Markswoman Read online

  And then she was through the gateway and Sikandra Fort rose before her in all its splendor. The floor beneath was paved with cool gray stone. A massive, rectangular edifice lay directly ahead, surrounded by a covered portico. Smaller buildings and intricate sculptures dotted the paved courtyard in which Kyra found herself. And to each side of the main building were the tall towers she had seen from the hill.

  Kyra longed to linger and read the inscriptions on the sculptures, and explore the small buildings, which looked like temples or memorials. But there was no time. She made her way to the main building, like everyone else. Serving girls and boys were stationed at the top of the steps leading to the entrance hall. Kyra accepted a welcome drink of strained yogurt and stood aside, wincing at its sour taste.

  There were so many people, of every hue and garb imaginable. Kyra knew that there were hundreds of clans and tribes in Asiana under the Kanun of Ture-asa. But knowing was one thing, and seeing quite another. The representatives flowed up the stairs, chattering to one another in myriad tongues. This was Asiana, and Sikandra Fort was the heart of it all—at least for one day in the year. How Nineth would envy her this particular adventure.

  As she thought of Nineth, her excitement drained away, replaced by numbness. No, Nineth would not envy her. Nineth would tell her that she was mad for challenging Tamsyn, and attempt to drag her to safety, much the way Shurik had.

  Thinking of Shurik turned out to be better. Some of her anger returned and Kyra squared her shoulders, straightened her back, and strode in behind the last of the stragglers with such a firm step that she almost bumped into three elderly women in front of her. Embarrassed, she apologized and slunk into a corner, keeping her face hidden beneath her hood. She scanned the people around her, trying to spot the elders of Kali.

  But the crowd was too thick, and the hall itself simply enormous, a vast, circular space lined with arched doorways and elongated windows of brilliant colored glass that let in a muted light. A domed ceiling soared overhead, painted in rich detail with animals, people, and what looked to be strange hybrids—half-human, half-machine. The floor was smooth marble, patterned with concentric rings of an intricate geometric design that made you dizzy if you looked at them too long. Yes, it was easy to imagine that kings had once held court in this graceful space.

  The Hall of Sikandra reminded Kyra of the place Shirin Mam had taken her to in Anant-kal, the night she gave her a “last lesson” in words of power. There were differences in the shape and size of the halls, and in the quality of light that streamed into them. But the feel was the same. They both belonged to a different world, a world that was now gone. They were all gone—the kings and queens, the men and women of learning and talent, and, above all, the mythic Ones who had graced Asiana with their presence all those hundreds of years ago.

  But Kyra could almost believe that their ghosts still lingered in the hall. Almost see, with her inner eye, the red velvet robe of a queen dragging on the marble floor as she walked, arm in arm, with her consort.

  “Hear me. Hear me now.” The stern voice echoed across the hall, and all laughter and talking died away. Kyra craned her neck to see who had spoken.

  In the center of the hall stood a bent old woman with a wrinkled face and silver hair, leaning on a staff that appeared to be almost twice her height. When she was satisfied that she had everyone’s attention, she spoke again:

  “I, Unduni Arallin, headwoman of the clan of Arallin, keeper of the Black River Forest, do welcome you to Sikandra for the two hundred fifty-third clan assembly of Asiana. May the light of the Kanun shine on you.”

  “May the light of the Kanun shine on you,” they murmured in response.

  “As the mediator,” continued Unduni, “I stand between Order and clan. Heads, sit down, please. We had best not waste time, for I see that we have many items to discuss, or shall I say, argue about, today.”

  There were a few dutiful titters and a great rustling as people began to sort themselves out. Everyone obviously knew where to go and how to arrange themselves. Clan elders and heads sat down on chairs, surrounded by the younger members of their families. The Orders walked past Unduni and settled down behind her in five tight little groups.

  Kyra stood petrified in the middle of the purposeful rush, not knowing where to stand or with whom.

  And then she spotted Tamsyn strolling to one of the chairs behind Unduni, looking as elegant and lethal as ever. Kyra held her breath and released it slowly, trying to still the panic that rose within her at the sight of her deadly enemy. All the time she had spent with the Order of Khur, learning new ways to fight, seemed to blow away like dust. Kyra felt like a novice again, weak and unprepared for the challenge she had set herself.

