Sword and Verse (24 page)

Though he wrote and wrote in the language of the gods, Aqil was never able to manifest the symbols into action as his mother had. He crumpled his paper in his fist in frustration, and it burst into flame. Aqil watched, mesmerized.

“This is my power,” he said. “To burn away all that is impure. Behold the fire of sacred knowledge.”

With delight in his heart, he hurled his fireballs at the scrolls in the library of the world, for what did Sotia's wisdom matter against the power of the gods?

JONIS LED ME
into a stand of scrubby trees and pushed branches aside to reveal a narrow tunnel entrance. We crawled through, the tunnel gradually widening around us until we could stand, packed earth giving way to smooth stone. The Resistance, it transpired, had made their new home not in just any tomb in the valley—but in the long, low, massive Royal Tomb building. I realized this when I saw the inscription over the first door we passed—the serpentine symbol of King Makal—and I stopped in the torchlit hallway, gaping at Jonis.

“What?” he said defensively. “This was the biggest one.”

I shook my head at his gall, then realized that this was exactly why Mati needed him.

Corridors of stone stretched on under the mountain, punctuated by rooms of varying sizes. Stone doors blocked many of these, with inscriptions carved above—occupied tombs. But there were other rooms too, doorless, where the offerings buried with the monarchs lay. I didn't ask whether the Resistance had looted those. I didn't want to know.

Jonis took a torch from a sconce and led me along a sloping hallway, pointing out the occupied tombs as we passed. He read the inscriptions nonchalantly, but I bet he had spent hours working them out.

“It was Kiti's idea to move here, after our place by the quarries was discovered,” said Jonis. “He used this as a hideout once, and since they only have guards posted at the entrance to the valley, it's easy enough to get in. That rear tunnel was made by the workers when they were building. The Qilarites have forgotten it, if they ever knew about it.”

I nodded, squinting up at the inscription over the door we'd just passed—which Jonis had not stopped to read like the others. The symbol combined lion and crown, with
great man
behind. King Tyno. I stopped in my tracks. Jonis slowly turned to face me.

“I know that you were responsible for King Tyno's death,” I said.

There was no guilt, no anger, no pride in Jonis's answering nod, only cold acknowledgment. “And you,” he said, “told the king about Patic and Ris.”

“Yes. Would you have assassinated Mati too?”

Jonis shrugged. “Maybe, if we'd had the opportunity. As you've destroyed the cover of our best man inside the palace, it's a
moot point. You might reflect on how that affects the chances of us helping you now.” He turned and continued down the corridor, laughing darkly. “Though it seems the High Priest of Aqil may be doing our job for us.”

My face grew hot with anger. “If Rale succeeds there'll be ten executions a day.”

Jonis just shrugged and kept walking.

I pattered after him. “What about Soraya Gamo? Did you kill her?”

He spun sharply. I glimpsed his anger before he smoothed it away. “We are not barbarians,” he said evenly. “Soraya Gamo is quite safe.”

He jerked his head toward a doorway, then led me into a vast room full of people practicing with swords. The room was so wide that it was hard to believe we were still underground. Torches set into the walls at intervals lit up the enormous space, and I knew immediately what it was. In ancient days, when a monarch died, all his slaves were sealed into the underground tomb with him, in a space like this. The practice had mercifully fallen out of fashion two hundred years before. A memory of sitting in the Library, reading out old kings' letters about it with Mati, stabbed my consciousness. There were no bones or other signs of dead Arnathim here, though—had they cleared those away?

Jonis must have seen the revulsion on my face, because he said, “You know what this space is for?” He grinned. “Remember, Arnath slaves built the whole tomb. Why do you think they made the tunnel and the back door? Any Arnathim who were
put in here were on their way to Emtiria before the king's body was cold.” He indicated a burly, balding man who was correcting a boy's sword grip near the far wall. “That's Tomis,” he said. “He and Cauti—the skinny one in the corner—are training the rest of us. They both ran from their masters about ten years ago and trained in the Emtirian army.”

“Why did they come back?” I asked, and regretted the words when Jonis shot me a disgusted look.

“We've managed to stockpile quite a few weapons,” he went on, not bothering to answer me. “We're lucky to have Tomis and Cauti to teach us how to use them.”

I wanted to make a snide remark about how he'd used me to get those weapons, but decided it would be wiser to hold my tongue. Jonis went on about training regimens and numbers. I didn't follow most of it, but my heart sank as I realized that the Resistance already had major plans of their own.

