The First Binding, page 75
That was a far stretch in describing the space. It looked more like a prison than anything else, and my mind went to the story Vathin had told me about Brahm being trapped in a cell of stone.
No bed. Nothing of comfort. Just solid stone everywhere except for the place where it had been torn away from the walls much like the door Rishi Ibrahm had just unmade. Beyond that, open air and the mountains of Ghal. And monsoon season came in another shape here in the cold climate of the frozen kingdom.
Crystalline flakes of ice fell from the sky, stealing all my attention. To me, it looked like someone had sprinkled irregular chunks of salt onto the world.
I stepped closer, almost reaching the edge of the prison. “What happened here? Why is this wall … just gone?”
Rishi Ibrahm still kept the lopsided and clever grin on his face. “Hm? Oh. I got fed up at being locked away and unbound the mortar and stone. Well, I suppose it’s better to say I bound them to places elsewhere and blew it away.”
More snow fell and I stood transfixed by the mixture of its beauty and just how hard it bit at my exposed fingers.
How could something so pretty hurt so much?
I’d come to learn the answer to that many times over the course of my life.
“They locked you here? Why?” I didn’t look at Rishi Ibrahm for his answer.
“Because I’d gotten to be a touch too wild for them … and maybe even for myself. Say, Ari, do you know why we call this place the Crow’s Nest?”
I frowned and thought it over. “Because … it’s high up?”
The Master Binder smirked. “I suppose that’s one reason, yes. But no, Ari. When would-be binders lose their hold on their minds, thoughts, and reality, this is where they come to be. High, high up above the clouds, and away from others. And when they’ve gone full mad, this is the one place where there’s no leaving, and all you can do is crow!” Rishi Ibrahm cackled before cupping both hands to his mouth and letting loose a scream that could have been more a caw. It echoed long and far, and the nature of it seemed in defiance of the Crow’s Nest and what it stood for.
I could see some of the dots below that I took for people stop in their tracks. They must have heard the noise and paused to search for the source.
“That’s what the bindings do to a mind, Ari.” Rishi Ibrahm came to my side and put a hand on my back. “Do you know what powers them? Shapes them?”
I thought on it. “Force of will?” The exercises Mahrab had taught me revolved around impressing my will on the world and my mind. Then I remembered something else. What the Athir truly was and a line about the pillars of faith. “Faith.”
He nodded again. “And faith is a tenuous thing. Tricky, nebulous, shifting. It can come to us with the clarity of the morning sun at times. Easy, believable, and in sight. With faith, strong enough faith, a man can believe anything. But that faith can shatter and be lost just as quick. Faith can make a man many things, and it can break him too. And what you believe doesn’t just shape the world around you, Ari. It can come back to shape you. And when some binders slip in that, they begin to lose the shape of themselves—the who and what and why of their identities. Then they come to believe terrible things.
“And they become dangerous.”
Everything grew quiet but for the gentle whistling of the cold wind. I heard the sound of ice touching stone, just that brief moment of soft subtle impact before it melts.
I thought of the students I’d met in the Crow’s Nest and their proficiency with some of the bindings. With that, I started to see the shape of what Rishi Ibrahm meant in terms of the kinds of minds required for this sort of magic. And I knew the costs now.
Immi, Reppi, and Krisham. One, a girl who’d convinced herself she couldn’t truly be hurt. That her pain, if she even felt that much, was temporary because she could set it back. And as a result, she came to hurt herself every day by force of habit. Reppi idly tore and hurled stone and his foundations about for reasons I still couldn’t quite grasp. And lastly, Krisham. The young man had conflicts surrounding his own identity. Clearly a brilliant binder, but he spent parts of his time believing himself a figure out of legend and children’s stories.
And I thought about myself. My motivation. To be like Brahm.
Was I any different? Would I follow in their steps?
“So, after seeing all of this, Ari, would you still like to try to be a binder?”
I didn’t have an answer right that moment. So I worked around it instead. “Do you bring every student up here and show them this?”
He shook his head. “No. And most aren’t stubborn enough to push me into it. They listen when I tell them this isn’t for them. They go on and become nice little artisans or philosophers, dancers and wrestlers. They become arithmeticians and shape the knowledge of kingdoms and courts. Some become gurus and sages. They enlighten. You are particularly bullheaded about chasing this no matter my warnings.
“Do you know what it takes to be in my position—Master Binder?” He fixed me with a blank look.
“To know all ten bindings?”
“Cheap answer, Accepted Ari. But, yes, that is a part of it. And to have paid the many prices they ask. The control and faith. The mastery of it. That is what makes the difference. And the patience behind it all. And you lack that.”
I gave him a challenging look.
He caught it for what it was and motioned to the drop just in front of me. “You don’t believe me. Fine. Let’s test it all and your faith above everything, hm?”
“How?”
“Put your bag and staff down, hm? Your cloak too. When I push you off this ledge, Ari, I want you to believe against all things and knowledge that you will not go splat to the ground. I want you to believe that you will not become a piddly puddle of formerly annoying Ari. That you will be safe. I want you to show me the faith needed to be a binder and believe this thing till it is true. Can you do that?”
