Markswoman (Asiana #1)(3)

As Kyra rode between the dunes, the wind rose and fell from a high-pitched keen to a deepening roar—an eerie sound that made her skin crawl. The sand stung her eyes, her throat was parched, and she ached all over. She urged Rinna on; she longed to be out of the Thar Desert, back home in the Ferghana.

She almost missed seeing the door by the side of the fossilized dune. It was half-hidden by a mound of fresh sand. Perhaps there had been a micro sandstorm in the last hour.

Or perhaps the door had shifted.

Kyra dismounted, brushed clear the door, and inserted the tip of her kalishium blade into a barely visible slot. The slot glowed blue and the door swung open, and she had a moment of dislocation.

Being in a Transport Hub always did that to her. Hubs didn’t belong in this desert landscape, or anywhere else in Asiana for that matter. The elders said that the Ones had come down from the stars to help humans build the Transport system. Hubs were artifacts left over from a world that no longer existed, the remnant of an ancient civilization that had destroyed itself many hundreds of years ago.

What a strange world it must have been when wonders like these were commonplace. Kyra could not even imagine what it would have looked like. Perhaps people had homes in the sky and all the homes had Hubs, and every time you wanted to see anyone or go anywhere, you merely stepped through a door.

It wasn’t quite that simple now, of course. If you were an ordinary person who needed to travel, you had to take the long, slow route by horse or bullock cart or camelback. Only kalishium could open a door, and only the Orders had access to kalishium. It was just as well. No one truly understood how Transport worked, and some of the doors had begun to fail. There were stories of Markswomen who had never returned, or who returned raving mad and had to be locked up for their own safety.

Kyra gave herself a shake. She was going to Transport, and everything was going to be fine. She peered inside the Hub. The corridor stretched into darkness, lined only by the glowing slots on each of the doors within. It looked the same as it had a few hours ago, but that didn’t mean it was still the same Transport Hub.

She tightened her grip on the reins and led Rinna forward before she could change her mind. The door swung closed behind them and the mare whinnied and jerked her head.

“Hush, Rinna,” said Kyra, stroking her neck. “You don’t like it, do you? Don’t worry, you’re safe.”

Safe. If only she could believe that herself.

Kyra coaxed her mare along the corridor until they came to the fourth door on the right, where she once again inserted the tip of her katari into a slot. This time a numbered screen slid out and she tapped in the Transport code Felda Seshur, the Order’s mathematician, had given her: 116010611.

The door slid open and the tight knot in her stomach dissolved. The code still worked; this should still be the right door.

She led Rinna across the threshold and pale blue lights came on, revealing a circular room with seats melded to the floor. Kyra sat down on one to wait, and it moved fractionally beneath her, adjusting to her shape. This part always made her skin crawl. Chairs weren’t supposed to move, not the ones made of wood or stone or metal, at any rate. Who knew what material had been used to forge these? Kyra sat erect on her seat, trying not to think about what she was doing. She had Transported a few times before, but always in the company of the elders of Kali. Her journey here had been the first time she’d done it alone.

The room began to spin. Rinna whinnied again and backed to the wall, where the spin was greater. She almost lost her balance, crashing against the curved surface of the chamber. Kyra frowned. She should have tethered her mare. Something to remember for the next time.

“We’ll soon be home, Rinna,” she said in a soothing voice.

But the room kept on spinning. What if it never stopped? If they were stuck there forever, a rotating nightmare between one world and the next?

No, that was irrational. She was giving in to fear, a monster without a face that was born from her own dreams. Kyra closed her eyes and practiced Sheetali, the Cooling Breath, until she sensed the spinning slow down and stop.





Chapter 2

The Chosen Ones




They emerged from the Hub on a hill overlooking the windswept plain that was the realm of the Order of Kali. Kyra inhaled the cool, mulberry-scented night air: the smell of home. They had reached Ferghana safely. Surrounded by mountains and watered by the great Siran-dyr River, the fertile valley was a mix of cropland, pastures, orchards, and forests—a living, breathing land, unlike the desert she had just left behind.

The door swung closed behind her and the Hub slept, quiescent—a metallic hump that shone with an eerie light. Kyra shivered and moved away from it. By the Goddess, she was glad to be out of there.

Rinna pranced, also relieved to be outside again. Kyra patted her flank, feeling empty somehow. All those months of anxiety and anticipation, going over various scenarios with Shirin Mam, and it was over now.

A familiar figure scrambled up the hill toward her. Nineth? Trust her to know the minute Kyra was back. But of everyone in the Order, it was her face that was most welcome now. Elena would have wanted to come too, but would have allowed Nineth to overrule her, as she usually did.

“Come on, Rinna.” Kyra caught hold of the reins and made her way through the tamarisk bushes that lined the path downhill.

“Kyra!” Nineth met them halfway and flung herself into Kyra’s arms, almost knocking her over. Behind them, Rinna whinnied a greeting. “You’ve been gone so long. I was imagining all sorts of horrible things. What happened? No, don’t tell me. It is Shirin Mam you must talk to first. She said to tell you that she’s waiting.”