“You're not even considering helping Mati,” I said, cutting him off in the middle of listing types of pikes.

“There are many factors to consider.”

The evenness of his tone made me want to scream. How much time did Mati have before Rale's men came for him? “What about the others?” I said coldly. “Don't you think they have the right to decide for themselves if it's a good idea?”

Jonis shrugged. “All right, present it to them.” He clapped his hands and called loudly, “Everyone! Gather around.”

The closest people heard and lowered their swords, moving toward us curiously. Seeing them, others followed suit. Whispers ran around the room as they recognized me, but no one seemed
surprised—news of my coming must have preceded me to the tombs.

Soon I had an audience of fifty or so, but I had no idea what to say. I looked at Jonis.

“Go to it,” he said. The surface of his voice was polite, but I heard the smirk underneath.

The faces turned to me wore expressions ranging from curious to hostile. “Things in the palace are not as they seem,” I began. I cleared my throat and tried to speak up. “Penta Rale is trying to steal the crown. The king needs your help.”

Tomis, the ex-soldier, shrugged. “What's that to us?”

“The king is a good man,” I said. I told them how Mati had helped the palace children, how he'd tried to outlaw whipping, how he'd saved me. “Mati wants to help the Arn—to help
us
. But the Scholars Council is against him. He needs allies. He needs
you
. That's why I've come, to ask for your help.”

I looked around hopefully, but all I saw was skepticism and, in some cases, open-mouthed disbelief. I pressed on. “Some on the council still support Mati. Priasi Jin, the Trade Minister, and Obal Tishe, the High Priest of Lanea.” I thought Tishe's name might impress them—after all, he'd intervened during the fighting at the temple last year.

The room went completely silent for a beat, and then whispers and murmurs started up. I frowned, not understanding.

Jonis spoke up to my left. “She doesn't know,” he said. He looked at me. “The Temple of Lanea burned to the ground this morning. Eight Arnathim were inside, along with Obal Tishe.”

My stomach tightened. “Rale did this. Don't you see? Rale
is trying to destroy anyone with the power to help Mati, anyone who might be sympathetic to your cause. He's feeding off fear of us to increase his own power!” My voice sounded hysterical to my own ears. Rale was openly killing people now. How long before he went after Mati? How many more people would die before this was over?

“
Us?
” said a voice to my left. “Suddenly you're one of us, are you?” I located the source: Deshti, hovering behind Jonis, glaring at me. Clearly she had voiced what everyone else was thinking.

“I've
helped
you,” I said angrily. “I don't think I—”

“When it was convenient for you,” said Deshti. She sounded like Jonis, right down to the deliberate, mocking tone.

“Deshti,” began Jonis, but I cut him off.

“
Convenient?
I could have been executed for tampering with those records. And I lied to the council about the oracle, to keep Jera safe, like you asked me to. The only reason I got away with any of it was because Mati trusted me, even when I was lying to him. There was nothing
convenient
about it. I helped you because it was the right thing to do.” I pulled in a furious breath. “And now, helping Mati fight Rale is the right thing.”

Deshti rolled her eyes. “Do you even know anything? Rale was the one who set Tyasha up. She was too stupid to see it, and look what happened when the Resistance trusted her.”

A few people gasped at Tyasha's name, but a curly-haired woman in the front row said, “We don't know that for sure, Deshti.”

Deshti ignored her, glaring at me. “It's sweet, really. You're just like the very first Tutor, a king's concubine.” She smiled
nastily. “How nice that you're carrying on such ancient traditions, falling in love with your master.”

I flushed. “Mati's not my—” I began angrily, but then I realized that she was right. It was so far removed from how I thought of Mati as to be almost inconceivable, but that was how everyone else saw it. Including the crowd of people eyeing me with disgust.

My stomach knotted. How could I overcome years of slavery and oppression? How could Mati? I shook my head to clear it, and latched desperately onto the rest of Deshti's outburst. “That story about King Balon's . . . concubine . . . that's not why the Tutors are Arnath,” I said. “Maybe that's what they say, but that's not it. It's symbolic—another way to keep us down. They use the Tutors to pass on the thing they've taken from us, to remind us how much they control us.” I was speaking at random, but as the words came out of my mouth, I felt their truth. We Tutors, ironically, were the ultimate symbol of Arnath subjugation.

The others had grown quiet, but Deshti snorted. “Easy for you to say, living so easy in the palace, learning to write . . .”

