opportunity to speak to the Empress would clash with finally meeting the Kehanni of Tribe Nasur. Just her luck.

"Could we leave in the morning? I've been waiting months—"

She stopped as Quil scratched the back of his head and fidgeted.

"I don't think I can bring you," he said. All around them, the caravan pressed in, moving impatiently toward their camping spot, everyone eager to settle in for the night. Quil lowered his voice. "I can't say much about what's going on, but—"

"Who will I tell, Quil?" Aiz struggled for composure. "I have no one. Even if I did, why don't you trust me?"

"Forgive me." He reached out a hand to take hers. Almost immediately, her temper softened. "It's been a long day," he said. "Of course I trust you. Have you ever heard of the Kegari?"

The mention was so unexpected that Aiz was barely able to school her features.

"Just the name," she said.

"They live at the tip of the Southern Continent. Notorious raiders. Very secretive. Isolationist, almost. The Ankanese say they raid because they're starving. But our sources tell us something terrible has happened there."

"Why does it matter?" Aiz said. "Are you friends with the Kegari?"

"No," Quil scoffed. "They're…not friends with anybody. They live on a spit of rock with nothing to trade, nothing to offer. The world has ignored them for years, and they seem content being ignored."

Aiz bit her tongue. They raid because they're starving. Nothing to offer…content being ignored. How wrong Quil was! How horribly shortsighted—him and anyone else who thought so little of a people they knew nothing about.

"Recently, there was a massacre there. Hundreds dead, Aiz. Perpetrated by their own king."

"A—a massacre?" Aiz's heart began to pound, and she thought of Tiral. Of how he hated the Snipes. But she said nothing, for a refugee from an Ankanese slum wouldn't know anything about Kegari politics. "Why would this king kill his own people?"

"The Ankanese are the only ones who trade with the Kegari and they didn't offer any theories. We're sending someone to investigate, but he won't reach there for weeks. Perhaps they are like the Karkauns, and death allows them to harness magic. I don't know. The envoy said that religious figures were targeted along with children."

Noa. The cloister. Cero had said nothing—perhaps Noa and the orphans were fine, and this was a rumor. Aiz shivered. The land around them felt oppressive suddenly, the plateaus and the mountains seeming to cast everything into shadow.

"Your aunt." Aiz didn't bother to hide her worry—Quil would think she was reflecting his own concern. "Why does she care about what happens with the Kegari?"

"She doesn't. But Ankana is one of our biggest trading partners. The Kegari are biting at their southern borders. One of our treaties states that the Empire will lend soldiers and siege machines in case of a security threat to the Ankanese. My aunt needs someone to speak with the High Seer."

"So, she'll send you."

"Or herself. I'd run things in Antium while she was away. I'm nearly old enough now."

Aiz cursed the fact that she hadn't told Quil she was Kegari from the beginning. It would give her the perfect excuse to see the Empress. She couldn't tell him now—her lies would be revealed and no matter how fast she talked, he'd never trust her again.

"I can still come with you," she reasoned. "I'm Ankanese—"

"She doesn't know you, Ilo," Quil said. "But I'll present your case. Tell me exactly what—"

"What's so wrong with me, Quil?" Aiz snapped, weeks of pent-up anger salting her veins. "Do you think I can't handle myself around your precious Empress?"

"Of course I don't think that." The furrow in his brow said otherwise. "It's just…my aunt, she has certain expectations of me."

"You say you want to be with me, Quil, but if you did, you'd tell your aunt about me. You'd take me with you to the capital. You'd let me meet the Empress." Of course, he was silent. Quil had steel in his spine. Just not when it came to her.

Hoofbeats had them both turning in their saddles, and Aiz forced herself to smile as Laia approached, riding her husband's stallion. The mirrors on her heavily embroidered Kehanni robes caught the swiftly fading light. Already, stars twinkled on the horizon.

"Ilar." Laia held up a folded piece of parchment. "The Kehanni of Tribe Nasur awaits us. We're to meet her at her caravan north of the city after dusk. If we hurry, we'll make it."

"Ama!" Ruh rode up swiftly on his pony. "Take me, too! I'm Ilar's translator."

Laia shook her head. "I can translate for her. Kehanni Nasur is quite old, and you, my love, are quite spirited. Another time, perhaps."

"Kehanni Nasur likes me. She won't mind if I come! Last time she said I was such a good tale-spinner that I must be part jinn."

"Indeed, she did," Laia said. "But, Ruh—"

Aiz's own instinct prickled. He sees what others do not. Something about this story was hidden from Laia. But perhaps Ruh would be able to see it.

