Take special care to heed this warning. The earth bears sustenance and poison in equal measure. The five-point flower grows in two breeds, one of a cup shape and the other a star. The leaves of the former are harmless, while the leaves of the latter cause sickness. If the berries are dull and grow side by side, eat your fill. If the berries shine and grow alone, grind their seeds finely. Feed it to your enemy and your enemy will be no more.
-The Twenty-Nine Mysteries, Book 27
Dhasherah Region, Qarda
“Hurry, sister,” said Akona. “He isn’t far behind!”
Akona led her sister by hand deeper into the misty woods. Her legs burned, but she was starting to get a second wind. They had no leisure of slowing, much less stopping, or they would die.
“I say we kill him,” said Styri, “and rest for a while!”
“I told you it’s not that easy,” Akona argued quietly. She paused between her sentences so as not to make too much sound all at once. “Their emperor died last night. They have birds to carry messages for them from outpost to outpost. Word will travel across this whole kingdom before we even make our fire tonight!”
“So what? If we kill the man chasing us, then we’ll be free! There was only one.” Styri shot a glance over her shoulder as they ran.
“This kingdom is crawling with spies. You know this! The man who hired us told us as much! Every outpost in their relay system is numbered. If the spy fails to send a report in the allotted time, his fellows will know something happened to him.”
“And?”
It was overwhelming, bickering with Styri and running for her life at the same time. “Then the others will know exactly where to find us, Styri! If we evade him, then no one will know where we are!”
“You have it backward!”
“No, I have it frontward!”
“Stop!”
Akona jerked forward with momentum, and this time it was her sister holding her back by the hand. “What?” she whispered.
Styri looked at her sternly, panting. “Akona, give me the pipe,” she said with finality. “Let the other spies come looking for him. We can go in another direction after a bit of a rest. Just one meal and a nap. By the time they’re on our trail, we’ll be long gone.”
“Did you not hear what I just said, Styri?”
“We’ve been running all morning. We haven’t eaten in a day. I’m starving!” Styri flailed her body like a pouting child.
With all of Styri’s childish complaining, it was hard to believe that she was her twin—harder still that Styri was the firstborn, older than Akona’s thirteen years by a quarter of a day. Those hours must have allowed Akona’s mind to ripen more fully in the womb.
“Give me the pipe,” Styri repeated.
“If it needs to be done, I will do it—”
“I’m the better shot, Akona! The glademothers said—”
“Shh!” Akona slapped a hand over her sister’s mouth. “Listen.” There they were again—the rapid, nimble footfalls of the spy that chased them, stirring up forest detritus as they went. Then they fell dead silent once more. “Position. Signal. Shoot. Got it?”
“Got it.”
Akona yanked the pipe out of her pack. It was a thin wooden tube with contents that rattled inside. She held it out then revoked it before her sister could snatch it. “Promise?” She intertwined her arm with her sister’s, squeezing tightly, and Styri squeezed back. It was their way of sealing their word.
“Promise,” Styri whispered, eyeing the trees behind them.
They’d practiced this stratagem many times with the glademothers of Myrenthos. The two of them took up their tactical positions in two separate clusters of dense ferns. Akona was to be their lookout—she could see farther, and in finer detail, than her sister. She would give the signal to indicate the location and direction of their target.
She imagined her sister carrying out each step that they had rehearsed together hundreds of times. Drawing the vial from the pipe. Unsealing the cork and plucking out the small feathered poison dart. Loading the dart into the blowpipe needle-side down. Please be careful with that, Styri, she thought. That needle can kill you even without drawing a drop of blood. I should know. I made the poison myself.
Tense moments dragged by like hours.
Mother told us to survive at all costs. To protect each other—that’s what we swore to her. I suppose that’s what you’re trying to do in your own way. I trust you.
They heard footsteps again. Slower this time—stalking. But they were getting closer.
Almost... Almost...
A twig snapped—then a cluster of bushes exploded with movement. Too fast for a signal.
Now!
Akona saw the dart spit out from the ferns. It hit its target—but not the target that they were expecting.
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The poison dart stabbed the neck of a lunging monkey. It screeched as it fumbled to a stop on the forest floor. Then it chattered nervously, pawing at the dart already working its bitter magic in the animal’s veins, a spot of rust colored blood tinging its thick gray fur.
The creature looked around in all directions. What was that emotion on its eerily human face? Hurt? Confusion? Fear? It crawled a few more paces to the base of a tree, chattering some more, maybe saying a prayer to some simian god before it was too late.
Then the poison’s work was done. The monkey’s body slumped over for the last time. They both waited a few moments longer to confirm that they were in the clear. Akona gave the safety signal and, in unison, they emerged from their hiding spots, both apparently furious with the other.
“What were you thinking?” Akona snapped. “Why would you do that?”
Styri laughed bitterly. “World class spies! That’s what you said! Does this look like a Qardish veracidin to you? He probably lost our trail a long time ago! This was a waste of a day!”
“Well, at least we’re done running. Do you feel better now that you can rest your poor, tired legs? All you had to do was kill an innocent monkey!”
“Obviously I didn’t know it was a monkey at first!” Styri reached out and pinched her twin’s underarm.
“Ow! What did I tell you about pinching me?” Akona did it back.
“Stop it! Stop!”
“You started it!”
They each gave each other a halfhearted shove before turning their attention to the victim of the poison dart. The woods of Dhasherah were quiet again.