I faced her incredulously. “It's not a gift—to learn how to write, and then not be allowed to. Not for any real purpose, anyway. Not like my—” I bit off the rest of the sentence.

Deshti's voice was shrill. “Oh, please. You come here, pretending to be one of us, pretending to know what it's like—”

“I do know, though,” I said quietly. I couldn't keep my secret any longer; the Qilarites had plenty of reasons to want to kill me now aside from my birth, and telling these people who I really was might be the key to earning their trust. I had to say this right. “I admit, I wanted to learn to write, more than anything, when
I became Tutor. So I would know the language of my father, the language . . . of the Learned Ones of the Nath Tarin.” A wave of grief for my lost heart-verse hit me.

But I couldn't think about that now. I cleared my throat. “My true name is Raisa ke Comun. My parents sent me to their friend when the raiders came, because they knew what would happen to them, what would happen to me, if anyone knew who I really was. I came from the Nath Tarin. I was ripped away from my home, and I've had to lie about who I am since I was six years old. So don't tell me that I don't understand how things are.”

Deshti still looked dubious, but the old man beside her nodded sympathetically. The curly-haired woman in the front row reached out a hand as if to touch my arm, then dropped it to her side. Jonis just watched me thoughtfully.

“Please,” I said fervently, meeting the eyes of anyone who didn't look away. “Mati is trying to be a good king. He needs your support. If you do this, he'll . . . he'll free all the Arnathim.” Mati hadn't said so, of course, but I spoke with certainty. He would if he could.

This earned me many skeptical looks. Even the sympathetic man in the front raised his eyebrows in disbelief. Deshti opened her mouth as if to say something, then glanced at Jonis and stayed quiet.

I couldn't let myself waver. I lifted my chin and forced myself to speak loudly and clearly. “He will,” I told them, holding each person with my gaze before moving on to the next. “If you fight this enemy with him, King Mati will give you your freedom.”

Lanea watched Belic and his people, but, fearing Gyotia's wrath in the wake of Sotia's imprisonment, she dared not approach them. One day she returned to the great house on the mountaintop to find Lila just leaving Gyotia's bed. Lila's proud face was bruised, for Gyotia was not gentle with either of his wives. Lanea went to her storeroom, her hand pausing briefly over the poisonous lantana, but she selected instead a jar of willow bark salve. She returned and handed the jar to Lila. Lila's haughty expression did not abate, but she took the jar with a nod of thanks and left the house.

“WHY DO WE
need anyone to
give
us our freedom?” said Tomis loudly. “I say we take it, just like they took it from us. We don't need a king. If there's a coup, we take advantage of it and attack. Get 'em all out of there, I say.” The others nodded and murmured agreement. Tomis turned on his heel. “Come on, you lot. Seems we'll need to be ready earlier than we thought.”

Abruptly I was alone as the others returned to their practice. Jonis said something softly to Deshti. She shot me a hate-filled glare over his shoulder. Jonis touched her arm and moved away from her, and I saw the flash of wistful longing in her face before she turned away. Clearly Deshti did
not
hate Jonis.

“Come on,” Jonis said to me. He led me through to the next chamber, where six people sat on the stone floor, a meal spread on a cloth before them. Jonis gestured to a corner, and I sat dazedly.

I'd thought, for a moment, that some of them understood. My head felt heavy.

Jonis's voice seemed far away as he sat next to me. “Kitchen's down there. It's the only room with enough ventilation—if you call a giant piece of stone ripped out of the ceiling ‘ventilation.' Only place we can build a fire without smoking everyone out. I don't know what we'll do during Qorana—the rain'll come right in.”

“Who knows what'll happen by then?” I said softly.

Jonis grunted. Everyone had gone quiet, watching us. A girl brought us bread and cheese and roasted meat.

The others drifted away as soon as they finished eating. At first I thought this meant they all felt uncomfortable around me. But the more I saw Jonis with the other members of the Resistance, the more I realized that he wasn't just
a
leader; he was
the
leader. He was often called away while we ate to deal with some situation or another. The fourth time this happened, I was alone when he returned.

Jonis sat down. “It's a shame about Tishe,” he said, no trace of irony in his tone.

“Rale only went after Tishe to hurt Mati.”

“True,” said Jonis. “The king's allies
are
in considerable danger these days.”

“That's not what I meant!”

“But it's so,” he responded. “Who knows what they would
have done to you if you hadn't escaped?”

