Stars flashed across his eyes, though his eyelids were closed, fading to blackness and then worse:
Oblivion.
A scream as bright as a flame jarred Grey awake.
He coughed, rolling to the side and spewing up a bitter mixture of seawater and his breakfast from that morning on the Jewel. A soft yellow light illuminated the pool of vomit below him. He hung off the edge of a makeshift bed—stacked stones covered by a thin mattress.
Where am I? The question rolled and tossed through his mind, like a ship lost at sea. The answer broke through the waves in a rush.
The Dead Isles. The cliffs. The furia.
Captured.
And the scream he heard was familiar. Like family familiar.
Shae.
“No,” he breathed, struggling against the ropes that he could now feel biting into his ankles and wrist, secured to iron stakes pounded into the stone walls. Only his stump remained free, wriggling like a worm. Some good that would do him.
“Shae!” he shouted, but he was answered only by another scream.
He knew he was only alive because the furia wanted answers. They might remember him, and if so, they’d probably kill him eventually. Even if they didn’t remember him, they’d want to know who he was and why he was there. And then they’d likely kill him. Either way, he was up a rutting creek without even a single godsdamn paddle.
“Argh!” he roared in frustration, pulling against his tethers until they tore into his skin, rubbing him raw and letting the warmth of blood flow freely down his arm and legs.
A door creaked open, a backlit shadow filling the entrance to whatever chamber he was being held in.
“I want to see my sister,” he demanded.
“Grey Arris,” the woman said, stepping into the light. “Or do you still prefer your ridiculous alias, Grease Jolly?” He instantly knew her—that cold, hard expression, those dark uncaring eyes, the long fiery hair—the woman who had cut off his hand.
One of the Three. A Fury. Instinctively, he wanted to shrink away from her, but his ropes held him fast.
“Where’s Shae?” he managed to whimper.
“Who?”
The fear was swiftly replaced with anger, roiling through him like a fireball, spewing from his mouth like dragon’s breath. “My godsdamn sister, you evil witch! If you’ve so much as laid a single finger on her, I swear I will—”
“Stop, child,” the Fury said.
Grey stopped, her words like steel blades compared to his, which were naught but wooden playswords.
“You are bound and helpless and your threats are just threats. And there is only one God, Wrath, so don’t profane him with Southron superstitions.”
Grey took a deep breath, calming himself. She was right. Hurling meaningless threats was pointless and wouldn’t help him or Shae. “Is she alive?” he asked, hating the submission in his voice, the deep and unassailable fear.
“Yes. Shae is alive.”
“I heard her scream.”
She made no attempt to deny it. “You did.”
“Why?”
“My sister burned your sister’s skin with a hot knife,” the Fury answered.
“What?” Cold rage pulsed back to the surface, and Grey wanted to scream to release it. “Shae! Can you hear me?”
“Grey?” a voice called out. It sounded weak, trembling, like a raindrop clutching the edge of a leaf, afraid to fall.
“We’ve been working very hard to uncover your sister’s secrets, but now we’re running out of time. All we have left are drastic measures.”
“What secrets?” Grey said. They already knew she was marked. They already knew she’d been hiding it her whole life, that he’d been helping her. Neither of them had anything left to hide.
“Why, her power, of course, foolish boy. This will all go better and will be less painful for both of you if you just tell me. Your sister has been unwilling so far.”
Grey gritted his teeth, growling his words between them. “That’s because she doesn’t know, and neither do I.”
“Hmm.” The Fury tapped her teeth with long, red fingernails. “Could she have been telling the truth?”
Another scream rent the air and tore at Grey’s ears. “Stop it!” Tears were pricking at his eyes now, blurring his vision. He couldn’t move, couldn’t act, could only beg. “Please. Please. I’ll do anything.”
“Sister?” the Fury shouted. The scream fell away, until Grey could only make out a soft whimper.
