The Midnight Sea (The Fourth Element #1) (3 page)

“Are you a recruit as well?” I asked.

“Novices wear the grey,” he said. “My name is Tommas.”

“You’re a Water Dog then?” I asked, confused.

His eyes, the green of a spring meadow, darkened a fraction. “Yes.”

I was opening my mouth to ask why he didn’t wear the red when Ilyas strode into the stables.

“I see you’ve met my daēva,” he said to me, ignoring Tommas entirely.

I took a step back. I couldn’t help it. His
daēva
? I’m not sure what I expected. Horns and a forked tail, perhaps. A creature as ugly on the outside as it was on the inside. But they looked just like us.

Tommas nodded to Ilyas and led the horse past us out to the courtyard. He moved with a startling grace despite his infirmity. Like an animal. A predator. Ice touched my spine.

“Let’s see what you’re made of,” Ilyas said. “Take a practice sword from one of those barrels.”

I’d never held a sword before, not even a wooden one. It was heavier than I expected.

“Get your feet apart,” Ilyas said. “Right leg forward.”

I did as he ordered. Several of the serving girls had paused in their chores. Half of them were watching Tommas saddle the horse. The other half were laughing at me behind their hands.

“Blade up,” Ilyas said.

I lifted my sword and he slapped it aside with his hand.

“Up and steady!”

I raised it again, and this time held it firm when he tried to knock it from my hands.

Ilyas took his own practice sword from the barrel.

“Today, all I want you to do is keep that in your hand,” he said.

I nodded, muscles tense. A moment later, my sword was flying through the air. Ilyas had flicked his wrist as casually as swatting a fly, and suddenly, my sword just wasn’t there anymore.

“Pick it up,” he said calmly.

I picked it up.

Again and again, he disarmed me. Again and again, I picked up the sword. The girls were laughing openly until Ilyas walked over and said something too low to hear. They scattered like a flock of chickens.

By the time the sun was setting, I could hardly lift my arms. But I refused to quit. Ilyas wouldn’t break me so easily. I was Four-Legs Clan.

When he saw I was on the verge of toppling over, Ilyas clapped me on the back and smiled.

“You did well, Nazafareen,” he said. “I’ll see you in the fire temple for morning prayers. They’ll feed you in the kitchens. I left some novice tunics for you in the barracks.”

I nodded, suddenly too tired to speak. As I trudged toward the palace, I wondered what my family was doing now. Probably sitting around the fire, laughing and talking while the dogs begged for scraps.

I’d given Ashraf’s puppy to some distant cousins. I couldn’t stand to look at it. If I’d just let her keep the cursed thing, my sister would still be alive.

Chapter Four

I
t soon became clear that almost everyone at the satrap’s compound considered me a savage. I wasn’t accustomed to eating at a table, and my clumsy manners were a great source of entertainment for the serving girls. They pretended to sniff the air when I entered the kitchens, then turned their noses up in disgust. I had never realized the contempt most people had for nomads.

The only ones who treated me like a human being were Ilyas and Tommas, and the magus. The other Water Dogs spent most of their time on patrol and I saw little of them at first. Eventually, I managed to keep the sword in my hands while Ilyas battered me, but the first few weeks were sheer misery. Every night, I dreamed of Ashraf. Sometimes it was my knife in her neck. Those dreams were the worst, and I would wake shaking in the darkness of the empty novice barracks.

Clearly, my sister had an axe to grind.

So I would light a stub of candle while I waited for the dawn (trying to sleep again was useless) and I would vow to her that I’d do whatever it took to earn my place in the Water Dogs. To start killing Druj. But Ashraf had never been patient—she was only seven, after all—and I knew she would hound me until I made good on my promise.

It didn’t take long to learn my way around the satrap’s sprawling complex. There were two sets of Water Dog barracks, one for daēvas and one for humans. The servants had their own quarters, as did the harem. The fire temple, where I prayed with Ilyas in the mornings, was a simple stone structure on the east side of the gardens. Our faith held that fire was the holiest element, followed by water, and then earth. The flames symbolized the light of wisdom banishing the darkness of ignorance.

Ilyas would kneel next to me, eyes shut tight, lips moving silently. There was a strange intensity to his prayer, as though he sought forgiveness for some perceived sin, although his behavior seemed in all respects proper, if a touch rigid.

“The world is in an eternal struggle against good and evil,” he would say to me. “But the most important war is fought here.” Ilyas would tap his chest. “It is not the barbarians, nor even the Druj, that we must fear the most, Nazafareen. It is the enemy within.”

I would nod and pretend I knew what he was talking about. Did he mean the daēvas? Being bonded? Or just the temptations of sin in general? All of those things? Several times, I nearly asked, but something in his grey eyes held me back. As though Ilyas would be terribly disappointed in me if I failed to understand.

I hoped that the afternoons I spent with the magus might clear up my confusion. I knew almost nothing. My people lived an isolated existence and the larger workings of the empire mattered little to us. So I would sit in my hard chair while he lectured me on politics and history and other subjects too boring to name. The only time I perked up was when he discussed the daēvas. They fascinated me in a shivery way, like panthers viewed through the bars of a flimsy cage.

