And yet she felt him look at her soul and see something worth saving.
Tears blur her eyes. She backs away from him, this boy who would feel pity for her despite what she did to him. She discorporates into a thousand flies and hurtles away from the clearing.
The words follow her. Well into the twilight skies and beyond. They follow her, and they stay with her.
44: Musalodi
Bonobo Province—Kingdom of the Yontai
The world sways on its axis.
A cloud of flies surges away. Ravens burst out of thin air, and two bodies come tumbling to the ground, instantly curling into shivering balls. In his disoriented state, Salo takes a while to realize that the bodies are Tuk and Ilapara.
Almost passing out from the wave of relief that washes over him, he gathers himself up and staggers toward them, calling their names. By the time he gets to them, Ilapara is on all fours, while Tuk has sprawled on his back like he doesn’t ever intend to get up. Alinata materializes next to him, hugging herself and looking mildly peeved.
He searches the trees but sees no sign of the Maidservant. He felt her pull away from him after her life flashed before his eyes; now she’s already far enough that he can’t sense her with his shards. “Are you all right?” He extends a hand to help Ilapara up to her feet. Her hand is cold to the touch but not cold enough to warrant shivering.
“Peachy,” Tuk answers from the ground. “Just reeling from the most disturbing experience of my life.”
A relieved chuckle escapes Salo’s lips. To the Asazi he says, “You held up longer than I expected. I was worried you’d been hurt.”
She frowns like she’s tasted something bad and turns her face away. “Not hurt. Just imprisoned. A hazard of the trade, I suppose.”
Knowing Asazi and their perfectionism, he’s certain this will be a big slight to her pride. At least that’s the worst of her injuries.
He looks about the clearing, noting Mukuni sitting on his haunches protectively next to the other warmounts. The cat has a few scratches on his spotted coat but is otherwise unharmed.
“Where’s the witch?” Alinata says, searching the trees with a wary look. “I assume you defeated her, given we’re all still alive.”
You don’t have to be, he said to her after he saw her torment and felt the force of her guilt. It’s not your fault, is what she said to him when she saw what he did to his mother.
In some ways Salo always knew. At least he suspected, but his memories of that night felt so unreal he couldn’t be sure what actually happened.
How he willingly and consciously killed his mother.
Even now his mind recoils from the memory, rejecting it. But he saw the truth with his own eyes, and there’s no denying how much it all makes sense.
It wasn’t your fault.
He hated the Maidservant for what she’d done to Monti. He wished her all the evil in the world . . . and yet, what he saw, the things that had been done to her . . . How can I still hate her now?
“She’s gone,” he says.
Alinata studies him. “Are you sure?”
“She’s no longer a threat to me or any of us.” Of this he is absolutely sure. “I appreciate your help, by the way. I’d probably be dead without you.”
“Think nothing of it,” Alinata says, and an amused light enters her eyes. “All things considered, I think you handled yourself rather well.”
Ilapara has ventured off to find her spear; she returns with it, looking at Alinata like she’s seeing her through new eyes. “Is the Void . . . always like that?”
The corners of Alinata’s mouth lift ever so slightly. “You get used to it.”
“Respect, Ali,” Tuk says. “I seriously don’t know how you do it.” He finally forces himself up, springing off the ground with unexpected energy. He attempts to dust himself down, but the mud won’t budge. He sighs. “I suppose the campsite’s ruined now. Perhaps we should find somewhere close to a river? A bath and a change of clothes might be in order.”
Salo’s gorge rises as he takes in the remains of the dozen men he helped kill, strewed about the forest floor. He tears his eyes away before the queasiness can set in. “What do we do about the bodies? I don’t know any spells for funeral rites.”
“We leave them,” Ilapara says.
Tuk nods in agreement. “I have no problem with that. Do you?” He looks at Alinata, who shakes her head quietly, then at Salo.
When he communed with the Lightning Bird, Salo felt a new vein of power opening in his shards, almost as if his communion had broken through some barrier of ignorance and deepened his connection to the moon.
Now he feels the same stirring again, a new aspect of his Axiom opening up to him, an arcane energy with power over the patterns of light. Mirror craft.
He stares at his glowing arms as his shards adjust to this new sensation, wondering if the memory of his own hand driving a blade into his mother’s belly broke through yet another barrier of ignorance.
But why? he thinks. Are my own memories and knowledge keeping the other crafts from me?
What else is he supposed to remember?
Noticing that Tuk and the others are still waiting for him to respond, he lowers his arms and shakes his head. “We don’t owe them anything, we don’t have the time, and I’m tired.” He exhales loud and long. “Let’s just get out of here.”
As they pack up and leave, Salo’s thoughts drift back to the Maidservant and the brief experience they shared when their minds entangled in the Void.
He thinks about how much he hates her for what she did to Monti, for unearthing that horrible memory. He thinks about the change he felt in her just before they were severed, the feeling that beneath all that hatred was a woman desperate to find peace. He also thinks about how there may still be hope for her and how this makes him want to forgive her despite everything.
All of it makes him weary to the bone.
45: Isa
Yonte Saire, the Jungle City—Kingdom of the Yontai
The old stories say that the foot of the city’s colossus is where the first Saire king made a covenant with the Shirika by sacrificing his beloved firstborn son to them. It is said they drank his blood and feasted on his flesh, keeping him alive with spells, that he lay screaming in agony for days on end with his guts exposed to the sky, his torment paid in exchange for Saire supremacy over the rest of the Yontai.
It is said that afterward, the new king dug a grave with his bare hands, wearing them down to shredded stumps, softening the earth with his blood and tears, and upon his son’s grave he built a gilded monument so that no one would ever forget the terrible price he had paid.
Isa never gave much thought to the legend, never wondered about what had been done to put her dynasty in power, but now it’s all she can think about.
She stares at the colossus across the city from her chamber in the Red Temple, wondering what the young man was thinking as they tore the flesh off his bones. Did he appreciate the sacrifice he was making for his clan and family? Or did he curse them all and curse his father? What would she have thought?
Behind her, a knock comes on the door, two quick raps, then four, then three.
“Come in,” she says without turning away from the city.