Читать книгу Kingdom of Souls - Rena Barron - Страница 16

Long after leaving the Temple, I struggle to catch my breath. I take a short cut near the sacred Gaer tree on my way to the East Market. The tree stands naked and alone in iridescent dark soil – its black branches, crooked and bare. The magic here is so thick that it’s palpable. I don’t linger, but as I pass, the branches shudder. Outside of the Almighty Temple, it’s the most magical place in Tamar. How powerful had the first Ka-Priest of the Kingdom been to cheat death by taking up roots and becoming a tree?

When I set foot in the East Market, I see Familiars swarming like a nest of agitated wasps. Hundreds slither among the crowd and crawl across every place imaginable. Dogs howl at them, while most people are none the wiser. They draw the heat from the air, and even though it’s midday, a cool draught settles over the market. The sun is behind the clouds – a rare thing in Tamar, which enjoys sunshine on more days than not. Does the sun orisha Re’Mec feel the disturbance too?

On the surface, everything looks normal. People haggle over prices, and merchants outbid each other to attract patrons. Some older children play an upbeat tempo on the bottom of wooden crates, and people drop copper coins in a bowl in front of them. But bad energy hums through the crowd like the charge in the air before lightning strikes. Several fights break out and the City Guard steps in. It hits me at once. All the amulets with the orisha Kiva in the market today – now that the news is out about the children. When I was little, his bulbous face and lopsided eyes scared me. But Kiva protects the innocent. People wear his likeness when disease sweeps through the city, or when crops are poor. It’s a sign of fear.

I spot Rudjek ahead, fending off a street charlatan trying to peddle him charms. The charlatan wears a dozen bone necklaces and another two dozen on each arm. He gapes at Rudjek, his cataract-laden eyes stretched wide. His cheeks are sunken, his skin ashen and weathered – his movements slow and lethargic. People might think he’s drunk, but his face bears the signs of someone who’s been trading years for magic. Not all the charlatans do it, but this man clearly has.

‘You need protection,’ he proclaims, his voice like cracked eggshells. ‘I have a necklace for you. All the way from the tribal lands. Blessed by a great witchdoctor.’

The charlatan’s words stop me cold in the thicket of the crowd before I reach Rudjek. Patrons divide around me, some yelling to get out of their way, but I can’t move. I’ve always thought the charlatans weak. In truth, some have more magic than me even without trading their years. They flood this corner of the market, offering charms, sacks of herbs, and potions promising to deliver your heart’s desire.

I know what it feels like to want magic so bad that it hurts. To watch your parents impose their will on magic with the snap of their fingers, but not be able to touch it yourself.

A bitter taste sours my mouth and I swallow hard. What I can’t understand is why someone would trade their years to make petty charms. If you’re going to do it, do it for a better reason. Do it because you have no other choice.

It isn’t fair to judge the charlatans, but when I look at them, I see my own reflection. I see a yearning to belong. I see my desire to protect myself when the demon comes after me – for it will. I have no doubts about that now. Grandmother’s vision had been a warning for me.

Rudjek frowns. ‘I don’t need trinkets made from chicken bones.’

The charlatan sweeps his arms wide, rattling the bones. ‘Trinkets? These are genuine charms.’

‘Which tribe are they from?’ Rudjek arches one eyebrow at the tiny bones strung together.

‘Tribe Kes,’ the man says with a lazy wave. ‘Only the best bone charms from them.’

Rudjek rubs his chin. ‘Aren’t the Aatiri the bone charmers?’

The man grimaces, his expression so exaggerated that he belongs on a stage. ‘Where did you hear such lies?’

‘He heard such truths from me,’ I say, stepping forward.

Rudjek greets me in the way of the Aatiri, touching his forehead and flourishing a little bow. His cheeks flush and he’s grinning like a fool again. I can’t stop myself from blushing too. I try not to stare into his obsidian eyes or at his lips that look as soft as velvet, or his broad shoulders. Instead, I make the mistake of shifting my attention to the smooth brown skin visible between the slit in his elara. I catch a glimpse of the curve of his throat, his collarbone, and a pang of warmth spreads to my belly. So much for less conspicuous places.

‘She’s the expert on all things tribal.’ Rudjek nods at me, his deep voice rings in my ears.

‘Waiting for someone?’

‘You, of course,’ he utters under his breath.

‘And who are you …’ The charlatan cuts off mid-question when his eyes land on me.

He looks decades older and his hair is whiter since I last saw him at market, months before the blood moon. ‘Many blessings, young priestess.’ He bows, glancing to the ground. He must see my mother in my features. Most people do. The amber eyes, the high set of my cheekbones, the proud nose.

