Angels and Djinn, Book 3: Zariel's Doom (19 page)

The falconer rubbed his eyes. “So what? I’m supposed to stay here, trusting you people to feed us and wash her soiled clothes, day after day?”

“Yes, you are.”

“Why? Why do you care what happens to me?” Zerai wanted to stand up and make a good show of trying to intimidate the woman, but his back was aching from carrying Nadira and he didn’t want to risk waking her now. It had taken so long to get her to settle down. “I don’t care about your fight with the Arrahim, or even with the djinn. I just want to leave.”

Lamia stopped pacing and stared at him for a moment, and then she knelt down in front of him. “You know, I’ve been very patient with you. We all have. We risked everything, we risked a rift between the clerical houses, over you. You and this little girl. And we’ve been taking care of you ever since. And not once have we asked you why they wanted her.”

“I know. Thank you for that,” he said dryly. “Because it’s none of your business. Or theirs. We don’t belong here, and I wish I’d never come here, and the minute you let me leave, I will be gone like the last star at dawn. You’ll never see me again. I promise.”

“No, we know that you want to leave.” Lamia went on staring at him. “But I think it’s time we learned what the seers want with this child. Because sooner or later, they are going to come for us, and we’re going to have to choose whether or not to fight our own brothers and sisters. And the only way we can make that choice is if we know what we are really fighting for.”

Zerai shook his head. “No.”

“No?”

“Listen,” he hissed as loudly as he dared. “I’m not asking you to fight at all. What part of that are you not understanding? Just get me out of the city and that’ll be the end of it. You can tell the seers whatever you want, and they’ll forget about it because you all have bigger things to worry about, like the djinn who killed all your friends. Remember that?”

She stood up and strode to the doorway. “I’ll come back later.”

She slammed the door shut, and Nadira woke with a sharp jolt. A moment later, she started to babble loudly and angrily. Zerai hushed her and rocked her, and while she soon settled down, she did not go back to sleep. She sat in the crook of his arm, her thumb planted in her mouth, looking around the room.

It was little more than a cell, a stone room with one door and one narrow window that looked out over a busy street. The only furnishing was the old mattress he was sitting on, and the bucket in the corner.

Zerai’s glared at the bucket. A fly buzzed in crooked circles around it and came to land on the lip of it. And then it buzzed around some more.

Absolutely not. Not for one more damn minute.

He stood up and quickly fashioned a sling for a Nadira using his jacket so she was held securely against his chest, and then he went to the door and kicked it with all his strength.

 The narrow wooden planks crunched, but held. He kicked again and a long black crack raced up to the ceiling. He kicked again and the door crunched outward and hung there, letting in a thin sliver of light from the next room.

He could hear the clerics in the next room arguing loudly. They wanted to come back and stop him. They were worried someone would hear the noise. But Lamia was holding them back, Lamia was telling them to wait.

Zerai hesitated, and then kicked the door clean open. A loose board clattered on the floor and the falconer stood in the empty doorway, one hand on the back of Nadira’s head, the other hand hovering above the hilt of his sword. Five people stood between him and the next door. One Juranim with his bow in hand, three huge Sophirim, and Lamia.

No one spoke.

Zerai felt his heart racing. His hands and face went flush with a sudden heat and his mouth went dry. He let his empty hand hang at his side. He shook his head. “Look. The Arrahim chased me down and tried to lock me up. I didn’t do anything wrong. They didn’t have any right. But now you’ve got me locked up, and I still haven’t done anything wrong, and you don’t have any right either.”

One of the Sophirim with the enormous arms took a step forward, but Lamia raised a finger and he stopped.

“And from where I’m standing, I’m a prisoner either way,” Zerai continued. “So either you let me leave right now, or you’re just the same miserable bastards they are, and I hope you all die in a miserable, bloody civil war while I sit in this room and wait for the djinn to come back and kill the winners. So what’s it going to be?”

Lamia looked at him hard, her muscled arms folded across her chest. She looked back at her men, and then back at him. “He’s right. We have better things to do than play babysitter.”

“Meaning?” the archer asked.

