It was Iktan, and this was the last place she’d expected to see xir. She caught a glimpse of a guard’s face before the door closed, and then Iktan was moving back through the camp, as if xe had not just been inside the Great House doing who knew what.
Iktan had given no sign that xe knew anyone in the inner circles of the Great House, and certainly not that xe could ask favors of a guard. If she had known, she could have gone directly to xir.
“Hey!” she called.
She thought she saw Iktan look in her direction, but instead of acknowledging her, xe ducked xir head, sped up, and disappeared into the crowd.
“United in common cause,” she growled, “I think not.” She laughed at herself. She had been so concerned that Iktan might think she was a spy that she did not see the true spy right under her nose. But what kind of spy conspired with someone inside the Great House and then had to be sneaked out? She had a nose for deceit, and she sensed it now. She needed to know what Iktan was hiding.
She hurried after xir, her chase leading her to the north end of camp, past Uncle Kuy and the sleeping mother and daughter and toward the latrines. Interesting. Clearly, Iktan wasn’t returning to play pilgrim at their common fire. So where was xe going?
“Ho! You, there. In the blue!” She turned to see two Carrion Crow guards coming her way in a hurry. Had Iktan told them she was a fake? Had xe reported her as a foreigner, despite earlier assurances that xe would not?
Xiala had a well-earned distrust of authority and a strong desire not to spend any more time in a jail cell. It was enough to keep her moving in the direction she thought Iktan had gone and avoid the guards who had called out for her. She tried to lose herself in the crowd once she came to the latrines, weaving between stalls and out the back, skirting the edge of the cliff. She came around the far end of the ditch just in time to catch a glimpse of Iktan heading down a staircase.
Stairs? Where could they lead but over the side to the river below? Did she dare follow there? Maybe it would be better to face the guards. She had no proof they wished her ill. She laughed at herself. When had things ever gone well when someone was shouting for her and trying to run her down? Following Iktan was the only option that felt like freedom.
The staircase did run down the side of the cliff face to the river. The steps were wood and looked none too sturdy. Wind buffeted her, blowing her hood back, and she could see below her the small caps of the Tovasheh peak and fall. She took a deep breath, said a prayer to her Mother, and stepped out onto the first landing. The wood creaked beneath her weight, but she didn’t let herself stop to think about it. Twelve steps down to the next landing, and then down the switchback, and again.
She caught a glimpse of Iktan’s cloak and sped her descent. She called her Song to her throat, just a hum. But what used to be a comfort now made her anxious. What if she killed someone again? Someone innocent, as she had at the Convergence, because she couldn’t control it? She let her power recede and pushed herself to catch up, but she was slow, her legs still aching from being on land too long, and Iktan was very fast.
She took the next flight, and the next, pausing once to look up and see if anyone followed. No one above, but there was someone below in the river. A boat. One of the smaller river crafts Aishe had called a skimmer, meant for traveling back and forth across the Tovasheh between districts. Two figures manned the boat, pulling it up next to no more than a pile of planks lashed together to form a makeshift floating pier at the bottom of the staircase.
That boat was for Iktan, she knew it. She also knew that if she didn’t catch xir now, she would never see xir again. She willed her legs to move, less concerned with stealth than with speed. She took the corner, fingers only grazing the rail, and was practically airborne when arms grabbed her and slammed her against the rocky cliffside.
Rock scraped the back of her head, and she gasped for air. The sharp point of a knife pricked her chin, and a familiar songlike voice whispered, “Careful, Xiala of the Teek. Your next words determine if you live or die.”
She froze, eyes wide and breath stuttering.
“Following me was incredibly foolish,” Iktan whispered, mouth against her ear. “Tell me why you did it.”
“I saw you with the Shield.” She panted, eyes on the knife at her neck. “I need to know what you told them.”
“Why?”
It was a simple question, and she could have said half a dozen things that might satisfy Iktan and save her life, but all she could think of in the moment was one: “Because I can’t lose him again.”