Chapters (102)
Awa unsettled stomachs or called bees to sting bald heads, outside the Nightmare Gates. She put the vilest characters out of commission for days, provided a respite for everyone, and never killed a soul. Wielding a polyrhythm of curse and blessing, she let people poison themselves. Even stomping Jod in Rainbow Square had been self-defense, not revenge. Hopefully she hadn’t wrecked her heart spirit slaughtering so many cathedral trees.
“I poured libation to crossroads gods.” Awa lied with truth, a Holy City habit.
“Curses lurk inside you,” the poison master said, “for fathers and witchdoctors.”
“I curse nobody,” Awa said. The poison master was probably beyond her modest skill, like Hezram. “A little torment. Trickster crows are happy to oblige.”
“Good girl.” He nodded as they left grain fields behind and rode into a scrub brush wasteland. Cathedral trees hugged the riverbanks. “When I was a captive on a pirate ship, I cursed too many folks—ruined my heart.”
Awa considered him with new interest. Such a powerful medicine man had been a captive? Despite the fortress-spell, he rubbed his chest as if his heart ached for the evil he’d done. Rumbles under the roadbed interrupted her inspection. “Do you hear?” she said, a challenge as much as a question.
The poison master tensed. “The roots warn us, warn everyone.”
Trees swayed as if in the grip of a tempest. The Amethyst River twisted around a bend and swelled over its banks. Torrents of mud-brown water inundated its placid blue-green currents. Swarms of insects rushed ahead of feasting bats.
“Zst!” Awa said.
“What? Do the roots say more?”
Awa shook her head. “My friends Meera and Rokiat raced off on warhorses. I don’t know which direction they took.” She was furious with them, yet still hoped they’d made it across the city bridge. “Meera and I would have ridden off together, tomorrow.”
“What about the other transgressors tomorrow?” His anger was a smack.
How was Awa responsible for them? “We planned an escape, not a rebellion.”
“Apocalypse on our heels. We must all hurry.” Singing conjure music, he urged Fannie to a fast trot.
“Even she won’t last at this pace,” Awa said. “Flesh and blood have limits.” Escape with one rider would be faster.
This must have also occurred to the poison master. “I can’t abandon you, child. The mare loves you. A broken heart won’t take me far.”
Fannie slowed to a pace she could maintain without breaking her heart.