Sword and Verse (23 page)

I played with my necklace, thinking so hard that my brain seemed to hum. “So . . . you need an ally with armed men willing to fight, who might benefit from your gratitude,” I said slowly. “Someone . . . someone who has nothing to lose.”

Mati laughed grimly. “Exactly.”

I blew out a breath. “The Resistance, Mati. If they knew what Rale was doing, they wouldn't want it either.”

Mati stood up abruptly. “Are you insane? They killed my father, Raisa! You said yourself that they wanted to kill me!”

I waved this off. “Because they don't
know
you, Mati. They think you're like your father. They don't know what you've tried to do.”

Mati crossed his arms over his chest. “Then they'd never believe it, even if a messenger could find them.”

“I think . . .” I had to say it, no matter how it might blight the fragile forgiveness I had sensed growing in his heart. “
I
could find them.”

Mati stared at me. “You're unbelievable! You know we've been trying to find Soraya. If you knew where they were—”

“I don't know where they are! I just mean . . . I think I could get a message to them, is all.” I balled my hands into fists. “As for convincing them, well, that's why you have to send
me
with the message.”

He went rigid. “Absolutely not.”

“It's the only way—”

“No! I'm not putting you in danger.”

“But I already
am
in danger!
In
danger, and a danger to you if Rale finds me. Do you intend to hide me in the Library forever? Do you think Rale would hesitate to break down the doors? You've saved me over and over. Let me help you for once. I can do this. If I just explain to Jonis how things are—”

“Jonis?”

“Yes, he was my contact. He's Jera's brother, and a good man. Since he asked me to keep her safe, the least he can do is listen to what I have to say, right?”

“But if they know about us, won't they think you've betrayed
them
? I don't like this at all.”

“They won't hurt me, Mati. I'm Arnath, remember?” I had to believe this was true, if only because I had promised not to lie to Mati again.

“Rale won't stop looking for you,” he shot back.

“Which is why you'll lie to him. Tell him . . . tell him that we argued and I escaped.” I laughed. “Tell them I turned out to be just as horrid as they all think I am. If you act like you don't care, like it's over between us, they won't bother to come looking for me.”

“It won't be that easy.”

“Of course not. But it's better than sitting around waiting for Rale to come for us.” Hesitantly, I touched his cheek, and was relieved beyond measure when he didn't flinch away. “I know I haven't given you much reason to, but please, can you trust me to do this?”

Mati closed his eyes. The silence stretched out as I waited for his answer. Then he sighed, his defeated expression piercing my heart, and rested his forehead against mine.

“What choice do I have?” he whispered.

The asotis, sensing Sotia's imprisonment, would no longer drop their quills willingly for any of the gods. Aqil, enraged, built a cage atop the mountain and gathered all the asotis into it, where he bound them to his will.

SO THAT WAS
how I ended up, early next morning, crouched inside a barrel that reeked of pickled fish, rumbling along toward the docks in a cart driven by Kirol, the loyal guard who'd alerted Mati to my whipping. Minister Jin had arranged for this cargo to be delivered to Horel Stit's ship. At my insistence, Mati knew as little as possible about the plan. It was safer for him that way.

I braced myself against the sides of the rocking barrel and thought of Mati's face before I'd crept out of the Library that morning. He clearly didn't want me to go, but he saw the risk to both of us if I stayed. I'd been apprehensive—I still was—but it had been worse there in the Library, saying good-bye to him after a restless few hours of dissonant dreams, waking often with the feeling that there was an important job I ought to be doing. I was glad now to be on my way to doing it.

The cart lurched to a stop. I stood, easing the top off the barrel so I could hear what was happening outside. Eleven other
barrels crowded the goatskin-canopied cart, with mine closest to the front so it would be the last out, in case Kirol needed time to relay his message to Jonis.

“You, boy, where is your master's man, the one with curly hair? The cooper has special instructions for this shipment.” That was Kirol.

“Jonis?” squawked a boy's voice. “He did a runner a couple days ago. Master was mad, I tell you. . . .” The boy chattered on, but I didn't hear—I had slid back down to the bottom of the barrel as the entire plan fell apart around me. I had counted on Jonis being here.

