The City of Pillars (28 page)

A blur came in from the side. Nasnas screamed as his leg buckled from the longsword embedded in his thigh. Andrasta shouldered into the god while ripping her weapon free. Nasnas fell, losing his grip on his sword.

The second the god struck the ground, three men dove on top, hacking, slashing, and stabbing with desperation. Nasnas tried to fight, but was already too weak from his struggle with Rondel. A moment later, the god went still as one of the men who wore a full moon on his sleeves, came up with the god’s severed head. He gave orders to his men and they began butchering Nasnas into small pieces.

“I did it,” he whispered. “Our son’s soul is free.”

Andrasta shuffled toward him. She had scrapes up and down her arms and legs where armor and clothes had torn away. Claw marks adorned her shoulder and neck. Sweat and sand coated everything including her face. The braids in her hair were frayed and half undone.

“You look like hell,” said Rondel.

“You think you’re any better?”

He glanced down at his own clothes, felt all his wounds, and realized he still lay on top of the dead ghul that had cushioned his fall. It was a headless Athar.
I hope it wasn’t too fast of a death.

“Probably not.” He nodded to the three Host members piecing out Nasnas. “Glad they’re being so thorough.”

He raised a hand and Andrasta helped him up.

“It’s the fulfillment of a lifelong purpose.” She glanced at the mask. “They’ll want to destroy that too, I’d guess.”

Rondel let it fall from his hand. “They can have it. I take it by the fact you’re still alive that you managed to work out some sort of agreement with them.”

“Something like that. It’s a long story. We have a lot to catch up on.”

He walked to Shadya’s body. Andrasta followed. He knelt at the woman’s side and closed her eyes. He wrapped her body slowly in clothes he pulled from their packs.

“What happened?” Andrasta asked. He heard the confusion in her voice.

“Later. Right now, I just need time with my thoughts.”

“I understand.”

Rondel went to place his arms under Shadya so he could lift her, but his shoulder and leg both gave out. He swore and tears ran down his cheeks.

Andrasta gently moved him aside, bent down, and lifted Shadya. “Where do you want her moved?”

Rondel cleared his throat, and pointed. “Over there away from all the other bodies.”

Andrasta carried Shadya to a spot at the edge of the inner layer of the spiral and set her down carefully. She grabbed a couple of scimitars used by fallen ghuls and handed him one. Silently, the two began to dig.

After some time, Rondel paused, waiting for Andrasta to do the same. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her lest his eyes begin to well again. The loss of Shadya and his son was bad enough, but knowing what he still had in Andrasta nearly sent him over the edge. “Thank you. I—”

Her calloused hand reached out and patted the top of his. She gave it a squeeze and continued digging. A moment later he joined her.

CHAPTER 25

Melek woke to a rising sun and a heavy heart. Two days had passed since he had led his men in the fulfillment of a mission that spanned generations.

Hubul’s son was no more and the few ghuls to escape the battle were too weak to be any threat.

He and two others were the only members of the Host to survive the struggle. They had destroyed Nasnas’s body with fire after hacking it to pieces, burning it with wood gathered from abandoned homes throughout the City of Pillars. After that, they set to burying their fallen brethren. He hadn’t asked for help in doing so, but he was thankful nonetheless for Andrasta and Rondel’s aid.

Melek watched the early morning glow illuminate the ancient city.

The most beautiful graveyard in the world. I wonder what will become of it.

Before retiring the night before, Melek had searched the Host’s annals for answers to questions he had never thought to ask. One was “What would happen to the city now that Hubul’s curse had been lifted?” He found no answer.

Perhaps it will be inhabited once again, erasing the sins of those who came before.

The surest sign that such a scenario was possible occurred the day after the battle when he discovered small shoots of grass growing in the cracks between the road’s cobbles. Melek took it as a sign that Hubul would finally remove the blight of the Empty-Hand Desert from Erba and return the land to glory.

Then why am I not elated?

Melek knew that answer with certainty. In his search through the annals, he also failed to find the answer to another more selfish question.

What happens to us? No one even knows what happened here except for us five. Would anyone believe it?
He looked around.
The City of Pillars has been revealed. Why wouldn’t they?

He sighed.

Melek didn’t need much, but a simple thank you from Hubul didn’t seem like too large a request. In fact, it seemed like a small thing when he considered his entire life had been dedicated to the father of the gods.

Yet, only silence descended from above.

Turning his attention to the rows of piled dirt, graves marked with scimitars thrust into the ground at the head of each mound. The silence tasted bitter.

