The Drowning City - Amanda Downum [84]
Jabbor waited in the shadow of the wall, apparently unhurt. Zhirin thanked all the waters silently. She breathed in the smell of his clean sweat as he took her in his arms, salt and cedar and drying rain.
“What happened?” she asked, pulling away sooner than she would have liked.
“I went to the execution.”
She folded her arms under her chest. “Why?”
“Because it’s our right to speak out, and what use is that if no one will? If the Dai Tranh had tried talking before burning, things might be different.”
“You could have been killed!”
He shrugged. “I nearly was, and the Khas wasn’t the worst of it.”
She turned away, paced to the edge of the fountain. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You would have worried.”
“And I wasn’t worried today, hearing the bells and not knowing what happened? Listening to criers say you were dead?” Her voice rose, and she forced it down again. The fountain choked and gurgled.
She drew a breath, exhaled the scent of damp stone and cinnamon. No use in being angry about it now. Instead she propped a knee against the fountain, damp soaking her trousers as she dipped a hand into the water. Only a fraction of the Mir’s rush and depth, but it still soothed her. The problem was easy to find—a buildup of sand and clay in the narrow pipe. A bit of pressure, a gentle push, and the debris broke apart and washed away. The fountain gave one last hiccup, then began to splash rhythmically again.
Jabbor smiled, shaking his head. “Sometimes I forget what you can do.”
She sighed. “Everyone does, don’t they? That’s what I’m good for.”
“I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “I don’t mean it that way. I know how you’ve helped us. I know what you’ve risked.”
“Not all of it, you don’t.” She cut him off. “First, tell me what happened today.”
“I went to the execution to speak, but the Dai Tranh came too. They started shooting and everything went to hell. They attacked your foreign witch too. She escaped with us, then left with her own people. I’ve heard rumors about deaths and kidnappings, but I don’t know what’s true or not, yet. None of the Tigers were hurt. I saw the mage al Seth fall, but I don’t think he’s dead.”
She thought of Asheris swallowing an inferno and shivered. “No, I suspect he’s hard to kill.” She scrubbed her wet hand against her thigh. “I found out what’s happening with those diamonds.” Her eyes darted toward her mother’s windows again, and she didn’t look away until she was done telling him about the diamonds, and her mother, and Jodiya’s threats. As she fell silent, the midnight bells began to toll—once, twice, thrice, deep and solemn.
“Ancestors,” Jabbor swore when the last echo died. He caught her arm, tugged her gently into the shadows. “Come with me. The Tigers can keep you safe. We can be in the jungle before dawn.”
Zhirin succumbed to temptation for a moment, leaned her head against his shoulder and let his warmth soak into her. “I can’t.” She straightened, stepped back. “Not tonight. I have to meet Isyllt tomorrow.”
“Zhir—Leave it. At this rate her supplies won’t come in time and the city isn’t safe. The Dai Tranh and the Khas will be after her.”
Her jaw tightened. “Then she’ll need my help, won’t she?”
“This isn’t a game!”
“No.” Her chest tightened at his expression. “Was I ever a game piece to you?”
He opened his mouth, shut it again. “Not at first. When I first saw you, you were a pretty girl, a girl I wanted to walk with, to flirt with. Then I found out who you were, and…yes. Yes, I thought of what you could do for us, and decided it was worth the risk. But I swear, Zhir, I won’t use you. I won’t be like the Khas that way, like the Dai Tranh.”
She stretched onto her toes to kiss him. “I believe you. But I’m still staying. You don’t have anyone else to overhear Faraj’s plans.”
“I’m sorry I underestimated you.”
She flushed. “It’s not