“Only the Immortals—the King’s personal division of the army—use daēvas as a large fighting force,” the magus said. “The satraps have a small number for their Water Dogs, but not too many. The most powerful and wealthiest merchants are permitted one or two. Daēvas equal power, Nazafareen. If the satrapies had their own armies, they might consider rebelling. The King can’t risk that.”

“What about the magi? You said you were bonded too.”

“I was.” He looked out the window. “Some of us choose the bond, but not all. Fewer now. Most magi fear the taint too much.”

I wanted to ask why he wasn’t bonded anymore, but it seemed an impertinent question and for once, I managed to keep my mouth shut.

“Why don’t they try to break free?” I asked instead.

“It’s impossible. If a daēva so much as touches the cuff of their human bonded, they will suffer severe pain. Punishment can also be inflicted directly through the bond if the wearer wills it. But all our daēva soldiers have been raised in the light. We’ve trained them to overcome their wicked natures.”

“But you still don’t trust them,” I said. “That’s why they’re cuffed.”

The magus smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yes. They are still Druj. The bond doesn’t change that.”

“Are they Undead? Like the wights?”

“Not Undead. Not human either. Something else.”

I thought of Tommas. He seemed so
nice
. “How do you know they’re Druj then?”

“They fought on the side of the Druj,” the magus said stonily. “They fear fire. They have unholy powers. What more do you want?”

I considered what I knew of the Undead. Some said liches were the souls of murderers, or of human-daēva offspring that had been abandoned to die of exposure. Whatever they were, a single touch would kill. Revenants were some kind of soldier. They had been the most feared in the war, after the necromancers, because of their strength and size. They were the main force of Neblis’s army.

And wights…Well, I knew about wights. Their substance looked something like liches, but they knew how to creep inside a person. They didn’t kill with a touch. What they did was worse. Before people knew the signs—those black almond eyes, for one—a single wight could turn an entire family in minutes, each killing and infecting the next. Whole villages fell in this way.

But the daēvas were
alive
. They talked and ate and laughed like the rest of us.

“I don’t know. Where do they come from? What did they do before the war? Did daēvas always exist?”

He tapped a finger impatiently. “We seem to be straying from the point of this lesson. No doubt they came from the same place as the rest of the Druj.”

“Where’s that?”

“Bactria, of course.” The magus leaned forward. “If you are to become a Water Dog, you need to be very, very clear about what you are dealing with. I understand that the daēvas you see now are the ones we’ve raised in the Way of the Flame. But their fundamental natures are deceitful, impure. That is all the word
Druj
means, Nazafareen. It is not some kind of…” He fluttered his hands. “…scientific classification. We are speaking of the soul. The main thing you must remember, above all else, is that you must always hold the leash tightly, unless you are in danger. Always.”

I thought about this for a moment. “But they
can
kill Druj? I mean, the Undead kind.”

“Oh, yes.” He smiled at me, pleased to be back on familiar ground. “Greater Druj, like Revenants, must be beheaded. In theory, a human can do it, but it’s very difficult. The same for Lesser Druj like wights. But liches? Their substance is shadow. They must be unknit with air. Only a daēva can accomplish that.”

“When I’m bonded, will I have that power too?”

“No. But you will hold your daēva’s power in the palm of your hand. He cannot touch it without your consent.” The magus made a fist. “When you need him to use it, you just…open your hand.” He let his fingers relax.

“I think I see. When will I get my daēva?”

The magus sighed. “Not yet, Nazafareen. You still have a lot to learn. I might consider it in another year or two.” He waved a hand. “You can go to your chores now.”

I started for the kitchens, my feet dragging. Another year of scrubbing pots and dodging blows from the cook while the household maids shot me poisonous looks. One of them had spit in my breakfast that morning but I saw her do it and knocked the bowl to the floor before she could hand it to me. The cook had wanted to beat me. Then some of the harem girls came in asking for sweets and distracted him long enough for me to slip away. But I knew he hadn’t forgotten.

I decided that I would risk being late and getting a worse beating to stop at the barracks and ask Ilyas if he would let me serve in the stables instead.

His door was open. Ilyas stood by the window, watching Tommas spar with another daēva in the courtyard. They were both soaked in sweat, their movements a blur almost too fast for the eye to follow. I made a small noise so Ilyas would know I was there. He spun around, an almost guilty look on his face. It softened when he saw me.

“Nazafareen. Do you need something?”

“Yes. I don’t want to work in the kitchens anymore.”

“Why not?”

“They treat me like I’m a barbarian.”

Ilyas stiffened.

“I don’t mean any offense,” I said hastily. “You’re not…”

“A barbarian? No, but my mother was.” He fingered his red-gold hair. “I have her look, although my father is Satrap Jaagos.”

He said this lightly, as though it didn’t matter. I never would have guessed. The noble women of the palace wore veils, but I’d seen the satrap’s wife in the gardens. She had long, dark hair. No one in all of Tel Khalujah had Ilyas’s coloring.

