“I see.” He frowned. Her answer only raised more questions. The Samaritan sect was tiny, a footnote in the Espani holy text about a group of people claiming to have the only true Word of God hidden away on their sacred mountain and lording it over the Judeans, Syrians, Babylonians, and anyone else who claimed to worship the one God by any name, be it El, Adonai, or Ahura Mazda. Whatever their claims, he knew the Samaritans only to be scholars, not warriors. “I’m sure the path that brought you to this place was a hard one.”
“No harder than most.”
“I didn’t mean the road from Persia to Marrakesh.”
“Neither did I.”
Could she be a holy scholar as well as a killer? He swallowed. Why not? Aren’t I?
“You’re a mercenary? An assassin? That seems a hard road. I’ve killed quite a few people myself. Some were in duels. Most were in war,” Lorenzo said. “But I haven’t killed anyone since I returned from the New World. I vowed not to, though I haven’t told anyone of my vow yet. I’ve even faked killing for the sake of my lady. For her peace of mind.”
“You fake it? For a woman?” Shifrah smiled a flash of white teeth in the darkness. “How perverse.”
From the dark streets behind them, a chorus of little children shouted and squealed and laughed. Lorenzo did not look back toward the sound. “She wouldn’t understand. I thought that my vow would free me from so much sin and darkness, but it’s only plagued me with questions and doubts. Like this one here tonight. You.”
“To kill me or not to kill me?”
Lorenzo stopped and stared up at the night sky. “If I kill you, I break my vow. If I give you to the law, they will kill you, and I’ll have just as nearly broken my vow. And if I let you leave, you’ll only kill others and I’d be complicit in those deaths as well.”
“And now you know why I left my people,” she said. “There are no paths to God, if there even is a God. The high and narrow paths only lead to misery.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” He saw no glint of light on steel but he heard the light flutter of cloth and in an instant he had drawn his espada and parried her stiletto thrust. She stumbled half a step and he grabbed her shoulder and shoved her away as he slipped his sword back into its sheathe and let his coat swallow him up once more.
Shifrah straightened up, the knife still in her hand. “Seriously? Are you going to keep me here all night, blathering on about your three-faced god until I give up a life of wealth and murder for some drafty cloister in Espana?”
A wooden clatter at the edge of the platform drew his glance for an instant, but if there was anything out there it was lost in the shadows. The hidalgo looked back at the woman. “That would solve my dilemma, actually.” He sighed. Each time he blinked his eyes closed it was a struggle to open them again. To lie down, to rest his back, to rest his mind, to retreat from the world, even for a few hours. At that moment, sleep became the ultimate temptation. He said, “So you reconciled a merciful God with a merciless world by renouncing your faith?”
“It was never my faith. It was the faith of the people around me. I was just born there. Faith is just the clothes and food of your homeland, not a shining path to the next world, or some eternal truth. It’s just words and candles and old books no one can read.” Her stiletto dangled from her fingertips. “It’s just like that lie about your precious Son of love and mercy.”
“What lie?”
“That he ever existed!” Shifrah rolled her eyes. “The Mother and Father descended the mountain from heaven with the Book already written in their hands, detailing the lives they were about to live. They never had a child. That was all made up long after their return to paradise. And you know why? So the stinking Italians could corner the market on religious truth and set up their precious pope in Rome.”
“Blasphemy.”
“It’s the truth. There is no Son in the original text. I know, I’ve read it!” She looked away and tightened her hand into a fist. She relaxed by small degrees. “You see? This is why I don’t like to talk about religion. So what’s it going to be? Kill me or let me go? If you don’t choose, I will. I’m hungry and tired.”
Lorenzo inhaled slowly. What if I’m already damned? I’ve killed so many. Perhaps there are sins God cannot forgive. And if there are, then my only solace would be in knowing that this woman will never harm another person. He reached for his sword. “This isn’t what I want. But it is the only choice you’ve given me. I’m sorry.”
