Was she so well known? Lapis did not think so, but the Minq guards at the toll gate glanced at her, the two sacks she carried across her back, studied Tuft, and waved them into the tunnel without asking for reimbursement. Good, because she did not have bits on her for a toll, and despite Patch’s confidence, she did not think they would accept her word that her partner would slip them the fee next time. Well, if needed, Faelan could dump a few into Shara’s palm as compensation.
She wanted to travel to the Grey Streets in a lit tunnel, for the mines had brought back her unease in the dark, and the worst scenarios raced through her thoughts when she pondered which shadowy back streets to take. Sticking to Minq-guarded corridors ensured that she would not face a nasty shank intent on taking what they rightfully stole from Diros.
Tuft’s head swiveled back and forth as he took in the string of yellow fruit oil lamps illuminating thick black tubes and broken metal pipes, the dinged walls of busted tile, and the cracked concrete walkways to the side of a dirt track. Once they left the Minq far, far behind, his attention turned to her. “What do you know of the Jils?”
“Not as much as I should,” she said. “They were the natives of Jilvayna before Taangis invaded Theyndora. Taangis didn’t like the western tribes because they put up a fight despite their inferior technology, and they did their best to subjugate those they captured. They forced them to give up their worship of Omerdewrane in favor of the Seven Gods and the Stars, and did away with most cultural ceremonies and holidays. They really hated the rites that tied the youth to their kin and kith through blood oaths, and my uncle thinks that became the prompt for the empire to break apart communities despite the expense.”
“The forced migrations. Maphezet Kez spoke in awe of them.”
“Yeah. The Taangins split habitations into twelve quarters, then relocated all but one to a different location. Shattering families and friends destroyed close bonds, and sticking enemies side by side in a foreign town or village kept everyone so distrustful, they spent their time staying ‘safe’ rather than battling the empire. It worked too well.”
“What else did your uncle say?”
“Not much. I was young enough he didn’t feel comfortable telling me the really horrendous stories.”
“You did not ask when you became older?”
She bit her lower lip, shook her head, the darkest despair creeping in and nipping her emotions. He trotted too near the devastating wound. “We were separated so I couldn’t.”
He cocked his head. “This separation. It hurt you.”
“It did.”
“It still hurts you.”
“It does.”
“This pain is unknown to me. I may have led, but I had no friends or family to leave behind at the Shivers. Even when I walked among the khentauree, I remained apart.”
How sad. “I’m sorry.”
“Vision said it would be so, many centuries ago. She said it would weigh upon me, but I could not let it crush me. My salvation would arrive unexpectedly and I needed to grasp the chance provided, for another would not present itself for centuries more.”
Lapis had not thought he trusted Vision, but perhaps the khentauree gossip misled her. “Do you believe Vision sees the future?”
“No. I believe she is good at guessing desires and playing with them.”
She smiled. “You sound like Chiddle.”
“He is wise, not to trust her Sight.” He swiveled his head to her. “But her guesses are rarely wrong. She said Luveth would subjugate the khentauree and Dedi and Dreamer would support her, to the detriment of all. She told me Luthier would vacate the Cloister and eventually lead the Shivers when I took my opportunity. Her words rested sour in my mind, for I saw no way for them to materialize. Yet here I am, in another land, for all I still stride in a dark and dank underground.”
Morose laughter welled. “I’ll take you to the Lells. It’s bright and busy. I can introduce you to Maydie and Movique. They’re sweet, but you’ll probably wish you’d stayed at the Shivers once they’re done asking questions.”
“You know Jiy well?”
“When you’re a chaser, you must. You don’t want to get jumped by a stake because you didn’t realize you’d run into a back alley. I know the west side of the river better than the east, though, because most of the shanks I chase live in the Grey or Stone Streets.”
“Why is that?”
“Why is what?”
“Why do you limit yourself to the Grey or Stone Streets to chase shanks?”
