When Revna shouldered Jevin and another Malik aside to make room for them on the logs, they obliged, but grudgingly. Jevin gave Kasira a look so foul it could have turned milk, clasping at the rosary beads around his wrist as if they might protect him from her corruption. Revna’s smile dared him to say something, but he only turned away.
As much as Kasira had tried to keep to herself after joining the Malikinar, Revna had sought her out like an invasive vine, ensnaring her into friendship. And though Kasira would never admit it, their connection kept her afloat. Against every better judgement, she had still sought herself an anchor. A touchpoint around which to build her lie, just like Loraya had taught her.
Except this time, she had no mark, no plan, no con. This time, the trick was to survive.
Just as they sat down, the ground jarred, sending a shudder through the camp. Trees groaned and quivered, several poorly set tents collapsing inward. Kasira braced herself, but the quake subsided as quickly as it came.
Paskar flicked spilled ale from his fingers. “Those are getting more frequent.”
“It’s the goddess showing her displeasure,” seethed Jevin in a low voice. “For the beast that …got away.”
Kasira’s fingers tightened around her cup. People like Jevin couldn’ttrip in Kalthos without blaming beasts. Perhaps that was the trick of it, though. The con. They needed to hold something accountable for their suffering, and the Haidrin Church had provided the perfect scapegoat. And when the crown embraced the goddess a hundred years ago, the people went from blaming their leaders for every misfortune to killing beasts, all too willing to swallow whatever they were fed to numb the pain.
Or perhaps it’s all true, Kasira thought, studying a gnarled scar along her palm. Perhaps her childhood wonder for beasts, her curiosity, had corrupted her. One touch, and the sin had slid beneath her skin, the evil festering in her heart. That was what the priests had told her when they tried to burn the sin from her flesh. That if she did not repent, her soul would be left in the cold and silence of purgatory upon Haidra’s return, condemned forever to darkness.
It was the remnants of that curiosity that had stayed her hand against the Alkatir cub, a mistake she was certain she hadn’t yet finished paying for.
Paskar glanced nervously between Jevin and Revna, who looked one wrong word away from skewering Jevin with her fork. She was as devout a believer as any Kal, but twice as fierce a friend and far more than Kasira deserved.
Clearly seeking to change the topic, Paskar blurted, “Did you hear the Librarian has finally called for a new Assistant?” His long legs were stretched out before him and crossed at the ankles, his body tilted so his shoulder tipped into Revna’s. “I had started to doubt he would ever do it.”
For an instant, the tension between Jevin and Revna remained—and then her friend sniffed and tore into a hunk of bread, speaking over it. “I pity the damned fool who’s chosen.”
“I don’t know,” Paskar said with a wicked grin. “I’ve heard the current Librarian is something of a fox.”
“An attractive devil is still a devil, Paskar,” Revna returned. “And the Librarian is the worst kind. Right, Kas?”
“Yes,” she said automatically, as she had long ago learned to. To say anything else was blasphemy. As the arbitrator of international politicsacross the six nations and the sole overseer for the management of magic, Amorlin harbored the very beasts the Malikinar hunted, putting their study and protection ahead of all else. In contrast, Kalthos chose the sword. It was a difference of opinion that had pitted the kingdom against the Library for decades.
To Kalthos, the Library was a cesspool of sin, the Librarian its dark conductor.
“Perhaps that’s why the Paratal is visiting tomorrow,” Paskar teased with a waggle of his thick brows. “He’s going to choose one of us.” His joke was met with various forms of blanching and several dirty looks, but he only laughed.
“They ought to send one of you.” Jevin spat on the earth at Kasira’s feet. “Your soul is already damned, Kott.”
He barely had the words out before a flood of ale struck him in the face, followed by Revna’s tin cup. “Keep it up, and my blade is next.”
“Drawing your blade on a fellow Malik is—” Jevin stopped when Revna unsheathed her sword halfway with a smile that promised a complete disregard for whatever rule he was about to cite.
“You shouldn’t speak of the Librarian in such a way,” interjected one of the Malik who had been praying earlier, his eyes bright with fervor. “Haidra strives to purify all souls of the beasts’ corruption, and that includes the Librarian and his mages. If we do not look to save the most afflicted among us, are we truly doing Haidra’s work?”
“We should purge them from this earth the same way we do beasts,” Revna replied. Several other Malik grumbled their approval, and no one pushed the matter. The conversation deviated to the Paratal’s ongoing circuit of Malikinar battalions and speculation around the recent string of thefts about camp, but Kasira’s mind remained on the Library and the stories her mother used to tell her of it.
She remembered little of her childhood before the fire that claimed her parents’ lives. She could not recall her mother’s face, only the black hair that had fallen to her hips like a spool of silk. But she remembered when her mother had shown her the creature living in the creek by their home. She remembered her placing the Talowell’s scaly body in Kasira’s hands and the way her soft voice had whispered, “See? It is not so scary.”
Her mother had taught her to look at beasts and feel wonder in place of fear, had made a young Kasira dream of becoming the first Kalish mage in a century.
How foolish she had been.
“I’m telling you, we have a thief.” Revna’s voice drew her from her thoughts. “The vylor knife my father gifted me when I joined up is gone, and Kasira’s lost her silver hairpin.”
Paskar looked doubtful. “No Malik would resort to petty theft. Well, except—” His gaze flicked to Kasira, and Revna swatted his arm hard enough to make him wince.
He didn’t mean her. Her unit might not be familiar with her exact crimes, but they knew she had worked for Thane Ryarch, and there had been nothing petty about him. But Unit Three was made up of plenty of small-time thieves who could be responsible. Still, it was as good an opportunity as any to excuse herself.
“Kas—” Revna began.
“It’s fine,” she said, standing. “I’m tired. I’ll see you in the morning.” Paskar offered an apologetic look, but Kasira only handed him the rest of her ale and left.
