Shadow Sister

By C.T. Remchin

Shadow Sister takes place in the vast Obsidian City, at the heart of a cruel and powerful empire. It tells a story of Saiyali Ambon, kidnapped from her forest home as a girl and sold on to a wealthy family from far across the ocean. It unfolds in two arcs that interweave, revealing her character along two alternating timelines: 'Past' and 'Present'. Between these are scattered pages of a guidebook, which illustrate a living, breathing and rather mundane fantasy world.

In 'Past', Saiyali is enslaved, and used as a thief and a killer. Her actions echo and catch up with her in 'Present', where she works for a criminal gang and finally becomes an assassin for the legendary Sisterhood of Shadows. In both timelines she grows to enjoy her life of crime – but forces are moving beyond her control, that will ultimately lead her to face both past and present together in a bloody climax, with choices and opportunities she could never have imagined.

Shadow Sister is set in a far-future Earth, where singing can activate aenimus, a kind of life energy that originates from ancient apocalypse and ruin. Descended from survivors of the end of the world, these people are recognizably human despite their magical abilities – and their flawed society in many ways mirrors our own. It is an immersive, sensuous, emotional adventure, populated by vivid and morally-ambiguous characters; speculative fiction with shades of noir.

• Language: English
• Publisher: C.T. Remchin
• Release date: Feb 8, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311334763

C.T. Remchin

CT Remchin grew up and lives by the sea, and writes to distract from everyday life wiping real and metaphorical bottoms. After half a lifetime of watching the world turn upside down, CT decided it was time to turn it the right way up again, in writing. CT used to write mainly songs and poems but during one particularly stressful period, the escapism of a fantasy world became overwhelmingly appealing. Nowadays this self-indulgent fiction is a kind of compensation for days and nights spent caring for others at home and at work. It is also an interesting way to use characters created over many years for role-playing games.CT Remchin believes in magic, and uses it daily.

Book preview

Present: Beginning of the End

''Go on then, look an' see! But if there's gold, we share it!''

''If you want t' share it, you look!''

''No way, it's your idea! I think it's horrible! But I want a share anyway – so that – so I won't tell on you!'' This was a girl's voice, and she laughed.

The other voice, a boy's, growled and muttered then finished, ''Fine, come on – help me pull her out.''

Waves lapped gently on pebbles again and again, one long slow hiss fading into the distance as the next faded in. Small crunches and splashes interrupted the sound, and these were accompanied by a few heavy dragging noises. Eventually two voices rose in disappointment, providing a short coda to the movement.

The voices belonged to a pair of children. One, a boy of about twelve, was wearing rough brown pants and a simple grey shirt fastened with strings. The other, a girl a year or so younger, was dressed in faded shades of mauve and blue, her pants and tie-up shirt matching perfectly the scarf wrapped around her head. It was a warm and humid late summer day and they were both barefoot. The pale grey sand and tiny shells of the small cliff-lined bay where they stood powdered their dark feet with grains that glistened and sparkled in the sunshine.

The boy continued patting around the woman's body, apparently looking for any pouches or pockets. The girl watched, slowly shaking her head.

''What?'' the boy exclaimed. ''She's out o' th' sea, y' know – finders keepers!'' He scowled and sighed, squinting a little in the mid-morning sun. Then, something about the woman's neck caught his eye and he frowned, leaning down to look closer.

She was certainly over thirty years old, and on the small side of average-height. She had thick black hair that was matted half-across her face, and she was dressed in a long-sleeved, calf-length cotton dress in swirling shades of bright red and purple. She had nothing on her feet, and her golden-brown skin was gathering a white dusting of salt as the sea water evaporated in the breeze. On the back of her neck was a large black tattoo of six slim interlocking circles. Her chest gurgled, and one recently-manicured finger twitched.

The boy's frown deepened. ''Oh no – No, look! She isn't dead though! Look! She's breathing!'' He fell to his knees and leaned over, holding his ear to the woman's mouth. ''Really Jiil – she's alive!''

The girl sprang over and started lifting the woman's feet up. She struggled, the boy began protesting but she cut him short. ''Jaak, help me lift her upside-down, get the water out of her!''

Between them, they managed to raise the woman's feet up from where she lay, then somehow worked their way, grunting with the effort, to her hips which they raised as high as they could. Water flowed out of her mouth and nose, and she coughed and spluttered reflexively. The two dropped her in shock and jumped back simultaneously; luckily she landed flat on her back again, and with her head lower than her chest on the slope of the shore, she continued to drain.

Jaak spoke quickly, panting from exertion and excitement. ''Jiil, I'm fastest, I'll run home an' try an' get Ba'Ranu wi' th' cart – Mama Yakiya too maybe. Stay here, ehh – don't let her die!'' He bounded off at top speed without waiting for a reply.

Jiil watched him run, knowing he was right about his being faster, and when he was out of sight, she turned away and sat down next to the woman.

