Page 65 of The Gilded Ones

Britta’s eyebrows rise. “The combat state?” she asks disbelievingly.

I can’t blame the others for not knowing more about it. White Hands refuses to teach them, saying it would be a wasted effort, since they don’t have the abilities I do. “When I’m in it, White Hands says I see things clearer than I normally do. This is one of those things. Ixa means us no harm.”

De…ka… Ixa agrees.

“Yer mad,” Britta says. “Ye know that, right?”

I sigh, getting back into bed and pulling the covers around me. I’m not arguing any longer. “How about this: I’ll talk to White Hands about Ixa tomorrow. If she tells me to get rid of him, I’ll consider it.”

“Fine,” Britta huffs. “But I want to be right there, watching ye tell her.”

“Fine,” I reply.

I wait until I hear their grumbling footsteps receding before I glance at Ixa. Just don’t prove them right, all right? I whisper silently.

De…ka… is his reply.

He snuggles up beside me and, together, we fall asleep.

White Hands is sprawled on her usual carpet, a jug of palm wine in hand, when I arrive at the lake to take lessons the next evening. Assorted dried fruits and a plate of cheeses keep her company. White Hands loves her indulgences – that much will never change. I’m the first to arrive, so she pats the space beside her.

“Have a seat, Deka,” she says.

“Yes, Karmoko,” I reply, kneeling to her in the traditional greeting before I reluctantly sit beside her, my muscles clenched tight.

I know I have to tell her about Ixa, but I’m not sure of what to say. Besides, Britta isn’t here yet, and I promised I’d wait until she arrived to talk to White Hands about him.

“I’m told your first raid was a success,” she murmurs, pouring a goblet of palm wine and handing it to me.

I shake my head, declining it. “Yes, Karmoko, we defeated all the deathshrieks nesting in the cave.”

“Wonderful,” she murmurs, that ever-present amused look in her eyes. She takes a swig of the wine. “And did you learn anything about your gift in the process?”

I immediately think about the way the knowing flowed inside me while I was in the cave, the way the deep combat state took over almost as soon as my blood tingled a warning. I didn’t have to meditate, didn’t have to force myself into it, it just came when I needed and then left when I didn’t.

“I think I’m starting to understand how it works,” I finally reply.

“And how does it work?”

“The combat state is connected to my blood. If my blood rushes, it stimulates the combat state. That’s why I had to run or be panicked before in order to experience the combat state. And I now know how the voice works too. I think it affects the deathshrieks’ bodies.” I remember now the way I started sensing deathshriek heartbeats before I saw them – making them slow every time I gave a command. “Power rushes out of me, and that’s what causes their bodies to react – to slow. That’s why they do whatever I will them to,” I finish.

Something about my words causes White Hands’s brow to furrow. A strange, excited look shines in her eyes. “So you don’t actually have to speak… What if, instead of concentrating on using your voice, we concentrated on directing your power, channelling it?”

“How?” I ask, intrigued.

“Targeted movements. A dance, as it were.” White Hands taps her lip, deep in thought now. “Yes…I think we must come up with a martial art especially for you.”

A martial art specially for me? I can barely fathom it, but of course White Hands would think of such a thing.

All Shadows are well versed in the martial arts. They even have their own specific style of fighting, a graceful, almost airy series of movements. Karmoko Huon demonstrated it once, but it’s useless for alaki, since it requires a delicacy we no longer have. Too much brute force behind our movements.

I watch White Hands as she continues speaking, that excitement growing in her eyes. “I had considered it when I first started teaching you, but now I know it’s necessary. We start tomorrow – no time to waste. The campaign will be here soon, and I want you to be ready in the event you are needed.”

In the event I am needed? I muffle a laugh at her wording. More like the eventuality. I know White Hands intends to use me during the campaign, a pet weapon she will present with great fanfare to the emperor. That’s why she keeps pushing me harder, keeps reminding me how much more difficult the campaign will be than anything I’ve experienced thus far.

If she can make me the perfect weapon, she can gain greater status in the emperor’s eyes. I’m starting to understand how she thinks.

Still, I’m relieved when Britta’s familiar figure appears on the horizon. Just because I’m prepared for the eventuality of battle doesn’t mean I want to think about it. “There’s something else I wanted to tell you, Karmoko,” I say.

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