He walked to Khalil’s grave. The old sorcerer’s death had been the hardest to stomach.

“I wish you were still here,” he said in a whisper. “Maybe your presence would soften the blow of the Host’s state. Maybe you could ease my angry heart.”

Soft crunching sounded. A shift of the wind brought a familiar scent. Andrasta came up beside him. The woman still wore signs of battle, dried blood and caked dirt except where fresh bandages had been applied.

And still she catches my eye.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” she said.

“No.”

“He seemed a good man.” Her gaze drifted over the graves. “They all did.”

“They were.”

I hope you remember that, Hubul, and reward them in the afterlife.

Silence stretched.

Melek broke it, remembering something he had discovered in the annals. “I looked into the wards on your friend’s hands.”

“Oh?”

“I think they contained the true name of Hubul’s son.”

“I thought that had been erased from memory.”

“I thought so too.”

“Then how could Shadya have had it?”

“Remember how I told you there were rumors that certain gods had joined Nasnas. One rumor said that a sibling had been the one to lead Nasnas into Hubul’s throne room where the fighting first began. The language is ambiguous and most men assumed it to be a brother. But reading it again, there are references that seem to hint that it could have been a daughter who was banished after the City of Pillars fell as well. It would explain how and why Shadya managed to survive so long and why no one knew exactly what she was. It also explains her skills with wards and why her powers always grew with the alignment of the heavens. I imagine her former godhood allowed her to somehow remember the true name of her brother.” He sighed. “If Khalil was here, he’d probably be able to confirm my suspicion, but . . . .”

“So, another fallen god.”

“I believe so.”

“Then why did Shadya hurt Nasnas at the very end when she had spent lifetimes trying to help him.”

He shrugged. “Your friend might know that answer. Probably because Nasnas deceived her like he had so many others and she only now discovered the truth.” He paused. “Rondel may have also had a hand in swaying her opinion.”

Andrasta shook her head. “Only Rondel could manage to count a god among his list of lovers.” She cleared her throat. “What will you do now that your mission is over?”

Melek smiled. “I’ve been trying to work that out. The others would like to ride north near Bint, far away from this place and its awful memories. I’m inclined to agree. There are several small towns along Erba’s borders that would be nice places to begin a new life. Maybe even a peaceful one.” He stared at the graves, and added. “I think I’d like that.”

“A good decision.”

Melek regarded Andrasta. Despite looking a mess, he had the surprising urge to make her his. He repressed a snort at the thought of the hell she had rained down on the enemy in the brief time she’d been with the Host.

There is no making her into anything.

“Why are you smiling?” she asked.

“I was just thinking that I’d like you to come with me. But, I don’t think you would.”

Andrasta’s dark skin actually reddened as she turned away from him. “No. I haven’t accomplished the things I’ve set out to do.”

“Then you must continue. Perhaps one day—” he stopped before finishing the statement, knowing that day would never come.

Andrasta grabbed Melek and pulled him into her. One of her hands went to the back of his head, the other wrapped around his waist. Their lips met roughly, opening and closing. Recovering from the shock, Melek’s arms came around her.

It was Andrasta who broke away first, gently separating herself from him. They breathed heavily.

She kissed him once more, softly this time, lips barely touching. He watched her walk away, savoring her taste on his tongue.

It was bittersweet.

* * *

Andrasta steadied her breathing, forcing herself not to look back at Melek as she walked away. Her reaction to Melek’s comments had surprised her as much as it obviously had him, but once she began to kiss him she hadn’t wanted to stop.

Regret tugged at her.

He had been the first person besides Rondel to look at and treat her differently, not as someone lesser, and not just as someone to bed.

She sighed, remembering past promises to herself and to others. She had too many things she not only wanted to do, but needed to do, before she’d be ready for a life like that with another.

And by then he’ll have found someone new.

Andrasta put away feeling sorry for herself as she approached Rondel. Her partner kneeled at Shadya’s gravesite.

She stopped beside him and waited. Hoofbeats sounded behind as Melek rode off.

Rondel touched the mound of dirt with his hand, then stood. He nodded toward the retreating horses. “I’m surprised you didn’t go with them.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I saw the end of your
conversation
with him. I’ve never seen you say good-bye like that before.”

She grinned. “I’ve never wanted to.”

“I don’t guess you’re ever going to tell me about what I missed there.”

