On Fire's Wings - Christie Golden [98]
“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