The City of Zirdai by Maria V. Snyder

Three

That explained the two shadows outside his door. “Do you have another exit?” she asked.

“Of course,” Fadey said, gesturing to his back rooms. “But they’re being watched by the prince’s dogs as well.”

She thought quickly. “All right. I’ll be back.”

“No. Run away and don’t come back!”

“Don’t worry, Fadey. I’ve a plan. They won’t know I returned.”

He pulled on his beard. The long strands of curly hair straightened. “I can’t help you if you’re arrested.” Fadey released his hold and the beard bounced back into place.

“I know. Keep your door unlocked so I can slip inside.” She left his rooms and glanced to each side as if nervous, clutching her wrap tighter.

The guards stepped from the shadows to her left, but she pretended that she didn’t notice them. Instead, she turned and hurried down the tunnel. They followed her. Shyla led them further away from Fadey’s rooms and snagged a druk lantern before going into the abandoned tunnels. Unlike Jayden, she wasn’t as knowledgeable about all the back ways, shortcuts, and hidden areas of Zirdai, but she’d explored many of the upper levels, including level seventeen.

She looped around a few times, hoping to get the guards lost. They didn’t grab a druk. No doubt to stay hidden in the darkness beyond the reach of her orange-tinted light. When she entered the next intersection, she turned right and closed the druk, plunging them all in complete blackness.

A muffled cry of dismay sounded. The men hustled around the corner. She didn’t linger. With a hand on the wall, she raced ahead of them. When she reached the next intersection, she turned left and then right at the following one. Once satisfied she’d lost them, she opened the druk and returned to Fadey’s.

This time no one lurked nearby and she entered his rooms without any problems. Fadey stuck his curly head out the door to check that no one waited to arrest her.

“Scorching hells, Shyla. What did you do?” he asked, closing and locking the door.

“I led them on a merry chase and lost them. By the time they figure out how to return, I’ll be long gone. Now, let’s sit down and catch up.”

He grumbled but led her to his sitting room. The opulent touches—lava stones, a hand-woven rug, and oversized cushions—were all gone. A few battered thin cushions remained and Fadey plopped onto one while Shyla sat on another, facing him.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“The Water Prince sent his dogs to round up all the treasure hunters,” he said in a defeated tone.

“Round up? Are they—”

“They’ve been arrested. They’re either rotting in one of his black cells or have been tortured to death.”

Horrified, she pressed her hands to her chest. “Do you know what happened to Banqui?”

“Dekel spotted him creeping around the city, looking skeletal. It was about twenty to twenty-five sun jumps ago. Then one of my hunters reported seeing him about two or three sun jumps after that with a deacon escort. And I’ve heard nothing since.”

Captured or collaborating? Either way it wasn’t good news.

“Sorry, I know you are friends. I’d look into his whereabouts, but I’ve my own problems to deal with.”

She focused on Fadey. “Why is the prince arresting the hunters now?” The prince had mostly ignored them and the black market merchants.

“Those blasted Eyes. You stole them from him and he’s determined that no more artifacts shall be taken. Rohana, his new archeologist, is the only person authorized to dig.” Fadey leaned forward. “If you still have them, you need to give them back!”

It was a good thing Fadey’s powers of observation tended toward ancient artifacts or else he would have noticed the change in her eye color by now. “The Eyes don’t belong to him.”

“But we’re all suffering.”

“Do you really think if he had The Eyes he would release the hunters?” Guilt and sadness twisted around her heart. At least Fadey wasn’t locked in a cell. A beat later—why not? “Why didn’t he arrest you?”

“He did. I was…questioned and forced to give him the names of treasure hunters.” He hung his head in shame.

“Did he interrogate you in one of his special rooms?”

A nod, but he wouldn’t meet her gaze.

“Fadey, no one is going to blame you for cracking. You survived a terrible experience.”

“No one else thinks that way. They all say I’m a coward. Then to rub it in, the prince assigned me to be Rohana’s assistant and if I don’t locate artifacts for her, she threatens to send me back to the prince.” He shuddered then hooked a thumb behind him. “Those dogs outside my door are looking for the hunters who got away.”

A spark of hope. “Some escaped?”

“A few. Fortunately, I don’t know all the hunters in Zirdai so couldn’t name them, and they’re smart enough to stay far away from me. No one has visited me except you, and now he’ll know you’re alive.”

“No, he’ll learn someone came to visit you. They didn’t recognize me.”

