The First Binding, page 95
A woman in her forties came over to me, offering her hands. When I refused, she placed them on my shoulders anyway and led me to the counter. I thanked her but she waved me off. “You saved our home. It’s no trouble to help you.”
I opened my mouth to protest but she talked over me.
“Ampur is all we have. When the Nagh woke, I thought it would swallow us all, then the land itself. Some stories talk of that. Of its wrath and hunger and spewing a storm from its mouth that can wash away a mountain.”
I had wondered about that, still unsure how the creature had shot a torrent of water, but it hardly had the force to wear down that much stone. My brain still moved at a sluggish pace, so I only realized what she had said far later than I should have. “Wait, you’re from Ampur?”
She gave me a kind and sympathetic look instead of one better suited for my slow-witted idiocy in the moment. “We left when the fires started. At first, I thought of the children’s rhymes. When the chimney smoke goes red as blood.” Her smile faded and she didn’t say the words, but I knew what was on her mind.
The Ashura.
“But when I left our home, little one in hand, I heard it. The Nagh-lokh. It came down the river, mad as a thing could be. I ran that very night with our child. My husband went to the hall to rally the other men to help whoever needed to flee.” Her eyelids twitched and I knew what would come. They watered, then tears streamed down her face. “I haven’t seen him since.”
I didn’t know what to say. I’d survived demons, streets as an urchin—a sparrow—killed my adoptive father—a criminal and abuser. I’d robbed a merchant king and owed him a debt I had no idea how to pay. And I’d killed an old god. None of it prepared me to console a mother and potentially a widow.
I placed a hand on her shoulder much like she had done to me. When she looked up, I spread my arms wide and gave her the only thing I could think of. A hug.
Sometimes, when we think we’ve lost the world, the only thing for it—for us—is the closeness of another person to let us know we’re not alone in our suffering. Pain is hard, but it is infinitely more the burden alone. But loneliness has a cure, and the kindness of a hug can be that salve.
“I don’t know if I’ll find him.”
Every part of me wanted to tell her the truth then. That she probably wouldn’t. But there are times when the truth is not what people need. They need hope. “You will,” I lied. “Ampur is still there. The land, at least. It can be rebuilt. I don’t know what lives you’ll have after this, but…”
She didn’t give me the chance to finish. The woman wrapped me back in the hug, tight enough to cause me worry over my ribs and aching back. She kissed my forehead as if I was still a child in need of swaddling and not a young man taller than her. “You’ve given us our home. That is enough.”
I nodded, finding no more words to speak.
She then introduced me to the others. All runaways from Ampur—survivors with similar tales. News of the fires had spread quickly through the night, and instead of helping, the villagers took to running. Some for fear of the Ashura, most after seeing the Nagh.
I learned the serpent came after the first bell had rung through the village to warn people of the flames. It left them little time to tend to those in trouble, and then they could see only to surviving themselves.
One boy, no older than ten, flagged me down as Pathar left the hall and told everyone we’d be leaving soon as he’d finished feeding his oxen.
“What is it?” I couldn’t manage a smile. All the pain and unease from the drinking plagued me and made me want to snap at anyone who made too much noise.
“You was askin’ ’bout ta fires?” he said. The boy shouldn’t have been able to stand upright, reedy as he was, and in heavy layers to ward off the cold. The bulk of his clothing looked like they weighed nearly as much as he did, maybe more. His hair hung long and lanky, lacking the stark rich whiteness of the other people in the mountains. The locks instead reminded me of snow weathered by road dust, not turning darker per se, but losing its luster.
I nodded.
He pressed his lips tight and one of his cheeks sunk inward as if he’d started chewing on its inside. “Suppose’n I saw’it somethin’? You’n thinkin’ t’would help findin’ out t’what started t’fires?”
I already knew in my heart what had been behind them, no matter what the locals thought, but I inclined my head again. “It would…”
“Rapu.” He dragged the back of a hand against his nose, leaving a thin line of snot against it. Then he rubbed that against the underside of a sleeve, looking around as if worried his mother would catch him in the act. “Name’s Rapu. Where’s am I suppose’n ta find you iffun I have summin?”
I told him of the Ashram and how to send me a letter, ensuring it would reach my hands. When he wondered about the cost, I set him at his ease and told him that if he had anything to tell me, I’d pay whoever brought it to me for the trouble.
Hope in heart that I might finally learn something of the Ashura, and cane in hand, I left the hall, and soon, Pathar led us back on the trip to the Ashram.
To home.
EIGHTY-SEVEN
TRUE FLAME
It took us two days to return to the Ashram rather than the day and a half it should have. We moved at a slower pace to give me more time to heal, and Pathar stopped twice as often as on the way up to trade his tale of my heroism against the serpent with any who’d hear it. We met another tinker along the way and he promised he’d spread word of what happened as well.
Radi played his song from the head of the wagon for all passersby. And while I didn’t hear the reactions, I made out whistling on occasion from those who’d listened, now carrying on the tune.
