Shadow Blade, page 25
“This one is dangerous,” the old woman croaked. “You were unwise to bring him here, Tomar. He may be too strong for me.”
Tomar stopped, towering over the old woman, but smiling fondly.
“Everyone, meet Grekkyl, resident hag of Sixth City, conjurer of magic, seer of the future, and healer extraordinaire.”
“And your grandmother,” Grekkyl reminded him. “You always forget that part.”
“I don’t forget, Grammi,” Tomar said, his voice softening and taking on a tone of respect. “I choose not to mention certain things—”
“Oh nonsense, you forgot again. It’s okay, we old people are used to being forgotten. Though it hurts for my own blood to call me a hag.”
Tomar sighed a little too hard, but still smiled down at her.
“Can you keep him from using his magic?”
Grekkyl studied Ashai for a moment, her eyes gazing into the cell while one hand played with a brittle-looking strand of hair. She nodded.
“For now. He believes the drug he took blocks his magic, so he’s keeping himself from using it. He could, though. If he wanted. If he realized its true source. I could slow him down, but I couldn’t stop him. My magic is almost gone.”
“Old fool,” Ashai said from his cage. “Power comes only from Nishi, and Sai powder blocks my link to him.”
Grekkyl laughed, a dry barking sound that echoed through the chamber like a raven’s caw.
“Tell me, killer. If your God, the one you call all-powerful, gives you that power, how can a simple powder block it?”
Ashai hesitated, then stammered an answer. “As long as this powder is in my system, I cannot link to Nishi.”
Grekkyl clucked and sat on the floor in front of the bars.
“Much to learn, much to learn. Stop trying to link to a God. Link to you.”
Ashai closed his eyes, and Makari let herself hope for a second that it might work. But as he concentrated, the tremors shaking his body worsened. After just a few seconds, he let out a deep breath and opened his eyes. He wavered on his feet, unsteady and weakened.
“You’re wrong. Nothing’s there.”
“Not wrong, boy. You’re not trying hard enough. Your walls are too high, doors too thick. You must be able to see your own magic before you can touch it.”
Without warning, Ashai collapsed on the dirt floor, his entire body shaking and twitching. His legs kicked. His arms pumped. His head pounded itself against the floor.
“Help him!” Makari shouted before she could stop herself.
Everyone turned and looked at her, the hag grinning from ear to wrinkled ear. Bauti gave his princess a disappointed look, and Tomar’s brow had wrinkled, as if he didn’t understand her. Still, none of them moved.
“Please, he’s going to die!” Makari pleaded. “Help him!”
It was Grekkyl who finally acted, smacking a guard on the shoulder with her knobby old hand.
“Open door. Now, boy!”
The guard looked to Tomar, who nodded permission, then unlocked the cell door and tossed it aside. Grekkyl stepped inside, kneeled beside the quaking Ashai, and placed her hand on his forehead.
“He needs magic,” she said. “His drug isn’t wearing off fast enough. Princess is right: he’ll die without it. I can help.…”
She looked at her grandson, who rubbed his temples with his forefingers, looking at the dirt floor.
“He truly is our best chance to beat Tan,” Bauti offered, voice quiet. “And he hasn’t harmed Makari yet.”
Tomar considered a moment longer before letting out an exasperated breath.
“Give it to him.”
Grekkyl reached inside her shirt and produced a pouch, closed by drawstrings.
“Bring water,” she ordered.
Tomar responded, scooping a ladle of water from a bucket on the wall. He held it out for his grandmother, who opened the leather pouch and poured a tiny amount of a fine, golden powder in.
Then she took the ladle.
“You must hold him still.”
With Bauti holding his legs and Tomar himself holding his head, Grekkyl forced his mouth open and poured the contents of the ladle in. Ashai choked and sputtered, spitting out a good bit of the fluid. But then he swallowed hard and the hag stepped back.
“Let him go now. He’ll calm.”
The two men released Ashai and stood, both looking down at him. Then all three exited the cell, Tomar closing the door behind them. Ashai’s tremors had softened already, his body mostly still but for twitching in his hands and feet.
