The First Binding, page 70
The Master Binder squinted, searching me for the trick of it, but whatever he saw, it wasn’t what he wanted. I had almost thought he’d shout, try to bring me up on other charges, declare me a cheat, or denounce my penance, but no. He broke into that odd and bothersome grin again. The one I could never guess the meaning of. His eyes danced with a light that unsettled me. “Son of Something … at least.” The smile widened.
“Well, well. The little shit has done a tidy little trick. Maybe you do have the mind to be a binder.” The Master Binder’s lips pursed and he adopted an expression that could have been thoughtful consideration.
That nearly rocked me out of my stupor. I fumbled for words but found them too far gone to grasp. “I’m sorry? Wait, Rishi—”
But the Master Binder had turned and walked away.
All around me people broke back into whispers. And I was certain I had heard the words, “Unburned.”
It wouldn’t be the last time either.
I smiled and headed to Radi.
SIXTY-FIVE
FAVORS
“Brahm’s bloody ashes and bloody tits and…” Radi shook his head as he threw my robes around me, pushing my cane into my hand as well. “What the hell was that?”
A dull spot throbbed in my arm, and it took me a long moment to realize Radi had punched me. I stared at my biceps, then him.
Radi held a look somewhere between bewilderment and childlike glee. “Did you see old Rishi Ibrahm’s face? You stumped him as much as anyone else in the crowd. And Nitham’s face was something properly worth remembering. I might cobble up a song about it. He went damn near as ashen as the coals.” He clapped a hand to my back. “Blood and bone, Ari. You’re going to have to tell me how you did that.”
He spoke too fast for me to wholly keep up with, but I managed. My voice turned weak and unsteady when I spoke. “Help me with my socks and shoes?”
Radi moved the second I finished and did as I asked. “You know everyone will be talking about this for the whole season at least?”
I found more earnest energy to reply to that. “I hope they talk about it for longer than that. I hope they never forget.” I leaned harder on my cane, my breathing coming heavier than before.
Radi gave me a long look, the chagrin fading. “We should get you to the Mendery.”
I didn’t have the heart to disagree. “Carefully. I don’t want too many to see.”
He said something else but my fatigue and the bleariness of the thiplan grew too strong.
I don’t remember the walk, only my clouding vision.
* * *
“Hsst!” An elbow struck my ribs, snapping me out of my drug-induced haze. “Ari.”
I shook myself clear. Well, as much as was possible under the effects of the thiplan.
The Mendery had none of the warmth of the Artisanry. It held to more cold than anything the mountains or Ghal’s snowy climate could offer. A place of metal and stark white-tiled floors. Only the emptiest of colors found a home here; the grays of steel, stone, and little else. Wide and spacious glass windows let in light in some areas, but just as many were shuttered.
I immediately developed a distaste for the place.
A young woman came over to us. Her red hair and brows were a shade darker than beets, likely from dye. It suited the bronze of her skin. High cheekbones and dark lashes, all of which served to make her bright eyes stand out all the more. It could have been the thiplan’s effects, but her brown irises made me think of honey sprinkled with cinnamon. Warm. Inviting.
She met my eyes, then turned her attention to Radi. “What’s wrong with him?”
Radi sidestepped the question. “He had to walk the fire today—penance.”
Her eyes widened. “Get him to one of the slabs. I’ll take a look at him, but it’ll be better if we get Rishi Marshi to go over him. Tch. Get him out of his shoes and socks.” She went over to a basin and scrubbed her hands vigorously with water and soap all the way up to her elbows.
Radi led me over to one of the slabs, a block of solid stone under a sheet of thick metal.
“Get him out of his robes too,” said the student.
Radi did as he was asked, helping me remove my shoes first, then socks, then taking everything else from me until I sat in my shirt and pants. “Want me to stay?”
I shook my head. “You’ve done enough, thanks.”
He frowned. “Your voice sounds like you’ve been singing all night and morning … badly so, by the way. It’s cracked—dry. It wasn’t before. Blood and ashes, Ari, what did you do?”
