6: Broken Fortress (17 page)

“That island is where Fikiri and his Lady make their home.” Ji shifted a little under Kahlil’s hand and he realized that she wanted him to scratch lower on her skinny back. Kahlil complied.
 

“When Jath’ibaye destroyed the northlands, he crushed the Black Tower and Umbhra’ibaye as well. Do you know how?” Ji asked.

“No, I don’t remember that.”

“All three of the great Payshmura centers were linked,” Ji said. “There was an open gateway connecting them. Jath’ibaye collapsed that gateway, pulling all three into one ruin. The priests, nuns, acolytes, servants, animals, all living flesh died. But one of the issusha’im survived intact.”

Kahlil suddenly thought of his sister. His hands went still on Ji’s hide. There was such a slim chance that his sister, of all the issusha’im, would have survived. He knew it was foolish to even hope. Still, he couldn’t keep from asking, “Do you know what her name was?”
 

“Loshai,” Ji whispered. “But we do not speak her name too often for fear of summoning her.”

“Oh,” Kahlil said. He hardly took the name in. It was not his sister’s. It wasn’t Rousma. Kahlil closed his eyes and tried to lay memories of her back to rest as they had been before that momentary flash of hope.

“I don’t know if you can imagine what it was like after the northlands fell,” Ji went on. “Storms of ash and mud, then week after week of earth tremors, mudslides, and always rain. Even with the stores of food at Vundomu, hundreds of people starved. And Jath’ibaye was nowhere to be found.
 

“At last the land calmed enough for me to go and search for him. I found him out where the Greenhills are now. He was half buried in stone and mud. After I dug him out, he hardly seemed alive. He didn’t notice food or warmth, not even pain. He was emaciated and unresponsive. He wanted to be left to die. But of course he couldn’t die and I couldn’t afford to leave him.
 

“By that time the Bousim family had already sent word to us that we should surrender Vundomu to their forces. They had an army marching towards us. We were all half starved and sick from fouled water supplies. We needed Jath’ibaye if we were to stand against the Bousim.
 

“And that was when Loshai arrived, looking for Jath’ibaye. She knew him. She railed at him, shouting and cursing him in a language I had never heard. At last that seemed to rouse him. They both returned to Vundomu with me and the Bousim forces were defeated in less than a week. After that Jath’ibaye dedicated himself to protecting Vundomu and to healing the lands.

“For a while that seemed to be Loshai’s wish as well. But then she began visiting the island in the north. Sometimes she returned with Payshmura books, ancient scrolls, even cursed relics. She was not interested in what I could teach her. She wanted Payshmura teachings about raising the Great Gate, creating issusha’im, and altering the past. I heard her arguing with Jath’ibaye more and more. After three years it seemed to be all they ever did in each other’s company.”

“What did they fight about?” Kahlil asked.

“I couldn’t say. But I do know that Loshai had been deeply wronged, as were all the women who were forced to become issusha’im.” Ji sighed heavily. “There is always the temptation, once you have seen what the issusha’im see, to reach back and somehow save yourself. It is nearly impossible not to think of altering history for your own sake. Other lives, joyful existences, haunt your dreams and drive you nearly mad because you know they aren’t just whimsy, not just fantasy. They are the lives the Payshmura stole, the histories they destroyed. Everything you dream of could have been real once.” Ji paused and lowered her head.
 

Kahlil understood what it was to be haunted by another life. He wondered what lost histories haunted Ji. But he didn’t ask. It seemed too personal.
 

“I don’t know if that was what drove Loshai. But I remember her screaming a word at Jath’ibaye with such loss and anger that he could say nothing in response. He looked like he had been shot. I’ve thought about the word since then, but I’ve never been able to decide what it meant.”

“What was it?” Kahlil asked.

“Bill,” Ji said quietly. “It’s a small word, but it meant something important to Loshai. And to Jath’ibaye as well. After that last argument, Loshai went out to the north island and did not return. A few months later the first of the hungry bones arose and after that Fikiri began killing and stealing our children.”

“Where was Fikiri before then?” Kahlil asked.

