The Theft of Sunlight by Intisar Khanani (story reading .TXT) 📕

me, grins, and tosses his sword to Matsin, hilt first. Matsin just manages to catch it, talking a half step back in surprise. It is all the distraction Bren requires. He jumps the railing, diving straight down into the narrow space between ship and dock. I swallow a cry. He’s already gone. Matsin, swearing, drops the sword and leans over the railing, then straightens to look over at me. He shakes his head and turns away, frustration in every line of his body.

Serves him right.

I turn back to the carriage and climb up to join the children. Inside, we sit silently together. I can’t seem to find any words, nor do they ask any questions. They’re still terrified, their instincts numbed. I look down and find myself staring at the creases of my fingers, dark with blood, and beyond that, the hem of my skirts, equally dark, my slippers wet with it.

I clench my hands together.

“One of your friends died,” the girl across from me says. “A soldier.”

I nod, but she’s wrong. I don’t know him at all, not his name, or if he leaves behind a wife, or children, or a grieving mother. I was only thinking of Kirrana, but now someone else has been lost, and there is no bringing him back.

I force myself to take another deep, gulping breath, and look around, and realize I’m only partly right. For there are five children around me, wide-eyed and terrified, but alive and free as well. Even if I have failed Kirrana, and lost the soldier’s life, and failed Seri, I have done this much.

It’s something.

Chapter

52

We wait in our carriage, watching through the windows as three more quads arrive from the palace. A new captain from among the river guard shows up with his own quad to help impound the ship. Whether or not he is in the slavers’ pockets, he apparently knows when to keep his sword in its sheath. The dock as a whole has been shut down, not a single boat allowed to load or unload cargo, or depart.

Bren would have had to swim past the docks altogether to leave the water safely. My fingers go to my chest, to where the pendant he gave me lies hidden beneath my tunic, strung on a thin gold chain so it won’t stand out. He could have drowned. The thought leaves me as empty as it found me, my mind still frozen in that moment when my knife cut into the sailor’s throat, as easily as cutting through goat meat.

No. I shove all such thoughts away and force my focus back to the carriage. I cannot do anything about Bren, or the dead. But I can help these children. I share my name with them, and then check each for injuries, having them stand and turn in a circle to look for anything that they might have missed in the fear and frenzy of their escape. Other than a number of bruises and scrapes, some of which are older than others, they seem unharmed.

Matsin has a street vendor deliver freshly made flatbreads stuffed with spiced potato. The children devour them down to the very last crumb, and then curl up on the benches and on the ground between them, and rest against each other. A little boy puts his head in my lap, and an older girl sits beside me, leaning against my shoulder. I put my arm around her, not sure if I am comforting her or she, me.

Garrin finally looks in on us. “We’re headed back to the palace, kelari.”

“We’ll need a Speaker for the children,” I say, having managed to think this far ahead. “As soon as possible. And . . . they should be asked about what’s happened to them before they’re given the Blessing.”

He nods. “I’ll have a rider go ahead to arrange it.”

Sure enough, when we roll into the palace courtyard, a Speaker hurries through a side door toward us, a guard by her side.

I help the children down from the carriage as the Speaker introduces herself. “I’ve everything ready just inside here,” she says. “Come, my little ones, and we’ll have you taken care of.”

“Kelari,” Garrin says as I make to go with them. “You’ll be needed above. Matsin will report, I’m sure, but the family will want to hear your story as well.”

“But the children . . .”

“They’ll be fine now,” he says firmly. “The Speaker will see to them. You can come check on them after if you wish.”

I nod and turn back to them. “I’ll see you shortly. You’ll be safe now. Nothing can hurt you here, not once you’ve had the Blessing.”

The eldest girl nods. “Thank you, kelari.”

“Ready?” Garrin says. “They’re waiting for us.”

I nod to the children, and then wave quickly before turning back to him. “Yes.”

It seems a long way to the royal wing. Garrin has to repeatedly slow himself to allow me to catch up, but at least that grants Matsin the extra minutes he needs to catch up with us himself.

At the entrance to Kestrin’s suite, Garrin pauses and looks back at me. “You had better change, kelari. It won’t do for an attendant to come in covered in blood.”

No, I don’t suppose it would. And I don’t want to wear these clothes any longer than I must.

“Be quick,” Garrin says, and turns his back on me, letting himself in.

“Kelari,” Matsin says hesitantly.

I look up, nod. “I’ll be right back.”

In my room, I grab a change of clothes and hurry to the washroom. I leave my bloodied slippers and soiled clothing in a corner, the hems stiffening and the spots darkening to black, and pour water to lather and scrub my hands and feet, the scent of lavender rising from the soap. I don’t have time to actually bathe, but I want the blood off me now. My ankle is slightly tender from the fall I took while trying to flee the boat. Beyond that, I am unharmed. It seems an impossible thing.

I dress quickly,