Free Idol of Glass by Jane Kindred

was impossible to best in debate.
    â€œ Tasunth durrh zelfaal ,” Merit protested.
    â€œ Dai ,”said Jak. “And it is zelfaal .”
    â€œ Durrh ,” Merit repeated, and made a motion of one hand passing through the curled fingers of the other.
    â€œNo. I said ‘until’.” Jak held up one hand and brought it toward the other, but stopped at the fingers instead of passing through.
    â€œ Ischnaishaêl. ” Merit’s expression was grim, but Jak shrugged, unfamiliar with the word. “ Naishaêl. ”He looked about for something to demonstrate. A peach remained in a bowl at the table beside the chaise he was seated on, and he took it out and placed it on the table’s surface, near the center. Merit patted the fruit. “ Shaêl. ” He set it rolling, and as it neared the edge, he cupped his hands and cried, “ Nai shaêl! ” as though in warning to the unsuspecting fruit, and grinned at Jak. The peach smacked against the floor and burst on the tile. He pointed to it. “ Naishaêl. ” Merit shrugged and held up his hands as if to say, I warned it.
    Jak looked down at the mess with a reluctant smile. “Dangerous. Unsafe. I see. Merit, my friends need me. Mene midten aovetma .”
    Merit’s frown was back. “ Ma taaovet .” This was an approximation of “need”, different from aovetta, which implied desire. Merit’s lingering cough seized him as if to corroborate his words, his face reddening. “ Ischma nai tene midt ?” he said with strain at the end of the cough.
    Jak sat beside him and took his hand, concerned. “Of course you’re my friend. Dai. Mene midt. ” Jak sighed. “ Ai, Merit. I know who you are to me. It’s myself I can no longer place.” Jak made no attempt to translate this, and Merit offered the sort of smile one gives when language fails. “ Durrh winter.” Jak pondered. “Perhaps I should. Ischbessauschma .” Merit’s sharp wit had quickly cured Jak of the Molish tendency to separate each word in such a phrase.
    Before Merit had a chance to gloat over his victory, a servant entered with a bow and an announcement Jak couldn’t follow in the boy’s swift tongue. Merit rose to attend to whatever had come up.
    â€œWhat is it?” Jak rose with him. “ Kasísch ?”
    â€œTravelers.” Merit had picked up a bit of Mole in turn. “Two women kuth uhnten vetmas , ischbess . Still they come to seek blessing, so long after the Expurgaht .” He turned to follow the servant, and Jak’s gut clenched with fear.
    â€œWait!” Jak grabbed his arm. “Two women. Maybe two Meeric women. Meeren ahnna , ischbess .”
    Merit paused, frowning in thought. Jak watched the emotion warring on his face: anxiety, fear… hope . Merit turned again to the passage, eager, and Jak caught him by the shoulder.
    â€œ Nai, Merit. Nai taaovetem. Don’t bring her here!”
    Merit put his hand over Jak’s and gently removed the tight grip from his arm. “ Pentheta ma bahretems ?” Jak watched his lips, anxious and unable to understand this. Merit went out after his servant.
    On the steps of the court, the two women stood, tall and cloaked in dark garments, hair and faces hidden by traditional Rhymanic veils. There was a thickness in the air around them, an electric formication. They could be no one else. “Do you think I could refuse them?” Merit had said to Jak. Because of course it was impossible. He would serve Ra to his death—even if it was Ra who killed him.
    Before Merit had crossed the atrium toward them, one of the women moved, her hand gripping her companion’s.
    â€œMerit,” she said.
    The other glanced at her over the top of her veil. Those were Ra’s coal eyes.
    Merit had thought the sight of Ra would heal him, that he’d go to her, her unflinching servant, and be filled with