Bridge of Dreams (57 page)

=Zhahar?= Zeela sounded groggy.

*You need to rest,* Zhahar said, not wanting to get into an argument and knowing she would if Zeela didn’t sink back into rest.

=We all need to rest. We need to
sleep.
It’s been too many days since we got real sleep. I missed a couple of easy blocks today and have the bruises to prove it.=

*You missed those blocks because you forgot that Sholeh is taking that medicine to calm her nerves, and it’s strong enough to affect all of us,*
Zhahar snapped. *You forgot, so you went out last night and got stinking, fall-down drunk, and I had to clean up the puke after you passed out. You forgot—*

=I haven’t forgotten anything,= Zeela snarled. =And you gulping down a glass of firewater isn’t going to help.=

A brittle silence filled the little kitchen.

*We were sent to the darkest landscape that resonated with the heart of Sholeh Zeela a Zhahar,* Zhahar said wearily. *When you connected with that Knife and got work so fast, I thought it was a sign that this was where we were supposed to be, that Sholeh and I would find something here too. I thought it was a sign that we ended up on a shadow street that had been touched by the wizards, that our presence might do some good. But after you started reporting for training every day and Sholeh and I could come into view only in our room or when one of us went out to the market, I began to realize what it had been like for you and Sholeh when I worked as a Handler, how limited your lives were. How limited our lives would be from now on, no matter which one of us is supporting us.*

=We were all able to have a bit of a life when you worked at the Asylum, at least for a while.=

Zhahar hesitated, but this wasn’t something she had a right to hide from the warrior aspect of their Tryad. *The last couple of times I went to the market, there was talk—people commenting about how they never see us together, and isn’t it strange that we’re doing washing and such late at night when two of us are home during the day and could be putting that time to use.*

=Busybodies,= Zeela grumbled. =All
they
do is talk.=

But Zhahar heard the uneasiness under the grumble, so she said the rest. *A story has started going around about a kind of demon the wizards brought with them to act as their servants and spies—a demon that can wear more than one face but has only one body.*

Now Zeela swore. =We need to go. Sholeh needs to get off that medicine so her head is clear and she can help us. Then we need to pack up and go.=

*Not yet. Not yet,* she repeated when Zeela started to protest. *If you
can finish your training with the Knife Guild, you’ll have a better chance of finding work in another part of Vision. I’ll push Sholeh to remember what she learned about other parts of the city, parts that weren’t directly touched by the wizards. We can hold on long enough for you to get your journeyman’s badge.”

=How many other Tryad held out too long?= Zeela asked grimly.

Because she knew the answer, Zhahar said nothing. She waited until Zeela drifted back down to rest. Then she reached into her pocket and took out the little bag that held the one-shot bridge Sebastian had given them. She stared at it while she sipped the firewater, hoping the alcohol would pull her into sleep.

They could use that one-shot bridge to leave Vision, and she would insist that Zeela use it if they were in life-threatening danger. But every time she looked at the bag, she knew with a certainty she couldn’t explain that if they used it, if they tried to slip around this part of the journey that Heart’s Justice demanded of them, they would get a glimpse of what they needed at the moment it disappeared from their lives.

Tucking the bag back into her pocket, she got up, rinsed out the glass, and went into the bedroom to try to give them all the sleep they needed.

A
nswering the summons, Zeela stepped into the doorway of the guild-house room that served as Primo’s office. A swarthy man with a long scar on his left cheek, he was First Knife, the leader of the Knife Guild in the northwestern part of Vision. When she had been brought before him, he had been sufficiently impressed with her fighting skills to make her a guild apprentice, and she had worked hard every day since then to earn a guild badge. Judging by the look on his face, whatever he had to tell her wasn’t something she wanted to hear.

“Come in, Zeela,” Primo said. “Have a seat.”

She sat because he was First Knife and he had earned that title.

He settled on the corner of the old desk. Funny to think of him doing accounts and paying bills, but the guild was a business like any other. They were just selling a different kind of skill.