I met his eyes, but said nothing.
He glowered for a moment before letting it go. Radi raised his hands in a gesture of defeat and took a few steps back. “Fine, keep your secrets. Just promise you’ll tell me eventually?”
I nodded. “Eventually.”
Then he left.
The young woman returned, grabbing hold of one of my ankles and raising my foot. She looked at it for the time it takes to have ten measured breaths. “That’s odd.”
“Hm?” I couldn’t bring myself to say anything else.
“You walked the fire and you don’t have a single burn. Not a scar. No coloration of your feet.” Her mouth pulled tight into a frown that deepened a second later. “Or any feeling in your feet.”
“They feel fine to me.”
“Liar.” She didn’t miss a beat and then inspected my other foot. “Because if you did, you’d have yelped.”
I said nothing.
“I’ve been pinching the soft flesh of your soles, well, the places there aren’t any calluses. How did your feet get like this?” Another frown, thoughtful this time. “They wouldn’t spare you from the coals, though.” Her eyes widened as she looked at my face. She traced a finger through the air, keeping its tip just shy from touching my eyelashes.
“You’re slow. You’ve been speaking dully, but that could be shock and from the pain. Maybe a bad night’s sleep too from fear, but no, your eyes are slow too. Your pupils are large. Open your mouth.”
“What?”
“Open your mouth.” She stared, not exactly a glare, but the sharpness in her eyes made it very clear she wouldn’t ask again.
When I took no action to do as she said, her hand reached out and took one of my ears between her fingers.
“If you don’t open your mouth, I will turn this until you finally do begin to feel it. That, or it’ll tear free given your stupefied state. Open. Your. Mouth.”
“That’s enough, Fhaldar Masha.” The Master Mender came toward us from the far end of the Mendery. Or as far as I could properly see with my addled vision. He looked exactly the same as the day I’d first met him. The dark robes, the balding head touched with a crown of black hair, threaded with gray, running along the sides of his scalp. And the crooked nose, of course, that had to have been earned in a fight.
Masha inclined her head. “Yes, Rishi, but you should see this.”
I blinked at that. “Him, technically. I’m not a this, or a that. I’m a me—a him, if we’re going to be pedantic about it.”
She turned back to me, looking me over like she hadn’t before. “I have a good feeling you’re quite used to being pedantic, and just as used to thinking you’re funny when you’re far from it.”
I scowled.
Masha looked like I’d suddenly decided to take a shit on the table. “And he seems to have lost control of his facial expressions. I’m not sure what that was or what he meant for it to be.”
I tried to sober myself immediately, realizing my best bet sat in being quiet and still.
Something I still hadn’t developed a taste for.
Rishi Marshi gently eased Masha to one side. He cupped my chin, tilting my head to one side. “Ari, would you open your mouth for me, please?”
I did as he asked.
“Mhm. Dry. Look at me.”
I did.
He traced his finger through the air much like Masha had done. “You walked the fire today, didn’t you?”
I nodded.
“And yet, your feet aren’t burned. No scalding. No ashen skin. Nothing broken. Nothing so much as pink or red as a boy blushing after a girl’s kiss. Hm, no. Some students try to be clever, you know? Little tricks like wetting their feet, running over and trying to walk in awkward ways hoping to spare themselves much of the pain. It works … to a degree. But this”—he shook his head—“no, is something else.” He leaned close to one of my feet.
“Notice the smell?” He glanced sideways to Masha.
“Smell?” She leaned in and followed his lead. “Smells…” Masha trailed off, clearly in thought. “It’s an earthy smell, strong. An herb? Something like incense too. Dried herbs? But what?”
Rishi Marshi smiled. “Good nose. Yes. Ari, are you in any pain?”
I shook my head. “Should I be?”
He exhaled. “Yes, considering my thumb and two fingers have been squeezing into the nerve running from your shoulder to your small fingers. Here, just inside your elbow.” He nodded to the spot.
