The First Binding, page 45
But seeing the man before me changed the rhythm of my hatred from steady strings to the discordant cries of a mandolin badly out of tune.
Hatred all too quickly shifts its shape from the recognizable to angry nameless things that take us in its grip. And it seized me whole, promising to build to something I’d lose control over.
“Don’t say his name.” My voice couldn’t have been heard over the sounds of crumbling stone and thunder above.
“Ah?” Koli tilted his head, cupping a hand to his ear. “Khalim? You don’t want me to say Khalim?”
“Stop it!” I raised the match for him to see.
“Oh-ho. And with that you’ll finish burning my home, huh? Is that it?” His eyes took on an odd light. The same sort they’d carried the night he’d killed my family and took everything from me.
“Yes.” I couldn’t tell what shook more in that moment, my hand or my voice.
Koli spread his arms wide as if inviting me to do that very thing. “Try it and see what happens. You were there, boy, and you heard what I told the old binder. You know what I am. And you know I can’t die. Only you and I know this little secret.” He pursed his lips as if falling back into deep thought.
“I wonder what will happen if I let you go again. Will you try to find me after tonight? Try to burn another precious prize of mine? I wonder. I wonder.” Koli tapped his temple with two fingers before breaking into a wide and wolfish grin. The lupine light in his eyes intensified, half mischief, half hunger.
“I’ll find you wherever you go. However long it takes.” My voice rose to drown out the sounds of the storm. “I’ll chase you forever! I hate you. I’ll find a way to kill you.”
Koli threw back his head and laughed.
I tossed the match.
The carpet burst into flames and Koli stopped laughing.
I turned and ran toward the front doors, throwing my weight against them. They crashed open and I stumbled. Dull pain smashed into me as I tumbled down the short set of stairs leading to the ground.
“You won’t find the girl, either, Ari. She’s gone. Gone from where even I can see her! I sent little Nisha off long ago! See if you can find her.” Koli’s voice came as clear as if he stood right beside me and not in the center of a burning building.
Smoke billowed from some of the windows only to be dispersed by the rain. Firelight danced through the rooms and cast violent shadows along the walls from where I could see.
The storm would save parts of Koli’s building, but we’d destroyed the stores of joy he’d had on hand. Even if he had more, even if he had a dozen more buildings, I’d paid him back in kind.
He knew I’d find a way to make good on my word and, one day, kill him for good.
That was enough for tonight.
I scrambled off my back and ignored my throbbing body. Running wasn’t an option, so I limped into a weak jog, making my way far into the safety of the nearest alley.
Two questions hung in my mind as I wound my way back toward my home.
Was he truly unkillable?
And why had he let me live then … and now?
THIRTY-NINE
AN EMPTY NEST
I reunited that night with Juggi and Nika inside the first floor of our home, embracing them in tight and wet hugs. The two had paled a shade under the rain while running back.
Small Kaya had stoked a fire to life in anticipation of our return and brought us bone stew and freshly warm bread. To our surprise, we found the meal flavored with more spices than the norm as well as tender strips of red meat.
I eyed her.
“It was going to be a long night. A cold night. We had the coin, and there is only enough for the three of you.” She said it as if it were explanation enough. It wasn’t, but that was her way. It was how she showed she cared. Small Kaya left as quietly as she came, making it clear that had been the end of any hospitality we could expect that night.
We ate in silence, sharing the warmth of our meal and fire together. And once we’d finished, we sat silent still, listening to the cacophony of rain and thunder above as much as the crackling of the flame.
“What happened?” Nika didn’t look at me as she broke the quiet. “We made it to the roof and over to the next building when everything shook. And the storm came out of nowhere. What happened, Ari?”
I told them. I spoke of setting the building alight and then rushing through it in hopes of finding Nisha—one last effort to see my friend. Then I reached the part of the story where I’d encountered Koli.
Juggi and Nika watched me with perfect stillness, hanging on every word.
I told them how Koli came to the room almost as if summoned by magic, leaving out what I knew of his true identity. One of the Ashura. One of those demons and storybook nightmares meant to terrify children and the superstitious. One of those relics from old fables in which the hero fights fearsome monsters and triumphs. That’s what he was, something to be conquered by the noble and the bright.
At least in the stories.
In reality, I began to suspect Koli fared better than any hero sent to kill his kind in the tales told over time.
“Then what?” Juggi leaned closer to me, wrapping his arms around himself to shake off the last of his chill.
“He mocked me. Made light of killing my family, so I felt it fair to make light of him in kind. I struck the match and threw it at the rug.”
Nika let out a low whistle but said nothing else.
“So, you did it? You killed him, I mean?” Juggi inched even closer.
I shook my head. “No. I saw the carpet go up in fire, but Koli just laughed. I ran before seeing what happened next, afraid of being caught in the fire and what Koli might try to do.”
Only the crackling fire and the waning storm offered any sounds for a moment.
Nika licked her lips and moved closer toward the warmth of the hearth. “Do you think he’s coming for us—for you?”
