Markswoman (Asiana #1)(14)
As she walked out of the cell, she replayed the unsatisfactory conversation. She’d gotten no clear answers about the set of primes and why she might need it. And she was no closer to a second mark than before—though she was grateful she would not be taking Tonar Kalam’s mark.
It wasn’t as if she thought there was any honor in killing. Maidul’s look of shock as he stared at the katari protruding from his chest still haunted her.
But she would not be weak. When the chance came to take down another Tau, she would grab it with both hands. If only she could find their camp again. Why did Shirin Mam not let her try? It was both her right and her duty. She had never questioned the Mahimata’s judgment, and she didn’t want to start now, but why couldn’t Shirin Mam have given her some sort of explanation, or perhaps a timeline? One Tau murderer a year, leaving Kai Tau for the last. Twelve years to take her revenge, twelve years to “learn” whatever it was that the Mahimata seemed to think she lacked. Wasn’t that reasonable?
“I could have told you that you’d get nothing out of her.”
Kyra spun around, hand going to her katari.
Tamsyn laughed and stepped out of the passage where she had been standing.
“I have named you well. You startle as easily as a deer.”
“Forgive me, Elder. I must be going.” Kyra made as if to pass her, but Tamsyn blocked her way with a slim, outstretched arm.
“Felda can wait a little longer, don’t you think?” The elder’s mesmeric eyes held her. Kyra tried to still her thoughts, knowing that it was hopeless.
At last Tamsyn withdrew her gaze. “You are so simple, Kyra. Almost the worst at Mental Arts among the younger girls. You should have accepted my offer of extra lessons. It would have done you some good. At least your thoughts would be a little quieter than they are right now.”
Kyra controlled herself with an effort. The worst of it was that there was truth in what the elder was saying. She resolved to focus better during Tamsyn’s lessons, no matter how the Mistress of Mental Arts goaded her.
Tamsyn’s eyes narrowed. “Shirin Mam will never let you go back to the Thar, little deer. You can wait forever, but she’ll not give you the command to kill another Tau. You have killed the eldest son of the outlaw, and that is punishment enough.”
The words—hard-edged and true—stabbed Kyra. “What of the twelve who slaughtered my clan?” she said.
“Shirin Mam has told you that being a Markswoman is not about taking revenge.”
“I have made a vow and she knows it,” retorted Kyra, realizing that she should stop talking, disengage from Tamsyn and step away, but unable to help herself.
“What is your vow to her?” said Tamsyn contemptuously. “You’ll dance on her strings like everyone else does.” She gave a flick of her fingers and went on, her voice somehow deeper and more compelling: “Years will go by and your vow will fade in everyone’s memory, even your own. The Taus will breed and multiply like the vermin that they are, while the name of Veer will be forgotten. And you—what will you be but a mediocre old Markswoman whom no one respects? Perhaps you will inherit Felda’s miserable little hoard of number-books.”
Kyra closed her eyes. Tears pricked her eyelids and she suppressed them with difficulty. Never weep in front of your enemy, Shirin Mam had said once. Your inner strength flows out from your tears and into your enemy’s grasp.
When she opened her eyes, she found Tamsyn watching her. “What would you have me do, Elder? I must obey the Mahimata.”
“Yes. But perhaps a way can be found. Perhaps I can help you.”
“Help me?” echoed Kyra. How could Tamsyn do that? And more importantly—why?
Tamsyn leaned forward until her lips were close to Kyra’s ear. “If it were up to me,” she whispered, “I would command you to kill the Taus. I would not rest until I had seen you avenge your family. I would walk with you into their camp, blade to blade, and butcher them in their sleep. The desert would drink their blood and I would garland you with their skulls, like the Goddess Kali. I would teach you all the words of power I know—words in the ancient tongue that can bend anyone to your will. And then you would be the most feared Markswoman in Asiana, the bane of outlaws and the scourge of wyr-wolves.”
“But,” stuttered Kyra, and stopped. The vision was too bright, too strong. She saw herself walking proud and fierce through the remains of the Tau camp, bodies falling before her katari like puppets. She saw Kai Tau kneel before her and beg for mercy. She saw herself swing her blade down onto his lowered head, and slice it off from his undeserving body.
The vision wavered and she rubbed her eyes. A small, sane voice within reminded her that it was not up to Tamsyn, and she should thank the Goddess that it wasn’t.
Tamsyn leaned back and smiled, as if satisfied with what she saw. “My time will come,” she said, soft. “And yours will too. Are you with me?”
“Yes, Elder,” said Kyra, making her voice humble. She waited, but Tamsyn was silent. “. . . I should go for class now.”
Tamsyn waved her away and Kyra made her escape, trying not to run.
For the rest of the day, Tamsyn’s words and the vision she had spun kept dancing through Kyra’s head. She thought she should go to Shirin Mam and tell her about the encounter, but something held her back. Perhaps it was the vision itself, and seeing her dream of revenge come to fruition. Or perhaps it was that uneasy feeling that she should have stopped Tamsyn from speaking, and defended Shirin Mam in some way.