Looking miserable, he put his head in his hands. “They’ll ask me, Shyla. And I’m not strong enough to keep it secret.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

He glanced at her. “Are you that confident you can avoid being arrested?”

“No, but I’m learning how to stay hidden, probably like the hunters who escaped. Or do you think they left Zirdai?”

“I don’t know where they are. If they’re smart, they’re long gone.”

“Do you know who escaped?”

“Someone tipped off Dekel and he told his crew. They scattered right before the guards arrived.”

“Is Aphra part of Dekel’s crew?”

“Yeah.”

Shyla was glad the woman escaped. Aphra had treated her like a normal person.

“I answered your questions, now it’s my turn. What happened to you?” Fadey asked. “The deacons said you went topside during the killing heat and died. We spent an entire service thanking the Sun Goddess for taking you home.”

She found it interesting that the priestess hadn’t informed her flock that the evil sun-kissed had returned. That would be quite the embarrassment. It also might proved to be to Shyla’s benefit.

“They lectured us about reporting sun-kisseds as soon as they are born. Sorry.” He ducked his head.

Everyone believed Shyla had been left on the sands to die when she was a newborn, including her until eighteen sun jumps ago when she’d learned she was born in the monastery and Hanif was her father. “Why are you sorry? You haven’t sacrificed any sun-kissed babies, have you?”

He stared at her in horror. “No!” Then he recovered. “They want us to report all sun-kisseds.”

“Does this mean you’re going to report me?”

“Of course not. But why would the deacons lie about you?”

“They didn’t. I did go topside right before the killing heat.”

“How did you survive? No one has before.”

Shyla leaned closer to the man. “Fadey, look at me, please.” She lowered her shield as he met her gaze.

Finally noticing her new eye color, he jerked in surprise. “Your eyes—”

“Fadey, you will forget my visit and our conversation. Shyla Sun-Kissed is dead. When the guards ask who came to see you, tell them it was a merchant looking for treasures to sell on the black market. Tell them you turned her away and laid down for a nap.”

Sleep.

He slumped over. Shyla lifted his head and tucked a cushion underneath. Even though it would save him from getting into trouble, erasing his memories sat heavily on her heart. She wondered if she would reach a point where altering memories no longer caused her concern. Would she be ruthless in order to win? Shyla hoped not, but it worried her.

As she navigated the tunnels down to level thirty-nine, she considered her next move. Even if Aphra remained in Zirdai, would the woman still be able to sell treasures for Shyla? The hunter had mentioned working with someone at the university in Catronia—the closest city to Zirdai—so perhaps Aphra’s network hadn’t been shut down by the prince’s sweep. But how would she find the woman? Maybe Jayden had some ideas.

She arrived at the commune before Jayden. Zhek waylaid her almost immediately, demanding to check her injury. With her history of ripping stitches, there was no way he’d trust her word that it was fine. She grinned at the surprised tone in his voice when he declared it “healing nicely.”

Then she found Orla writing on a scroll at a low table. The leader was alone so Shyla approached and asked her if she wouldn’t mind answering some questions.

“What type of questions?” Orla asked.

“Boring ones about how you take care of everyone.”

“Ah. Ilan,” she called to a group of children.

A boy around ten circuits old skidded to a stop. “Yes, Grandmother?”

“Fetch us some tea, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He raced off.

Orla smiled fondly at him before turning to Shyla. “One of the things you need to instill in everybody is that everyone is equally important to the group’s survival. No one is more important than anyone else. From the youngest to the oldest, we rely on each other and we all have important jobs. If you can walk, you can help.”

Ilan returned with a teapot in one hand and two cups in the other.

“Take Ilan here,” Orla said as the boy set the items down on the stone table. “He’s our best sand rat catcher, and he takes good care of them.”

Ilan beamed. “They like me. And do you know they have an excellent sense of smell?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “Big Bad and his off-spring can sniff out the poison in the water. If they smell it, they’ll refuse to drink it. Isn’t that amazing?”

“It is,” Shyla agreed, suppressing a grin over the boy’s enthusiasm about sand rats of all things.

“And they’re really loving creatures. Smart, too.”

Interesting. “Can they be trained?”

“Oh yeah. I’ve taught Black Tail to retrieve items. And I’ve a bunch that I’ve taught how to play hide and seek—they can find anyone, anywhere, but my friends say using the rats while playing the game is cheating.” He shrugged. “And…” He lowered his voice. “I sent Cat Toy to sneak into my sister’s room. You should have heard her scream.” He laughed.