I looked down to see he spoke the truth. The Master Mender had dug into the nerve everyone cursed when they bumped their elbow into a corner and their arm went numb.
“Slowed reactions. Dulled eyes and senses. Loss of feeling, even as far as pain and registering touch. Also, strong herbal odor from the feet along with no signs of burns.” He spoke like someone reciting a list of goods off a trading ledger. Measured, emotionless, matter-of-fact. “What do you make of that, Fhaldar Masha?”
“I think the Accepted here took some kind of drug that dulled his senses and spared him much of the pain from walking the fire. But I can’t make sense of him not being burned.”
Rishi Marshi nodded. “Very good. Close. Would you bring me a pint and a half of water, two scruples of sugar, and just as much salt. I will also need these.” He leaned to one side and grabbed a thin wooden board with a piece of parchment fixed to it by a thick pin. Master Mender produced a graphter and scribbled away. “These will help purge the toxin building up in his system.”
“Toxin?” She didn’t eye him when she spoke, keeping her attention on the list he’d handed her.
“Oh, yes. Accepted Ari here, in his attempted cleverness, has filled his body with a low dose of toxins. He will need to urinate and sweat them out.” He gave me a knowing look. “It will be miserable, and he will sleep rather poorly. Now, would you fetch those things for me, Fhaldar Masha?”
“Yes, Rishi.” She hurried off as ordered.
“Now, Ari.” The Master Mender leaned close. “Do you know what thiplan is?” He looked at me like he already knew the answer.
I nodded.
“I thought as much. So, my real question is this: Where did a city boy, child thief, and whatever other titles you’ve earned, learn of this? How did you know thiplan oil can be used as a mild fire repellant?”
I opened my mouth to answer but ended up dry coughing instead. My lungs felt like hot hands wrung them, and the lining of my throat had gone raw as if scratched.
Masha returned, handing the Master Mender the water. She then passed him two palm-sized dishes of glass. White powders sat in each. Then she brought over another set of dishes with varying colored powders.
“Thank you, Masha. Mix the salt and sugar into the water. Accepted Ari has a parched throat. I’m sure all the talking he’s been doing to get himself into trouble is the cause.” The look Rishi Marshi gave me made it apparent he knew the cause had been from my overdose of the herb.
Masha treated the water and passed it to me. “Drink slowly, or you’ll choke.” Her voice stayed artfully neutral in a way that made me think she might have liked to see me choke after all.
I sipped, finding instant relief.
“Accepted Ari has taken a high dose of the herb thiplan. It usually is brewed in very low doses in tea to serve as a mild relaxant. Nothing more. But it possesses another odd property. It is used to treat burns, which you know. It’s soothing and can numb the skin for short periods of time. In excessive use, it absorbs into the skin and causes the severe symptoms Ari is exhibiting here. If enough is applied, it blocks the pores and coats the skin, remaining outside like sweat. What was absorbed is also sweated out. The oil is susceptible to extreme heat and fire. It will burn off slowly.”
Masha nodded, scribbling on a pad of her own. The focus of her face told me she only had a mind for the rishi’s words and not the implication behind them. She fixated on the medical lesson before her and not my trickery.
A little blessing for me. She wouldn’t spread word of how I avoided being burned. Or even bother to remember.
“Tend to your other duties now, will you?” Rishi Marshi dismissed her and she left with a little bow.
“Now, Ari. Where did you learn of this?”
I swallowed, then took another sip of water. “My life in the theater. My adoptive father, Khalim, used to coat his hands in it before working with fire. During plays, the audience didn’t really care when performers left the stage only to return just as quick. In their brief moment offstage, they’d coat exposed parts of themselves in the oil. We used it during swordfights that involved burning blades, or anything to do with fire and lightning, like out of Brahm’s stories. Old binder’s tales. Those things.”
He grunted. “Makes sense. Did they have the sense to wash it off afterward?”