A few seconds of panic was all I allowed myself before I rose and climbed out of the barrel.

“. . . only eleven,” said Kirol's voice outside as my feet thumped onto the floor of the cart. “There are twelve barrels in there, see, but one's to go to the blacksmith.” He was lying, trying to keep my barrel in the cart so that he could take me back to the palace. Surely Mati had given him orders to bring me back if something went wrong.

Sorry, Kirol
. I wasn't going back until I had found a way to help Mati out of this mess. I crept between the barrels, glad for the green tunic and trousers Jin had given me. A dress would have caught on every splinter and loose barrel stave.

“I'll show you which,” Kirol was saying, his voice rising. “Think you can lift 'em?”

“I can,” said the boy indignantly. “That's why Master moved me up after Jonis took off. I'm strong, see.”

“All right,” said Kirol with a strained laugh. Boots crunched
on stones, coming closer.

I was ready when Kirol unhooked the back panel of the cart. I leaped out, knocking the astonished boy out of my way, and ran.

“Wait!” shouted Kirol. I caught a glimpse of his face as I took off, and felt a stab of guilt that he'd have to report this to Mati, no doubt feeling that he'd failed in his mission. And what would Mati think—that I had run off, betrayed him again? But I couldn't spare another thought on that, because a moment later Kirol was after me, and I couldn't let him catch me.

I darted into an alleyway and weaved along the harbor until I came to a low wall. I scrambled over and found myself in a deserted garden, a fine white-stone house in the distance. Crouching behind a willow, I gasped quietly as the rush of my escape abated and the stiffness and pain in my back returned.

But pain didn't matter. Making contact with the Resistance was what was important; it was the only way I could help Mati fight Rale's coup.

Footsteps passed on the other side of the wall. I waited, tensed to run, but they soon faded into the distance. Was it possible? Had I lost Kirol?

I exhaled and examined my surroundings. The house wall facing me was curiously blank—but of course the windows and open terraces would have been built on the harbor side. Everything seemed so quiet that I allowed myself a few minutes to sit in the shadows and think.

How foolish I'd been to pin all my hopes on Jonis being where I'd thought he would be, and not plan for this contingency! Mati had said that Rale was continuing his investigation—had
he found something that incriminated Jonis? Was that why Jonis had finally run?

Where to now? Kiti? No, the only place I knew to find him was the Temple of Aqil. Going there was akin to walking straight into Rale's arms.

But I couldn't stay here. I crept along the wall to the gate and picked a direction at random, trying to look like I knew where I was going. I mashed my shapeless green hat down over my eyes—Jin had given it to me to hide my hair, which was now braided and pinned up out of view, but I was glad that the wide brim kept my face shadowed. Of course, that was the point of the design, to keep the hot Qilara sun off fair Arnath skin while slaves worked outdoors.

It certainly kept the few people I met on the road from looking too closely at me; their eyes slid right over the green tunic like I wasn't there. It had been a long time since I'd experienced that, and it took me back to my days running errands for Emilana Kret.

Maybe that was why my steps automatically turned toward the market. It made sense, I thought, my brain belatedly catching up with my feet. I'd seen Jonis there before. Surely, if I waited and watched, I'd find a way to get a message to him.

Seven Arnath heads stared ghoulishly from the pikes at the entrance, fresh enough that the faces were recognizable. I scanned them with my heart in my throat, but none were Jonis. I scurried away from them as a guard turned to me, and I tried to blend into the marketplace crowd.

I wandered through the haphazard stalls, examining each green-clad figure. How would I know if one was safe to approach?
What if I was recognized?

The crowd bottlenecked around a papermaker's stall. As I paused to let a man pushing a handcart come through, I caught sight of a candlemaker's stall across the way. A dark-haired girl in a lacy green dress stood behind it, talking to a boy in a green tunic. She handed him something, and he slipped away through the crowd. Then she turned and I clearly saw her pale face and dark eyes, and realized that I knew her. She'd been one of the finalists at the Selection with me, I recalled suddenly. She'd glared at me when I was chosen.