She was beautiful, even though she was half-drowned and a truly terrible mess. Her eyes were closed and Jiil desperately wanted to know what colour they were. The woman's nose was broad and shapely, and her skin was as smooth as fresh clay. Her mouth was framed in wide, full lips, slightly turned up at the corners, giving her an impish, amused look even at rest.

The more Jiil stared, the more beautiful the woman appeared. She frowned uneasily. That tattoo's a slave kind – but she's got perfect fingers. Rich lady's fingers! It didn't make sense to her; she hoped Mama Yakiya could explain it.

Better still, this woman would live, and Jiil could ask her herself. She realised she wanted that very much – to get to meet this unexpected, exotic arrival, to hear where she'd come from and where she was going, and why she was lying drowned on their beach in the middle of nowhere.

The woman's chest was rattling and gurgling badly as she breathed in shallow, ragged breaths. It was deeply disturbing to Jiil, who'd seen her own mother die of pneumonia not even a year earlier. But that awful memory stirred another.

The song. I've got to do something, just till Mama Yakiya can see her – how does it go?

 She began humming, just softly, remembering the pitches and the length of each syllable carefully. As she remembered her voice got louder, the strange melody became clearer, and the air around her and just in front of her began to shimmer gently.

Yes! Alright, she thought to herself excitedly, the words now, the actual sounds— She began the melody again, this time her mouth forming each note into a syllable, and the shimmering air responded, coalescing into tiny globs of pale, floating light. She continued singing as she raised her hands through these, twisting and turning them gently to gather them onto her hands. It stuck as she sang, and she delighted in its ticklish warmth.

This was as much as any clever child might do; it was the next part which required the real skill, and in her heart Jiil was awkwardly aware that she didn't really know what she was doing. She simply felt she had to do something, and this was something she could do.

She intoned the last vowel of her chant and she allowed it to become the first sound of another, more complex melody with words that weren't really but syllables that resonated together and made the glistening blobs of light ripple and dance. She cupped her hands into a hollow ball, fingers splayed to keep as much of the stuff as she could on them. Gently but firmly, as she went on singing the oddly abstract song, she pushed the glowing matter into the woman's chest. It spread over the material of the dress and quickly soaked in, and after a minute of song and gentle rubbing it had all disappeared.

Jiil kept her chant regular and tried not to let herself speed up in excitement, but she stumbled on a syllable and gave an unexpected gasp. At that moment the woman's breathing became ragged and rasping. Jiil screamed and jumped up in horror, the song lost, tears springing to her eyes.

''No! No! Oh no no no!, I've killed her! No!''

Fear and shame bloomed deep inside her, and her sobs echoed the whooping rasps coming from the now convulsing woman. Jiil finally screamed out loud and just at that moment the woman sat up and her whole body was shaken in one final spasm. Foul-smelling, grey-brown liquid burst from her nose and mouth as she half retched and half coughed. Again, one, two more times, and then her eyes rolled back into her head and she dropped once more to the shingle, dead still.

The long wash of gentle waves on well-rounded pebbles continued, now broken only by Jiil's sobs, and one more soft crunch as she fell to her knees, head in hands.

''I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, so sorry!'' She kept repeating over and over, and her head fell lower and lower till it was finally resting on the woman's belly. She sobbed a moment longer and them her own body tensed, and she knelt bolt upright again, clapping and gasping in shock and wonder.

''You're breathing! You're still breathing! It worked! Ah, it worked!''

And now, Jiil's scream was piercing, and went on for quite a while as her mind did somersaults and tried to catch up.

By the time Jaak arrived back at the bay with a middle-aged, grey-bearded and well-wrinkled man on a cart pulled by two grey and brown work beasts, Jiil was sitting quietly next to the still unconscious woman stroking her forehead, with an odd look in her eyes. She had also cleaned the woman's face and arranged her hair into something less lumpy.

The old man lifted the unconscious woman onto the flat bed of the wagon quite easily, and led the animals off the pebbly, sandy beach and up the steep path to the coast road. Once they were on the road, he jumped up into his seat at the front and got the beasts trotting.

As they rolled up and down the two or three hills between the bay and the town, none of the three could stop turning to stare from time to time. Jiil could barely look away and she kept stroking the woman's hair as she hummed a lilting, discordant and wordless tune. She seemed unwilling to do anything with the glimmering flecks of light that appeared faintly in the air as she sang.

''You know that doesn't work, Jiil – just humming, I mean. Don't do anything wi' the aenimus, an' nothing happens!'' Jaak taunted with a sneer.

Jiil sighed melodramatically and retorted, ''Yes it does work!''.

''No, it really doesn't, Jiil. Even I know that!'' Jaak snapped back sarcastically.

''Yes, it really does, Jaak!'' Jiil mocked his tone. ''It depends what y' want. If I sing a song I feel better even if I waste what I quicken. I still feel th' moment, an' if that's all I want then it works!''

She scowled and resumed her chant, as well as her gentle stroking of the woman's face and hair.

