1. THE BAZAAR
“There.” Lero whispered to Cythe, jutting his head towards the alehouse. Nia squinted at the dingy establishment across the busy street, this early in the morning it was hardly open for business. Cythe took a step towards the building and Lero snatched her wrist. His eyes pointed to where the legionnaires lounged in the shade. “You do realize they’ll recognize you as the Legate’s wife, yes?”
“And they wouldn’t you?” Cythe hiked Tius up on her hip. She gestured kindly to the legionnaires as Titus grabbed for her hair.
Nia crossed her arms. “Will either of you telling what is going on?” Lero’s jaw tightened in silent warning to their sister. “Fine.” Nia huffed. “Forget it.” Besides, she had other business to attend to.
Or she did. Several city blocks later, the legionnaires were still trailing them. Nia regretted taking up her sister’s offer to go to the bazaar. She wondered how best she could lose their entourage in the buzzing market. The merchants voice rang out in the early morning, echoing off the walls of the narrow streets.
“Spices— genuine spices.”
“Salt! Salt!”
“Fish! Freshly caught.”
“Fine silk from Pi-Yenja. Authentic silk smooth enough for a king.”
“Treasures straight from the Dunelands.” Nia slowed at the voice. Her siblings kept walking, disappearing around the corner of the block. Nia hiked up her scarf and ducked her head past a passer-by. A middle aged Ashenian man waved her over from a stall constructed in the alleyway between two houses. Nia turned to make sure the legionnaire’s hadn’t noticed her. The merchant snapped at her ear.
Nia growled as she faced him. “Merka.” She greeted.
The Ashenian trader was short, stout, and eternally sunburnt. His red skin peeled around his nose and sweaty neck. Merka rolled four knuckles across the counter. Nia leaned in closer as if to examine a black onyx funerary statue and dropped a few shras on the counter. They disappeared within seconds. Merka’s hand inspected them underneath the counter. “Well caught, raider.”
Her cheeks heated, she was far from the only tomb raider who served Merka and the other treasure dealers of the lower bazaar, but her proximity to the Legate had made her dealings insurmountably dangerous. If Clavo ever found out that she had been undercutting him for years, well, Nia couldn’t bear to stomach the thought.
But it was a risk worth taking. After four years of crawling, climbing, and squeezing herself through near-death experiences; Nia had traded enough treasure and squirreled away enough coin to start her life elsewhere. If she even knew where ‘elsewhere’ was.
Nia kept her eyes on the legionnaires as they moved to the next patch of shade. They were still focused on ehr sister, who was now trading compliments with a scarf weaver. “What news?”
“Three diggers left four days ago.”
Nia narrowed her eyes. They must have escaped during the most recent work rotation to the necropolis. “Their path?”
“I’ve been told north, towards Xur.”
Nia scrunched her nose. The path to Xur was treacherous, and the escapees would be Goddess favored to make it there alive. She nodded her head. “Thank you.”
“And my delivery?”
“At the usual spot.”
With nothing else to say, Merka slipped a her a circular loaf of bread. Nia held up the hollow loaf, shaking it. Her payment would be inside. She walked back across the street, making a show of smelling the fresh loaf.
“I should report you.” Lero whispered when she caught up to them.
“You won’t.”
“Under the Legate’s nose. Seriously sister. How stupid are you?”
Cythe looked over from the merchant. “Both of you be pleasant.”
Her be pleasant? Nia and Lero’s mouths flung open to argue, but Cythe’s quick gesture demanded silence. She pressed a finger to her lips and pointed to the center of the street. Nia followed her hand and flinched as the whip bit into skin.
Ka-TCH! Ka-TCH!
The legionnaire released the whip again, tearing open another gash. Ka-TCH! Ka-TCH!
The second legionnaire cupped his hands to his mouth. “Attention!” He boomed at the gathered crowd. “For far to long, the kerai have fled into the Dunelands. The Legate has ordered increased patrols along De-Asha’s walls. By the edict of our esteemed Conqueror, any kerai caught will be sentenced to hard labor in De-Urs.”
The bazaar gasped in collective horror. De-Urs had the deadliest quarries in the region.
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“We cannot leave the city?” A woman whispered.
“They can’t do this.”
“They can.” Lero said evenly.
“I thought—” Cythe trailed off.
“The Legate is one of them.” Lero snapped. “You know the law.”
Nia did. The Conqueror had ruled decades ago after the Houses surrendered that any kerai discovered in the aker state would either be enslaved or sentenced to death. Not all who lived in Ker were among the kerai. As the generations passed, fewer children were born with Sachmis’ gift to manifest one’s wyrd into the physical world. Those who felt the undeniable pull of the goddess would confine themselves within their homes or race into the desert. Escaping into the Dunelands had worked, until it hadn’t. Clavo’s father and previous Legate, Crassus Clavo had first ordered the patrols. Swiftly afterwards De-Asha’s kerai population was funneled through the empire in chains.
