Django Wexler - The Thousand Names

It was considerably less enjoyable now, of course. She rubbed vainly at her eyes and wondered if there was anywhere to get a cup of cold water or, more usefully, a pail of it. Pushing back through the rag curtain into the little room, she found that Bobby had slumped the other way, snoring serenely against one wall, while Feor-

Feor was on her feet. Her eyes were open, but queer, as though she were staring at something far beyond the walls of the tavern. She swept her gaze across Winter but didn’t seem to see her.

“Feor?” Winter whispered, not wanting to wake Bobby. “Is something wrong?”

Feor’s lips worked silently. Winter stepped into the room to take her shoulder, but as soon as the doorway was clear the Khandarai girl bolted, brushing aside Winter’s outstretched arm and dashing through the flapping rag curtain into the hallway. Winter stood for a moment in shock, listening to her retreating footsteps, then spat a curse.

“Bobby!” she shouted. “Bobby, wake up!”

The corporal’s eyes snapped open and she sat up with a yawn. “Sir? Did I-”

“Come on,” Winter snapped. “Feor’s gone. We’ve got to catch up to her before she gets into trouble.”

“Yessir!”

Bobby jumped to her feet, military reflex overcoming hangover fuzziness, and followed Winter down the corridor. Winter heard stirring in the other rooms, and a few angry shouts, but paid them no mind. The common room was dark and empty, with no sign of Feor, and Winter dashed across it and out into the predawn street.

Thankfully, the Khandarai girl had not turned off into one of the many twisting alleys that webbed the lower city. Even this early in the morning, a fair number of people were about, mostly tradesmen and porters making deliveries. Among the increasing bustle, Winter caught sight of Feor moving down the street at a jog, heading farther out into the slums and away from the gate to the inner city.

She’d made it three streets before they caught up to her, forcing their way through the early-morning crowd. Winter grabbed Feor’s good arm and jerked her to a halt, breathing hard. Spikes of pain lanced through her head with every heartbeat, and her throat felt as though it had been rubbed with sandpaper. Brass Balls of the Beast. Whose brilliant idea was this, again?

Feor turned, and after a moment she lost her thousand-yard stare.

“Feor!” Winter said. “Are you all right?”

“She’s here,” Feor said urgently. “Please let me go.”

“Who’s here? Where are you going?”

“ Mother is here. I have to find her.” She looked in the direction she’d been running. “I can feel her.”

“Mother?” Winter fought for breath. “I thought. . you said. .”

“I have to go to her,” Feor said. She looked back at Winter, her eyes full of tears. “Please. You don’t understand.”

“Sir?” Bobby said. “What’s going on?”

Winter looked back at the corporal. Remarkably, she didn’t even seem to be out of breath, much less suffering the aftereffects of a night’s debauchery.

“She thinks she’s found her mother,” Winter said in Vordanai. “Not literally her mother. The high priestess of her order, or something like that. She wants to go to her.”

Feor jerked at Winter’s grip again. Winter bit her lip, indecisive.

“We can’t stay here,” Bobby said.

A quick glance up and down the street confirmed this. The three women were the center of a widening circle of stares, and the cast of the gray-skinned faces was decidedly unfriendly. Winter wasn’t sure if they thought they were seeing two Colonials accost a Khandarai girl, or if a general dislike of foreigners was enough, but either way things seemed to be taking an unhealthy turn.

“We can’t let her wander off on her own,” Winter said. “I’m going with her. You should-”

“I’m coming with you,” Bobby said, and smiled. “Besides, I think we’ll be safer as a group.”

Winter didn’t have the strength to argue, and wasn’t sure she wanted to in any case. She turned back to Feor.

“We’re coming with you,” Winter said. “No arguments.”

Feor blinked, then shook her head. “Mother will-”

“I said no arguments. Come on-we can’t just stand here.”

The Khandarai girl hesitated, then gave a quick nod. She set a fast pace down the street, and Winter and Bobby followed close behind.

“Feor, how far do we have to go?” Winter said.

“Not far,” Feor said. Her brow was furrowed in deep concentration. “She’s moving, I think. And there are others-around this next street-”

She broke off, looking up. Winter followed her gaze. Ahead of them, a faint glow was building over the city. For a moment Winter took it for dawn. Then her slightly befuddled mind reminded her that they were walking basically west , away from the inner city. The light grew brighter as she watched, until she could make out coils of smoke rising into the still-darkened sky.

Fire. Shouts of alarm were beginning to rise all around. Fire was the eternal terror of every citizen of the lower city.

“Sir!”

Winter whipped around in time to see Feor take off again, toward the flames. There was no time to think. Bobby was already pounding after her, and Winter gritted her teeth against the pain in her head and followed.

• • •

For the first few moments they were fighting a sudden tide of people. The beginnings of the blaze brought the lower-city folk out of their buildings like fleeing roaches, carrying their children or bundles of goods. There was no effort to fight the flames, and remarkably little screaming or confusion. This was a moment that these people had expected their whole lives, and they reacted with a silent, deadly determination to escape.

Winter was buffeted from all sides, swept backward a few steps, and torn away from Bobby. She looked about in panic and finally spotted the corporal sheltering in the gap between two wooden buildings. Winter worked her way over, shoving so hard she was practically knocking people over, until she could get out of the main stream of traffic.

“We’ll never find her in this,” Winter shouted in Bobby’s ear. “The roofs, maybe-”

Then she stopped, because the human flood tapered off as quickly as it had begun, leaving the street empty except for a few slower-moving groups or those who’d been knocked down or dazed in the mayhem. Winter got a glimpse of Feor, who had, incredibly, made progress against the tide and was nearly at the end of the street. She pointed, got a nod from Bobby, and started to run again.

No actual flames were visible yet, but the glow was definitely brighter, and Winter could smell woodsmoke. Feor rounded the corner a few yards ahead of them, and Winter nearly collided with two young Khandarai helping an elderly man down the road. She spun out of their way at the last moment, ignoring the vicious looks, and kept after Feor. Bobby was a few steps ahead, but when she came to the corner she suddenly pulled up short, and Winter nearly cannoned into her as well.

The next street was a short one, only twenty or thirty yards before it ended in a T-junction, and judging by the distance they’d run they had to be getting close to the outskirts of the city. The glow was much more intense here, and Winter could see tongues of flame licking up in the brightening sky. None were close, however, and she realized there must be two fires, one to either side of them. Straight ahead, in the direction that led out of the city, the night was still dark.

A dozen men stood in the street. They wore white tunics and grubby white trousers, overlaid with a full-length black hooded cloak that each had tied in a peculiar loop around his waist to leave his arms and legs free. All carried drawn swords, the distinctive heavy-ended falchions of the Desoltai. They were young men, full-bearded, with dark hair and skin a darker shade of gray than the urban Khandarai. One raider had his face concealed behind a blank gray mask, featureless except for a pair of eye holes.