  Navroz, Mumuksu, Chintil, and Felda sat down behind Tamsyn. Kyra’s heart gave a little swoop of fear and longing as she regarded the elders of Kali. Navroz looked old and tired in a way she never had before. Mumuksu wore an expression caught between fear and anticipation. Chintil’s face was masklike and she held herself rigid, as if she wished to hide every emotion she had ever felt. Only Felda looked her usual gruff self. Kyra longed to reach out to them, get their news, and share her own. She wished she could somehow communicate with them without alerting Tamsyn.

  Or did she? How far could she trust even them? Perhaps Tamsyn had subverted them to her way of thinking by now. Perhaps Shirin Mam and her teachings were but a distant memory, and Kyra a mere irritant to be removed.

  Kyra stopped herself. She had to focus on the duel; the elders could be dealt with later. She was lucky that the use of Mental Arts was forbidden in the hall, or Tamsyn would certainly have sensed her presence by now.

  She edged near a group of men and women standing close to the center of the hall. It would appear as if she belonged to their clan, and she would be able to see everything that was happening. Her eyes went past the mediator to the lone group of men, and her heart did another somersault. There was Rustan, looking as if he had swallowed a stone that was slowly poisoning him. There was the Maji-khan, grave and impassive, his hand resting on Rustan’s shoulder.

  Kyra could hear the thoughts of the Markswomen surrounding the Order of Khur:

  Mere men, sitting here as if they are our equals.

  Men wielding kataris, it’s a disgrace.

  Why don’t they stay away in that godforsaken desert of theirs so we aren’t reminded of their existence every year?

  And, oddly:

  That young dark-haired one is rather good-looking. I wonder who he reminds me of?

  Kyra gave a start. Who had been thinking that perilous thought? Her gaze swept over the Markswomen, but their impassive faces gave no clue to what was going on in their individual minds. No way to find out without using the Mental Arts.

  The Marksmen, for their part, seemed impervious to the cold glances and occasional mutters aimed at them. Perhaps they were used to it, but Kyra felt a stab of indignation on their behalf.

  If anyone had the right to bear the Order of Khur a grudge, it was her. But living with the Marksmen, she had never once thought that they were the enemy, or even that different from her. Of course, she didn’t understand the way they processed emotions. And there had been that debacle with Shurik, which still hurt and angered her to think of.

  But on the whole, she had got along with the Marksmen just fine. She even liked most of them—okay, no one could like Ishtul, but he was an elder and elders didn’t count. The only person she had disliked at Khur was Astinsai, and Astinsai was a woman.

  Why were the other Orders ill at ease with Khur? Could it be that the Markswomen were afraid of the Marksmen, and they hid their fear under a layer of disdain?

  Unduni rapped on the floor three times with her staff. A chair had appeared behind her and a girl stood next to it with a tray, presumably for when the mediator got tired or thirsty. But for now Unduni stood, her eyes somber, her face grave.

  “First, I must inform you that Shirin Mam, Mahimata of the Order of K
ali, is dead.”

  Murmurs and sounds of distress broke out among the people gathered in the hall. It appeared that not everyone present had heard of the passing of the old Mahimata of Kali, although they must have marked her absence at the assembly today.

  “She will be missed,” continued Unduni. “A great leader, who brought several clans of Asiana under the aegis of the Kanun. May she find peace in the world beyond.”

  “May she find peace,” echoed the hall.

  Unduni’s voice assumed a brisk tone. “Tamsyn Turani has succeeded Shirin Mam as the Mahimata of Kali. I am sure you will join me in extending our good wishes to her for a long and peaceful reign.”

  The hall was utterly silent as people took in this news. The Hand of Kali was famous in Asiana, but Kyra doubted the word peaceful had ever been used in conjunction with her name. Even Unduni looked skeptical as she said it.

  Tamsyn got up and said in sweet, sorrowful tones, “I thank you, Unduni Arallin. Shirin Mam was my teacher and friend. It is a great honor to be appointed in her place, but I am not worthy. No one is worthy.”