“I really didn’t mean to,” Styri lamented. Her younger sister put a conciliatory hand on her shoulder.
“Obviously, I know that.”
“So the spy is gone now, right? He lost our trail? We’re safe?”
“That, or he’s watching us, waiting for us to relax before he strikes.”
They both surveyed the dense forest, not unlike ambushed monkeys in their own right, searching for the source of their danger. Akona scanned the tree line for any signs of motion, any sounds of the spy that had been tracking them since dawn. The glademothers had trained her in the arts of perception and vigilance since she could walk and talk. They were alone.
For now.
“Fine,” Akona muttered. “We're safe for the moment. Let’s have a short rest and eat. Then we cover more ground before dark.”
Styri tossed her head back and sighed with relief. “Finally. I’m so hungry my belly aches! I hate this place. I just want to go home.” She caught her breath with her hands on her knees. “Where are the rations?”
“Those are for emergencies. I told you that. I’ll find us food here in the wild—we just can’t stray far from each other.” Akona pointed at the ground. “Wait here. I’ll be back shortly.”
“On second thought,” said Styri, eyeing the monkey’s body. “Let’s find another spot to rest.”
***
The wood was wet and much of it still too green to use. Lesser minds would have suffered the cold mist, but the glademothers’ training more than equipped Styri to start a fire even in these conditions. She hoped Akona would bring back more than plants to eat.
Akona was always the better forager of the two. She had a meticulous knowledge of hundreds of different plants. Granted, she was less familiar with Qardish varieties, but she was learning.
Styri was the huntress. She craved a squirrel, a juicy rabbit, or, better still, a big, tender deer to cook and eat. Akona preferred the slower route, plucking something out of the earth that could neither feel pain nor run away. A dandelion didn’t taste nearly as good as a fresh caught fish seared on an open flame.
Still, she respected her sister’s talents. If Akona didn’t know whether a plant was good to eat, she knew the ancient ways of testing it. She would pluck one and separate its parts, the flower, the stem, the leaves, and so on. She would rub a part on her skin, wait a while, then chew on a piece of that same part, and wait a while to observe the effects. Styri had forgotten those lessons from their youth. Sometimes Akona would carry out her testing and then determine a plant was safe to eat. Otherwise, if she experienced any ill effects after consumption, she would force herself to vomit and then have only water for the rest of the day.
The glademothers’ teachings were all that kept them alive in the wild.
Twigs crunched. Her eyes snapped to the source of the sound—Akona returning with the hem of her tunic pulled up, a pile of foraged food in her lap. They shared an eager grin for the feast they were about to enjoy.
They ate in silence. Blueberries, red berries, and little black ones, too. They both already knew these fruits were good for eating. Akona also found four fat black fruits with thick, bumpy rinds that were bigger than apples. These were savory rather than sweet. Styri had never encountered a fruit like this in Myrenthos, but she gnawed both of hers down to the bitter wooden pits.
“Like butter,” Styri murmured, licking the bits of green from her fingers.
“Yes,” said Akona. “That’s just what I was thinking.”
They rested for a while after that. Styri lay back in the grass with her pack as a pillow. She passed the time studying the forest canopy overhead, picking out little shards of gray sky from the green like broken pottery on grass.
It had been a long while when Styri broke the silence. “Do you still have it?” she asked.
“Of course.”
“Show it to me.”
“Styri—”
“Please, Akona!” She sat up. “It’ll make me feel better.”
Her younger sister reached into her own pack, pulling out their proof of a successful mission. It was a length of the Qardish emperor’s beard, the golden lacer still attached, royal seal engraving and all. It was in the same bag as the thirty gold coins they were paid in Castle Muadazim for the job. The rest of their payment awaited them at home in Myrenthos. “Satisfied?” Akona said finally, and she put the bound black hair back in with the coins.
“We did it,” said Styri. “We did it and we got away with it.” She winced when she remembered the killing blow they’d dealt to the conquering king—even the huntress needed help from her sister with that part. But it was a necessary evil when they didn’t know if the hierophant had access to antidotes. “It was the right thing to do. Right?”
Akona nodded. “Ask our sisters and brothers he killed. All for serving women snowflake flower so they wouldn’t bear children. He called it an affront to their god... Well, their invasion was an affront to all twenty-nine of ours.”
“Everything played out just like Prime Oracle Hessandra foretold. Praise be to Anteira.”
“Praise be,” Akona agreed.
They were quiet another while after that. Then Styri spoke up again. “Do you really think we’ll make it back home alive?”
Akona sat up on the grass, rolling to face her. “What did our mother tell us to do when that man hired us? When we were carrying out the prophecy handed down by the Prime Oracle herself?”
“Survive.”
“And?”
“Protect each other.”
Akona nodded solemnly. “That’s right. And that’s what we’ve been doing. And that’s what we’ll continue to do until our heads are back on our pillows at home. Then I can tell our mother what a colossal pain you’ve been this entire time.”
Styri snickered. “Promise?” She crooked her arm out.
Akona squeezed with her own arm. “Promise.” Then she stood up, adjusting the pack hanging off her shoulders. Styri jumped to her feet as well. “Let’s get out of here. We have more ground to cover before nightfall.”
“I wonder what the Qardish are doing right now,” said Styri. “Back at the castle, I mean. At this very moment.”
“I can tell you what they’re doing,” Akona replied. She cast one last glance back at the woods behind them before leading the way forward. “Tasting their own justice for the first time in a hundred years.”