18
I wake with a start, beads of sweat rolling down my face, thinking that the palace itself is ablaze. First light streams in from the open balcony. My bedchamber is free of smoke and flames. I touch my face and find that I was mistaken. I’m on fire.
My satchel hangs on my bedpost. I reach for my tonic vial in the front pocket and notice radiance in my hands. I stumble to the mirror glass and gape. My face, arms, and chest are glowing. Dizziness grabs the sides of my head and spins me around. I slump forward, resting a hand over the comb on my vanity. The comb’s silver prongs curl and warp. I cringe away, my mind flashing back to the Burner bending the blade of Natesa’s knife.
Gods’ virtue, no.
I stumble back to my bed and lower myself to the floor. Handling my satchel as little as possible, I dig out a tonic vial. The glass heats in my hand. I pop the cork, and it burns to ash in my palm. My pulse thrashes in my ears. I press the vial to my quivering lips and down the last of the tonic.
Panting, I extend my hands in front of me. The radiance slowly fades, and I slump against my bed. Everything I know about myself disintegrates, like the cork did in my hand. No normal person glows or bends silver combs.
I press my fists to my stinging eyes, and tears slip out. Healer Baka must have known. I bite my teeth down on more tears, my chest swelling with anger. Why did she not tell me? I spent years in a sickbed, yet she never uttered a word. She should have done more than send me here with a formula. She must know what the rajah does to bhutas. She must know what will happen if I am caught.
Shoving away my tears, I stare at the ashes on my palm. Great Anu, what do I do? I have one vial left, enough tonic to last me through the tournament, but then what? I rub my palm clean on my skirt. I cannot do this. I cannot win the tournament and be a . . . What am I? Demon or half-god?
My gaze flies across the chamber to Bhuta Origins, stashed on the bookshelf. I push myself to my rickety legs and fetch it. Sitting cross-legged before the empty hearth, I start at the beginning of the book and thumb through the pages. The same phrases shout out at me. Half-gods. Godly powers. Children of Anu.
In the middle, the chapters break down bhuta abilities by name. I skim over each power, certain phrases hooking into me. Aquifiers possess healing waters. Tremblers hold indomitable strength. Galers hear the secrets of the wind.
I pause on the chapter about Burners.
Burners possess Enlil’s mighty fire. Some even share the fire-god’s golden eyes, though not many. Burners raze the good and the bad, clearing a path for new growth and learning. They are the rarest bhutas, and their powers are the most crucial to control and contain. In their early years, Burners’ flare-ups may be mistaken for fevers. Many inaccurately regard Burners as sickly, and if overlooked, their abilities will smolder until self-destruction. As such, many die before they reach maturity.
I slam the book shut, hands and head shaking. Mistaken for fevers. My gaze rests on my last tonic vial. Their abilities will smolder until self-destruction. At the end of my dosage, my bones feel as though they are on fire. I never considered that they actually were.
Questions strike my mind like lightning bolts. I reopen the book and read on, searching for an answer I fear I already know.
Deven comes for me not long afterward. My face and hands are washed, and I have hidden the ruined comb under my mattress. Though I am still, my mind churns like the base of a waterfall.
“Brother Shaan has come to meet with us,” Deven says.
My strained muscles feel fragile, but I am ready. I drop the book into my satchel, and we set out.
The chapel is on the lower floor of the main palace, tucked into a quiet niche. Deven opens the door, and I step inside. Brother Shaan is bent over in prayer before the altar, where dried herbs and flowers burn, a sacrifice to the gods. His white hair mimics his light robes, his reedy frame stooped from decades of kneeling in adulation.
Deven removes his turban, a sign of respect. His freed dark hair curls at the nape of his neck. I have not seen him without his turban. I try not to think of his wavy tresses as I kneel on a cushion near Brother Shaan.
“Let the sky lead me, the land ground me, the fire cleanse me, and the water feed me,” I say.
Deven kneels on Brother Shaan’s other side and recites the same Prayer of Protection.
“Brother Deven,” says Brother Shaan, “it’s a rare man who is suited to kneeling in prayer and hefting a sword.”
“Brother Shaan, you remember the viraji.”
“Congratulations on your Claiming,” says the brother. “Healer Baka and I are old friends. She was a midwife before she became a healer and was working in the palace when we met. She sent a carrier dove with a message that arrived just before you did to inform me of your arrival.” Brother Shaan’s gaze bounces between Deven and me. “I was intrigued by your message. How may I assist you?”
I slide my hand into my satchel and pause. Bhuta Origins is not a book I should possess, but I would not be here if Deven did not trust Brother Shaan. I hand him the book.
His eyes flare open, and he skims his hand over the cover. “Where did you find this?”
“A Burner may have left it for me.”
Deven straightens in my side vision.
“Do you recognize the title?” I say.
“I used to read texts such as this in the temple vestry,” says Brother Shaan. “I thought they had all been destroyed.” He thumbs through the pages, stopping on the drawing of Anu bestowing the bhutas with his light. “But the truth has a way of shining through the dark.”
“You once had books like these in the temple?” Deven says, tilting his head. “Why?”
Before Brother Shaan can answer, I jump to the question foremost in my mind. “Are bhutas half-demon or half-god?”
“We are all half-demon, half-god,” says Brother Shaan. “The demon half being the mortal side that continually errs, and the godly half being the side that strives to improve. In each life, we endeavor to raise our standing and become closer to everlasting perfection.”