Yes , Mother Div said. Take him.

Aiz looked at Ruh, uneasy at Mother Div's interest in the child.

There is reason for all that I do. Take the child.

They were only going to see a storyteller. The boy would be perfectly safe.

"I—I think Ruh should come," Aiz said. "He can ride with me and Tregan."

Laia looked at her son's hopeful face and sighed. "Come along, then."

The Nasur caravan wasn't unlike Tribe Saif's, though it was smaller, the wagons older, their paintings less vivid. Aiz held Ruh close as she approached, reminding herself that she was not Aiz, the lowly Snipe, but Ilar, an Ankanese woman fighting for her people, and a guest of Tribe Saif.

"Let me speak, if you will, Ilar," Laia said in an undertone. "Kehanni Nasur is a traditionalist. But she is deeply learned and I'm certain she can help. Ruh—"

"Speak softly, watch, and listen," Ruh said. "I know. Ilar taught me."

They dismounted, and a young man picketed their horses and ushered them to the center of the encampment. The wagon waiting for them was adorned with images of desert skies and wheeling constellations in shades of gold and blue that reminded Aiz of the Kegari flag. A good omen, perhaps. It was the largest of the wagons, warmly lit, with the scent of creosote incense wafting from the door.

"Come in, come in!" The voice that boomed out of the wagon belied the tiny form lying on a cushioned bench within, tucked in a woolen blanket. The woman was so old that her face seemed more wrinkle than skin. She was small and brown, with a halo of curly white hair. Aiz had thought Laia's Kehanni tattoos were intricate, but Kehanni Nasur's tattoos wrapped all the way up her skinny arms.

Her wagon was packed with scrolls, books, drawings, and engravings, as well as a map of the Empire pinned to the wall behind her. The lamps that Tribe Nur was known for sparkled with every color Aiz could conceive of.

"Kehanni Nasur," Laia said. "You honor us."

"Laia of Serra. You and your family are very welcome, my child." The old woman held out a bowl of pink salt with a shaking hand, and Aiz followed Laia and Ruh, putting a pinch of it on her tongue. Once they'd partaken, the Kehanni bade them sit on the bench across from her. She had laid a table with two steaming cups of tea and a large glass of magenta-colored juice.

"For you, little one." She nodded to the juice. "Still telling stories?"

Ruh nodded and took the juice. "But not today. Today I'm here for my friend." He looked at Aiz with pride that made her forget her earlier anger at Quil.

The Kehanni shifted her regard to Aiz. "I hear you have a story to tell."

"Yes," Aiz said. "But…my Sadhese. I understand more than I speak."

"I will translate for her." Ruh nudged Aiz affectionately. "I'm used to it."

Aiz had told Ruh the story of Mother Div's entrapment so many times that he was translating almost before she was finished with the sentences. But the telling was smooth—she knew by now to focus less on Mother Div's travels and more on the description of her prison.

When she finished, Aiz could scarcely breathe, waiting for the old woman to respond.

"I have heard this tale," Kehanni Nasur finally said, and Aiz's blood surged in excitement. She wanted almost to shake the old woman, to demand to know if she had further details about Mother Div's prison.

"The version I heard was different," the Kehanni said. "It came from far to the south."

"Ankana," Aiz said quickly.

"Perhaps," the Kehanni said. "Perhaps not. In the telling I remember, the tale ends when the Holy Cleric names her three children the rulers of their land. How come you by this story, child?"

Aiz opened her mouth to say what she always said: that a storyteller in Ankana told her. But the words felt stuck in her throat. Hiding the truth had gotten her nothing.

"I see the story." The Kehanni looked beyond Aiz. "It lives in you, the whole of it, and yet it is trapped. Like your Holy Cleric. Tell me the truth of how you found this tale, girl, and I will hunt the story for you."

Laia and Ruh looked at Aiz quizzically. Aiz was reminded of the moment she escaped the Tohr. The moment she revealed herself to Tribe Saif. The moment she told Ruh the Sacred Tales. Each time, it felt as if she were on the cusp of something, and if she only stepped into the air, the currents would bear her. She felt that again now.

She reached for her pack and pulled out the oilcloth-wrapped book.

No, girl! Mother Div warned. But this time, Aiz didn't wish to listen.

Trust me, Mother Div.

"Laia did tell the original story. In this book."

Laia looked at the book in confusion. "What—what is this, Ilar? Why did you not show me before?"

The old woman whistled in a deep breath, silencing Laia with one hand. "Show me."