The old man kept the animals trotting as quickly as he dared without making the cart jolt and shake too badly. When they arrived at a small white house not far before the town, he stopped, and Jaak jumped down to run to the door. He knocked urgently.

A small, stocky woman with squinting eyes in her dark, wrinkled face opened it, and beckoned to him, making it clear they should hurry. He jumped off the cart, and with help from the children lifted the unconscious body carefully and slowly into the house. The old woman indicated a threadbare couch against the far wall of the room, and when they had lain the young woman there, she ushered them all out insistently.

Jiil protested, ''Mama Yakiya, please let me stay and help you—!'' but was cut off as the old woman placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and fixed her with a kindly but firm gaze. Her indigo-black eyes seemed to grow and soften and what had looked rheumy, faded into opalescence. The thick-sinewy, surprisingly strong hand on Jiil's shoulder managed to find just the right pressure points inside; Jiil felt her ardour calming despite herself.

''Jiil, child – go and eat! You too, Jaak! And rest for crying out loud! You've both had a shock. I'll be doing no more than washing this poor girl and settling her down. Return in a few hours and we'll talk. I promise. She's not going anywhere just now!'' Her honed voice was far smoother than her creased face, and she talked with aristocratic expression that belied the rustic surroundings.

Jiil nodded reluctantly and followed Jaak out.

The man remained. ''Anything you'd like me to do, Mama Yakiya?''

Yakiya shook her head but smiled affectionately. ''No, thank you Ranu. You've done all you can in getting her here, you're a good heart. Those children are lucky to have you and Yekala. Go and eat too. Make sure they don't wolf theirs! I know children. They'll be back in a dozen ticks if they're allowed!''

They laughed together, nodding and sighing in mutual respect and understanding, and Ranu turned in silence, walked outside and closed the door gently behind him. He beckoned the children and the three drifted sombrely back to the road, arm-in-arm. As the cart drove away, Jiil gazed sadly back at Yakiya's house till it disappeared into the slope behind them.

The house was small and had a type of thatched roof common along the coast, made from thick, layered bundles of a certain leaf, then covered with a tight net of strings stretched and fixed to the ground at each corner of the house. A small garden outside was surrounded by thick, high bushes and a profusion of herbs and medicinal plants as well as food. She kept a few birds in a coop dug into the ground in a sheltered corner of the garden, and several small furry creatures scampered about nibbling the flowery lawn in front of the door.

Its low, curving walls were also common in this coastal region of the Empire, so ravaged by ocean storms. The gaps between stones were filled with wet clay also rendered evenly around the whole building, and dried hard for a smooth, white finish. The windows were sheets of thin-cut Obsidian that could be turned to let in a breeze. On the door hung a wreath that marked this place out as the home of a Cleric and to each side hung nets draped in bright-coloured climbing flowers. Around the sides and the back of the place grew a small orchard of squat, wind-blown trees which provided food and medicine, as well as some shelter from the battering winds.

Inside, a front room contained a low wooden table surrounded by sitting cushions on a couple of rugs, as well as the couch where the unconscious woman lay. The nearer half of the room was a kitchen that felt airy and light despite its size. Bunches of drying flowers and herbs hung from heavy wooden roof beams and gave the space a musty, floral smell. Curtains covered every wall from floor to ceiling, except the front wall of the kitchen, where a large window showed the garden outside.

Yakiya turned from the door and let its curtain drop back. A serious expression shadowed her face as she walked over to the couch, eyes focussing on her unwitting visitor.

Yakiya was short but stocky, and her strength was evident from her upright posture and the calm self-assurance in her eyes, which glimmered dark opalescent blue and gold. She was old enough for her hair to be almost completely silver, and it hung in long locks past her knees. She began winding these up, and when she'd tied the bunch inside itself, she wrapped it tightly in a long white cloth.

She moved quickly and deliberately, like someone far younger than she appeared. Her face was deeply wrinkled and creased, and she had several incongruous scars down each cheek that extended up across her temples and continued under her hairline. Once she had tied her hair up, she stood next to the bed and carefully ran her hands over the woman's prone form, pausing at several points to push and feel with her fingertips.

She raised a surprised eyebrow at the neck tattoo; on finishing her brief examination she frowned and shook her head, then walked across the room towards her kitchen with a long sigh. She took down several bunches of pale green leaves, as well as cooking implements, and everything out across her roomy kitchen workbench. Then she drew water into a pan from a glass pump over the large obsidian sink, and set it on the low black glass heating range.

She picked up a large shiny black glass spoon and opened the range to dig out a couple of scoops of ash, which she sprinkled into the pan of water. Then she fed the stove with small shards of wood from a basket on the floor, and blew inside till they caught from the embers. She took a flame with a taper and lit several wax candles around the room, before returning to close the stove. Then she turned to the warming pan.