  Kyra dug her nails into her palms at the sound of Tamsyn’s voice. Time had done nothing to dilute her hatred of it. The lying hypocrite. Could no one else see through her?

  It appeared Unduni could, for she said, a shade coolly, “Indeed. Moving on to my second announcement, I have great pleasure in welcoming the tribe of Vedarsa from the island of Cochy to this assembly.” She gestured with her hands, and the group of scantily clad folk Kyra had seen earlier rose from where they were squatting on the floor and gave deep bows. Everyone cheered and clapped.

  Tamsyn sat down, her face betraying nothing, but Kyra could imagine how angry she was. She would already be planning some distant, long-range revenge against Unduni for not giving her the proper respect that was her due as the new Mahimata.

  Unduni continued speaking, moving from one item to the next with rapid ease, pausing only to take a few sips of tea. More deaths and appointments were announced, as well as reports on the rainfall and crops produced in different regions and the volume of trade between major towns.

  Finally Unduni put away the scrolls she had been consulting from time to time, and sat down with a sigh of relief. “Well, that’s all the routine items dealt with. We move on to a far more serious issue, that of outlaw activity in the Thar Desert. I ask Faran Lashail, the head of the Order of Valavan, to make her report to the assembly.”

  Kyra craned her neck as Faran Lashail strode to the center of the hall and stood next to Unduni’s chair. The head of the Order of Valavan was tall and graceful, with oak-dark skin and flashing black eyes. Her hair was coiled like a serpent on her head. A katari hung around her neck, glittering aquamarine against her pristine white clothes—a sleeveless blouse cropped at the midriff, and a rectangular length of cloth wrapped around her waist like a skirt, with one end draped over her shoulder.

  “Thank you, Unduni,” she said, her voice deep and musical. “I do have rather disturbing news from the Thar. It appears that the Taus, the only outlaws in Asiana armed with death-sticks, are amassing an army in the desert. We do not yet have the exact numbers, but our spies report that they are training over a thousand men to fight.”

  There were gasps in the hall. Kyra crossed her arms, cold and light-headed. Was this because of her? Had her first mark set this chain of events into motion? She should have killed Kai Tau that night in the Thar when she had the chance.

  No. Her mark had been Maidul, and no one else. And surely Shirin Mam would not have assigned her such a mark if she knew what they risked.

  A voice called out, “To fight whom? And why?”

  “Precisely what I asked myself,” said Faran. “The Taus have kept to themselves for years and I wondered why they would escalate their activities in this blatant way. Then I found out that a Markswoman of Kali had entered our territory,” and here she threw a cold look at the elders of Kali, “and executed Maidul, the eldest son of the outlaw leader Kai Tau.”

  Voices rose in excited discussion and Unduni rapped the floor with her staff again. “Silence!” she said. “I ask Tamsyn Turani to speak to the hall, and explain what happened.”

  Tamsyn stood up and spread her hands. “What can I say? Shirin Mam did not consult any of us in this matter, or I at least would have spoken against it. Suffice it to say that the Markswoman in question was a girl named Kyra Veer. You will remember that the clan of Veer was slaughtered by the outlaw Kai Tau and his men. It was a matter of revenge, I understand, and the girl would not rest until the Mahimata agreed to send her to the Thar. She had an inexplicable fondness for the girl, and could not refuse her.”

  Kyra’s cheeks burned in anger. That was not how it had happened, and Tamsyn knew it. She was making it sound as if Kyra was some sort of a spoiled favorite of the old Mahimata.

  Faran gazed at Tamsyn in an assessing way. “What’s done is done,” she said. “We must find a way to meet this threat. Kai Tau is obviously planning to attack the Orders; we are all that stand between him and absolute control of Asiana. He can wreak havoc with those kalashiks. Dozens of innocent people have already been killed—and that’s just the start.”

  Kyra’s stomach clenched. People were dying and it was all her fault. She would have to find a way to defeat Kai Tau. It was no longer just a matter of vengeance for the slaughter of her clan.