“Meaning I want you all to go join the others at the library and keep an eye on the seers,” Lamia said. “I’ll get these two out of the city and then come find you.”

“You’re sure?” The big man with the huge arms looked confused.

“Yeah.” Lamia gazed steadily at the falconer. “The Arrahim expect us to play this the same way they would. Fight over the baby, turn on each other, break up into factions. But we’re not going to play their game. What’re we going to do with a baby anyway? We have a city to protect.”

The other Sophirim nodded and the clerics filed out into the bright sunlight and melted into the foot traffic on the road outside.

Zerai watched them go, and then found himself alone with Lamia. The cleric hovered by the door, peering out at the passing crowd.

“You’re letting me go? Just like that?” he asked.

“Why? Did you change your mind?”

“No. I’m just… curious.”

“Well, you were right.” She kept her eyes on the people outside. “We’re a breath away from riots in the streets. Everybody’s scared. Everybody lost somebody. Half of us are homeless. No one’s getting enough sleep, or enough to eat.”

Zerai glanced back into the room with the mattress and bucket and thought of the trays of food they had brought him and Nadira. “I didn’t know it was that bad.”

“Well, it’s that bad.”

He paused. “And you? Did you lose your home? Or someone?”

“My home,” she said softly. “And my husband.”

“I’m sorry.”

She shook her head and spoke in a flat voice. “The house was near the wall. When I realized what was happening, I tried to get there, but I was too late. The house had already collapsed. I dug him out, but he was gone. I think it was quick. I hope it was.”

Zerai said nothing as he swayed in place, shushing the little girl.

“All right, let’s go.” Lamia waved him forward. “We’re heading straight for the canal and I’ll put you on the first boat out of the city, all right? You’ll have to make your way on your own after that.”

“Good. That’s good. Thank you.” A brief thought of Veneka flitted through his mind. He knew he should go to her, talk to her, make this decision together with her.

But why? Because that’s how we always do it? Out of habit?

When I thought she was dead on the beach, I wanted to die, but… But there was a light in that darkness. I could walk away from all of this.

Because this isn’t my world.

These clerics and their angels, all of it. I don’t belong here. Never did. And if she doesn’t understand that, then I guess that’s just one more reason for me to go.

A sense of duty and obligation still tugged at him, telling him to go to her, to tell her that this was the end, to make her understand why, to make sure she would be all right without him.

If there was time. If it was safe. If I could trust anyone in this city. But getting Nadira out is too important. Ven will just have to live with that.

As they slipped out the door and into the evening press of bodies and the soft white noise of voices, he said to Lamia, “When I’m gone, can you do one thing for me?”

“You mean one
more
thing?”

“Yes.” They turned a corner and began moving faster down a broad avenue. “Find the Razielim from Naj Kuvari. They’re led by a woman named Veneka. Can you tell her what happened to me? Tell her that I had to leave, with the baby, and that she may not see me again. Ever. Can you just tell her that for me?”

“Who is she to you?”

“I don’t know anymore. We never married, but we’ve been together for, well, years.”

“And you’re just leaving her like this?”

“It’s complicated. Lately, we haven’t been…” He sighed. “It doesn’t matter. Just tell her, please.”

Lamia tossed a frown back at him and continued to lead the way through the crowd, moving north across the city, block by block, toward the canal that carried the Shivalan ships out to sea. Zerai had just glimpsed the masts of the xebecs moored along the quay when a woman shouted his name. The falconer turned, looking sharply all around, but Lamia grabbed his arm and propelled him forward. He could feel her using her divine gift to make his body a little lighter so he could move a little faster, and together they darted through the crowd.

“Zerai!” the voice shouted again.

This time he thought it sounded familiar, but he couldn’t tell who it was and Lamia gave him no time to look back again. They were sprinting now, their feet barely touching the ground as they ran. Zerai tried not to look down at his shoes because the sensation of moving so quickly coupled with the feeling of so little of his body weight on his legs was beginning to nauseate him.

“Stop right there!” Two blazing arrows slammed into the wall of a house right in front of Lamia and the warrior stopped short to avoid smacking her face on the white-hot missiles embedded in the bricks.

