The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms - By N. K. Jemisin Page 0,66

tunics under the armor. This one was led by a familiar face: Imyan, a woman from my own Somem tribe. She shouted in our language as she reached the forecourt, and the company split to surround us. Very quickly we were surrounded by a ring of spears and arrows pointed at our hearts.

Notheir weapons were pointed at my heart, I noticed. Not a single one of them had aimed at Nahadoth.

I stepped in front of Nahadoth to make it easier for them, and to signal my friendliness. For a moment it felt strange to speak in my own tongue. Its good to see you, Captain Imyan.

I dont know you, she said curtly. I almost smiled. As girls we had gotten into all manner of mischief together; now she was as committed to her duty as I.

You laughed the first time you saw me, I said. Id been trying to grow my hair longer, thinking to look like my mother. You said it looked like curly tree moss.

Imyans eyes narrowed. Her own hairlong and beautifully Darre-straighthad been arranged in an efficient braids-and-knot behind her head. What are you doing here, if youre Yeine-ennu?

You know Im no longer ennu, I said. The Itempans have been announcing it all week, by word of mouth and by magic. Even High North shouldve heard by now.

Imyans arrow wavered for a moment longer, then slowly came down. Following her lead, the other guards lowered their weapons as well. Imyans eyes shifted to Nahadoth, then back to me, and for the first time there was a hint of nervousness in her manner. And this?

You know me, Nahadoth said in our language.

No one flinched at the sound of his voice. Darren guards are too well-trained for that. But I saw not a few exchanged looks of unease among the group. Nahadoths face, I noticed belatedly, had begun to waver again, a watery blur that shifted with the torchlight shadows. So many new mortals to seduce.

Imyan recovered first. Lord Nahadoth, she said at last. Welcome back.

Back? I stared at her, then at Nahadoth. But then a more familiar voice greeted me, and I let out a breath of tension I hadnt realized that I felt.

You are indeed welcome, said my grandmother. She came down the short flight of steps that led to Sar-enna-nems living quarters, and the guards parted before her: a shorter-than-average elderly woman still clad in a sleeping tunic (though shed taken the time to strap on her knife, I noted). Tiny as she wasI had unfortunately inherited her sizeshe exuded an air of strength and authority that was almost palpable.

She inclined her head to me as she came. Yeine. Ive missed you, but not so much that I wanted to see you back so soon. She glanced at Nahadoth, then back at me. Come.

And that was that. She turned to head into the columned entrance, and I moved to followor would have, had Nahadoth not spoken.

Dawn is closer, here, to this part of the world, he said. You have an hour.

I turned, surprised on several levels. You arent coming?

No. And he walked away, off to the side of the forecourt. The guards moved out of his way with an alacrity that might have been amusing under other circumstances.

I watched him for a moment, then moved to follow my grandmother.

* * *

Another tale from my childhood occurs to me here.

It is said the Nightlord cannot cry. No one knows the reason for this, but of the many gifts that the forces of the Maelstrom bestowed upon their darkest child, the ability to cry was not one of them.

Bright Itempas can. Legends say his tears are the rain that sometimes falls while the sun still shines. (I have never believed this legend, because it would mean Itempas cries rather frequently.)

Enefa of the Earth could cry. Her tears took the form of the yellow, burning rain that falls around the world after a volcano has erupted. It still falls, this rain, killing crops and poisoning water. But now it means nothing.

Nightlord Nahadoth was firstborn of the Three. Before the others appeared, he spent countless aeons as the only living thing in all of existence. Perhaps that explains his inability. Perhaps, amid so much loneliness, tears become ultimately useless.

* * *

Sar-enna-nem was once a temple. Its main entrance is a vast and vaulted hall supported by columns hewn whole from the earth, erected by my people in a time long before we knew of such Amn innovations as scrivening or