I shook my head again. “No. If he wanted to, he could have done me in there. I don’t know why he didn’t. I don’t think he’ll come for us, but I don’t like the idea of sitting around to find out. I say we sleep and lock the doors tonight. Tomorrow, we send some sparrows to check out his joy house and see what’s left.” I hadn’t phrased it as a question, but I hoped Juggi and Nika would weigh in.
“I don’t know if I’ll feel comfortable until I see it with my own eyes. I might want to go look myself tomorrow,” said Nika.
Juggi nodded in agreement.
“I feel the same.” I had to see the joy house myself before I believed anything another sparrow told me.
We settled the matter and gave each other one last hug in equal parts of relief and reassurance that we would get through this.
Then, I headed up to my room for a much-needed sleep.
* * *
Nika and I pulled aside six sparrows the next morning, making it clear that they were to take breaks between their shifts through the day and stop by Koli’s joy house, remaining far enough away to be able to flee if need arise. They were to report back over the day and confirm, over and over, the state of the building.
“What do you think they’ll find?” Nika tore a piece of thori and wolfed it down, chewing it open-mouthed.
I shrugged. “I’m not sure, but I know a part of me hopes they tell us the whole place has burned down to dust and dirt. It can’t happen, but I’d feel better knowing there’s nothing left of Koli and his joy house.”
A full candle change later we’d been informed the building had in fact been reduced to nothing.
Nika and I traded a look and asked the sparrow to repeat herself.
“Nothing, Ari-sahm.”
I waved her off. “Don’t call me that, just say it one last time. Describe it clearly.”
She rubbed the back of a shirtsleeve against her nose. “Nothing there. Not one stone on the ground. It’s like it was all burned and then swept away.” My little sister, Ishi, pulled out a folded piece of cloth from one of her pockets. “But I plucked eight chips today.” She beamed.
I tried to match her enthusiasm in earnest and fell short, but Ishi couldn’t tell. “That’s great.” I clapped her reassuringly on the shoulder and guided her over to Juggi to tally sums.
Once she’d moved out of sight, I gave Nika a knowing look. “You heard her, but do you believe her?”
She frowned. “I want to see it.”
I inclined my head. “Same. Let’s go.”
* * *
We made our way into the Soft Quarter where Koli’s joy house had been last night. Only now, nothing remained.
True to Ishi’s words, it was like the building had been swept away like dust in wind. Not a single charred or broken stone remained. It had been completely severed from the building beside it like it never existed. No bits of bottle glass from the previous night. No tinge and stains of smoke.
No sign of Koli and his runners.
Nothing.
“I don’t understand,” said Nika.
“Neither do I.” We stood there together, staring at a place so perfectly empty it could only have been the result of intentional effort.
But how? How could one person wipe away an entire building and all trace of it?
Something struck me as I thought it over.
“Nika, how many of his runners did the sparrows run into today? How many did we see?”
She blinked several times as if not registering the question. “What?”
I repeated myself.
Nika held her look on the building before finally speaking. “None. Not a single mention today.”
I heard what she’d said but it didn’t sink in. Every word might as well have been as far from me and my mind as the clouds above. I walked, almost as if led by puppet strings, toward the spot the building had taken up last night.
The space itself put my hairs on end and sent bumps across my arms. I knelt to run a hand along the ground.
Empty dirt with no promise of anything else now and before. A ground that had never been anything but itself. I scooped up some of soil, watching it slip between my fingers.
“What are you doing there? Oi!” The voice tore me from my wondering.
I shuffled to regard the speaker.
A man, somewhere in his middle years, stared at me. He had dressed for the day’s heat in loose and light robes, all without a hint of color but tired white that had long since lost its luster. His was wrapped in a simple length of cloth the same color with a tail of the fabric hanging openly over a shoulder.
“What happened to the building here? What of the man behind it, Koli? Where is he now?” I had spoken without thinking. The words had come to me from a part of my mind that still held to the questions no matter how dazed I’d become.
The man glanced at the spot where the building had been, then me. “The building’s gone. Heard there was a fire. They do that, fires, get rid of things.” He fixed me with a look that said I should have known as much, and that I may very well have been one of the dimmest boys he ever had the ill fortune to meet. “And I never heard of any Koli.” He waved a hand through the air as if dismissing the name altogether.
“Everyone knows of Koli. Haven’t you ever seen a cotton-eyes before? Who do you think gives them the drug?”
The man rolled his eyes and moved by, making it clear the conversation had ended. He’d made it a dozen paces past me before turning to address me. “If there ever was anyone in that run-down place, he’d have had the sense to leave Keshum and Abhar when his fortunes and life burned. Maybe he went far to the south. It’s easier for a man to get by. This”—he jabbed a finger toward the ground—“is a city and kingdom for those with wits about them. And if he had two bits of wit to rub together, he’d be gone. That’s all that there is to it.” The man left with that.
That’s when I got my first lesson in the terrible truth of truths themselves. Some people simply do not wish to hear and see anything beyond the simple stories spun up for their ease of answers. What people truly want is the safety of familiarity. They want the knowing that the shape of the world around them hasn’t changed beyond what it has been.