She began crushing leaves into the warming water, and as she did so she hummed a strange, dissonant melody. The air around her began glowing, and she gathered some of it on her hands, which she washed into the water. She stirred with her spoon and began intoning sounds that might have been words if they were simpler, shallower, less resonant. As the liquid took on a pale grey aura and the wisps of sweet steam rising from it began to darken, she added new phrases till the final few syllables made the paste pulsate dully in the pan.

Yakiya took it off the stove and carried it over to where the unconscious woman lay. She set it on the floor and pulled back a curtain by the head of the couch; shelves stacked with myriad colours and types of cloth and material covered the wall. She carefully selected a long thin yellow piece and let its end dangle into the pot of grey liquid, making rest fold down after till the whole strip was submerged. Then as she hummed a few loud syllables, she lifted the soaked cloth from the pot and placed it carefully on the unconscious woman's throat.

She watched carefully for a few moments then, satisfied that no bad reaction would occur, crossed back to the kitchen and dragged a couple of cushions across to to the stove. She reached over to the sideboard and picked up a pipe and pouch lying there, then sat herself by the stove and carefully filled the pipe. She lit it with a taper and drew on it gently; a fragrant herbal smell infused the room and a contented smile spread across her face. She began to sing a gently meandering melody deep in her throat, and the air around her coruscated softly.

* * *

She opened her eyes, which were stinging and dry. All but one of the candles had burned out and it was dark. The stove had obviously burned low too, because the night chill was biting as she lay across her floor cushions with no blanket.

Fire on me, what happened? 



She sat up, rubbing her arms to warm herself, and lit a couple more candles with a taper ignited on stove embers. Then she added a few more pieces of wood to the fire inside. She suddenly had a feeling someone was watching her, and she turned to the bed where the unconscious woman was.

But she was no longer there, and nor was her dress – though the blanket and crusted poultice cloth were. Yakiya frowned.

Then came a gentle knock at the door, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. She took a deep breath and muttered to herself, blinking to clear her eyes a little as she walked to the door. She opened it warily.

There stood the unconscious woman, wide awake and dressed. and frowning in embarrassment as she shivered in the night air. She was still barefoot.

''May I come eh, back in?'' she asked with a sheepish smile and a cut-glass Obsidian City accent.

Yakiya nodded, stepping back and opening the door wide. The woman padded in, the door closed behind her, and Yakiya motioned her towards a cushion.

The woman picked up the blanket from where she'd left it and as she wrapped it tightly around herself she kicked one cushion next to the stove and sat down heavily, sighing. She raised her hands to her face and dropped her head into them; finally, silent sobs began to shake her.

Yakiya filled a pan, put it on the stove and shifted her own cushion closer to the weeping woman. She leaned over and embraced her, eventually beginning to hum a gentle soothing tune – nothing magical, just a little song she would sometimes sing to a sick or tired child she was taking care of. They sat like that for some time, and slowly the woman's tears abated.

Yakiya stood and prepared a glass pot of sweet-smelling tea, poured some into a pair of wooden cups and handed one to her. She sipped it gently, nodded in approval, sipped more, and finally spoke.

''I'm sorry – if I startled you. And thank you, for taking care of me. Your name is Mama Yakiya isn't it? I heard that while I was lying there'' She tilted her head slightly to indicate the bed. ''How long have I been here?'' Her voice was gentle and low, but scratchy from the salty water and choking.


Yakiya nodded graciously. ''My name's just Yakiya, though the people here call me Mama. You've been here less than a day, actually. Some children found you washed up on the shore and you were brought to me. You're lucky you washed up where you did – there isn't another town this close to the sea for a long way in either direction. And before you ask,'' she smiled with amusement, ''You're close to a town called Salt Marsh. Do you know where that is?''

The woman shrugged morosely and sighed. ''I don't care where it is. It's not where I'm supposed to be, so it doesn't matter where I am. Everything's gone. Everything!''

Yakiya regarded her quizzically. ''I'd say you're lucky to be alive at all. You could have washed up further south and been smashed to pieces on reefs or further north and landed in swampy quicksand. Instead of that you were found by children playing, and I happen to be the best healer for a week's travel in any direction. Nothing in this world is without purpose, so – talk to me. Why did you come back after you left so – dramatically?''

The woman looked up and smiled weakly at Yakiya.

Yakiya smiled back ''That's better. Tell me.''

The woman opened her mouth to speak but as her voice came, the word became a cough and the cough grew until it racked her. She even retched – though there was nothing to come out but a little tea. She swallowed it back, grimaced, sipped some more and took a deep breath, giving Yakiya a rueful look.

''That's why. I got outside, started walking down the road, realised I didn't know where I was – walked up onto the hill there and had a bit of a think. You looked after me and I think I want to trust you. I'm too sick to walk, I've got no money for a ride so – I had no choice but to come back. I hope it wasn't a mistake.''

Yakiya looked hurt. ''A mistake indeed! No, it was not. Yes, you can trust me! And then, can I trust you? You still haven't told me your name, young woman.'' She sounded stern and the woman smiled again.