‘I meant no disrespect. May I offer a silver coin to the Temple to show my penance?’

I shift from heel to heel, looking everywhere but the charlatan’s face. He makes a show of digging in his pocket and his hand trembles so much that he almost drops the coin. Some of the other charlatans watch with curiosity. What do they expect me to do? I’m not my mother, nor will I ever be like her.

‘Please don’t curse another one,’ Rudjek begs me. ‘Not after what happened to the last one who crossed you.’

My lips purse in protest, but as much as I cringe in embarrassment, the charlatan looks equally distressed. People always believe Rudjek when he lies about my purported magic, even if I’ve never shown a drop of talent.

Before they realize who I am, strangers don’t give me a second glance. I’m only another person in the market to swindle out of a few copper coins, or a silver one if I’m foolish enough. When they find out who I am – who she is – people look at me with a mix of horror, admiration, and longing. A little envy too. Like the charlatan staring at me right now. It’s the same way I gazed upon the witchdoctors at the Blood Moon Festival, and for a moment I pretend it’s true. I pretend that magic will obey my every whim. And the first thing I’ll make it do is shove a rag in Rudjek’s big mouth.

I glare at him as he pulls me away. A shock of warmth flows between our hands and crawls up my arm. His hand’s much larger than mine, his skin callused from handling shotels in his father’s arena. My heart flaps like a skyward bird. Rudjek looks down at our interlocked fingers and blushes again as he lets go. We’re both doing an awful lot of that lately.

I huff a frustrated breath. ‘I wish people wouldn’t act like I’m her.’

‘Your mother inspires a special kind of terror,’ Rudjek says. ‘She and my father both.’

What Tam said about Fram, the orisha of life and death, comes back to mind. They saw life and death as different sides of the same coin. Our parents could be described that way. Both ruthless in their own right. No wonder they hate each other.

Rudjek touches my arm and warmth pulses between us again. We’ve touched many times before, and this should be no different. Yet I’m not mistaking the spark in his midnight eyes. ‘Everything okay?’

Several people take notice of how we are together and another blush creeps up my neck. It’s hard not to notice him. The Vizier’s son in his fine purple elara with gold-plated shotels at his sides. His mess of black curls. He starts to say something but bites his lip. An awkward moment stretches between us, until finally I nod.

As we wade through the market, I tell Rudjek everything in a rush that leaves me breathless. I talk for a long time, the distraction of weaving through the crowd and having him near making it easier. I wasn’t ready to talk about Grandmother’s vision before, but it’s a relief to finally get it all out. With Rudjek, I can let myself be vulnerable, I can let my guard down. ‘How could any of this be possible?’ I wonder once I’m done. ‘Demons … after all this time?’

He stares at me, stunned. Whatever he’d expected, it isn’t this. Ask a friend what’s wrong, and they’ll say they had an argument with their partner or they have a toothache. Ask me what’s wrong, and I deliver news that a demon’s come to roost in Tamar. It sounds grim even to my ears.

‘What you’re suggesting …’ Rudjek clutches the hilts of his shotels and cranes his neck to peer into alleys. Even Majka and Kira linger closer than usual today. They’re on full alert, eyes sharp, hands on their weapons, too. ‘Demons can’t be back … It would mean …’ He can’t bring himself to finish.

I cross my arms. ‘Why are you so jumpy, then?’

Before Rudjek can answer, a Familiar flits between his feet and slides into a shaded area behind him. Dozens of them crawl up closed doors and walls and merchants’ stalls. They perch like birds on the rafters of an apothecary as two guardsmen push through the crowd. Four fishermen travel in their wake, carrying another man on a stretcher. The man has a whale hook clear through his shoulder, and both Rudjek and I stare at him in shock. There’s so much blood that it overpowers the air. I hold my throat to force the acid back down. The men file into the apothecary and the Familiars follow them. There are always accidents on the docks, but I haven’t seen one this bad in a long time. I remember the story about the former Ka-Priest, how someone impaled him on a hook in the bay.

‘I wish you could see all the Familiars in the market right now.’ I shake my head in disbelief. ‘It’s an omen.’

‘Familiars?’ Rudjek tugs at his tunic. ‘You mean the wayward shadows?’

I wince, not wanting to hear another lecture about what the science scribes say. The scribes want us to forget about the souls that walked the world long before humans. But some didn’t ascend into the afterlife. They’re still here, hiding in plain view. Their presence pricks against my skin like needle points. There’s no time to argue with Rudjek about this again. The trail of blood left in the fisherman’s wake is making me light-headed.