Footsteps approached and then the other Fury entered, standing beside her sister. “You called?” Though her face was as harsh as her sister’s, the second Fury had thinner, sharper eyebrows, and fierce green eyes that seemed to burn.
“I don’t think they know,” the first Fury said.
The second Fury touched the collar of her crimson robe thoughtfully. “That complicates things. But we should make certain they’re not lying.”
“How?” the first Fury asked.
The second Fury nodded at Grey. “By killing him in front of his sister.”
Twenty-Eight
The Southern Empire, the Scarra Desert
Raven Sandes
“We should stop and make camp,” Raven said.
Fire’s shadowy form was backlit by the green moon goddess, Luahi, who had risen from the west. “We ride on,” she said, refusing to meet her sister’s eyes.
Raven felt like leaping from Iknon and tackling her sister, using force to persuade her where reason had failed half a dozen times already. Instead, she gritted her teeth and tried again. “Even if the riders reach Kesh tonight, those on foot have fallen well behind. We need to stay together.”
Fire wheeled her guanik around. “This is no debate,” she snarled. Her reptilian steed hissed its agreement.
Raven watched her sister ride ahead once more, her entire body blazing with unburning flames. All tenderness they’d shared on this journey thus far seemed consumed by the blaze.
Goggin pulled up beside her. “Long have the guanero served a Sandes’ empress,” he said. “Do not treat us with childgloves.”
And then he, too, rode on.
Raven sighed. She knew the man was right. At the heart of it, she wasn’t worried about the guanero or the bedraggled army marching behind them. She was worried about her sister.
Ahead of her, Goggin let out a whoop. Fearing he’d been bitten by something poisonous, she charged after him, plunging with reckless speed into a trough and then pushing her guanik to his limits up the next rise.
There Goggin stood, a mountain of muscle and flesh against the silver sky. A smile as broad as the horizon was painted on his round face as he stared into the distance.
Raven followed his gaze to where lights twinkled like fallen stars on the desert sand. Shadows of palm trees rose up amongst the lights, their large fronds shifting in the wind.
They’d reached the oasis. They’d reached Kesh.
Despite the hour, Kesh was alive with activity. According to Goggin, who claimed to have visited the desert city more times than he could count with his boots off, Kesh lived in the night and dozed in the day.
Grudgingly, Raven had to admit that Fire had timed their arrival perfectly.
A throng of men wearing brightly colored frocks and baggy pants greeted them where the dunes met a thatch of thick foliage. One of them stepped forward and extended a hand to help Fire down from her mount. His arms jingled with brass bracelets as he lifted them. “It is an honor to meet Empress Fire,” he said. Motioning to Raven, he added, “And the First Daughter, too. The hospitality of Kesh is at your disposal.”
At the entrance to the city there were a dozen torches planted in the sand, blazing happily. A line of torches led the way into a broad space filled with thatched huts and seating areas placed strategically under copses of palm trees.
Ignoring the man’s offered hand, Fire leapt down, landing on her feet with a thud. Her guanik snapped its jaws at the poor fellow, who hopped back, chuckli
ng. “Your beast is lively even after a long day’s trek.”
“You are…” Fire said.
“Guta,” the man said, removing a plush purple hat with no brim and a tall dome. “At your service.” He bowed with a broad flourish, sweeping his hat low, all the way to the sand.
“Thank you,” Fire said. “You received my streams?”
“Two of them.”
“I sent six.”
“Yes, well, even water communications are confounded by the shifting sands and heat of the Scarra. Two of six is considered quite successful.”
Raven dismounted beside her sister. “Then you are aware of our numbers?”
“Three thousand,” the man said, peering into the night, as if counting their train. Goggin and his guanero pulled to a stop, sliding off their mounts. The brightly clothed men descended on the animals, steering them over to long water basins. Soon the beasts were drinking while the men rubbed the sand from their rough skin with wet towels.
Goggin stomped forward. “I trust you have simpre?” he asked.