''I see why they call you Mama. My name's Saiyali. People call me Sai but I don't really like it''

Yakiya chuckled, and nodded knowingly, ''Saiyali is a nice name, I can understand why you like it how it is. And where are you from, Saiyali? I assume from the badge on your neck that you belong to the Nashivaar family.'' Saiyali's hand flew to her neck and rubbed gently. Her eyes flashed darkly, and Yakiya sighed. ''Never mind that. Do you remember how you came to be washed up on our beach?''

Saiyali nodded. ''I was on my way – home. Oh, it's a long story!''

Yakiya shrugged, chuckling a little. ''Are you off somewhere then, Saiyali? Well, I'm not, I’m nice and comfortable at home! You tell, I'll listen, as well as keep hot tea coming. Would you like to smoke something? I have a few smoking herbs that would do your chest good just now.'' She smiled, and reached for her own pipe to begin filling it.

Saiyali's eyes widened as if this was a genuinely novel offer. ''Really? Yes, I would love – something. I know how to smoke but I – I haven't done it very often. I don't know what I would choose.''

Yakiya smiled and said, ''I do.'' She got up, walked to one of her long wall curtains, drew it back and took a tied up pouch from a drawer behind it. A pipe came from another drawer, and some tapers too. While she was turned away, Saiyali's smile dropped and her face revealed doubt and distrust. She had no idea what to make of this woman, who even knew what her tattoo meant.

Yakiya turned back and handed the items to Saiyali, whose face retook its grateful smile just as Yakiya turned to face her. ''This will relax you, and the smoke will dry and soothe your chest.'' She sat back down to light her own pipe as Saiyali filled the small one she'd been given, then inexpertly lit it. With some amusement, Yakiya watched her struggle and splutter – but when smoke was finally rising to infuse the room with intoxicating sweet aromas, they both sat back for a few minutes in silence.

Finally, Saiyali began speaking, her voice almost singing now as the smoke began working its way into her mind. She felt less like sitting on a cushion by a stove in a dark room, more like floating far away, an infinity of stars arrayed around her just waiting to hear what she had to say.

''I was on a ship, from Obsidian City. The Deep Rider. We sailed with the tide – that's what they said. It was a Moonday, I remember because it was a full moon as well. I chose the day because I like the full moon. I had everything with me, in a big box – ah it's all gone now–.''

She suddenly gasped and sat up, blinking. ''Oh, I remember! My Freedom Paper was in there! No!'' She burst into tears again.

Yakiya looked startled. ''Freedom Paper?'' Saiyali nodded and sniffed miserably.

''Was it a real one?'' Yakiya asked gently.

Saiyali nodded again, looking even more pained. ''It was a real one. Signed by Mama Saliki herself, all official, all legal.''

Yakiya raised a brow at the name but said nothing as Saiyali went on forlornly, ''But gone! I have to – I have to get it back – get another one! Without it, I'm dead – anyone will think I'm just an escaped slave!'' She sobbed, ''Ah, it took so long! I – for years I didn't even think I could, I ever would. I didn't think I'd ever get out.'' She paused, reflecting and shaking her head almost in disbelief.

She drew on the pipe again, gently so it would stay burning, and took a few breaths of smoke, reclining quietly for a little longer this time. Tears were squeezing from between Saiyali's eyelids and Yakiya sadly watched each one roll down her smooth, golden face.

Saiyali seemed lost in her own thoughts and oblivious to being watched. Uncomfortable, fearful expressions passed one by one over her face but finally she opened her eyes – Yakiya now noticed they were green – and when she began speaking again she sounded calmer and much more in control.

''I wasn't born a slave, Mama Yakiya. I was born in Marathy. I had a family. I—'' she hesitated, then went on,''—I got – kidnapped. I don't want to talk about that. I ended up a – a slave.''

She rubbed the back of her neck again, fingering the lines of the tattoo, and spoke more softly, a dark look coming into her eyes. ''At Nashivaar, in Obsidian City. Have you ever been there?''

Yakiya looked piercingly into the foreign green gaze for a long moment before answering. Her own eyes took on a stony glint as her hands clenched defensively. She was sure there was something this woman wasn't telling her, and she hesitated, frowning.

Saiyali suddenly coughed hackingly and the pain of it made her grimace and double up, groaning between the coughs that jolted her. She took a few rasping deep breaths to recover, then stood and swayed slightly, before taking a step across to the sink to spit into it. Then she frowned apologetically and carefully returned to sit down on her cushion, nodding to Yakiya and taking a few more soft breaths to calm herself.

Yakiya watched her cautiously, returning a nod as she sat. She gave a long, sympathetic sigh and finally took a deep, deliberate breath before answering, ''Yes, Saiyali. I've been to Obsidian City many times – I lived there myself, in my younger years. I still have – friends there, so I believe. And I have been to the Nashivaar estate – though it was evidently before you ever graced the place with your beauty.'' Saiyali shrugged. ''What were your duties there?'' Yakiya added.

