The art of prophecy, p.31
The Art of Prophecy, page 31
Sali had managed to test everyone else on the list and was just finishing up with the herbalist’s daughter when her empty stomach grumbled, reminding her that she still hadn’t eaten. How did she keep forgetting? This was one of the strange side effects of the Khan’s Pull. It still had not lessened. In fact, it had grown so strong now, it blanketed her other senses, so much so she often couldn’t sense the needs of the rest of her body. All she could feel was that gnawing, twisting desire to drop everything and sprint all the way to Chaqra.
Once Sali focused specifically on her empty stomach, the hunger came roaring back, sending sharp pains through her midsection. She grimaced as she finished speaking with the mother of the child.
The herbalist noticed her difficulty. “Is everything all right, Soul Seeker?”
“I am fine,” she replied through gritted teeth.
The healer was not easily swayed. She cupped Sali’s hand and squeezed, holding her still and gauging something. “Are you suffering from withdrawal of some sort?”
“No, it’s nothing of the sort. It’s…” Sali didn’t know how to describe the compulsion. She tried to pull her hand away, but the herbalist’s grip was firm.
“An addiction then?” The herbalist gave her a sympathetic look. “There is no shame in seeking help. I have treated several former clan warriors. Many have struggled lately.”
Addiction was taboo among her people. Still, perhaps this herbalist could help. Sali leaned in and spoke in a low voice. “Do you have anything that can suppress urges?”
The woman nodded. “What sort? Zhuun alcohol? Giddy smoke? Opium? The treatment depends on the substance.”
“It’s nothing like that. It’s more mental than anything else.” The last thing Sali needed were rumors of the local Soul Seeker suffering from such a vice.
“Then something like a gambling addiction?” The woman’s eyes widened. “Do you have an urge for violence or murder? Sexual—”
“No, no.” This was getting her nowhere. “Apologizes, master herbalist. I am wasting your time. I’ll be all right.”
“One moment, please.” The herbalist hurried to the hundreds of small wooden drawers behind her and returned a few moments later with a steaming cup in one hand and a small jar in the other. “Rat-tail leaves and hawkblood. Two pinches mixed into tea or hot water every morning. No more than one cup. This should soothe the mind and last through most of the day.”
Sali didn’t reach for it. “How much?”
The herbalist pushed both across the counter. “Consider it my contribution toward aiding in the search for the Eternal Khan.”
Sali tried the concoction and found the taste as pleasant as anything involving rat-tails could be. Warmth spread through her body and she immediately felt a calm follow it. The gnawing pull in her head lessened, and she could feel some of her other senses again. She hadn’t even realized her leg had been itching fiercely until just now.
Sali sucked in a long breath. “Thank you.”
“Come back if you never need more, Soul Seeker.”
She remained standing at the door for a few moments, replaying what had just happened in her head. She had never fully considered how important Soul Seekers were to her people. It was interesting to feel appreciated. It was not something she had ever experienced as a Will of the Khan or viperstrike, because her interaction with those from lower castes was kept to a minimum. Now that she walked among them, her relationship with them felt strange, but not unwelcome.
Sali left the shop and jogged—sprinted almost—to the nearest street vendor. Now that her mind was clearer, it let her know her body was ravenous. She bought one of everything and wolfed it down as quickly as the vendor cooked it, savoring nothing. The rice meal was bland; the spicy noodle stew was surprisingly devoid of noodles, or spice for that matter. The meat on a stick tasted nothing like the advertised horse, and she wasn’t sure what the supposed taro cakes were made from. Not that any of this mattered.
Sali didn’t put forth her critique of the food until she had finished the last bite. “That was terrible. What did I just eat?”
The vendor took her criticism in stride. “I can tell how much you hate it by the way you cleaned the plate. Would you like seconds?”
“Yes, friend.” Sali pointed at the display. “This all looks like food from home, but tastes nothing like it. Why is that?”
The vendor sighed. “I used to be the chef for the clan heads on Fushand, but there is only so much I can do here without the proper ingredients. We do not have access to any of the spices from the Grass Sea, so we have to make do with what the land-chained provide.”
She made a face. “Zhuun cuisine is terrible.”
“No disagreement there.” He held out his hand. “That’ll be nine copper liang.”
Sali paid the bill without complaint. This became her routine for the next several days. The same boy would appear at her door early in the morning with a new list. Sali would canvass another section of the district, then try her luck at a different food vendor. Disappointingly, the alleged clan-head chef from the first day was the best of the lot, and she found herself a regular at his stall.
Sali spent the rest of the week covering the entire district. Mali, now seventeen, should have appeared on one of the lists, possibly under a pseudonym. Sali had daydreamed of walking to a home to conduct a test and finding Mali at the door. The two would burst into tears and she would pick up her little Sprout and swing her around fiercely like she used to, and then they would steal away in the middle of the night under the glow of the three moons.
Sali had clung to hope even until the final morning, when the errand boy told her these twelve names were the last. That day, once she finished the last child, a three-year-old, reality finally punched her in the gut. Her knees buckled as a body-shuddering sob overtook her. Mali wasn’t here. That meant she had likely fallen alongside Nezra, perished on the forced march, or succumbed to illness in this accursed city. It didn’t matter how she died. Her precious and beautiful Sprout was gone, alongside the last of their blood. Sali was all alone in the world.