“Who knows? None of us had seen him earlier. He was probably hiding on the island. From what I’ve heard, he and Loshai knew each other before she was taken to Umbhra’ibaye. Jath’ibaye hated him, but I don’t think Loshai ever did.”

“I never liked him,” Kahlil commented, but he wasn’t thinking about that. He was remembering the countless souls trapped in the white sands at the chasm’s edge. “Why would they create hungry bones?”

“Because she is making issusha’im. Not all attempts succeed. Some only create hungry bones.”

“But—” Kahlil began, but then he remembered Fikiri’s promises of a gateway to Nayeshi. If Loshai were really creating a new gateway, then she would need issusha’im to control the moment in history that her gateway opened into.

“We’ve never managed to infiltrate the island. The hungry bones guard it too well,” Ji told him. “But we all know there is little use for issusha’im unless one is reconstructing the Great Gate.”

“Yes.” With all the remnants of the Payshmura holy places that littered her island, there was a good chance that she could build a Great Gate. It would depend greatly on the kind of power she could wield.

“Loshai,” he said the name quietly. It was familiar, as Fikiri’s name had been when Kahlil had first heard it.

“You knew her?” Ji asked.

“When I was a youth,” Kahlil said, frowning. Distant memories washed over him. The image of a slender woman came to him. Her hair was long and white blonde; her eyes were large and blue like John’s. And then he remembered her dressed in weasel skins. Snow swirled around her as she carefully fed twigs into a cooking fire. Her thin husband, Bill, leaned against a bare tree fighting for breath. And John had been there as well. He had said she was his sister.

But Kahlil knew she wasn’t. She was his childhood friend, Laurie. She had been the one to give John the nickname of Toffee. She had been with John the day he intercepted the golden key. She was the witch whose powers had stirred even in Nayeshi’s atmosphere.
 

“Loshai was one of Fikiri’s mother’s attendants,” Kahlil said at last. “Bill was called Behr. He was her husband. He was murdered, I think. I don’t remember exactly, but it led to the Payshmura discovering that she had witches’ blood.”

“And then they made her an issusha,” Ji stated sadly. Kahlil felt a shudder creep down her spine.

“I think so.”

“She must have been with child,” Ji said. “Otherwise they would have burned her.”

“I don’t know…I guess so.” Sentimental warmth lingered in Kahlil’s memories of Loshai and Behr. He couldn’t help but feel sympathy for all that Loshai must have lost and endured. But he also knew that he had to crush those feelings. If Loshai had rebuilt the Great Gate to return her to her past in Nayeshi, then she would need an immense source of power to awaken it. She would need to feed the stones with a god’s blood and bones. She would need to kill Jath’ibaye.

“And Jath’ibaye knows all this?” Kahlil asked.

Ji nodded.
 

It was getting too cold and dark to stay outside. Kahlil stood up. Ji watched him. After a slow yawn, she drew herself up to
her feet.

“Why doesn’t he destroy the island?” Kahlil asked.

“He says he can’t,” Ji replied.

“Of course he can.” Kahlil scowled at the absurdity of that idea. “There is nothing in this world that he cannot destroy if he wishes.”

Ji shifted, letting out a slight groan as she resettled herself. “But if he doesn’t wish it, then the power may not come to him.”

“What do you mean?”

“She was his friend,” Ji said. “She gave him something to live for when he had nothing else. Even now, when he knows that he must destroy her or she will keep killing our children, that friendship still lives deep within him. It won’t allow him to destroy the island.”

“Someone should just tell him to do it,” Kahlil said.

“We have. He’s tried.” Ji shook her head. “It’s not so simple.”

“But it is,” Kahlil replied. “He’s the Rifter. He is Destruction Embodied—”

“No,” Ji interrupted Kahlil, before he could launch into a recitation of the hundreds of names of the Rifter. “He is Jath’ibaye.”

“Yes, but—”

Ji snapped her yellow teeth, startling Kahlil into silence. “No matter how powerful he might be, he’s still a human being. He has already accepted responsibility for thousands of lives. If he can’t bring himself to murder a friend, then I am willing to accept that. I would not force him to be responsible for that death as well.”