“Shyla probably did,” Orla said dryly. “Along with everyone else in Zirdai.”

“Is that what triggered the level twenty cave-in?” Shyla asked, playing along.

“No, that was Ilan’s mother yelling at him for scaring his sister.”

“Worth it,” Ilan said before dashing off.

Shyla laughed.

Orla poured them tea. “If you’re buying water from the black market, you’ll need sand rats as well. Ilan will sell you a few of his.”

Good to know and a reminder for her to get back on track. She asked Orla about acquiring resources. Gesturing to the people around them, she asked, “How do you find enough clothing for them all?”

“We own a herd of gamelu. We shear them and make our own fabric.”

Completely shocked, Shyla stared at the woman. “You own a herd? How is that possible?”

Orla sipped her tea. “We’re vagrants by choice. Some of us are even upstanding citizens who pay taxes, tithe to the church, and own herds. Once we supply our people, we sell the rest. We also own a herd of velbloud. Our sun cloaks are highly sought after,” she said with pride.

Recovering, Shyla asked, “Is that how you got the eggs and meat for first meal?”

“Yes, but the herds don’t provide enough to feed everyone so we have to find supplemental sources.” Orla brightened. “We’re saving to buy two more herds.”

Astounding. “What other ways do you earn coin?”

“Ah. We sell a variety of goods, including information. Our scouts keep an eye on the guards and deacons and will pick up gossip. The Invisible Sword paid us for any news that could compromise their organization.” Orla set her cup down. “The hardest thing to manage is the waste from the collection bins. We’re too deep to schlep it up to the surface to dry out.”

Shyla remembered having to cross through the worst stink she’d ever smelled when she had visited the commune on level sixteen. “What do you do with it?”

“We carry the bins to various collection stations in Zirdai and swap them for clean ones.”

“And the deacons don’t notice the extra…er…waste?”

“It’s an unpleasant job given to those who have sinned in some way. I doubt they think in depth about what they’re doing as they cart it up to the growing caverns to be turned into fertilizer.”

True. Right now the Invisible Swords dumped it on the surface and covered it with a layer of sand. Except she worried the smell might attract sand demons. Too bad they couldn’t turn it into something useful. Shyla straightened. Why not? They could clear out level six, install mirror pipes, and grow their own vegetables. They had plenty of fertilizer and “water.” The biggest hurdle would be getting plants.

She chatted with Orla for a while. The woman was a great source of information on how to handle the daily tasks of living.

When Shyla covered a yawn for a second time, Orla touched her forearm. “Here’s the most important thing to remember as a leader… You have to delegate. You can’t do everything or you’ll wear yourself out trying.” She squeezed once and let go. “Now go get some sleep.”

“I will.”

Orla gave her a skeptical look.

“Once Jayden returns.” His name triggered another question for Orla. “Are all the communes separate organizations with their own leaders?”

“Mostly. The vagrants used to be one group with one leader. We had to live in separate areas of Zirdai because it’s harder for the guards to find a smaller commune than one big one. However over time, we grew into our own individual units. Jayden acts as our liaison and we help each other when needed.”

Seemed her nickname for him was more accurate than she’d realized. “How did he get that job?”

“When Ezra, his father died, Jayden assumed his duties.” Orla lowered her voice. “Ezra was one of the leaders of the Invisible Sword as well. Many of the vagrant leaders took care of their people and helped the Invisible Sword.”

Shyla couldn’t resist asking, “Was that why Ezra died? Did the Water Prince find out about him?”

“No. Cave in. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” She sighed. “Jayden was only sixteen circuits old and he took it hard. Not only did his father die, but he suddenly had a great deal of responsibility on his shoulders.” Orla peered at her intently. “Much like you.”

True. And she still had so much to learn. ”Do you mind if I take a closer look around?”

“Go ahead. My lot will tell you if you’re in the way.”

The other times she’d been here, she’d noticed the cushions, curtains, and furniture, but now she picked up on the little details. Where their food and water was stored, where people slept and worked, the areas designated for relaxation, and where Ilan housed his sand rats—he carved a complex mini-city for them into one of the walls of a tunnel, complete with warrens, rat-sized passages, and velbloud fibers for bedding (they had a nicer home than she did).