"You will not be able to read it—it is in another language." Aiz bet on the fact that the woman wouldn't recognize as obscure a language as Kegari and opened the book to the first page, with Laia's name, and then to the story itself: "The Vessel of the Fount."

As Ruh looked between his mother and Aiz, Laia shook her head. "The book is blank, Ilar."

"No." Kehanni Nasur peered at it. "The stories are in Sadhese. Your name is on the first page, Laia."

"I— No—" A sudden sheen of sweat gleamed on Laia's face, and she grabbed Ruh's hand. "I—I've seen that before. But there is something wrong. We cannot be here. And you—" She turned on Aiz. "You lied to me. You never said anything about this book. If you had—" She put a hand to her forehead, as if in pain. "C-come, Ruh."

"But, Ama—"

"We're leaving!"

"Wait, Laia, let me explain—" Aiz turned to follow, but Kehanni Nasur grabbed Aiz with a clawlike hand.

Her eyes were completely white.

"But the wind pulled at her still, until one day she met betrayal and imprisonment in the lee of a giant's fangs." The Kehanni groaned out the words in Kegari, a language that she had no business knowing. "Div wept, for no creature of fur nor feather dared to tread near her prison. No rain penetrated its shriveled hollow, no wind blew in to freshen the stale air. She had followed the archer north across the sky from the City of Light, only to be felled by his arrow."

The Kehanni fell back, gasping, her eyes clearing.

The door slammed, and Aiz could hear Ruh's protests fading as his mother dragged him away.

"That is a vile tome, child," the Kehanni said, speaking in Sadhese now, her hand flexing toward the book like a vulture's claw. "Not meant for creatures of our world."

Aiz bet-Dafra! Mother Div shrieked so loudly in Aiz's mind that she flinched. Why do you not listen! Hide the book.

The lamps in the wagon flickered as a malodorous wind blew through. Aiz backed away, tucked the book in her pack, the wind fading as she did so. The lamps dimmed for a moment, then grew bright again, and the old woman blinked, as if she'd woken up from a dream.

Aiz watched her in fear, waiting for her to call for her Tribespeople. To demand the book be taken away. But the old woman shivered.

"An ill dream," she muttered, looking foggily at Aiz, as if she didn't remember the past few minutes. "You—you were looking for a story. I cannot help. I am tired. I need rest. Please—the door—"

The woman shoved Aiz into the windy night. Aiz's mind reeled at the little she'd learned—and at everything she hadn't. Mother Div, how? Aiz asked. How did you make the Kehanni forget? Why?

I used every scrap of strength I had saved to empty her mind. Mother Div's voice quivered with rage. I cannot help you now. I must recover. Until you find me, daughter of Kegar, you are on your own.

I've been on my own! The wrath Aiz had spent so many months controlling, suppressing, denying now ricocheted through her mind. She wanted to shout at that useless old woman back there, to demand to know why Laia had recognized the book and yet seen nothing on its pages. She raged at Mother Div herself.

Why me? she screamed in her mind. Why choose me if you don't trust me? If you don't think I can free you?

Mother Div did not answer.

Aiz hurried through the streets toward Tribe Saif's caravan, shielding her face from the thick clouds of dust the wind had churned up. As the familiar wagons came into sight, she threw her shoulders back and lifted her chin. She'd been here for weeks now. Laia knew her—trusted her with her child. Already, Aiz was coming up with an explanation for the book. It was holy, Kehanni. A gift not meant for outsiders. My beliefs are different from yours. Would you have me forsake them?

As she passed the outskirts of the camp, a shadow fell over her, her arms were wrenched in front of her, and she was pulled to the shadows between two wagons. She looked up into the pale, assessing stare of Elias Veturius. The point of his scim dug against her heart as a desert howler raged around them. Her fingers twitched, but she knew she wouldn't be able to call the wind before he ran her through.

"Ilar," he said. "A word."

Nothing in Elias's mien resembled the father who threw his son on his shoulders, the man who taught dozens of children everything from history to archery with humor and patience.

This was the soldier. The killer. The monster.

"My wife returned to camp not two minutes ago," he said. "She was confused. She could barely speak. But she did say you couldn't be trusted."

"She's upset." Aiz's anger faded into alarm, and she fought to steady her breathing. "I understand. But I didn't do anything wrong."

The scim pressed closer. "I find that hard to believe."

"Aba, no!" Ruh came hurtling from the camp. Aiz wanted to hug him in relief. If this Martial brute would listen to anyone, it would be the ten-year-old child who had more sense than him.

"Ruh." Elias lowered his scim, but Aiz didn't dare move in case he decided to skewer her with it. "Go back to your ama's wagon. There's a sandstorm coming in fast, love. It's not safe out here."