“What did you give him?” Makari asked.
Grekkyl smiled, a sad expression on her wrinkled face.
“Some call it ‘back alley’ magic. Gives access to power within him for a few hours, allows him to rest and to fight if needed. If he lives.”
“If he lives?” Makari exclaimed. “What does that mean?”
The hag patted her on the shoulder, gnarled hand lighting softly for an instant.
“Powder lets him see magic within him, but wears off quickly. Leaves him wanting more and more. And it consumes a little of him every time.”
“And that can kill him?”
Grekkyl nodded. “Kills most. But Ashai is not most. Stronger. Smart. Don’t worry about your love, child. He’ll hold on.”
Makari felt herself blushing and turned away.
“He’s hardly my love anymore. He was sent to kill me.”
When she turned back around Grekkyl was still staring at her. The hag nodded, then sat herself in front of the cage wall to keep an eye on Ashai.
“All go now. Will do what I can, teach what he will learn. Faith is strong in this one, and faith clouds judgment. But I will try.”
“Come, all of you,” Tomar said softly. “Eat and rest. Regain your strength and let my grandmother do her work.”
He exited, the guards with him, but Makari lingered, staring at Ashai’s now motionless form in the cell. She tried to put her finger on her feelings for him, but all she found was a jumble of emotions, tangled as a robin’s nest.
A gentle hand on her elbow made her turn to find Bauti’s blue eyes studying her, concern on his face.
“She’ll take care of him, Highness. Let’s go get some food.”
With one last, wistful glance at the man who’d been her betrothed, Makari nodded and let Bauti lead her out of the chamber.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Hours later, Marwan Bauti stood outside the tiny cell, staring over the hag’s balding head at Ashai. The assassin lay still, seizures stopped and breathing steady. But something else had changed about the man, and not in a good way. He seemed haunted, as if he were dreaming some great nightmare, but was helpless to thrash or spasm or even wake up.
Then, as if someone had dumped a bucket of cold water on him, Ashai sat bolt upright, arms flailing in front of him. Eyes still closed, he scraped his hands over his body frantically, brushing away imaginary bugs or spiders, then crawled to the back of the cell and sat with his arms curled around his knees and his face turned away.
“It won’t be long now.” Grekkyl didn’t even turn to look at Bauti, keeping her eyes on the man in the cage. “His body and soul want to reject the new magic. He built his life around faith and this magic threatens that.”
Bauti said nothing, concentrating on the assassin. He hated Ashai, but he knew they needed him. And they needed him full-strength.
Slowly, as if possessed by something dark and shadowed, Ashai lifted his face and turned his attention on the hag. Bauti gasped. Ashai’s brown eyes now shone a brilliant gold, an unnatural kind of glow, alien and frightening.
“That’s why they’re called shiners.” Grekkyl laughed and wiped her nose on her sleeve. “He will live now, and can use magic. But his master cannot track him.”
Ashai jumped to his feet and rushed the bars at the front of the cage, grasping the iron in his hands and pressing his face into a gap between two cords of iron.
“What have you done to me? This is evil, a sin! Nishi will never forgive it. You’ve sentenced me to an eternity of suffering.”
Grekkyl studied him for a moment, then shook her head and made a clucking sound. “Eternity was already decided. I saved your life. So you can save hers.”
“You gave me Shiner magic! Once you use this, you never go back. It devours your soul.”
“I only gave you a small dose.” Grekkyl shook her head. “And will not give you another. I will teach you to use magic of your own. It’s the only way you will live.”
Ashai rattled the bars as if trying to break out, then paced to the back wall of the cell again. He put his forehead against the rock and grabbed his hair with both hands. His wail started low in his throat and rose like a wave, louder and larger until it crashed upon the cavern walls, ceiling, and floor. He screamed for several seconds, until Bauti almost had to cover his ears. Then he stopped and dropped to his knees.
“If you’re done now, we should start.” Grekkyl still hadn’t changed positions, sitting on the dirt floor with her legs crossed, fiddling with a strand of her white hair. “You must learn. Or you must die. And if you die, the Princess dies.”
