The City of Zirdai by Maria V. Snyder

Nine

“Tell me again what we’re doing here?” Jayden asked for the fourth time.

“We’re going to rescue the people being tortured inside that chapel,” she whispered with annoyance. Granted, she’d woken him up and yanked him from his cushion, but still…

They crouched in a shadow on level fifty-one, watching the chapel. It was angle three hundred. Two deacons stood guard outside. Since no one dared to attack a chapel, they were more for show. However, the deacons were quite capable of defending themselves. Plus they all carried knives.

The rest of her team waited in a nearby tunnel. Orla had recruited a number of vagrants to aid Shyla. They all could fight, but their main job was to free the victims and take them to the commune for medical care. Shyla and Jayden would tackle the deacons.

“What about Arch Deacons?” Jayden asked. “Any inside?”

“I’ve no idea.”

“What about torques? Do they have any?”

“Don’t know.”

Jayden closed his eyes a moment. “Your plan…”

“Sucks, I know.”

“Then why are we here?”

“We’re helping for a change. If you want to sit this one out, go—”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he snapped. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“All right.” Shyla straightened, took off her wrap, and strode toward the chapel. It didn’t take long for the two deacons to notice her, and less for them to spot her short blond hair.

“The sun-kissed!” the one on the left yelled, pointing.

“Give the man a prize,” she said. “Gather your people. I’m going to make a confession.” Shyla entered the chapel, crossed the nave, and entered the back hallway that led to the confessionals.

The deacons trotted at her heels, calling to the others. She kept a brisk pace despite wanting to stop and help those suffering inside the rooms. More and more deacons joined them and soon Shyla had quite the parade.

When she reached the end of the corridor, she spun around, holding out her open hands to show she was unarmed. The deacons all stopped as well. Six of them stared at her. Behind them, the vagrants and Mojag rushed into the rooms to free the occupants. Jayden waited with his knife drawn in case she needed him.

Gathering her power, she made eye contact with each one. None wore torques. Although, after this, she doubted the priestess would make that mistake again. And none were Iskemu, the deacon who’d backhanded her and cut off her hair. She made a silent promise to get him next time. Then she pushed her magic toward all of them.

“The Sun Goddess has sent me here to commend you on your efforts,” she said.

The deacons preened.

“She applauds your ability to rehabilitate so many lost souls. You’ve done such a good job there are no more souls that need your dispensations and you’ve released them all.” Shyla mustered her strength and targeted each deacon. She caught a glimpse of Mojag carrying a bloody child from one of the confessionals. Heat built inside her as her fury grew. She channeled it toward the deacons. “In fact, if you harm another person in the Sun Goddess’s name, you will suffer as well. You will feel unspeakable pain as if your soul is on fire.” The words seared the air and her throat burned.

Jayden glanced at her in surprise. She’d no idea where that came from or if it would work, but she was too angry to think clearly. The desire to stop their hearts pulsed within her. But she remembered her orders not to kill another unless it was in self-defense.

Instead, she dragged up the last of her energy and commanded them.

Sleep.

They dropped like a ceiling during a cave-in. Unfortunately, so did she. Jayden hurried over and helped her stand.

“What did I tell you about using all your energy?” he asked, wrapping her arm around his shoulders.

“Not to do it.” The chapel spun around her.

“It was a rhetorical question. Come on.”

“But…the people…”

“Are being helped by the others. We need to get out of the city before the next shift of deacons shows up.”

They climbed to the commune on level thirty-nine and rested. She gulped a glass of yellow-colored water that Zhek handed to her before rushing to tend to the others. He’d mixed a restorative in the liquid. At least she hoped that was what tinted it yellow and not his sleeping drug. Good thing Zhek had returned from the monastery in time.

While she caught her breath, Jayden and Mojag gathered the supplies they’d purchased. They said goodbye to Orla, who thanked them.

“Feel free to spread the rumor that it was the Invisible Sword and not you,” Shyla said. “I don’t want you to experience any backlash.”

“Don’t worry about us, dear. We’ve handled worse.” Orla shooed them out. “Better hurry.”