Kahlil almost snapped out an aggravated response, but then he stopped himself. Only days before, he had admired Jath’ibaye for never losing his humanity despite his power. Surely it was that very same trait which Kahlil now found so exasperating.
 

He knew that he wouldn’t want Jath’ibaye to become the kind of man who easily murdered a friend. He took a deep breath of the cold air and released it. The living heat of his breath formed a pale wisp against the dark sky.
 

“Jath’ibaye can’t do it, but I could,” Kahlil said. He glanced to Ji. “That’s why everyone here is so relieved that I’m going to kill Fikiri. You’re all hoping I’ll take out Loshai as well.”

“We’re counting on it.”
 

“If that’s what I have to do, then that’s what I’ll do.” Kahlil shrugged. But he wondered how Jath’ibaye would respond. Would he be sickened or relieved after Kahlil had killed Loshai? Jath’ibaye probably didn’t know himself. He probably dreaded finding out. Perhaps that was why he insisted that Kahlil remain here in Vundomu instead of leaving to hunt Fikiri down.

 
“We should get back to Jath’ibaye’s holdings before he comes to find us,” Ji said.
 

Kahlil glanced to the barracks just in time to see Jath’ibaye striding toward them across the courtyard.

“Too late,” Kahlil replied.

Ji squinted across the courtyard. Kahlil noticed that her tail began to wag just slightly at the sight of Jath’ibaye. He wondered if she knew that she was doing it.

Even in the dark, Jath’ibaye walked straight to them, never missing his footing. Kahlil enjoyed watching Jath’ibaye move. He seemed so at ease in his physical prowess. Despite his size, he hardly left prints in the soft earth.

“I thought I’d come and see what was taking the two of you so long,” Jath’ibaye said.
 

“We were just about to leave,” Kahlil replied. Briefly, he caught Jath’ibaye’s hand. Their fingers touched and parted.

“I’ll walk you back up then,” Jath’ibaye said.
 

“Do you know what Eriki’yu has planned for dinner?” Ji asked. “I hope not dog. I never feel right eating dog.”

“It was fish this afternoon,” Jath’ibaye replied. He clearly hadn’t paid much attention to the dinner preparations.
 

“Fish might be worth the walk,” Ji said. “Buttered bird would definitely be worth it, but there aren’t too many birds this time of year. Not big juicy ones. Fish, though…I don’t know.”

“Shall I carry you?” Jath’ibaye offered.

Kahlil saw Ji’s teeth flash, but he wasn’t sure if it was meant to be a smile or threat. Ji’s expressions and gestures were an odd blur of both animal and human. He recalled that his sister had become deeply animalistic when she had worn that same body. He supposed that living in the flesh of a dog had to have an effect on Ji as well, especially after so many years.
 

Jath’ibaye understood Ji. He knelt and picked her up. She relaxed against him. Her head hung over his shoulder. Her paws curled in against his chest. In Jath’ibaye’s arms, she looked like a strange, exhausted child.

Kahlil walked beside Jath’ibaye, matching his fast pace. They walked close. From time to time their shoulders brushed. They exchanged smiles in the darkness.
 

In the silence Kahlil contemplated both Ji and Jath’ibaye. Neither was quite natural and yet they both clung to their humanity.
 

Kahlil supposed that he struggled far less than either of them. He did not resist his abilities or the nature of his body. Both Ji and Jath’ibaye would have been more careful, but then perhaps that was why they needed him.

For the first time since he’d crossed from Nayeshi, Kahlil felt a glimmer of old pride and even a little of his old faith returning. He’d wondered why Parfir had allowed him to cross through the broken Great Gate and return to Basawar. The answer now coalesced within him: he still had a purpose. Loshai hunted Jath’ibaye and only Kahlil had the skill and the will to protect him.

 
As they strode through the courtyard of Jath’ibaye’s household, a succulent roasting scent floated over them. Ji’s eyes opened slightly. She smiled, an almost perfectly human smile, and said, “Roasting doves.”