The First Binding, page 40
I inspected my chest at the foot of my bed more out of habit than anything else. My in-room treasure had grown to house a wooden horse with a mane from actual horsehair. I had a few glassworks—little flowers of red and green. I didn’t know their value, but I liked the look of them and felt I should keep them no matter what. A stone for sharpening my knife, also given to me by Mithu. I had a piece of green stone, almost like polished moss and glass, that I hadn’t a clue about in its origin, name, or anything else.
But it felt special, and to a young boy with little in the world, that alone made it special. And lastly, my book.
There had been a time where I’d tried in earnest to continue my mastery of the folds and the candle and the flame. It never came. And I still hadn’t been able to open the book.
I shut the trunk and made my way out of my room, heading up to Mithu’s chambers in the hope he was there. The double doors barring the way were open a crack. I leaned forward, peering through the gap.
Mithu sat cross-legged on a cushion, puffing plumes of smoke as Biloo tallied sums from what coin had already come in earlier. Askar indulged in the same pleasure as Mithu, inhaling from the pipe occasionally as the men passed it back and forth. A good enough sign they were in a good mood.
I rapped my knuckles on the door and waited.
“Who’s there?” Mithu sounded dazed and distant, like he’d just woken up.
“Ari, Abah.”
“Ahhhhh. Ari.” He rolled the R’s when he spoke, drawing out the rest of my name as well, which was something considering how short it is. “Come-come.”
I pushed open the doors and entered, walking to within twelve steps of him—the appropriate amount we were taught to stand before our adoptive father.
He took another puff and looked me over, then thrust his chin up in a gesture that asked a silent question.
“I’ve been wondering about some things, Abah. I’m up early, I’ve been pulling good coin between listening and clutching, and wanted to know if we could talk?”
He tilted his head in what I knew to be a nonvocal yes, and then waved me to speak. “Ask-ask, Ari. Ask. You’ve earned any talk you want.”
I swallowed. I could ask a lot, and Mithu would likely answer, but jumping to the heart of what I wanted could rile him. Khalim had once taught me about the art of talking to people, of inching your way to what you wanted. You had to start small, but at the heart of something important.
So I did.
“It’s about the missing sparrows, my brothers and sisters.”
Mithu nodded and sucked on the smoking pipe again. “Mhm. It still troubles you?”
I nodded.
“I know it’s hard, Ari. But sometimes, sometimes some of the rescued birds just want to fly free. I try not to take it as a hurt on my heart. Some can’t stand it here. Some can’t weather the life. Some simply don’t like the life I’ve offered them. So they run. They take what little treasures they’ve collected and they run.” Mithu frowned and looked down at the ground. His shoulders sagged and his face followed in kind.
“Maybe it’s my fault, hm? Maybe I give them a way to run. I let them keep things to sell and trade and find coin to leave. Maybe I’m not a good enough father.” His face tightened, and the only thing keeping me from thinking he’d come close to crying was the fact I’d never once seen him shed a tear. I didn’t think him capable of it. “What do you think, Ari, hm? Am I a bad keeper of you birds? Have I not done a good job?”
Hearing him ask that weighed my heart and chest with hot stone. He’d taken us in no matter our caste, our history, and our lack of talent in thievery and the other sparrow arts. He’d given us more than any child with nothing could ever ask for.
“You have, Abah, you have. All of us are grateful.” I placed a hand over my breast, just above my heart. “I was just worried is all. We haven’t picked up any new birds for months now.”
Mithu read my concern without me having to say another word. “And you fear our numbers will keep shrinking. That you’ll soon lose another family, huh?”
Lead filled my stomach, sinking deeper at that thought. The question brought back memories I’d let sit and collect sand. Another family gone. This time to a slow death. The same kind that had taken my thoughts of revenge and my promise to Mahrab.
The realization galvanized me to press on. I took a breath, steeling myself. “Yes, Abah, that bothers me. And … there’s more.”
The only sounds were the steady puffs and exhalations of Askar and Mithu. An occasional clink came from Biloo thumbing coins into neat piles.