They only had twenty angles to ascend thirty-nine levels. It was doable in most circumstances, but this wasn’t one of them. Shyla soon lagged behind. Jayden tried to help her, but her legs wouldn’t last long. If he had to carry her out, they’d draw too much attention.

“Go,” she said when they reached level twenty-three. “Take Mojag and get to headquarters.”

“No.”

“It’s not a request. And look for Aphra, she might be waiting near the north exit.” Shyla described the woman.

“Why would she—”

“I’ll explain later.”

“I’m not leaving you.” Jayden crossed his arms—the universal sign of male stubbornness.

“I’ll find a place to rest. Don’t worry.”

“You can’t protect yourself if you’re passed out.”

“I’m going to collapse right here if you don’t stop wasting time. It’s an order. Take Mojag and go.”

“You’re not in your right mind. I’m not—ah hells.” Jayden looked over her shoulder. “What are you doing here?”

Huh? Now who wasn’t in his right mind?

“I’ve got her. You go,” Rendor said from behind her.

She spun so fast she ended up on the ground. Peering up and up, she met Rendor’s gaze. She was so happy to see him that she didn’t mind the pain in her hip from the fall.

Jayden cursed. “I thought that was you tracking us.”

Rendor had been following them? She must have really depleted her magical energy.

Jayden sighed, then said, “Stay out of sight. There’s going to be deacons searching the city for her and stationed at all the exits.”

“She’ll be safe,” Rendor said.

“Make sure she’s back at headquarters by the next sun jump.”

“Only if she’s recovered and it’s safe.”

Jayden grunted. “Come on, Mojag, we need to hurry.”

The boy gave her a wide-eyed look before following Jayden.

Rendor crouched down next to her. “We have to stop meeting like this.”

Oh no, he didn’t get to tease her. Not after leaving her like that and not letting her explain. Despite being glad to see him, Shyla punched him on the arm, but the blow was weak. She opened her mouth to demand he explain why he’d left.

“Not here.” Rendor pulled her to her feet. “Can you walk?”

“It depends.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Yes, it is. Are we going up, down, or lateral?”

“I can carry you.”

She crossed her arms.

“Fine. It’s two levels down and half a klick south.”

“Then, yes, I can.” She gestured for him to lead the way.

They walked in silence. Rendor adjusted to her pace as it changed from slow to lumbering to a painful trudge. The tunnel’s walls and floor softened around her. When had her legs become so heavy? Perhaps she’d been overly confident about her energy level.

“We need to keep moving,” Rendor said.

Huh? She had stumbled to a stop.

“This isn’t the best spot—”

“Then go. I didn’t ask for help.” She didn’t have the strength to glare at him even though a part of her acknowledged she was the one behaving badly.

He growled, then dipped down, swept her off her feet, and threw her over his shoulder. “We don’t have time for this, either.”

She squawked in protest, but he ignored her. Soon his smooth and silent ground-eating strides lulled her to sleep. A change in movement roused her enough to note she no longer hung off his shoulder. Instead a softness cushioned her prone body. A fur being pulled up to her chin was the last thing she remembered.

When she woke, she was comfortable, warm, and alone. Disappointment seared through her over that last one. A druk glowed with a reddish light, illuminating the small room that barely contained the sleeping cushion. Her pack rested on the floor next to her. Sitting up, she dug for her water skin. Her sore muscles complained, but the bone-deep fatigue was gone. After gulping enough water to un-shrivel her tongue, she found a roll of jerky and ate it without really tasting it—a good thing.

Her thoughts swirled. What was she going to say to Rendor? During all those angles searching for him, she’d been too focused on the hunt when she should have been composing an…apology? Yes. An apology.

The food and water revived her further. She clambered from the cushion—an uncoordinated and graceless endeavor. A newborn gamelu gained its feet with more aplomb. Granted, she was unused to the cushion’s extra thickness. She paused. Her thin sleeping mat at the temple was pathetic in comparison. Not much of an enticement for Rendor to return. And why the sudden focus on a cushion? Because it was easier than facing Rendor.

