The King of Koraha, page 11
Izusa sat, but her spine remained stiff and she avoided meeting anyone’s gaze. Shyla wondered if the woman had learned about The Eyes and was purposely avoiding looking at her. It depended on how quick gossip spread in the castle.
Rendor leaned forward. “Izusa, you’re acting guilty. Do you have something to confess?”
The woman glanced at Rendor in terror. Then she shot a desperate look at Shyla. Their gazes met. Got you. Just like Rendor had intended. Clever man.
“Please excuse him,” Shyla said. “We’re here to ask questions, not accuse you of anything.” Shyla turned her full attention to Izusa, reading her surface emotions.
The woman was skittish and on edge, but her fears were not about being discovered as a thief but being fired. Her brother got her the job, and now that he no longer worked for the King, she worried the new advisor would hire one of his own friends or family members. Izusa really liked her job and the people she worked with. And she loved her brother.
“How long have you worked in the castle?” Shyla asked.
“About five circuits,” she said to the table.
Shyla continued with easy questions, getting Izusa to relax. “No plans to leave even with not being paid for a while?”
“Oh no. I trust the King will pay me when the next round of taxes comes in.” And she hoped by then that Malik—one of the guards—would ask her to marry him.
Then Shyla asked the expected questions about the theft. Izusa claimed her innocence, which was the truth. But she also showed a touch of anger on Malik’s behalf. Everyone always blamed the guards, who had been working hard without pay for over two circuits.
Shyla suppressed a smile. If Malik didn’t ask for her hand, he was a fool.
“Have you heard from Xerxes lately?” Shyla asked.
Guilt welled. Izusa ducked her head. “Yes. He’s doing well in Nintri.” Although she wasn’t sure what he was doing. He’d said he found a job but never mentioned what type of work it was. She understood why he left—he needed the coins and the excitement since the old king had stopped assigning interesting cases to the squads, instead sending them on stupid or boring missions. Izusa had been telling him what had been going on with the new King so when the taxes came in, he could return and be in charge again.
Izusa confirmed what Shyla and Rendor suspected. Shyla asked a few more innocuous questions and dismissed the now relieved woman. Then she told Rendor and Najib what she’d learned from Izusa’s thoughts and emotions.
“You got all that from those easy questions?” Najib asked in surprise. He stared at the doorway. “And she has no idea she revealed so much.”
“No. Not now, but how fast is the gossip in the castle?”
“Unfortunately pretty fast. No one should guess about The Eyes or magic, but they do know you’re investigating the theft.”
“Did they know before we arrived?” Rendor asked.
“No. We weren’t even sure what we’d learned about Shyla was true until she arrived.”
That meant the merc ambush in the desert wasn’t connected to the stolen taxes. Yet another mystery to solve. But one thing was clear… “We need to travel to Nintri.”
* * *
“I don’t know what I’m going to miss more, the gamelu sausages, having Hakana as our own personal guide, or the castle’s guest suite,” Rendor said as he finished stuffing his few belongings into his pack. “At least I had time to sell that awful statue of Tamburah.” He jingled the pouch of coins, which only contained a quarter of what he’d earned. The rest of the coins were safely locked away in the King’s vault.
They hadn’t wanted to take them along just in case they were ambushed again. Since they knew no one in the castle had stolen the taxes, they trusted the huge iron door and deep pool of water to do their job.
Shyla would miss the kaleidoscope cave, the dancing water, and their privacy. Nintri was nineteen sun jumps away from Qulsary.
However, she knew they’d be back to give the King a full report. And she hoped they’d have time to see a few of Nintri’s wonders while there. In order to get there without drawing too much attention, Rendor had found them jobs as guards for a caravan heading to the city.
“Did you warn the owner we might run into trouble?” she asked him. It had taken them six sun jumps to find a Nintri-bound caravan that was hiring. She worried that the delay would allow the news about their destination to reach the mercs.
“No need,” Rendor said. “The mercs are not going to waste time and energy setting up an ambush when we’re traveling right to them.”
Good news for the caravan, but for them…not so much. “And what is stopping them from ambushing us in the city?”
“Two things,” Rendor said.
“And they are?”
“Me and you.”
She laughed. “I think one of us has an inflated opinion of our skills.”
“And one of us needs to start being more confident,” he countered, shouldering his pack. “Come on, we don’t want to be late.”
She followed him to the surface. The sun hung low in the sky, beginning its jump. The gravel crunched under her boots with a crispness that matched the air temperature. A number of caravans were in the process of assembling. Long lines of wagons pulled by gamelu teams waited for the signal to begin their journey.
Rendor found their caravan and introduced Shyla to Dasan, the owner.
The man eyed Shyla. “She’s not even armed.”
“She grew up in a monastery,” Rendor said.
“Doesn’t mean she studied.”
“She’s standing right here.” Shyla put her hands on her hips. “And I’m happy to give you a demonstration.”
The man grunted with amusement. “Welcome to the crew.” He returned to barking orders to the wagon drivers.
As they prepared to leave, Hakana rushed up to Shyla. “The King…” she puffed. “Said to…give you this.” She handed her a leather pouch. “It’s so the monks…Water Princess, and Heliacal Priest…know you’re working for him.”