I could and I would, so I set my items aside. Mahrab had taught me how to make my Athir firm as stone. Strong enough to hold the image of moving, living fire inside it. My mind and heart brought to me all the hatred and memories I’d built for Koli. The promise of finding a way to find the Ashura, learn of them—him—and then make them all pay. And I would need the bindings for that.
I paused and thought on something Master Binder had said. “Wait, did you say, ‘When’ you push me off?”
A hand slammed into my back and sent me off the edge of the Crow’s Nest.
SIXTY-NINE
PRICES
I fell.
During it, I had only the dim awareness I had done so. There is a moment in falling, especially when not done of your own volition, where your mind simply hasn’t caught up to the fact you’re racing toward the ground. Everything slows while the rest of you races by. For the space of a breath, I found myself able to perfectly tally the number of snowflakes falling with me. Then I realized I’d done no such thing and merely took stock of the ones I could see as I fell. And the number constantly changed.
My mind reached for something to hold on to as it struggled to process the fall.
Faster now. The wind buffeted me so hard I couldn’t feel the cold of it, just the pressure. It threatened to tear my clothing away from me. My eyes ached from the rushing of air.
I’m falling now. Faster. The world is closing onto me and I can only make out the stone of the tower. It runs on for what seems forever, and the ground feels so far away.
But it’s closer now.
The dots upon the world grow larger and into clarity.
Students watch me, waiting to see what will happen.
And I do the only thing I can hope to do.
The folds.
I slip into them, and no small part of prayer, too. The folds of my mind come into view and I imagine what Rishi Ibrahm told me. I will not fall. But I am. And I know this thing is not true.
I will hit the ground. And I will die.
Closer now. Faster still.
I’m falling.
The wind hammers harder against me, now almost like a weight of stone against my chest and limbs.
But I try. I think of the folds and imagine the many ways I can avoid falling.
I see countless lenses, and in all of them, I do not fall but am back in the tower. I stand beside Rishi Ibrahm. I am firm. Rooted. And safely in place. I cannot fall. I will not fall.
And I tell myself this lie. Over and over again. I repeat it. I believe it as best I can, but I know the truth of things.
I will die now. But even so, I do not know what else to do, and in equal measure of panic and hope, I cling to the child’s idea and belief in stories. Of Brahm.
I will stop falling now.
I will not die.
Please.
A bright light flared to life before me. My breath caught in my throat and my chest ached from the conflict of pressure inside and outside. The light took shape much like a circular doorway, and within the world inside the ring I saw something.
A curved wall of stone. Flecks of white, almost like large grains of salt. And I saw the robes of the man who’d pushed me from the Crow’s Nest.
I hit the wall of light.
And everything changed.
The scream I hadn’t thought to let out finally left my lungs. I snapped forward, my feet striking firm stone, but my momentum carried me farther. No purchase could be found and I staggered ahead, back toward the drop.
Rishi Ibrahm’s hand thrust out and caught me by my robes.
I came to a standstill. The world spun and my stomach felt like it hadn’t quite forgotten the fall, still set to tumbling and churning that morning’s meal. For a moment, all I could do to steady myself was set my thoughts and gaze on the falling snow. I counted what I could and hoped that mental effort would be enough to keep me from rediscovering the contents of my belly.
“Congratulations, Accepted Ari. You didn’t go splattity-splat in the courtyard!” Rishi Ibrahm slapped a hand on my back that nearly threatened to send me off the edge again. While he didn’t succeed in that, he did manage to bring me closer to retching than I’d been a moment earlier. “Did you believe you were going to die? Did you have an idea of what to do in that moment? No? Mhm. Most people don’t. But did you try? I bet you called on the folds, didn’t you? Good—good.” He spoke faster than the beats of a hummingbird’s wings.
“Stop. Talking. Please, Rishi Ibrahm.” I shut my eyes tight, wishing the world would stop moving for one damnable second. A series of long-drawn-out breaths were what it took to finally steady myself. I opened my eyes to find the Master Binder watching me—expressionless, like he was waiting for my next words or action to judge me.
“You pushed me off a goddamned ledge.” I kept my voice flat and empty of accusation, stating a fact.
He beamed. “I did. And look, by Brahm above, and a little bit of I”—he placed a hand on his chest—“you survived. You didn’t answer my question, though. Did you go into the folds? Did you believe?”
I nodded, but I also didn’t see the point in lying to him about what else I did. “And I hoped—I prayed, though, not to anyone or anything in particular. I just hoped I wouldn’t die.”
“Most people would. And that’s the problem, Ari. The bindings are not for most people. They’re not even for some of the talented. And I will admit, you are talented. But right now, you are not ready.”
I whirled on him, a mistake given how I felt. A pressure built behind my eyes and I wished for it to recede. It didn’t, leaving me to talk through the pain. “Ready based on what? Tossing a student off the Crow’s Nest? You really are cracked, Rishi! What was I supposed to do? Work my own binding to find a way out without ever being taught how?”
He stood there, silent, watching me.
“Maybe that’s why students are locked up in here. Is that it, Master Binder? Are those stuck in the Crow’s Nest your former students, because if so, I can see why they’re in here if you were their teacher! Did you drag them up to rooftops only to tip them over and then tell them they’re not ready because they can’t do something you can?”