A narrow opening connected this room to another. She crossed through it. This one contained a couple cushions to sit on, a low table, and a trunk with a sand clock sitting on top. It was angle one-eighty—she’d slept the entire sun jump. Two druks hung on the wall. A rough stained-glass door meant there were no more living spaces. Nowhere else that Rendor could be. She peeked out the door just in case he was standing guard. The tunnel was dimly lit and two distant figures headed toward her. Their voices echoed. She ducked back inside before they spotted her.

She wondered if this was his place or if he was squatting here. It was bigger than her tiny single room on level three when she’d been a legal citizen.

With nothing to do but wait, Shyla considered her apology. But soon her thoughts turned dark. What if Rendor didn’t return? Now she fretted. What if he was injured? Or he was caught? She couldn’t do anything to help him. Not yet. And she needed to leave at angle zero; staying in Zirdai any longer would be too dangerous. A million horrible scenarios played out in her mind.

To keep from obsessing over Rendor, she considered what had happened in the chapel. She hadn’t planned on commanding the deacons to experience pain if they hurt another person, but the sight of that child had triggered such fury that she considered ending all their lives. Wished it. Would the temptation to force others to do her bidding grow until she no longer thought it was wrong? Was that what had happened to Tamburah? He hadn’t started out as a despot. Had the power of The Eyes corrupted him? Or had they given him the power to do what he longed to do all along?

She sighed. Why couldn’t anything be simple? Was it too much to wish The Eyes came with instructions that made sense? Right now, she felt as if she were stumbling around in the dark, hoping not to slam into a wall. Same with Rendor. What was she supposed to do in this situation? She’d never cared for anyone like this and it appeared she’d already ruined it.

What if he didn’t want to talk to her? He had to know she’d try to convince him to return to the Invisible Sword. Or what if he thought she wouldn’t, and he was saving himself the pain of another rejection? Or he was truly done with her? She hadn’t even thanked him for helping her!

Seven hells. She’d rather be fighting an Arch Deacon than twisting herself into a giant knot of what-ifs. Eventually she burned through her energy. Putting the sand clock next to the sleeping cushion, she lay down. The blasted thing was so damn comfortable. Would Rendor choose a cushion over her?

A light knocking woke her at angle three-forty. She was halfway to the door before she realized Rendor wouldn’t knock. Her next thought—deacons!—was also dismissed. They’d pound on it or break the door down. Same with the guards. Cautiously, she cracked it open.

A young boy around twelve circuits old stood there. He was a bit grubby but not a vagrant.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“I’ve a message for you.”

Oh no. Her heart shriveled. “Wait, please.” She grabbed her wrap and covered her hair before letting the boy inside.

He gazed at her. If he noticed her blond eyelashes and eyebrows, he didn’t react. “I’ve been paid to guide you to the surface,” he said. “We should leave now in order to get there by angle zero.”

“Who paid you?” Shyla lowered her shield to read his thoughts. This could be a trap.

“Some big guy. He said to tell you that this is for the best. And for you to stop looking for him.”

The boy told the truth. The desiccated thing in her chest crumbled, leaving behind a huge emptiness.

Shyla had only a vague memory of the trip to the surface. The boy was good at avoiding other people and he didn’t say a word the entire trip. He pointed down a tunnel, said it would lead to an exit, and disappeared.

When she exited the tunnel, she encountered a few others heading toward the surface. She joined them, tagging along near the back. No one gave her a second glance…or even a first glance. But the two deacons standing next to the exit studied each person intently as they passed.

Slowing down, Shyla craned her neck to get a better look at their throats. Scorching hells. One wore a torque. Just her luck. She couldn’t use her magic to slip by them unnoticed. Well…she could for one of them if she had enough energy. A quick plan took shape and she targeted the unprotected deacon, sending an image.

The sun-kissed.

The sun-kissed.

The deacon on the left cried out. “It’s her!” He lunged forward, grabbing a man who was a few paces in front of her. “I’ve got the sun-kissed!” Yanking the poor man’s hood down, the deacon tightened his grip on the guy’s shoulders.

“Are you blind? That’s not the sun-kissed,” his partner said.

“Yes, it is.”

“No—”

The sun-kissed.

“Watch out. She has a knife!” He pulled his dagger.

“No. Stop, you idiot.”