Zerai felt her release his arm and suddenly his body weighed as much as it always did, and for a moment he felt like a column of marble, his muscles barely able to keep him standing upright. But the moment passed and everything snapped back into focus. He spun around, looking for the shooter, and he saw her standing on a crate just half a block behind them.

“Kiya.”

Lamia glared at the archer. “You know her?”

“I did.”

“Is she with the Arrahim?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

“Then we run.”

They ducked under the arrows in the wall and dashed toward the quay, with Kiya shouting out his name behind them. An arrow whistled over his head and he flinched away, realizing too late that she was missing on purpose.

I know she won’t kill me. And she knows I know that. So what is she doing?

The next arrow sliced through the fabric of his trousers, and the stiff feathers of the desert hawks fletching the arrow caught on the torn fabric so that the arrow hung from his thigh, thumping against his leg with every step. The arrow head sizzled, charring his pants as it swung in time with his steps.

“Get behind me!” Lamia shoved him with one hand as she picked up a small cart with the other. Two small casks tumbled out of the cart and slammed to the ground as the Sophirim tipped it upright to shield them. A merchant in orange robes started to yell at her, but he stopped when he saw her gray tunic and gauntlets, and he seemed quite torn between his respect for her and his desire to recover his cart. All around him, people began to stop and stare, wondering at the strange sight.

“I really don’t think that cart’ll stop her,” Zerai said.

Two arrows smashed through the cart in quick succession, both of them cloaked in a cold white mist. The planks of the cart instantly froze, creaked, and crackled apart, spilling to the ground in a cascade of icy splinters. The handful of gawkers quickly transformed into a panicking mob as people struggled to get away from the clerics, fighting to squeeze down narrow alleys or to run along the waterfront without falling into the canal.

“Maybe not.” Lamia tossed the remains of the cart aside.

“Okay, just let me talk to her, let me try,” Zerai said quickly. And before she could object, he shouted down the street, “Kiya! Stop shooting! I’ve got the baby!”

“I know, you idiot! That’s why I’m saving you!” Kiya shouted back, her bow drawn.

“No! No! She’s not taking me!” He waved at her to lower the bow. “She’s helping me!”

“Helping?” Kiya lowered her bow, slightly. “Why? Where are you going?”

“Look, it doesn’t matter. Just let us go. I’m going to keep Nadira safe.”

The Juranim archer frowned as she jumped down from her perch and strode forward. What few people were still in the street now ran for cover, dodging into doorways and side-lanes.

“That’s close enough,” Lamia said. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Kiya stared past the gray-clad cleric, ignoring the threat. “Zerai, what’s really going on? Veneka has half the city looking for you and that girl. And I heard something about a fight at the library. Was that you?”

“Sort of. Yes.” He frowned at her, and at Lamia, and at the boats behind him waiting to set sail and leave the city of the magi behind. “Listen. The seers at the library looked at Nadira and then they tried to lock us up, me and her. The Sophirim caught me, but then they helped me get away. So now I need to leave before this gets out of hand.”

“Any more than it already has,” Lamia muttered.

“And what? You were going to take a ship back out into that storm?” Kiya shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re thinking. All I know is that Veneka asked me to bring you back to the palace, safe and sound, and that’s what I’m going to do.”

“So you’re taking orders from her now?” Zerai asked.

“No. But I trust her. Don’t you? I don’t understand why we’re even having this conversation, Zerai.” The archer glared at him. “Whatever happened at the library, you’re safe now and you’ll be safe at the palace. I promise. Now let’s go.”

Zerai shook his head. “No. I’m not going back. I’m leaving. It’s the only way to keep Nadira safe.”

“Well, it’s not your decision.” Kiya leveled an arrow at his leg. “So start walking, or start limping.”

“You’re not taking them,” Lamia barked. She ripped up a huge square stone from the street at their feet and held it easily in one hand, ready to throw it at the archer. “You’re out-classed.”

“And you’re out-numbered.”

Zerai looked around and suddenly saw a dozen other Juranim crouched on the roofs and at the corners all around him. He slowly raised his empty hands. “You’re making a mistake, Kiya.”