Shirin Mam barely glanced at the parchment before returning it to Kyra. “And what do you think it is?”
“There are ten primes,” said Kyra. “They must be the codes to a set of doors.” She hesitated before asking the question that had been haunting her. “Why me, Mother?”
“Felda thinks that special sets of primes might hold the key to every door in any Hub,” said Shirin Mam, ignoring her question. “There is more than one Hub in the Ferghana, you know. Keep these safe.”
Kyra felt a chill creep up her spine. “You mean me to use these codes, don’t you?” she persisted.
The Mahimata cocked her head. “Not I, Kyra,” she said gently. “You mean to use them yourself. Why else would you carry them around with you?”
What was Shirin Mam talking about? Kyra had the codes because she had forgotten the parchment was in her pocket—that was all.
“Let us try again,” said Shirin Mam. “Why did you not come to me with the solution?”
“Because of the dream.” The words spilled out before she could stop them.
A door—there was always a door. It stood in the middle of a featureless landscape, and Kyra would walk up to it and extend her katari to open it.
No! The real Kyra would shout to the dream Kyra. Don’t. Can’t you sense the emptiness beyond?
But dream Kyra couldn’t, or wouldn’t listen. She would slide the tip of her katari into the slot, the slot would glow blue, and the door would slide open. Beyond was utter blackness, and the black would open its maw to suck her in, drowning her in nothingness.
Shirin Mam was watching her.
“What will come, will come,” said the Mahimata. “A dream is only a dream, but you make it more so with your fear.”
“Is it only my fear, Mother, that there is a door I will open that would eat me alive? That would eat this entire world alive?” Kyra’s voice shook slightly at the end.
Shirin Mam’s tone became cooler. “Regardless of your fear, you will do what you have to do. And I don’t know what lies in your destiny.”
You lie, thought Kyra.
“Not to my knowledge,” said Shirin Mam drily. Kyra flushed. “Is there something else you wish to talk to me—or not talk to me—about? You are going to be late for Mathematics. Felda will have something to say about that.”
Kyra knew when she was being dismissed. But she drew a deep breath and plunged ahead. “Yes, Mother, there is something else. It has been a few weeks since my first mark. Is it not time for my second?”
“Good,” said the Mahimata. “I like a sense of duty. The elders of Kalam have sent an urgent missive. They need a Markswoman to deliver justice. It is but a few hours’ ride from here. I had meant to send Tonar Kalam; it is her clan, after all, and they have asked for her. But you will do just as well. Go the day after tomorrow, with my blessing.”
Kyra’s mouth dropped open in dismay. She had asked, so she had no one to blame but herself. But she didn’t want to go around executing random strangers, and she definitely didn’t want Tonar’s mark.
Shirin Mam frowned at her expression. “What is the matter, child?”
As if you do not know. “Mother, I have vowed to wipe out the outlaw clan of Tau.”
“You plan to kill them all?” asked Shirin Mam. “There must be over thirty of them now, not counting the women and children.”
“I will kill all who deserve it,” said Kyra. “And Kai Tau will be the last. Let him watch his people die one by one.” Her heart contracted. Let him suffer as I have suffered.
Shirin Mam gave her a penetrating look. “You are not ready for your second mark, Kyra. I will have to send Tonar Kalam after all. You will accompany her, as a penance.” The Mahimata held up her hand. “No, not another word. You remember all your pain, you carry it on your back, and you are so bowed down by its weight that you cannot see the truth. I have told you before that being a Markswoman is not about taking revenge. If you kill in anger, you are no better than the ones you execute. The katari is not meant to be used in this way.”
“You let me execute Maidul Tau,” said Kyra.
“I set Maidul as your first mark because by executing Kai Tau’s eldest son, you strike at the heart of the Taus. You deprive them of their future,” said Shirin Mam. She paused and added, “I had hoped that your first mark would teach you something. I was wrong.”
Kyra’s face burned, but she said, “Mother, at least let me take down the original twelve who murdered my family.”
“No. I’ll not have any Markswoman of mine throw her life away.”
“But, Mother,” protested Kyra.
“One day,” said Shirin Mam, “the time will come and you will confront Kai Tau. For now, I expect you to concentrate on your classes, obey your elders, and practice the art of forgetting. The one thing you have not learned.”
“Yes, Mother.” Kyra bowed and backed away, unsettled and dissatisfied. Before she had taken more than a few steps, Shirin Mam said, almost as an afterthought, “Be here at the hour of dinner tomorrow night. You need an extra lesson.”
Kyra’s heart sank. The Mahimata must have heard about her abysmal performance in the advanced classes. And now she was going to miss the evening meal tomorrow. A coincidence? Or punishment for her earlier insolence?
As she walked out of the cell, she replayed the unsatisfactory conversation. She’d gotten no clear answers about the set of primes and why she might need it. And she was no closer to a second mark than before—though she was grateful she would not be taking Tonar Kalam’s mark.
It wasn’t as if she thought there was any honor in killing. Maidul’s look of shock as he stared at the katari protruding from his chest still haunted her.
But she would not be weak. When the chance came to take down another Tau, she would grab it with both hands. If only she could find their camp again. Why did Shirin Mam not let her try? It was both her right and her duty. She had never questioned the Mahimata’s judgment, and she didn’t want to start now, but why couldn’t Shirin Mam have given her some sort of explanation, or perhaps a timeline? One Tau murderer a year, leaving Kai Tau for the last. Twelve years to take her revenge, twelve years to “learn” whatever it was that the Mahimata seemed to think she lacked. Wasn’t that reasonable?
“I could have told you that you’d get nothing out of her.”
Kyra spun around, hand going to her katari.
Tamsyn laughed and stepped out of the passage where she had been standing.
“I have named you well. You startle as easily as a deer.”
“Forgive me, Elder. I must be going.” Kyra made as if to pass her, but Tamsyn blocked her way with a slim, outstretched arm.