“Your father is the satrap?” I said carefully.

“He brought me back with him after one of the campaigns in the Middle Sea. Against Eskander’s father. I was just an infant.”

That name again. “Who’s Eskander?”

Ilyas laughed. “Hasn’t the magus been teaching you anything?”

I tried not to sulk like a child at his dismissive tone. “Things about the daēvas. Some history and geography. I’m learning the names of all the satrapies, and their capitals. What goods they produce.” I scuffed my toe on the floor. “I don’t really see the point. I’ll probably never leave Tel Khalujah.”

Ilyas studied me. “You think it doesn’t matter?”

I shrugged, sensing one of my captain’s lectures coming on.

“How about Macydon? Ever heard of it?”

“Um…One of the Free Cities?”

“Their enemy, actually. And ours now, as well. Eskander of Macydon is the new thorn in the King’s side. Rumor has it he’s offered sanctuary to any daēva who manages to escape the empire.” Ilyas pulled his boots on. “He’s a heretic. If Eskander has his way, we’ll all be food for the carrion birds.”

The thought was disturbing. “Will he try to invade?”

“At the moment, he’s busy snapping up Athens and the other Free Cities. But it’s only a matter of time before his eyes turn east.”

“What about the Immortals?” I said. “We have ten thousand human-daēva pairs in the capital. Nothing can stand against them.”

“Likely not,” Ilyas agreed. “And he’s a pup. Just eighteen years old, I hear. No doubt luck and the advice of his father’s generals have been behind his victories.”

Ilyas strode out the door. I had to jog to keep up. “So will you let me switch to the stables?”

He looked at me sharply. “You wish to work under Tommas?”

“I don’t care who I work under,” I said truthfully. “It’s just that I’d prefer to be with animals. The serving girls and the cooks hate me and nothing I do can change that.”

Ilyas paused and I saw sympathy in his expression. It occurred to me that he knew what it felt like to be an outsider. To be despised for the way you look.

“I’ll see that it’s done,” he said, stalking into the practice yard and grabbing a spear from the rack. “Tommas!” he shouted.

Ilyas’s daēva wiped the sweat from his forehead and walked over. Summer had come to Tel Khalujah, and it was much hotter than I was used to in the mountains. There was a place we used to swim in the river, a deep pool with rocks you could jump off. I imagined my brother and the other kids laughing and screaming, the sublime moment of weightlessness before the water rushed up and grabbed you, and felt a stab of homesickness.

“Nazafareen is switching to the stables,” Ilyas said. “I expect you to make her useful.”

Tommas nodded. “You can start today, if you like.”

“I’ve cared for horses before,” I said quickly. “I won’t get in your way.”

“It doesn’t matter if you can’t tell the front end from the back,” Ilyas snapped, irritated. “He’ll do it because I told him to do it.”

I felt awkward, but Tommas didn’t seem offended by his tone. It wasn’t the only time I’d seen Ilyas go out of his way to chastise his daēva. At best, he was coldly polite. At first, I thought that all Water Dogs were expected to act that way. The daēvas were Druj, after all. But then I saw the others in the yard, joking easily with their bonded. Clearly, Ilyas had some grudge against Tommas. Or perhaps he just felt the need to hold himself aloof.

“Come by in an hour,” Tommas said to me with a smile.

As he limped away, Ilyas’s eyes followed him, and for some reason, his words came back to me in that moment.

It is the enemy within we must fear the most, Nazafareen
.

And so Tommas became the first daēva I ever grew acquainted with. He turned out to be as easygoing as Ilyas was stern. I already knew how to saddle and groom a horse, so he put me to work straightaway. At first I felt shy being alone with him, but he kept up a gentle patter of questions about my family and life with the clan, and soon we were speaking like old friends. That may sound strange, considering that he was Druj. But I knew that he couldn’t touch his powers without Ilyas’s consent, and although Tommas was inhumanly strong, I could see from the way he treated the horses that there was kindness in him, whatever the magus said about his soul.

Tommas told me that he had grown up in the islands of the Middle Sea, keeping the wind steady for merchant traders. When his ship, the
Antikythera
, was attacked by wights, Tommas showed an affinity for combat, killing half a dozen Undead at the tender age of nine. His owner thought he might be suitable for the Water Dogs, and Tommas had fetched a high price from the satrap. He had been bonded with Ilyas since he was ten, Ilyas twelve.

It was Tommas who told me that Ilyas’s mother was not only a barbarian, but a Macydonian, like Eskander.

“That must be hard,” I said, as I brushed down a long-legged piebald mare.

“He was singled out for ill treatment by the other children when he was younger,” Tommas agreed. “But once he became a Water Dog, they knew better than to cross him.”

“Does the satrap acknowledge him as a son?”

Tommas glanced up at me from the water trough he was filling with a bucket. “He told you about that?”

“Just today.”

“Yes, Jaagos has treated him decently.”

“Why is he so mean to you?” I blurted out. “Ilyas, I mean.”

“You’re very plain-spoken,” Tommas said with a wry smile.