And I'd seen her, too, at the Festival of Qora fair at the palace—talking to Jonis.

The crowd moved again, an old woman muttering a curse at me as she stepped around my frozen form. I darted over to the candlemaker's stall, approaching it from the side. A portly Qilarite woman with a wide curving mouth was helping a customer at the far end. The girl, who was dipping a wick into a pot of wax, looked up at my approach; nothing in her manner said that she recognized me at all.

“You were in the Selection three years ago,” I said in a low voice. “I know you.”

She narrowed her eyes at me, dipping the wick again. “You are mistaken.”

I glanced at the Qilarite woman, who was flirting quite obviously with her customer, and stepped closer. “Do you know a man named Jonis?” I hissed. “I need to speak to him.”

She looked up quickly at Jonis's name, then turned her attention back to the wick. It went into the wax three times before she
spoke again. “I don't know what you're talking about. Unless you mean to purchase candles, you'd best move on before my mistress calls the guards.”

She knew Jonis. And I was more certain every minute that she was with the Resistance. In desperation I reached across the stall and grabbed her hand. She made an indignant sound, but I held tight and traced a symbol into her palm, the same that Jonis had traced into mine so long ago in the Temple of Aqil: a circle with lines flying up on either side. “It's urgent,” I said through gritted teeth.

“What's this? Is another boy bothering you, Deshti?” said a voice, and the Qilarite woman bustled closer. I jumped away, hiding my face under my hat.

“No, mistress,” said Deshti. I didn't hear the rest of her excuse, because I was already pushing through the crowd.

I didn't stop until I reached the fountain. I wished I hadn't come this way, near the foodsellers' stalls; my stomach was reminding me that it was past third bell and I had nothing to eat. I turned away from the mouth-watering aromas of goat meat and bread and walked down another lane, pausing at a weaver's stall—but of course Jonis's mother wasn't standing behind it. Was the sour-faced old Qilarite there responsible for beating Jera?

I continued to the last row of stalls, finding nothing that might lead me to Jonis. Dejected, I turned back, deciding to hide near the Temple of Aqil until I could make contact with Kiti. It was suicidal, but I had to try.

When I passed the candlemaker's stall again, Deshti was waiting on a veiled Qilarite noblewoman. She met my eyes, then
pointedly looked away. I followed the crowd out of the market.

I left the main road at the first alleyway, relaxing a fraction as I left the crowd on the street behind. But the silence was broken by footsteps behind me. As I turned to look back, something covered my head, and I was swept off my feet and thrown over a burly shoulder.

The asotis wept for their own captivity and that of the goddess Sotia, until their tears burned white markings into their gray feathers that remained forever after.

I SHOUTED AND
struggled, but my captor only held me more tightly. A door creaked open and I was dropped onto a hard floor. I cried out as pain seared my back. Then I was flipped over roughly, but only so that my captor could tie my wrists together behind me.

I heard a door open and close, then the floor rumbled beneath me—I was in a cart or carriage. Moving my head back and forth, I tried unsuccessfully to work the rough cloth off my face. The cloth smelled of oats—a feedsack, I realized, as my jostling sent dust up my nose and made me sneeze.

I shouted again, but the only response was the sound of my own breath, loud in my ears. Each time the cart rode over a bump, I rolled painfully onto my pinned arms—but at least that distracted me from the fire in my back, where it felt like several wounds had ripped open.

Had someone recognized me and reported me to the guards? Surely Rale would want to make a spectacle of my capture, but I could think of several reasons why he wouldn't. He'd probably
keep me well guarded, ready to torture me to keep Mati in line.

So I would have to find a way to escape; I owed that to Mati. I couldn't let anyone use me to hurt him again.

The cart bumped on for what seemed hours. When it finally rolled to a stop, I heard voices, and a door opening, and then I was heaved over a shoulder again. I didn't bother to struggle—what good would that do now? I would wait and watch.

The man who carried me breathed heavily—were we going uphill? I had no sense of how far the cart had taken me. I might be in the Valley of Qora by now.

