Sword and Verse (27 page)

Incensed at Lanea's sad compliance, Gyotia sought the fierce arms of Lila more and more often. And each time he lay with her, the power of their coupling brought war upon the land.

THIS TIME I
was careful to stand back when I visited Soraya Gamo.

“Jonis is letting you go,” I told her.

She snorted. “You speak as if I can tell them apart.”

“Jonis,” I said slowly, “is the leader. The one who could have killed you but didn't.”

“And why would he let me go?”

“Because I asked him to. Killing a prisoner is what Qilarites would do. We are better than that.”

Her head jerked up at the word “we.” She studied me, and I knew what she was seeing: a pale face framed by wavy auburn hair, worn loose around my shoulders for the first time in ages.

I cleared my throat. “There's one condition. You will deliver this to the king.” I flipped a scroll across the room; it landed a foot away from her.

Slowly she reached out and lifted it by the edges. “Is this a trick?” she spat.

“Read it yourself.” I stepped closer, holding up the torch so she could see.

With a wary glance at me, she unrolled the scroll. I worked to keep my face blank as she read the letter I had composed in the lower order symbols that morning.

            
Mati—

            
I know about the raiders. I wondered, at first, how you could break your promise to me. Then I realized: I know who you are, no matter how I have deluded myself in the past. My feelings now are like a stone hung around my neck, one I will never remove.

            
So go marry Soraya Gamo and be the king. And I, too, will be who I am. I will join my people. Our paths will not cross again until the gods read the scrolls.

Good-bye.

Raisa

Jonis believed the letter would convince the Scholars Council that I'd abandoned Mati. But would Mati see the hidden message? I could only hope that he'd be more willing to believe in me than I had been to believe in him.

Soraya finished reading, but I could tell from the set of her jaw that she still wasn't convinced.

“Were you there when they decided to send the raiders?” I asked, working to keep my voice from shaking.

She nodded smugly. I looked away, longing to ask what had made Mati agree. But if Soraya realized that I still loved Mati, it could blow the whole plan apart.

I was saved when Soraya spoke. “Why would this . . . Jonti . . .”

“Jonis.”

She waved this off, her chains clanking. “Why would he let me go, because you asked?”

I shrugged. “Being Tutor means something to the Arnathim.”

“You're not a Tutor anymore. And I don't want your pity.”

“You don't have it.” I gestured to Adin and Tomis, hovering in the doorway. “Take her out.”

Soraya cringed, but they only unlocked the manacles and heaved her up by the arms. I backed into the corridor and set the torch in a sconce as they led her out.

“How's your mission of mercy going?” said a wry voice behind me. “She bitten you yet?”

I turned to find Jonis lounging against the wall, arms crossed. Soraya craned her neck to look at me, but I ignored her.

“No biting. She can be civilized. You might try it sometime,” I said.

Jonis laughed as if I'd said something dear and clever, and then stepped close and swept me into a kiss. I stiffened, but his hands gripped my waist, his mouth hard on mine.

I registered the sounds of Soraya and the guards clattering
up the stairway, and I shoved Jonis with all my might. He broke away, laughing.

“Was that really necessary?” I hissed, wiping my mouth.

He smirked. “Her story'll be more convincing with visual details.”

I stomped away down the corridor; Mati didn't need any more reasons to doubt me. Jonis caught up with me and grabbed my sleeve. “You shouldn't wander in those lower tunnels. Some are caved in.”

I hesitated. I had crept down there the day before, looking for the hidden room full of writing I'd seen two days ago, but I hadn't been able to find it. I'd tried to tell Jonis about the ancient carvings I had found there, but he'd been too full of plans to listen.

I changed the subject. “Do you really think this will work?”

He grinned. “As it depends on Qilarites believing that we're lazy, stupid, and disorganized, it ought to go just fine.”

He was right. I crouched beside him on the slope above the Valley of Tombs two days later, watching the king's guards and the Gamo army attack the token force we'd left in the Royal Tomb building.

“Soraya thought that
we
thought she didn't know where she was being held?” I asked. “How did you know that would happen?”

Jonis was tracking the battle below so anxiously that I was surprised when he actually answered me. “She'd have to see us as equals to believe we could use strategy. She's incapable of that. Most Qilarites are.”

“Mati's not.”

“Doesn't matter. If he wants to fight for our side when we get there, maybe we won't kill him.”

I cringed at his matter-of-fact tone.

“It was a good plan, Jonis,” said Deshti on his other side, smiling up at him. She wore a ruffled green dress today, and had come up from the city as soon as the guards had started marching toward the Valley of Tombs. I had learned that her mistress, the portly Qilarite I'd seen in the market, doted on her like a loving aunt, even passing on her own gowns for Deshti to alter and dye. Deshti could come and go as she liked, and, because her mistress's shop supplied the candles that burned all night outside the tombs, she always had a plausible reason to visit the Valley of Tombs. She made sure to get back to the shop before curfew—but only because her mistress worried about her.