People need this, you see.
Because nothing terrifies people as much as change, be the shifts subtle or great. And so, what did it matter if Koli’s house of joy burned and the man himself vanished?
It was good enough that he was gone and his drugs with him.
For people not addicted to his wares or pressed into the bodily trades under his thumb, life went on as it did yesterday. And, well, for the sparrows, it meant a newfound freedom with which we could grow even further.
Maybe the man had it right?
I found myself wondering over that as Nika led me home.
A world without Koli.
What could it mean for us? For me?
I intended to find out.
So marked what would be the next year of my life in Keshum, free from thoughts and fears of the Ashura, of revenge, and the loss of things. Now was the time for me to take. For my hungry sparrow’s hunger to slake.
FORTY
IDLE HANDS
Over a year had passed since Koli’s disappearance from Keshum, and by the rumors, Abhar overall. A year of unbothered sparrows collecting coin and secrets, peddling the latter back to those with heavy purses willing to part with pieces of their wealth. And in all the hidden knowings, not one carried half a hint of Koli’s location. Not one shred spoke of strange happenings like the night my family and home first burned.
No mention of demons. No whispers of Ashura. And not a word of Nisha, though I tried to find her. Believe me.
I did.
I spent what I could, traded what whispers I heard for any of my old friend, and was met with a silence reserved for the dead.
It was as if Koli had been nothing more than a nightmare, and now he’d gone as quickly as he’d come. And Nisha had grown to be nothing but a dream gone upon waking.
The pair had vanished so cleanly it could leave a man wondering what had ever been real.
But Koli’s absence ate at me more than the year he had been running his share of Keshum’s streets. At least during that time, I knew he was out there, and if I had the whim and means, I could find him.
Now without that and the clarity of anger that came with it, I’d fallen into hollow complacency.
The sparrows hardly needed my help now to run things. Chicken-scratched letters filled my desk, once Mithu’s, telling me of all the things to be told within Keshum. Traders doing what they did best—not tallying sums and selling spices, but faithfully being unfaithful to their wives and children. Some had families it seemed in other kingdoms, other countries. How they managed to feed them all remained outside my understanding.
Rumors reached me of the second son of the king of Thamar. The young man, almost in his nineteenth year of life, had been said to have climbed into the trade of drugs harder than white-joy. Something subtle and secret by way of the west routes through the desert kingdoms along that way. His father, rather than make a public spectacle of the boy’s punishment, sent him off to the fabled Ashram instead.
The idea of that pulled at a memory buried deep inside of me. An old promise and excitement over going there myself. A man—Mahrab—telling me of the wonders to be found there. The path to living a story of my own in the vein of Brahm himself.
Bindings. Magic. Forgotten things. Adventure and knowledge. All the things a curious young boy with the time and space for dreams could wish for.
But it had grown to be a distant dream in the face of reality and responsibility. Even if the sparrows didn’t need me to manage the micro happenings of the day, they still looked to me to play a role somewhat like Mithu’s.
I sighed and pushed myself up from the desk, going to the side wall where the windows sat. Two pegs of black iron had been worked into the space between a pair of the arches. On it sat a curved sword of no particular remarkability. Simple. Serviceable. And the kind of thing bought for pieces of copper—no precious coin needed, maybe a lot of tin if it came handily used or you were lucky.
The sword I’d picked up the day Mithu and his thugs had died.
My days had taken to blurring, one into the next, all without a fuel to fan my fire and keep me fixated on a goal.
What to do without Koli and Mithu?
I plucked the sword from its resting place, peering out one of the windows as I did.
The streets were countless pinwheels set spinning under the wind. Every color of the rainbow, and then dozens more you would be hard-pressed to find names for, mixed and streamed through the streets.
Today was a busy day. A bright day. People were high in spirits. Money flowed, spent and earned. And a festival hung above the streets and in the hearts of those on it.
I pulled myself away from the view, nursing a small ache to be out there with my sparrows, doing the simple things of clutching and overhearing those too talkative to know any better.
My feet moved almost of their own accord, taking me back to the rooftop where my life as a sparrow had changed. The sun still cast a pale glow from behind scant cloud cover, lighting up most of Keshum with gentle ease.
But the true and better brightness of the day came from countless shapes flitting through the sky. Serpents on strings, some simple things tailored to be basic shapes, and some such cloth cut to be strung to wooden frames to create dancing boxes.
Kites of all colors shifted and danced from nearly every flat rooftop of Keshum. They wove somewhere between the deft control of skilled hands and the mercy of the wind today. A look around showed me children to young men all partaking.
Many had their hands wrapped in bandages to spare their tender flesh what was to come.
Sharpened strings, glass-lined, ready to cut each other as much as they could the flyer of the kites.
Twist, pull.
A kite reined in short, careening toward another. Their strings met and the flyer let his grip loosen. His kite rose higher, rubbing the tethers together. They slowed. Gnawed and biting at one another, almost like two sparring swords that struck and stuck, each hoping to saw through the other’s blade rather than pull away to begin the fight anew.