Deven gapes at Brother Shaan as though he has lost all sense.
“But demons don’t progress,” I say. “So what are bhutas?”
Brother Shaan lays a reverent palm on the book. “In his wisdom, Anu created each mortal in the image of the gods. Sky in our lungs, land beneath our feet, fire in our souls, and water in our blood. When the first four mortals achieved the highest form of reincarnation, Anu gave them dominion over these powers. The First Bhutas’ divine path was to help mankind achieve balance between their inner elements through the five godly virtues. They were our Virtue Guards. Mankind has since turned on our chosen guides.”
His words resonate through my perplexity. The more I think about it, the more plausible it is that bhutas received their gifts from Anu. The demon Kur has dominion over the Void but not over fire, water, land, and air. As the Parijana faith teaches, those are godly realms.
Deven touches his temple and closes his eyes. “You’re saying bhutas are good?”
Brother Shaan nods. “Soon after the death of his first wife, Rajah Tarek raided the homes of the bhutas living in Vanhi and executed them. The bhutas defended themselves, and Tarek retaliated with increased bloodshed. He began to exterminate them in droves, and he removed those around him who opposed the war. He raided the vestry and destroyed all records that exalted bhutas above man. In a matter of years, centuries of teaching were lost. I was Tarek’s private counselor at the time.” Brother Shaan’s voice quakes, his gaze dull with regret. “I raised him from a boy. Tarek always had headstrong tendencies, but I never thought . . .”
“Tarek started the rank tournaments around that same time,” I say.
“He blamed the gods for Yasmin’s death. I warned him that those who persecute Anu’s bhutas will bring down the wrath of a falling sky. He refused to listen, and I was forced to resign.”
Deven sits back, thunderstruck. “Why don’t you preach these things to the people if they’re the truth?”
“I swore I wouldn’t. It was the only way Tarek would spare me.”
Deven hangs his head between his knees and runs his hands through his hair.
I take the book from Brother Shaan. “What do you know about the Zhaleh? Did the rajah take it from the bhutas?”
“Yes. Bhuta powers are passed from parent to child,” he says. I force myself to hold his stare, my lungs wrung of all breath. “The record of their lineage is documented in the Zhaleh. This list is an ideal resource for someone seeking to wipe out bhutas.”
“The rajah is using their book of lineage to hunt them?”
“And has done so quite successfully. There were thousands of bhutas in Tarachand seventeen years ago. Those who have not fled the borders are now dead or in hiding.”
Deven lifts his head, his expression cold. “If the rajah wants them dead, why don’t they all run and hide?”
“The Zhaleh warns of a fifth power.” With Bhuta Origins still open to the drawing of Anu, Brother Shaan points to a face I did not before notice, hidden in the shadows. “Demon Kur was in attendance that day. He disagreed with Anu’s decision to bestow upon mortals these godly powers, so he took it upon himself to employ his abilities in a fifth mortal. In that dark hour, the demon Kur created a Voider, who could rend the sky from the land, destroying all life. The First Bhutas’ mission was to trap the Voider. After they did so, they hid the secret of how they captured the Voider in the Zhaleh. But the same powers that confine the Voider can also release him. Whoever has the book can set him loose. Every bhuta leader protected the Zhaleh until Rajah Tarek took hold of it. If the rajah opens the Void . . .”
I shudder, thinking of the horror Tarek could unleash.
Deven gets to his feet. “We’re out of time, Kali. Skill demonstrations start soon.”
Brother Shaan tucks the book into my satchel. “Keep this hidden. If you have any more questions, you know how to reach me.” We rise, and he faces Deven. “Brother Deven—”
“Captain Naik,” Deven says, correcting him.
“Captain, I understand this was difficult for you to hear, but I hope you will come to see that this war is an abomination in the sight of the gods.”
Deven manages a brusque nod, and we leave. Worries cloud my thoughts. I had hoped that hearing that bhutas are Anu’s children would relieve my uncertainties, but the breadth of Tarek’s hatred for bhutas has undone any chance for peace of mind.
Deven stops me outside the entrance to the wives’ wing. “Don’t expect anything from the bhutas, Kali. They have been active participants in the war as long as the rajah. They’re loyal to no one, not even their own.”
“You still don’t believe bhutas could be good?” I quiet my breath, praying that Brother Shaan’s words have softened him.
Deven’s eyes go flat. “I believe what I have seen all my life.”
I nod, my chest caving in. Brother Shaan gave a fair explanation for why the bhutas are at war with us, but not why Yasmin’s death drove Tarek to eradicate them. We are missing part of the story.
Deven rests a hand on my shoulder. “I’m going to assign you another guard. You will have two with you at all times. The Burner won’t get close to you again.”
I manage another nod, though it is not the Burner I fear, but myself.
We start to my chamber, my legs weighing heavier with each step. I wish that I could undo everything that has happened since I met the Burner. I wish that I could go back to when I had fevers, nothing more. I wish that I could be that sickly girl from the temple. I knew who I was then. Now I cannot trust my own hands.
Anu, please do not let this be true. I will adhere to the five virtues. I will obey everything asked of me. Just please, do not let me be an enemy to the rajah, to Deven, to the empire.
I listen with my heart, but my only answer comes from my pulse, a ticking timepiece propelling me closer and closer to a ledge from which there is no escape.