On Fire’s Wings (23 page)

K
evla had not resisted when Halid and the others had hauled her away from Tahmu; she had been too stunned by his words to resist. They literally threw her into her room and slammed the door. She looked around her tiny room, and for the first time was glad that she struggled for space on a floor that was crowded with tools. Most of them were dulled with use, but she sat down next to an old scythe, maneuvered it into position, and began to cut her bonds.

It took time, and the sun moved across the sky. Kevla continued; time was nothing to her now. At last the ropes fell free. She rubbed her hands to bring life back into them and assessed her situation.

Kevla knew she was no
kuli.
What she had always known was that others would fear her abilities if they knew of them. If only she'd been thinking! She could have dropped a pot to create a distraction and then “accidentally” knocked over the poisoned food. But she had not thought, she had reacted on instinct, and tomorrow, she would pay the price.

She studied the door. It was made of wood. If she could send a bolt of flame leaping from her fingers that could ignite a table, the wooden door to her room should be no challenge. Then again, she would probably simply trap herself in the room and burn to death, or choke on the smoke. She knew she could start a fire, and could see through it; she feared fire was not friend enough to leave her flesh unscathed.

Besides, where could she run to? Tales would spread of the
kuli
in woman-shape. How would she live? She could not go to Jashemi; he had a family now, and if he took her in, they would call him
kuli
-cursed.

As she thought about him, tears welled in her eyes. She had never gotten to say goodbye to him. She wiped the tears away angrily. Crying served nothing. Kevla got unsteadily to her feet and looked out the window. In the dying light of the day, she could see the pyre being built, and watched with detached interest as piles of wood began to appear. There was a platform and a long pole in the center.

It didn't seem real. She simply seemed unable to fully comprehend that tomorrow she would be tied to that pole, smoke filling her lungs, heat assaulting her, flames licking her body—

Unbidden, her mind went back to the time when she had just arrived at the House, when she, Yeshi and Tiah had gone to the market and the
kuli
-cursed man had approached them. She remembered the rush to gather wood for the fire, how Yeshi had been willing to pay for it in order that the man burn quickly. Then, Yeshi had been acting to protect her; now, the great lady of the House of Four Waters was doing all she could to condemn Kevla. They were taking their time, in order that a huge crowd would have time to assemble. Kevla thought of the man, rushing at her. Had that beggar truly been cursed by demons, or was he as innocent of taint as she? She smelled again the stench of burning flesh and suddenly her stomach heaved.

Kevla turned away from the window and covered her mouth, willing herself not to be sick. She crawled to a corner of the room and sat there, drifting into an uneasy slumber as night came. For the first time since she began to bleed from her
sulim,
she did not dream.

She was startled awake by the sound of the door opening. Halid stood in the doorway, his massive frame almost filling it completely. He sneered, and for a moment she felt hatred blaze inside her. He entered, followed by three other men. Kevla extended her hands for them to tie. Halid's gaze flickered from her chafed wrists to the bits of rope to the old scythe. The other men seemed surprised at her calmness, but Halid just looked irritated.

“Come,
kuli,
your death awaits you.”

“I do not fear death,” Kevla lied.
Don't show your fear, Kevla. Don't give this dog anything to hold over you.

“You'll be begging for it by the time the fire has burned away your feet,” Halid said. Kevla's stomach clenched, but she forced her face to reveal nothing.

The sun was bright and Kevla squinted against the glare. Halid prodded her with the tip of his sword and she stumbled on the steps, catching her balance awkwardly.

A huge crowd had assembled to watch her execution. She guessed there were well over a hundred, perhaps double that. There had been time for the news to spread, and clearly as many as could had come to watch the
kuli
burn. Such executions served as warnings to the people, to prompt them to honor the ways of their traditions, to never stray from the path.

Again, Halid prodded her, and she walked slowly toward the pyre. She climbed up the short ladder to the platform. It was tricky, as it was difficult to use her hands. She stumbled more than once and would have fallen had not one of the guards caught her. He seemed startled at his instinctive reaction; no doubt he suddenly remembered that she was a
kuli
and merely touching her could be dangerous. She gave him a quick smile, and saw emotions warring on his face.

At last, she stood atop the platform. Halid had come up behind her and was now tying her to the pole. He cinched the ropes unnecessarily tight, and as he bent over her to check the knots, she whispered, “I know about you and Yeshi. You won't get away with it.”

He looked at her and laughed. “Brave words, but empty,” he said. “Jashemi is gone and you will be dead soon.”

“If I'm a
kuli,
” she challenged, “how do you know I won't destroy all of you? How do you know I won't escape?”

He grinned, showing white teeth. “You're not a
kuli,
” he said. “I don't know what you are, but you're not that. A
kuli
would never have let itself get caught in such a foolish manner.” He pulled the last rope so tight that the air went out of her in a
whoosh,
knotted it, and left without another word.

Kevla searched the crowd for Tahmu, thinking even now that somehow she could warn him and that he might believe her. Finally she saw him. He was dressed in white, his arms folded across his chest, regarding her. He was too far away for her to make out the expression on his face, but she didn't need to. The position of his body told her enough. Any pleas she might have made died in her throat. Tahmu-kha-Rakyn had made his decision, and in ordering her death, had sealed his own.

Tears stung her eyes and she blinked them back, realizing that it only made those about to witness her murder more excited. She swallowed hard and tried to stand as erect as possible. She had had so little dignity in her life; she would at least meet death with it.

