I KNOW HOW this all goes.
Every once in a while, when some Kaya feels like it, brigades of Palace guards swarm through the Forum and out into the dahia, where families like mine live in shacks and mud-colored homes.
Then up on the hills surrounding the neighborhood, Wreckers and Hurlers are wheeled into place, pulled by servants hoping to work off their sins with manual labor. Meanwhile, the families in the slums cower in fear. Some won’t know where to go or what to do; they’re the recent arrivals. Maybe they can no longer afford a place in the Forum; maybe they’re coming from outside of Kos. Maybe they’re just unlucky. Meanwhile, the rest of the dahia will begin packing up their lives and running away. The Hurlers, those massive wooden contraptions, will fling their shots, and stone and brick will arc high into the air then crash into the houses below. Frightened children will scurry, crying for help, and some of them will run straight into the arms of Palace guards and the Agha Sentries lying in wait to round up more potential aki.
I know how this all goes. Because that’s how they got me.
A boulder flies over my head and smashes into the building next to me. I dash down an alley and nearly crash into a father racing in the other direction. He stops to pull forward his two sons, their mother following close behind. I look to see what they’re running from, and there it is: the telltale red of a sentry’s robe. The Agha Sentry moves at the head of half a dozen guardsmen, and they stalk down the path like a river that breaks down everything in its way. They’re calm, their eyes sweeping back and forth, looking for new aki recruits. I look back, and I’m relieved to see the family has vanished. But so has Omar.
There’s no time to look for him.
I round the corner and run through the market, now abandoned after the warning call sounded. The jeweler’s stall is unattended, but people are too busy fleeing for their lives to steal. The cylindrical books are scattered all over, trampled, their pages exposed and torn. The wind scatters some loose sheets over the ground, unraveling them, revealing the illegal stories the booktraders were hawking.
Quiet covers this stretch of street. The only sound is the occasional crash of boulders into homes. Maybe the guards and Mages have already been through here. I’m about to leave when I hear something skitter. I stop, look both ways, then spot something moving in a crevice too thin for a body to fit in. It’s not until I’m crouched right in front of the slice in the wall that I see the pair of golden eyes. They shine straight through the shadows. It’s a little girl. I can only see flashes of her face, the dark skin of her cheeks, some of the dust and plaster pasted to her forehead.
I reach out my hand and let her get a glimpse of the tattoos on my arm so she knows I’m not one of the guardsmen. “Hey, what’s your name?” She doesn’t move. I shuffle closer. “It’s OK. Where are your parents?”
She’s not crying or shaking. She’s completely still. Maybe she’s in shock. Other than me, she’s the only thing still breathing on this street. In my head, I map out the street I’m on and the surrounding quarter. Behind me, the shuffle of boots against dirt. The guards.
“Come on,” I hiss. “Come on, we gotta go.” She’s exactly the type of child they’re looking for, the type that gets swept up in these Baptisms. The type the Mages will test to see if she can Eat, if she has aki potential. The footsteps are getting closer. If they find her, I won’t be able to stop the Mages from taking her. From separating her from her parents. If they’re still alive.
The girl sticks a hand out. I take it, pull her out, and hitch her small body up on my side. She’s wearing a green robe, and one of her sandals hangs loose. Now that she’s in my arms, I see that she can’t be more than five years old. “What’s your name, little one?”
She turns away, and I think I see a smile. With my free hand, I thumb some of the dust and plaster off her cheeks, but I only end up smudging it further.
“It’s OK. Now hold on tight.” I shift her onto my back and make sure she’s wrapped her arms tight around my neck. Then we’re off.
At first, I want to take her to the Aunties. They’ll know what to do, but my gut is telling me to head for the outskirts of the dahia, where the guardsmen are least likely to patrol. The destruction from the Baptism is random. Untouched blocks of houses and shacks one instant, then nothing but rubble the next. Occasionally, we’ll hear screams, and the little girl’ll bury her head in my neck.
“It’s all right, little one.”
We’re about to hop out from around a corner when I hear a moan. I freeze. It could be anything. Could be something I dreamed up. Could be the moan of an uncleansed inyo wandering Kos. But I wait. That definitely sounds like a person. Still alive. We turn, and, half-buried by a collapsed wall, a man struggles. He grits his teeth and pushes against the bit of stone wall that pins him to the ground. He’s covered in dust, and broken tree branches and bits of metal surround him.
I shift to cover the girl’s eyes, but it’s too late. She’s seen him. Before I can stop her, she pries herself out of my grip and lands with a soft puff on the ground.
“Baba,” I hear her wail through sobs. She tugs at the arms of her father.
“Sweetheart, let’s go,” I whisper.
It’s not that I don’t feel for her, but the man is doomed. Guardsmen are coming through for another sweep. There’s no saving that man. But maybe I can save her. As if I summoned them with my thoughts, the good-for-nothing, ruby-licking guardsmen appear and, just off to the side, a Mage. Hunting for someone just like her.
I don’t know what to do. Leave and live with this girl’s fate on my conscience or sacrifice myself in a fiery burst of heroism—even though after I die, they’ll probably snatch her up anyway. I flick my arm, and my daga slides out of its sheath and into my hand. I crouch into my fighting stance and move in front of the girl and her wounded father. Maybe the other aki will tell stories about me. Maybe they’ll talk about how the Lightbringer gave his life to save a little girl from the clutches of the Mages. The thought of a statue of me being built in a dahia makes me chuckle.
