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The City of the Hand ([personal profile] cityofthehand) wrote2012-05-07 11:29 am

Chapter Nine



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Chapter Nine


As they walked along to the Fourth Round, the outer edge of the Capitol Complex, Maira learned two things.

First that Kei-zi had a riotously funny, sarcastic and occasionally bawdy sense of humor and an impeccable memory for numbers, faces, and names. He said he’d once been part of a con gang that scammed gambling houses before the Red Hand snatched him up and made something more of him. He gave her a demonstration along the way, reciting over thirty numbers without stumbling after glancing at a piece of paper just once.

Yena was, of course, Yena.

Along the road to the Fourth Round, Yena had also shown off. Her partner noted that it couldn’t be helped. She did have a little bit of cockiness to go with that amazing mind of hers. She could infer things about people from single glances. She knew at a look who had just lost a spouse, how many children they had, what they did to earn a living, if they’d been sick. Maira struggled to mentally keep up. Each new puzzle required finding the tiniest details and teasing out what had to happen to make such a thing possible.

Even Kei-zi couldn’t keep pace. Maira felt relieved for that. It meant she herself wasn’t slow, but rather that Yena was simply that ingenious and impeccably educated. That she came from wealth was no great deduction. Maira guessed that immediately. Yena filled in the rest. She was the daughter of a top Pahali ambassador who’d fought in the last Sky War and came from an old, moneyed Pahali clan. Thus, Yena had grown up with the best of everything.

When they left her at the safehouse, Yena gave Maira a bright orange card with calligraphy on the back with instructions to seek her mother’s estate in the Pahali Tract in an emergency. Yena told her the card had the ambassador’s name - Enaqi Jenda Walksbetween - and a note to give Maira passage.

This taught Maira the second thing: that Yena’s beauty was the kind that, regardless of what her face and body looked like, would have been apparent to all on lookers.

In better times, Maira would have stayed with them and talked all day. Once they departed, the safehouse turned lonely and somewhat creepy despite it’s luxuriousness. The house - an actual house - had furnishings worthy of Motswa’s own home. Best of all, it obviously had been kept scrubbed and clean. It even smelled good, like a bit of washing soap and acidic fruits. The house had not one but two wash rooms. The pump sinks had hot and cold water pumps, the latest in luxury since the Asna’isi and Tsaqa made it a fashion. The largest washroom contained copper pipes to take water in and out and a huge basin bath tub large enough to lay in.

Maira eyed it with gleeful longing and promised herself a good, long, cleansing soak when she returned. Perhaps all this horror was beginning to have an upside after all.

The kitchen, impressive in it’s own right with a tiled floor and neat shelves and pump sink - came with a fully stocked pantry. Maira had never in her life had as much food in her home at any one time as the pantry did. It looked like it’s own market shop. Bags of rice and grains in dry storage jars in the cool corners and shelves above lined with jars of herbs, spices, teas, and dried strips as well as pickled delights floating in bright colored vinegars or sweet syrups. Baskets of fruit met her at eye level. One basket held yellowish, round fruits she’d never seen before. Another bananas and ripe mangoes with bright red skins. Her mouth watered. Fresh bananas and mangoes. The wealth of it all!

She grabbed one of the strange fruits to ask Naran about and shoved it in her pocket. She smiled and thought that if he were very nice to her, she would share - assuming the thing was edible.

The kitchen pantry was fully stocked with more food than Maira had ever seen in one place outside a market shop: bags of rice, grains, tea, herbs, spices, fruits fresh and dried. A basket of yellowish, round fruits she’d never seen before rested on the table. She grabbed one and put it in her pocket before she left. She’d ask Naran about it. If he was very nice, she’d share it.

She left quietly, checking over her shoulder reguarly but not enough to make her nervousness obvious. She spotted no tails or watchers to her surprise. She expected Yena and Kei-zi to have her followed. Nevertheless, she stayed alert and wary. Even if they didn’t follow her, she remained a target. To avoid trouble, she took the underground tunnels that laced their way beneath the city streets. Following someone in a straight tunnel was an infinitely more difficult prospect than doing so on a crowded street on a market day.

