Markswoman (Asiana #1)(15)
But that was ridiculous. As if Shirin Mam needed anyone to defend her. The Mahimata knew her Markswomen inside out, and was stronger than any of them. Even if Tamsyn did make a bid for leadership, Shirin Mam would soon squash her. And Tamsyn knew it.
Still, if it was Tamsyn in charge, she would send Kyra back to the Tau camp. She would order Kyra to execute the killers who still walked free, fourteen years after her own loved ones were dead and gone.
The knowledge haunted Kyra. She felt she was betraying Shirin Mam and, miserable, began to dread her upcoming lesson with the Mahimata.
Chapter 5
The Shining City
The next evening, Kyra and Nineth joined Elena in her cluttered, candlelit cell. The deft, petite sixteen-year-old was Navroz Lan’s favorite student—a “natural healer,” the elder called her. Jars of pastes and bottles full of swirling liquids jostled for space on the floor. Bunches of dried herbs and roots hung from the ceiling. On the walls, she had stuck parchments scribbled with her favorite remedies. Shadows danced over them, blurring the words and dimming the drawings. A faint smell of honey lingered in the air.
“What does the Mahimata want with you?” asked Elena, massaging Kyra’s left shin. Kyra had hurt it in a mock duel during Hatha-kala practice that afternoon. “You’re not in trouble, are you?”
“Of course not,” said Kyra, trying not to wince. “She’s giving me an extra lesson.”
“Better you than me.” Nineth shuddered. “As if it’s not enough, having classes all day.”
Silently Kyra agreed with her. It had been a long day and she was bone-tired. Felda had been deeply annoyed that Kyra missed most of Mathematics yesterday, never mind that it was the Mahimata herself who had summoned her. She had been even more displeased today when Kyra was unable to solve the “simple” derivations she set for the class. Nor was Kyra able to concentrate in Healing afterward; she couldn’t get Tamsyn’s words out of her head, and she couldn’t figure out what she would say to Shirin Mam.
The worst class was Hatha-kala; fatigue and hunger had conspired to dull her fighting skills, and she had been beaten by each one of her opponents. Every part of her body throbbed.
Kyra sighed as Elena’s fingers worked their magic on her shin. “It doesn’t hurt at all now,” she said. “What did you use?”
“Figwort, arnica, and calendula extract,” said Elena, closing the lid on a jar of green-brown paste. “Oh, and a bit of horse dung.”
“What?” Kyra sat bolt upright and glared at her friend. Elena’s shoulders shook with suppressed mirth, and Nineth grinned.
“Very funny,” said Kyra, annoyed. “I won’t need any more of this ointment, will I?”
“You might,” said Elena. “You’re really not in any trouble? Or is there something you’re not telling us?”
The sound of the gong summoning them for dinner saved Kyra from having to reply.
*
Shirin Mam was working at her desk. Does she never eat? Kyra paused outside the Mahimata’s cell. Markswomen were supposed to need less sleep and food as they grew older and more adept in the Mental Arts. Not that Kyra felt in the least hungry herself right now. There was a tight knot of tension in her stomach that threatened to push itself out of her throat. She didn’t want to see Shirin Mam. What she really wanted to do was go back to her cell, pull the rug up over her face, and sleep for the next twelve hours.
“Come in before you collapse at my door,” came Shirin Mam’s voice. “If you would but pay attention instead of daydreaming through my lessons, you would not need more than four hours of sleep a day. Even those hours you would grudge, knowing that sleep is a kind of death, just as death is a kind of sleep, however temporary.”
Kyra swallowed. She entered and bowed, trying to summon the courage to say the words she had mentally practiced a hundred times now. I’m sorry I listened to Tamsyn. There’s something wrong with her. Maybe there’s something wrong with me too. Maybe I don’t deserve to be a Markswoman.
Shirin Mam steepled her fingers. “The past couple of weeks have been hard, yes? It is always so. Everyone else is more skilled and experienced than you. You think you don’t belong, like you can never match up to the more advanced Markswomen. It was the same for me also.”
Kyra gazed at the Mahimata, astonished. Somehow she had never thought of her teacher as being a young novice, or an apprentice who had yet to prove herself.
“Everyone goes through this phase,” said Shirin Mam. “In this you are not unique. Even Lin Maya, the founder of the Order of Kali, was filled with misgivings.”
“Surely not,” Kyra blurted out, her worries about Tamsyn temporarily forgotten. Lin Maya and her cohort were the stuff of legends. They were the first Markswomen of Asiana, and they had brought peace to the Ferghana Valley, brokering accords between warring clans, forcing them to accept the authority of the Order.
“I have been reading a copy of her memoirs.” Shirin Mam indicated a tattered old book on her desk. “They are quite enlightening. Apparently, she questioned whether we should use kalishium to kill anyone. She was, you should be aware, the first to fashion a blade for herself using the metal.”
“But the Kanun of Ture-asa says that only Markswomen can take a life, and they should use kataris to do so.”