Below, the guards drove the last of the ragtag Resistance fighters into the Royal Tomb. Soldiers shoved the giant doors closed and piled wood in front. A tall figure in a white robe walked down from the back of the group, and the guards gave way. Penta Rale's high forehead shone as he set fire to the wood. The soldiers laughed, enjoying, no doubt, the image of the Resistance fighters trapped inside, helpless against the stone door swelling shut with the heat.

“I saw Talin wounded, but Adin was helping him. Ranal too, but he might have been faking it.” Jonis's voice was low, his eyes trained on the escape tunnel in the copse below.

A few minutes later, we saw them emerging from the tunnel, then moving silently into the trees and up the mountain. Jonis counted under his breath as the men exited, and when they
stopped coming, he continued to watch expectantly. At last a big man—I recognized Adin's thick beard—exited the tunnel and reached back to help another man crawl out. Adin looked up at the ridge and shook his head. Jonis swore.

“Talin didn't make it?” asked Deshti shrilly.

Jonis didn't answer; his teeth seemed to be clenched too tightly together for speech. This strategy had been his, and he'd wanted to be down there, but the others had insisted he sit it out.

I touched his shoulder timidly. “Thank the gods it was only one.”

“The gods have nothing to do with it,” he snapped. He dropped to the ground and scuttled back over the ridge to the other side.

Deshti was at his side by the time I heaved myself to my feet and followed them down the rocky path.

“It
is
a good plan, Jonis,” she said. “There's something else I came to tell you. They're talking about it all over the city. It was the big news until the guards started marching.”

Jonis sighed. “What news?”

Deshti looked at me triumphantly. “That the royal wedding will be happening at First Shining, just like it was originally planned.”

After his mother was imprisoned, Aqil made his home in the great library, ordering it to his liking. It pleased him to take charge of the scrolls of the world and burn those he found unworthy. The other gods avoided the library altogether; this suited Aqil, for he guarded jealously the sacred knowledge that Gyotia had given him.

CROUCHED INSIDE A
giant urn was hardly the way I thought I would return to the palace. I hugged my knees, hips curved at an awkward angle to accommodate the wool-swathed daggers beside me. I ached to move, but doing so might upset the balance of the urn and cause the two Arnathim carrying it—Adin and Tomis—to drop me.

The urn was plain enough not to be recognized as a funeral offering for a long-ago king. I heard Ranal, in the haughty tones of a Qilarite servant showing off to his master's slaves, producing papers for whichever scribe had been assigned the task of documenting the wedding offerings. Apparently Ranal's black hair and olive skin fooled the guards and the scribe, because the urn was soon swaying along again.

The Resistance had been moving into place over the last four days. Scholars from all over Qilara had been sending slaves to
assist with the wedding, some on loan, others gifts for the royal couple. The slaves were being housed in the palace outbuildings, and many of our people had been able to slip in among them, their presence explained away by the accompanying papers from their masters—all forged by me. Jonis hoped that, once inside, they could quietly recruit the other slaves. More of our people waited in the crowds outside the palace gates, ready to strike when Anet, stationed in the tower, tolled the bell three times at his signal.

Things had gone well so far—but why shouldn't they? The council believed that the remnants of the Resistance were trapped, starving in the airless underground tombs. Rale had even held a special service to praise Aqil for his assistance in crushing the blasphemous Resistance. Kiti had slipped away to tell us about it one night. He'd said, with an apologetic glance at me, that the entire council had attended, along with the king and the queen-to-be, and that all seemed in high spirits, looking forward to the wedding.

I wondered, not for the first time, what Mati was thinking. Did he believe I had abandoned him?

I knew that the only reason I hadn't been left behind today was that Jonis planned to use me to ensure Mati's cooperation. But I had no intention of being Jonis's pawn. Once in the palace, I'd be on familiar ground. I'd spent three sleepless nights wondering what to do with that advantage. I'd be useless in a battle, and which side would I fight for, anyway?

So I would find Mati and we'd get away. Keeping him safe was my first priority, and I didn't trust either side to do that.

The urn tipped and swayed, and at last was set down. I knew
where we were from the glimpses of friezes I could see by the ceiling—in the council chamber, though today it would act as a giant altar where wedding guests could make their offerings to the various gods in honor of the royal couple.

The wedding would begin in the garden at fourth bell, and it had to be nearly third bell now. I was supposed to wait for Jonis to come for me; surely Adin or Tomis was lurking outside, ready to grab me if I tried to escape before that. Though I had taught them the language of the gods and provided forgeries for them, they still didn't trust me.