Ashai didn’t even look her way, staring at the dirt floor in silence.
“Very dramatic,” Grekkyl said over her shoulder to Bauti. “Most just cry or sleep.”
“He’s had a rough day,” Bauti joked, but the hag ignored him.
“What do you want?” she asked Ashai.
His reply rumbled like a far off storm. “Magic.”
“What do you need?”
“Magic.”
“What do you have?”
Hesitation. The assassin still stared at the floor, but he didn’t answer right away. Bauti smiled. Grekkyl was growing on him.
When Ashai finally answered, even his voice shook. “Sin.”
“Wrong, wrong, and wrong.” The hag’s voice bounced along like a child skipping through a meadow, ignoring the radically emotional tone of her student. “You want the girl. You need to see inside yourself. You have magic. No such thing as fake magic. Power is power.”
Again a pause, but this time Ashai turned his head and glared at the old woman, golden eyes intense and focused. Bauti knew that if the bars were not there, he would rip Grekkyl in half. If she noticed, she didn’t let on.
“You can’t get true power from a powder,” he said, lips curling in a snarl. “This brings only corruption.”
“Where does power come from, then?”
This time his eyes narrowed, as if he felt cornered, like she was backing him into an emotional corner.
“Only from God,” he answered.
Grekkyl jumped to her feet, surprisingly nimble for one so old, and clapped her hands over her head.
“Finally! Right answer! Not complete, but more right than wrong. See, I can teach you.”
“You taught me nothing. Your questions are ridiculous.”
Grekkyl moved to stand just a foot from the bars, hands clasped in front of her, eyes locked on Ashai.
“Then listen. Learn.” She tugged at her ear. “I will teach you what you need to save the princess.
“Magic comes only from God, true. Gods. All Gods have power. They give some to people so people can do what Gods want. They try to give it to good people, but sometimes even Gods make mistakes. So some bad people have power.”
“Nishi makes no mistakes.”
“Nishi told you this?”
Ashai scrunched his brow, then shook his head. “The Chargh Lai.”
“The Chargh Lai is wrong.”
For an instant, Ashai’s eyes flashed brighter and Bauti thought he might reach through the bars and wrap his fingers around the old woman’s throat.
Grekkyl did not look afraid, though. Instead she smiled.
“See? You’re close. Almost used magic. Your magic, inside you. Your powder blocks it. Your faith blocks it. Mine unlocks it like a key to a treasure chest.
“You know the Chargh Lai teaches you wrong about magic?”
Again Ashai smoldered, ready to melt. The hag went on.
“When you don’t pray or use magic, you become sick, right?”
Ashai nodded reluctantly.
“Because I am out of touch with Nishi.”
She shook her head, white hair flying. “Because the Chargh Lai made you need magic. Body. Mind. Soul. You need magic, the Chargh Lai gives magic that is already yours. Makes for very loyal subjects.”
Ashai jumped up, face turning red, eyes burning like tiny suns.
“You lie! The Chargh Lai saved me. He is my bridge to God, and taught me everything I know.”
“He taught you Makari is good?”
Bauti fought back a grin. She’d cornered him.
“No,” Ashai said, eyes on the floor.
“But you know she’s good?”
He nodded. Bauti crossed his arms over his chest. This was entertaining. Part of him felt sorry for Ashai. The man’s whole world had been turned upside down, and Grekkyl was now turning it inside out, too.
Then he remembered why Ashai had come to Dar Tallus in the first place and his hatred for the man returned in a flash.
Grekkyl raised her hand, palm up, in front of her. She closed her eyes, jaw clenching, and focused. A tiny orange flame leapt to life just above her outstretched hand, dancing and wavering, its light lost in that of the larger torches.
Ashai stepped back, gold eyes wide. Grekkyl closed her fist and gave him a sad smile.
“You thought only Denari Lai used magic? Only Nishi’itis? Shiners?”
Ashai remained silent, so the old woman went on.