She opened her mouth, ready to tell him no, but stopped. Remembering how Rondel had opened up to Shadya when on the road and how she had never really done so with him, she pushed aside those feelings of remaining closed off.

“I will.”

“Really?”

“Considering all that we’ve been through, I think it’s time you and I start talking about things neither of us would rather mention to others. Probably do us both good.”

He blinked. “I never thought I’d hear that from you. But I agree.” He paused. “One stipulation. We wait until we’re on the road to Bashan first.”

“Why? It’ll take us a couple of weeks to get back to Zafar.”

“I know. I want us focused on what we still have to do.”

“The notes at the library and our money?”

“Are secondary.” Rondel’s eyes grew dark in a way Andrasta had never seen before. “First we worry about paying back Wabu and Kamal. If it wasn’t for them setting us up at the museum, we never would have gotten involved in this.”

“I take it you have a plan.”

“Calling it a
plan
doesn’t do what I’m thinking justice.”

Rondel walked toward the two mounts Melek had left for them.

“Then what shall we call it?”

He climbed into the saddle. “A Masterpiece of Retribution.”

She placed her foot in the stirrup and swung up onto her mount.

“That sounds like the name for one of those plays you used to perform.”

“Hmm, it does, doesn’t it?”

EPILOGUE

Andrasta took her spot in the corner shadows of the cellar near the back wall. She carried a borrowed crossbow, loaded and ready. She preferred to have a blade in her hand, but Rondel had his heart set on crossbows.

Though she couldn’t see Rondel, she knew he stood at the opposite corner of the back wall. He held two smaller crossbows, one in each hand. Neither had the power of hers, but they’d do the job.

Illuminated by a single oil lamp, Jabril, one of Zafar’s minor crime lords, sat alone at a plain table that leaned whenever someone put their weight on it. Dressed in pristine, white robes, the dim light gave Jabril the look of a bearded apparition.

All the pieces are in place.

In the week after their return to Zafar, Rondel had moved about the underworld they had once been a part of with a skill and finesse she hadn’t known he possessed. She watched him draw on his previous acting experience time and again as he slipped into persona after persona while manipulating more than two dozen people into doing things he wanted done.

Their last adventure had changed him. In some ways she was glad to see him so focused and driven. He hadn’t made his normal careless mistakes. However, she had barely seen him smile since leaving the City of Pillars.

He’s hurting bad.

The cellar rested in the center of the East District, the low of the lows. Jabril owned the building and half the block.

Andrasta and Rondel had little contact with him before the museum mishap. He simply hadn’t been able to pay them what they wanted on previous jobs. Because of that lack of contact, Andrasta had been hesitant to use him, especially in a situation where the stairs were the only way out. She had expressed those concerns to Rondel.

“His lack of station is exactly why he’s the best choice,” Rondel had said. “He may pretend to be bad news, but he knows he’s not. He needs us more than we need him. If we went to one of the bigger crime lords, they’d have tried to double cross us before we got even this far.”

“So, you’re saying he won’t try something?”

“No. He’ll try something. In fact, he already has something in place. But I knew who he’d go to. I paid the sorcerer on his payroll twice what Jabril offered him.”

She shook her head, in awe of what Rondel could do when motivated.

A soft knock came at the cellar’s door.

The door opened and one of Jabril’s henchmen poked his head inside. “They’re here.”

“Send them in,” said Jabril.

Both tall and lean, Wabu and Kamal strolled in, acting like they owned Zafar. Wabu stroked his long beard while Kamal puffed out a prideful chest.

She and Rondel had learned that the two had been unable to find a buyer for the flute and had returned it to museum officials, claiming to have retrieved it from the real thieves. Along with the flute, they turned in an unrecognizable body of a man with part of his fingers missing on his left hand. They told city officials that Andrasta had managed to escape.

The city wanted justice for the deaths at the museum so badly, they hailed Wabu and Kamal as saviors.

Andrasta’s grip tightened on the stock of the crossbow. A part of her wanted to put a bolt through one of them without waiting.

Rondel said to trust him.

Her partner would not give all the details of what he had planned, not because he didn’t trust her, but because he said he wanted it to be a surprise.

Jabril greeted Wabu and Kamal like old friends. “Ah, the great heroes of the city grace my presence. I am truly honored. I’d thought that given your recent deeds, old Jabril might be beneath you now. Please have a seat.”

Kamal elbowed Wabu as they sat in the two empty chairs on the opposite side of the table. “Technically, you were always beneath us. Only now you recognize it.”

