Carnival of Souls

CHAPTER 25

ZEVI WASN’T SURPRISED TO find Aya outside the mouth of the cave. He also wasn’t sure if he wanted to invite her inside. Kaleb didn’t entirely trust her, and this was his home. On the other hand, Aya had saved Kaleb’s life. That earned her a lot of leeway as far as Zevi was concerned.

“He’s not here,” Zevi told her.

Kaleb hadn’t coped too well with what happened in the fight, and he’d vanished not long after Zevi had led him away from the carnival. It wasn’t like there were wounds to tend, so Zevi couldn’t insist on Kaleb staying home.

When Aya didn’t reply, Zevi nodded at the ground. “Is this ward like circles? Can you cross it without me knowing?”

“Yes,” Aya admitted. “No magic I’ve found in The City has been strong enough to stop me at anything.”

Zevi motioned for her to come inside, but he didn’t say the words that would allow her to do so. “What about outside The City?”

She gave him a wry smile, acknowledging his lack of welcoming words, and stepped into the cave. “In the Untamed Lands? Nothing I’ve found out there is beyond me. I looked, but… no.”

“And the human world? Anything stronger there?” Zevi gave her his most innocent look.

Without missing a beat, Aya said, “Yes, but not by much. There are older witches, but I’m able to best most of them too.”

“Huh.” Zevi swept his arm forward in a gesture of welcome, offering her the softest of the piles of hides that he had. If any guest they’d had merited the best comforts, she was the one. Her magic might have disturbed Kaleb, but it had also kept him alive in a fight he should’ve lost. To Zevi, that was far more important than Kaleb’s self-loathing at what he’d done. The first time doing something horrible was always the hardest. Kaleb might not be willing to admit that today, but Zevi had no illusions. He’d seen Kaleb’s dismay after Zevi sold his body to buy them food; he’d seen the terror in Kaleb’s eyes when he’d come very close to dying. Those were sickening too. The revulsion faded, and they kept on living. Time made even the worst of horrors seem milder. Kaleb simply needed time — not that Zevi would say that to Kaleb right now.

Zevi studied Aya as he waited for her to explain why she was there. She was different from anyone he’d spent time around. When they acknowledged him, ruling-caste women typically either looked at him as an object of revulsion or of pleasure. Aya had neither reaction. It was comforting. Like being around Kaleb is. He smiled at that realization. Kaleb had been right about her: she would be a good protector if he needed one.

Patience already gone, Zevi flopped down across from her and asked, “Why are you here? I told you he’s out, and you’re still here. You don’t want me, so why?”

“You’re refreshing,” she said with a small laugh.

He shrugged. “What do you want, Aya?”

“Come to the carnival with me,” she finally said. “I need to be distracted, and people need hints that Kaleb and I are not enemies. If Kaleb isn’t with me, you will be convincing proof that he and I are talking.”

“With or without a mask?”

She laughed. “Just you, Zevi. No mask.”

Zevi flashed his teeth at her in a wide grin. He’d be her stand-in trophy. Walking with her would be far more entertaining than sitting home worrying over Kaleb. If he were able to find a female daimon truly appealing, Aya would be a contender. Unlike the red-mask jobs he’d taken, he thought he might be able to lie with Aya without needing to imagine that he was touching a daimon he did want.

THE WITCH WAS QUIET as they walked toward the carnival, but Zevi had lived with Kaleb long enough to be used to sullen moods. They stopped at the edge of the carnival, and Zevi watched a scab pick the pockets of those pausing to listen to a wire-thin woman with beautiful long fingers playing a hurdy-gurdy. The scab didn’t rob everyone — doing so was a foolish strategy — but he judiciously assessed each listener. A few minutes passed, and the set of songs ended. Some listeners dropped coins into the musician’s tin before they walked away. The scab joined them, dropping a percentage of his take into the tin as well. The two exchanged a brief glance, enough to check if the time for moving on was now or if the musician thought they were still good for another round.

“They have a good system,” Aya commented.

“Fair, not good,” he corrected.

Since he’d left the Untamed Lands, Zevi hadn’t ever known life without cons, theft, or other less gentle ways to earn the coins necessary to eat. He could see ways to improve their system, but he suspected that the musician had other revenue streams or a protector.

“Walk with me,” Aya said softly.

Mutely, Zevi kept pace as they wound their way through the crush of people and deeper into the carnival. A lot of people believed that the carnival wasn’t the same sort of danger as the Night Market, but the only real difference as far as Zevi could see was that the vendors who were here only during the day hid their wantonness better. He tried to stay away at night because Kaleb asked him to, but he was more comfortable with the Night Market. Illusions confused him.

They stuck to the most visible parts of the carnival, pausing to listen to musicians and walking through to the matchboards where the fight results were displayed. Aya told stories of fights she’d won and plays she’d seen, and he told her about cons he’d run and books he’d read. She didn’t laugh at his text love like so many daimons would, but she did seem surprised.

