The Fire Seer and Her Quradum Read online

  “I’m shaking because I haven’t had any at all, not since Bel—” He caught himself. “I mean, since the vial mysteriously disappeared from my quarters.”

  “You’re missing the point,” said Mandir. “You have, unbeknownst to yourself, been weaning yourself off the drug for several days. You’re in the worst of the withdrawal sickness right now, but you’re almost through it. You’re going to feel better soon. If you go to Neshi’s, he can help you to fill the holes in your soul and stop the cravings.”

  Gadatas shook his head. “It’s too sudden. I need to wean myself off it slowly. I haven’t had any at all today! I can reduce the dosage a little bit at a time. I swear I’ll stop taking it, and I’ll go to Neshi’s. Only return the vial to me so I can manage this on my own.”

  Mandir was tired of this conversation. He raised his hand and hurled first one vial and then the other into the river. He heard the tinkle of shattering clay as they broke, spilling their contents into the rushing water.

  Gadatas cried out in horror. Flinging his waterskins to the ground, he ran to the water’s edge and waded into the river. But it was hopeless. The nepenthe was forever lost. He lowered his head in grief.

  “If you want to go to Neshi’s, meet us at the stable when the sun is halfway down,” Mandir called to him.

  He waited for a response, but Gadatas only stared at the river.

  Mandir took Taya’s hand, and they headed up the bank.

  ∞

  The compound had become a whirlwind of activity. Glancing at the stable, Mandir saw that some of the newly arrived palace guards had removed their horses from the corral and were saddling them. Clearly they meant to be on the road before sundown. Probably Bel-Sumai and the other three resident guards would go with them.

  Two wagons had been wheeled up to the main house. Guards were making trips to and from the wagons, loading them. Some carried heavy chests packed with Tufan’s personal items while others hauled pieces of gold-leaf furniture on their backs. Bel-Ditana must have won his argument with Bel-Sumai about the furniture, now that they had a second wagon, more horses, and more men to help.

  Soon the house would be thoroughly stripped. Mandir’s brothers could try squatting here for a while, but they’d have to leave when they ran out of food. The land here was no good for agriculture and the river useless for sustained fishing. Game from the nearby woods might stave off starvation, but not for long.

  The guards would be traveling together, and he and Taya would have their own entourage: Setsi and Nindar for sure, and maybe Gadatas. Which left three brothers—Runawir, Shardali, and Ilinos—whose fates were unknown.

  Mandir had no interest in further contact with Runawir or Shardali. But the case of Ilinos nagged at him. The boy was no older than sixteen. Where would he go?

  Left to their own devices, Runawir, Shardali, and Ilinos would probably travel together. For all their arrogance and bluster, they had to be terrified of what lay ahead. Since Mandir knew each of them personally, it was easy for him to predict the dynamic that would develop. Runawir would lead the group with Shardali as his obsequious and pandering second-in-command. Ilinos would be the group’s scapegoat, blamed for all ills and made to do all the undesirable work.

  For all that Mandir hated Ilinos, part of him felt sorry for the boy and didn’t want that to be his fate. Ilinos was the boy he’d likely have grown into if he hadn’t been yanked out of Tufan’s household at the age of thirteen. Perhaps when you’ve learned how to forgive others, you will be ready to forgive yourself, Neshi had said. Mandir knew his hatred for Ilinos stemmed from hatred of himself. Ilinos represented the snotty, nasty adolescent Mandir had once been, or could have been, and which the adult Mandir wanted to soundly beat to a pulp.

  How juvenile he had behaved with Ilinos. How selfish and stupid.

  “Taya,” he said as they entered the main house, “you go on to the guest room. I’ll catch up.”

  She looked up at him with concern. “Why?”

  “I need to do something,” he said. “Neshi would shame me if I didn’t. I’ll tell you about it later.”

  “Ah,” she said. “Do what you need to do, then.”

  Taya went to the guest room and Mandir turned down a different hallway.

  He found Ilinos in his quarters, sitting on the bed next to a pair of overstuffed saddlebags and surrounded by wrinkled clothes. As Mandir watched silently in the door, Ilinos tried unsuccessfully to cram another shirt into the saddlebags.

