Tamsyn held up a hand. It was a mark of how her power had increased that everyone fell silent at once.
“I know that what I say is blasphemy to some,” she said. “I am not unaware of the power of the dark weapons. But consider this; Markswomen are protected by kalishium blades from the madness that leaks from death-sticks. We would not use them indiscriminately. Think of it as an execution like any other. Only quicker, safer, and much more efficient. Once the Taus are eliminated, the dark weapons—all of them, including the Taus’—can go right back into the safekeeping of the Order of Valavan. The whole of Asiana will be a safer place, and we would not be putting our lives at needless risk.”
“But we would be risking our souls.”
Kyra’s voice, high and wavering, caught even herself by surprise. The group of men and women in front of her parted and she walked to the center of the hall, willing her steps to be steady. There was a gasp of recognition from someone, Navroz perhaps.
And then she was standing before Tamsyn. The Hand of Kali stared at Kyra, shock and rage twisting her beautiful face. Her voice rang out, heavy with the Inner Speech. “Renegade! Bow before your Mahimata and beg the mercy of her blade.”
Kyra’s knees buckled. No. She was not a renegade. Tamsyn was not her Mahimata. She. Would. Not. Bow.
Her forehead beaded with sweat and she trembled with the strain, but she straightened up. Shurik’s betrayal had been good for something, after all. Compulsion had hardened her. She had broken Shurik’s bonds, and she wouldn’t let Tamsyn take over her mind. Not now, and not ever again. Tamsyn’s expression changed from rage to disbelief.
Unduni rapped her staff on the floor. Her voice was stern. “I will have no use of the Inner Speech during this meeting, Tamsyn. Is that understood?”
Tamsyn bowed to the mediator. When she looked up to speak, her face was composed. Only Kyra could know the effort this cost her.
“I apologize, Unduni. May I be allowed to speak?”
“Of course,” said the headwoman of Arallin, the relief on her face palpable.
“This is none other than Kyra Veer,” said Tamsyn, “the Markswoman I spoke of earlier, the one who executed Maidul Tau. What I did not tell you is that she is a thief and a renegade. On the night of Shirin Mam’s death, Kyra stole the blade of the old Mahimata and used it to make her escape. I have been trying to find her for months, both to retrieve Shirin Mam’s katari and to persuade her to return to the Order.”
Unduni frowned. “This is an internal matter of the Order of Kali and does not belong in the assembly. You will talk to her later, yes?”
“No,” said Kyra, her voice a croaky whisper. Unduni gave her a questioning look.
“No!” she said, her voice stronger. She stepped forward and faced Tamsyn, her heart pounding. There was no going back now. It had to be done. From the corner of her eye she could see Rustan, his face devoid of color.
He thinks he is about to witness my death. She felt a surge of pity for him.
“Do I have permission to speak?” she asked Unduni.
“You do,” said the headwoman, leaning forward on her staff, her face attentive.
Kyra took a deep breath. “I speak not only for myself, but for those who have no voice in this assembly: the novices and apprentices of Kali. We did not know how blessed we were to have a teacher like Shirin Mam. When she died, we lost not only our leader, but also our spiritual guide. Tamsyn will lead the Order of Kali to ruin. Witness her suggestion that we use the dark weapons. Who knows better than I how evil they are? Only someone morally corrupt would even think of using the death-sticks. And only someone utterly heartless would kill her own teacher to become the Mahimata herself. I do not recognize Tamsyn’s right to rule the Order of Kali. I hereby challenge her to a katari duel.”
Shock waves rippled through the gathering. Tamsyn actually gasped. For once, Kyra had managed to catch her off guard. She felt a small stab of satisfaction at that.
“You have made a serious accusation, Markswoman,” said Unduni grimly. “Do you have any evidence to support this claim?”
As Kyra hesitated, she saw Tamsyn’s lips curl in a sneer. None of those present would understand about Anant-kal, or believe that she had met Shirin Mam after her death. Finally she said, “I have no evidence. But it is what I know to be true, nevertheless. Tamsyn has gained the title of Mahimata through murder and deceit.”
“It is within your right to challenge the head of your Order to a duel,” said Unduni. “But you are young, and you are the last of the clan of Veer. I ask you to reconsider.”
Kyra bowed her head. “Yes, I am the last of my clan,” she said, “and I have sworn to avenge the killing of my family. But my first duty is to my Order, and while Tamsyn casts her shadow on the caves of Kali, none of us are safe.”
“My dear Kyra,” said Tamsyn, looking like a snake about to strike, “you are mistaken. I had nothing to do with the untimely death of our dear teacher. I loved her, as you did. Return to the Order, and please give me a chance to prove you wrong.”
There were murmurs of agreement in the hall and Kyra could imagine what people were thinking: such a wise, patient Mahimata, to not lose her temper with this insolent child.
Kyra kept her voice as calm as Tamsyn’s. “Give you a chance to murder me, you mean? No thanks. Here there are only you and I, and the sharpness of our blades.”
Tamsyn gave a tinkling laugh that made Kyra feel as if a spider was walking up her spine. “Indeed. And what is it that makes you so bold, little deer? The blade of Shirin Mam, I warrant.”
“I no longer carry the blade of Shirin Mam,” said Kyra. “I will fight you with my katari alone.”
Tamsyn’s eyes narrowed. “Oh really? Then pray tell, where is Shirin Mam’s katari?”
“It has found another guardian,” said Kyra. “Someone who can protect it until its true destiny is revealed.”
“The blade of Shirin Mam protects itself.” Rustan stood and every gaze turned toward him. “But I carry it until it is needed elsewhere.”
He reached into his robes, withdrew the ancient blade from its scabbard, and held it aloft. It caught the afternoon light filtering through the stained glass windows of the hall, and sparkled joyously. There were gasps of wonder from the assembled people.
Tamsyn caught her breath and hissed, “The blade of Shirin Mam belongs to the Order of Kali. By what right do you hold it captive, Marksman?”
“A right greater than yours,” Rustan countered.
Kyra frowned at that. What did Rustan mean? Why had he even spoken? She hadn’t meant to reveal that the katari was with him.
“Explain yourself, Marksman,” said Unduni.
“That’s right, Marksman. Explain yourself,” taunted Tamsyn. “Who are you to lay a claim on Shirin Mam’s katari?”