“What are you doing with it?” I made a gesture to encompass the larger room, astonished that Wahzir not only had it, but that a book of such power, a grimoire, would be jumbled together with everything else in an untidy room.
“Trying to open it,” he said lightly. “I’m a mage.”
“A mage?”
“Mage-healer.”
I’d heard of them. I’d never met one before. “But why here?” I asked. “Shouldn’t it be kept in a safer place?”
“I told my master I could not be expected to sit alone in a reception chamber and open it. I required what I was most accustomed to, and that is here in this room. The book was brought to me.”
I played over something he’d said. I was very careful with my words and intonation. “Trying to open it.”
“And failing.”
“But you’re a mage.”
He sighed. “We are not infallible.”
I began to be a little concerned. I’d always detested magic, and most of what was claimed to be magic, wasn’t. But I’d learned. I’d been taught that lesson atop the stone spires of Meteiera. “You said you know something now. That you understood the puzzle.”
“I know why my master has done what he’s done, yes. And why. The rumors about you are true. My master wants you for the magic in your bones.”
Ignoring him, I got up again, moved back to Del’s bedside and sat once more. “Bascha?”
“I gave her a draught,” he said. “She won’t waken for quite some time.”
Bitterly I asked, “Umir’s idea?”
“No. Mine. She needs to remain very still or the bleeding might begin again.”
I turned, leaned my back against the edge of the bed. My kidney stabbed with pain, and I couldn’t suppress a grimace. I closed my eyes, sighed very deeply. Shackles rattled in my lap.
“He wishes very badly that the book be opened, does my master.”
I grunted.
The book lay on his lap. “Would you do me the favor of pushing your hair back?”
I stared at him in bafflement. “Push my hair back? What in hoolies for?”
“Will you?”
“There’s no reason I should do any such thing.”
“Please.”
We stared at one another a long moment. I was angry, frustrated, and he knew it; he was calm, patient, and I knew that. So I skinned my hair back from my forehead, baring the edge of blue tattoos that ran all along my hairline.
“Ahhh.” He smiled. “Thank you. I’d always heard of the mages of Meteiera, but had never met one.”
I let my hair flop back over my brow. “Yes, I’m very unique.” And kept the tattoos hidden with hair. The mages of Meteiera shaved their heads.
“Is it true that you’ll go mad and die in ten years?”
I had seen men leap from the spires in the moment before the madness overtook them, killing themselves so they would do no harm to people they loved. Not all had the will to leap. Some had indeed gone back to families, thinking they could control the madness—and slaughtered them when the magic overwhelmed their minds.
I told Wahzir the absolute truth. “I’m a sword-dancer,” I said. “That’s all. A long life lies ahead of me.”
Wahzir smiled sadly. “The book must be opened.”
“Hunh. Umir should know by now that I don’t surrender quite so easily.”
“You must,” he repeated. “Please.”
I scowled at him. “‘Please’ isn’t going to work this time. I don’t know what Umir’s paying you, but it’s not going—”
He broke in. “He’s not paying me. I’m part of his collection.”
It stopped me cold. I stared at him.
“Part of his collection,” he repeated. “There aren’t many of us left, you see, we mage-healers, so here I am.” He shrugged lightly, as if resigned. “But when I tell you the book must be opened, it has nothing to do with me, or even my master. It has to do with you and your future.”
That was odd. “My future?”
Wahzir’s eyes were kind, but also sad. “Umir has your daughter.”
Chapter 39
BUMPS ROSE ON MY FLESH. Hair stood up. I felt cold, so cold. I shivered from head to toe.
“Yes,” Wahzir said, before I could deny it from disbelief. “It’s quite true. I’ve seen Sula. She’s approximately two years old, has hair not quite as blond as Del’s, blue eyes, and she frequently announces her name to anyone within earshot.”
My lips felt stiff. I couldn’t speak properly. “How did Umir find her?”
His expression was apologetic. “I don’t have that answer. I’m sorry, Sandtiger. All I was given to know was that Umir wished to use your daughter to force your hand. Then I knitted together the rumors I’d heard about you being a mage. Though I’m not sure anyone believed it.”
He knew her name, Sula’s. That he knew mine, knew Del’s, meant nothing. But Sula’s. The Sandtiger had a daughter. People in Julah knew. It was no secret. But neither was it something that came up in conversation except with people Del and I knew well. We didn’t hide it. I could think of no reason why anyone would ride out of Julah all the way to Umir with such knowledge.
Del and Sula. Two hostages.
One would have been enough.
Gods. Sula.
I rose to my knees and turned to Del, who was insensible to all. I bent down over her, putting my head against hers. “I’ll make her safe,” I told her. “I promise. I’ll do whatever he wants. She’ll be safe. And we’ll all go back home together.”
“Sandtiger.”
I kissed Del’s brow. “I promise.”
“Sandtiger.”
On my knees, I turned.
Wahzir held out the Book of Udre-Natha. “Here. You can do it right now, right here, and all will be over.”
I stared at the book. My eyes burned, but were dry.
“It will be over,” the mage-healer repeated. “All you have to do is give Umir what he wants.”
I collapsed back against the bedframe. I was empty, so empty.
“You closed it. You can open it.” He stepped forward, bent, pushed the book into my hands. I’d forgotten how heavy it was. “Open it.”
It crossed my mind briefly that Wahzir was being very aggressive about me opening the book. It bore thinking about. But I had no focus to do so.
The Book of Udre-Natha. I stared at the cover. I touched it. Ran fingertips across the unadorned leather. Touched the hinges, the hasp, the latch. It looked like any other book. But this one would never open for anyone but me.
The me I’d once been, but wasn’t anymore. I had made sure of that when I poured my magic into Samiel and broke the blade.
A great grief rose up as I met Wahzir’s eyes. “I can’t.”
“He’ll let you go,” Wahzir insisted. “All three of you. He just wants the book.”
“I can’t.”
“Sandtiger—”
“I can’t. I gave all the magic away.”
Wahzir sank down, eyes wide with shock. “You gave—?”
“I gave it away. I couldn’t face having only ten years left to me. Not when my life was so full.”
His face was pale. “You gave it away?”
I tossed the book aside. No pages fluttered. The cover didn’t get caught on anything. The book was locked. No harm was done.
“I gave it away.”
Wahzir stared at me. The pupils in his eyes grew and grew. Lips peeled back. He displayed gritted teeth. “You gave away what I would kill to have!” He leaped to his feet. “Do you understand? All that magic!” He swept up the book I had tossed aside. He hugged it to his chest. “Gods! Gods! All that is in here, and I can’t open it. You can’t open it!” He dropped to his knees, rocking, keening, as if he’d lost a child.