“My power was great once, but I let it wither. Rot. Like fine wood, it needs tending and care, and I was a young mother of a very … mischievous boy. No time. So I didn’t practice and my power shriveled like a grape in the sun. But my body did not. No illness. Why?”
Ashai shrugged and turned away, his face a mix of confusion and hurt.
“Because I control my magic, not someone else. I used whenever I wanted. A lot. So I never needed it. You use power only when your Chargh Lai tells you to, and how he tells you. You believe magic can be taken from you, so you come to crave it.
“I know magic lives in me, just smaller now. I never miss it. Never crave. So I built strong mind to use or not use. And I used all of my power, in all the different ways. The Chargh Lai teaches you only one way to use it—to kill. Another shackle on your mind.”
Ashai kicked at the dirt with the toe of his boot. “What does your powder do, then? How does it give magic?”
This time, Grekkyl gave a sly smile. “You felt it, didn’t you? Inside you, like the fire at the middle of the world.”
Ashai nodded slowly. “How?”
“Powder doesn’t give you magic. Powder gives you freedom to use it. Frees your mind, soul, body. But it taints that power, and you come to need it. Without it you get sicker. So you must learn to touch magic without it.”
A tear rolled down the assassin’s cheek, and Bauti knew he’d come to realize, even if he wouldn’t admit it, that most of his life was a lie. Again he felt pity for his enemy.
“Your problem is your faith. It blocks you from your inner power. Soon, it will block what the powder allows, too. Faith in a God opens a window so you can see power, touch it perhaps. Faith in yourself opens a door you can walk through to seize it.”
“Will it help me save Makari?”
She nodded.
“Then teach me.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Ashai kneeled in the dirt of his cell floor, sweat matting his hair to his head, temples throbbing from the effort of concentrating. He squeezed his eyes shut, driving his consciousness deep inside himself, searching for anything to suggest magic lurked somewhere within. He didn’t need a blazing fire, or even a wavering candle. Just a spark would have done, would have kept him going. Sustained him. Given him hope.
He found only darkness and cold. He couldn’t even find the contamination of the back alley magic now. And since they were still hiding from the Denari Lai, he’d taken more of the powder that cut his link to Nishi. He was powerless.
“You’re trying too hard,” Grekkyl snapped. The old woman could use her voice like a riding crop, smacking him on the rump. This time it snapped his concentration like a twig underfoot.
He opened his eyes and let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. His body relaxed and he slumped against the damp rock of the cell wall.
“How can I be trying too hard? I’m not finding anything. Either I’m not trying hard enough or there’s nothing there.”
He’d been at it for hours, but had yet to even see a trace of power in him. He couldn’t even find the tainted back alley magic that kept the Yanagat at bay.
She clucked and leaned against the bars of his cell, wrinkling her nose and eyeing his chamber pot dubiously.
He’d been in the cell three days now. Or so she told him. He hadn’t seen the sun since coming here, and had lost all sense of time. Of course, her lessons—and his continued failure at them—made even a few minutes seem like an eternity.
It didn’t help that he felt more alone than he’d felt since living on the streets, before the Chargh Lai had swept him into the Denari Lai. The hag was his only regular visitor. He spent most of his time alone, even his guards staying out of sight around the corner. When Grekkyl came, it was only to teach him to find his own magic. She’d given him smaller and smaller doses of the back alley powder, and he could feel tremors starting again in his fingers. He was running out of time.
Tomar had come once, and stayed just long enough to sneer at Ashai and tell him stories of how he’d romanced the Princess. Ashai didn’t know how much of them to believe, so he ignored them all.
Tisk had visited once, though the boy had only said he was going into the city to get information about patrols and so forth. He hadn’t returned, and Ashai was worried about him.
Surprisingly, Bauti had visited three times already. He never stayed long enough for real conversation, but he had brought food once, with a skin of ale and a wedge of hard cheese. Ashai had seen something new in the captain’s eyes before, and never would have expected: concern. Pity definitely. Perhaps even compassion. Oh, the hate still lingered behind the slate gray of his eyes, but for once it wasn’t Bauti’s predominating emotion. Perhaps his heart had thawed a bit.
