“Are you all right?” Isyllt asked.
Zhirin’s hands tightened around the cup till she was surprised the clay didn’t shatter. “I’d rather not talk about it,” she said. It came out harsher than she intended, but she didn’t think she could stand either pity or heartless pragmatism at the moment.
The door scraped open and she flinched, slopping water over her hands. Gray light washed the room and she squinted as a woman leaned inside.
“You’re both awake? Jabbor says I’m to look after you. Do you need anything?”
Zhirin clenched her fists so she couldn’t see the blood under her nails. “A bathhouse?”
The woman nodded. “Follow me.”
The Jade Tigers’ compound was a collection of thatch-and-bamboo buildings bounded by thorny canebrake and a rough stone wall. Zhirin didn’t recognize the forest, nor could she remember the twisting paths they’d taken to get here. She couldn’t remember much of anything after her mother-
She buried the thought deep, concentrating on the sway of the Tiger woman’s braids as they walked. The jungle offered her no comfort, and the river was faint and far away. The rain had slackened, but water still dripped from the trees and ran in muddy channels down the sloping ground.
The bathwater was cold but clean, with soap enough to wash away the last of the mud and blood. Zhirin scrubbed her hands raw before she was satisfied. The woman, Suni, found them clothes and ointment for Isyllt’s wounds. Zhirin watched in pity and horror as the necromancer changed her filthy bandages, burns and stitches stark and ugly against white skin. The clarity of her ribs and hip bones made Zhirin regret skipping breakfast.
After they dressed, Suni took them back to the room and found tea and fresher food. Zhirin forced herself to eat rice and jackfruit; wasting away with grief wasn’t something she could afford to do, not until they were truly safe. She wasn’t sure she could even imagine that anymore.
They were free to roam the camp, Suni assured them, but Zhirin was happy enough to stay inside. Isyllt was content with silence; she doubted Jabbor would give her that luxury.
Neither, as it happened, would fate. No more than an hour had passed before voices rose outside and the door opened again.
“A council is gathering,” Suni said. “Jabbor says you’re both to come.”
The rain had returned, drumming on the roof of the long council chamber. Benches and mats lined the edges of the room, and nearly all of them were taken. The gathered spoke in restless mutters, half drowned by the rain. Zhirin braced herself for Jabbor’s pity as she sat beside him, but his face was grim and he only squeezed her hand quickly. Voices rose in anger and curiosity when the Tigers saw them.
“Who are they, Jabbor?” a man called, not quite a challenge.
“Some of you have met the Lady Iskaldur,” he replied. “She offers us aid from Selafai. And more of you know Zhirin Laii, first daughter of Cay Laii.”
She wasn’t first daughter anymore, she realized, but silently thanked Jabbor for the omission. She didn’t think she could recount the story yet.
Jabbor cut off the next question with a raised hand. “This isn’t the time. We have something more important to discuss now. Are we all here?” he asked the guards at the door.
“As many as could be found.”
“Bring her in.”
An expectant hush settled over the crowd. The door opened and Kwan Lhun entered, an armed escort at her back. Her eyes narrowed as she saw the gathering.
“Damn you, Jabbor. Must we make a circus of this?”
“Tell them.”
Whispers rippled through the room and Zhirin leaned forward. Kwan had been close in Jabbor’s confidences for as long as she’d known them, high-ranked amongst the Tigers. To see her under guard was unsettling; her hip was bare where her kris should hang.
Kwan snarled, then shook back her long hair and drew herself straight. “For years now, my cousin Temel and I have been doubling for the Dai Tranh.”
Voices rose and Jabbor shouted them down.
“We believed the Tigers too soft,” she continued, staring at the wall behind Jabbor. “Too willing to compromise and dance with the Khas, too unwilling to take the measures necessary for Sivahra’s freedom.” Her gaze shifted to Jabbor, and Zhirin beside him. “I still believe that.”
Jabbor smiled, though tension tightened his jaw. “I know all about my shortcomings, Kwan. Get to the point.”
Zhirin swallowed, trying not to fidget on the hard bench. She’d always thought that Kwan’s dislike for her was half born of jealousy; her cheeks stung as she realized her own childishness.
“The point,” Kwan said, biting off the words, “is that I no longer stand with the Dai Tranh. The Tigers may be soft, but the Dai Tranh goes too far, and means to go further still.”
She turned to face the room, one hand reaching for her absent sword hilt; she tucked her fingers into her belt instead. “The Dai Tranh found a diamond mine in the forest on the far side of the mountain. The Khas has been harvesting soul-stones for years, using Sivahri prisoners.”
Voices rose again, louder and angrier. Jabbor couldn’t quiet them, but finally Kwan shouted them down.
“That’s right. And that’s the fury you should feel-but Selei Xian has let her rage madden her. She means to sabotage the mountain itself and let its fire destroy the mine and the Kurun Tam. The others won’t gainsay her.”
“What?” Zhirin’s voice carried in the stunned silence, and her cheeks burned. Kwan turned to face her and she rallied her wits, pushing herself to her feet. “Never mind the madness of it-they’d burn their own lands as well- but the mountain is warded.”
Kwan smiled. “Oh, yes. But we-they-have someone inside the Kurun Tam. Did you think you were the only one, little mage? They know about the wards and how to destroy them. The plan is insanity, but I believe they could do it. That’s why I’m here. Lhun lands will burn, and that I cannot allow.”
Zhirin sat, catching Jabbor’s arm to steady herself. The one thing taught above all other lessons at the Kurun Tam was respect for the mountain. Vasilios had shown her text after text from the Assari histories, painstaking illuminations of the volcanoes found in the southern empire and the devastation they caused when they erupted.
The council became an ocean of angry voices, and she used the confusion to explain the conversation to Isyllt. By the time she’d finished, Zhirin couldn’t tell who was yelling what.
“Enough!” Jabbor finally shouted, his voice carrying from floor to rafters. “Whatever the arguments, do we at least agree that burning Sivahra is…ill-considered?” The Tigers nodded, a few snorting at his dry tone. “Kwan, how much time do we have?”
“They’ll move tonight. I imagine they’ll stage a distraction for the Khas first. And there’s more. You’ve heard the rumors of the White Hand? Well, they’re true. The Dai Tranh witches have recruited the unsung dead to fight for them.”
Another silence filled the room and Jabbor spoke before it could erupt. “Then it’s lucky we have a necromancer with us, isn’t it?”
After breakfast, Selei divided the warriors into groups. The Ki Dai, living and dead, would go to the mountain- it would take all their witchcraft to break the wards. The rest would provide distractions to keep the Khas and the Kurun Tam busy.
Riuh frowned as they were separated, but Xinai was glad of the reprieve. Between her cramps and the task ahead of her, the last thing she needed was him lingering at her side, or her mother’s smug and knowing glances.
As the witchless groups began to slip away, a warrior pulled Selei aside for a whispered conversation. A Lhun, Xinai guessed from his nose and broad cheeks. Not many other clans had joined the Dai Tranh-Lhuns and Khans, a scattering of clanless. And her.
As she stared at the broken walls and empty houses of Cay Lin, it was hard to share Selei’s optimism. The thought of babies was foreign, and for all of Riuh’s affection, she had no desire to marry. Not even Adam had made her think of family, and there had been a time when she’d imagined spending the rest of her life with him. Not that a mercenary’s life was often long.
