The Fire Seer and Her Quradum Read online

  “I think you simply can’t control yourself,” said Bel-Sumai.

  “You say on the one hand I can’t control myself,” said Mandir, “and that on the other hand I carried out a meticulously planned murder. I didn’t kill Tufan or Yanzu, and I didn’t kill your dog ten years ago, either. All that was somebody else.”

  “Then who did kill Tufan and Yanzu?” asked Bel-Sumai.

  Since Mandir didn’t have any idea who the murderer was, if he started naming names, he ran the risk of leading Bel-Sumai to another innocent. Still, he had to propose some alternative theory or Bel-Sumai would stay stuck on the theory that Mandir was the murderer. “Taya and I are trying to figure that out. We know that Ilinos let the dogs out and that he was one of the few people who didn’t go outside to help recover them. That means he had opportunity. And we know that Runawir got into a fight with Yanzu last night and stabbed him in the arm.”

  Bel-Sumai frowned. “How do you know it was Ilinos who let the dogs out?”

  “That was Taya’s vision.”

  “Ah—we come to that at last. How does a fire vision work? Taya talked to Mother Isatis, who told her it was Ilinos?”

  “Not told,” said Mandir. “Showed. Isatis shows Taya images in the fire, silent images of things that happened in the past at that particular location.”

  Bel-Sumai’s brows rose; he seemed impressed by that. “Couldn’t she just ask for a vision that shows her who killed Tufan and Yanzu?”

  “No, because her visions are specific to the location where she calls her fire, and it appears Tufan and Yanzu were poisoned indoors. Where she is unable to scry.”

  “Hm. You have anything else to tell me?”

  “No. Taya and I are still talking to people.”

  “Tell me about your activities last night,” said Bel-Sumai. “And leave nothing out.”

  “After Taya and I left the supper table, we returned to our guest room and talked for a while. Then Setsi knocked on our door and said the dogs were loose. He wanted us to help him find them before Tufan discovered they were out, so we went outdoors and tried to round them up. We saw Runawir out there, and later we saw Setsi again, luring a dog to the pen with a piece of meat on a stick. Then we saw Tufan and you and the other guards, and since our help wasn’t needed anymore, we went back inside to our room.”

  “What then?” asked Bel-Sumai.

  Mandir shrugged. “We went to bed.”

  “Did you see anyone else while you were out there?”

  “No.”

  “Hear anything during the night?”

  “No.”

  “Do you carry any poisons with you?”

  Mandir blinked. “Only kimat, which disables magic but has no effect on the nonmagical.”

  Bel-Sumai scribbled some notes onto his tablet. “You can go, but send in your partner.”

  ∞

  Taya waited outside in the hall during Mandir’s interview with Bel-Sumai. With her partner in a position this vulnerable, she didn’t want to be physically distant from him. Now that Mandir was in trouble, it was her turn to be quradum.

  Mandir was in Tufan’s chambers with Bel-Sumai for about half an hour. When the door opened and he finally emerged, she caught his eye, hoping for some hint of how the interview had gone. He looked tense and worried, perhaps a bit downcast, which suggested the interview had not gone well.

  He took her place in the hallway, leaning against the wall, and she entered Tufan’s chambers for the second time that day. The wine cup no longer sat on the table beside Tufan’s bed, but his corpse was still on the bed, wrapped in cloth. A second guard, Bel-Apsu, sat by the window.

  Bel-Sumai gestured her to a chair.

  She sat. “Will the funeral be tonight?”

  “If Bel-Zaidu finishes the pyre in time.”

  “Would you like magical help in lighting it? There’s not a lot of dry wood around here.”

  “No,” said Bel-Sumai. “This won’t be a Coalition funeral, and I’m sure we’ll manage with the wood we’ve got. Tell me your movements last night, starting at the point where you and Mandir left the dining room.”

  Straight to business, then. Taya related to him every detail of what they’d done the night before, surmising that Mandir had been asked the same question already and that their stories would be compared. Fortunately, neither of them had any reason to lie. While Mandir’s behavior at supper had been problematic, Bel-Sumai already knew about that, and after supper neither of them had done anything wrong. Certainly they hadn’t murdered anybody.