Laki and her grandmother stayed in the back of the wagon-home, having chosen to visit the Ashram and make a case before the masters for hospitality until they could return to Ampur. They also made sure to feed me as much as possible from the supplies we’d picked up in Volthi. Endless dried meats that left me wondering at times if they had more spice in them than substance. Mercifully, they didn’t give me any more of that bitter tea, choosing instead to make a broth of bone marrow and fat that tasted of salt and heavy butter.
By the time we arrived at the foot of the Ashram’s stairs, most of my pains had dulled enough that I could move fairly well. Though, maybe not so well enough to handle thousands of steps without aid.
Pathar said farewell and thanked me for bringing him a story he’d be able to trade for a long while and make more in coin than anything I’d paid him. Though, he warned me to never again drag him into another mess like that.
I told him I couldn’t make any promises.
We shared a laugh and he left me with a promise of his own: that he’d come back and share any news he picked up along the way which I might want to hear of.
I thanked him, and he left.
Laki, her grandmother, and Radi all helped me up to the Ashram’s courtyard.
I won’t lie and tell you that by the end my legs didn’t burn. My knees felt like they’d been ground to fine powder and I knew I’d need another few days of bed rest if possible.
Radi left me to stand with the aid of my cane while he flagged down one of the passing Ashram monks, instructing him to bring Laki and her grandmother before the masters.
The monk bowed his head, hands clasped, and led the women away.
“Think you’ll be able to make it to your room?” Radi nudged my elbows, and while it didn’t hurt as much as it would have days ago, I stared at him like a cat who’d just had its tail pulled. He raised both his hands, palms out, to stay me. “Sorry-sorry.” His lopsided smile told me that wasn’t wholly true, but I let it go.
“I’ll manage. It’s not so many stairs to my room as the climb up here. Besides, if I need help, I can ask Aram.” Realization came thundering into me. “Brahm’s breath and blood … Aram!”
Radi’s eyes widened and he looked around as if expecting trouble. “What? What about her?”
In my haste to leave the Ashram and chase after the Ashura, I’d foisted the stray kitten I’d found on her. I’d forgotten, and Radi had as well. I told him what I remembered and he, lacking any sympathy for our friend, doubled over and burst into a laughter that echoed through the main courtyard.
I twisted just enough to spare my body from a sharp twinge and snapped out with my staff, bringing most of its length across Radi’s rear.
“Brahm’s blood, Ari. Give a man warning before you touch wood like that to his ass.” He rubbed the spot.
I gave him a level look and he returned it with the same uneven grin as before, letting me know he knew exactly what he’d said. “It’s a wonder no woman will spend time with you for long, Radi. Truly. A great mystery. I can’t fathom why.…” I stumbled as his hand crashed into my shoulder, not with enough force to topple me, but even so, my weakness led me to falter.
He reached out and caught me, keeping me from going full into the snow. “Says the man who couldn’t see what was right in front of him with Estra.” Radi shook his head in a mixture of regret and disbelief. “He can bring down a mountain and slay a serpent out of stories, but bring the girl back for more than a meal. Honestly, Ari.” He rubbed his face and walked off, giving me one last grin. “If I see Aram I’ll send her your way, ji-ah?”
I nodded and thanked him, making my own way toward the tower my room was in.
By the last stair, I’d developed a dozen new curses for whoever decided to put student lodging in a place so high up, and then decided that, no, twelve wasn’t nearly enough. So I came up with another ten by the time I fell into bed.
Nothing had changed while I’d been gone and it brought me a sense of comforting familiarity. Strings still rested over my desk and across the floor along with my notes on how to make them unbreakable. And after riding with Pathar, I now had an idea. Though, a bit more rest called to me first.
A knock at my door kept me from indulging in that.
I grumbled and bit off another curse. When I made my way over to see who’d come, I found Aram standing there with a thick bundle of blankets in her arms.
Her eyes were ringed with shadow and her color had waned. She pushed the bundle toward me. “Brahm’s blood, Ari. You know how long you’ve been gone?” Her voice lacked the energy I thought it would have. She sounded like she’d missed a few good nights of sleep.
I did the math and tried to count the number in my head. I failed and had to guess instead. “Nearly a set?”
She groused under her breath. “Yeah, nearly a set. And you left me this little monstrosity.”
I looked down at the bundle to see the kitten I’d rescued resting soundlessly. “Looks like he’s no trouble at all.”
Aram gave me a hard look that made it clear that had not been the case. “You’d think the little devil would be happy to be saved and fed and kept warm. No. He’s torn through two of my good shirts, Ari. Two. One wasn’t enough, I suppose. I’ve been bringing him extra rations from Clanks whenever I can. He’s been eating twice his weight from what I gather. Oh, he also has no concept of personal space, keeping quiet … even in the night, and worst of all, how to defecate like a civilized person!”
I gave the cat another look, then my friend. “I think that last one might have to do with the fact he’s not a civilized person.”
Aram made a choking sound and pushed the bundle into my arms. “I’m glad you’re back and safe, which means now you can care for this thing. Might want to remember animals are prohibited by the Ashram’s laws. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She stifled a yawn and her eyelids fluttered. “By the way, what do you plan to do with it?”
The kitten still slept, unaware of our discussing his fate. As I watched him, I thought back to when and where I’d found him.