Tahmu's voice drifted to her. “It is our law, that all
kulis
and anyone who has been influenced by them shall be put to death by the cleansing fire. Kevla Bai-sha was witnessed creating fire from her own hand, and attacking the
khashima
with the demonic flame. Kevla has been
kuli
-cursed at the very least, if she is not an actual demon herself. We honor the traditions of our people, and the laws of our Dragon, as today we witness her execution. Let this serve as a reminder to all to obey the Dragon.”

Did she detect a tremor in that powerful voice? No, it must have been her imagination. Her gaze traveled to Yeshi, standing beside her husband, and she felt a faint petty pleasure stir as she noticed that Yeshi's hands were bandaged.

Yeshi was trying hard to look fragile and worthy of sympathy, but Kevla was not fooled. This was her day, her victory, and Kevla knew she and Halid would be celebrating.

Kevla looked out into the crowd, desperate to find a kind face, and her eyes met those of Sahlik. The older woman looked ancient, and her eyes were red. Kevla smiled sadly. At least someone would mourn her passing.

Four men approached with lit torches, and the fear she had thought dulled sprang to life. Futilely, she squirmed against her bonds, found them far too tight, and sagged against them.

This is my fate. This is my destiny. Great Dragon, I still don't know who I am.

The wood was dry, and the fire well-prepared. It lit almost at once. Tongues of flame licked upward, and Kevla felt their heat. Smoke began to rise, engulfing her in a black and gray cloud. Through the smoke she could see orange and red flames beneath her. The wooden platform beneath her bare feet began to grow hot, then it, too, erupted into flames.

 

The
sa'abah
was exhausted. It had been running for a full day and night with only infrequent, brief breaks, but Jashemi was merciless. Something was happening to Kevla, and every heartbeat was precious. He too was exhausted, but fear flooded his veins and kept him going.

They were almost there. The riverside and the road to the House were oddly deserted, adding to Jashemi's apprehension. The beast grunted in protest, but Jashemi would not ease up on it. It surged up the hill, through the open gates, and into the packed courtyard of the House of Four Waters.

Jashemi cried aloud at what he beheld.

Kevla was tied to a stake in the center of the courtyard. Flames leaped around her, so high and so smoky that he could barely see her body.

“Douse the fires!” he shrieked, sliding off his mount. “I order you, douse the fires!”

But no one obeyed his orders. His own father's guards seized him and shouted into his ear, “The
kuli
must burn!”

Jashemi was not a weak man, and his terror for his sister gave him added strength. He wrested his arm free from the guard and started pushing his way through the crowd. Two more guards slammed into him, knocking him down. He surged up, startling them, but their grip on him was firm. He used every fighting technique that Halid had taught him, but could not break free from three guards.

There was a mighty crackle from the deadly fire, and a new sheet of flame leaped skyward. The cheers of the crowd swelled gleefully, and Jashemi finally realized with a slow, sickening horror that he had arrived too late.

“No!” he screamed, coughing from the smoke, “No!
Kevla!
” Tears filled his eyes and streamed down his cheeks. He sagged forward in the guards' grip and fell to his knees, sobbing. Whether from pity or contempt, he did not know or care which, they released him.

While the crowd around him celebrated and the deadly fire crackled as if shouting a victory, the
khashim's
son knelt in the dust, lost in his rage and grief.

Kevla…Kevla, I should have kept you safe….

Suddenly, the crowd's shrieks of delight fell silent. Shaking and wiping his wet face, Jashemi looked up.

The flames were beginning to die down. He could see through their red-orange curtain, expecting the agonizing sight of a charred skeleton. Instead, impossibly, Kevla stood untouched atop the blackened branches and logs. Even as he watched, her clothing twisted and burned, turning black and dropping off her unharmed body. She seemed as surprised as the crowd to find herself alive.

For an instant, Jashemi was so dizzy with relief that he could not move. Kevla lifted her head, stared at the crowd—and their eyes met.

“Jashemi!”

It was the sweetest sound in the world. Jashemi leaped forward like an arrow shot from a bow, rushing toward his sister. He struck and pushed his way through the press of people. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw two women carrying full earthenware water jugs, staring slack-jawed as Kevla strained against her bonds. As he raced past the oblivious pair, Jashemi grabbed the jugs and hurled them onto what was left of the pyre. The water splashed the hot wood and hissed. Everyone seemed too startled by what they had just witnessed to try to stop him.

Kevla struggled with the burned remains of the rope, and just as he reached her she pulled the last blackened coil free. He stumbled on the burned branches that cracked and gave beneath his weight and she caught him before he fell. For an instant they clung fiercely to one another. Then Jashemi whirled, grasping Kevla by the hand. He felt the remaining heat start to scorch his sandals and breeches, and held his breath against the choking smoke. He looked frantically for a mount, knowing his was too exhausted to continue. If he did not find one—

He spied a
sa'abah
on the edge of the crowd. It wore the livery of the House of Four Waters and probably belonged to one of the guards. Jashemi and Kevla sprinted for the beast.

The crowd was starting to recover from its shock. Tahmu's voice rang out and Jashemi faltered for just an instant.

“Stop, Jashemi! Return the
kuli
for punishment! It is the law!”

He clenched his jaw and kept running. The law and everyone who would enforce it be cursed. He would die before he let anyone hurt Kevla. At the same time, he felt a stab of pain as he realized that his father had authorized this, had likely ordered it; had spoken the words that would send his own daughter to the flames.

Father, how could you?

They barely made it to the
sa'abah
before strong hands clapped down on Jashemi's shoulders. He let go of Kevla, who quickly scrambled atop the animal.