Mithu grunted in what I took as an invitation to continue.
“Koli.” I let the single word fall like a piece of gold on glass. The room quieted at the mention of the man, and all eyes fixed on me with an intensity they’d lacked before.
Mithu put the smoking stem on the ground and steepled his fingers. “What about him?”
I shuffled in place, thinking about the best way to get to where I wanted. The door with a name behind it. Nisha. She seemed like the place to start. “My friend, the girl I told you about?”
He leaned back, nodding more to himself than me. “Yes-yes. The one you were worried over in his care.”
I inclined my head, but said nothing.
“I’m sorry, Ari-cha. My son. I’ve heard nothing. And that makes me think she’s in far worse trouble than we thought. Something I can’t do a thing about.”
I tilted my head, waiting for an explanation.
Mithu’s face grew tired and he shook his head like he didn’t want to go on. “Ah, Ari, it’s not a good thing at all. Are you sure you want to know this?”
I didn’t in that moment, but another part of me, the part that held nothing but anger, fire, and horrible thoughts for Koli had to know. “Yes.”
“I think Koli’s done with her. And when Koli is done with a boy or girl … he finds ways to get more out of them than when they were his little runners, hm? He puts them in the soft parlors, the service houses. You understand, yes?”
I gritted my teeth and bowed my head, not trusting myself to speak. My fingers curled and I pumped my hands, trying everything to remain calm. But acid and fire seared my heart.
“I’m sorry, little bird. I am. I wouldn’t know how to find her if that’s her fate. And I don’t have the means to get her out. Askar and Biloo are strong men, true. But this is asking too much of them. Koli is a monster.”
You have no idea.
“And he keeps many dogs on his leash. He is a bloodletter. He is quick to cut and kill a man or woman who crosses him. That is not what sparrows do. That brings us too much trouble, and our purses are thin. We do not peddle and trade in joy, so I do not have the coin to spare to buy us out of deeper trouble, understand?”
I did, but I didn’t like it. “There’s more, Abah.” I knew if I sat and thought deeper over Nisha’s fate, I would lose myself to the anger I kept in balance at the moment. So I dropped it from my mind. It wasn’t a nice thing, and it certainly wasn’t easy, but it was necessary.
“It’s about what you promised me with Koli. It’s been eight months. I still think about him, what he cost me.” I took a step closer, forgetting my place as I did. “You promised me one day we’d come for him. One day we’d take from him what he’s taken from us. I don’t understand why none of it has happened yet, Abah. Why aren’t we standing over him right now with a knife to his throat?” I took another few steps, my hands still clenched into tight fists as I tried to calm myself.
“Tell me, Abah. Tell me.” My voice never rose to anything above a hard whisper. The sharpness of it could have cut a furrow through brick and mortar, though.
Mithu exchanged a look with Askar and Biloo, almost like they had just had a private conversation without words. Then he fixed his gaze on me. “It’s not as easy as that, Ari-cha.” He rose and, for a moment, I realized how far I’d overstepped and considered backing away from him. Mithu closed the distance between us and put both hands gently on my shoulders. He shook me lightly. “Koli’s resources are greater. His manpower is more. His swords and knives, dogs and puppets to use are too many. This takes time. Thought.
“And we’ve given it that, Ari-cha. Do you want to know what I’ve thought?”
I nodded.
“We’d have to burn all of Koli’s white-joy, and the building he makes it in. We’d have to take care of the men and runners he has in that place. It’s not an easy thing, Ari. Not easy at all.” He squeezed my shoulders. “It will happen. I can’t say when, but I want to see him burn. We both do. It’ll happen. It will.”
I swallowed and accepted that. What else could I do? I didn’t have the resources, time, or ability to do it myself. And despite my frustrations, Mithu had lived up to all other promises he’d given.
“I’m sorry, Abah. I am. I just…” I trailed off and flexed my fingers again, wishing I had something to occupy my hands.