“That's
not
why I came.”

Jonis crossed his arms. “Why are you so eager to support him?”

“I love him.”

He rolled his eyes. “Why?”

“Because he's the kindest person I've ever known—he's saved me more times than I can count. Because he's doing his best to be a good king. He does want to free the Arnathim. He
will.
”

“You believe that?”

“I do. He's . . . he's never let me down, even when I've given him reason to.” I blinked back tears. Talking about Mati was making me miss him fiercely. “Why else do you think I came? Everyone here hates me. Especially Deshti.”

Jonis sighed. “Don't mind her. She's still mad that she wasn't selected as Tutor. She was supposed to be our operative in the palace. She was ready for it even at thirteen.”

I nodded. That didn't completely explain her attitude, but it made sense. “Why didn't you tell me about Rale setting up Tyasha?”

Jonis made a face. “That's Deshti's theory. I don't believe it. Tyasha was smart, and Rale seems too petty to plan something that big.”

I laughed. “
Seems.
He hates the Tutors. I didn't see the danger either.” I played with the hem of my tunic. “There's something else I need to tell you. Rale used Jera to get information about me, to bring Mati down. Mati will protect Jera as best he can, Laiyonea too.” She
would
protect Jera, wouldn't she? Even if she was
furious at me, I had to trust that she would take care of the little girl. I looked up at Jonis. “But if Rale succeeds, I don't know what will happen to your sister.”

Jonis blanched before his blank expression fell into place. “I'll consider your request,” he said.

For the first time, I actually believed he might. I cleared my throat. “You . . . command the Resistance?” I asked tentatively.

He nodded.

“Aren't you, well, young to be in charge?”

“Amazing how quickly one moves up the ranks when your sweetheart keeps executing our leaders.”

I winced, recalling the fresh heads on pikes at the marketplace. “That wasn't Mati. That was the Scholars Council.”

“So the king is completely powerless.”

“No,” I said, “not completely, but Rale's gaining support, and Mati can't—”

“Can't stop senseless deaths?”

I sighed. I'd thought I was making progress, but now I was saying everything wrong. “Mati hates violence, and didn't see what Rale was doing until it was too late. My stupidity got in the way too. Mati won't do anything to hurt me, and Rale knows it. That's why I had to leave. It was my idea to ask for your help. Mati didn't believe you would agree, but I told him . . . that you're a good man too, that you'd understand. I just hope I was right.” I peeked at his face. His expression was impenetrable.

I shook my head. “Well, please decide soon, so I can go back and tell him what's happening.”

“Oh, you're not going back,” said Jonis.

I whipped my head up so quickly that my neck hurt. “I'm a prisoner here?”

“No,” Jonis said, “but I'm responsible for the safety of a large number of people, and I need to determine how best to protect them. Letting you leave is not in anyone's best interest, including your own.” Something in the way he spoke reminded me strongly of Mati, but it must have been a trick of the echoes off the stone walls.

I snorted. “Is that what you told Soraya Gamo?”

“No, actually, it was difficult to say anything to her—she never stopped spewing insults.”

I grinned, for some reason enjoying the image of Soraya screaming at Jonis. Then I remembered what Jonis was capable of. So he hadn't killed Soraya—that didn't mean he wouldn't. “Why did you kidnap her?” I asked.

He cocked his head. “Leverage. To make the king and the Scholars Council take us seriously.”

I shook my head. “Haven't you been listening? It's not Mati you have to worry about, it's Rale, and Gamo. . . .” I trailed off.

Jonis smiled unpleasantly. “Exactly. And now you're here, so we're covered however this turns out.”

My stomach turned. “You'd use me against Mati too? I thought you were better than that.” I stood. “I want to see her.”

“Soraya Gamo?”

“Yes.”

Jonis didn't move. “Why do you care about a Qilarite princess who'd spit on you as soon as look at you?”

“It's my fault she left the palace in the first place.”

Jonis stared at me, then got languidly to his feet. He told me to wait, and came back a few minutes later with a thin slab of stone. Hunks of meat, cheese, and bread lay on the makeshift tray, along with a goblet.

“You can deliver dinner to her, since you're so sympathetic,” he said with a smirk.

“Fine,” I replied airily.

He took a torch from a sconce and led me down a set of narrow steps, and then along a deserted hall that ended in more steps. Down those steps and around a corner, and I saw a torch in the distance. Under it two men sat by what looked like an occupied tomb—a stone slab blocked the door, but no inscription above told of an occupant.