Shyla skirted the two grappling deacons and sent a silent apology to the man she’d used. Striding along one of the well-used paths to avoid leaving footprints, she stopped the image when she was a safe distance away. Then she ducked behind a dune to catch her breath. That little deception cost her. And she doubted it would work a second time. Once the two deacons figured out what had happened and reported it, the priestess would change tactics.

Even though she was tempted to head straight to the temple, Shyla took a more circuitous route. The effort to smooth out her tracks became a test of her will. The sand grains resisted and moved with a heavy reluctance each time she stopped.

Her tunic was soaked with sweat when she arrived at the temple. The early angle crew were clearing sand. Gurice dumped her bucket and intercepted Shyla before she reached the entrance.

“Where’s Rendor?” Gurice asked.

A sharp pain ringed the empty spot where her heart had been. “He’s not coming back.”

Gurice was smart enough to avoid asking why. Instead, she squeezed Shyla’s arm in support. “His loss.” She returned to work.

When Shyla entered the common room on level eight, Jayden was at a table with Aphra. She considered it a win that the treasure hunter had decided to join them. As she approached, Jayden glanced behind her as though expecting Rendor to be there. His gaze returned to her and he studied her expression. He too was smart and didn’t question Rendor’s absence or celebrate it.

“I was explaining the rules to Aphra,” Jayden said. “Which shift do you want her on?”

“None of them.” Shyla plopped onto a cushion opposite the woman. She made eye contact, gazing into her golden-brown eyes. “Are you committed to helping us?”

“Yes,” Aphra said.

The truth. “Good. I’ve a job for you.” Shyla dug into her pack and removed the map to Gorgain’s crypt. Smoothing it out on the table, she pointed to the grave diggers’ tunnel. “This will lead you right to the crypt. I need you to recover his crown and ruby torque. Can you do it?”

Aphra studied the scroll. “With the right equipment.”

“We have people, shovels, buckets, and pulleys.”

“How many people?”

“Twenty.”

“We can’t spare anyone,” Jayden said. “We—”

Shyla shot him a quelling glare. “This is a priority. We’re running out of osees.”

“What about the Water Prince’s decree that no one can dig within thirty klicks of Zirdai?” Aphra asked Shyla.

“One or two of those twenty people will be able to hide your activities from any nosy neighbors.”

She crossed her arms. “Yeah? How?”

Too tired to demonstrate, she cocked her head at Jayden.

“We’ll make you invisible,” he said and then disappeared.

Aphra jumped and gave Shyla a wild-eyed stare. “Where did he go?”

“He’s still sitting there.”

Jayden reappeared. “You’re no fun.”

“That’s one of the reasons we’re called the Invisible Sword,” she said to Aphra, ignoring him.

“Can I do that?”

“No,” Jayden said.

“Why not?”

Good question. Shyla waited.

“You don’t have the potential.” Jayden explained how magic worked.

Aphra studied him. “I’m confident, intelligent, and resourceful. And I’ve been in plenty of terrifying circumstances.”

“You forgot modest,” Jayden quipped. Then he sobered. “I just don’t…feel the potential within you. It’s hard to describe.”

Curious, Shyla pushed him to put the feeling into words.

He shot her a sour look. “It’s a gut instinct.”

She recalled that not everyone who had been tested taps into the power. And Jayden had dismissed the possibility of Mojag having magic rather quickly. Perhaps his gut instinct wasn’t that accurate. “What do you feel when you encounter another Invisible Sword who can wield magic?”

“Probably the same as you,” he hedged.

“Humor me.”

“There’s an instant connection. Like we’re family. But you have to remember, I know everyone who can wield magic.” He paused and glanced at Aphra. “She doesn’t have that essence that makes me think she could be family. That’s what I mean by gut feeling.”

Shyla had experienced a similar bond with the other wielders. But she never picked up on an essence of potential. Then again, she was new to magic. Perhaps she needed to experiment. She scrutinized Aphra. Did she have potential? Was her magic like a locked door inside her, just waiting for a traumatic event to crack it open?

“Are you doing that soul reading thing?” Aphra asked in alarm. “I like you, but I don’t want you to read my innermost thoughts and feelings.”

“No, I’m not. Sorry, just trying to pick up on Jayden’s gut instinct.”

