“Marek called the tomato by the wrong name,” I said suddenly. Remembering. “A week after I came to the keep, I saw you two in the kitchen. He asked you to pass him an oota. Omalians call tomatoes ‘tamatim.’ I thought it was strange, and I kept a close eye on him for the next month. I heard him call a slew of vegetables by other names. Lukubi, Orbanian, Nizahlan names for vegetables. He said Yuli was making him practice for the visitors who come on market days. But he was just trying to cover, wasn’t he? He was trying to cover the very first slip.”
Sefa forcefully clapped the dust from her hands. Her face was unreadable. “The corpse will be more challenging to carry after it stiffens. We should go.”
You have been so preoccupied with your own secrets, you did not bother to see theirs, Hanim murmured. Pathetic.
I wanted to drag Sefa back and shake her until the truth fell out. If what I suspected was true… but no, I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. The lives we led before reaching Raya’s keep were not discussed. As long as their secrets couldn’t harm me, I would not ask. Curiosity was always repaid in kind.
Marek had done a commendable job turning the lines of the wound jagged and uneven. We scattered rocks into the open meat of the body. Hopefully by the time they found the soldier, the fish would have made quick work of the exposed skin flap.
The run to the river felt eternal. I carried the front while Marek and Sefa supported the rest of the body. The trees closed around us eagerly, the ground dipping lower with every dozen steps. I spotted Marek shuddering. The deeper we ventured into Essam, the more it felt like the teeth of a beast too vast to comprehend were closing around us.
We stopped only twice to catch our breaths, all too aware of the crisp morning breeze and pinkening sky.
Sefa began to sing, her warbling voice covering the squelch of our footsteps. “The Awaleen came sight unseen, to survey the empty land. Abound, abound!”
“Sefa, please,” Marek groaned. I didn’t recognize the melody, but he clearly did.
“Above the hills and valleys to the west, Kapastra laid her crown. Mother of Omal, Beast Tamer of blue, abound!”
“She won’t stop,” I warned Marek. My boot went through a rotted log. Crickets exploded from the hole, hopping over my leg. Their indignant chirps joined Sefa’s incessant tune.
“Beam of beauty, sharper than ruby, Baira, Baira, Baira,” Marek intoned flatly. “To Lukub she took her light, abound, abound!”
“Battle beat in Dania’s bones, and in Orban she sang its bloody song. Abound, abound!”
A cricket jumped onto the corpse’s cheek. I watched it crawl into his nose and grimaced. I could predict what came next in the song. Or rather, who didn’t.
In the early days, the four original kingdoms—Lukub, Omal, Orban, and Jasad—had been flush with magic. Nizahl came after the Awaleen’s entombment, created to arbitrate peace between the other four kingdoms. But the centuries passed, each taking a little more magic with it, until only Jasad’s magic remained. Nizahl’s armies grew, scaring Lukub and Omal, even battle-hungry Orban. But not Jasad. Not even Nizahlan armies stood a chance against Jasad’s unassailable fortress.
At least, they shouldn’t have.
To my surprise, Sefa’s song continued, albeit softer and more reserved. “Rovial heard the hum of Jasad and gave his soul to keep her awake. Abound! Abou—”
“Quiet.” I stopped walking and listened. There it was, the best song of them all—the gurgle of Hirun. We broke through the trees, skidding to a halt at the edge of the riverbank.
“Oh,” Sefa breathed. “I have never seen Hirun with its banks so far apart.”
Hirun wound through every kingdom like a mighty serpent, sustaining life across the land. In some areas of Essam, the river stretched no wider than a tree trunk. Here, the opposite bank of Hirun was at least half a mile away. The full moon’s reflection rippled on its dark surface.
“I’ll take him.” Marek rolled the body down the riverbank, mindful of his weight on the damp earth. He grunted as he carried boulders to place around and beneath the body.
I could feel Sefa’s gaze boring into the side of my head. “Can I ask you a question?”
My teeth hurt from grinding down the answer I wanted to give her. “I suppose.”
“Why did you need to break his back? Isn’t a broken neck enough to make it seem like he slipped?” Sefa asked. I could hear only curiosity in her voice, but I still paused before responding.