Jabril’s face flashed anger. His eyes flicked to the corner where Rondel stood. He cleared his throat. “Well, again. Thank you for coming. I have something I thought you might be interested in.”

“A job?” asked Wabu.

“Not exactly.”

“Just know that our rates have tripled. I know that might price you out, but there is a high demand for our services now. We really don’t even have time for this, but Kamal swore we owed you the courtesy.”

“Enough chit-chat,” said Kamal. “Why are we here?”

Jabril smiled. “Well, it boils down to the fact you made some really bad enemies. And they aren’t very happy with you.”

Kamal leaned forward. “Are you threatening us?”

“No. No. I don’t deal with threats. Only with truths. And the truth is, your enemies are right here in this very room.” He stood. “And this is where I leave you.”

Wabu stood, hand going to his waist. “You’ll stay right here or—”

“Sit down,” said Rondel, his voice lower and rougher than anything Andrasta had ever heard out of him. He eased out from the shadows and into the light, his two crossbows trained on Kamal and Wabu.

Andrasta noted their surprise.

“Are you really that crazy to come back into the city?” asked Wabu.

Rondel ignored the question and instead gestured to Jabril. “You and your men can go. The local authorities will be along soon to pick them up.” Kamal started to interrupt, but Rondel took another step forward and the man froze.

Jabril walked to the cellar door.

“By the way,” Rondel called. “Don’t count on Hosni, I paid him off a week ago.”

Jabril turned, looking offended. “I wouldn’t—”

“Stop. You would, and you did. And you can wipe that smug grin off your face because I also took care of Imad, Kapur, and the Abadi twins.”

Jabril’s mouth dropped. Andrasta grinned.

Gods, he even managed to sway the Abadi twins.

Rondel shooed him with the one of the crossbows. “And don’t get any ideas about payback. I’ve bought off three men on your payroll as well and they have strict orders of what to do to you if you don’t let matters drop. Go.”

Rondel sat in the now empty chair. Jabril bristled at being dismissed, but left anyway.

Kamal started to open his mouth, but Rondel leaned over and looked into the man’s eyes over the top of the crossbow. “Don’t. I’m in no mood for arguing, cursing, pleading, or begging.”

And neither am I,
thought Andrasta.

“We would never beg,” spat Wabu.

“Of course not. Pride, right?” said Rondel.

Kamal sat back in his chair. “I take it Andrasta is here as well?”

“Of course. She escaped from your heroic recovery of the flute after all.”

“Look, we never meant to—” began Kamal.

“I didn’t give you permission to speak.” He flicked his gaze at Wabu. “Andrasta. If Wabu continues to go for the knife at his waist, please put a bolt in his gut. I hear that’s really painful.”

“With pleasure,” said Andrasta, stepping out of the shadows.

“Now,” said Rondel. “Since everyone finally understands the situation, we can begin. Unfortunately, you were a few minutes late, so I don’t have as much time to fully explain. You’ll just have to settle for a summary.

“You took something that we had rightfully stolen. It held little value to you. Because of that, and the lies you spread afterward, you made our lives hell in more ways than you’ll ever know. Many people died. A part of me wanted to simply hunt you down and kill you. But I just couldn’t bring myself to do it if for no other reason than the fact you had no control over how things escalated after we left the city. Still, that night in the museum was the catalyst for everything that came afterward. Because of that, I can’t simply forgive and forget.”

Neither of us can.

“You’ll be arrested for breaking into the museum last night and stealing the very flute you returned to them as well as stealing items from half the third floor. All the expensive ones. Things that
are
very important to the city.”

Kamal snorted. “No one will believe that. We weren’t anywhere near the museum last night. In fact, I’ve got four reputable witnesses to vouch for us.”

“You mean Bulus, Daud, Atallah, and Esmail? Yeah, it didn’t take much to pay them off. Nor the other dozen people we have as witnesses who went to the watch and explained that they saw you sneaking in and out of the museum with the loot.”

Kamal’s mouth twisted. “They won’t believe your lies. We’re heroes now.” He tried to look tough, but Andrasta could see his confidence waver.

He chuckled. “By the way, you’ll also be charged with fraud and murder for the false body you showed the watch that was supposed to be me.”

“Murder? The man was already dead!” screamed Wabu. “Some bum we found on the street.”

Rondel shrugged. “Those are the breaks. Don’t worry, all the evidence against you is carefully laid out where even the watch couldn’t screw things up.”

“You won’t get away with this,” said Kamal.