  When she finished relating her story, Bel-Sumai picked up a tablet from a nearby table and studied it, holding it so that she couldn’t see what was written on it. “After the two of you saw Runawir outside and then Setsi, leading the dog with the meat on a stick, nobody saw Mandir again last night except for you?”

  Taya reviewed the events of last night in her head. “Correct. But I was with him the whole night.”

  “Was there a time when you were briefly separated?” asked Bel-Sumai. “Perhaps you were in the washroom, or he stepped out to fetch water.”

  “We each used the washroom briefly before bed,” said Taya. “Not long enough for the other to sneak out of the room and do anything.”

  “Do either of you carry nepenthe, or any other poisons?”

  “We carry only kimat. It disables magic but has no effect on the nonmagical.”

  Bel-Sumai frowned. “I see.”

  Taya clasped her hands, feeling self-conscious and more than a little nervous. Bel-Sumai would consider Mandir’s behavior at supper suspicious and damning; he was not going to take seriously her testimony that he’d been with her all evening, given that they were partners and would naturally close ranks around one another. On top of that, she feared Bel-Sumai was blinded by old prejudices. “There’s something you should know about Mandir. He’s changed a lot since he was a boy in this household.”

  “Do you think so?” Bel-Sumai’s eyes narrowed. “Unlike you, I knew Mandir as a boy. He was violent and cruel, beating the younger boys and playing pranks on the older ones. He killed my dog out of sheer vindictiveness.”

  “He didn’t kill the dog, but I’m not going to argue with the rest of what you say,” said Taya. “It’s true that he used to be cruel. He’s not anymore.”

  Bel-Sumai sniffed. “Your loyalty blinds you. Look at what he’s done over the past couple of days! Beaten a younger boy, called out some older ones. And maybe killed two men out of vindictiveness.”

  “Mandir didn’t kill anybody,” said Taya.

  Bel-Sumai lowered his voice, as if to confide. “I don’t know if you and Mandir are lovers or just business partners, but my advice to you is to find another partner, and quickly. The boys from this house aren’t normal—and they never will be. They’re scarred by the things Tufan has done. That man over there...” He jerked his chin at the corpse. “That man may be a prince of the realm, but he’s human garbage and so are his children. He’s made them that way.”

  “How do you explain Setsi and Nindar?” asked Taya. “They’re not violent or cruel.”

  “Those boys are young enough not to have solidified in their habits,” said Bel-Sumai. “A few more years here and they’d be as bad as the others. They’re lucky to be escaping.”

  Taya was hoping he’d fall into that trap. “Mandir was the same age as Setsi when he left. As you say—he was young enough not to have solidified in his habits.”

  Bel-Sumai scowled. “Here we come to matters of character. Setsi is a principled boy, always has been. When Mandir was his age, he was already rotten fruit. And he still is.”

  “I did, in fact, know Mandir at the age of thirteen,” said Taya, “because that’s how old he was when he came to the Coalition. And he was just as you described. But the Coalition put a stop to his misbehavior. Mandir served a Year of Penance for his crimes, which changed him forever.”

  “From what I saw yesterday, he hasn’t changed at all.”

 
“He has,” said Taya. “But Mandir is under an incredible amount of stress just being here. The Coalition asked him to return to the childhood home where he was neglected and abused and to confront the people who terrorized him. Knowing that, are you so shocked that he erupted in anger? I would be shocked if he didn’t.”

  “Then why attack Ilinos, a boy he barely knew?”

  “Because he saw himself in Ilinos,” said Taya. “He saw the boy he used to be, whom he now hates, and he lost his head. Still, he’s no murderer. I was with him all evening. I can tell you with absolute certainty that he did nothing. And I think it’s time you forgave him for what you perceive as his sins of the past.”

  “I’ll take that into consideration,” said Bel-Sumai. “Now let’s move on. Tell me about your fire visions.”

  Chapter 21

  The sun went down as Mandir waited for Taya to finish her interview with Bel-Sumai. She’d been in there longer than he had. He’d assumed Bel-Sumai would ask her the same questions, and there was no reason Taya’s answers should be much longer than his. They had to be discussing something else.