It was all very overwhelming. So much to do, to learn, to organize, and to keep it all hidden…it was a massive undertaking. Orla’s advice of delegating would help and perhaps Shyla needed to focus on the immediate needs of the Invisible Swords instead of trying to figure it all out. Their biggest needs were coins, water, and food.

Jayden caught up to her as she watched a man weave six colored threads into a fabric with a complex pattern. His fingers moved with such deft precision there was no doubt he’d spent thousands of angles perfecting his craft.

“Thinking of starting a new career?” Jayden asked, joking.

“What I’m thinking is that if I had that job, I’d end up with a very colorful knot.” Then she mulled it over. “Actually, our jobs are rather similar.”

“How do you figure?”

“There are so many threads we need to weave together in order to set up our headquarters.”

“True. And it’s going to take us a while to get settled.”

Meanwhile, the Invisible Swords and the treasure hunters locked in the black cells continued to suffer. But if they rescued them now, they’d need a place to hide them and she wouldn’t endanger the vagrant communes or the monks.

“Did you locate a place we could connect to?” she asked.

“Yes. It’s on level ten back in the northwest quadrant. There was a cave-in there about six or seven circuits ago. A bunch of people died so no one wants to live there now. In fact there’s still rubble, which we can use to our advantage.”

“Great.”

He smiled, but it was half-hearted. “That was the easy part. Digging a tunnel is going to be the hard part.” Jayden’s shoulders drooped with fatigue.

“Go get some sleep.”

“I will after I visit my commune.”

“Do you have family living there?” she asked in a neutral tone.

“Yeah. I haven’t seen my mother since I was captured by the Arch Deacons.”

She paused as his comment hit her. Even though she didn’t have traditional parents, even she knew mothers tended to get upset when their children didn’t visit. Did that mean Jayden and his mother didn’t have a good relationship? “You could have visited—”

“I know. Do you need anything else before I go?”

Ah, his mother was a touchy subject. “How would you find someone who is hiding from the prince’s guards?”

“Who do you want to find?”

She explained about the treasure hunters. “I think Aphra might still be in Zirdai, but I don’t know how to find her.”

“I can ask the vagrants to keep an eye out for her. They’re usually in the same places as those wishing to remain hidden,” Jayden said. “What does she look like?”

Shyla described the young woman. “She usually wears her long brown hair in an intricate knot.”

“All right, I’ll tell the network to be on the lookout for her.” Jayden strode away.

“Jayden, wait,” she called after him.

He paused and glanced back.

“Can you have them look out for Banqui as well?”

If a frown could be wielded like a weapon, he just stabbed her with his. “Do you really think that’s necessary? He’s either gone or living in the wealthy levels where the vagrants don’t go.”

Where Banqui was spending his blood coins, Shyla finished his unspoken thought. Actually she was surprised he hadn’t said it. “Just ask them to, please.”

“Okay.”

Too tired to think anymore, Shyla found an empty room. During her explorations, she learned the commune had a number of guest rooms for visitors and this was one. Orla had ordered her to sleep and she was more than happy to obey.

At angle zero the next sun jump, Shyla and Jayden left the city with the others. They all wore sun cloaks. The white, slightly hairy fabric crafted from velbloud hair protected them from the sun’s harsh rays. A few deacons in their long green robes milled around the exit, studying faces. Shyla kept her hood pulled low, but both she and Jayden used the look away command for extra protection.

They headed in the wrong direction just in case anyone followed them. When they were confident that no one had paid them any attention, they angled toward the temple. Jayden erased their tracks as they walked. Shyla still hadn’t mastered the technique of “moving and smoothing,” according to Ximen.

The cool air smelled fresh and clean after the musty city odors underground. They passed a flock of velbloud. The fuzzy white creatures converged on the caretaker as he set out buckets of feed for them. Their long tethers striped the sand, making a pinwheel pattern. Shyla wondered how they managed to avoid getting them all twisted together.

She held a special fondness for the animals since they’d saved her life. Caught topside during the killing heat, she’d been desperate enough to wrap two tethers around her body as the velblouds floated into the sky. They had lifted her above the dangerous hotness. After the velblouds had reeled in their tethers and descended, the monks had found her lying almost dead among the creatures. If Zhek hadn’t been at the monastery, she’d have never survived.

“Shyla?” Jayden asked from a couple meters away.

She’d paused to watch the flock without any conscious decision to do so. Her thoughts about the monks reminded her of another concern. “Do we need to keep the torques to protect our people?”