“It flows like water,” Guta said. Here in the desert where water was scarce, Raven wasn’t sure what that meant exactly.
“Good. Bring ten barrels and—” He sniffed the air. “Is that smoked pyzon I smell?”
Guta grinned. “You have a good nose.”
“I have a good stomach,” Goggin said, rubbing his belly and licking his lips.
Guta chuckled. “Phanes may have the largest of the snakes, but the Scarra’s brown pyzons are easier to kill and have flesh sweet enough for the palette of the gods.”
“No gods here,” Goggin said. “But we’ll eat the god food just the same. Now show us to the simpre.”
“No,” Fire said.
Goggin frowned. “Should we wait for the rest of the army? They are well behind.”
“No,” Fire said again. “We will eat and drink water. No simpre. We need our wits about us.”
“No disrespect,” Goggin said, “but we rode hard today, and those on foot did, too. They’ll expect a reward. And we have three days of rest in Kesh before we continue on, so…”
“One day,” Fire said. “We have one day.”
Raven interjected herself into the conversation. “We agreed on three days at the war council,” she said. “The army needs it. We need it.” You need it, she didn’t say.
“We lost two days on the bridge. We’re going to make up for that by not tarrying here.”
“We have food and drink for three days for your entire force,” Guta said. Even his smile was beginning to falter as the mood changed.
“And I thank you for that,” Fire said. “We will take as much as we can carry when we depart. The rest you can give to other travelers.”
“Fire…” Raven started to say, but stopped when her sister shot a dark look in her direction.
Goggin turned to his men. “You heard the empress. We have one day. Let’s make the most of it. And I don’t want to catch any of you so much as sniffing the simpre, we need to save it for the return trip, after we’re victorious at the Gates.”
Raven looked to see if her sister appreciated the response from her war leader, but she was already gone, following Guta toward one of the sitting areas.
Goggin hadn’t exaggerated. Kesh was a magical place, full of brightly colored tents, aromatic smells, festive music, and all the water you could drink. Raven took advantage, emptying four wooden cups before tucking into the generous slab of brown pyzon that Guta served to her personally. Fire was already halfway finished with her meat, while Goggin was on to a second helping. The large man seemed determined to consume a full three days’ worth of food in a single night.
Raven sighed as she bit into the flesh, which was cooked to perfection. The typically rubbery meat was tender and flaky now, having been spiced and then cooked underground on a bed of palm fronds set over a layer of hot coals. The hole was then covered with more palm fronds, until the meat had been infused with the flavor of smoke. It practically melted in her mouth.
“Thank you,” she said to Guta, who never seemed to stop moving, directing a dozen dark-eyed women hither and thither. The women were also garbed in bright uniforms, dresses formed of red, purple, yellow, and blue squares sewn together. All of Guta’s men and women worked seamlessly together, performing their varied tasks with efficiency. The famed hospitality of Kesh was more than living up to its reputation.
They sat on plush, tasseled red, yellow, and green cushions piled atop long wooden benches flanked by huge tables teeming with food and water. As foot soldiers continued to arrive, they were directed to cushions placed on the ground next to huge colorful blankets set with more food and drink. Nearly the entire space was full already, and soldiers kept coming.
Amidst the crowd, six men played an assortment of instruments—guanik-skin drums, bone pipes, and a stringed instrument called a banjeho. Goggin tossed down what was left of his meat and leapt to his feet, grabbing one of the servers and twirling her around, dodging traffic. Though at first she looked shocked, the woman recovered quickly, throwing herself into a traditional desert dance known as the Whip, a name Raven had always appreciated. Others joined her, the women using their long dark braided hair like whips, flinging them around and warding off their “attackers,” the guanero.
Raven laughed at the spectacle, and she even caught a smirk from Fire, whose stony façade slowly crumbled amongst the festive atmosphere. Her sister’s eyes met hers, but then slipped away, back to the dancers and musicians.