"Let go of Ilar." Ruh grabbed his father's hand, and Elias clenched his jaw, marshalling his self-control.

"Ruh!" Elias said. "Your mother's not feeling well. You need to go to her. Tell her everything is all right. I won't hurt Ilar. I promise."

Ruh looked worriedly at his father and then ran away. Aiz wanted to shout at him to come back.

"Are you in the habit of lying to your son?"

Elias's jaw twitched. "Laia says you're dangerous. That you can't be trusted. She said we must send you away. But she won't say more. She's fuzzy—she doesn't seem to remember what happened in the wagon. Tell me why. Is my family in danger from you?"

She forced herself to meet Elias's gaze, but it was so merciless that she quickly looked away. Quil approached, slowing down as he took in the scene before him. Elias shook his head at Quil, his face forbidding enough that the younger man backed away.

Weak! Quil would never go against Elias. Certainly not for Aiz.

"Answer the question, Ilar," Elias said. "And do not make the mistake of lying to me."

"You're not in danger from me," Aiz said. "I am looking for my Holy Cleric. I found her story in a book, but she—she speaks to me in my head, and she told me not to talk about the book."

Elias nodded. "I believe that is the first fully honest sentence you have uttered in the entire three months you've been with us," he said. "You're not Ankanese. Where are you from?"

"I'm from a forgotten place," Aiz spat out, her anger turning her face hot, making her hands shake. "A place with no hope. I came here to find a future for my people. But you wouldn't understand that, would you, Martial?"

"My son Ruh," Elias said. "You involved him in the hunting of this story. He told me as much. Did you tell him to keep it a secret from us?"

Aiz nodded, looking around, hoping now that Quil could come back, or the Zaldar, even one of Elias's other children.

"We accepted you into this Tribe," Elias said. "We took salt with you. My wife hunts a story for you. We trusted you. And you told my child to keep something from me—in addition to whatever lies you told about who you are and where you're from. No longer. You will gather your things and your horse, and you will leave. You will not interact with anyone. You will certainly not say a word to my family—and that includes Tas and Quil. I will be watching. Go."

Aiz trudged toward her tent, Elias's gaze boring into her back. She wanted to turn and tear Elias's weapons from his hand, let the wind spin him up and into nothingness. How dare he speak to her like she was a common criminal? How dare he kick her out of the Tribe as if the past few months meant nothing?

As Aiz threw her things pell-mell into her pack, sand scoured the sides of the tent. The storm was nearly here—where would Aiz and Tregan take shelter? There must be someplace in Nur that would have her. Surely Elias wouldn't turn the entire city against her in one night.

"Ilar!"

A knife came through the back canvas of the tent, and Ruh's face popped in, his dark hair a haystack.

"No, Ruh," Aiz said. "You— I can't talk to you. Your father—"

"He's watching from the other side of the camp. Ilar—I heard what the Kehanni said in the end. She had followed the archer north across the sky from the City of Light, only to be felled by his arrow. "

"She spoke in another language," Aiz said. "How could you even understand—" It didn't matter. She didn't want Ruh to end up in trouble. "Go, Ruh. Before your father—"

The child lengthened the rip in the tent and pulled Aiz out. "Ilar. Look." He pointed directly upward. A wall of dust moved toward them, but it had not yet obscured the stars, and she saw the constellation he pointed to before it was swallowed up.

"Those stars," Ruh said over the wind, "that's the arrow—the archer's arrow." He looked toward the rock formations north of Nur.

"I never finished telling you the story." He spoke so quickly that his words tripped into each other. "About the Durani. And the boy from Tribe Nur."

It was weeks ago he'd mentioned it. "The chaos storyteller lured him out to the desert. They—they followed a constellation." Aiz's skin tingled as she spoke. "That constellation—the archer. And—and there was a hole that led—"

"To the sky, yes!" Ruh said. "The Durani wanted to eat him, but she was old and she fell asleep. He was small in the hole she'd put him in, still as the air itself. It smelled awful, like rotting things. He was scared of the mountain's shadows, but he waited until he was sure she was asleep and then he ran. But he wasn't the same after he came back. He was…empty."

"No rain penetrated its shriveled hollow, no wind blew in to freshen the stale air," Aiz whispered, quoting "The Vessel of the Fount."

Her gaze went west, to the immense mountain range that burst up from the earth. "In the lee of a giant's fangs…"

The wind screamed, as if in exultation. Suddenly, with the kind of knowing that could only come from beyond, from Mother Div herself, Aiz knew . She knew where her cleric's spirit was trapped.