Jaruna helps me up to my feet with­out say­ing a word. His nose is gush­ing blood. He wipes it on the inside of his sleeve. He looks dazed, sleep­walk­ing.

I’m afraid to turn around.

Right now, Kiddu could be alive or she could be dead. If I turn around, one of those pos­si­bil­i­ties will be brought into real­ity. So I just stand there, frozen.

 

“Ow!”

A jolt of dis­charged sta­tic pricks my arm—held now by a grin­ning, alive Kiddu. I col­lapse into her, I’m so relieved. Her eyes are a bit glazed and her hair is once again a frizzy mess. But she seems unharmed. It occurs to me that the sor­cerer was hold­ing back quite a bit when he shot her, com­pared with the huge blasts of light­ning he shot at the mys­tic.

“You don’t look so good,” she says.

I touch my mouth gin­gerly. It feels numb. My whole body feels numb. I cough and spit out blood, try­ing hard not to think about the ragged geom­e­try of the wound.

I wob­ble a bit. This causes Ayan to gasp.

“Stay away from the blood!” she says, point­ing near my feet. “It has been tainted with the sin of his black magic!”

I step away from the sorcerer’s corpse.

Jaruna fin­ishes rewrap­ping his cloth fin­ger­guards and then nocks his bow. In the process, he seems to switch from dazed teenager back to fear­less war­rior.

“We must hurry,” he says. “More sor­cer­ers are com­ing.”

 

We jog down the cor­ri­dor, fol­low­ing Jaruna’s lead. Hinged doors line the hall, sag­ging and rot­ted por­tals into dark rooms. The build­ing must be part of the Divid­ing Wall complex—a dis­used old fort absorbed into the half-mile-long tri­an­gu­lar bul­wark.

Even­tu­ally we pass a huge gravitic por­tal, a heavy stone slab engraved with a huge zig­gu­rat and eye. I can hear sol­diers shout­ing out­side.

“Two … three … four,” says the mys­tic. He is count­ing hinged doors. We fol­low him past the por­tal and then he abruptly turns to kick down hinged door num­ber six. It opens into an unlit stair­well that winds down into black noth­ing­ness.

I hear a puls­ing sound—wohm-wohm-wohm.

Then, stone slid­ing against stone. Behind us, the gravitic por­tal starts to open.

“Come!” shouts Jaruna.

 

We race single-file down the pitch-black wind­ing stairs. Ayan slams the hinged door behind us.

I grope the curved wall blindly with my hands. Then I stum­ble over rub­ble lin­ing the stairs and for a hor­ri­fy­ing sec­ond I am sure I will fall head­long and break my neck. Some­how, I steady myself.

The ground at the bot­tom of the stairs is soft sand, unlevel and treach­er­ous in the dark. I want to call out for light but the sound of mass­ing and yelling sol­diers from the floor above per­suades me to be quiet.

I strain to fol­low the sounds of the people’s foot­steps ahead. Then I see something—a flick­er­ing light at the end of a tun­nel.

It’s a can­dle, held up by an old native man. He appears to have been wait­ing for us.

“Mujasha­triya Jaruna!” he says. “This way!”

 

We fol­low the old native into a nar­row cleft in the dark stone wall. As skinny as I am, it’s still a squeeze.

The cleft leads into a curved tun­nel dug out of sand, V-shaped on the bot­tom. Rick­ety low-hanging wooden beams hold up the ceil­ing. I bump my head against one and a shower of sand falls down from above, nearly extin­guish­ing the native’s can­dle.

“Be care­ful,” he hisses.

The whole tun­nel seems ready to col­lapse at any minute. Every step digs into the loosely packed sand of the nar­row sloped walls.

Jaruna speaks to our guide in a tense whis­per. “Is every­thing pre­pared?”

“Mostly. The sin­ners have imposed a cur­few. Move­ment is dif­fi­cult. We should have expected—mujashatriya, may I ask who these two are?”

Jaruna doesn’t answer right away. He prob­a­bly has no idea what to say.

