The Mistress of Serpents was asked to judge a dispute between two farmers.
This man has diverted the stream so I cannot water my crop, the first farmer said.
For years, this man has kept the stream to himself, the second replied. I am balancing the scales.
Serpent transformed the fields of both men into a magnificent lake. Now there is water for all, she said.
—COLLECTED FOLKTALES
The weight of what she’d done hit her. Jasminda had just killed a man. Nausea squeezed her belly. She released the knife from her shaking hand, startling as it clattered to the floor.
“Are you all right?” Jack asked. She turned to face him and caught sight of Wargi in the doorway. The boy was frozen, eyes on the carnage of his former squad members. And then he was gone.
“Wargi!” she shouted, taking off after him. Jack followed on her heels as she entered her parents’ bedroom.
The boy stood over the sergeant’s prone body, shaking him awake. Tensyn sat up, bleary-eyed. Long moments passed before he processed what was before him. Both Jasminda and Jack were covered in blood, head to toe.
Jasminda didn’t know what to expect, so when the sergeant slowly raised his hands above his head in surrender, she was surprised. She looked back to find Jack training a pistol on him.
“Jasminda, gather the weapons,” Jack said. She blinked and jumped into action.
An additional service revolver sat on the dresser. She grabbed it and opened the chamber to find it full of rounds.
She bent to check the ground, when a rucksack in the corner began to vibrate. That same uneasy feeling of bad magic returned, pulsing in time to the movement of the sack.
“What is that?” Her voice hitched.
Jack’s brow was furrowed, but Tensyn stared at the bag, eyes wide, before turning away. He swallowed. The noise grew louder, more insistent.
“Answer her.” Jack motioned with his gun.
“It’s a speaking stone,” Tensyn said through clenched teeth.
Jasminda had never heard of such a thing. The queasiness in her stomach grew with each rattle. Jack slipped his hand around her wrist, raising her weapon until it was trained on the two Lagrimari, then he turned to the rucksack and searched its pockets.
A bandana covering his fingers, Jack retrieved a small brownish-red pebble, about the size of his thumbnail. The tiny object shook in his palm, unrelenting. Jasminda winced at the magic coming from it.
“A speaking stone.” Wonder laced Jack’s voice. “Why is it shaking?”
Tensyn firmed his lips, refusing to answer.
“The shaking must be how it alerts you to a communication.” Jasminda could feel the insistence of the magic. She glanced at Tensyn and suddenly the bandage on his finger made sense.
“Blood,” she said. Tensyn’s eyes narrowed. She turned to Jack who nodded, understanding. He wiped some of the blood covering him onto the stone. It stopped rattling.
“I do not like to be kept waiting, Sergeant. Is it done?” The same imperious female voice Jasminda had heard before came through the stone.
“Who is this?” Jack asked.
A pause. “Who is this?” The voice was smiling. It was as though the woman already knew who she was talking to. “I suppose introductions can come later. Time and the True Father wait for no man. Ta-ta.”
With a cry, Jack dropped the stone and shook out his hand.
“What happened?” Jasminda asked, but the speaking stone ignited like a match as it hit the ground. The flame instantly caught hold of the bedroom rug and raced across its length, impossibly fast.
As if possessed with some kind of intelligence, the fire leapt up the legs of the dresser. Before Jasminda could move, one of the oil lamps exploded, showering the room in sparks and flame. She screamed and ducked. Jack was on her in an instant, leading her out of the room, away from the blaze.
Wargi and Tensyn, coughing and sputtering, raced out behind them and disappeared through the kitchen. Jack pulled the bedroom door shut and stuffed the quilt from the couch in the crack at the bottom of the doorframe.
“Do you have a fire suppressor?”
His words scrambled in her head. “A what?”
“No, I suppose you wouldn’t, all the way out here. We don’t have much time. Save what you can.” He dashed into the kitchen, leaving her staring at the door, still not believing what lay on the other side.
A coughing fit caused by the acrid smoke filling her lungs shook her from her stupor. Tears like acid stung her cheeks. Her house was burning. Her home.
She raced upstairs and replaced her blood-soaked robe with a dress and boots. Tossed items blindly into a sack. Some part of her was still in her parents’ bedroom, watching the flames consume the walls. She stared at the bag in her hands, not remembering how it got there, not knowing what was inside, only that the tightness in her chest was not just smoke, it was the mouth of an endless river, a wash of despair sweeping her away.
She found herself in the living room again, standing in front of the cabinets. Had she run down the stairs? Was that why she was struggling to breathe?
No …
Everything here was precious. Sooty fingers skimmed each shelf, committing the feel of each object to memory. Her chest contracted. Was that her heart shrinking away to nothing?
Jack appeared next to her, carrying a basket stuffed with what remained of the pantry. “Give that to me.” He plucked the sack from her grasp. She stared at her empty hands for a moment, then at Jack, and felt grounded by the firmness of his expression. His uniform was tattered and stained. She pulled out a set of her brothers’ clothes from the cabinet and tossed them at him.
“These should fit—the boys were tall for their age.”
Flames reached out from under her parents’ door, the quilt having been eaten away. In mere minutes there would be nothing left of her life.
“Jasminda.”
Time spun without her knowledge. She turned to find Jack changed and ready. He’d even pulled on Papa’s old coat, the one the three children had saved up over the course of a year to replace. Papa had been wearing the new one the last time she saw him.
Tears formed, and her throat began to close up. Jack said her name again. “We have to go.”
She nodded, throat too thick to speak, and allowed him to take her hand and pull her from the house.
In the front yard, Wargi dragged Pymsyn’s body, laying him next to the charred, motionless form of Unar. Tensyn sat on the ground, enthralled by the vivid flames. Their reflection danced in his dark irises.
Jasminda’s knees hit the ground as a crash sounded behind her. Heat crawled over her skin. Pungent smoke punched her nose. She could not bring herself to look. Jack wrapped his arms around her and pressed her into his chest. He whispered something she couldn’t hear above the rush of blood in her ears.
Gasping, she worked to pull herself together, clutching at the coat Jack wore that had long since lost her father’s smell. Finally, she could breathe steadily. His arms were a cage of safety around her, but she still felt like her chest had cracked open and everything inside was leaking out.
“This is all I have. I have nothing else.”
He held her tighter and rocked her gently, but she found no solace in his arms.