She made her way, alone, down the cool, damp passageway. The only light came from above, streaming through the grates when the tunnel passed under the reinforced, paved streets. The place smelled of staleness, packed down cooled earth and some of the sewage that backed up into the easterly paths, coming from the Katte district.

Fortunately, she didn’t have to go east but northwest.

She emerged through an entrance in the wall dividing a Linget commune neighborhood from the outside avenue and the open air market there. The commune did well for itself, judging by the goods on offer. The tables, carts, and stands held silks, leathers, porcelain dainties, jewelry, silver, and mixed steel blades. None of the traders looked nervous or had armed, obvious watchers standing by. As always, wealth bought serious peace of mind.

After a while, Maira realized she stood out to the patrolling marketwatchers. They grew suspicious and followed her. Between her wounds and her simple clothes, she did fit in with the well-to-do Tsaqa Rok and Masara there. The only thing that saved her from being outright snatched off the street was her messenger’s shirt. Of course, she wasn’t from a local service and she wasn’t moving quickly, which gave them another reason to suspect her.

Maira gave the two tall, uniformed marketwatchers a nod of acknowledgment and started walking faster, but not too quickly. She shoved her hands in her pockets, squeezing the fruit lightly. Her hands were better. The motion caused only a little stinging and throbbing, nothing unbearable. In a few days, she might be back to normal. Tbale knew his work.

While she walked, she debated telling Naran about the device. She’d seen into his soul and knew him to be a good man and an even better sorcerer. He’d be useful when it came time to get rid of this damn thing. And yet, the professor had not told her to go to Naran or seek help. He said to tell no one.

Perhaps he had good reason not to bring Naran into this.

Still undecided, she huffed as she walked up the broad hill to the Naroja Fort park’s gated entrance. The market inside wound down. Crowds thinned out and some venders had already packed up their things. She passed emptied stands and mules or horses being hitched up as she went further in. Maira looked around the area for him, more eager than she expected to be. She grinned, thinking about the fruit in her pocket and his possible reaction. It would be interesting to know what it was. Maybe he wouldn’t know either, or at least he wouldn’t laugh too much when she asked. Most hopefully, he’d tell her they were edible and good to eat, because there were a lot at the safehouse.

She found him reclined on the steps of the path to the public bath house, a lovely picture of a man made of long limbs sprawled with careless grace and a smirk on his foxy face that told of infinite mischief. Their eyes met and he waved her over. She took up a seat on the step above him, hand still in her pocket on the fruit now warmed by her body heat.

“You seem to be doing much better,” he said and looked up. “How are your hands?”

She held up her free hand, bandage a bit dingier for wear, and wiggled her fingers. “Healing. I can hold things again. And I’m living in a mansion a while,” she told him, conversationally. He lifted his black brows in surprise. “The Red Hand soldiers came by after people broke into my apartment today.”

Naran sat up straight, no longer smiling. “Are you all right?”

“I saw them before they saw me. Yena and Kei-zi said I could stay in their safehouse until people weren’t trying to murder me anymore. I think it’s going to be a while. There were seven of them. They wrecked everything.”

“I’m glad you’re safe. I should have told you where to find me in case of an emergency. Sorry, I didn’t think.”

“It’s all right. Like I said, now I’m staying in a mansion. You wouldn’t believe this place. It’s enormous. It’s got its own hot water bath and everything.”

The smile he gave her was rather gentle, and his eyes didn’t meet hers. He looked down at the steps, fidgeting with a long cream-colored feather on the ground. It looked big enough to come from an Asna’isi or an eagle. She wondered which it was. “Have you thought anymore about going to Lord Shadow?”

Oh, that. She let out a breath. In all the choas the entire matter had slipped her mind. She broke their gaze and looked away into the closing market, lazily gliding her eyes over the scene to spot anything worth spotting. “I don’t know. What would he even want with me? Maybe he’s confused me with someone else.”

“Niether Lord Shadow nor Andaric would make that mistake. If he meant to take you there, then he had no doubt in his mind.”

“But why?”

“I wish I knew. I’ll go with you, stay with you the entire time. You don’t have to be afraid.”

Maira let out a laugh. “He’s a Tract lord. Everyone has to be afraid of him.”