Rondel stood slowly. “You think that highly of yourself that you can escape the hell coming down on you and still manage to come after us for another taste of revenge? Please, try it. We’ve tasted hell and liked it. It will take someone better than you to bring us down. Now stand up.”

The two rose slowly.

“I want you to look at this whole situation in a positive light. Think of this as us doing you a favor. If you survive, I promise you’ll be better off because of it.”

Both crossbows went off. Quarrels embedded themselves in each man’s thigh. They fell, clutching at their legs.

I wasn’t expecting that.

Wabu and Kamal yelled obscenities at both of them.

Rondel put the crossbows away. “Lesson one, learn not to let injuries hamper your ability to function or think clearly.” He walked around the table. As he passed by Kamal, he planted a boot in his side. Air left the man’s lungs. “Let’s see what kind of survivors you are.”

* * *

Rondel had underestimated just how close the city watch had been. He and Andrasta barely snuck out of the building ahead of the authorities’ arrival.

Outside the city, they planned to keep riding through the night and the following day. They needed to put distance between themselves and Zafar in case Jabril got a wild hair and decided to pursue them after all.

Andrasta rode just ahead of him, stroking the neck of her mount. It surprised Rondel how much she seemed to have missed Jewel.

“Those plants you said you put in Jabril’s circle. That was a lie, wasn’t it?” Andrasta asked.

“Yeah.”

“And the witnesses to Wabu and Kamal’s crimes?”

“Half as many as I said I had. Still more than enough to get the watch after them. I just wanted it to sound more hopeless.”

She grunted.

“Impressed?”

“Very. Worried I might have to start sleeping with one eye open.” She grinned. “I didn’t think you had that in you.”

Rondel worked his jaw. “I didn’t either to be honest. But any time I started to chicken out, I thought of Shadya and—” he cleared his throat before he got choked up. “Well, it helped me refocus.”

She grunted again.

He hadn’t been able to delay telling Andrasta about what had happened to him. Three days after leaving the City of Pillars he had spilled everything. She listened without ridicule or pity, simply nodding and lending an ear. In return, she opened up about the feelings she had developed for Melek. She had let him glimpse her youth where the only interest she received was from those wanting to bed her as a novelty. Because of her mixed blood, no man in Juntark would ever consider loving her.

Neither pushed their discussions further, knowing it would take time to open up more about their hidden pasts. However, breaches had been made in the walls they had each erected around themselves. Rondel found contentment in that.

He shook his head lightly, not wanting to go down the dark paths of what could have been with Shadya and their child again.
The son of a goddess,
he thought, recalling what Andrasta had told him from Melek.

Gods, my life has been interesting. Unbelieveable. It’d make a great song. I wonder. . . .

“So,” said Rondel. “I killed a god.”

Andrasta scoffed. “Well, you weren’t the one that actually killed him. I believe Melek cut off his head.”

Rondel lightened his tone, hoping that doing so would help force him out of his funk. “Please. A minor technicality.”

“Cutting off someone’s head is a technicality?”

“I was the one who softened him up. If not for me, you’d have never been able to hack at his leg and bring him down so the others could get to him.”

“I guess you have something there.”

“Pretty impressive, huh?” asked Rondel.

“A little.”

“A little?”

“Well, Nasnas was only a
half
-god.”

“No one else needs to know that. Besides, ‘half-god’ doesn’t work as well in rhyme as ‘god.’”

“I don’t understand.”

“I uh, well, I’m sort of writing a song about us.”

“Really? When did you decide to start?”

“About a minute ago.”

She snorted. “I thought you gave up music.”

“I did, but I figured that even though I can’t play or sing like I used to, I can keep writing. The way I see it, in just one year’s time, we’ve already ended a cult and killed a god. And that’s not even referencing the smaller adventures we’ve had, like those poachers. I tell you, we’ve definitely got the beginning of an epic saga.”

“Does that mean you’re going to try to find a new singing and playing style so you can perform the song?”

“Gods, no. I want people to actually appreciate it. I think that by the time our tale is done, thereby our song, people all over the world will be begging to perform it. With any luck, Armand the Golden will want to be the first.”

“Who’s that?”

“A former pupil and later rival. He’s very good. Almost as good as I was. Why not let him be the first to sing
The Epic of Andrasta and Rondel
? One thing I’ve realized as I’ve gotten older is that a song will live on long after the person performing it.”

“So, I get top billing then?”

“Alphabetical.”

“Ah. We should probably work on filling out the rest of the material then.”