“Kaleb brings me books from the human world,” Zevi admitted. “I’ve read some of ours, but books aren’t as easy to get in The City. Over there, they have buildings filled with books, and anyone at all can go in and read them. They let you take them home to read; even low-caste humans are allowed.”

The sadness in Aya’s expression was only there for a moment, but he saw it and added, “It’s not your fault.”

“What’s not?”

“Being born to the ruling caste,” Zevi said. “You didn’t keep books from me, and you don’t hurt me. Not all ruling-caste daimons are cruel.”

“I know.” She stepped around a scab, not noticing that by doing so she was in reach of a young cur with quick fingers.

Zevi caught the cur’s wrist. “She’s Kaleb’s.”

The cur’s eyes widened.

“Spread the word.” Zevi watched the cur vanishing into the carnival before he told Aya, “And not all curs are dreaming of a life in a quiet home reading books from the human world. Many of us”—he looked at Aya—“would kill before thinking, and more than a few would torture out of fear of the stories we’d heard so long ago.”

Aya nodded. “I know, but this is my home. It’s worth the risk.”

Keeping his voice low, Zevi told her, “I am in your debt because of Kaleb, but there are only two of us. If things go poorly here, you’re going to need to go there, to the human world.”

The aversion to the human world confused him, but he watched her tense. Her kind lived there; people lived there without fighting to simply survive; entire buildings were filled with books. Kaleb had told him that it wasn’t all good, that they had disease and violence and all of the horrors that thrived in The City, but he and Kaleb wouldn’t be destined to stay at the bottom simply because they were parentless. Curs could change their futures without having to kill or bleed. Sometimes they did so by reading so many books that they were able to get jobs. Living in the human world wouldn’t guarantee a better life, but it would be a far sight better than being a cur in The City.

His neck prickled as he felt someone watching him, and Zevi scanned the crowd until he found the daimon who stared at him. Instead of a threat, it was Kaleb. He strode through the daimons milling around the carnival, not seeming to notice that they moved out of his path without any effort from him. Zevi knew better: Kaleb noticed everything. This was what he’d fought for: respect and perhaps a bit of fear. He’d grown up fighting for the right to eat, the right to a not-exposed place to sleep, and more often than not, the right to not be abused for others’ amusement. It colored the way he saw the world.

It also made him fiercely protective of those he loved. Kaleb had saved Zevi more times than either of them discussed, and Zevi knew that no one else in The City could be trusted to protect Kaleb like he did. Aya had helped in this last fight, but that was one fight, not years of devotion. He loved Kaleb, not in the way that he’d read in the books from the human world, but in the way that humans loved their jobs or their countries. Caring for Kaleb was his vocation; it was what gave life meaning. Like soldiers or priests… Kaleb was the cause that Zevi had devoted himself to, like one of those gods humans built temples for. Unfortunately, the humans had the benefit of loving gods who weren’t walking around getting themselves into dangers, whereas Zevi had to worry constantly about Kaleb — who currently looked worse than Zevi had seen in a long time, not beaten up physically but emotionally battered.

Aya obviously agreed because she angled her body much as Zevi was doing, so that they could see any approaching threat.

“What happened?” she asked.

“I was just married to Marchosias’ daughter.” Kaleb smiled weakly.

“Married? To… how? Why?” Zevi stared at him, trying to process the words he was saying, trying to understand how such a thing could’ve happened.

“Kaleb?” Aya spoke softly, but the threat of violence was obvious in her voice and posture. She stood with her feet slightly apart, and although her hand didn’t quite touch the hilt of the knife hanging at her waist, her fingers were now talon-tipped. “Will there be retribution from Marchosias?”

Kaleb glanced at her. “No.”

“What do you owe for the bride-price? I have money,” she offered. “I know you’re angry with me, but I can help.”

“No,” Kaleb murmured. His gaze stayed on her for an appraising moment, and whether he said it or not, Zevi knew that Aya had moved up in his estimation. Then he looked away from her and caught Zevi’s gaze as he announced, “I staked my life… unless she breeds by her eighteenth birthday.”

They’d been through a lot of things the past few years, and Zevi was under no illusion that Kaleb would ever see him as anything other than a cur to protect. It galled him, though, that Kaleb didn’t ever think to discuss anything substantial with him. It was an insult that Zevi usually tried to ignore, but this time, it was too much.

His life?

The urge to be something other than the lowest order was the driving force in Kaleb’s world. Zevi knew that. He’d come to terms with it, stitched Kaleb up, set his broken bones, nursed him through fevers, and avoided questions that would made Kaleb flinch. For years, he’d pretended he didn’t know that Kaleb murdered and whored to provide for them, and he’d done all he could to hide his own forays into business when they needed more money. While Kaleb fixated on changing their status, Zevi focused on taking care of Kaleb.

How do I do that when he keeps doing things likely to get him killed?

“You are an idiot” was all he said.

Then he walked away, ignoring both Kaleb and Aya’s calls, moving so quickly that neither of them would catch him.