“Why don’t we talk about this somewhere that’s not next to a public bath? There’s some quieter places behind the building, by the fountain. Less ears to hear us.”

Good idea. Maira probably should have thought of it sooner herself. Naran rose quickly and reached down, taking her forearms to help her up. The warmth of his touch and strength in his long fingered, elegant hands gave her a moment’s pause. He held on a moment longer than necessary and did not turn his eyes away when she stood. She didn’t, either, until she realized she was staring. This Naran was so unlike the one she’d met that night. She brushed off her pants with the back of her hands and gave a shaky smile.

Side by side, they walked up the stairs and around the length of the bath house. Inside, children shrieked, water splashed, adult voices conversing made a mumbling thunder in contrast, all coming out with the stream through the high windows.

“I want you to know Andaric would never hand you over to be harmed,” Naran said. He walked with his hands clasped behind his back, looking ahead. “He would only take you to Lord Shadow if he could guarantee your safety.”

“Maybe, but how well did he know Lord Shadow? He could have been lied to or tricked,” she said and quickly added, “Not to insult him. It’s just, a Tract lord can do whatever they want. They’re probably good at lying. That’s how they get to be Tract lords.”

He said nothing in response as they turned the corner. Maira tore her eyes from him and looked ahead to see how crowded the area was. She stopped short with a gasp.

In front of them, five armed and armored Asna’isi waited. Their breast plates and blade hilts bore Lord Shadow’s own mark. She swallowed with a dry mouth and even drier throat.

One of the Asna’isi stepped forward. This one had a lean, sleek build and neck-length black hair held back in a white ribbon. Their sharp eyes and strong, jutting cheekbones gave them a powerful look. Owlish wings extended as they continued approaching at a decidedly cautious pace. “Hello. I am called Graymere, I take the masculine. Do not be afraid.”

“Naran, we have to run, we have to go,” she said, trembling and reaching behind her to push Naran to running.

He grabbed her arm and anchored her in place. “Maira, stay calm. It’s going to be all right.”

She turned, confused, her mouth gaping and her eyes wide. “Naran?”

“I talked to Lord Shadow. He gave me his oath he will never harm you. I can hold him to it,” he said and pulled her to him. She jerked away, twisting her arm from his grasp. The Asna’isi stared openly, their faces betraying only cold, unfeeling expressions. Same as their prefect counter parts. Those scary pale eyes promised even less compassion than she’d gotten before. They would not merely threaten this time.

“I swear in my lord’s name, we will never harm you. Come with us now, everything will be well,” Graymere said, in soft cadences of accented High Domainish, extending his hand palm up to her. “You are already in grave danger. We will protect you.”

Maira’s side uddenly throbbed with a phantom pain from the healed wound. Her throat clogged. Terrified, betrayed tears stung her eyes. How had she been so wrong after she looked into Naran’s soul? He’d betrayed her. She didn’t believe it was real for a moment.

“Don’t be upset, don’t cry,” Naran said softly, right in her ear. “No one will hurt you. Just go with us.”

“Mr. al-Shahd is correct. Lord Shadow means no harm to you. I have been commanded to see you safe and untouched above all else. Above my life. You need not fear us,” Graymere said.

“You did this,” she whispered. She blinked hard to clear the tears clouding her sight. “No.” She pushed back her stunned feelings. No Tract lord sent five armed people for anything harmless. Lord Shadow had dark purposes. He could not be allowed to take her alive while she had the device.

Naran and Graymere both tried far too hard to get her trust. That, above all else, convinced her a trap waited. This was the honey, the blade would come next.

Graymere was just like the prefects. He would do as he pleased and she would be nothing more than dirt as his feet. He would take what he wanted and behold her pain with utter indifference.

Maira stayed still, and for one moment memorized the area. The Asna’isi had speed far superior to a human but in the air. On the ground, her chances improved. Low, bushy tops of trees would give her good cover and slow them. They’d either have to chase on foot or fly with the canopy between them.

That left Naran. She had to stun him before he used a talisman to stun her. If she outran him and made it to the tunnels, her odds improved greatly. There she had the advantage. The Asna’isi would become clumsy in the narrow passage ways and Naran didn’t know them the way she did.