He moved closer. “What do you mean?”

“Are there others in Zirdai who can wield magic? People we need to shield ourselves against?”

“Oh.” He considered. “No.”

Thinking of Mojag, she asked, “How can you be so sure? How many people have magic?”

Jayden pulled up his hood against the strengthening sunlight. “From what I’ve learned, only a small number of people have the potential to wield magic. But, of those not everyone can tap into it.”

“Is that why the Invisible Sword doesn’t test everyone, only those who show potential?”

“That’s right.”

“How do you know who has the potential?”

“One way is bloodlines. Certain families have the skill and they pass it down. Gurice inherited hers from her grandmother. In my family, my grandfather and my father could wield magic. My sister was tested, but failed.”

Questions about his sister pushed up her throat, but the scowl that arrived when he mentioned her warned Shyla to keep quiet.

Jayden continued. “Those that seek out the monks tend to have the ability. Hanif has sent us a few candidates.”

“What does he see in them?”

“An open mind, being flexible in their thinking and not set in their ways. Confidence. Intelligence. Resourcefulness.”

All great qualities. “But not everyone you test taps into their power, right?”

“Right.”

Memories of being chained in the dark threatened to overwhelm her. “Why do you have to test them? Why can’t you explain about the magic and teach them how to do it?”

Jayden huffed in amusement. “Even though the candidates are open-minded, all of them would think we’re insane. I believe a certain sun-kissed didn’t believe in magic even after she witnessed it and successfully wielded it. Then again, she wasn’t that open-minded to begin with.”

She refrained from punching him. “Then why did you test me?” she shot back.

“You have all the other qualities. And you fought back when Payatt took you through the sands.”

Still. There had to be a better way to wake a person’s magic. “Isn’t there another way?”

“Yes, there are plenty of ways, but they’re cruel. Stress and fear are the triggers. When people are pushed to the breaking point, they tap into that inner spark of survival. Our way allows the person time to experiment and then we’re there to teach them.”

Not many people were in those dire situations. “The people in the prince’s special rooms are terrorized.”

“And some of them do access their magic. But, unfortunately, they don’t know how to use it and no one survives the torture.”

“What about the deacons’ confession rooms? Those people live through it and are forced to become deacons. Do some of them have magic?”

“It’s possible,” Jayden said slowly. “Although we haven’t heard any rumors.”

“Might be why the Heliacal Priestess started having her Arch Deacons wear those torques.”

“An interesting theory. We don’t know when she stole them, or even if she did. It could have been one of her predecessors who passed them along. Or Banqui could have discovered their location and sold them to her.” He frowned.

Jayden suspected Banqui had betrayed the Invisible Sword by telling the priestess’s Arch Deacons where to find their hideout, but he had no proof. Shyla’s new information from Fadey would support his suspicions. However, she just wasn’t convinced it’d been him so she didn’t share it with Jayden. Not yet. Instead, she asked, “Who had the torques before they were stolen?”

Jayden gazed at the rolling sand dunes. “The Invisible Sword leaders.”

Good thing they didn’t have The Eyes as well. Shyla debated whether she should press him for more information about the old leaders. Instead, she considered his comments about magic. “What about Mojag?”

“What about him?”

“I think he’s using magic, but he hasn’t been through the test.” Nor would he or anyone since the “testing cavern” was part of the old hideout and off-limits.

“That’s ridiculous. Mojag hasn’t shown any potential.”

Really? She’d thought he’d be an ideal candidate. “Then explain how he followed you to the Invisible Swords’ hideout. Explain how he’s so good at avoiding people and getting around without being seen.”

“I’ve been training him. Most vagrants are adept at hiding from the guards and deacons. It doesn’t mean they have magic.”

She wasn’t convinced, but she didn’t want to fight about it. They’d been having a perfectly civil conversation. It was nice.

“We should go. The velbloud caretaker has noticed us standing here,” Jayden said.

“You go on to headquarters. I’m heading to the monastery.”

He frowned. Shyla waited for him to figure it out.

“You’re giving them the torques.”

“For now. It’s the safest place. If we think the priestess is using magic, we’ll get them back.”

“That’s a good idea,” he said.

Was that an actual compliment? Shyla didn’t let it go to her head. They walked together for a bit before Shyla headed south. Without Jayden, she had to stop every ten meters, turn around, and erase her boot prints. It wasn’t ideal, but it worked.