Luckily I had other ways to get where I needed to go.

As soon as all was silent, I pressed against the sides of the urn and stood. The lip of the urn was above my head, but I mashed the bundle of daggers down and stood on it, pulling myself up to peer over the lip.

A veiled Scholar noblewoman knelt on the prayer rug, her forehead pressed to the floor. I crouched and waited, hardly breathing, until I heard footsteps leaving the room. When I looked again, the room was deserted, but the number of jewels, chests, urns, and other offerings attested to the presence of many wedding guests. Most of the urns had been sent by the Resistance, and held daggers and swords. Jonis had told me to take my pick of weapon, but as my skill with a sword was questionable at best, I'd selected only a short knife.

I rocked the urn so that it leaned against the nearest wall, then scrambled out and steadied it before it shattered on the tiles. I didn't bother to look at the open doors as I darted across the room. If someone spotted me, I'd know it soon enough.

Ducking into the corner, I ran my fingers along the decorative molding. Mati had told me about this passage, but I'd never used it before, and my nerves frayed as my fingers searched for the hidden latch. If a Scholar happened to come in and look to the right, I was doomed.

I wiped my sweaty palms on my trousers, then forced myself to pass my fingers slowly over every inch of the molding. And—Jonis would have laughed—my mind automatically slipped to prayer.
Gyotia, greatest of the gods, lend me your might. Aqil, patron of Scholars, grant me your wit. Suna, goddess of memory, guide me. Qora, god of the fields, fill me with your strength. Lanea, goddess of the home—

Something moved under my fingers, and the wall before me swung silently forward, revealing a patch of shadow beyond. Gratefully I tumbled inside and clicked the door shut behind me.

I groped along the dark passage, heart pounding, nearly tripping when I came to shallow stairs. I lost all sense of direction—was I under the entrance hall or near the kitchens? The passage opened at last onto another. I chose a direction at random and came to a familiar door behind a tapestry: the exit near the dungeons. Which meant that if I followed this passage up to the other end, it would lead me to the Library.

I ran back up the passage, and I could have sworn that the stone around my neck grew warm as I swung the panel open.

The Library looked the same—except that I'd rarely been there on sunny days, so the shafts of sunlight striping the rugs seemed out of place.

Mati sat on the bench. My breath whooshed out of me at the
sight of him, beautiful in a white and gold tunic, a thin golden circlet gleaming in his dark hair, a sword at his hip. He looked up at the sound of the door, and was across the room, his arms around me, before I could speak.

“You came,” he murmured into my neck. I heard the relief in his voice and vowed never to give him reason to doubt me again. “Thank the gods you're safe.”

I didn't get to respond because his lips were on mine. The warm stone pressed against my chest. I broke away from his kiss and adjusted it.

I heard a low humming. I looked around, but saw nothing unusual—just the desk and the wooden tablet case at the center of the room. My eyes lingered on the case, until Mati's voice jolted me back.

“You did it! You got them to agree.”

“I didn't,” I confessed sadly. “Mati, they didn't come to help you.”

“I don't understand. Your letter said—”

“I know. I was afraid you'd think . . . but you understood the message.”

“Not at first. I got the part about the stone, but Rale, of all people, made me see the rest. He got quite a laugh out of you forgetting the ‘out' in ‘until the gods read out the scrolls.' But I knew you wouldn't be that careless, and then I remembered how we used to joke about the gods doing their reading at third bell. So I've been coming here at this time every day. Gods, if I'd had to go through with this wedding—” He smoothed my hair away from my face. “Raisa, what's happening?”

My throat felt tight, and the humming in my ears was growing louder. I spoke over it. “The Resistance plans to take the palace. Jonis will give the signal in the middle of the wedding. Mati, I thought they might agree to help, but then the news came about . . . the raiders.”

Mati gripped my hand, watching my face as he spoke. “Don't you know, Raisa, that there was only one way the Scholars Council could have made me agree to that? Rale saw it, and you're much smarter than he ever was.”

I thought hard, and, with a shudder, I did see it. “That was the compromise? So they wouldn't execute me?”

Mati nodded. “Those raiders never went to the Nath Tarin, though. I gave them maps that would lead them straight to the wastelands of Illana.”

I buried my face in his shoulder in relief. I'd been right to trust him. Despite my failures, my heart sang. “We've got to get out of here,” I said into his tunic. It was what I had come to do—get Mati and get as far away as possible—so why did I suddenly yearn to stay in the Library? The pull of this place was as strong as it had been in my dreams at the tombs, and my ears buzzed dizzily with it.

