On Fire's Wings - Christie Golden [27]
The man cried out. “Great lady, I implore you, I am not kuli-cursed! My visions are true, they are sent from—”
Yeshi’s men again turned on him and this time when they stopped, the man had been beaten unconscious. Kevla kept swallowing, grateful that she had only eaten a few bites of the honeycake, struggling to keep even those few bites from coming back up. Yesterday, she had watched a man being devoured by a river creature. Today, she would see another man burn to death.
Nothing in Arukan was more feared than the kulis, unless one considered the Great Dragon himself. But the Dragon was honored and revered, and his laws protected his people and kept them on the right path. The demons who lurked in the caves at the foot of the mountains and who haunted one’s dreams had no hint of goodness about them. To attract the attention of one, to become then cursed, was a fate that made being burned alive seem like a blessing.
“It will be done, my lady,” continued Yeshi’s man. “Do you wish it now, or shall we wait for the morrow?”
There was only one reason for waiting. When a kuli-cursed was burned, it was important for as many people as possible to witness it, so that they would be reminded of how dreadful it was, and would be on their guard. Yeshi looked around at the sea of people in the marketplace.
“There are many here to witness,” she said. “Do it now.”
Bahrim lingered with Yeshi, offering his consolation for the traumatic encounter.
Precious as wood was in a land where trees grew only by the few nurturing waters, everyone at the marketplace was anxious that the cursed man be destroyed as quickly as possible, lest they, too, become victims of the kulis. The vendors offered their stools and chairs, which were broken into pieces. Dried grasses, used to feed the animals, were offered for quick kindling. Yeshi smoothed the sacrifice by tossing coins for the proffered wood. Before Kevla quite realized what was going on, a pyre had been built outside the market area and the unconscious beggar, bound hand and foot, doused with lamp oil and with a rag stuffed into his mouth, was hurled atop it.
“Death to demons!” someone shouted, and the chant was taken up: “Death to demons! Death to demons!”
Someone grabbed a torch and lit the pyre. Kevla looked away, but Yeshi’s hand closed on her wrist. Kevla gazed into the hard eyes of her mistress.
“He wanted to drag you and Tiah into his madness,” Yeshi said. “He could have tainted both of you, accused you, too, of being demons. Then you and Tiah would be on that pyre with him. It is well that he is punished quickly. Watch, Kevla. Watch and remember this day.”
Kevla couldn’t imagine that she would ever forget it. Reluctantly, she raised her head and watched as the fire consumed the body. Thick, acrid smoke, laced with the stench of burning flesh, scalded her throat and made her eyes water. She heard the shouts and cheers of the crowd as their fear was assuaged, and she was grateful that the guards had beaten the poor, deluded soul senseless before they burned him.
Please, Great Dragon, she prayed silently, please don’t let this happen to anyone in the House of Four Waters.
Chapter Six
Yeshi and her entourage returned to the House of Four Waters subdued by the incident. The handmaidens prepared their mistress for bed, and what little conversation there was, was brief and spoken in low tones. Yeshi did not ask Kevla to stay with her again. Kevla retired to the room she shared with the other girls and prepared for sleep in silence. While she didn’t expect that Tiah and Ranna would ever become her friends, the fire that had fueled enmity between the handmaidens and the newcomer seemed to have been extinguished. It was as if Tiah felt that being included in the madman’s raving with Kevla made problems between them less important.
Days turned into weeks, then months. Kevla adapted to being around so many people and grew used to the unpredictability of serving Yeshi. While each day began