The mals looked at each other, then one of them leaned over and spoke. “That all there are of you? I don’t see any mals.”
“Our mals are dead. We are the Remnant of Shishim.”
“Those little ‘ns, they anyas, huh?”
“The littlest are femlits, but, yes, there are anyas among us. Will you give us water? Will you help us on the way to Linojin?”
“Why go on? We can give you shelter here.”
“We have sworn an Obligation to visit the Grave of the Prophet and pray for our dead. Until this is done, we cannot think of our own needs.”
“Vumah vumay, so be it. Follow the wall around the corner, you’ll see a corral with some milkers in it. There’s a well by the fence. You can get water from there. And don’t worry, we won’t interfere with you.”
Luca stayed back, the rifle she’d taken from the thieves held visible. The anyas and the children waited with her while Nyen and Xaca led the packers over to join Wintshikan. More villagers joined the men on the wall and stood silently watching them as they worked, watering the stock and filling the skins.
As they started to leave, the man who’d spoken before raised his voice again. “There’s a river about a day’s ride north of here, be sure to fill up good when you get there, it’s five days to Linojin from there and you won’t find more. It’s all salt marsh and sand. Go with God, Pilgrims. Pray for us as well as your own. And pray with us all for peace and destruction to the Fence.”
As the sun went down behind the rounded hills, Luca stood on a patch of grass that grew near the top of a dune and stared out across the sea at the golden glimmer that turned copper where it pulled down red from the sunset sky.
Wintshikan joined her. “What are you thinking?”
“About that.” She jabbed her thumb at the Fence. “About one of those songs that fem sang. The one that calls us puppets dancing to the jerk of Ptakkan strings. Do you think that’s it, Heka? Do you think that’s why we’re dying?”
“I don’t know. The war’s gone on so long. It’s hard to know why.”
Luca moved her shoulders impatiently. “I can’t remember when I knew what I wanted or why I was born. I’ve been looking at that thing out there and I think I do know.
Now. I’m going to pull it down, Heka. I don’t know how, but that’s what I’m going to do.”
3. Song and riddle
Yseyl shifted position again, ignoring, the glare from the mal sitting on the bench beside her. That bench was hard on the tailbones and she’d been sitting there since the door opened, sliding up inch by inch as one of Noxabo’s aides talked to those ahead of them, arranged appointments for later, or waved the petitioner on to the next hoop to jump through before he got to see the Arbiter himself.
She’d gone first to listen to the Prophet Speaker preach. He was good, he’d gotten that crowd stirred up and seeing visions. He even won through her defenses, started her blood pounding until her mind broke through the glitter of the words and the force that shone from the man, and she remembered how much she didn’t believe the things he was saying.
Still, this was what she needed, if she could just trust him-and get him to believe her.
Yseyl left the meeting and went to find Zot.
“Word is he’s dumb as a rock. It’s his anya that writes those things and tells him what to do. I know one of the girls that clean the Tent. Weird calling that big mess of stone a tent, but there it is. Anyway this Beritha, she says Anya Hukhu’s got the teeth of a shark and a blob of iron where xe’s heart should be. Only thing xe cares about is that wikiwic.”
“So I should get to xe.”
“No use trying unless it’s somethin’ big. And somethin’ that’s gonna make him look real good.”
“It just might be.”
When she went back to the Tent the next morning, there was chaos. People huddling in little groups, shocked, angry, grieved. Others clung to each other, sobbing and wailing.
Anya Hukhu was dead, the Blessed Kuxagan was having hysterics somewhere, no mistaking that voice.
She listened, slipped in a question here, a question there, and built a picture of what had happened.
There’d been some sort of warning about assassins and Hukhu had set up a ring of anyas to screen out all strangers and two rings of armed guards, but the assassins had come through the roof somehow and gotten past the outer ring before they were discovered. Two of them were dead, offworld women they were, and why they tried it no one had a clue. The third had almost gotten to Kuxagan, but Hukhu threw xeself between them and stabbed the stranger with a poison knife at the very moment she was killing xe.
Yseyl slipped away, angry and frustrated. It seemed almost as if the Ptaks had known what she was planning and had struck to stop it. In her calmer moments she knew that couldn’t be true, but the realization didn’t help quiet her stomachs.
Before nightfall the city was buzzing with the news that there were three attempts at assassination, all expected, all thwarted. Six offworlders were dead, the rest had gotten away. And everything was closed down. No suppliants allowed anywhere except the petitioners in the Arbiter’s Office. Noxabo wasn’t there, of course; like the other targets he’d gone to ground. There was speculation about where he was, but it was all wild rumor. Those who knew weren’t talking.
Another four petitioners were called into the Aides’ cubicles. Yseyl slid along the bench, then thrust her feet out over the braided rush matting that covered the floor. She opened her feet into a wide vee, brought the toes tapping together. Did it again. And again. Till the mal beside her dug his elbow into her side.
“Stop that, fern. You’re driving me crazy.”
She scowled at him, shifted the scowl to the far wall.
Assassins. Cerex said the Ptak wanted the war to go on and on till all Imps and Pixa were dead. Until now Linojin’s been out of the war. They’re trying to change that. On the radio… I-need a radio, I’m missing too much just listening to people talk… the news… phelas attacking the neutral cities… they want it all, the Ptaks do, that’s what it is. They want it all. I’ve got the way… if only someone would listen to me… I’ve got the way out… God… I wish I believed… I wish I could pray and feel like it meant something… God! Any god that allows this obscenity…
Three armed mals came from the back room beyond the Aides’ cubicles. They stood by the door looking grim and ready for anything. She’d seen phelas like that, waiting in ambush as she used her gift to slip round them. Those mals were ready to kill anyone in this hallway, to shoot at a cross-eyed look, an unconsidered scuff of a foot.
The oldest of the Aides came out of his cubicle. “Petition time is over,” he said. “Give your names to the scribe at the door. You’ll be first in tomorrow.”
As Yseyl stepped onto the walkway, Zot came from an alley and began walking along beside her. “No joy?”
“Scribe took down names. Aide said those’d be first in tomorrow.”
“Bribe’s two ounces silver to make sure your name stays on that list.”
“It isn’t on there now. I didn’t bother.” She wrinkled her nose at the crimson glow in the west. “One day wasted is more than enough. Want some dinner? I’ll buy.”
“Won’t say no to that. Plenty of time. Mehl] wants to see you, but not till seventh hour.”
“Why?”
“Xe din’t say.”
Zot dragged the piece of bread through the gravy, popped it in her mouth. After she swallowed, she said, “Mehll doesn’t like me talking to you. Xe said I should stay away from you, you’re a killer.”
“Xe’s right.”
“Who’d you kill?”
“You told me once go find a whore, I’ll tell you the same.”
Zot giggled. “That’d be a sight, that would.” The giggles trailed to a sigh. “This place is a dead bore. Mehll says you’re a thief, too. Howdya get to be one? I’m dying to get outta here.”
“You wouldn’t want to try my route, young Zot. I ran away and the first mal who found me was a thief. He taught me about locks and planning. He also had some peculiar tastes.” She blinked, looked into the wide eyes of the child. Not innocent eyes. Zot had already seen more of the evil that people do to each other than any child should. “He was impotent, you know about that? Yes, I see you do. But he could still get those feelings when the setup was right. He liked to watch rough mals beat me and have sex with me. Sometimes two or three a night. He taught me a lot. You wanted to know who I killed. Well, he was the first. There are things a lot worse than being bored, Zot. And if you go where you don’t have friends, you’re going to find them. Real fast.”