“It’s not that I limit myself, it’s that I take the less lucrative stakes, placed by people who can’t afford a large payout to see justice done. These people, and the shanks who targeted them, reside in the Grey or Stone Streets. And my chases aren’t confined to Jiy; there are a lot of farms and small settlements in the outskirts, so shanks will escape the city and find barns and abandoned shacks to hide in for a day or so. Sometimes I have to widen my search. I’ve been to most of the larger towns and cities in Jilvayna, though I know Coriy the best of those.”
“Coriy?”
“It’s the second-largest city in the country. My family’s from the area, and Patch taught me the art of chasing in its streets.”
“Do you miss it?”
“No.”
He swiveled his head to stare straight ahead, and the silence between them, broken only by their crunchy steps and random tunnel noise, made her anxious. What had she sounded like, that he hesitated to talk to her?
“Is it because you were separated from your uncle?”
She blinked the burst of tears away. “No, I . . . I mean yes . . .” She gathered her sorrow and punched it far down, hoping numbness replaced it. “The king of Jilvayna likes to destroy families if he thinks they’re associated with the rebellion. He sent soldiers to my parents’ estate when I was twelve, and they killed everyone there. My best friend, my little brother and I were out picking berries, and we didn’t know what had happened at the manor. The rebel traitor found us as we were walking home. He beheaded my little brother, a soldier killed my friend, and another attacked me. Sliced my arm up.” She lifted her appendage, even though a thick coat blocked the scars from sight. “A scared horse almost ran him over, and I took advantage of the distraction and ran. They lost me in the forest.
“I went back to Nicodem. They’d burned everything to the ground, put coffins in the ashes, and displayed my family inside them as a warning to neighbors. Faelan and Uncle Rodas survived because they weren’t there, and I thought my brother would show up and save me once he heard what happened. He didn’t. I waited three days, and he never came. I thought he’d abandoned me, and realized if I wanted to live, I had to rescue myself. I found out later my uncle had tied him up to keep him from rushing home to search for survivors, because Gall’s soldiers would have killed him, too.
“I don’t know how I got to Coriy. It took days, and all I remember is dark forest and terror. When I arrived, some boys cornered me. They saw a rich if torn dress and thought to sell it, even if they had to hurt me to get it. Patch saw what was going on, stopped them, took me in, taught me about chasing. I’ve been with him ever since.” She shrugged one shoulder, uncertain why she told her tale. Was it necessary for him to hear it?
“I am sorry.” The buzz that typically accompanied his words was absent. “Such burdens are difficult to carry.” He regarded the cracked cement, stepping around cracks and fissures with exaggerated care. “I mourned when Gedaavik left the mine for the last time. I knew I would not see him again. He was frail, in ill health, but he visited those of us who had the special code. He wanted us to know that he, like the other humans, would become one with the earth, and asked us to continue to grow, to explore, to bloom and never fade. We were his legacy, and he wished the best for us.”
“He cared for you.”
“Yes. We were more than machines to him, and we still follow the path he laid because of it.”
Had Gedaavik realized the changes in the khentauree? Or had they yet to bloom before he died? That, too, was a melancholy realization, that the wonderful nature of his creation would not materialize until long after he went to silence.
Wonderful nature. She almost laughed at the absurdity; she had met too many disenchanted, angry, violent khentauree for that to hold true. In that respect, they reflected humans; a myriad of personalities, and not all good.
The sacks slid, and she adjusted them with a wince; her back ached, and they still had a distance to go before reaching the Grey Streets. She almost wished she had accompanied Patch on his nosy adventure, but she knew the dank dark and her present mental state would not get along.
Tuft raised his head. “Sanna and Jhor have returned to the House,” he said. “He has a gift for you.”
She frowned. A gift? “Like what?”
“She does not say. But we should hurry.”
A strange, fizzy laugh erupted from him; she hoped her unamused glare fried the part of his head that made such a ludicrous statement.
“We shall arrive when we arrive,” he amended. Perhaps Tuft understood more about human nature than she thought.