Ka-TCH! Ka-TCH!
Nia dug her teeth into her own cheek. The kerai man wailed as the legionnaire continued to whip him.
Ka-TCH! Ka-TCH!
The overpowering smell of blood hit her nostrils. The need to hunt, to hurt, to kill reared up within her. No! Nia clenched her fist, willing the aker to stay down. Her jaw began to ache.
Cythe’s hand found her shoulder. “Nia.” She soothed. “Take a deep breath.”
The whip rose, snapping at the man’s legs. The prisoner rolled onto his back, folding his legs close to his chest. The legionnaire took a step forward, raising the whip.
The aker thudded against her sternum. “Cythe, I’m scared. I’m going to-”
“No, Nia!” Cythe’s voice hinted at her fear. She pulled her in close. “Nia, you can’t.”
The prisoner ax kicked the legionnaire’s face. The soldier reared back, angrily clenching his bleeding nose. The prisoner rolled onto his feat and half-ran, half-limped through the crowd.
“Out of the way!” Lero shoved Nia to the ground. Her brother unsheathed their father’s khoshep as he ran. Curved sword in the air, he stuck out his foot in one fluid gesture sending the prisoner stumbling. With military precision, Lero stepped behind the prisoner and held the blade at the reedy man’s throat. The other legionnaire’s hustled over, pushing through the crowd.
“Good catch, Uro.”
Lero’s face flushed. He pulled back the blade and released the man’s hair. “I’ll leave him to it.”
“Yes sir!” The legionnaires heaved the man to his feet.
The kerai spat. “You’re a traitor.”
Lero’s face hardened. He marched back to Nia and Cythe. “Let’s go.”
“Run away, Uro.” The scarf merchant snatched back a green scarf that Cythe had been purchasing. “I knew I recognized the two of you. You are the Legate’s whore and you—” she pointed a bony finger at Lero. “Are his lapdog.”
“Ma’am, go home and stay inside.”
“And you’ll run back to the Legate.” The woman’s husband snarled. “It is all your House is good for. Well that and spreading your legs.”
Cythe flushed deep crimson. Lero stepped forward. “Do you think my sister wanted to marry that monster?”
“Lero,” Cythe whispered. “You are creating a scene.”
Their brother turned, noticing how the bazaar patrons noticed their commotion. He scowled. “Return to your homes at once. Heed the warning of the Legate.”
It was a long and brutal walk back to the compound. Disquiet radiated off of Cythe’s normally sunny face, and Lero’s thunderous anger was better left alone. Nia trailed behind them, concerned at how close the aker had been to breaking free. How many people could she have hurt?
Lero let out a shuttering breath. “I have to keep our family safe.”
“I know that.” Cythe said.
“You are his wife. I am his legionnaire. I, we, have to be like them.”
“But we aren’t.” Nia whispered.
Lero whipped his head around. “I don’t want to hear you speak after what you almost did. Do you hear me?”
They lapsed into silence again. The Legate waited for them at the gates of compound. Nia’s footsteps slowed as they approached. “Baba!” Titus wiggled out of Cythe’s grasp. Clavo squinted his eye down at the toddler as he wrapped his tiny arms around his tree trunk of a leg. He folded his enormous arms across his chest. “I heard the three of you took a stroll.”
Cythe’s voice was full of feigned cheerfulness. “Yes. It’s rare my sister is in De-Asha long enough for me to visit with her. You send her on so many assignments love. We went shopping for a new scarf for mother.”
“That’s not what I heard.” Clavo said tonelessly. “There was a commotion in the lower bazaar for my men.”
“It was contained.” Lero said immediately.
The Legate narrowed his eyes. “Containing the Kerai is not good enough for the Conqueror.”
Cythe reached down and pulled up Titus. “And what of your son?”
Clavo scowled. “I have my orders. You know what I would have to do.” Clavo reached out and allowed the toddler to grip his finger. “Get him inside.”
Cythe dropped Titus to the ground and he ran through the gate. Lero nodded his head in deference and followed after them. The Legate stuck his arm out. “Lose control like that again, and your family will not save you.” He threatened.
Fear pierced her. How close had she come to unleashing the aker that even the Legate had heard? “They’re not your family Clavo.”
“You forget your place. My son will inherit your House.” He scoffed. “Another expedition leaves to the necropolis in the morning. Get your brother. We ride at dawn.”