Raven considered sliding across the bench to speak with her, but decided against it. Perhaps Fire needed space—the heat and toils of the day had worn on them both. Instead she leaned back and watched the palms rustle softly overhead, blanketed by a sea of stars, twinkling green, red, gold. Several of the red stars coursed across the sky while the green gods seemed to explode, one by one. Luahi, the moon goddess, had been joined by her brother, Ruaho, the moon god, who’d risen from the east. Luahi was nearly full, a brilliant green orb, while Ruaho was just a red sliver, like a crimson smile. Though Luahi finished her cycle from full to sliver in a mere twenty-eight days, her brother was almost twice slower, taking fifty-two days to accomplish the same feat. Men, she thought. Always a bit behind. The sibling moons’ paths approached each other now, but Raven knew they wouldn’t cross, not tonight. The brother and sister only met once a year, on an auspicious night when they were both full at the same time, and they were still months away from joining hands in the sky.
Raven wondered whether she and Fire’s relationship was taking a similar path.
When she tried to catch Fire’s gaze again, her sister was gone, having snuck away, their paths missing once more.
Though she hadn’t gone to bed until daybreak, Raven awoke at midday feeling refreshed. The day was hot, but she wasn’t sweating; a cool breeze wafted through the palms that shaded her. Additionally, the large blankets that had been used to serve dinner to the masses had been affixed to poles, providing draping canopies for every single soldier.
Raven was shocked to find Guta already up, too, moving amongst a group of early risers, serving them breakfast. The tireless man had been awake when Raven retired for the night, and it appeared he didn’t have need of sleep. He seemed to be running things on his own, because Raven spotted his brightly clad women and men sleeping amongst the soldiers. Goggin had his arm draped around one of the women, the dark-eyed beauty he’d initially danced with, her head cradled in the crook of his shoulder.
The sight made Raven laugh. The sound caught Guta’s attention, and he beckoned her over, setting a place for her at the table and filling it with a plate of two hardboiled eggs, spiced pyzon links, and half a pineapple, sliced down the middle.
“Thank you,” she said. “I trust you have been compensated already?”
His large smile grew even bigger. “Yes. The empress is most generous.”
Raven’s own smile faded at the mention of her sister. “I apologize for her con
duct last night.”
Guta waved it away like he was swatting a fly. “She has much weight on her mind.”
“All the same. We appreciate your kindness.”
He swept his hands across the oasis with a grand gesture. “This is what I live for!” He flashed his teeth.
Raven laughed. “How did you get into the…oasis business?”
“I grew up in the desert,” he said. “You could say I am at home amongst the dunes. Kesh has been managed by my family for many generations. My uncle was the last, and he had no children, so it fell to me after he was taken by the sand.”
“Well, I’d say you were born to do this.”
The compliment seemed to please the small man greatly, his eyes lighting up. He rushed off, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll bring more eggs!”
Raven shook her head—she was already overfull. She slipped away from the table and sought to locate her sister, who was likely asleep in one of the thatched huts. No luck. Fire wasn’t amongst the sleeping forms in the makeshift structures.
She spotted Guta again and inquired about the empress. “She went to see to the guanik,” he said.
Raven made her way toward where the guanik were tethered to metal plugs pounded into the ground. Fire was stroking her guanik’s head, feeding it strips of smoked snake meat.
“Surai shines on you this day,” Raven said, using the formal morning greeting.
Without turning, Fire said, “Until Luahi and Ruaho meet in the sky.”
Raven approached her own guanik, and Iknon nuzzled against her hand, searching it for a treat. She’d saved an egg for him, which he swallowed down, shell and all. Though the guanik were fierce beasts in battle, they were as docile as lambs when given a good scratching and an egg or two.
“Fire, I’m sorr—”
“No,” Fire said, cutting her off. “It is I who am sorry, sister.”
Raven was taken aback by her sister’s apology, as unexpected as it was. “For what?”
“I have been unreasonable. It’s just ever since Maata…I’ve felt…uneasy.”