“Other pris­on­ers,” he finally says. “Do not worry. They are with us.”

The bald man flicks his nar­row wrin­kled eyes from me to Kiddu. His eyes widen, tak­ing in her unveiled dark-skinned face and bare arms and legs in the dim can­dle­light. Then he quickly looks away.

Akka­dian pris­on­ers,” he says.

“I am cer­tain we shall find some use for them,” Jaruna says. “Asham will­ing.”

“Wait a minute,” says Kiddu. “What the hell is that sup­posed to mean?”

 

Everyone’s eyes widen now. The bald old native shifts uncom­fort­ably in the sand.

“Kiddu, let’s not—” I say.

“No, Gil! If they only res­cued us to use as hostages—”

Jaruna lets out the most con­de­scend­ing sigh I think I’ve ever heard.

“Sis­ter, per­haps you should remind me why we did res­cue these fools?”

“Fools?” says Kiddu. “Gil just saved your life, you ass!”

At this, the old native gasps.

“Kiddu!” says Ayan. “Con­trol your­self.”

“Hold on,” I say. “She’s right. We’re grateful—but we have a right to know what’s going on. Me and Kiddu don’t usu­ally asso­ciate with … killers.”

Killers?” says Jaruna.

The old native holds up his free hand, cut­ting off the argu­ment. I can hear mud­dled sounds from behind us. Impe­r­ial sol­diers search­ing the base­ment.

“Lord Jaruna,” he whis­pers. “You must go on ahead. I will col­lapse the tun­nel behind you.”

He thrusts the can­dle into Jaruna’s free hand.

“Do not worry about me! I have been doing this for years. I know these tun­nels like the back of my hand. All praise to Asham.”

All praise to Asham,” echoes Jaruna.

Mov­ing like a mon­key, the old native darts off into the dark­ness.

 

After a few moments a pres­sure wave pulses from behind. There’s a sound like light rain.

We con­tinue plod­ding through the sand ahead, duck­ing under wooden beams. I feel like I’m being swept along by some unseen force.

Sud­denly, the mys­tic turns around to face me. Eyes nar­rowed, pupils glow­ing with reflected light. I flinch.

“Akka­dian,” he says. “You may have aided me in bat­tle. But do not think for a sec­ond that you may freely insult me. You—or your squawk­ing whore of a sis­ter.”

Jaruna!” says Ayan.

I stop flinch­ing and start clench­ing my fists.

“It’s not an insult,” I say. “It’s a fact. You just killed a dozen peo­ple. With­out even hes­i­tat­ing. You’re a killer. And don’t you dare talk about—”

“Sol­diers!” says the mys­tic. “And how many inno­cents have your peo­ple killed, sin­ner? A thou­sand? Ten thou­sand? Tell me, and then we may talk about who the real killers are!”

“Hey,” says Kiddu. “I’m not Gil’s sis­ter. And nei­ther of us likes the Empire. At all. So if you’re going to treat us like we do, Lord Jack­ass or who­ever the hell you are, you can go and fuck your­self.”

 

I step in front of Kiddu, pos­i­tive that the mys­tic is going to turn around and slap her. Or shoot her.

Instead, he just sighs. He turns to his sis­ter and speaks in an almost plain­tive voice. “Ayan—”

She ignores him. Another pres­sure wave moves through the claus­tro­pho­bic tunnel—behind us the old native must have brought down a sec­ond set of sup­port beams.

“Kiddu,” Ayan says. “If you con­tinue to speak in this way, my brother may well decide not to take you with us.”

“And where are you tak­ing us?” says Kiddu. “You never answered! What are you peo­ple plan­ning to do with us?”

“I would like to know the answer to that as well, sis­ter,” says Jaruna.

I can’t tell for sure, because of her veil—but Ayan’s eyes crin­kle in a way that sug­gests a smile.

“Gil and Kiddu, my plan is to take you with us, across the desert and over the mountains—to the holy city of Har­rappa.”