  His stomach growled. The household had made no arrangements for supper. Shala apparently wasn’t cooking, and Mandir couldn’t blame her. She’d only done the household’s work because Tufan had forced her to, and now there was no Tufan.

  None of his brothers would volunteer for the job. One of the many shortcomings of Tufan’s household was that the higher-status boys dumped the work onto the lower-status boys and the women, and because of that dynamic, a culture had developed in the household that work was shameful. Work was for the weak.

  He’d grown up with that attitude himself, but had changed his tune quickly after joining the Coalition. In the Coalition, only the hardest-working students were carried over from year to year, eventually becoming the high-status illitu, while the lazy ones were dropped and became the lower-ranking kinatu. It was constantly impressed upon the initiates that everyone needed to do their part to keep the organization strong. In the Coalition, work wasn’t for the weak; it was for the important.

  He’d been further enlightened when he served his Year of Penance with Neshi in the city of Rakigari. There he learned that the idea of honest work, honorable work, was not limited to the Coalition but was endemic everywhere in the river valley except at Tufan’s household. Then he had truly understood that his father’s household was an aberration.

  His brothers had yet to learn that lesson, which meant a cooked meal wasn’t going to happen unless someone forced Ilinos or Setsi or Nindar to prepare it. He and Taya would be fine without any sort of formal supper; from the start, they’d planned to survive on hardtack and jerky. Still, there might be some drama among his brothers as their stomachs’ plaints grew harder to ignore.

  The scrape of the bar lifting woke him from his thoughts. The door opened, and Taya emerged from Tufan’s chambers. He collected her, and they walked to the guest room in silence. Once there, he shut the door and checked the window again for eavesdroppers. “How did it go? He kept you for a while.”

  “As well as could be expected,” said Taya. “We covered a lot of ground. But I think he’s looking for a reason to accuse you.”

  “I got that impression too. And I’m sorry you’re being put through this.” Mandir fetched some jerky and hardtack from the saddlebags.

  Taya made a face. “That stuff again?”

  Mandir bit off a piece of jerky and chewed. “It beats yesterday’s supper with the drama and beatings.”

  “True.” She sat down at the table and bit a piece off her own strip of jerky. “Who shall we talk to next?”

  “Nindar, maybe,” said Mandir. “But the sun’s gone down, and we may need to attend the funeral.”

  Someone knocked on the door, and Mandir went to answer it. Nindar stood in the doorway, with Setsi behind him. “We were just talking about you.”

  Nindar wrung his hands. “Something’s happened.”

  Wordlessly, Mandir stepped aside to invite the boys in.

  Nindar and Setsi crossed the threshold but went no farther. “I brought the horses in at sunset, like always,” said Nindar. “But Anise, the black gelding, was missing. I went to get a bridle so I could get on another horse and search for Anise, but it turned out there was a bridle missing too. And a saddle.”

  Taya got up from the table and joined them near the door. “Someone fled the household, and I’ll bet it was Shala.”

  “That’s what we think,” said Setsi. “Nobody’s seen her since morning.”

  Taya frowned. “Riding can’t be easy for a woman so late in pregnancy.”

  “She’s desperate,” said Mandir. Shala must have believed Bel-Sumai was going to accuse her of the murders, and as the person who had poured Tufan’s wine that night, she had no means of defending herself from that accusation.

  Mandir was glad she’d escaped. It lightened his heart to think of her miles away from here, turning her horse’s head toward home.

  “I don’t know what to do,” wailed Nindar. “I can’t hide it for long, the fact that we’ve got a missing horse. At some point, somebody is going to notice.”

  “Just tell the guards about it,” said Taya. “You did nothing wrong.”

  Mandir blinked. His mind, like Nindar’s, had gone straight to thinking up ways to conceal the fact that the horse had been stolen. But that was because he’d grown up here and knew that was how this household worked. Woe betide anyone who brought bad news to Tufan; the prince always blamed the messenger. But Tufan was not normal. The guards seemed more reasonable. Since Nindar had done no wrong, he should simply confess what he’d seen.