Shifrah shrugged. “At least you’re not going to bore me to death.” She presented her blade in a formal salute.
He returned the gesture as she broke into a sprint, racing toward him, her soft boots thumping on the planks. Suddenly the patter of her feet was doubled and trebled and Lorenzo knew that they were no longer alone on the platform. A lifetime of training kept his eyes firmly fixed on his opponent, but his belly was knotted with the fear that someone was about to stab him in the back. At the last instant before he would have raised his blade, Lorenzo dove to his right and rolled across his shoulder to the far side of the platform. As he came up to his knees, he saw a silent blur of fur and fangs leap onto the woman in white.
“Atoq! No!”
The saber-toothed cat stood on the woman, crushing her into the platform. He looked at the hidalgo with eyes like shining golden coins. By the light of the streetlamp behind him, Lorenzo saw that the cat’s fangs were still clean. “Here! Atoq, here!” The kirumichi hunter had never obeyed his commands before, but then again, they had never been alone together before and the cat had never shown any interest in the hidalgo, except as a provider of fresh meat and clean water.
The cat glanced down at the woman pinned beneath his paws and roared into her face. And then he padded silently away toward Lorenzo, sat down, and licked his teeth.
The hidalgo exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. Atoq had never given him any reason to fear for his own safety, but in the absence of affection, the man’s natural fear of inhuman eyes and enormous claws ruled his pounding heart. “Good boy.”
The cat blinked.
“Shifrah, it’s two against one now. If you had any chance before, it’s gone now. Please, see reason. Give up your weapons. Surrender to the police. I’ll come with you to see that you’re well treated, and I’ll even testify on your behalf. Perhaps we can negotiate some lesser punishment at your trial. Prison or labor.”
The Samaritan sat up and slowly got to her feet. “That’s just another sort of death sentence,” she said. “I won’t go willingly. I didn’t cross the width of Ifrica just to rot in a cell.”
Lorenzo circled the cat, who continued to lick his chops and gaze intently at the woman. “Well, maybe we can arrange something else. What you said a moment ago. You could come with me back to Espana. There is a nunnery in Madrid where I have a few friends. You could-”
“Give up my life of crime?” She smiled, shaking her head. “You’re a sweet boy. Some day you’ll make a dim- witted whore very happy, I’m sure. Maybe for a whole month, even.”
The hidalgo threw up his hands. “You want to die tonight? I won’t let you leave. I won’t let you kill anyone else. And the moment we draw our blades, I doubt I’ll be able to control Atoq. He’ll tear you to pieces. You’ll still be alive when he starts to feed on your flesh. Is that what you want? Is that really better than a cloister? Or a prison cell?”
A high-pitched scream split the night sky and they all looked north for the source of the cry. Lorenzo swallowed. The sound was not human. “Shifrah?”
The woman was slowly backing down the platform away from the plains and toward the city. A second scream tore at their ears, followed by three short squawks. Sharp claws skittered and scratched at the cobblestones of the street below them, but the creature remained hidden in the shadows. Shifrah had reached the edge of the platform and was descending the steps to the road. Atoq stood and sauntered toward her. Lorenzo followed them, glancing back at the dark street. Where is she? Is she hungry? And if she is, will she listen to my commands? Idiot. Why didn’t I bring meat for them?
Wayra strutted into the light beneath a streetlamp and paused to examine the ground for a moment. She lifted her head and opened her beak to hiss at the light, and then stalked across the street and leapt up onto the platform, her tail feathers spread wide and her neck plumage puffed and rippling in the breeze.
“Wayra! Here! Wayra!” Lorenzo raised his empty hand. The hatun-anka clicked forward, staring at him with her huge black eyes. “Good girl. Good girl.” He lowered his hands as the avian beast came to stand beside him. She smelled of dung and blood. “Good, okay.” Lorenzo turned to see Shifrah standing at the bottom of the steps. She glanced away up the street.