She opened the pouch and poured the contents out onto her palm. It was a platinum bracelet. About two centimeters wide, it had a sigil crafted from osmium. It was a crown, except the points of the crown were water droplets. Clever and beautiful.
“Najib said Captain Rendor would know how to secure it around your wrist. Does he?” Hakana asked in concern.
“Yes, he does.” Memories of when Rendor locked a similar bracelet around her wrist pushed to the surface of her mind. He’d been an entirely different person then. And then another recollection followed and she almost laughed out loud. Biting down on the giggles that threatened, she gave Hakana a few coins.
“You don’t—” she started.
“I know, but we wanted to thank you for your help.”
She shot her a wide grin. “You’re welcome. Good luck.” She waved to Rendor before dashing away.
Rendor came over to her. “What did she want?”
“To give me this.” She showed him the bracelet and waited. Would he remember?
At first he scowled. Probably remembering when the old Water Prince had given Shyla his sigil to keep her safe while she investigated the theft of The Eyes. It hadn’t worked. The deacons had cut it off her wrist before they planned to torture a confession from her.
Then Rendor laughed. She loved that deep rumble.
“I was right,” he said. “You’ve gotten the King’s sigil.”
“A lucky guess. There’s no way you could have anticipated this.”
His good humor faded. “Not this. But after I met you, I thought you might inform the King about the Water Prince and return with his elite soldiers.” His gaze grew distant. “I figured they were bound to show up at some point.”
“And if they had arrived?”
“They would have killed the prince, me, and all the officers. Exactly what we all deserved.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but Dasan shouted for everyone to get ready for departure.
Rendor took the bracelet from her hand and snapped it around her right wrist, adjusting the tightness. “This will open doors, but it won’t protect you.”
She wanted to counter with a sarcastic comment. After all, she was well aware that these mercenaries were not loyal to the King. But his serious expression stopped her. “I’ll be careful.”
He squeezed her hand. “Thank you.” He hurried to take up his position at the front of the caravan with Dasan, leaving her to wonder what he was really thanking her for.
Shyla found her place alongside the fourth wagon. The caravan had eight wagons, eight drivers, four guards, four muscles, sixteen gamelus, and Dasan. The caravan owners must have figured out the best ratio of wagons to guards and muscles. Four guards meant she’d have a longer shift during darkness—forty-five angles versus the twenty-five angles with Lota’s caravan. It would give her more time to practice using her magic. She suspected she’d have a greater need of her skills in Nintri.
* * *
They arrived at Nintri nineteen sun jumps later. They hadn’t encountered any trouble during the trip—no ambushes or sand pirates. When the caravan rumbled to a stop, the muscles burst into action, unloading the colorful rugs and cushions that Dasan had bought in Qulsary and hoped to sell at the market in Nintri.
“Only one market?” Rendor had asked.
“Yes. Right in the very heart of the city,” Dasan had said. “Nintri is unique in that it has a gigantic cavern in its center. It’s twenty levels high and spans a kilometer.” Dasan had spread his hands wide to demonstrate its size. “The city also has dozens of other caverns almost as big. These spaces are linked together by tunnels like stones on a necklace. And the city is not like Qulsary where the levels go from one side of the city to the other in neat rows down to the bottom. In Nintri everything is grouped around the caverns and many levels are not connected.”
“How do you keep from getting lost?” Shyla had asked.
“Once you find the main tunnels that go between the caverns, that’s all you need to know. And those are always filled with people so they’re hard to miss.”
Shyla couldn’t wait to explore the city’s unusual layout. She had bought another head scarf before they left Qulsary. One with a pattern that would blend in with the locals. Not because she worried about being seen as a sun-kissed, but because she worried about being seen as Shyla Sun-Kissed.
It was close to darkness when they parted ways with Dasan. They avoided the main entrance into the city. Two guards stood near it, telling visitors to register. The last thing Shyla wanted to do was let the city’s guards know she’d arrived. The mercenaries had probably bribed a couple guards to pass along any pertinent information. And with that in mind, they also avoided asking the guards for accommodation recommendations. Instead, they followed the flow of people.
When they reached their first cavern, Shyla couldn’t help craning her neck. It was huge and well lit. Druk lanterns had been affixed to the walls from the bottom all the way to the top. Crystals glinted and streaks of color painted the surface.
“Yellow is sulfur, green is copper, and orange is iron,” a woman who’d been walking near Shyla said.
Shyla glanced at her. “Were all those substances mined from here? Is that why the cavern is so big?”
“No. Koraha’s molten core welled up into the space, then retreated, leaving a shell behind. All the caverns in Nintri were formed that way.”
“Ah, thank you.”
The woman smiled and continued on her way. It didn’t take them long to discover that most of the locals were friendly. Despite Shyla’s new scarf and Rendor’s plain clothes, they failed to blend in as well as they hoped. But as they walked through the city, welcoming strangers gave them recommendations on rooms to rent, places to visit, and which market stalls had the best quality goods.