  Nindar grimaced—he clearly didn’t like her answer.

  “Taya is right,” said Mandir. “Tell the guards—they won’t be angry with you. I know Tufan flies into a rage when people bring him bad news, but he’s dead now, and when you leave this place and go out into the real world, you’re going to learn that most people don’t act like that. You and Setsi and all of us who grew up here are like plow blades so deep in our ruts that we can’t see anything beyond the walls of muck surrounding us. But there’s a bigger world out there. I’ve been there, and you’ll be there too, soon enough.”

  “We’ll tell him,” said Setsi. “Thank you.”

  ∞

  A little later, Ilinos arrived to tell them the funeral was starting. Mandir didn’t want to attend, but his absence would be conspicuous. He changed into his formal green silks, as did Taya. Taya neatened her hair, taking it down from the headdress and putting it back up, and slid on her best silver bracelets. Mandir shaved and splashed water on his face and hands.

  “Anything I should look for at the funeral?” asked Taya. “Suspicious behavior?”

  Mandir shrugged. “Nothing I can think of.”

  They headed through the darkness toward the river. Someone was waving a torch about, and by its light and the faint moonlight, Mandir could just make out the two rectangular funeral pyres, a large, elaborate one for Prince Tufan, and a smaller one for Yanzu. As he neared the pyres, he saw that the man holding the torch was Bel-Sumai. He was gesticulating with his torch hand as he talked to Runawir. Bel-Zaidu was with him. The other two guards were not present.

  Mandir spotted Shardali nearby and spoke to him. “Where are the other guards?”

  “Bel-Apsu is g-guarding the house,” said Shardali. “And Bel-Ditana r-rode out a little w-while ago. To find Shala.”

  Apparently Nindar and Setsi had shared their information about the missing horse with the guards. “Bel-Ditana went after Shala just now? At night?”

  Shardali nodded.

  Mandir looked up at the moon. It had been half full last night, and tonight it was shy of half. Not much light for a search, but perhaps the guards felt they had to try to run her down now, because if they waited until morning, they’d never catch her.

  Which was just as well. Mandir didn’t think she was the murderer, and he hoped Bel-Ditana didn’t find her.<
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  The funeral was rather sparsely attended. The household’s numbers were depleted now, with two people dead and two having left the property. All his remaining brothers were present, but there weren’t as many of them as there once were. He saw only one person he didn’t immediately recognize, and remembered after a moment that it was the tutor.

  The tutor stood apart from the others, shivering and hugging himself.

  That was odd. The sun hadn’t been down long enough for the day’s heat to bleed off, and it was arguably a bit warm out, not cold at all. Mandir frowned. Could his shivering be an effect of too much alcohol?

  “We’re ready,” called Bel-Sumai.

  Everyone turned to the pyres. For the thousandth time, Mandir thanked the Mothers he’d gotten out of this place when he did. This was what the funeral of a hated man looked like, sparsely attended by people who didn’t want to be there and who weren’t grieving.

  “Mother Agu, Mother Lalan, and Mother Isatis,” began Bel-Sumai. “We return to you these men, your children, who can no longer be sustained here on Earth. We pray that you take them to your breast.”

  Runawir, who was assisting in the rites, sprinkled Tufan’s body and then Yanzu’s with purified water, an invocation to Mother Agu. Then he flung a handful of flower petals over each, invoking Mother Lalan.

  “Make your offerings,” said Bel-Sumai.

  A line formed, and Mandir placed himself at the end of it. As each brother approached the pyre, he bowed his head before Runawir, who reached forward and cut a lock from his hair. The brother then dropped the lock on Tufan’s body. This symbolized that part of him went with the dead man.

  When Mandir reached the head of the line, he said to Runawir, “I’ll do it,” and took the knife himself. It was a different knife than the one which had bloodied Yanzu. He cut a lock of hair from his head, dropped it onto the pyre, and returned the knife. He would not make an offering to Yanzu. He’d honor his hated father because it was expected of him, and because Tufan had given him life and for that Mandir owed him a modicum of respect. He felt no such obligation toward Yanzu.