Tomar stopped, towering over the old woman, but smiling fondly.
“Everyone, meet Grekkyl, resident hag of Sixth City, conjurer of magic, seer of the future, and healer extraordinaire.”
“And your grandmother,” Grekkyl reminded him. “You always forget that part.”
“I don’t forget, Grammi,” Tomar said, his voice softening and taking on a tone of respect. “I choose not to mention certain things—”
“Oh nonsense, you forgot again. It’s okay, we old people are used to being forgotten. Though it hurts for my own blood to call me a hag.”
Tomar sighed a little too hard, but still smiled down at her.
“Can you keep him from using his magic?”
Grekkyl studied Ashai for a moment, her eyes gazing into the cell while one hand played with a brittle-looking strand of hair. She nodded.
“For now. He believes the drug he took blocks his magic, so he’s keeping himself from using it. He could, though. If he wanted. If he realized its true source. I could slow him down, but I couldn’t stop him. My magic is almost gone.”
“Old fool,” Ashai said from his cage. “Power comes only from Nishi, and Sai powder blocks my link to him.”
Grekkyl laughed, a dry barking sound that echoed through the chamber like a raven’s caw.
“Tell me, killer. If your God, the one you call all-powerful, gives you that power, how can a simple powder block it?”
Ashai hesitated, then stammered an answer. “As long as this powder is in my system, I cannot link to Nishi.”
Grekkyl clucked and sat on the floor in front of the bars.
“Much to learn, much to learn. Stop trying to link to a God. Link to you.”
Ashai closed his eyes, and Makari let herself hope for a second that it might work. But as he concentrated, the tremors shaking his body worsened. After just a few seconds, he let out a deep breath and opened his eyes. He wavered on his feet, unsteady and weakened.
“You’re wrong. Nothing’s there.”
“Not wrong, boy. You’re not trying hard enough. Your walls are too high, doors too thick. You must be able to see your own magic before you can touch it.”
Without warning, Ashai collapsed on the dirt floor, his entire body shaking and twitching. His legs kicked. His arms pumped. His head pounded itself against the floor.
“Help him!” Makari shouted before she could stop herself.
Everyone turned and looked at her, the hag grinning from ear to wrinkled ear. Bauti gave his princess a disappointed look, and Tomar’s brow had wrinkled, as if he didn’t understand her. Still, none of them moved.
“Please, he’s going to die!” Makari pleaded. “Help him!”
It was Grekkyl who finally acted, smacking a guard on the shoulder with her knobby old hand.
“Open door. Now, boy!”
The guard looked to Tomar, who nodded permission, then unlocked the cell door and tossed it aside. Grekkyl stepped inside, kneeled beside the quaking Ashai, and placed her hand on his forehead.
“He needs magic,” she said. “His drug isn’t wearing off fast enough. Princess is right: he’ll die without it. I can help.…”
She looked at her grandson, who rubbed his temples with his forefingers, looking at the dirt floor.
“He truly is our best chance to beat Tan,” Bauti offered, voice quiet. “And he hasn’t harmed Makari yet.”
Tomar considered a moment longer before letting out an exasperated breath.
“Give it to him.”
Grekkyl reached inside her shirt and produced a pouch, closed by drawstrings.
“Bring water,” she ordered.
Tomar responded, scooping a ladle of water from a bucket on the wall. He held it out for his grandmother, who opened the leather pouch and poured a tiny amount of a fine, golden powder in.
Then she took the ladle.
“You must hold him still.”
With Bauti holding his legs and Tomar himself holding his head, Grekkyl forced his mouth open and poured the contents of the ladle in. Ashai choked and sputtered, spitting out a good bit of the fluid. But then he swallowed hard and the hag stepped back.
“Let him go now. He’ll calm.”
The two men released Ashai and stood, both looking down at him. Then all three exited the cell, Tomar closing the door behind them. Ashai’s tremors had softened already, his body mostly still but for twitching in his hands and feet.
“What did you give him?” Makari asked.
