Hearts in Zenith (Four Husbands and a Lover)

5. Like Night and Day

Narami's surviving children fled to the North, where the humans worship the Bhutas as readily as we worship the Divines to this very day.

While everyone clapped and pursed their lips at the thought of the Bhuta-loving Northerners, my fingers crawled to my hip. I swear, they basically did it on their own volition. Like they were a spider. The prayer to Indara, They of the Lies and Passions, formed on my lips, but I found Parneres with my eyes. I jerked my hands into my lap and re-directed my prayer to another Divine. Gala, Thee of the Wisdom and Healing, save me from temptations. Actually, hold that thought. Save me from one of them, coveting another woman's riches. Please, and thank you!

***

I regretted my virtuous deed after I had returned to the Deadhead Company's compound.

The guards ate the dates eagerly enough, but the Captain-Commander had not returned from the palace that night.

"Maybe it's good news for you," Miccola told me with a wink. "Maybe there's a war brewing with someone. Maybe we'll need the foot soldiers then."

"I doubt it," I answered sourly.

Queen Zinaida worshiped Gala, They of the Wisdom and all the other commendable things. Fortified by faith, Her Majesty's womanly wisdom kept her navigating the turbulent affairs of the Patchwork Courts, the border disputes with the Haida of the steppes and the intrigues of the Southern Empire with legendary agility.

"I reckon Your Captain Commander should move the headquarters and hire the Deadheads to a different ruler if she wants wars." Because, that's what I would do.

Miccola grinned. "Why don't you teach Her Maxima how to lead her Company?"

I scoffed. "Where am I wrong?"

"So you figure it's better for the Company to return our fat retainer, break faith with the powerful Queen, and go risk our necks in the jungles and deserts?" Miccola rolled her shoulders. "I so miss sleeping on the cold ground under the canvas!"

"Good is the enemy of the best," I muttered. "Wars are how a woman wins her fortune."

Miccola must have had no good reply to that, because she just repeated, "Come tomorrow, brat."

I sucked my teeth. "I'm sick of hearing that. I'm not leaving."

"Suit yourself." She waved he halbard at me. "Only, we're going off duty in an hour. The night shift is all consisting of sour-skirts. They won't understand eager recruits the way we do."

***

Miccola was right.

The night guards cussed me out, then just about trussed me like a sow. The sour-skirts threatened to hand me--their future sister-at-arms!--to the City Watch the moment the curfew bells rang. I twisted away from their rough hands and ran like a Bhuta out of the Naktimyana.

Down the street my sandals pounded, until I skidded and dove into a sidelane. The darkness of Yansara's night and armored women chased after me. I ran and ran. Their footfalls and jingling of armor pounded in my ears, competing with my heart. Finally, it was just my heart.

In the street of mud-brick houses, squished into a corner made by the junction of the Divine's and the Golden Canals, I stopped and listened in. There was no sign of pursuit. The houses around me were nice. They tempted me with the smells of cooking. Unfortunately, their owners were suspicious people who kept their doors shut and their windows—shuttered with solid wood after the curfew bells.

The shadows blackened. The whispers and desolate moans wafted from the back lanes. Dogs howled like wolves, then got cut off sharply, and that was even scarier. The night denizens of Palmyr, far more dangerous than I could have imagined in the daytime, haunted the night streets, eluding the Watch.

I crept to the embankment, looking for a place to sleep.

Under the Humpback Bridge, glowing violet eyes and dark figures cursed me out, but I was already backpedaling from there. The heavy smoke from their pipes was cloying. I didn't know by scent if it was the Ashanti herb or something cheaper and less sinister, but I ran from the magics faster than I did from the Watch.

If I wasn't a run-away from the Temple of Gala, I could have gone to one of the Queen's shelters. But our healers, doing their rounds, would have spotted me there and dragged me by the ear back to the Head Priestess and my false destiny. Of such an outcome I was more afraid than I was of the night.

Finally, as I descended toward the wharfs, I spotted an empty alcove in a crumbling wall to crawl into. My chest heaved in relief. Despite the disappointments, today was the brightest day of my life. Or so I told myself as my eyelids grew heavy, shutting off the satin sky.

I didn't ask myself why this comfy hole was empty as I should have. I just closed my eyes and prayed to the Divine of the Night Sky. Yansara, please send me the dreams of Parneres to shorten this night.

I imagined him like he was on the stage, dancing lithely. His tattoos glittered against his black skin, like his body was a starlit sky. Beautiful beyond imagining.

Alas, it wasn't his slender hand that clapped over my mouth and nose. I'd imagine his hand to smell of honey. The hand that stifled my alarmed cry, stunk of decay. Knobby knees dug into my chest and belly, suffocating the life out of me, but I wriggled, trying to shake off my assailant.