“I know. It’s a hard thing. And the hate keeps you going. I know that too. It’s a good thing to hold on to, Ari. But don’t let it take you away from what you have here—a family, a home. The sparrows need you more than you might need your revenge.”
A family that needs me.
I never once thought of it like that. And he had a point. When I’d returned to some of my theater arts, I’d taught the sparrows how to be more efficient. Maybe in time I could do even more.
“Are you at ease now, Ari-cha?”
I was. “Yes, Abah. Thank you.”
“Good, good.” He didn’t sound as if he was speaking to me anymore, but more to Askar and Biloo. “You’ve been pulling well for the last few months.” Mithu didn’t phrase it as a question.
“Yes.”
“Without fail. So smooth, Ari. Every tithing, perfect, measured, almost to the coin.” He stared at me and I saw nothing in his eyes but cold and polished stone.
I kept from visibly swallowing. “Yes?”
Did he know I stole from him? That I’d been squirreling away extra coin to occasionally pull from on days I underperformed? Had Nika found out and passed the information on to him?
My mouth ran dry as I waited for him to go on.
“You’re a good sparrow, Ari.” He clapped a hand to the side of my face, giving me an affectionate pat on the cheek. “Take the day off. I’ll tell Juggi and Nika not to tally a sum for you. Go on the streets, buy a sweet, hm? Maybe chase a girl.” He gave me a mischievous wink. “Time off is good for the mind.” Mithu motioned to Biloo, who tossed him ten tin chips in a single smooth motion. He then pressed the coins directly into my hands.
I blinked, staring at the money for several breaths, then looked at him. “Abah?”
“Sweets aren’t free, my son.” He smiled. “Go, go.”
“Thank you. I … thank you.” I clutched my fist tight around the money and all but ran from the room.
It’s funny how much a handful of small coins can change a man’s disposition, or a boy’s, in a moment of heat, questioning, and all the feelings that come with them both. But it does. And you can distract a great deal of people with a few pieces of precious metal.
But how’s a young boy to know when it’s being done to him?
I had coin in my pocket, answers, and the promise of a free day. I took them all in stride.
* * *
I nearly bounced into the common room as I headed toward the door.
Nika slid up to my side, quiet as a cat when not wanting to be caught. “You’re in a good mood.”
I smiled. “I always am when you’re around.”
She rolled her eyes, but a hint of color touched her cheeks. “You can’t say that so loud here. Someone else might hear and tell Mithu.” Nika balled a fist and smacked my arm.
“Ow.” I rubbed the spot and stared at her.
“Oh, it didn’t hurt.” She put her hand over where she’d struck. “What are you doing down here this early, anyway? You’re not to go out until next candle change. You have a full mark before that.”
I told her what happened with Mithu.
Her eyes widened when I showed her the coins. “He … gave you money? I don’t believe it. I see it, but Mithu never gives coin away.”
I stowed the coins in my pocket, not wanting any other sparrows passing by to see them. “He did. And he at least told me what’s been happening to our missing brothers and sisters. I just can’t believe it.”
“Same.”
I nodded.
“No, Ari, that’s not what I mean. I mean I don’t believe it. Why would they run? They have nowhere to go.”
I reiterated what Mithu had told me, but as I said it aloud, it rang hollow.
“But where would they go, Ari? Where? How long will some saved chips last? They can’t have taken more. No one’s stolen from Mithu. No one does. You just … can’t.”
I ran my tongue against the back of my teeth. So, she didn’t know about my stash. That was something, at least. “Right. I don’t know. But why would they leave?”
“I don’t know if they have. I’m worried. But we shouldn’t talk about this here. I’m going out for another pass of the streets before doing dog’s work on the candle change. Do you want to come with me?”
An hour alone with Nika, at least as alone as I could be on the streets of Keshum—how could I say no?
She slipped her fingers between mine and we left the house of sparrows, losing ourselves on the streets and all the chaos that came with them. Ten chips couldn’t buy us a world of pleasure, but it would do us a pretty good job of feeling that way, at least. And to two rather impoverished sparrows, well, we could hardly tell the difference between the joys of spending tin and what it meant to buy with gold.