In fact, the city practically hummed with contentment. Shyla spotted a few guards, but they interacted with the citizens, talking and laughing instead of standing on the fringes watching. The deacons also appeared to be too busy with their own chores to notice if anyone wasn’t being properly devout.
“This place is a little too…nice,” Rendor whispered to her. “It’s creepy.”
“No it isn’t. It’s refreshing.”
“It’s hiding something.”
There were no signs of the mercenaries, but she doubted they’d have a market stall advertising their services. Or that they would stand out like Rendor. Few people carried swords or knives. If anyone appeared to be a grunt for hire, it was Rendor.
After eating third meal, they rented a room near the main cavern. Or at least that was what the older woman who owned the rooms had told them. Her cluster of small apartments was located at a dead end, which Rendor hadn’t liked until he learned there was a back door in their suite to another tunnel.
“The heart cavern is just another kilometer or two down the main artery,” the woman said as she unlocked the door to their room. “You’ll want to be there right at the sun’s apex. It’s glorious.” She dropped the key into Rendor’s palm. “Let me know if you need any help. My granddaughter guides people through the lava tunnels, but she can also navigate Nintri blind.”
“I’ve read about those lava tunnels,” Shyla said. “Were they formed the same way as the caverns? By the molten core?”
“Yes, though they’re deep underneath the city. Some are still hot and others are filled with toxic gas so you have to be very careful. Which is why the Water Princess will only allow guided tours.”
Good to know. Shyla thanked the woman and closed the door behind her. Rendor was already exploring. It wasn’t a big place, but there was a sitting area with a desk and sand clock. One extra-large sleeping cushion occupied its own room—Rendor had requested it and the woman’s gaze had swept over him as she readily agreed. Another room had a big stone table with enough cushions that they could invite people over. Plenty of druk lanterns shone with a red-tinted light.
Rendor checked the back door, opening it and peering out as if he expected an ambush. Satisfied, he closed and locked it. They were on level twenty-nine and a half. She’d no idea why they’d bothered with the half. It was either a level or it wasn’t.
Shyla was about to ask Rendor his thoughts on the numbering when she met his heated gaze. His thoughts were obviously not on the strange quirks of Nintri but rather on the fact they hadn’t been alone in nineteen sun jumps.
“Come here,” he said, spreading his arms wide.
Just like that, her focus shrank to one person. And the rest of the world disappeared.
* * *
Much later, they discussed their plans for the upcoming sun jump.
“We’re not splitting up,” Rendor said in his I-must-be-obeyed voice. His arms tightened around her. They were curled together on the sleeping cushion.
“We can get more done. There won’t be an ambush on the way to the monastery.”
“How do you know?”
“The monks would never allow it.” She waited, but his muscles remained tense. “I grew up in a monastery; the monks are sworn to protect the King. Plus a portion of those taxes go to the monasteries. They wouldn’t steal from the King.”
He reluctantly agreed. “While you’re visiting the monks, I’ll make a few discreet inquiries about the mercs and then check out the market.”
“I’ll meet you there at apex.”
“Should I be insulted that you’re only promising to meet me because you want to see what’s glorious about the heart cavern?” he teased.
She met his gaze. “I already know what’s going to be glorious in that cavern at that time.”
“You do?”
“Yes. You.” She was dead serious.
But he laughed it off. “Yeah, right. I already agreed to your plan, no need to use false flattery.”
Before she could correct him, he glanced at the sand clock. “We better get moving if you’re going to make it back in time.”
* * *
After a number of helpful people pointed her in the right direction, Shyla finally found an exit to the surface. It was about angle twenty. Warm enough not to need a sun cloak, but not yet blazing hot.
She spun in a slow circle, getting her bearings. Part of her education included learning the names and locations of all the monasteries in Koraha. The Monks of Callow lived four kilometers southwest of Nintri. The leader of the Callow monks was Barika.
Once she determined the correct direction, Shyla set off at a fast pace. With all those sun jumps traveling with the two caravans, she’d learned how to spot the well traveled yet still sand-covered paths, therefore avoiding having to trudge through the deeper sand.
Shyla kept her mental shield down as she walked, scanning for any bumps that would indicate a person lurked nearby. Remembering the mercs who hid underneath the sand, she aimed her magic through the grains as well. She passed a few velbloud caretakers out feeding the flocks. Soon she was far enough away from the city to spot the light tracks of the monks out on patrol. They wore special wide-soled boots to avoid leaving prints in the sand. Only those who knew what they were looking for could find them.
Another couple angles later, she encountered a few bumps. Even though the monks wore turbans, tunics, and pants that matched the reddish-orange color of the desert, Shyla located them lying on top of the dunes. By the time she reached the surface building for the monastery, she had counted sixteen monks—more than Hanif would assign, but nothing alarming. Not even when they moved closer. It was standard procedure when a stranger approached their home.
Inside the simple one-room structure was a single monk. He stood when she entered. Behind him were the steps down into the monastery. If she tried to get around him and enter without permission, he’d call out and the other monks would rush in to help him stop her.
“How can I help you?” he asked.
The young monk wore a dark green tunic and matching pants. Each order of monks had chosen a different color to wear when they were inside. The practice allowed monks to know each other’s order at a glance. The Monks of Parzival wore tan.