“You know that sounds weird, right?”

“I do. Okay, back to Gorgain. Do you think you can get his treasures?”

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Aphra said.

“Can you do it in eighteen sun jumps?”

“Now we have a problem.”

Shyla tapped the map. “What do you need to get it done in time?”

“More people.”

“There’s thirty—no, twenty-nine of us. Will that be enough?”

“It’ll depend on the condition of the site. Will your people follow my orders?”

“Regarding the dig, yes. If we need to hide from any patrols, then we’re in charge.”

“Fair enough.” Aphra examined the edges of the scroll where a series of ancient symbols marked the geospatial location of the temple on Koraha.

“Do you need me to translate those grid lines for you?” Shyla asked.

“I wouldn’t have been a very good treasure hunter if I couldn’t do it myself.” She winked then glanced at the sand clock. “There should be enough time for me to scout out the temple and mark the entrance to the grave diggers’ escape route.”

“Good. Jayden, go with her.”

“Now?” he asked.

Aphra rolled up the scroll and stood. “Yes, now.”

He wasn’t happy, but he went to retrieve his sun cloak.

Aphra gestured to the table. “They saved some fresh fruit for you.”

That was kind. Too bad she didn’t have an appetite.

“I take it things like fresh food are rare here?” Aphra asked.

“For now. I’ve plans once we earn more coins.” She waited for the familiar frustration to well up inside her, but, with their recent success in freeing those people from the confession rooms, it didn’t push quite as hard. And perhaps doing small rescues or acts of kindness would balance the more mundane tasks like shoveling sand for the rest of the Invisible Swords.

After grabbing a few slices of melon, Shyla headed to her room, needing more time to recover her strength. She lay on her thin mat, intending to sleep, but thoughts of Rendor invaded.

He’d been willing to prove himself to the Invisible Swords before she’d made that stupid speech. She should have kept her mouth shut and let him figure out how to get people for his team. Still, she expected he wouldn’t give up on proving himself so easily. Did he want her to chase after him? Had she given up too soon? Time was a luxury she didn’t have and her first priority should be helping the people in Zirdai—not her love life or the lack of one. So she allowed the hurt and pain and unanswerable questions to fill her until she could no longer hold it in. Sobbing, she curled into a ball, purging all her emotions until nothing was left but grim determination. She’d focus on work and stop wasting time and energy on Rendor.

She woke at angle one-seventy and found Jayden in the common room. “Did Aphra locate the temple?”

“Yes. She already took a crew out to uncover the entrance to the grave diggers’ tunnel. Ximen is with them.”

“Good.”

Jayden scrubbed a hand over his face. “We can’t give her all our people, Shyla. We need to dig a tunnel to Zirdai. Going in and out through the surface buildings is becoming too dangerous.”

“I know. We need to recruit more members.”

“And how are we going to do that?”

“I’ve a few ideas, but let’s wait until Ximen returns. They shouldn’t be too much longer.”

Jayden grunted. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they worked well into the darkness.” Then he leaned back. “If we do get more members, where will we house them? We don’t even have enough room for us.”

A good point. She considered the problem. “Are there any abandoned vagrant communes?” she asked.

“Yeah, but there’s a reason no one lives there—the guards know where they are.”

“Perhaps Orla will rent us some space in her commune. Or she might know a good spot. It’ll only be for a short time.” She ignored his lack of enthusiasm. Instead, she searched for Gurice.

She found her playing a game of dice with Mojag in the room he shared with Jayden and Ximen on level ten.

“That’s two peepers in a row. You’re cheating,” Mojag accused his sister.

“Hardly. It’s all in the wrist.” She demonstrated by rolling another set of peepers. “See?”

He crossed his arms and glared at her. “How do I know you’re not using magic?”

“She isn’t,” Shyla said, coming into the small room.

“Says another magic wielder.”

Gurice threw her hands up in the air. “See? This is why I didn’t tell you about magic. I knew you’d accuse me of using it to influence you. And, as much as I was tempted, and believe me, I was very tempted a number of times, I never used it on you.”

Mojag failed to appear mollified.

Gurice shook her head, then turned to Shyla. “Did you need something?”