Grekkyl smiled, a sad expression on her wrinkled face.
“Some call it ‘back alley’ magic. Gives access to power within him for a few hours, allows him to rest and to fight if needed. If he lives.”
“If he lives?” Makari exclaimed. “What does that mean?”
The hag patted her on the shoulder, gnarled hand lighting softly for an instant.
“Powder lets him see magic within him, but wears off quickly. Leaves him wanting more and more. And it consumes a little of him every time.”
“And that can kill him?”
Grekkyl nodded. “Kills most. But Ashai is not most. Stronger. Smart. Don’t worry about your love, child. He’ll hold on.”
Makari felt herself blushing and turned away.
“He’s hardly my love anymore. He was sent to kill me.”
When she turned back around Grekkyl was still staring at her. The hag nodded, then sat herself in front of the cage wall to keep an eye on Ashai.
“All go now. Will do what I can, teach what he will learn. Faith is strong in this one, and faith clouds judgment. But I will try.”
“Come, all of you,” Tomar said softly. “Eat and rest. Regain your strength and let my grandmother do her work.”
He exited, the guards with him, but Makari lingered, staring at Ashai’s now motionless form in the cell. She tried to put her finger on her feelings for him, but all she found was a jumble of emotions, tangled as a robin’s nest.
A gentle hand on her elbow made her turn to find Bauti’s blue eyes studying her, concern on his face.
“She’ll take care of him, Highness. Let’s go get some food.”
With one last, wistful glance at the man who’d been her betrothed, Makari nodded and let Bauti lead her out of the chamber.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Hours later, Marwan Bauti stood outside the tiny cell, staring over the hag’s balding head at Ashai. The assassin lay still, seizures stopped and breathing steady. But something else had changed about the man, and not in a good way. He seemed haunted, as if he were dreaming some great nightmare, but was helpless to thrash or spasm or even wake up.
Then, as if someone had dumped a bucket of cold water on him, Ashai sat bolt upright, arms flailing in front of him. Eyes still closed, he scraped his hands over his body frantically, brushing away imaginary bugs or spiders, then crawled to the back of the cell and sat with his arms curled around his knees and his face turned away.
“It won’t be long now.” Grekkyl didn’t even turn to look at Bauti, keeping her eyes on the man in the cage. “His body and soul want to reject the new magic. He built his life around faith and this magic threatens that.”
Bauti said nothing, concentrating on the assassin. He hated Ashai, but he knew they needed him. And they needed him full-strength.
Slowly, as if possessed by something dark and shadowed, Ashai lifted his face and turned his attention on the hag. Bauti gasped. Ashai’s brown eyes now shone a brilliant gold, an unnatural kind of glow, alien and frightening.
“That’s why they’re called shiners.” Grekkyl laughed and wiped her nose on her sleeve. “He will live now, and can use magic. But his master cannot track him.”
Ashai jumped to his feet and rushed the bars at the front of the cage, grasping the iron in his hands and pressing his face into a gap between two cords of iron.
“What have you done to me? This is evil, a sin! Nishi will never forgive it. You’ve sentenced me to an eternity of suffering.”
Grekkyl studied him for a moment, then shook her head and made a clucking sound. “Eternity was already decided. I saved your life. So you can save hers.”
“You gave me Shiner magic! Once you use this, you never go back. It devours your soul.”
“I only gave you a small dose.” Grekkyl shook her head. “And will not give you another. I will teach you to use magic of your own. It’s the only way you will live.”
Ashai rattled the bars as if trying to break out, then paced to the back wall of the cell again. He put his forehead against the rock and grabbed his hair with both hands. His wail started low in his throat and rose like a wave, louder and larger until it crashed upon the cavern walls, ceiling, and floor. He screamed for several seconds, until Bauti almost had to cover his ears. Then he stopped and dropped to his knees.
“If you’re done now, we should start.” Grekkyl still hadn’t changed positions, sitting on the dirt floor with her legs crossed, fiddling with a strand of her white hair. “You must learn. Or you must die. And if you die, the Princess dies.”