When the guards see me, they pick up their pace. Now they’re practically charging toward me. I’m ready to spring.
May the Unnamed preserve me.
Something heavy rushes right past me, a blur of black and brown, and crashes into the Agha Sentry. The column folds in as several more people rush in to break up the guardsmen. Aki! I shout with surprise when I see Bo leading the charge. He tackles one of the guardsmen, then plows like an ox through the whole troop while the others jump in and cause chaos.
I turn and see with relief that Auntie Sania and Auntie Nawal have followed them. They crouch down by the girl and her wounded father. I can see dirt under their fingernails where the Aunties probably tried to dig people out from underneath the rubble.
In the tussle down the alleyway, the Mage gets tossed to the ground. He yelps. The little girl, distracted, lets go of her father, and Auntie Nawal sweeps the girl into her arms. Down the way is a small gaggle of kids, some the girl’s age, some younger, some older. Auntie Sania gives me a familiar look. The kind of look that tells me it’s time to do the difficult thing. While my best friend is fighting off guards, I gotta chaperone a bunch of weepy little kids to safety.
There are just over half a dozen of them, some in rags, some in dresses. None of them have a speck of sin on them. I catch Auntie Sania’s gaze and nod, then I rush ahead to make sure the path’s clear. When I look back to see what happened to the girl’s father, he’s nowhere to be seen. I pray to the Unnamed that he made it out.
As our little parade makes its way down the empty streets, I scoop up some of the smaller kids, smiling big to make sure they’re looking at me and not at the crushed remains of their homes or the arm sticking out from under a piece of rubble. Some of them are old enough that this isn’t their first Baptism. Even so, you never get used to this.
I’m still carrying one howling boy in my arms when I start to recognize the streets. There’s an untouched balcony that still has potted plants on it, and farther down a blanket hangs from a second-story window. It has a spiral painted on it in many colors. Handprints spot it, small enough I know they belong to a kid. Or kids.
I realize I’m now within an hour’s walk from Mama and Baba’s house. I could go see them. Right now. Go look for them. Make sure they’re OK. I could let them know they don’t have to worry about me, that my money will be coming, same as always. With a little extra this time.
But the kid in my arms starts whimpering, and I have to bounce him a little bit to get him to quiet. We don’t know if any Mages or guards are around. I can’t stop thinking about how unblemished this little boy’s arms and legs are, pure where mine are marked. It makes me feel dirty, and I know I can’t let Mama and Baba see me like this. Mama would avoid looking at my marks, would whisper, “What have they done to you?” and Baba would just stand there, still as a statue, with that look on his face like he knows I’m suffering and he’s suffering because of it, but neither of us knows any other way. No, they don’t need to see me like this.
It’s not too long before Auntie Sania up ahead motions for us to stop. Auntie Nawal continues down the empty street and looks both ways to make sure it’s clear, then leads us down a dark alley to a wall covered by a wet curtain. She raises the curtain to reveal an opening, and we hurry through. As soon as the flap closes, both Aunties look at me sternly, in that way that makes me feel guilty. Like I should be taking better care of myself.
Auntie Nawal steps closer to me. “Bo tells us you’ve been getting into fights lately.”
I look away and run a hand through my hair, puffing out the side because I can’t think what else to do. “Bo talks too much.”
“I don’t think there are very many people in Kos who would agree that talking too much is Bo’s problem.” Auntie Nawal snorts out a laugh. “You should stop by more often. There is always a warm meal waiting for you here.”
I nod to the hidden entrance to the marayu, the orphanage. “You have a lot more mouths to feed now. Besides, I can take care of myself.” I shrug. “Whenever I get called to the Palace to Eat, I come back with a full belly anyway.” I wink and turn to leave.
“Taj,” Auntie Sania calls out. She has chestnut eyes that tug downward at the edges so that even when she smiles, she looks sad. “Your hair’s gotten so long. Do the girls like it?”
“Yes, Auntie. The girls like it.” The smirk slips off my face. I feel tired all of a sudden. “Auntie, I have to go.”
“Be well, Taj.” She puts a hand on my exposed forearm, noting the new lion on it.
Both women vanish into the enclosure.
I turn and see Bo leaning against a wall at the mouth of the alley. He’s got a small tear on his sleeve, but other than that and a little bit of dust in his hair, he doesn’t have a mark on him. When I get next to Bo, I wrap my arm around his neck.
“You’ve been talking about me behind my back?”
I try to wrestle him to the ground. Before I know it, he’s got both of my arms locked behind my back. How he moves so quickly, I have no idea.
“It’s for your own good, brother,” Bo says. He’s not even breathing hard. I slither out of his hold and glare at him.
“I’m hungry. Zoe’s?” Bo cracks his neck.
I nod. “Zoe’s.”
All around us, people are cleaning up from the Baptism. Pulling precious broken things out from under the rubble. Sweeping the entrances to their homes. Restacking stones.
“You think I’ll have any luck this time around?” I ask. My back is screaming at me, and my knees tremble with fatigue. “What if we run into girls from Ithnaan? You think it’ll be the same ones as last time?”
Bo chuckles. “You better hope not.”
“Well, if they don’t like my hair, at least Auntie Sania says it’s nice.” I start to pluck at it, try to get the curliness to puff out all the way. There’s dust and grit and sweat all in it, so I have quite a bit of work to do if I’m gonna be presentable by the time we get to Zoe’s.