“Yes, I was hoping for your help.”

The woman sprang to her feet. “What do you need?”

“You and Mojag.”

They waited for her to continue.

“You can say no. There won’t be any hard feelings or a change in our…friendship.”

“Just spit it out,” Gurice said.

“I want to read your souls and see if I can find out why you have magic and if Mojag has the potential.”

“I thought you already read mine,” Mojag said.

“I only picked up on your surface emotions and thoughts. Nothing deeper.”

Gurice laughed. “That’s about right, there’s nothing deeper.”

“Hey!” Mojag protested. “Is this important?” he asked Shyla. “Will it help us?”

“Yes to both.”

“All right.”

She looked at Gurice who spread her arms wide and said, “I’m all yours. Just don’t blame me if you start having bad dreams.”

In order to have some privacy, they went up to Shyla’s room on level nine.

“Gurice, you’re first,” Shyla said, sitting on a threadbare cushion.

Mojag leaned his shoulder against the wall, watching them.

“Lucky me.” Gurice crossed her legs as she settled on another poor excuse for a cushion, facing Shyla. “What do I have to do?”

Shyla lowered her shield and stared into Gurice’s light green eyes. Or, rather, she tried. “Relax. This won’t hurt.”

“I’ve heard that before,” Gurice muttered, but she released a long breath and met Shyla’s gaze.

Despite Gurice’s bravado and dry humor, the woman was apprehensive about having Shyla read her soul. She liked the sun-kissed, even considered her a good friend, but what if her secrets scared her off?

“I’m not going to uncover all your secrets,” Shyla said, trying to reassure her.

What about her fears about the viability of the Invisible Sword? Gurice worried they’d never return to full strength. Never achieve any of their goals.

“Stop fretting.” All of Gurice’s chatter was blocking her.

“Then stop reminding me that you’re reading my thoughts,” Gurice shot back.

Shyla paused. Was it nerves or Gurice’s magic that prevented her from delving deeper? Perhaps she needed to change tactics. “Imagine you’re standing in the desert, preparing to erase your tracks with magic. You can close your eyes if you need. I’ve already established a connection.”

“Does that mean we’ll be connected all the time?”

“No. After this, I’ll break our link and I won’t invade your privacy without permission.”

Gurice bit her lower lip then touched Shyla’s arm. “If something bad happens like we’re being attacked and you need to…read me, you have my permission. I trust you.”

And with that, Gurice finally relaxed. Shyla briefly covered Gurice’s hand with her own. “Thank you. Now imagine—”

“Yeah, yeah.” She closed her eyes and soon her thoughts filled with rolling dunes. “Got it.”

Shyla let the scene encompass her as well. She stood next to Gurice. One set of footprints marked the otherwise smooth sand. Gurice held a hand out with her palm down.

“Now erase the tracks,” she ordered.

They disappeared, but there wasn’t a change within Gurice.

“Did you wield magic?” she asked.

“I pretended to. I can’t use real magic on an imaginary desert.”

Of course! Shyla bit down on a groan. “Mojag, can you bring that bucket of sand over here?”

He lugged the container and set it between the two women.

Gurice scrunched up her nose. “Uh, that’s not exactly my forte.”

“Doesn’t matter as long as you use your magic on the sand.”

“All right, but you’ve been warned and if sand gets all over your room, I’m not cleaning it up.”

“Noted.”

Gurice reached out so her hand hovered over the bucket.

“Why do you do that?” Shyla asked.

“It helps me focus and aim. Otherwise, I’ll spray sand in your face.” She gave her a pointed look.

“Okay, I’ll be quiet.”

After a few moments, a bright yellow glow filled Gurice as if someone had uncovered a druk lantern deep inside her. The light intensified and filled her, but Shyla only saw it through their link and not with her own eyes. An odd disconnection.

Soon, the sand grains lifted into the air and shifted, forming a…lumpy sleeping cushion…no…a…sand snake that had just eaten a rat? The glow disappeared and the sand sculpture thudded back into the bucket.

Mojag peered at his sister as if seeing her for the first time. “That was cool. But why did you make a dead rat with a really long tail?”

