The Drowning City - Amanda Downum [59]
Xinai hesitated, but Riuh was right—the old woman looked exhausted and moved stiffly. “You could use Cay Lin.” She waited for Shaiyung to offer protest, but none came. “It has walls, if nothing else,” she went on. “Even a few roofs.”
Riuh made a warding gesture. “But the ghosts—”
“I’m not afraid of ghosts,” Selei said. “But the Khas soldiers are, and everyone knows the ruins are haunted. A good idea.”
Xinai tried to ignore the warm rush of pride. It was sacrilege, but she doubted any of the Lin ancestors would begrudge their allies a little succor.
They rolled the blankets into their packs, took rations of salt pork, cassava root, and fruit leather from the blind’s stores, and descended the hill to the village. Xao Par Khan, Selei had named it, one of the dozens of tiny communities that dotted the forest, away from clan-seats. The Khans, like the Lhuns, had lost lands to the Empire, but had never been slaughtered wholesale like the Lins and Yeohs.
Xao Par sat in one of the myriad narrow valleys that fanned away from the mountain, a collection of simple wood-and-thatch buildings beside a rain-swollen stream. Children were already out tending plots of yams and lentils. The pigs had finished dying by the time they reached the outskirts. Dogs barked as they approached, rusty brindled beasts the same color as the mud. Soon some of the villagers leaned out their doors.
“We’ve come from Cay Xian,” Selei called. “I need to speak with your elders.”
A few moments later an old man emerged, leaning on a young woman’s arm as he descended the steps of his house.
“Xians.” He glanced at Riuh’s kris-knife, at Xinai’s daggers. “You’re the ones calling yourselves the Hand of Freedom, aren’t you?”
“We are. The Khas’s soldiers have driven us from Cay Xian.”
The old man cocked his head, eyes glittering beneath sagging lids. “And you’ve come here for help.”
“That’s right. We need food, shelter. If any of your warriors wish to join us, we would welcome them.”
“There are no warriors here. Only farmers and woodsmen. And certainly not murderers.” He lifted a curt hand when Selei tried to speak. “I know what it is your people do.”
Selei lifted her chin. “We fight for Sivahra. A free Sivahra.”
“A Sivahra watered in blood. We want no part of your cause, and we won’t harbor murderers. The Khas leaves us in peace here, and we intend to keep it that way.”
“How long do you think that will last? How long before they decide they need your land, or need your children in the mines?”
“They’ll decide that much sooner if they find you here. Go on—take yourselves back to Xian lands. We want none of you.”
Selei’s eyes narrowed. “As you wish.” She turned, shoulders stiff, and waved Xinai and Riuh toward the jungle. When Riuh would have protested, she cut him off.
“No. It’s their decision.”
As they walked, she glanced over her shoulder and whispered something Xinai couldn’t hear.
“Go on,” Selei said. “The sooner you find that mine, the better. I wish I could go with you, but I’d only slow you. I’ll wait for you in Cay Lin.”
Riuh stooped to kiss her cheek. “We won’t let you down, Grandmother.”
The air chilled, prickling the back of Xinai’s neck. She looked for Shaiyung, but saw nothing except a light mist curling across the ground.
“Selei, what’s happening?” Tendrils of fog writhed toward the village.
“They made their choice, child. You should go. Don’t turn back, whatever you hear.”
“But what—”
“Go. There’s nothing left here you need to see.”
Xinai hesitated, but Riuh caught her elbow and steered her gently toward the path. Gooseflesh roughened her arms and legs as the cold intensified. They were deep into the jungle when she heard the first scream. Riuh stiffened but kept moving. She tried to pretend it was only another pig.
Chapter 12
Zhirin paced. Her head was still achy and muddled from crying, and movement didn’t help, but she couldn’t sit still. Every time she did, the images caught up with her: blood in the water, drowning screams, Vasilios’s black and