10: His Holy Bones (8 page)

Ravishan gave John’s hand a brief squeeze. John looked to him, but Ravishan just smiled at him. John had no idea what had prompted the gesture, but after seeing fear and horror in the faces of so many other people, it reassured him. Ravishan sank back into his chair and closed his eyes. The warmth of the fire lent his pale skin a golden glow.

“So, we don’t tell anyone else?” Tanash asked.

“Not right now,” Ji said.

“What about Sabir?” Giryyn asked.

“It can’t do him any good to know,” Ji replied. “And in any case, I wouldn’t want to risk a message being intercepted by the Payshmura.”

“Ravishan could take it,” Tanash suggested. Ravishan opened his eyes. He only looked half awake. John suddenly wanted to get all of this over with and just take Ravishan back to bed.

“No,” John said firmly. “Ravishan isn’t well enough to go anywhere.”

Ravishan didn’t even bother to argue. He just sighed and closed his eyes again.

“Fikiri could take the message. He’s been here twice already,” Tanash said.

John couldn’t help but notice the way Ji’s brow furrowed at the mention of Fikiri’s name. Ji shook her head.

“I’ll tell Sabir when he returns from the south. He won’t need to know before then,” Ji said.

“And Lafi’shir?” Tai’yu asked.

“We’ll tell him after he’s recovered his strength,” Arren said.

“And as far as anyone else is concerned, Jath’ibaye is simply
an incredibly powerful witch?” Saimura asked.

“You can say he’s a witch or even imply that he’s one of the last Eastern mystics. Something unfamiliar to most people would be a good choice. It doesn’t matter so long as it isn’t the truth,” Ji said.

“And we behave as though nothing has changed?” Pirr’tu asked. “As though the Rifter weren’t here among us?”

“Don’t sound so aggrieved,” Ji replied. “You wanted to know and I have told you. Knowledge has a price. All things considered, I would say that you are paying very little.”

No one commented. The fire crackled. Tai’yu at last threw the kindling he’d been holding into the flames. Saimura turned his carved bone over in his hands. Silence seemed to fill the chamber like a physical presence, isolating each of them and insulating them in their own thoughts. Ravishan’s head tilted back a little and John realized that he’d fallen asleep. His face was beautifully placid, particularly compared to the troubled expressions everywhere else in the room.

“I should get back to the camp,” Ji said at last. She stood and stretched and then looked to John. “I wanted to ask you if you thought you could open up a few trenches in the valley, so we could bury the dead. There are far too many to burn.”

“Of course.” John stood but then hesitated, not wanting to leave Ravishan’s side.

“I’ll see to it that Ravishan is cared for,” Wah’roa offered.

“Thanks,” John said.

“I—” Saimura stood up suddenly. “I have a healing charm for him. I made it last night.” Saimura walked to John and handed him the carved stone.

“Thank you,” John said. He placed the stone in Ravishan’s empty hand. “Thank you,” John said again. It was such a relief to have just this small exchange.

John wanted to say something to the other Fai’daum— something to reassure them that he was still the man they had known. But he doubted that words would have made that much of a difference. He wasn’t the man they had thought they had known. He had to give them time to accept what they had learned. But he took hope in the shy wave Tanash offered him as he left.

He followed Ji out of the watchtower and down the massive stone walkways to the Fai’daum camp. Red Fai’daum banners waved from the eaves of the newly rebuilt buildings. The rich scent of baking taye wafted from some nearby oven. The kitchens were at last warm enough for the bakers to prop their windows open.

Outside, the air was warmer. It would be spring soon, John thought. Crops would need to be sown. He briefly considered the morbid work of tilling the valley, with so many dead buried in its soil.

“You haven’t seen Fikiri, have you?” Ji asked.

“Fikiri?” John frowned. “No. I haven’t seen him since Rathal’pesha. He avoids me, I think. Why?”

“I have seen him in a vision,” Ji began, but then she broke off, shaking her head.

“Is something wrong with Fikiri?”

“Yesterday, while you were down in the valley, he came with news from Sabir. The assault on Umbhra’ibaye will begin this evening.” Ji’s brows knit. “While he was speaking, I saw something. A momentary crack in the future. I caught a flash of the land buckling, walls crumbling, torrents of rain.”