The poor toddler’s mother, fearing something terrible had happened to her son, reacted poorly to Sali’s sudden display of grief. “What’s the matter?” she cried out. “What’s wrong with my son? Is he cursed?” She paused, her hand fluttering to her chest. “Wait, is he the Eternal Khan?”
Thinking of Jiamin, Sali nearly broke into cynical laughter. “No, mistress, your son is not the Eternal Khan.”
The disappointment was apparent on the mother’s face. It disappeared when she saw Sali’s red eyes. “Then what’s the matter, Soul Seeker?”
Sali’s grief was quickly masked. She shook her head. “It’s nothing. I’ve been searching for someone, and she does not seem to be here.”
The woman touched her shoulder lightly. “I understand your loss. I lost my husband during the battle and my oldest daughter from sickness after we arrived here. Are you sure you looked everywhere?”
“I’ve searched for and tested everyone under eighteen years of age here in the district.”
The woman furrowed her brow. “Did you also check the ones living on the general’s estate?”
Sali perked up. “What general’s estate? How many live there?”
“I’m not sure,” the woman replied. “About a quarter of the number in this district, I’d say. They’re General Quan Sah’s personal servants. My heart-sister is among them. She works as a gardener. Every once in a while, she comes here to recruit workers for large jobs. From what I hear, they live well, but aren’t allowed to move about as freely, and have to adhere to an early curfew. If it were up to me…”
Sali stopped listening. Quan Sah, the general who had razed Nezra, was holding hundreds of Katuia at his estate. How had this escaped her knowledge? Was this an oversight on the part of the council or a deliberate attempt to hide it from her? There was only one way to find out.
Sali excused herself from the woman’s rambling, patting the toddler on the way out, and marched down the main street. Her thoughts seethed as she stormed down the road. She couldn’t remember walking to the estate where the Council of Nezra held court. A squad of guards staffing the front gates saw her all the way down the block. They noticed the fury on her face and hastily formed up.
The squadlead met her halfway down the street and leveled her spear at Sali. “Stop, not one step farther. State your business.”
Sali’s hand snaked out and clutched the end of the spear. She snapped her body like a whip, pushing and transferring her jing from the ground, through her body, over the shaft of the weapon, and into the guard’s hands. The squadlead cried as the shock tore the weapon out of her grasp. Not taking her eyes off the front gates, Sali hurled the spear into a nearby wall with a loud thud, then continued on without missing a step. The rest of the squad realized who they were dealing with. Fearful cries of “viperstrike” passed through them as they melted away from her until only one guard bravely, or foolishly, remained.
To Sali’s surprise, it was that doe-eyed man from a few days prior. He stood alone, quivering. “I’m sorry, Viperstrike Salminde. I can’t let you pass.”
Sali stopped as the tip of his spear touched her scale armor lightly. “Hampa, isn’t it? Your courage and commitment are admirable, if not your sense of self-preservation.”
Hampa looked pleased that she remembered his name, but still held his ground. “I will die in defense of Nezra.”
The lad had a good head on his shoulders. It was going to get him killed, which was a pity. “What you’re defending now is not Nezra, and I am not your enemy.”
“It is not a warrior’s place to choose when to follow their duty.”
Another fair reply. However…“It is always a choice, young Hampa. Never fight blindly, and never throw your life away.” That last comment hit Sali a little too close to home. Hampa wavered for a few seconds before slowly lowering his spear.
Sali offered him a curt nod as acknowledgment and continued walking. The rest of the squad gathered and followed close behind, but none dared impede her progress. She passed through the gates and continued around the estate toward the back garden. Word must have raced ahead to the council, because two squads of guards were waiting for her at the end of the bridge as she was crossing over to the pavilion. She was trying to figure out how to best dispatch all ten guards without hurting anyone when Ariun arrived and saved her the trouble.
“Salminde,” he said. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”
“Your council was supposed to provide me the names of every Katuia under the age of eighteen,” she said flatly.
He nodded. “And so we did. Why, did you not get the lists?”
“You forgot the ones living in Quan Sah’s estate. I need those too.”
“Unfortunately, those are out of the council’s jurisdiction.”
“They’re our people.” She was not containing her rage. “They need to be included! Their children need to be tested!”
“Out of the question.” His forced calm did nothing to assuage her. By now, Sali was aware that another squad had formed up at the end of the bridge behind her. “The council provided what we could, but the general’s personal servants are off-limits.”
“Even for the ruling Council of Nezra?”
“And even for Soul Seekers and viperstrikes,” he affirmed. “Interfering with the Zhuun general will cause many problems for our people.”
Sali glared at the former defensechief with contempt. “How many children live there, Ariun? How many possible Khans are you asking me to overlook?”
“I do not know. It’s none of my business at this time, and it is none of yours. The council forbids you from getting involved with the general’s servants. It will cause trouble for the people.”
“It is absolutely the business of a Soul Seeker.” Sali reached for her tongue.