Saiyali's nose twitched in an almost imperceptible sneer of disgust which Yakiya's own keen eyes caught easily. Before Saiyali could answer, she nodded sympathetically and broke in, ''No, no, you don't need to say. I can guess well enough, from your look.'' Her eyes glimmered sadly and she pressed two fingers into them and rubbed there, whispering a short sound. When she dropped her hand, her gaze was as clear as before, though softer.

Saiyali nodded slowly and sighed. ''Yes. I was there for Baba's and Mama's pleasure. I dance, I know a lot of dances and – well, yes. Not just dances – you know. I was their – one of their Body Girls.'' She frowned and went on angrily, ''Curse them! They didn't see a person. They called me beautiful, but they only saw a decoration, a pet! They never saw me!'' She beat her chestbone with three loud thuds, gave a heavy sigh and went on. ''Anyway – I was the best. At all of it. Especially dancing – I love dancing—'' Her face lit up as she said the words, ''—and that's something I remember from before – before I got, you know, kidnapped. I danced, I was – I was a Sun Dancer! Do you know what I mean?'' She suddenly realised she was assuming Yakiya knew about Marathy, something she knew few people in the Empire did or cared to. She felt a rush of foolishness.

Yakiya nodded curiously. ''I'm aware of some Marathy customs. Interesting, but – I feel sorry for them in a way. To live so joined all the time.''

Saiyali shrugged. ''It – I don't think it makes sense unless you – I don't know. Maybe you just have to feel it. I don't think I remember any more, I can't explain it. Maybe I could once, but now I don't know.''

She frowned and went on, ''But I can't get another ship without a Freedom Paper. I can't get an outlaw ship because I don't know any outlaws – anyway I haven't got anything valuable. Well, I've got myself but I'm not selling myself! Never! Never again!'' She paused, shaking her head hopelessly. She re-lit the pipe – a little more confidently this time – inhaled a breath, blew it out, inhaled another and held it in till she coughed it out. Finally she smiled, ''This is helping my chest – thank you! Again—''

Yakiya just returned a slow, acknowledging nod. Saiyali went on speaking slowly, her voice becoming softer again, abstracted, distant. ''It was dead dark from the clouds, the crew were all shouting – they were scared, they took down every sail. It was evening when the storm hit, it blew all night, into next morning. We got blown – I don't know, backwards, sideways, upside-down, wherever. I was so sick, sick sick.'' she shuddered. ''It was horrible. Seemed like it had to be over soon, but then – then the real storm hit. The ship got smashed, again and again – then the main mast came down. I got in a lifeboat and hung on. The lifeboat got crushed by another mast, I grabbed it, tied myself on. After that I only remember flashes, riding up and down huge waves in the dark. Must have passed out, I only remember water, water, wind, and darkness.''

She gazed at Yakiya and added, ''I think I thought I was dead. But then I heard your voice—'' She tailed off dramatically and silence fell, broken only by occasional cracks and pings from inside the stove. Yakiya patiently allowed the silence to stretch out, till after some time Saiyali continued as if she hadn't paused, ''—and there was a girl's voice, too.''

Yakiya nodded. ''Jiilin, a good child, from the town. She and her brother found you, and actually she was the one who cleared the water and sickness from your chest.''

Saiyali smiled kindly and looked at Yakiya frankly. ''Please thank her for me.''

Yakiya looked puzzled. ''But she'll be here in the morning, you'll have a chance to thank her yourself.''

Saiyali shook her head, the intrusion of future plans re-focusing her mind uncomfortably. ''No, no – I must be gone by then. I must. I've lost everything, even my freedom paper! If wardens find me I'll be in trouble. They'll think I'm escaped, maybe they’ll just execute me! Nashivaar is a long way, they won't wait days to check.'' She was frowning, troubled and scared.

Yakiya shook her head. ''Listen, no wardens will come for you here, stay as long as you wish.''

Saiyali bowed her head slightly, appearing genuinely upset. ''Mama – Mama Yakiya – I can't! What can I do here? I need to get back to the city as quickly as I can and speak to Mama Saliki, get her to re-make my freedom paper. Till I have it again, I'm as good as dead. Look at me – who'll believe I'm free if I can't prove I am? Even if I dress nicely, this mark is a giveaway! Someone will make me show papers and – I can't!'' She paused, her mind racing too fast to go on talking. She shook her head again. ''No – even if I stay here, in the end wardens will come! I can't just hide, and anyway I don't want to! I have to get my paper. Better sooner than later''

Yakiya looked thoughtful, examining Saiyali carefully and seriously. She knew what she said next might cause more problems than it solved, even for Saiyali – let alone for herself. She liked the girl – at her age everyone seemed like a child – but am I prepared to open that account again? Helping her is the right thing – but there's more to this girl than she's showing, I'm sure of that. Finally she smiled decisively. ''I mentioned I have friends in Obsidian City. Let's call them – associates. I've not seen them in a long time, but I know how to get them a message. It's possible someone might make a journey out here to escort you back safe.''