  “Surely we can deal with the outlaws?” came a throaty, contemptuous voice. A large, fair-haired woman rose from one of the chairs, adding, “May I speak, Unduni?”

  “You may, Ikina Furshil.” Unduni inclined her head.

  Ikina Furshil. That was the name of the head of the Order of Zorya. Kyra remembered the story of Zibalik’s wolves. Barkav had implied that the Zoryans did not hunt wyr-wolves, believing, as the Order of Khur did, that the wolves were part human.

  Ikina glided forward with catlike grace, the white falcon embroidered on her midnight blue robes rippling as she walked. She stared at those gathered around, her stormy gray eyes so compelling that many flinched away from them. “What are a few outlaws against the might of the Orders?” she demanded. “We can break a man’s mind before he thinks to reach for a weapon. Fourteen years ago we promised to protect the clans from these murderers. It is time we fulfilled our promise and destroyed the Taus, once and for all.”

  Murmurs rose at this, subsiding as Unduni waved an imperious hand.

  “How many will you kill?” said Faran. “A thousand? Two thousand?”

  “It will be enough to kill the Taus,” said Ikina. “Leaderless, the rest will lay down their weapons quickly enough.”

  “And how do you propose to get close enough to the Taus to overpower them?” inquired Faran. “They are armed with a dozen death-sticks—or have you forgotten?”

  Ikina’s eyes flashed. “There are ways of approaching unseen—or have you forgotten? We steal in upon them, we take them by surprise.”

  “Too risky,” said Faran. “They will be expecting us. Perhaps they are even inviting us. All it would take is one guard armed with a single death-stick to take down dozens of Markswomen before one of us gets close enough to use the Inner Speech.”

  “And even that would not work against Kai Tau himself.”

  All heads jerked toward the Order of Khur. Barkav’s thoughtful voice, deeply male, seemed to send a current through the Markswomen around him. Some glared at him openly, while others crossed their arms and turned their faces away. Kyra was torn between amusement and anger at their reactions. Did they not understand that he was on their side?

  Tamsyn rose from her chair. “I wonder how many present here are aware that Kai Tau is skilled in the Mental Arts?” she said. “That he developed his skills at the Order of Khur, under the tutelage of Maheshva?”

  An uneasy hush fell on the hall. Kyra held her breath, wondering how many were learning this for the first time. Tamsyn had timed her interjection well.

  Unduni cleared her throat. “Well, that’s all in the
past, and we are here to discuss what to do about . . .” Her voice trailed away as Barkav stood, his bulk menacing compared to Tamsyn’s slender form.

  “Yes, Kai trained at the Order of Khur,” said Barkav. “He became a renegade over twenty years ago, as you must be aware.”

  Tamsyn’s eyes widened. “Oh, I didn’t in the least mean to cast any blame on the Order of Khur. But I thought—since he was one of yours—that you may wish to be at the forefront of any assault on the Tau camp. It is fitting, is it not? Unless”—and her tone became amused, a little condescending—“unless you think you and your men are not quite up to the task.”

  Faran and Ikina both turned to stare at Barkav. There was pin-drop silence in the hall.

  Kyra’s fists clenched. Tamsyn had trapped Barkav by implying that Kai Tau was their responsibility, and if there was dying to be done, the Marksmen should be the ones doing it. She hoped that the Maji-khan would not rise to the bait.

  Barkav’s eyes had become flints. Beside him, the Khur elders looked furious. But Rustan’s face was blank, as if his mind was elsewhere.

  When Barkav spoke again, his voice was as calm as ever. “Yes, it would be fitting. We would have gone after Kai years ago, were it not for the words of our seer and katari mistress, Astinsai. According to Astinsai, there is another who must be consulted on the fate of the Taus.”

  Kyra realized to her horror that Barkav was looking straight at her. He meant her.

  Tamsyn gave a silvery little laugh. “As I expected, the Order of Khur wriggles out of its responsibility with words that mean nothing.” Before Barkav could respond, she addressed Faran. “I have the perfect plan to eliminate the Taus without risking a single drop of our blood. You may leave it to the Order of Kali. I need from you only two things.”