“You think Fikiri could do that?” John asked.

“No. I’m afraid that he might somehow provoke you to do it.”

“I won’t,” John said firmly. “Fikiri annoys me, but that’s all. I am not going to tear down mountains or flood Basawar for forty days and nights because of him.”

Ji’s ears drooped slightly.

“Even if he harmed Ravishan?” Ji asked.

John stopped in his tracks.

“What did you see?” John demanded.

“Fragments, at best.”

“You saw Fikiri hurt Ravishan?” John asked. He couldn’t say kill. He couldn’t even bear to think it.

“I saw them fighting in ruins. Perhaps the remains of Umbhra’ibaye. But it doesn’t make sense. Fikiri looked much older than Ravishan. There were bones there, but nothing like the ones I’ve seen before. Then the vision was gone.”

“But you think Fikiri will attack Ravishan?” John asked.

“No, I didn’t say that,” Ji replied. “All I know is that some event now might lead to that moment in the future. But it might not happen at all.”

John could feel his jaws clenching. “What event will lead to it?”

“I don’t know.” Ji stopped in a patch of sunlight. Her yellow hide lit to a golden glow. She lifted her head into the light. John paused beside her. The warmth of the sunlight poured over his skin. “The vision came to me when Tanash mentioned your name to Fikiri. If I had to guess, I would say that the hatred between the two of you has the potential to escalate to the vision I saw. But it seemed far in the future. If you could make amends with Fikiri, you could probably avoid it completely.”

“And you think this all could happen years from now?”

“If I had to guess I’d say Fikiri looked like he was fifty.”

John relaxed a little. He guessed that even he and Fikiri could make their peace given thirty years.

“All right,” John said. “When I see Fikiri I’ll try to make amends with him.”

“That would be a good thing to do, no matter what. He’s just a boy, you know,” Ji said.

“I know.”

“Good. Take care, Jahn.” Ji turned down the cracked street. She glanced back over her shoulder. “Don’t worry too much. Things will work out. We only need to give them the chance to do so.”

“I’ll give them the chance,” John assured her.

Ji nodded and then padded away.

John continued down out of the fortress and into the valley. There were signs of spring’s approach here as well, but they were not all pleasant. The snow he’d called down the day before had melted completely away. The new warmth sped the decay of thousands of bodies; the odor rising off them exceeded revolting. This time John’s scarf offered him no refuge from the sickening stench of putrid flesh.

 Clouds of iridescent flies swarmed over carcasses and scattered into the air as John passed. They swept over him in dark, glittering masses and then settled again amidst the rotting remains. Where the sun shone directly, snowmelt had coalesced into puddles, turned tracts of soil to mud.

John spent the morning ripping open deep furrows of dark earth, allowing the land to swallow the bloated bodies of men and tahldi in mass graves.

The greenish black bodies of young men tumbled into trenches at his feet. John tried not to look at them. He studied the shore of his newly created lake or he watched the distant forests.

Across the lake, packs of feral dogs watched John warily as they scavenged their meals. He wondered, briefly, what one of those animals would have made of Ji. Would they have found her scent strange and ominous, or merely mistaken her for another dog?

By midafternoon John felt sapped of strength, though he knew it was only guilt that weighed him down. As he continued working he tried to think himself away from the knowledge of how many lives he had taken. Of how right Tanash had been to stare at him in horror.

He comforted himself, wondering if Ravishan was still sleeping. Probably. Though most likely, he’d wake up in another hour or so. It wasn’t like him to sleep through an entire day. Perhaps they would make love properly then.

John studied the vast expanse of the valley. There wasn’t much left for him to do. The land nearest Vundomu was black and looked as though it had been plowed by a band of drunken farm hands. Still, the stench had been buried along with the dead. Carcasses still littered a few fields farther north as well as some of those on the west bank of the lake. John continued along the shore of the lake, burying the dead.

 The sun shone down directly overhead, melting away the last few pockets of snow. As the frost receded, John noticed a fine green fringe carpeting the banks of the lake where he’d walked. Dozens of delicate mosses basked at the edge of the water. Among them, the dark emerald shoots of frostgrass nudged up through the soil.