Mati didn't answer right away. I lifted my head and looked at him. “I don't think Rale ever intended to let me live long after the wedding,” he said. “Once Soraya is queen, they don't need me.”

“Jonis would rather use you as a bargaining chip than kill you . . . I hope . . . but Mati, I don't see what we can do.” I squeezed his hand. “I won't lose you again.”

Mati took a shaky breath. “Run or die. Are those the only choices?”

My stomach hurt with how much I'd let him down. The buzzing in my ears was nearly deafening. “We've got to go, Mati,” I practically shouted.

He nodded and pulled me toward the passage. I had to work to hear him over the noise in my ears, and every step felt strained, as if something held me back.

“There's a ladder up to the observation tower. We can climb down over the Adytum from there,” said Mati. “We'll swim around to the docks, find something bound for Galasi. We've got to leave the city before Gamo's reinforcements from Emtiria arrive. Tell me you can swim, Raisa.”

But I had frozen, staring at him. One word had broken through the din in my mind. “Reinforcements?”

He turned to face me. “Yes, Gamo's made a deal with Emtiria. He thinks I don't know, but the emperor sent an emissary to me—thought he might squeeze money out of both sides. Only I don't have any.” He sighed. “Gamo's got ten thousand soldiers coming through the pass this afternoon. He's probably timing their arrival with my assassination.”

My head pounded. “Jonis doesn't know about the Emtirians . . . even if the Resistance wins the palace, they'll be slaughtered when the reinforcements come. We have to tell him!”

“But you just said—”

I let go of his hand to grab the stone around my neck; it was now blazing white-hot. “I know what I said!” I snapped. “But we can't just leave them to die! We have to warn them!” Despite my words, I turned back to the tablet case. The humming was inside my whole body now, inescapable, undeniable.
“Where's the key for the case?” I shouted.

“Up in my room, under—Raisa, what are you doing?”

Propelled by a force I couldn't explain, I leaped forward and ripped the tapestry off the case, then shoved my knife into the lock and rocked it back and forth. The lock popped open; I threw it aside and opened the case.

I was vaguely aware of Mati's voice behind me, but the rushing in my ears drowned him out. It roared like waves, like wind. I stared at the tablet, and my head dipped as the stone around my neck grew heavier.

I ripped the stone from its thong and laid it into the gouge at the center of the tablet.

The roaring stopped. The Library of the Gods was perfectly silent.

The edges fitted perfectly, though the broken stone had worn smooth over time. I saw now how the lost symbol sat in the center of the tablet, all the other symbols both pointing to and radiating from it.

The tablet beneath my fingers grew hot, nearly burning. I cried out as the symbols shone with a pure white light, some glowing even brighter, searing themselves into my vision.

Then the world went dark. Like the first time I had touched the tablet, my lungs compressed, unable to pull in enough air. Was I remembering the Stander again? Then why did I feel powerful, and brimming with rage?

A point of light in the distance. I squinted as it spread in lines over the stone walls of my prison. Leaping forward, I crashed through stone, and the world exploded into light around me.

Then I was standing on the shore, perfectly balanced as the earth bucked and heaved around me. I lifted my hands and wrote a symbol in the air with my finger, and the ocean rose in a giant wave. I laughed as it crashed down around me. My mouth opened, and a strange, powerful voice came out. “I shall erase this place of hate, and with it those who imprisoned me.”

I came to myself lying on my throbbing back in the Library of the Gods, a dull roaring in my ears, the bitter aftertaste of rage in my confused mind. I rolled onto my side and gulped for air. Wood and stone and charred paper littered the floor. Birds fluttered across my vision.

I sat up and rubbed my eyes. No, not birds—scrolls, blasted from their slots and sailing about the room.

Mati lay a few feet away, covered in debris. I crawled toward him, but he was lost to my sight as golden light filled the library. It came from the place where the tablet case had been, a wide beam that lanced up at the ceiling and sent its light over the shadowed statues of the gods.

As I watched, the light moved across the wall, over the letters that remained in their slots. All at once the letters ignited, sending embers and ash through the air. Mati and I huddled together, and he beat at the sparks that landed on the sleeve of his tunic.

Then the beam of light moved on, and shone right at the face of Gyotia, set into the wall. With a deafening crack, the statue split down the middle. The earth shook as the light sped out through the great crack in the wall. Mati and I threw ourselves flat as furniture toppled around us.

A splintered piece of wood slid across the floor in front of me—a remnant of the tablet case.

“It's stopped,” said Mati. I pulled myself to my feet beside him and looked around. Brilliant sunlight flooded in through the ruined wall. The statue of Suna lay on the floor amid bits of paper and wood. The firepit, choked with blown scrolls, had gone out.