At last I was slung to the ground. Footsteps crunched away from me. I sat up and waited, taking in the packed earth beneath my rear and silence all around.

Someone pulled the sack off my head so abruptly that it took my hat with it. I sat blinking in bright afternoon sun. My eyes watered as I tried to make out the figure above me, and I sighed in relief when I saw Jonis's curly hair.

His face was unreadable. “You wanted to speak to me?”

“Yes! I thought those men were . . . but you're not Rale, and I'm here. When that boy said you'd escaped, I thought that was it.” I was sitting on a rocky ledge backed by a wall of stone. The clouds seemed close enough to touch. In the mountains then—but I might have been anywhere along the great ridge that divided the coastal plains from the desert.

Jonis's face was like stone too.

“Could you . . . untie me please?” I said, squinting up at him.

“Not,” he said, “until you explain to me why I should. Why are you here?”

“Because I needed to talk to you,” I said impatiently. “Obviously, it's important.”

“So talk.” He stepped forward intently. “Is it Jera?”

“No, she's fine. More than fine, actually. She's charmed half the court.” I sighed bitterly. “Even made a friend of Penta Rale.”

Jonis narrowed his eyes. “There are rumors all over the city. That Rale wanted to have you whipped, and the king stopped him.”

“I
was
whipped, and Mati did stop it,” I said.

Jonis stepped back. “Then it's true, you and the king . . .”

I nodded.

Jonis was silent for a long moment, clasping his hands in front of him; I had the sense that he was reining in his anger. “Did he find out you'd helped us and toss you out?” He spoke as if he knew all about me, and all about Mati, and didn't think much of either of us.

“No. He found out I'd helped you and he protected me anyway. If you must know.”

“So you're here to spy for him? If so, your methods are . . . ineffective.”

I lifted my chin. “I've come with a message from the king. Asking for your help.”

Jonis's laughter rang from the rocks. I flushed.

“Is this a ruse, to distract me while the guards sneak up and capture me? Because I assure you, Tutor, no one is coming to save you.” His gaze traveled to the ledge a few feet away. I realized the purpose of bringing me here; if Jonis decided I was a threat, he could toss me over that cliff easily. No doubt my broken body
would lie hidden in the rocks below for years.

I closed my eyes, pushing my fear away, determined to explain so Jonis would see how important this was—to Qilara and to the Resistance. I imagined I was writing, shaping the symbols in my mind before I spoke the words. I told Jonis how Rale had meticulously built up his allies, how he had inflamed anti-Arnath sentiment despite everything Mati had tried to do, and how he was angling for the crown.

“Even if I were inclined to help, which I'm not,” said Jonis, “what makes you think I could?”

“Because you're armed, you're covert, and no one—especially Rale—will expect it. He thinks he's beaten down the Arnathim, but he's just riling them up more. Even those who haven't joined the Resistance will be sympathetic to it now, and would support Mati if you did. And . . .” I trailed off, not wanting to state the last reason out loud.

“And the fact that a Tutor is involved will sway more to either cause,” Jonis finished for me, his mouth twisting into something that was not quite a smile. “True.” He paused. “I'll consider it.”

“Will you also consider untying me?” I asked.

He laughed and produced a knife from his pocket, then bent down and cut my bonds. I rubbed my wrists, working the feeling back into them, and stretched my stiff shoulders, wincing as my tunic pulled against opened wounds.

Jonis's sharp eyes did not miss this. “Come on,” he said. “Are you hungry?”

I nodded eagerly, and Jonis led me down a narrow path so steep that I had to cling to the plants on either side to keep from
sliding down. Once Jonis even grabbed the back of my tunic to keep me upright.

I didn't realize until we emerged between two boulders that we were in a bare, rocky valley, the tops of smooth stone monuments visible over the next rise.

My mouth dropped open. “We're in the Valley of Tombs?” That carriage must have driven a meandering course to confuse me, only to deposit me in the mountains just above the City of Kings.

Jonis grinned. “Welcome to the new headquarters of the Resistance.”