One of the men looked up as we approached. “Quiet all afternoon,” he said.

Jonis turned to me. “Well, go ahead.”

My blood ran cold. Not that Soraya and I had ever been friendly, but I could imagine what it must be like for her, shut up in a dark tomb.

I stepped forward with the tray. The two men stood. One took an astonished look at my face, and then at Jonis, who nodded wryly. They worked together to push the stone slab aside. Jonis handed me a torch, saying, “Don't get too near her with the flame, or you'll regret it.”

I balanced the tray on one hand and stepped into the dark room. Soraya lay huddled on the cold floor, her eyes glittering in the torchlight. A sharp tang in the air attested to the presence of a chamber pot nearby.

“I have food,” I said softly.

She sat up. I recognized the spangled blue scarf she'd been wearing at the council meeting, in tatters over her hair.

“You!” she spat. “I might have known that you were behind this. Humiliating me wasn't enough? You had to dispose of me too?”

“No!” I said. “That's not—”

“When my father finds me—and he will, have no doubt—I will see
you
flayed alive. Your punishment will make that whipping seem like nothing.”

My hands shook. Quickly I set the tray on the ground and backed away.

Soraya let out a contemptuous sigh. “I can't reach it there, slave.” She lifted her hands to reveal manacles around her wrists, with chains leading to a ring set into the wall at waist height.

I eased forward and nudged the tray toward her with my foot. Soraya watched me beadily, and I realized that, though her behavior hadn't earned her any friends, it also kept her captors from touching her. Surely that was her greatest fear, born of hundreds of thoughtlessly pronounced opinions in Scholar parlors: that the barbaric Arnathim would beat her if given the chance . . . or worse.

I understood in that moment that Soraya Gamo was not stupid, but still I underestimated her.

“He never loved you,” she said, when I was close enough that her voice would not carry to the corridor. “Maybe he found you amusing to play with, but don't think he's ever forgotten what you are. Once I'm his wife and take my rightful place on the council,
you will be nothing to him.”

I stepped back, heat rising in my face. I knew she was shooting wildly, saying anything to wound because of her own fear, but that didn't mean her arrows fell short of the target.

“You won't be harmed, as long as you don't harm anyone else,” I said, trying to force the emotion out of my voice, the way I'd heard Jonis do.

Soraya lunged forward and launched the goblet at me. I stood sputtering, covered in wine, laughter echoing in the corridor behind me. Soraya's lips spread into a satisfied smile. She'd go thirsty now, but she seemed to think it was worth it.

I backed out of the room, not daring to take my eyes off her until I was outside and one of the men took the torch.

Jonis was still laughing as he slipped off his tunic and handed it to me, revealing a pale, lean torso. “Here, dry off. Now you see why we keep her chained. I should have warned you, but you were determined to be sympathetic.”

I mopped at my face and sodden clothes, then shook my hair out of its braid to dry. Wordlessly I handed Jonis his tunic and he draped it over one arm and led me back up the corridor.

The only sound was our footsteps until we got to the second staircase. “Why do you want to help them?” Jonis finally said. “So they can treat you like that?”

I sighed. “Not all Qilarites are like that. And even those who are—well, did you ever consider that slavery is just as damaging to them as it is to us? ‘The master is cruel to reassure himself that the slave is the other.' Or something like that. I may be quoting it wrong.”

Jonis looked at me as if I'd spoken a foreign language. “Do you know why I was sold to Horel Stit when I was fourteen?”

I thought back to what I'd read. “Part of his wife's dowry, right?” I flushed, realizing too late that his question had been rhetorical.

He looked at me quickly, but didn't ask how I knew this. “My benevolent master, Kladel Ky, had sold my father to the mines the year before,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. I cringed; being sold to the mines was as good as a death sentence. It was just slower and more painful than execution. “My father wasn't gone half a Shining before Ky started raping my mother. She nearly died in childbirth a year later, when Jera was born.”

Jonis continued down the corridor, and I hurried to catch up. “I was . . . not good at controlling my anger then.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the crisscrossing scars on his back, denser than his sister's, denser, I knew, than mine would be. “So Ky sold me to someone even worse than himself, someone he thought could control me.” He shuddered. “I've been facing Qilarite cruelty all my life, as have most of the people here. Whatever happens, don't expect me not to hate them.”

He marched away, leaving me standing in darkness.