We came across a woman with a cart of polished metal. A swirling inscription I couldn’t make out ran along its edges. The woman had all the looks of someone’s loving grandmother, hobbled by the years. The cart looked as much her livelihood as it did her means of physical support. She bid us over with an enthusiastic wave. Smoke seeped out from the corners of the lid as she moved it aside just enough for the fume to escape.
Nika and I froze, eyeing the contraption, then her.
“No fears, dears. No fears. Just a little bit of magic.”
My expression went from one of caution to suspicion. I narrowed my eyes, giving the cart another look-over in hopes of spotting the trick behind it. “What kind of magic?”
She readjusted the lid so none of the smoke continued to vent. “The little kinds done by those up at the Ashram.”
I blinked. This didn’t look or sound like anything to do with the bindings Mahrab had talked about. “What is it exactly?” I leaned closer.
“I don’t sell secrets here, boy. I sell treats. Iced mango cream. Quhli. Or maybe you’d like shaved ice with rose syrup? I have them both. And for the pretty little miss, too, yes?”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. In truth, I did want to share something like that with Nika, but a deeper curiosity pulled me toward wanting to see how this box worked. “How much?”
“Five chips.”
I sputtered. “For two treats? That’s worth a meal. A full meal at some places.”
She shrugged. “This isn’t a cheap treat or cheap tool, boy. I paid a great deal for this box from the binders up north, in the mountains, far from here. Very far. Do you know what that costs someone? No, you don’t. You couldn’t, because you’ve lived here in Keshum your whole life. You’ve never seen a different sky or even ten streets past this spot, have you?”
I glowered at her, but couldn’t bite back, knowing she had a point. At least half of one. I grumbled under my breath and passed her chips. “What’s it do?”
She beamed as she palmed my coins, making them disappear with almost as impressive a trick as her contraption. The old woman slid the lid back and grabbed a wooden spoon nearly as wide and thick as my hand. She jammed it into the cart’s basin as more smoke escaped.
I felt a coolness and realized it wasn’t smoke at all. My eyes widened as she scooped clear crystalline stone into a small bowl.
The woman read my expression. “It’s ice. Water made cold and hard. There’s plenty of it up north in the mountains. The box the binders sold me keeps the cold in and the heat away. And if I let water stay in there long enough, it too will turn to ice.” She grabbed a vial of something that looked like red oil, thick and viscous, pouring it over the ice before passing it to Nika with a small spoon.
Nika grabbed it with equal measure of wariness and excitement. She traded me a look and I shrugged, not sure what to expect of the dish. She dove in, wincing at the first bite before shutting her eyes in pleasure. “It’s cold. Sweet. So sweet.” She flashed me a smile so warm that even the old lady’s ice box couldn’t hope to withstand it.
The woman then went about making a treat for me. Scraped and chilled mango flesh, chips of ice, and what looked like chilled milk, pistachios, and cardamom. She passed it to me in a bowl the mirror of Nika’s. I followed my friend’s example and tore into it.
The first bite sent a frigid wave through the roof of my mouth that felt like it settled just behind my eyes. It stung and hammered. I winced through it, deciding the pleasure against my tongue far outweighed the icy discomfort. We passed the bowls and spoons back to the woman after finishing our treats, and something struck me.
“How far is it to the Ashram?”
She cocked a brow at me as she stowed the dishes in a separate compartment of the cart. “By cart, horse, and foot? Hm. Took me more than a set and a half at least. Without stop but for sleep. Sometimes not even that. And I spent a great deal, boy. Money I’d kept for ages.
“But my sons are gone, and my daughters married, and my husband has been ashes for a time I can’t count. No one is here to tend to me but me. So I spent to gain what I could. And now Athi Nan has the only ice treats for as far as you can see in Keshum and maybe Abhar. It was worth it.” She said nothing further, pushing away from us and breaking into a whistle song.
Nika and I wandered farther together, leaning on one another and just enjoying companionable silence.