“You need to find another place, Zeela,” Primo said kindly. “The shadow streets around here turned dark and mean while those pus-filled wizards fouled our city, and even with the Shamans assigned to the northwest, it will take some time to turn it back to what it was.”

“I can help you,” she said quickly. “I know I was late and didn’t go out with the rest of the team this morning, but—”

“Your sister was crying again,” Primo said. “The youngest one. Sholeh. I see it in your face.” He leaned toward her. “If it was just you, I’d let you stay. You’ve got skill, girl, and you would have made a good Knife one day. But it’s not just you, is it? And this part of Vision is no place for your sisters. Especially young Sholeh. And even Zhahar was roughed up when she went to the market, and could have gotten more than a black eye if you hadn’t shown up to help her carry the bags home. Yes, I heard about that.”

Zeela looked at the floor. Ever since Zhahar was assaulted, they were barely able to convince Sholeh to come into view, even in their room. And the Sholeh they knew was fading away a little more every day, hardly interested in existing, let alone living.

But Zhahar still believed they could hold out a little longer,
needed
to hold out a little longer, even if she couldn’t explain why.

Primo leaned back and studied Zeela in a way that made her want to fidget.

“There are rumors spreading in the streets around here about a three-faced demon who slipped into the city with the wizards. You’ve heard these rumors?”

Not with the wizards
, she thought as her heart pounded.
But that won’t make any difference. Not now.
“I’ve heard them.”

“I contacted brethren in other parts of Vision, asking if they had heard these rumors. Most had heard nothing, but one had met a trio of sisters he called a three-sided heart and spoke well of them.” Primo looked pointedly at Zeela’s left bicep. The tattoo was covered now, but all the Knives had seen it during the training sessions. “His words carry enough weight with me that I would have let you stay, and will still tell the rest of the brethren what he told me so that they will know the rumors are false. But that won’t help your sisters. That won’t keep them safe in the market.”

No, the guild believing she wasn’t a demon wouldn’t keep Zhahar and Sholeh safe. By the triple stars, they had tried to hold on long enough build a life here. Hadn’t they tried?

“Got you a ticket on a passenger coach,” Primo said. “It leaves in the morning.”

“Going where?” Zeela asked, feeling weighed down by emotions.

“Going to the heart of Vision.” He leaned toward her. “Go to The Temples if you can find them. Talk to some of the Shamans there.”

“I could talk to the Shamans who come around here.”

“No, girl. You and your sisters need to be somewhere else.” Primo leaned back. “I do have a couple of things for you.” He picked up a small bag from his desk and handed it to her. “Everyone tossed in a coin from his last job. Travel money.”

“You gave me my pay from my last assignment.”

“I know. This is from your brethren. Our way of wishing you good fortune on your journey. Then there is this.” He picked up the brass badge that was worn by a journeyman Knife. “In the ordinary way of things, I would have waited a couple more months for this, had you working with someone a while longer. But you’ve earned it. Any First in the city will consider your credentials if you want to keep training and working with the guild. Even if you don’t, that badge would help you get guard work.”

“Thank you.” She took the badge—and swallowed tears.

Primo stood. “You’ll find your place.” He looked a little uncomfortable. “I’ll take it as a kindness if you let me know where you settle.”

She stood too. “I’ll do that.” She lifted the ticket, the bag of coins, and the badge. “Thank you for this.”

He offered his hand—something he rarely did. She gripped that hand, then stepped back.

=Aren’t either of you going to say anything?= she asked when she reached their lodgings. =I did my best.=

*We all did,* Zhahar replied. *But he’s right, Zeela. It’s time for us to move on.* An odd note came into Zhahar’s voice as she whispered, *It
is
time.*

=Do you think our relocating to another part of Vision will make any difference?=

*Primo thinks it will. And if we go to The Temples, we can ask for Shaman
Danyal. Maybe he could help us, or at least give us advice, based on knowing we’re a Tryad. We have to hope it will make a difference.*

=Why?=

That odd note came into Zhahar’s voice again. *If we don’t hope, how can we change anything?*

Zeela had no answer, so she and Zhahar took turns packing up their things. They didn’t ask Sholeh about her books. They simply packed them, accepting the sore muscles that would come from hauling the extra weight. The books were as close to life as Sholeh had seen lately. They couldn’t ask her to leave even one behind—especially when they were afraid they were losing her.

