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SOWSAN, MALIK AND MU'alla ranged ahead, looking for a fight, while Gavriil and Edwina struggled to keep up.
Most of the Arcos had either fled this part of the citadel or were out in the sultan's war party. More than once they lost sight of the others, and Gavriil looked concerned. Edwina worried he might abandon her. They caught up again just before the funeral room, in the place that reminded Edwina of the halls of Atlas, where the doors had been wedged open and the openings were hung with brightly colored curtains.
One of the curtains had been torn away. Sowsan and Malik had cornered an Arco man in his chamber. The old warrior had put up a fight. But this man's days with the war party were long past, he was not in fighting shape and Edwina entered just in time to watch Malik land the final s.
"This does not help us to get out of here," she said.
"Each one helps," Sowsan replied, as Malik and his uncle rushed past them, and into the next room.
"These aren't warriors," Edwina said.
"You promised these men bloodshed. I wanted to make peace, remember, and you changed the plan."
"I'm not the reason they're killing your people out in the forest. That's where your fight is."
"We're headed to the forest," Sowsan said. "How can you help me when you can't even keep up?" Sowsan elbowed Gavriil as she passed, and followed the others.
"Dammit."
Gavriil shrugged and slipped Edwina's arm back over his shoulder.
"Can't you talk to them?"
Gavriil chuckled and said something about wild horses, a saying that did not quite translate from Arco-tongue.
The next the room was heaped with treasure, fine clothing, and far too much furniture. There were packaged foodstuffs brought in by trade with the outside world. The uncles tucked a few of these cans into their pockets but the prince and Sowsan kept moving.
When they reached the funeral hall it was empty except for the body. Sowsan stopped to pick up a rapier from the floor, a lighter weapon, better suited to her agility. Mu'alla went to bar the main door. Edwina and Gavriil waited at the balcony, which led to bridge and the western spires. Malik spotted more of the citadel guards and chased them down the main hallway before Mu'alla could bar the door.
"That's him!" Sowsan said, running to the body on the dais.
The color drained from her face as she approached. Sowsan lowered her veil. Shaking, she rested her hands on the edge of the stone. Edwina let go of Gavriil, and shuffled to the dais, to stand beside Sowsan.
"This is the one who killed my brother," Sowsan said.
"Did he go quickly?"
Sowsan shook her head.
"My line of work, there is always someone getting killed," Edwina said. "If the wilds-folk don't get you, their traps do. Sometimes it's better not to see it than to watch someone you care about die slowly."
"I've seen it enough," Sowsan whispered. "I'm not a child. This one gets flowers, but they left my brother in the mud."
You left me in the mud, Edwina thought.
Sowsan pulled at the flowers laid around the body, taking a handful and tucking them into her shirt.
<To spread over her brother's grave.> Edwina could do without this robot's insights. Its programming was more than annoyance. It had betrayed her when she needed it most.
"I didn't choose my life old woman. Don't speak like we are the same."
I'm not that old. This child needs to learn respect. <That's what an old person would say.>
"This isn't the life I chose," said Edwina. "I never planned to do the things I've done. You think the Arcos are the only cruel people on Atlas. If you knew what my people do, you would be glad you're trapped in this dome."
"Then why spoil my plan? Why did you get in the way?"
"This man killed your brother. How could you make peace with his people? Even pretending that there was a chance, why would you want to?"
"Look how they cared for this one." Sowsan said, rearranging the flowers.
"And they left your brother in the dirt."
"I could have chosen the ditch. If I had not thrown down my sword. I could have joined him."
The girl wasn't making any sense, Edwina hoped Malik would return quickly, before Sowsan could change her mind about this alliance.
"You think you're smart for staying alive?" Edwina asked.
"I take small victories where I can," said Sowsan.
"Well, you may not need small victories, if you can reach your people, and Malik can reach his. Together you might win this battle."
"It's getting bad outside."
"I'll stop the storm when I'm ready," Edwina said. This would all be easier if one person believed that she could do it.
"What if you can't?" asked Sowsan.
"You can take the tower, we can hold the gates from inside. The sultan will have to surrender when he realizes he is locked out of his own citadel.
"We could not hold it for long, not the five of us."
"So we'll take the forest. We'll get your people working together, and win back the citadel when we have the chance."
"We have tried for generations," said Sowsan.
"Your optimism is fickle," said Edwina.
"First you took the duke's attention from me and then you made all of this trouble, my people are dying because of you."
Edwina wanted to say that she was not responsible for the sultan's war party. But that would have been a lie. It was her sandstorm after all. As for the duke, and what had transpired in the bedchamber, she pushed that down. She would have preferred to ignore the girl's jab. But something kept bringing it up again, and she felt herself agreeing with Sowsan.