Ashai didn’t even look her way, staring at the dirt floor in silence.
“Very dramatic,” Grekkyl said over her shoulder to Bauti. “Most just cry or sleep.”
“He’s had a rough day,” Bauti joked, but the hag ignored him.
“What do you want?” she asked Ashai.
His reply rumbled like a far off storm. “Magic.”
“What do you need?”
“Magic.”
“What do you have?”
Hesitation. The assassin still stared at the floor, but he didn’t answer right away. Bauti smiled. Grekkyl was growing on him.
When Ashai finally answered, even his voice shook. “Sin.”
“Wrong, wrong, and wrong.” The hag’s voice bounced along like a child skipping through a meadow, ignoring the radically emotional tone of her student. “You want the girl. You need to see inside yourself. You have magic. No such thing as fake magic. Power is power.”
Again a pause, but this time Ashai turned his head and glared at the old woman, golden eyes intense and focused. Bauti knew that if the bars were not there, he would rip Grekkyl in half. If she noticed, she didn’t let on.
“You can’t get true power from a powder,” he said, lips curling in a snarl. “This brings only corruption.”
“Where does power come from, then?”
This time his eyes narrowed, as if he felt cornered, like she was backing him into an emotional corner.
“Only from God,” he answered.
Grekkyl jumped to her feet, surprisingly nimble for one so old, and clapped her hands over her head.
“Finally! Right answer! Not complete, but more right than wrong. See, I can teach you.”
“You taught me nothing. Your questions are ridiculous.”
Grekkyl moved to stand just a foot from the bars, hands clasped in front of her, eyes locked on Ashai.
“Then listen. Learn.” She tugged at her ear. “I will teach you what you need to save the princess.
“Magic comes only from God, true. Gods. All Gods have power. They give some to people so people can do what Gods want. They try to give it to good people, but sometimes even Gods make mistakes. So some bad people have power.”
“Nishi makes no mistakes.”
“Nishi told you this?”
Ashai scrunched his brow, then shook his head. “The Chargh Lai.”
“The Chargh Lai is wrong.”
For an instant, Ashai’s eyes flashed brighter and Bauti thought he might reach through the bars and wrap his fingers around the old woman’s throat.
Grekkyl did not look afraid, though. Instead she smiled.
“See? You’re close. Almost used magic. Your magic, inside you. Your powder blocks it. Your faith blocks it. Mine unlocks it like a key to a treasure chest.
“You know the Chargh Lai teaches you wrong about magic?”
Again Ashai smoldered, ready to melt. The hag went on.
“When you don’t pray or use magic, you become sick, right?”
Ashai nodded reluctantly.
“Because I am out of touch with Nishi.”
She shook her head, white hair flying. “Because the Chargh Lai made you need magic. Body. Mind. Soul. You need magic, the Chargh Lai gives magic that is already yours. Makes for very loyal subjects.”
Ashai jumped up, face turning red, eyes burning like tiny suns.
“You lie! The Chargh Lai saved me. He is my bridge to God, and taught me everything I know.”
“He taught you Makari is good?”
Bauti fought back a grin. She’d cornered him.
“No,” Ashai said, eyes on the floor.
“But you know she’s good?”
He nodded. Bauti crossed his arms over his chest. This was entertaining. Part of him felt sorry for Ashai. The man’s whole world had been turned upside down, and Grekkyl was now turning it inside out, too.
Then he remembered why Ashai had come to Dar Tallus in the first place and his hatred for the man returned in a flash.
Grekkyl raised her hand, palm up, in front of her. She closed her eyes, jaw clenching, and focused. A tiny orange flame leapt to life just above her outstretched hand, dancing and wavering, its light lost in that of the larger torches.
Ashai stepped back, gold eyes wide. Grekkyl closed her fist and gave him a sad smile.
“You thought only Denari Lai used magic? Only Nishi’itis? Shiners?”
Ashai remained silent, so the old woman went on.