T
hey reached the bazaar at the center of Vision after a day’s travel. Instead of pushing on to find The Temples, they had to take a room when Zeela suddenly became dizzy and couldn’t seem to hold on to her thoughts. That’s when Zhahar realized that Sholeh had been submerged for so many days that she and Zeela had ignored the necessity of regular meals. Now Sholeh’s aspect was physically out of balance to such a degree that Zhahar considered what would happen to them if she had to take Sholeh and Zeela to a clinic.

She got them to the room and went out again for food, hoping that she would get back before Sholeh’s disorientation began to show in her too.

She bought flatbread filled with soft cheese, dates, and chopped nuts; a ball of brown rice carried in a paper shaped like a flower; and a stick of cooked meat. Back in the room, she took a mouthful of each type of food, eating slowly. Then she prodded Zeela to come into view and do the same thing. Once Zeela felt steadier, the two of them managed to get Sholeh into view—and forced her to stay there until she took a bite of each kind of food and drank a glass of water.

Throughout that evening, Zhahar forced the rotation until the food
was gone. By then, Zeela was exhausted but back to normal, and Sholeh, while sounding frail, was lucid again.

The next morning, Zhahar went out to the food stalls for another flatbread. Once she was back inside, she divided the flatbread into three pieces. When Sholeh resisted, Zhahar became insistent.

*We’re going to find The Temples today,* she said. *But
not
until we’ve all eaten and washed up.*

::I don’t have to wash,:: Sholeh said faintly. ::No one is going to see me.::

=You still have to wash,= Zeela said. =It’s been too many days since you had a full bath.=

*Which we can’t do today,* Zhahar broke in when she felt Sholeh start to protest. *The room has only a sink and a toilet, so we’re all taking sponge baths.*

They finished up so late in the morning they had to take all their bags with them or pay for the use of the room for another day. After wandering the bazaar for a couple of hours, Zhahar wished they’d kept the room.

=The entrance is supposed to be here,= Zeela snarled. =At least, this is the direction everyone we asked pointed to.=

In the city of Vision, you can find only what you can see
, Zhahar thought.
So who would be able to see The Temples?

She lugged their bags into an open space between two stalls. *Be quiet for a minute. Let me try something.*

Holding on to the straps of her bags, she closed her eyes and thought of Danyal walking the Asylum grounds, holding a wind chime because it was the sound of joy.

The wind chime, singing in the air and lifting the heart.

She opened her eyes and looked at the archway between the stalls.
THE TEMPLES
was carved into the arch.

*Found it,* she whispered. Settling the bags over her shoulders as best she could, she crossed into the part of Vision that belonged to the Shamans.

She paused in front of the Temple of Sorrow, then spotted a figure in a wheat-colored robe standing outside another building farther down the road.

“Good day to you,” Zhahar called. “Could you help me?”

The person—a woman, judging by the shape of the face—smiled and lifted her hands as if to say “Maybe” or “I don’t know.”

“Do you understand me?”

A nod.

“Can you speak?”

Fingers touched the material covering her throat, followed by a head shake.

“Oh.” Zhahar caught her lower lip between her teeth. The woman
did
understand her, so if she phrased her questions carefully, she might still get answers. “I need help. I came to The Temples for guidance.”

The woman spread her arms wide, as if to say there was help and guidance all around them.

“Yes, there are many Shamans here, but I was looking for Shaman Danyal. Do you know him?”

A nod.

“Is he here?”

Head shake.

Zhahar sighed. Could she trust another Shaman with the secret of what she was?

The woman pointed to her own eye, then patted her chest.

When Zhahar said nothing, the woman did it again.

::Could I see?:: Sholeh asked.