The Fire Seer (2 page)

Mandir turned to the magistrate and said, “Tell us about the suspected jackal.”

Taya blinked. She needed to focus on the mission, not on her partner, but she couldn’t help noticing, now that she was over the initial shock of seeing him, that his voice had changed. It had deepened into a rich, velvety tenor.

“Three people have been murdered, all of them killed in ways consistent with a jackal,” said the magistrate. “Two by fire, one by flood.”

“Who was the first victim?” asked Taya.

The magistrate’s head dipped. “My younger son Hunabi.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Taya. “How was he killed?”

“Burned alive in the middle of a cotton field.”

“How many children had you?”

“Two sons, Kalbi and Hunabi.” He indicated the young man sitting next to him.

Taya nodded. Until she could clear him, the elder brother, Kalbi, would be a suspect. Ruling-caste families were typically polyandrous, with their sons marrying the same woman in order to keep family estates intact. It was a situation that caused tension if the boys did not get along. “How many years separated Kalbi from his younger brother?”

“Three.”

“What was the nature of the brothers’ relationship?”

“I am no jackal,” broke in Kalbi. “I did not kill my brother.”

“I was not making an accusation,” said Taya. “I’m collecting information.”

“The boys were close,” said the magistrate. “They were in harmony.”

“Were they married, or contracted for marriage?”

“A contract was under negotiation at the time of Hunabi’s death. We have set it aside while our house is in mourning.”

Taya exchanged a look with Mandir. The marriage contract might be significant; it would need investigation. “We’ll need details on the marriage contract. What about the other murders? Who were the victims and when did they occur?”

The magistrate opened his mouth to answer. Then a shudder wracked his body, and he closed his eyes.

“Are you all right?” asked Mandir.

“No.” The magistrate turned to his son. “Fetch my attendants. And Rasik.” Kalbi leapt from the table and hurried from the room. The magistrate continued to speak, his voice thready and weak. “The other two victims were girls. The daughter of cloth merchant Bodhan isu Kasirum and the sister of farmer Zashkalim isu Ikkarum. I will assign Rasik to you. He is my clerk, an educated servant, and he knows all the particulars in these cases. He will guide you around the city of Hrappa as you hunt your jackal.”

Footsteps alerted Taya to Kalbi’s return. Another man was with him, the servant who’d taken her livestock at the front steps. The servant frowned, folding his arms in mock indignation. “My lord, have you been at the whiskey again?”

“If only, Rasik,” said the magistrate. “I require you to place yourself at the disposal of these Coalition representatives. Set them up in guesthouses, see that they’re fed and looked after, and show them around town tomorrow morning.”

Rasik made a face. “Perhaps Sukal, or Illia—”

“I give this task to you. And mind your tongue. You know the Coalition.” He turned back to Taya and Mandir. “Forgive his indiscretions. Servants with his skills are nearly impossible to replace.”

More servants arrived, bearing a litter, which they squeezed through the narrow doorway. Something about the magistrate smelled strange, like rotten fruit. It was disconcerting. Taya was relieved when Rasik beckoned her and Mandir from the room.

Chapter 2: Hrappa

Taya followed Rasik out of the Hall of Judgment and across the street to a line of small residential homes. From the outside, each appeared to be a simple rectangle with a wooden door.

“I’ve got you in adjacent houses,” said Rasik. “They share a courtyard.” He opened the door of the nearest and entered. “This one is the lady’s.”

Taya followed. The house was small but serviceable. The main room, clean and well swept, had a table and chairs and some shelving, which, to her surprise and pleasure, already held her saddlebags. At the other end of the room was a simple bed: a straw pallet on a wooden frame made up with blue cotton sheets. Windows opened out onto a courtyard. She took a brief look at the washroom, which contained an empty basin, a clay ewer filled to the brim with fresh water, a toilet, and a drain leading to the sewers outside.

“An attendant will draw your water daily,” said Rasik. “If you need more, the well’s just south of the Hall. Here’s the courtyard.”

