Crossroads of Canopy (Titan's Forest #1)(88)

“Never call me that,” Sikakis answered, stuffing rags into the prisoner’s mouth. “That is no longer my name.”

Edax looked shrewdly at Unar. His eyes went from the seams in Sikakis’s forearms to the long sleeves that she wore.

“And you, little Gardener?” he said. “Have you taken a One Forest name?”

Unar could only mutely shake her head, the beginnings of tears in her eyes.

*

KIRRIK EMERGED to quench the lantern.

It was hours before dawn, but Unar didn’t think the Master, the Mistress, the ruler of the dovecote, whatever she called herself today, had been sleeping. Kirrik moved slowly and carefully along the path from the doorway of the dovecote with the rod in her hands, the bowl of the instrument hovering before her. Before she could lower it over the lantern, she took in the sight of the two prisoners and breathed deeply with satisfaction, as though inhaling the smell of a delicious feast.

“Nameless the … Unar … kept her word,” Sikakis said.

“So it would seem.”

“Will you quench the lantern? We are tired.”

Kirrik stared at Aforis. She seemed not to have heard what Sikakis said.

“Push him through,” she said. “Push him to me, through the light.”

Sikakis exchanged glances with Garrag, the long-armed swimmer, who had the prisoners’ charge. Sikakis nodded. Garrag shrugged. He pushed Aforis into the circle of blue-white light.

Spears of white, so bright they left afterimages in Unar’s eyes, struck from the lantern into Aforis’s chest. Unlike the branch, Aforis didn’t catch fire. He didn’t stop breathing, and he didn’t fall.

On his knees, he crawled through the light, being struck constantly as he went, until he passed out of the circle of light on the other side.

Unar saw his skeleton glowing, faintly. She felt the buoyancy of Understorian magic in use nearby.

“The surest way,” Kirrik said, smiling, “to wake the bones of a Servant of Airak. I could have used him while his bones slept, but he would not have been able to use any tools of amplification, and amplification he must have, if he is to strike down the armies of your father, Sikakis.”

“Yes, Core Kirrik,” Sikakis said gravely.

Kirrik licked her lips as she gazed down at Aforis. Gingerly, as though trying not to wake a sleeping demon, she removed the rags from his mouth and the gag that held them there.

“You may speak,” she told him.

Whatever he said, it made no sound. Lightning leaped from Kirrik’s fingers and she shrieked with glee. Edax made a low growl in his throat, and Kirrik’s greedy eyes came to rest on him.

“This one is to pass through the lantern light, too?” Garrag asked, shaking Edax’s shoulders, but Sikakis put out a hand across Garrag’s chest.

“No, Garrag,” he muttered. “This one would not survive the light.”

Even as he finished the sentence, Kirrik quenched the lantern and beckoned eagerly for the second prisoner.

“A Bodyguard of Ehkis,” she breathed. “I can feel the music of the monsoon in him, so close does his soul lie to that of his goddess. We must use him quickly, before she can replace him. Now, today. Frog the Outer will go with you. Her hate for this Bodyguard is strong. You must fetch the Talon at once, Sikakis.”

Sikakis gave a weary sigh. All the men were weary. They’d barely stopped to rest. Unar stared at the quenched lantern. It was her chance to seize Frog and run, while Kirrik was distracted by her prizes, but what about Marram? And the barrier? She bit her lip to keep from repeating what Sikakis had said, that she had done as she was bidden, and that her questions must be answered now, and as she tasted blood, Sikakis spoke.

“We’ve spent several days returning to you, Core Kirrik. How can you be sure Ehkis hasn’t already replaced him?”

Kirrik’s fingers laced around Edax’s throat, her thumbs pressing his windpipe.

“I am sure.”

Edax jerked defiantly out of her grip.

“And how,” Sikakis asked, “does one wake the bones of a Servant of the rain goddess?”

Kirrik put her fingers to her chin.

“If he can be made willing, he will sing for me. The right song will wake the bones of any disciple. If not, we will wake them with water and fire. Will you sing for me, Bodyguard of Ehkis?”

In reply, Edax threw himself off the edge of the platform.

“No!” Unar shouted. She saw Aforis’s lips shape the same denial, hearing nothing but Kirrik’s hiss; vines hauled Edax back up into the light by one owl foot, and lightning crackled over his skin. Kirrik let him writhe and scream for only a moment, but when the vines peeled away, Edax’s clothes were charred into bloody, raw seams.

Kirrik looked at Unar.

“Sing again, pretty bird,” she said. “I will allow you to heal him.”

Unar closed her eyes and sang.





FORTY-NINE

INSIDE THE dovecote, half a day later, Frog sat on the edge of her bunk, projecting the lie of the distracted child, swinging her legs while practicing her letters.

Unar knew all her attention was on the two men, each bound to their respective bunks. If Aforis so much as reached for his own magic, Frog was instructed to give him a dose of it, and let Unar heal him afterwards if the punishment turned out to be too severe. As for Edax, he had until sundown to decide to sing for Core Kirrik. Unar didn’t know what would happen, then, but she was afraid for him.