Page 75 of The Eyes of Tamburah
The four of them left together, but after a few turns Ximen led her in another direction. Shyla breathed easier. Payatt was too intense and Bazia obviously didn’t like her, while Ximen appeared to be reasonable. They climbed a few levels. Then they entered a corridor with eyeless faces contorted in pain carved into the walls. Oh, this was familiar all right. The hallway of the dead ended in a circular room ringed with stone benches facing an altar. They were in Tamburah’s temple.
Son of a sand rat. Had she been on one of the lower levels of the temple the entire time?
“You can stay here while you consider our offer,” Ximen said.
There were six doorways, one of them leading to the surface. And because of her attention to detail, she knew exactly which one.
As if reading her thoughts, he said, “Remember the ambush in the desert.”
“I thought you were going to trust me.”
“Within reason. If you run away, then your answer is obviously no. We have many lives depending on us. Too many to risk exposure by a selfish sun-kissed.”
Selfish? Everything she’d done since Banqui knocked on her door had been to save him. How was that selfish? And now she was supposed to just trust that these crazy people had a plan to rescue him. They told her nothing of substance. Did they even have the resources to execute such an endeavor?
Selfish? That grated more than being called sun-kissed.
Ximen must have sensed her darkening mood. “I’ll return for your answer.”
A deep bass pulse rolled through her, blinding her. By the time she blocked it, Ximen had disappeared. She cursed. The words echoed in the empty chamber. At least he left the druk. It had enough light to illuminate Tamburah’s giant face etched into the wall behind the altar.
“This is all your fault,” she said to him.
His smug expression irritated her. She glared back. The blue and purple sand painting his skin probably represented his control of the water sources. Back then, it flowed closer to the surface. Or maybe it meant… Shyla picked up the druk and moved to inspect the pattern. A familiarity resonated within her. Could the lines be a map? Excitement built in her chest. Of Tamburah’s temple? No. Zirdai? No. Perhaps somewhere else. It wasn’t random.
However, she’d never get a chance to figure it out. Her enthusiasm fizzled. If she agreed to join the Invisible Sword her life would no longer be her own. Was her disappointment selfish? Should she not be sad? Shyla had witnessed the horrors of Zirdai that she never knew existed—or had refused to acknowledge. Had she turned a blind eye, selfishly focusing on her own problems? Was it selfish to want to be independent? The vagrants were independent, yet they were hunted by the guards and deacons. And yet, they aided Shyla in her search for the black water. For a price. And then Jayden…
Shyla rubbed her chest, where the knife wound had healed. But that poor girl who’d been poisoned would never see the sun again. At the time, Shyla couldn’t do anything to help, but did this Invisible Sword truly assist the vagrants or did they have their own agenda?
Perhaps it would be better to hide with the vagrants. Would they even allow her to live with them? If she found treasures they could sell, would they protect her? Or would she endanger them all? Hadn’t she already endangered them? The image of the vagrants who’d been hung upside down and tortured to death flashed in her mind.
Her head ached. If she refused the Invisible Sword’s offer, they’d erase her memories, she’d be caught by the Water Prince and killed. Shyla never had a real choice. But it was nice of them to pretend that she did.
She stared at Tamburah. His eyeless gaze peered back. The red sand lining the empty sockets sparkled with a crimson hue, representing blood. A dramatic touch probably added by the rebels.
The scrape of boots on the stone broke the silence. Shyla set the druk down and moved into a fighting stance, wishing she’d thought to bring the chain along.
Ximen, Bazia, and—Jayden!—burst into the chamber. Scorching hells, she should have known he was involved. Their gazes met—his worried and hers livid—but there were no signs of the cocky Vagrant Prince who tried to kill her. Did they bring him along hoping his presence would convince her to join them? If so, it was the wrong decision.
“There’s been an incident,” Ximen said. “We need to accelerate the timeline of Banqui’s rescue.”
“What happened?” she asked.
“The Water Prince’s patience has worn out. His guards have captured the entire population of the commune on level sixteen.”
“Even the children?” she asked, remembering the rambunctious kids.
“Yes. All twenty-two of them. We need your answer before they’re tortured to death.”
She’d already decided, but the news gave her another reason. “I pledge my loyalty to the Invisible Sword. What do we need to do?”
“The pledge is a bit more formal than that,” Ximen said. “It needs to be a magical vow or else we can’t trust you.”
“Fine. Whatever.”
“It won’t work if she doesn’t believe,” Bazia said.
“It will as long as she’s truthful,” Jayden said. “Shyla, roll up your left sleeve like this.” He demonstrated by pulling his all the way up to his shoulder, revealing a muscular bicep.