He led them through a second wooden door into an outdoor pavilion, where a stunning Amaltas tree spread its green canopy over a carved stone table with matching benches. The tree was not yet in flower, but Taya could only imagine how lovely it would be when its golden blossoms draped over the courtyard like fat bunches of grapes. The space was fully enclosed by the frame of Taya’s guesthouse and three others just like it. Cool evening air pricked at Taya’s arms. The house had been stiflingly hot, and probably always would be in the evenings, except in inclement weather. She noted a cook-pit and some flowering bushes.

“I’m sure you’ll want to eat outdoors on a day like today,” said Rasik.

Taya eyed Mandir. “Actually, I prefer to eat indoors.”

Mandir frowned.

Rasik shrugged. “If you enjoy sweltering.” He indicated the doorway to the house on the right. “Your home, sir. It’s identical to the lady’s. The other two are empty. Someone will bring dinner shortly.”

“Will the other two remain empty?” asked Mandir.

“As far as I know,” said Rasik.

“Inform me at once if anyone is to take up residence in them.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you,” said Taya. “You’ve been most helpful.”

“Of course,” said Rasik. “Try not to set anyone on fire.” He turned and left through Taya’s house.

After one last, longing look at the breezy courtyard, Taya headed indoors.

“Where are you going?” called Mandir.

“Inside,” said Taya.

His footsteps sounded on the stone behind her. “We should eat together, in the courtyard. We have things to discuss.”

“On the contrary. We know nothing about the case so far.”

“Not about the case,” said Mandir. “Other things. It’s been five years.”

“There’s nothing I want to discuss with you.” Taya avoided eye contact and held her speed to a walk, knowing Mandir was the sort of predator who would respond to flight by giving chase. She reached the house just ahead of him, closed the door in his face, and slammed down the bar.

He tried to open the door, discovered he could not, and pounded on it. “Taya! Let me in! I’m your
quradum
!”

Taya’s heart beat wildly. To provoke Mandir was madness, but she had to establish some boundaries. Without limits, there was no telling what he’d do. “I’ll see you in the morning,” she called through the door.

The pounding stopped. She waited by the door, hardly daring to take a breath, until she caught a glimpse of movement through the window. Mandir was actually leaving. He crossed the courtyard to his own house, went inside it, and disappeared.

Taya breathed a sigh of relief. She went to her saddlebags to begin unpacking. As she searched through them for the most critical items, she kept vigil at the window to make sure Mandir didn’t come back. She was just pulling out her silk dress when she realized where he might have gone instead. She ran to the front door just in time to see it fly open with a bang.

Mandir stormed across the tiny house like an enraged bull. “Don’t you
ever
bar that door to me,” he said, lifting the bar from the courtyard door.

Taya clenched the silk dress in her hands. “Don’t
you
come barging into my house!”

“I am your
quradum
,” said Mandir. “As your assigned protector on this mission, I require free access to your person at all times.”

“Access to my person,” Taya repeated incredulously.

“At all times.”

“I trust I get to keep my clothes on?”

Mandir grinned. “Your mind goes some funny places, banana girl.”

Taya despised that nickname. She hadn’t even grown up on a banana farm; her family grew date trees. Mandir had never bothered to ask about her roots. He’d just made assumptions.

Mandir pointed to the dress in her hands. “Is that your silk?”

Taya glanced down. She’d nearly crushed the dress in her hands. “Yes.”

“Flood and fire! Have you no respect for fine fabric?” Mandir took it from her, gently shook it out, and laid it on her bed, straightening the wrinkles. “Also, your hair’s a mess.”

“Thanks for noticing,” said Taya. “So how was your Year of Penance?”

“Enlightening.” Mandir pulled out a chair and sat down, making himself at home.

Taya fumed. Clearly her old nemesis hadn’t changed a bit. “You never served it.”

He looked up in surprise. “Of course I did.”

“You couldn’t possibly have!” cried Taya. “If you had, you would have missed a year of your studies. You would have become a qualified
ilittum
not this year but the next. Yet here you sit in your green and silver.”

“When my Year was up, I spoke to the Triarch about my situation and was granted an accelerated schedule of classes that allowed me to finish on time.”