<It's true.>
"It's true," she said. It wasn't true at all.
This body was many things: goddess, huntress, companion. It seemed to mold itself to what others desired, to comfort them, to meet their expectations. But what about her own feelings?
She hadn't wanted the duke's attention. She doubted that the girl had wanted it either, not if she knew what he had in store for her. But here she was nodding in agreement.
"I'm sorry," she said, though she had meant to say something entirely opposite.
Edwina was grateful when Sowsan abruptly changed subjects.
"Do you expect me to marry this madman that you've brought to rescue me? Is that his reward?"
"Malik? Well he is a prince," Edwina said, desperate for the conversation to move on.
The thought had crossed her mind. They were the same age. Both of their towers were in desperate need of new blood. Sowsan had admitted as much. "He's strong, his skill with a sword is impressive. His people are loyal to him."
"Strength bends to strength. The moment he meets a real warrior, he will lose his nerve."
"You're the one who surrendered."
"I didn't make it easy for them," Sowsan said. "I killed this one at least." She looked at the body on the dais. "I took his life for my brother's. I was satisfied. But Malik and his people, they have been under the Arcos' boot too long. No slaughter will be enough for them. And they will always be cowards at heart."
There was a crash from the hallway. Sowsan looked up, and pointed to the door. Malik and Mu'alla were sprinting toward them, a trail of blood spattering from the uncle's shoulder.
"There are too many," Malik shouted. Sowsan laughed at the terror-stricken look on the prince's face. Then the Arcos rounded the corner and she fell silent. No less than half of those who had been in Issa's funeral chased after them.
These weren't warriors but older courtiers, advisers and grandparents of the Arco tribe. The sultan's elderly father was leading the charge. Most were dressed in nightgowns, some still wore the ceremonial garb from the previous evening. Jeweled or not, their wooden armor, and fine scimitars made the small mob all the more threatening.
Malik and Mu'alla barred the doors to the funeral hall. It would only be a minute before the mob worked their way to the side entrance.
Sowsan grabbed Edwina and helped her to the walkway.
What is that?" Sowsan said, stepping over the body of the child they had killed on their way up.
"More of his doing." Edwina pointed at the prince.
"He's killing children now?"
"We came to save you," Edwina said, "not to dither over which Arcos were too bald-faced to kill." Sowsan's expression hardened.
"You brought him along. You are responsible for his actions."
In truth, Edwina was just as disgusted with this business as Sowsan was. Again she had told herself that none of this mattered: these weren't her people, this wasn't her body. But the truth was clear, and when she glanced at the child's lifeless features, the knot in her stomach felt very real.
If nothing else was to come from this, she would at least be grateful for the numbness that other robots afforded. Edwina prayed that this was the last human-like body, that she would inhabit before reclaiming her own.
"Malik is—good to his own people," Edwina said. That was true. She had seen him in the tower, he'd given the food to the little girl. He had done what he could to shelter and protect his people, he had even bowed down before the Arcos to keep them safe,"
"A selfish person can love his own child and murder someone else's." Sowsan frowned, touching the body, perhaps looking for a sign of life, though it was clear from the pallor of the skin that this child had been gone for some time.
Mu'alla sealed the balcony door as best he could, wedging his sword between the door handles. He leaped over the corpse and urged them to keep moving. Blood trickled from the cut on his arm.
<He's hurt!>
Edwina grabbed Mu'alla's shoulder and inspected the wound. It wasn't as bad as it had seemed. Scars on his face spoke of deeper wounds in his past, and Gavriil did not give Mu'alla so much as a second glance.
He and Mu'alla took up Edwina's other arm, and the two of them helped her to keep up with Malik. Sowsan walked behind and Edwina could feel her smoldering glare on the back of her head.
After the balcony was the bridge, and beyond that, what seemed like an endless series of stairs. Edwina knew that it would end eventually, but like before, the descent felt impossibly long. It reminded Edwina of her journey into the core: stairs and more stairs, with no end in sight.
Sowsan spoke at one point.
"He means to make a sultan of himself."
"Isn't that what you wanted," Edwina said, "a sultan by your side. There's no reason you can't win with him. It sounds like a better deal than the one you had before."
It was true that Malik was impulsive, and a little strange looking, but he was also charismatic and passionate. At the moment he was only passionate about violence.
He's dumb enough to be a good match for her.
And he was young. There was still time to mold him into the figure of a sultan, and Sowsan was stubborn enough to do it. Perhaps the girl was just upset because it was not on her own terms.
No, Edwina hadn't done anything wrong. This was a fine plan. And certainly better than any others she had been considering. Edwina was somewhat proud of herself, for having done so much with so little.