The guards at both ends of the bridge closed in. Ariun did not bother reaching for the weapon hanging off his waist. He crossed his arms and dared her to strike. “Is this what it comes down to, Viperstrike? Will you now spill the blood of your own people?”
“If I must,” she growled.
The seconds ticked by. Deep inside, Sali knew that Ariun had successfully called her bluff. As much as she blustered, inflicting violence upon her own people was beneath her. That was not why she had come to Jiayi. This was not a measure she was willing to take. With a snarl, she turned and stormed back the way she had come.
“What will you do now, Salminde?” Ariun called after her.
“I will cause trouble,” she replied, without looking back. The guards parted, giving her a wide berth. None were foolish enough to make a move.
Sali glanced at Hampa as she passed. “Still want to be a viperstrike? Come along.” A moment later, her new neophyte, spearless and helmetless, fell in beside her. His face was bright and eager as a puppy’s as he marched alongside her out of the estate.
“I won’t let you down, Viperstrike,” he exclaimed, trying to keep up with her pace. “By Nezra I will make you proud.”
Sali gave him a sidelong glance and groused. “You could have at least kept your spear.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
SAND SNAKE
In hindsight, Taishi probably should have heeded Zofi’s advice and set sail after the winds had died down.
Her first journey in a sand sleigh on the fine, granular surface of the Sand Snake was indeed a memorable one. That was good because she never wanted to do it again. No sooner had they pulled out of the tunnel exit of the Peasant Docks than the howling winds caught the sail and swept Zofi’s little bathtub sleigh spinning out of control into the churn of the rolling dunes, like a true ocean storm tossing a fishing boat around.
Unlike many war artists who had put forth tremendous effort to maintain a stoic expression at all times, Taishi suffered no qualms about vocalizing her feelings, and she preferred those under her to do the same. It was better to show fear than false courage. A soldier who showed fear—in moderation—was an alert and sharp soldier, and more likely to follow orders. Someone who was busy acting brave was preoccupied with the wrong thing.
That was why, as their little sleigh dropped several stories in near free fall down the side of the first dune in the Sand Snake, Taishi felt completely free to scream herself hoarse. Zofi, who was also screaming, albeit from an altogether different emotion, pulled on the rudder, and the sleigh caught an edge as it barreled down the bowl of the dune. As it passed the bottom and began to climb up the other side, two rolling waves, each as tall as buildings, crashed together, forming a giant wave that blotted out the sky ahead of them. Taishi’s screams intensified as the new mountain of sand began to topple over, showering them. For some inexplicable reason, Zofi continued to steer the sleigh toward it.
Taishi tugged at the girl’s sleeve, her voice quiet with terror. “Are you trying to get us killed, you suicidal idiot?”
Zofi replied with a whoop that sounded strangely like a mix between a war cry and a giggle as sand and air spit in their faces. Just as the Slidewinder was about to go vertical, she banked sharply, causing the sleigh to surf sideways along the wave as it curved and fell over them.
Taishi went back to screaming and screaming, and screaming some more until her voice got hoarse and she got a little bored. After the adrenaline had fled her body, she realized that everything—the sleigh, the sands, the winds—were actually moving pretty slowly. It felt terrifying only while they were in the thick of it. Zofi howled triumphantly as a strong gust caught the sails and shot the sleigh like a crossbow bolt out from under the wave and onto the next swell.
The Slidewinder repeated this pattern several more times before eventually escaping the turbulent, undulating dunes and hitting a stretch of calm desert. The tall cliffs of Sanba soon disappeared, completely enveloped by the giant dust clouds that bubbled into the sky. Taishi allowed herself to breathe and moved to the rear of the tub. She studied the wake pattern kicked up by the Slidewinder’s hull. Soon all the markers shrank into tiny blemishes on the horizon, leaving her feeling small and alone in this expansive ocean of sand.
Zofi never looked worried, and guided the sleigh through both the rough churn out of Sanba and now across the calm expanse with complete confidence. The girl was a skilled sailor and steered with a soft touch, knowing exactly how to coax the most wind out of the sails. Under her control, the Slidewinder moved toward the southern horizon with an easy grace.
Taishi was reasonably sure by now that their lives were safe in the mapmaker’s daughter’s hands. “How did you learn to sail so well?”
Zofi loosened the lines and retied them. “There’s not much else to do for fun in Sanba besides surfing.” Satisfied, she relaxed, sitting down and stretching her legs across the length of the boat, her feet sticking over the side. She leaned back and eyed the evening sky. “I used to dream of running my own caravan someday. Getting out of the caves and out under the Celestial ceiling.”
Taishi grunted, settling down beside Zofi but still hugging the mast tightly. “You southerners have a strange sense of leisure.”
“Try living in a cave your entire life.”
Taishi glanced at the last desert clouds disappearing in the distance. “Will we encounter more storms?”
“Hopefully not, with luck. The waves are always roughest near solid land, and especially bad around Sanba because of the sand waves breaking against the cliffs.”
“Just like the ocean,” remarked Taishi, thoughtfully. “How does a place like this even exist?”