Taya frowned. That might actually be true. She didn’t doubt Mandir could learn the material faster than anyone else; he’d been the top student in nearly every class at Mohenjo Temple and mocked her while she’d struggled with the basics of reading and writing. But it wasn’t fair that he was always granted special dispensation. People of low caste made one mistake and they were out. Mandir made mistake after mistake and was granted what seemed to be an unlimited number of second chances, plus extra opportunities to catch up when he was behind. Caste wasn’t supposed to matter in the Coalition. But in some ways it did. “Funny how you always seem to bounce back,” said Taya. “Yet there were three Coalition boys who were expelled because of you.”

“Honestly, Taya,” said Mandir. “You don’t care a fig about those boys.”

“You’re right. I don’t care about them. I care that you weren’t expelled along with them.”

“How long are you going to carry that grudge?” asked Mandir.

“Forever,” said Taya. She had every reason to hold a grudge against someone who’d tried to kill her, and for as long as she deemed necessary. “Is this your first mission?”

“Yes.”

“Wonderful,” she muttered.

“Your first as well?” asked Mandir.

Taya nodded.

“Relax, we’ll do fine. You always worried too much.” His eyes dropped to the fire agate on her belt. “So you’re a fire seer now.”

“I know you thought I’d never amount to anything.”

“I never thought that,” said Mandir.

“Let’s put it another way,” said Taya. “You tried very hard to make sure I wouldn’t amount to anything.”

Mandir said nothing.

“You can get out of my house now,” said Taya.

Mandir didn’t move. “I’m not the boy I was five years ago.”

“I’m not the girl I was then either.”

“Just because you’re a fire seer doesn’t mean you can order me around.”

“I’m not ordering you around. I’m telling you to leave me alone when we’re not working on the mission,” said Taya. “And I can see you’re
exactly
the boy you were five years ago.”

“Trust me, there are a few differences.”

Taya looked him over. Indeed there were a few differences, not that she cared. She liked men who respected her, who didn’t see farmer-caste girls as worthless pieces of trash to be laughed at, fucked if they were pretty, and then tossed away. “I know what you are, Mandir. We’re not having dinner together, or speaking to each other at all other than what’s required for this mission. And after the mission, we’re parting ways forever. I’m letting the Coalition know I won’t be partnered with you again.”

Mandir leaned back in his chair. “That’s how it’s going to be?”

“That’s how it’s going to be.”

“Well, I’m taking dinner in the courtyard. It’s an oven in here.” He rose, walked to her front door and barred it, then headed for the courtyard door. “I’m barring the doors of the empty houses. Keep your courtyard door unbarred at all times. That’s an order from your
quradum
. There’s a jackal on the loose, and I need to be able to reach you. Understand?”

“If you’ll stay out,” said Taya grudgingly.

He held up his hand in a touching-fingers gesture. “Good night, banana girl.”

Chapter 3: Mohenjo Temple, Nine Years Ago

Taya was fourteen and terrified. Of the twenty or so initiates who sat with her, whispering among themselves on the floor of rushes, not one of them appeared to be of her caste. Seven of them were ruling caste; they bore the requisite facial tattoos. They had found one another and were comparing bloodlines. The rest seemed all to be artisan caste. Taya had made the mistake of blurting out her full name to the first girl who had asked. That girl had turned away in contempt, and now no one would speak to her.

The door opened, and the room fell silent. A woman wearing the green and silver of an
ilittum
swept into the room and faced the crowd. “In ages past, not long after the Great Atrocity,” she began, “the Valley of the Lioness was home to many quail, yet the quail lived apart, each bird jealous of its own patch of ground.”

Taya blinked in surprise. She had been expecting a lecture, or instruction of some kind, not a story.

“A hunter came to the valley and began trapping the birds,” the
ilittum
continued. “One by one, he caught them with his net. The birds that survived knew that if they did not change their ways, they too would end up in the hunter’s net. So they held a meeting. They decided that from then on, they would stay together, all in one flock, to foil the hunter.

“The hunter came upon them as they were feeding thus, all together, and he thought, ‘Aha! I shall catch them in my net all at once, and feast tonight.’ So he threw his net over the flock. But the quail cried to one another, ‘Now! Together!’ They flew up and lifted the net with them. They lifted it right out of the hunter’s hands. They carried the net over the Lioness and dropped it in the water, where it was lost forever. And that is why, to this day, we never find quail alone.”