That had been the wrong thing to say, and I knew it as soon as the words had left my lips.
Rishi Ibrahm’s mouth moved for the span of a breath before shutting tight. His gaze fell to the ground and grew distant. The clarity of his eyes muddled, and all of their usual brightness followed suit into dimness.
A new silence filled the air between us that not even the mountain winds and snowfall could break.
I should have offered an apology. I should have at least spoken of how that was uncalled for to say, and that I shouldn’t have said it. There were any number of things I could have done and should have, but I hadn’t made those choices. Instead, I’d went after the man’s heart, and there are few things we ought never to do in life.
And one of those is going for the pain buried in a person’s heart.
“I did teach them.” The four words were enough to break the quiet between us, but for all the whispering of them, Master Binder may as well have shouted them and the mountain returned the echo. “And that is why I know the shapes and tolls the bindings can take. And I know the many ways they break people, Ari. All too well.” His voice cracked. “It is better that I teach them, though, than someone else who doesn’t understand this thing. And it is better that some never learn them no matter how much they wish to try.”
Then it all clicked.
“You … don’t want students to learn them, do you? You teach just enough and around the subjects to give people a taste, but never enough for them to get any further.”
Rishi Ibrahm raised a hand and waggled it. “Some of that, yes. And not some of the other.” Which wasn’t a full answer. “Not everyone is cut out for this, and I will do my best to find those people before they hurt themselves.” He fixed me with a knowing look that made me feel more like I was under inspection by Master Mender.
“And you think I’m one of those?” My breathing hadn’t quite steadied yet, but it was closer than before to something I’d consider normal. “Even though I can muster up the folds. Enough to thwart some of your bindings.” Another thing I shouldn’t have said.
Master Binder raised a hand overhead. “Tak.” He motioned to my face. “Roh.”
One of the stones from the ceiling tore free, showering us in particulates and debris. It hurtled toward me with the intent to pulp my face.
I ducked, regretting the sudden motion. My body still clung to the disorientation of the fall. The rock sailed harmlessly over me and off the edge, hopefully to land somewhere that didn’t have a passing student under it.
I looked at Master Binder, wide-eyed. “Are you crazy? What if someone’s down there?”
He shrugged. “I very well could be. And there likely is.” He’d answered both my questions with such nonchalance I didn’t know what to do. “Try again, and this time, Ari, use the folds, hm?”
I didn’t have an idea just how difficult a binding he’d employ. To counter, I’d need to guess at least the right number of folds to use.
“Too much thinking. Not enough doing. To be a binder, you need to just be able to act on faith at times, Ari. Training and faith. Show me. Tak.”
How many do I need? In class, I think I went to ten. It was ten, wasn’t it? Or had it been twelve? I couldn’t remember.
“Roh.” Another section of the roof, nearly as long as me in length, broke free and arced toward me.
As many folds as I could hold then. Twenty. My mind slipped into them. First two, both showing the massive slab of stone passing overhead. Now eight. I didn’t have time to ease into this. I refused to accept any reality other than what I saw. Nothing existed but a world in which I stood firm and the stone did not take my head from me. Ten. Then twelve. My mind ached and I remembered the dizzying fall.
My gut churned again at that thought and I felt the urge to vomit return. Working the folds while still somewhat out of sorts wasn’t easy. If I survived this, I would likely end up hurling my stomach’s contents all over the Master Binder’s robes.
Sixteen.
I will not be harmed. I am immovable. My faith is rooted—firm, unshakable. My Athir is as strong and in place as the very stone of this tower. Like the mountain, I will not fall. I refuse.
Twenty. I managed all the folds I could, convincing myself of one universal truth: The stone would fall past me.
And it did. The piece of ceiling pushed a current of air through my hair as it rushed by overhead, nearly close enough to brush my head. It went over the edge and out of sight.
I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I’d held in my chest. The combined toll on my mind and body brought me to my knees. I sat there, panting as I tried to collect myself. Through it, I managed to eye Master Binder and give him a look that said what I couldn’t bring to voice.
You cannot deter me. You will not. And no matter what you try, I will remain here, and I will pursue the bindings. With or without your blessings. I will learn them. And in time, I will master them.
There are some things you cannot hope to say with words. So looks suffice.
He caught my meaning and nodded. Then his eyes grew to owlish proportions as he ran over to me. “Brahm’s blood! There could be students down there.”
That twist in logic drove what little strength I had out of me. I fell flat on the ground, wondering how someone so unhinged became not only a teacher, but the master of a discipline. We had already postulated that some students walked the grounds.
“Wyr. They are all one and the same. The places are not as I see them, but as I know them to be. They are all one and the same—connected, and now conjoined by my hands and will. They are not two separate ends, but two ends of the same path. I only bring them back together. Ehr!” Rishi Ibrahm motioned far out past me to the tips of the nearby mountains. His other hand pointed to where the ceiling had fallen.
Stone of that size should have made a thunderous sound upon striking the ground. The sort that even we would be able to hear up in the heights of the Crow’s Nest.