John stared at the little plants in amazement. He had nearly destroyed this land. He had torn it asunder and scorched it in cascades of lightning and fire. And yet, with just a little sun and water, life returned. John gently touched the soft mosses, admiring their resilience. The mosses seemed to curl against John’s hands, as if they somehow returned his affection.

A wrenching screech tore through the air as an arc of flames burned at the edges of the torn Gray Space. Only a few feet ahead of John, Fikiri stepped out of the Gray Space. John straightened.

Fikiri pushed his blond hair back from his face. A thin scratch cut across Fikiri’s forehead. He wiped the blood away with the cuff of his heavy black coat. As soon as he noticed John watching him, he squared his shoulders and thrust his chin out. His expression struck John as almost childishly imperious.

Ji was right, John thought suddenly. Fikiri was little more than a boy. He would only be seventeen in another month. He had done stupid, dangerous things, but he had also had terrible things done to him. As the mature adult, it was John’s obligation to be more forgiving. He should at least offer Fikiri an opening for civil conversation.

“Good afternoon.” John made the Payshmura sign of peace.

Fikiri didn’t return the gesture. He kicked at a clod of dirt, uncovering three decaying fingers. He stepped back.

“So what brings you down here?” John tried to sound friendly.

“I’m going in with Sabir tonight,” Fikiri said. “I’m going to free Loshai.”

“Good. That’s wonderful news.” John found himself smiling with genuine warmth at Fikiri.

“I came here first because I wanted to know what you planned on telling her once she’s free.” Fikiri’s tone was still cold, his expression hostile.

“Telling her?” John asked. “About what?”

“About me and you,” Fikiri replied.

“Us? What would I have to tell her about us?”

“How you killed my mother, for example,” Fikiri snapped. He glared at John.

“I didn’t kill your mother. The Payshmura killed her,” John stated firmly. He felt a deep guilt over Lady Bousim’s death, but he wasn’t about to allow Fikiri to exploit that.

“What are you going to tell Loshai?” Fikiri demanded. John realized that it wasn’t just Lady Bousim’s execution that Fikiri was worried Laurie would find out about.

“Are you afraid that I’ll tell her that you were to blame for the Payshmura putting me out on the Holy Road?” John asked. Fikiri’s pale face flushed red.

“You put yourself out there with your own confession!”

“I didn’t just rush back to Rathal’pesha and confess and we both know that, Fikiri. You panicked and nearly got both Ravishan and I killed.”

“I knew you were going to blame me. You just want to make sure that she hates me!”

“I don’t want Loshai to hate you,” John responded.

“Then what are you going to say to her?” Fikiri demanded.

“Well, I’m not going to lie to her.”

“I knew it!” Fikiri shoved his hands deep into his coat and stepped closer to John. He glared at John. “I won’t let you turn her against me. You won’t tell her anything.”

John glanced down at Fikiri’s pale hands. He’d drawn his black curse blade. John stepped back. Fikiri advanced on him.

“Look, Fikiri, I understand that you’re angry. You have good reason to be angry, but so do a lot of people. We’ve all been through a lot. We’ve lost people we love—”

“You haven’t lost anything!” Fikiri snarled. “Because all you care about is your precious Ravishan!”

“That’s not—”

Fikiri lunged forward much faster than John expected. Fighting beside Sabir’s troops had honed his skills. A wrenching pain exploded through John’s chest as Fikiri drove his curse blade into his heart. John stumbled back from the impact and Fikiri sprang away from him.

A terrible, searing pain burned into John’s flesh. The ground shuddered beneath John’s feet. Overhead, faint streaks of clouds suddenly darkened and rolled into black masses.

Fikiri watched him with an almost radiant expression, blind to the darkening sky.

“You are such a fucking idiot!” John snarled.

“I’m not the one who’s dying,” Fikiri said, smiling.

John ripped the curse blade from his chest. Steaming dark blood gushed up over his hand. He shattered the curse blade between his bloody fingers and hurled the pieces to the ground.

It took him a moment to calm the fury in him and to draw back the wild power that pulsed through the air and land. The wind swirled down around him. It caressed him with spring warmth and the scents of distant forests as it lifted him high into the air. John drank in the force of the wind and slowly descended back to the ground only a step away from Fikiri. The wound in his chest closed like a fist.

Fikiri had gone deathly white.

“You should be dead.” Fikiri’s voice came out in a whisper.