Maira curled her hand around the fruit still in her pocket. She kept her gaze straight to give no indication she wasn’t still frozen in shock. Even an extra step could make all the difference between capture and escape.

She took a breath, then yanked the yellow fruit from her pocket and hurled it at Naran’s face, between his eyes. It exploded in a spray of juice and pulp. He let go instantly and cried out. Maira whirled around and darted toward the tree. The Asna’isi shouted. Wings fluttered, air wooshed behind her and she dared not look back.

“Maira - no, please! Gods - Maira, stop!” Naran called to her, spitting in between words.

“We will not harm you!” Graymere shouted from above. Maira pushed herself to run faster, weaving and zig-zagging between trees and then the stalls of vendors to frustrate her pursuers.

Racing through the park gate, the Asna’isi stayed close and high above her head.

The ground opened up outside the park, so she darted to the most crowded area in view. The last afternoon bustle offered protection even if it slowed her. Surrounded by bodies, she’d be harder to grab. Maira shoved past people without hesitation or apology, headed for the thick of it all. She searche frantically for better shelter. Across the street a row of shade trees stood over a walk way.

Maira dashed into the road. Suddenly a horse screamed, high and panicked. She turned and the animals wide eyes showed themselves before it reared and something huge hit her broadside.

“Maira!” Naran screamed, so loud his voice cracked. She rolled end over end in the street, thrown by the force of the blow. The world moved so slow, she waited impatiently until she could catch herself and rise to her feet again. She rolled once and the momentum got her standing in an instant.

Graymere shouted sharply, crisply in Asna, his voice carrying over the commotion around her. She raced to the shade trees, zigging and zagging amongst bewildered people. She mounted the wood walkway and ran over it. People got out of her way. Less protect, but the open path revealed the nearby tunnel entrance. Her boots made thudding, hollow drum beats on the worn old wood, beats as quick as her pounding heart.

She dared to check above and behind her. Most of the walkway remained between her and Naran. Trees still hampered the Asna’isi, as did the people who stood on either side, creating something of a human wall to shield her.

Then the walkway ended in a stretch of open road too sparsely populated to be useful.

Maira jumped the steps at the end of the walkway, springing into a flat out run the moment her feet touched ground. The air rushed hard as she raced. One of the Asna’isi shouted in broken Domainish, “Person stopping! Person stopping!”

The Asna’isi agent closed in and road dust billowed up around her, disturbed by the powerful beating of wings, and clouded her vision. She did not see the pair of strong arms that wrapped around her body. With a sharp, hard tug her feet left the ground and the agent pulled her up higher and higher. She kicked wildly as they ascended, squealing and screaming. She reached behind her and caught glossy red and yellow feathers and the flesh of the wing in her grasp. Brutally and fueled by terror, she yanked hard. The wing popped and feathers came loose in her hand. The agent screamed, deafening her and woobled in the air, then twisted nauseatingly and rolled, wings down, as they fell to the ground.

Maira faced upward at the blue sky, screeching terror along with everyone else. All the world screamed.

Then they hit ground. Hard. Even with the protection, the impact sent pain through her like a lightning bolt, especialyl in her left arm. Her vision went solid gray for many long moments though she still flailed. The Asna’isi agent held her tight. She jammed the heel of her boot into their leg with all her strength and with a roar, the arms let go. She scrambled to her feet. Other hands grabbed for her from above. She swung her arms wildly to fend them off.

The tunnel entrance stood before her, so close she already tasted the cold, stayle, dirty air on her tongue. Something dripped in her face, stinging her eye. She wiped her face and it came away bright red.

Naran called out behind her, “She’s headed for the tunnels!”

Still betraying her, even now. Maira gritted her teeth, furious despite the terror. The rage steadied her, gave her strength. She was not going to be caught, not going to give that lying, deceiving son of a shit-eater the satisfaction. She closed in on the dark entrance as the air behind her popped hard with wing beats. Another one, close as the last. Each flap boomed in her ears. She dared not even think about it, focusing only on the tunnel.

“Stop! No!”

She knew the voice. Graymere. Nearly on top of her with the tunnel just a few arm lengths away.