I thought about it, and then realized I had always seen Khalim’s actors scrubbing themselves raw wherever they had put the oil. I never thought twice about it, believing it just an annoyance to them. “Yes, they did.”
“Smart people, then. You’ve taken in a nearly dangerous amount. Nearly.” He reached out for the skin of water and I handed it to him. Master Mender then mixed in the other powders. “These herbs will help you sweat out the rest of the thiplan. You’ll feel hotter eventually and your body temperature will rise. The sugar and salt are to help your body find balance. Thiplan saps some nutrients from you when absorbed into the skin in high amounts.”
I nodded and thanked him, sipping more of the water down.
“Go slow with the drinking. But when you recover, I would like a favor from you, if you would? And I would be inclined to give you one in return.”
I stared, all I could really do in the moment, hoping he’d clarify.
“I’ll keep this a little secret, hm? The walking the fire without so much as a burn. You’re clever. And I have use for clever minds and the hands that go with them. I’ve heard you contested a binding from Master Binder as well. You have potential. I’d like to see what you can do with it. That’s fair, ji-ah?”
“Ji.”
SIXTY-SIX
LORE AND LEARNING
Rishi Marshi hadn’t exaggerated when he said I’d be sweating. I spent the rest of the day in a feverish daze, retiring to my rooms to endure the process of detoxifying my body. The urge to lie in bed and soak clean through my clothes and sheets was overwhelming. But, I chose the smarter route of stripping and sitting on the floor, burning at a temperature that kept any of Ghal’s cold from reaching me.
The occasional wipe from a rag wetted in my water basin helped keep the heat from growing to be too much.
That day passed much like the one before. I missed dinner and went to bed hot, hungry, and somewhere between clear and muddled thoughts. Enough to dredge up a renewed hatred for Nitham and what he’d dragged me through. In many ways, that night reminded me of my earlier nights of being a sparrow.
Hunger, pain, and someone to focus my hatred on.
The simple things can keep a man going.
* * *
A chill racked me, blood and bone, in the early morning. I woke before the sun had even broken over the horizon. My body had sweated through the night until all of the thiplan was purged through that or frequent urinating. Now, the heat had fled me as well as the herb’s effects.
I rose, shivering and with a head of mortar and wool. It took me longer than usual to slip into my clothes and robes, and I had far more need of my cane today than yesterday. I figured that came from my further weakened state post walking the fire and sweating out most of my fluids. Missing dinner didn’t help.
Dressed, I took my time going down to Clanks, the food hall. It had earned its name for the endless clanking of metal trays and cups. Someone was always banging one onto a table, clinking their drinks, or dropping one. The noise, given the number of students, could rise to deafening levels at times.
Breakfast today made me doubly miss what I had passed over the night before. Pumpkin and squash mash, salted and buttered. Roasted chickpeas, thori, and a bone broth—no meat. While it was filling, it didn’t satiate me the same way. Maybe a life of poverty had made me especially appreciative, and with time, desirous of meat, but all the same, I noticed its absence.
Radi and Aram didn’t join me in the morning, and more than ever, I wished they had.
Years as a sparrow taught me to know when people watched me. And now they were, intensely so.
A few whispers reached my ears.
“Saw him walk it yesterday around fifth candle. Swear I did.”
Another voice then. “He didn’t flinch.”
“He didn’t make a noise.”
“I heard he stopped in the middle and just stood there, burning, but he didn’t burn.”
“Mhm. Saw it too. He didn’t. Just walked through the fire and gave Master Binder one fierce staredown. Never seen someone look at a master like that; Brahm’s ashes, swear I haven’t. Not even just a lower rishi. A master!”
“I talked to Masha. She worked the Mendery when he came in. She told me his feet didn’t even get red from the coals. Nothing. It’s like he can’t be burned.”
I finished my mash, leaving the rest of my meal alone. The story could use some tweaking, and I saw fit to give it a good twist. I got to my feet and walked through the cramped tables. A student tried to shuffle by me, heading toward one of the groups deep in gossip. I put a hand on their shoulder and stopped them.