Alone. Half-starved and just as much frozen in the cold. All at the mercy of whatever cruelty Nitham and his friends would have taken out on him.
I know what it is to be orphaned, alone and confused on unfamiliar streets that I may have been born to, lived beneath, but which were never mine. Which were never a home. No. It was more like being surrounded by a place rather than ever being a part of it. Than feeling safe there.
There is a different kind of loneliness in that. In being in a place that is all you’ve ever known, but which still is not yours, and where you are not wholly welcome as well. You are only ever tolerated at best. This kitten had lived and learned a similar thing.
I had a home now, in a way, at the Ashram.
It seemed the least I could do was give another orphan the same.
A sparrow looking after a cat, it was all I could do not to break out in laughter.
Aram watched us, waiting for an answer.
“I think I’ll keep him. At least for now.” I knew the Ashram’s laws and what could happen if I were caught. I’d stirred up more than enough trouble to be cut any more leniency. “Don’t tell anyone?”
She snorted and gave me a look that said I should have known better. “You know I won’t. Just … maybe get a bucket or a tray for the thing. I’m not sure how you’re supposed to take care of one of those. My father has dogs. They’re sensible and can be trained.”
I smiled. “I’m not sure either, but I’ll keep that in mind.” I wished my friend a good night and a nice sleep before heading back to my own bed to set the kitten down.
The blankets unraveled easily, and I rearranged them to form a cushion below the cat’s body so he could rest in better comfort beside me. As I looked at him, I noticed I hadn’t taken in his true color.
Or maybe it had to do with nearly a set of good food, a warm safe climate, and rest that had brought out a healthier look to his fur. But it was red, red as true flame.
His eyes opened and he stared at me unblinking as I watched him. They were the color of emeralds over sage. As much bright strong green in them as the softer faded tones. As our stare continued, they looked to lour and take on more the gray of storm clouds and ash.
He mewled once and shifted, almost inching away from me before coming back.
Shy little thing. While his long hair curled and waved much like tendrils of fire, he didn’t seem to have much of that in his heart. A skittish little boy.
I knew of that too. A younger Ari had been much like him.
I smiled and thought of a name. Shola. The shy one. It wasn’t a Brahmthi name, coming from Zibrathi. I’d picked up a smattering of the language back in Keshum and heard the word uttered once.
Shola reached out and touched the tip of his nose to one of my fingers before falling and smacking his head against my hand in what could have been a headbutt.
I didn’t know if I should laugh or be concerned. A bit of both felt best. I scratched him just behind the ears before swaddling him again. “Rest here. I’ll be back with some things.”
If Aram had spent that much effort in caring for the kitten, then I figured her advice well worth considering.
So I headed out to grab some food, and stop by the Holds to see if I could find any spare materials to make Shola’s life easier.
* * *
I returned from Clanks with a tray laden down with sweet yams, saffron rice, a bowl of buttered goat stew, and a spinach mash with cubed soft cheese inside. Shola needed no instruction, fighting me for any piece of meat he could get. Never mind that I’d given him a fair portion of food in one corner of the tray.
“No.” I swatted his hand away with a soft touch.
He persisted.
“No.”
He didn’t seem to get the message.
“Shola. No means … well, no. Do not. Stop.” I picked him up with one hand and set him back to his corner of the tray, making it harder for him to come after my portion.
The adjustment did little to dissuade him.
“Brahm’s tits, cat, I need just as much food as you do. Maybe more.”
He didn’t think so, apparently.
I relented and gave him one of the pieces of goat I was about to put into my mouth.
Satisfied, he took my charity as meaning I would be more than happy to give him more.
I was not.
I glowered at the kitten but decided maybe one more would get him to leave me alone.
For a while, it did.
He then developed a sudden interest in my spinach and cheese, something he just as quickly lost all taste for after a mild lick, deigning it well beneath his refined palate.
I grew up in the theater, and I have never met a more finicky and dramatic being.
Content that he’d eaten his fill, and some of mine, Shola came over to run his head into my thigh before deciding that it was the perfect place to sleep.
I let him rest for a short while, before fetching what I’d brought up from Holds. One deep tin tray that I could layer blankets in to give Shola something close to a proper bed. Two bowls of the same metal I could fill with food and water. I had wondered what to do about Shola’s need to relieve himself, but he answered the question before I could give it further thought.
He bounded to the window, batting at the glass in frustration.
I frowned but opened it only to have him leap onto the roof and scurry away from me. He moved to a ledge farther than I could have hoped to climb to if I had set out after him, turned, and proceeded to … give a demonstration of why I might not need to worry about his bathroom habits.
Thankfully, window frames in the Ashram, as well as any seams that could let in or out air, had all been inscribed with minor bindings to improve their ability to retain room temperatures. Though, they couldn’t do much if you were forced to open the damn things.
So I was left with the conundrum of how to make it so Shola could come and go as he pleased. Being from the streets, he must have had no issue wandering on his own, and likely just needed the opportunity to do so.
Content with his work, he set out to bury his leavings under a mound of snow that had accumulated on the rooftops and sauntered back to me. I took him with both arms and brought him back to his new bed.
