Chapter Fifty-Seven
Kahlil slept badly and only for a few hours. In his dreams, the walls of Vundomu collapsed around him. A desperate voice called to him. As he searched through the crumbling ruins, arcs of flames exploded through the halls. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed something white stalking him. With insectile speed, it skittered between the jumping shadows. As he watched he noticed more and more of the sudden flashes of motion. Bones, he realized, hundreds of hungry bones were crawling up through the wreckage.
He startled awake. Despite the cold night air, his body was damp with sweat. He heard people rushing through the hall outside his room. The sun hadn’t even risen. He kicked the sheep skins and quilted blankets off his body and sat up in his massive bed, feeling disoriented and unsure of where he was or why he was here.
Then he remembered.
Vundomu.
After his dream of stalking bones, the sound of people running outside his rooms disturbed him. He got out of bed and wandered out into the empty greeting room.
He glanced out his window to Jath’ibaye’s chambers. The rooms blazed with the bright green light of mashaye lamps. The silhouettes of a half-dozen people jumped and shifted as the light flickered across the white curtains.
Kahlil went to the bathroom. When he returned, the noise in the hall had stopped but Jath’ibaye’s chambers looked packed. Kahlil guessed that there were at least twenty people gathered there.
He wondered what was going on. Had something gone wrong? It certainly looked that way. Did it have to do with the gaun’im in the south or with the hungry bones in the north? Or something else that he didn’t even know about yet? There were too many possibilities for Kahlil to guess what had happened. But he wanted to know.
He pulled on his dark wool pants and then found the cleaner of his two shirts. His socks were getting a little ripe even by his low standards. Absently, he wondered where he was supposed to go to get his clothes laundered.
The thought slipped from his mind as he continued watching the people gathered in Jath’ibaye’s chambers. He easily recognized the unique shadow cast by Ji’s canine body. She was up on something—a chair or a table—shaking her head as she spoke. Her back arched slightly, hackles up.
Kahlil reached to unlatch his window, with the idea that he might be able to overhear them. Just as he slipped the latch open there came a loud knock at his door.
When he opened it, he found the young woman he’s spoken with aboard Jath’ibaye’s ship standing on the other side. She was no longer dressed in sailing gear, but now wore the heavy russet coat and black pants that seemed standard issue for Vundomu.
“Besh’anya?” Kahlil was almost certain that was the dark-haired girl’s name.
“I didn’t know if you’d remember.” She smiled charmingly.
“How could I forget?” Kahlil supposed he looked a wreck, but then it was the middle of the night. Her expectations probably hadn’t run too high.
“I’m going to guess from the late hour that this isn’t a social call?” Kahlil hoped it wasn’t a social call at least. Especially not a private one.
“I’m sorry. It’s not,” Besh’anya replied. “The Five Districts Council has asked for you. They’re holding a meeting in Jath’ibaye’s apartments right now.”
“I noticed the commotion out the window,” Kahlil remarked.
Besh’anya nodded. “I think everyone in the fortress has been called up in front of them. Ji sent me to get you.”
“Let me get my boots.” Kahlil stepped back from the door, allowing it to swing open. Hesitantly, Besh’anya followed him into his rooms.
“I’d offer you a seat, but I don’t have any chairs yet.” Kahlil went to the bedroom and found his boots.
“So tell me,” he called from the bedroom as he laced his boots up, “what is this Five Districts
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