SEVENTY

The path was so narrow we were forced to ride single file, and its walls were steep and high. I’d never felt so claustrophobic in a natural place before, painfully aware of the fact that we were trapped here, that if I lost my grip on the twilight, Bao and I would be the first targets. With a hundred men behind us, there was no chance of escape.

Bao took the lead, consulting the tattoo on his right arm, matching symbols at every fork of the path.

Every path not taken made my skin tingle, for there could be assassins lurking within them, waiting to fall on our company from the side. It was unlikely, since they could do the most damage obstructing the path before us, but it was possible. And I had to keep my awareness focused on the path ahead. I couldn’t afford to spread myself too thin.

According to Bao, there had been seventeen men in Jagrati’s thrall, and all but two were highly trained killers.

Five had been killed during their escape from the meadow, and Bao had left. The poisoner and the fellow lurking in the Rani’s hidden room were dead.

That left nine men, plus the Falconer himself. When I counted the numbers, it seemed a ridiculous few to inspire such fear… but in the maze, at the forefront of our small army, it didn’t seem foolish at all.

Left, then right, then left, and left again. All the turns made me feel disoriented and dizzy. I shook my head, concentrating. The call of Kamadeva’s diamond grew stronger as we climbed, the rich hues of its dark fire beckoning to Naamah’s gift within me, seeking to beckon me out of the twilight.

Behind us was the clatter of hoofbeats, the jingle and creak of gear and weapons, the sounds of men breathing hard and swearing as they attempted to wrestle a battering ram through the narrow, twisting path.

I wished they would all be quiet.

We had been climbing for over an hour when I sensed the first living presence other than our own on the mountain, at a point where the path ahead of us widened around a sharp bend to the right.

“Bao, hold,” I said softly, and he drew rein, waiting. Glancing behind me, I willed Hasan Dar’s second in command to hear me. “Pradeep, hold and wait.”

He nodded fearfully, and whether it was due to the threat of assassins, or hearing my disembodied voice, I couldn’t say. But he did as we had agreed, signalling silently to the army to wait.

There was no time to hesitate. The killer ahead of us would have heard our company approaching. If Bao and I delayed, he might move to investigate. Firming my grip on the twilight, I joined Bao and we rode around the bend.

The assassin was an archer, and he had chosen his spot well. He had gone to one knee at the far end of a straight, wide stretch of path, and he had an arrow nocked and drawn. There was a tray of sand before him from which the shafts of another score of arrows bristled, points thrust into the sand, ready at hand.

Remembering how quickly the man in the Rani’s chamber had thrown a flurry of knives, I shivered. I didn’t doubt that this fellow was just as quick, just as deadly.

“One of the good ones or bad ones?” I asked Bao.

“Bad,” he murmured. “Do you want me to take him, Moirin?”

I shook my head. “It’s on me, either way.” I nocked an arrow and drew, my hands shaking a little.

I had killed men twice before, but only in the heat of battle. This was murder, plain and simple. Even if the fellow would gladly have done the same to me given the opportunity, it was still murder. He had no idea I was there. His face was calm and silvery in the twilight, utterly focused. It reminded me a bit of the Tatar archer Vachir’s quiet, steady confidence, which made it all the harder.

My diadh-anam was quiet within me, neither warning nor encouraging. The Maghuin Dhonn Herself would give me no guidance in this matter. The choice was mine to make, the risk of losing Her favor mine to take.

This, I thought, was truly an unclean deed that would leave a stain on my soul. But thinking of my lady Amrita raising poor, dead Sameera’s maimed hand to her lips and kissing it, thinking of Ravindra’s grave face as he bade his mother farewell, I knew it was a darkness I was willing to accept.

“Make sure it’s a clean kill,” Bao said quietly, reading the decision on my face. “He’ll start shooting blind if you don’t take him in one.”

I nodded. “Get as close to the wall as you can. He’s likely to loose his bowstring when he’s struck.”

Kneeing our mounts, we plastered ourselves as close to the walls as we could.

Breathing deeply and willing my hands to steadiness, I shot the fellow.

It was quick, so quick! There was the thrumming sound of my bowstring as I loosed it, the thump of the arrow piercing the assassin’s chest indistinguishable from the second twang as his nerveless fingers loosed his own string, the hornet-buzz of an arrow speeding between Bao and me to shatter against the wall of the path.

I lost my grip on the twilight for a heartbeat. The killer’s puzzled eyes met mine; then his gaze went to the feathered haft protruding from his chest. He toppled slowly sideways. And then my diadh-anam pulsed within me and I gasped, reclaiming the twilight.

The archer was dead.

And the Maghuin Dhonn Herself had not forsaken me. It seemed I had guessed rightly, and the stakes were indeed high enough to call for desperate measures.

Bao dismounted and went to confirm that the killer was well and truly dead, then lugged his body as far out of the way as possible. I sat atop my mare Lady, breathing hard and shaking, fighting against a surge of nausea, feeling at once sick at heart and horribly grateful that my diadh-anam yet shone within me.

“It was well done, Moirin,” Bao said when he returned, swinging himself back into the saddle. “A better death than that one deserved.”

I swallowed. “Let’s just keep going.”

We alerted Pradeep and resumed our torturous climb, zigging and zagging our way up the mountain to Kurugiri. Bao consulted his tattoo and scanned the walls for symbols; behind us, Pradeep and the others consulted their maps and did the same, following our invisible progress through the endless labyrinth.

Left, right, right; left. Again and again and again.

I felt the darkness of my deed settle into me, and accepted it. I wondered if the great magician Berlik had felt the same way when he had broken his oath and slain the Cruithne princess and her unborn child to save our people.

The gods use their chosen hard.

It was true.

It was mid-day when I sensed a second living presence in the maze ahead of us, and called softly to Bao, ordering a second halt.

This time, the path was too narrow to admit us both on horseback. Bao and I dismounted, stealing around the corner together on foot. He caught his breath in a hiss at the sight of the man awaiting us.

My throat tightened. “One of the good ones?” I asked unnecessarily. This fellow was young, younger than Bao, with delicate features. His face was filled with transcendent determination, but even I could see that he held the long pike he wielded in a tentative, inexpert grip.

“Uh-huh.” Bao glanced at me. “Sudhakar. I used to try to protect him.”

My diadh-anam flickered. “We can’t just kill him.”

“No.” He sighed. “Let him see us.”

I released the twilight.

The boy yelped with alarm at the sudden sight of us, his eyes stretched wide. I nocked an arrow and trained it on him. He leveled his long pike, swinging the tip back and forth between us in an agony of indecision.

“Sudhakar, it’s me,” Bao said in a soothing tone, his staff tucked under one arm. “You don’t want to fight, do you?”

“Our lady wills it!” His voice trembled.