  “Want some help?” Mandir asked.

  Ilinos looked up and tensed with alarm. “What do you want?”

  Mandir saw, to his shame, that the bruising around Ilinos’s eye still hadn’t faded. Fearing his answer might scare Ilinos off, he entered the room, moving slowly so as not to appear threatening. Even so, Ilinos scooted off the bed and retreated to the opposite wall.

  Mandir took Ilinos’s place on the bed and looked into the first saddlebag. It was crammed with fabric. He found a corner of the material and pulled. The fabric belonged to a large cotton blanket, which had taken up almost the entire bag. “What’s this? A blanket in your saddlebag?”

  “I need something to sleep in,” said Ilinos.

  “It won’t fit where you’ve put it,” said Mandir. “See, you roll it up like this.” He was an expert by now at packing for long trips. He rolled the blanket, found a strap, and cinched it tight. “Carry this on the back of your saddle. See? Now you have more room.”

  When Ilinos didn’t respond, Mandir reached into the saddlebag to pull out the remaining items. The boy had no idea how to pack; he’d just stuffed his clothes in there without folding or rolling them. At the bottom of the bag, Mandir found something curious that crumbled a little in his hands. He drew it out and saw that it was a bird’s nest. “What’s this for?”

  Ilinos’s cheeks went pink. “Just something I found.”

  Mandir’s hand went deeper into the bag. This time his hand found something hard and wooden—several things. He drew them out and saw that they were woodcarvings, identifiably birds, but of amateurish quality. “Did you make these?”

  Ilinos nodded.

  Mandir bit his lip. Seeing these personal items of Ilinos’s was stirring up old memories he hadn’t touched in years. “You like birds, I take it.”

  “I like birds,” said Ilinos.

  When he’d lived here, Mandir had envied birds, which alone among all the animals had the freedom to leave at will. Birds bullied one another at times, mostly in squabbles over food, but the bullied bird could just fly away. As a boy, he had never been able to do that, and neither had Ilinos. “When I was a small child here, maybe six or seven, I found a feather. It was bright green and glossy, longer than the length of my hand.”

  “What happened to it?” asked Ilinos.

  The boy knew the right question to ask. In this household, it was hard to hold on to any treasured object. “I hid it away, but it disappeared. I don’t know where it is now.” Mandir studied the woodcarvings and picked out the one he thought looked the nicest, a fat partridge. “I think this one is your best.”

  Ilinos nodded.

  “I’m going to make a suggestion,” said Mandir. “Leave most of these things behind. Take the partridge as a memento, but once you leave this place, you are not going to want to remember your life here. I don’t.”

  Ilinos swallowed but said nothing.

  “The wonders you’re going to see in the larger world are far greater than anything you have seen here,” said Mandir. “That’s why I haven’t thought about that green feather in such a long time. It was important to me then because my life was so empty. But my life is not empty any longer.”

  “It’s different for you than me,” said Ilinos. “You went to the Coalition. I have nowhere to go.”

  Mandir didn’t have an easy answer for that. While he considered how to respond, he brushed the bird’s nest debris out of the saddlebag, shook out Ilinos’s wadded-up clothes, and began to neatly roll and pa
ck them. “What’s in the other saddlebag?”

  “More clothes,” said Ilinos.

  “What about food, are you bringing any?” asked Mandir.

  Ilinos shook his head.

  “Do you expect rabbits to run up to you and offer their throats for slitting? Run to the kitchen and get some food before it’s all gone. Dried foods only—barley, dried peas.”

  Ilinos took off at a run.

  “Get a bowl, too,” Mandir called after him. While he waited for the boy’s return, he unlatched and checked the second saddlebag, which was, as Ilinos had said, crammed with unfolded clothes. Suppressing a sigh, he pulled them all out, shook out the wrinkles, and began to roll them up.

  Ilinos returned, bearing a skin of millet and a skin of barley, as well as a bowl. “There’s flour, too, but it’s fine-ground, and—”

  “Leave it. What you have will do.” Mandir nestled the three new items in between rolls of clothing.