‘I don’t care what your science scribes say,’ I snap.

‘People have been talking about the wayward shadows – the Familiars – since …’ Rudjek’s gaze darts around, and his voice drops to a husky whisper. ‘… since the first child disappeared. My father keeps dismissing the reports as tribal superstition. I … I wish I could see them too.’ His hands fly to the hilts of his shotels at a sudden commotion behind us. When he sees it’s only an overturned cart, he turns to me again, his eyes full of dread. ‘Another child was taken last night. The count is at six now.’

‘Six missing?’ My voice shatters as a young girl slips under a patron’s arm and steals his money pouch. The man is unaware as he peruses a stall of tobachi knives. I seek out all the children in the market, as many of them as there are adults. My heart thunders in my chest. If I had magic I could do something, do anything. Am I supposed to sit around, let this demon take the most vulnerable among us, and then wait my turn? How easy it was, a year ago, to utter a single mention of Arti and stop Kofi’s stepmother from hitting him.

Kofi.

Without warning, I take a sharp turn, shifting our path in the direction of the fish merchants. I have to make sure my friend is okay.

‘The shotani have been combing the city,’ Rudjek says, keeping pace with me. ‘Now that a scholar boy’s missing, the Guild has grown a heart.’

Shotani magic wafts through the crowds even now. It’s heavy and oppressive, like sinking into a tar pit. Compared to them, the guard are little more than a nuisance. ‘Have they found …’ I swallow, unable to say bodies.

‘No.’ Rudjek snags his fingers in his mess of curls. He doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, not even finding comfort resting them on his swords as he usually does. ‘There’ve been no leads at all. It doesn’t seem right. I mean, they’re the shotani, for gods’ sake. Blessed by the orishas themselves.’

‘If Arti can’t see the child snatcher in her visions,’ I shoot back, ‘then the shotani don’t stand a chance.’

Rudjek puts his hands on his hips. ‘Is she really trying?’

As his words sink in, the colour drains from his cheeks. His accusation punches me in the gut. He doesn’t have to say more. It’s written on his face. Our parents hate each other, and either would do almost anything to see the other fall. ‘I don’t know.’ I duck my head. There should be no doubt in my mind that my mother would do the right thing, yet …

‘I’m sorry,’ Rudjek says, glancing away. ‘I shouldn’t have suggested …’

I bite the inside of my lip. ‘Would your father help her if the situation were reversed?’

Pain flashes in Rudjek’s eyes. ‘I don’t think he would.’

We walk on quietly, passing crowds gathering in front of merchant stalls. A vein of pent-up frustration and fear underlies their low whispers. This will get a lot worse if someone doesn’t stop the child snatcher. The city will riot.

I ease out a sigh when we reach the fish merchants, and Rudjek gives me a reassuring smile. Kofi stands on his crate covered in scales. He smells atrocious, but he’s okay. He grins at me and then rolls his eyes at Rudjek. Same old Kofi.

‘How goes business?’ I force brightness in my voice. ‘Selling like hotcakes?’

‘Terra bought seven threadfish this morning.’ Kofi glances at his father, who’s haggling with a patron over the price of shrimp. ‘I gave her an eighth one for free since you’re good customers.’

Rudjek leans close to my ear. ‘Is that little runt flirting with you?’

Kofi crosses his arms and scowls at Rudjek, standing face to face from his vantage point on the crate. ‘You going to buy something or what?’

‘Should I challenge him to a match in the arena?’ Rudjek looks sideways at me. ‘I’ll do it with my eyes covered to make it fair.’

Time to go.

I flip Kofi a silver coin and he catches it mid-air. ‘Stay close to your father and be careful, okay?’

‘I will.’ Kofi looks at his father, who is keeping eyes on him and the two exchange a nod. ‘Promise.’

‘See you later, Kofi.’ I say before dragging Rudjek away.

‘I’ll get him a guard.’ Rudjek pitches his voice low so only I can hear him. ‘I know I can’t do much, but at least I can make sure he’s safe. I wish I could do it for the other children too.’ He scratches the back of his neck. ‘As future Vizier, I should be able to do something useful for once.’

I beam at Rudjek. He’ll be a better Vizier than his father one day. Now that I know Kofi will be okay, my fear eases a little. But then a Familiar slinks across my shoulder, and I stop cold. A tremble shoots down my spine, leaving my skin prickling with ice in the midday heat. More Familiars rush behind me – a horde of them. My breath catches in my throat as I whirl about. A dozen swarm around Kofi, slithering across his face, arms, legs, like a cloak of nightmares.

Their meaning is unmistakable. The child snatcher isn’t finished.

My friend is next.