Saiyali tilted her head to look a little sidelong at Yakiya, as if she wasn't quite sure what she had in mind. ''I can't just ride in on a cart though, I'll get arrested! Still, at the City gate there's a chance they'll bother to contact Nashvaar to find out who I am. I don't really want to risk it but – I suppose I have to.'' Her reluctance showed on her screwed-up face.

Yakiya shook her head. ''Saiyali, I’m sure you’ll be able to get inside the city unnoticed. It's quite easy, if you know the right people – and I do. At least, I did. They can easily get you into the city quietly – let me send my message, see what comes back. It can't hurt to find out if my friends are still – friendly.'' She smiled, and Saiyali smiled back, relieved and grateful.

''Mama Yakiya, if you promise me I can trust you, then I will.'' Then she sighed, ''Still, what choice do I have, actually?''

Yakiya looked serious. ''Saiyali, arranging this is far more of a risk to me than it is to you; you certainly can trust me, and I don't know why but I feel I should trust you. Stay with me here, and we'll await a reply together. How does that sound?''

Saiyali nodded, slowly at first, but with more enthusiasm as the reality of what was being offered slowly dawned on her. ''Mama Yakiya, I'll stay. I admit I've no choice – but anyway I have everything to thank you for, and whether your message brings help or trouble, I'll meet it with you here. You saved my life. I'll trust you.''

* * *

One evening Saiyali arrived at Yakiya's front door, to discover for the first time since her arrival that it was locked. She frowned, worried, and knocked gently, head cocked to listen for any unexpected sound. She heard footsteps shuffle across the floor, and an inside bolt thud. Then the door opened, Yakiya smiled out at her, peered around the door and then beckoned her in. Saiyali ducked inside and Yakiya shot the bolt back into place with a smooth click. She whispered something at the door, which glowed briefly in response, then she pulled a curtain back across.

Saiyali raised a brow as she saw a short, dark woman dressed in dark grey and brown road gear, smelling pungently of unwashed travel, curled on the cushion closest to the stove. Her hood was down, and Saiyali noticed her hair was twisted into thin locks, rubbed with red dyes and wound together into multi-hued red and orange strands that were plaited together front-to-back across her scalp, giving the impression of flames leaping backwards over her head. Her eyes were very dark, with shimmering flecks of piercing red. She was grinning, and she leapt up to greet the newcomer. "My name's Bethifika, old friend o' Kiya's! Call me Fika if y' like. Or Beth. Just don't call me Thif!'' She laughed shrilly, as if she'd made a great joke.

Saiyali frowned as if unsure whether this was real or not. She gestured back towards the newly-locked door. ''Well, I mean. You must be important, if that's for your benefit!'' she chuckled.

Yakiya shook her head, smiling. ''No, Saiyali. It's for all our benefit. Bethifika here is something of an outlaw. I doubt anybody will knock, but it's always best to be safe. And we are, I promise you both.'' She smiled and sat herself back on her own cushion.

Saiyali took a steaming cup which Yakiya indicated was for her, and sat on the couch. She sipped and regarded Bethifika, who looked back silently. Yakiya watched them both, her smile broadening.

''Yes, yes, I believe this is perfect!'' she finally exclaimed. ''Saiyali, Fika's come from Obsidian City in response to the message I sent. She's probably the best person who could have come, too, you'll be absolutely fine with her. Tell her your problem, why don't you?''

Bethifika listened carefully, while Saiyali briefly explained the situation.

She finally nodded and looked at Yakiya approvingly. ''I can – that is, we can help.''

She looked back to Saiyali, nodding seriously. ''I can get y' t' the city unseen, 's easy. I can get y' into th' city, into Nashivaar Village too I expect. Getting 'cross town won't be easy, or nice. But def'nitely possible. Once y' there an' you've sorted y' things out, we can talk about what y' can do for us in return.''

Saiyali blinked. ''Do for you? I – I was hoping we could negotiate a price in gold or gems, or—''

Bethifika laughed, ''Let's see 'em, then, these gold or gems?''

Saiyali hesitated, and nodded, closing her eyes and sighing as she understood. ''Alright, you're right. I haven't got anything. I suppose that means you name the price. I can't do anything for anyone till I get my paper, so I've got no choice.''

Bethifika winked conspiratorially but said nothing.

Saiyali went on reluctantly, ''So, alright – get me to Nashivaar, and yes, we can talk about what I'll do for you—'' She paused, then added ''But who's your we then?''



Bethifika shook her head. ''No no, let's not go into all that jus' now. As long as y' trust me t' get y' t' Nashivaar – an' as long as y' mean what y' just said – we got a deal. Look, I came t' see what Yakiya wanted, an' since it's about you, we can even start back tonight – after me an' Kiya 've had a bit of a catch up. Here—'' she added, with a grin tossing a cloth bag across to Saiyali before turning to beam at Yakiya.