“It was a velbloud with a tether,” Gurice said, sounding offended.

“Clearly.” But Shyla couldn’t suppress a grin.

“Everyone’s a critic.” Gurice crossed her arms. “Was there a point to this exercise?”

“Yes. Did you see a…anything unusual when you used your magic?”

“Other than the sand blob,” Mojag added unhelpfully.

After shooting the boy a glare, she said, “No. Nothing different. Why?”

“Mojag, did you see anything?”

“Just the floating sand.”

“Can you do it again?” Shyla asked. This time she put her shield back in place, blocking both the siblings’ thoughts.

“All right.” Gurice concentrated.

This time a…scroll formed above the bucket. No light emanated inside the woman.

“Jerky?” Mojag asked.

A sigh. “No. It was a shovel.” She released it. “And, before you ask, no I didn’t see anything unusual. Did this help you?”

“I think it did. Now, I just need to test my theory. Mojag?”

“Yes?” His voice squeaked.

“Your turn.” She removed the shield.

He hesitated but then exchanged places with Gurice. Meeting Shyla’s gaze with an almost bold defiance, he braced as if awaiting a blow. This magic thing was still new to him even though he had known Jayden and his sister were hiding things from him. Hurt feelings over not being confided in mixed with jealousy. Figured she’d be able to do magic. Things always seemed to work out for his sister. He knew he shouldn’t be like that—she raised him after their parents were murdered—he was grateful and—

“Mojag, focus on…” Shyla considered. He couldn’t manipulate the sand or influence anyone. But he had other…talents. “Can you slip out of the temple without anyone seeing you?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. It depends.”

“How about you try?”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll follow at a discreet distance.”

“And when I get out?”

Interesting that he used when and not if. “Just come back here.”

“All right.” Mojag scrambled off the cushion and paused by her door.

A faint yellow light shone from him right before he peeked through the curtain. It wasn’t nearly as bright as Gurice’s. Almost as if the druk inside him was only cracked open a hair. Shyla trailed him. Whenever he was in danger of being seen, that thin ribbon of light flared. Completely unaware he was using magic, Mojag left the temple without anyone the wiser.

He returned with a cocky smirk on his face. “That was too easy. Next time give me a real challenge.”

“Are you going to explain what you’re doing now?” Gurice asked.

“Not yet.” She worked with them both until she was able to identify their inner…druk…without having to witness them using magic. Its heavy presence really reminded her of the lantern—it seemed a vital and solid part of them. And then she had to decide what to tell Mojag. Could she open that druk all the way? Shyla wondered what had happened to him to crack it. Perhaps it was the death of his parents.

When Mojag yawned for the third time, Shyla ordered him to bed. Gurice moved to follow, but she asked her friend to remain. She explained what she’d been doing.

“If it’s foolproof, we just added another weapon to our arsenal.” Gurice grinned. “That was worth making a million sand blobs.” Then her smile faded. “Does that mean Mojag doesn’t have the potential?”

“Actually…” Shyla told her about the crack.

“He’ll be thrilled.” Gurice cocked her head. “Though I’m not sure how I feel about it. I’m happy for him but also sad because it’s a burden as well as a gift.”

“And we need to decide what to do about it, and if I should try to open the rest of his magic so he can wield it with intent versus tapping into it unconsciously. I’ve no idea if it will work or what would happen.”

“We should discuss this with Jayden and Ximen,” Gurice said. “I don’t want to hurt my brother, but I don’t want to hold him back either.”

When they arrived in the common room, Aphra and Ximen had already returned from the dig. They sat around a table, talking intently with Jayden. Shyla and Gurice joined them.

“What’s the bad news?” Shyla asked.

“How did you know the news is bad?” Aphra asked. “Magic?”

“No, your body language.”

“Oh. Well, we uncovered the entrance to the grave diggers’ tunnel. About three meters in we hit a wall.”

“A real wall or something not marked on the map?”

“The tunnel collapsed,” Ximen said.

“Can you open it up?” Shyla asked Aphra.

“It’s soft so we can clear it. But, because it’s soft, we need to install extra supports as we go deeper or risk being buried alive. But there’s no way we can reach the crypt in eighteen sun jumps.