  Ilinos, who seemed to have recovered from his fear, approached the bed and peered into the saddlebags. “Won’t I need something to cook them with?”

  “No, because I’m carrying that in my own gear,” said Mandir.

  There was a long delay as Ilinos processed his words. “But we’re not traveling together.”

  Mandir looked him in the eye. “We should. I’m inviting you. Taya and I will be traveling with Setsi and Nindar, and possibly Gadatas as well.”

  “You don’t like me,” said Ilinos.

  “No,” said Mandir. “But I have this mentor who’s helped me a lot, and he says I need to forgive my brothers for sinning against me.”

  “I haven’t sinned against you,” said Ilinos.

  “True.” Mandir felt his shame acutely. “But you remind me of the boy I used to be, so this is more about me forgiving myself.”

  Ilinos gave him a puzzled look.

  “Never mind,” said Mandir. “There are going to be rules on this trip. If you harass Nindar or Setsi in any way, you’re out of the group. This is your second chance, and there won’t be a third. But I won’t let anyone harass you, either. We’re going to act like civilized men, all of us. I know that when it comes to people like you and me, it is an act. But the more we pretend to be civilized, the closer we get to truly becoming that way. You follow?”

  Ilinos looked thoughtful. “I follow. Where are we traveling to?”

  “Rakigari,” said Mandir. “Setsi will join the Coalition temple there, and I’m hoping to find work somewhere in the city for Nindar. I can try to find work for you as well.” He glanced at the carved partridge. “Maybe you’d like to be a woodcarver.”

  Ilinos shrugged.

  “Can’t guarantee it will happen, but we’ll find you something.” Since the boy had no caste and no family to speak of, it would be hard to find anyone who’d accept him. But Neshi would help. Neshi was wonderful at that sort of thing. “What do you say—will you come with us?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” Now that the saddlebags were neatly packed, Mandir latched them closed and stood. “You’re ready. Meet us at the stable when the sun is halfway down.”

  He and Ilinos touched fingers.

  Chapter 31

  Just outside the stable doors, Mandir vaulted up onto the blood bay. Beside him, Taya mounted Soldier in what was apparently the way of the mountain people. She asked the horse to kneel, then swung her leg over his back, and let him lift her as he rose. They were a handsome pair.

  Back in Hrappa, Mandir had thought she was a fool to give up her lovely black mare, Pepper, but he was coming to think that Soldier suited her better. Soldier was a taller, lankier horse who carried her more easily. And he wasn’t as scrawny as he’d been when she’d bought him. His ribs were still visible, but his hipbones had disappeared beneath a layer of solid flesh. In another month or two, Soldier might be as fat and glossy as the blood bay.

  On the other side of the stable, the eighteen palace guards were assembling their caravan. The two wagons were now fully loaded, and the guards were sorting out Tufan’s animals. They had conferred amongst themselves and decided to give each of Tufan’s children a horse from Tufan’s stable. Mandir was glad his brothers wouldn’t be leaving empty-handed, but for the sons of a prince, who had suffered so much under his tyrannical rule, it was a sad inheritance: a horse to ride, and the clothes on their backs. None had even a bronze stick to their name, nor a caste nor a trade nor any family connections they could call upon.

  Runawir and Shardali particularly concerned him. It wasn’t just their own welfare he worried about, but the welfare of any people they encountered on their journey. Both men seemed too set in their ways to be redeemed of their sins, and he feared they would continue to do harm after leaving this place.

  As the two eldest, they’d been the first to choose from among Tufan’s horses, and they’d taken the best of the lot: Tufan’s own bay stallion and a sturdy black mare. They stood apart from everyone else, talking. Mandir supposed they could ride to civilization, sell the two horses, and live off the proceeds for a while. After that, who knew?

  Setsi trotted over to join them, mounted on his chosen animal: a quiet bay with gentle gaits. Behind him rode Nindar on the sensitive chestnut mare.

  “Did you hear what they’re going to do with the dogs?” Setsi asked.

  “Distribute them to you and your brothers?” said Mandir.