“My power was great once, but I let it wither. Rot. Like fine wood, it needs tending and care, and I was a young mother of a very … mischievous boy. No time. So I didn’t practice and my power shriveled like a grape in the sun. But my body did not. No illness. Why?”
Ashai shrugged and turned away, his face a mix of confusion and hurt.
“Because I control my magic, not someone else. I used whenever I wanted. A lot. So I never needed it. You use power only when your Chargh Lai tells you to, and how he tells you. You believe magic can be taken from you, so you come to crave it.
“I know magic lives in me, just smaller now. I never miss it. Never crave. So I built strong mind to use or not use. And I used all of my power, in all the different ways. The Chargh Lai teaches you only one way to use it—to kill. Another shackle on your mind.”
Ashai kicked at the dirt with the toe of his boot. “What does your powder do, then? How does it give magic?”
This time, Grekkyl gave a sly smile. “You felt it, didn’t you? Inside you, like the fire at the middle of the world.”
Ashai nodded slowly. “How?”
“Powder doesn’t give you magic. Powder gives you freedom to use it. Frees your mind, soul, body. But it taints that power, and you come to need it. Without it you get sicker. So you must learn to touch magic without it.”
A tear rolled down the assassin’s cheek, and Bauti knew he’d come to realize, even if he wouldn’t admit it, that most of his life was a lie. Again he felt pity for his enemy.
“Your problem is your faith. It blocks you from your inner power. Soon, it will block what the powder allows, too. Faith in a God opens a window so you can see power, touch it perhaps. Faith in yourself opens a door you can walk through to seize it.”
“Will it help me save Makari?”
She nodded.
“Then teach me.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Ashai kneeled in the dirt of his cell floor, sweat matting his hair to his head, temples throbbing from the effort of concentrating. He squeezed his eyes shut, driving his consciousness deep inside himself, searching for anything to suggest magic lurked somewhere within. He didn’t need a blazing fire, or even a wavering candle. Just a spark would have done, would have kept him going. Sustained him. Given him hope.
He found only darkness and cold. He couldn’t even find the contamination of the back alley magic now. And since they were still hiding from the Denari Lai, he’d taken more of the powder that cut his link to Nishi. He was powerless.
“You’re trying too hard,” Grekkyl snapped. The old woman could use her voice like a riding crop, smacking him on the rump. This time it snapped his concentration like a twig underfoot.
He opened his eyes and let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. His body relaxed and he slumped against the damp rock of the cell wall.
“How can I be trying too hard? I’m not finding anything. Either I’m not trying hard enough or there’s nothing there.”
He’d been at it for hours, but had yet to even see a trace of power in him. He couldn’t even find the tainted back alley magic that kept the Yanagat at bay.
She clucked and leaned against the bars of his cell, wrinkling her nose and eyeing his chamber pot dubiously.
He’d been in the cell three days now. Or so she told him. He hadn’t seen the sun since coming here, and had lost all sense of time. Of course, her lessons—and his continued failure at them—made even a few minutes seem like an eternity.
It didn’t help that he felt more alone than he’d felt since living on the streets, before the Chargh Lai had swept him into the Denari Lai. The hag was his only regular visitor. He spent most of his time alone, even his guards staying out of sight around the corner. When Grekkyl came, it was only to teach him to find his own magic. She’d given him smaller and smaller doses of the back alley powder, and he could feel tremors starting again in his fingers. He was running out of time.
Tomar had come once, and stayed just long enough to sneer at Ashai and tell him stories of how he’d romanced the Princess. Ashai didn’t know how much of them to believe, so he ignored them all.
Tisk had visited once, though the boy had only said he was going into the city to get information about patrols and so forth. He hadn’t returned, and Ashai was worried about him.
Surprisingly, Bauti had visited three times already. He never stayed long enough for real conversation, but he had brought food once, with a skin of ale and a wedge of hard cheese. Ashai had seen something new in the captain’s eyes before, and never would have expected: concern. Pity definitely. Perhaps even compassion. Oh, the hate still lingered behind the slate gray of his eyes, but for once it wasn’t Bauti’s predominating emotion. Perhaps his heart had thawed a bit.