When she was within a kilometer of the monastery, she slowed. At least a dozen monks would be on the surface, blending in with the desert and keeping watch for any visitors. Not many people could spot them, but since she’d grown up with them and had taken her turn as sentry too many times to count, she noticed them.

This time she wondered if she could slip past them unseen. Plus she needed the practice. The look away command would work, but she’d have to smooth out her tracks with every step. Sleep might work, but when the monks woke, they’d be alarmed. Gone required more energy and they had to see her first, which would ruin the fun.

Reaching out, she sensed the hidden monks in the distance. Before she crested the next dune, she pushed her will forward.

Look away.

Then she pushed it back to her tracks.

Return.

When she reached the top she spied a number of monks.

Look away.

Return.

Then she went down into the shallow valley and up another dune.

Look away.

Return.

And repeat.

It was slow going. After two more dunes, she spotted the single-story structure that marked the entrance to the monastery. Unlike Zirdai’s colorful surface buildings, it was unremarkable, blending in with the surrounding desert. Only its straight lines gave it away as unnatural and man-made.

Four monks were stationed around the entrance and one was on duty inside. Shyla thrust her will toward all five, and they suddenly found various other areas of the desert very fascinating.

The pace was brutal, draining her energy with every step. But she was determined. By the time she entered the building, she dripped with sweat. The rectangular space contained only one bench. Large windows had been carved into the walls. Velbloud curtains hung limply, covering them. Sitting cross-legged on the bench was a monk, the official greeter to those seeking solace or shelter or directions—it was easy to get lost in the desert. Like all the monks, she wore a tunic, pants, and dillo leather boots. Everything matched the color of the sand. The monks stationed in the desert also wore turbans and veils to protect their skin from the sun.

Shyla didn’t recognize the monk, but that wasn’t a surprise. The children raised in the monastery didn’t spend much time with the majority of the monks. Not until they turned eighteen circuits old and took the oath, pledging their loyalty to Parzival and the King of Koraha. Even after all this time, Shyla still wasn’t sure who exactly Parzival was. The monks worshipped the Sun Goddess, but Parzival must be the founder of the order. There were other monasteries throughout their world and all within a few kilometers of a major city. Not to teach or aid the people—what a radical concept—but to keep an eye on them as the King’s spies.

Slipping past the greeter, Shyla descended the stairs into cool semi-darkness. She relaxed, releasing all those monks from her magical hold. When she reached the monastery’s receiving room on level two, she sat on the floor, taking a few angles to recover. Unless she spent the rest of the sun jump here, she wouldn’t have enough energy to sneak past the monks on her way out. Guess they’d just be surprised to see her.

The monks embraced the sunlight and they’d installed long mirror pipes throughout the monastery to bring the light from the surface to the depths. Warm golden light shone in the area set aside for visitors. It appeared they weren’t expecting visitors this sun jump, as normally a couple monks stood guard in here, ensuring no one wandered into private areas or tried to enter one of the four Rooms of Knowledge. They protected knowledge like a miser hoarding coins. Shyla never understood why. Everyone should have equal access, but you had to be a monk to enter those rooms—with one exception. She was allowed to enter two.

Once she regained some of her strength, she headed down to Hanif’s office on level eleven. She used the look away command on the few people she encountered. Influencing one person seemed easy compared to the twelve on the surface.

Hanif’s door was ajar. She’d never seen it closed. Voices drifted from the opening. The conversation went from an undecipherable murmur to clear speech as she neared. She stopped outside, debating whether she should wait here or retreat to give her father some privacy. As she backed away, she caught a snippet of the discussion.

“…Water Prince is not pleased,” said a familiar male voice.

She froze and tried to place the voice. Its deep timbre stirred fear in her heart.

“It’s not my concern if the Water Prince is pleased or not,” Hanif said.

“It should be. Especially if he decides to withhold your water rations.”

“The King would not be pleased by your threat, Captain.”

Clamping a hand over her mouth, Shyla blocked her gasp. Captain Yates! The man who had replaced Rendor as the prince’s captain of the guard. What was he doing here?

“By the time the King learns of your hardship, it will be too late,” Yates said. “Just tell us where the sun-kissed is and we’ll stop bothering you.”

“For the fifth time, Captain, I do not know where she it.”

“I do not believe you,” Yates said.

An irritated sigh. “You’re welcome to search the monastery. If you find her, we will not interfere.”