  Setsi shuddered. “Great Mothers, no. We don’t want them, and the king doesn’t either. The guards are setting them loose.”

  Mandir winced. “I suppose it’s more humane than drowning them.”

  “They might find decent hunting in that little wood,” said Taya. “If they stay away from the corobane.”

  As Mandir watched, one of the guards rode over to the dogs’ pen and unlatched the gate. The dogs poured out.

  “Hold your horses,” Mandir warned the others, tightening his hold on the reins as the blood bay threw up his head. The dogs milled about the area outside the pen, sniffing and marking. Then a pair of them headed for the river, and the pack followed. Soon all the dogs had disappeared down the bank.

  He heard hoofbeats behind him and turned to see Runawir and Shardali cantering away as a pair, traveling upriver. That was it, then. For the first time, those two men would be living their own lives, making their own way in the world. Not unlike the dogs, they’d been damaged by Tufan’s evil ways, turned feral. The only humane thing one could do was to set them free and hope they somehow found their way to a civilized life.

  The guards had a few of Tufan’s horses left at the end. Mandir watched as these were placed on long lines and ponied alongside the guards’ mounts. The guards fell into a loose formation, four of them at the front, four on either side of the wagons, and the others bringing up the rear. The men driving the wagons slapped the reins, and the caravan lurched slowly into motion, heading downriver.

  “Looks like we’re the only ones left,” said Mandir to Taya, glancing around for Ilinos and Gadatas, the only two people he hadn’t yet seen.

  He spotted Ilinos sitting a chestnut gelding thirty yards away, watching them in the manner of an outcast lurking at the edge of a tribe’s campfire.

  Mandir called to him, “Come on, then.”

  Ilinos approached cautiously.

  Taya leaned toward Mandir. “Ilinos is coming with us?”

  “I invited him.”

  She raised her brows. “I know you don’t like him. Is this some sort of penance you’ve assigned yourself?”

  Mandir nodded. “In a manner of speaking. Where else was he going to go?”

  They ended their conversation as Ilinos drew close enough to hear.

  Setsi drew up in alarm. “You’re not coming with us.”

  Before Ilinos could speak, Mandir cut in. “Yes, he is.”

  “But he...” Setsi trailed off. Still, the worried looks on his and Nindar’s faces spoke volumes.

  “We are brothers,” said Mandir. “All four of us. Have you hear
d the story of the quail and the hunter’s net?”

  Setsi blinked. “No. I think you said the Coalition would tell me that story.”

  “They will,” said Mandir. “I’ll save it for them, but the moral of the story is that the mages of the Coalition learned they had to work together if they wanted to survive. We are the sons of Tufan—we form a sort of coalition of our own. We share a father, and we share a common experience—growing up in this terrible place. If we are to survive in the outside world, we need to stick together. Agreed?”

  Ilinos nodded vigorously, while Setsi and Nindar looked more hesitant.

  “I’m going to lay down some ground rules,” said Mandir. “When we’re on the road, everybody shares equally in the work—the cooking, the cleaning, the caring for the horses, the fetching of wood. I’ll warn you now, if anyone tries to make Taya do the work because she’s a woman, that person will find himself burned crisp as a jerky strip. Nobody hits or abuses anybody else, and if they do, they’re out of the group. This is a second chance for all of us. Don’t throw it away, because there won’t be a third.”

  This seemed to mollify the younger boys.

  Mandir glanced around. “Shall we head out? I suppose Gadatas has decided not to come.”

  “Wait, I think I see him,” said Taya.

  “Where?” He followed the direction of her gaze and saw a dust cloud approaching from the main house. “Oh.”

  The dust cloud resolved into Gadatas, riding up on a spindly piebald. “Good, you’re still here,” he panted. “Thought I was too late.”

  “Let’s head out,” said Mandir.

  Taya wheeled Soldier, taking the lead as they headed downriver, following the path the guards had taken. They would probably pass the guards this evening, since they had no wagons and their pace was faster.

  Mandir steered the blood bay just behind Soldier. Setsi and Nindar came next. Ilinos, riding alone, took up the rear.

  Gadatas kicked his horse alongside Mandir’s.