Saiyali pursed her lips as she dug through the bag – then with a frown demanded, ''Eh – this has clerical robes inside?''

Bethifika had been about to speak to Yakiya, but at the complaint in Saiyali's voice she turned back with a sardonic gleam in her red-black eyes and raised a brow sharply. ''Yes? To disguise us? So that no kindly stranger who offers us a free ride notices that you're, ah, a runaway slave?'' Then she chuckled dryly.

But Saiyali shook her head, genuinely confused. Under two pairs of sympathetic eyes she struggled to express her confusion. ''But – I mean – nobody's going to believe I'm a cleric, are they? Look at me – have you ever seen a cleric as pale as this?'' She dropped the bag gently next to her, and turned both hands in front of her face, beginning to frown with worry.

Bethifika raised a brow. ''Y' mad, ah? I'll be a Cleric – same as I was on th' way here! You'll be a Noviate – mask an' gloves in there too, right? That way, y' can't even talk t' nobody but me – not allowed, see?'' Then she gave a sudden grin – and Yakiya chuckled too, as a dramatic look of understanding erupted through Saiyali's frown, and her consternation melted into comprehension.

She nodded, satisfied. The air between them softened, and Saiyali regarded Bethifika with fresh respect as she added more meekly, ''So maybe – maybe I could know a bit more about you? I mean, you know all about me now—''

A look passed between them that Saiyali didn't understand; but Bethifika just laughed and shook her head, ''No, Kiya – you're a better teller than I am! Go on––''

Yakiya thought for a moment before shrugging. ''I don't know how to put it, other than we saved each other's lives. That sounds so melodramatic, doesn't it?'' She laughed heartily, and the headwrap full of her long, long hair shook in response. She began refilling her pipe, and indicated to Bethifika that she should do the same.

Bethifika shook her head. ''Don't do any o' that now, Kiya. Gives me headaches. I like t' be clear. Remember, I still live there, ah?''

She winked, and Yakiya nodded sagely. ''Fair point. Out here, things are a lot more – restful. Yes. Well, Saiyali – like I say, we saved each other's lives. I saved Bethifika's first, and it's hard to believe but I did it just after I'd killed somebody.'' She paused to light her pipe, and Saiyali looked between them. Bethifika was watching Yakiya with eyes that didn't hide the love and respect she felt. Yakiya simply lit the pipe, lay the taper on top of the glass stove, and went on. ''Saiyali, I was once an assassin. I know it's probably hard to believe now but I was young then, and even assassins have to get old one day. Ha! If they're lucky!'' She laughed deeply again, and pulled on the pipe a couple of times before continuing. ''Have you ever heard of the Sisterhood of Shadows?''

Saiyali nodded slowly, her mouth dropping open before she caught herself, blinked, coughed, straightened up and answered. ''Well – yes – I mean – everybody has—'' she hesitated, thinking, ''But – I mean, it's not real, is it? I thought it was just what – you know – people tell children to make them behave?''

She looked uncertainly between them and Yakiya again got a sense that she wasn't saying something. In the end though, she smiled gently and shook her head. ''No, Saiyali. The sisterhood is real'' She looked as if she wanted to say more, but Saiyali appeared uncomfortable and Bethifika made a curious ''Hmm'' as she looked from one of them to the other.

Saiyali eventually sighed and held out an appealing hand. ''My – Baba Nashivaar, was killed by them. That's one of the reasons Mama let me go – she didn't want me there any more because I reminded her of him. She gave me my paper, and she told me how he died.'' She shook her head and lowered her eyes meekly. ''That's all. It was frightening.''

Yakiya looked frankly amazed and shook her head. ''Well, well, well—'' that tailed off into a simple look of astonishment. She looked quizzically at Bethifika, not asking anything in words but her eyes held a question; Bethifika just nodded and grunted affirmatively.

Saiyali looked at her, apparently aghast. ''You as well?''

Bethifika roared with laughter, ''No no! I aint. But I move in, ah, similar circles y' might say. And I def'nitely hear news like a powerful Baba getting done. Th' Sisterhood did it, though I don't know why.'' She shrugged and added, ''An' I'm no Shadow Sister, even if I might know one or two. Maybe you did, when y' lived there.'' Saiyali blinked awkwardly but Bethifika chuckled and went on regardless, ''That's th' point – nobody knows who they are; everybody thinks they're just a story. But they're not.'' She sipped her tea and looked back to Yakiya.

Saiyali regarded Bethifika for a moment or two longer, then reluctantly looked back to Yakiya after she began speaking once again. ''Well. I was on my way back from a—'' Yakiya sighed and shook her head. ''—a resolution. That's what they call it, resolution. I was wandering the streets afterwards, feeling horrible, really horrible – and shocked because I'd never felt so bad before. This particular resolution was—'' she hesitated and shook her head. ''No. I'll just say this: it was the last time I took a life. Anyway, I was just