The Lady by K. V. Johansen

rest.
    â€œI’m going down to Ilbialla’s tomb,” Hadidu said. “Varro, find your friends. Jugurthos and I need to talk to them.”
    Varro slipped out the Sunset Gate into the eerily quiet dusk of the suburb, where bonfires burned at many intersections and people lurked, guarding against they hardly knew what, with the native Marakanders mostly barricaded in their houses. Not good. He asked wary questions and hunted the demon and the Blackdog down eventually, in Master Shenar’s caravanserai, licking their wounds, figuratively speaking.
    No sign of the devil Vartu.
    Holla-Sayan was watching a Northron camel-leech putting stitches into Mikki’s bare and impressively hairy chest. And the damned great Red Mask killing, bear-riding wizard turned out to be the absolute last person Varro would ever have thought to see slumped asleep against his friend’s shoulder. Ivah . She’d bespelled and abducted Pakdhala to hand her over to the devil of Lissavakail, she’d had her noekar -woman kill Bikkim, and only Vartu’s devilry had saved him, she’d—Holla-Sayan knocked him down without stirring from the bench where he sat, when Varro swung his fist to rearrange the Tamghati traitor’s pretty little face.
    â€œBastard,” he said mildly, picking himself up, keeping his distance, but Holla-Sayan didn’t seem inclined to move farther, and the girl slept on, steadied by Holla-Sayan’s arm about her.
    Holla-Sayan said nothing in retort, which Varro figured was a bad sign. And he had that dangerous look, a fire behind his eyes that wasn’t Varro’s perception breaking out into poetry. Sliding into the mad dog’s view of things, a view which was a bit simplistic, to put it mildly. Varro had his suspicions that the Blackdog’s world broke down into mine and enemy . Best not to put yourself into the latter category. He settled down on the floor, arms wrapped around his knees, non-threatening as he could be.
    â€œAll right,” he said. “Be that way.”
    Holla-Sayan rubbed his face, some sanity returning, maybe? “Leave her alone.”
    â€œWhy?” There, a simple, mild question. That wasn’t threatening, was it?
    â€œBecause she was carrying Nour.”
    â€œ Nour .” Hadidu’s brother-in-law. Caravaneer. Secret wizard, Varro now knew. Taken by the Lady when the coffeehouse burned, and therefore dead.
    Not dead?
    â€œKharduin’s bringing him back. We took him away up the cliffs, when the Lady came after him. He’s—he’ll live. I think. Maybe.”
    â€œHe’ll live,” Mikki rumbled. The camel-leech sat back on her heels, shrugged at him.
    â€œBest I can do. Sorry.”
    The demon’s white skin, untouched by sun, had a sheen of sweat, but he hadn’t flinched from the needle, only baring his teeth once or twice in a grimace of pain. He leaned back against the wall and sighed. “It’ll do. I heal quickly. What did you want, Varro?”
    It wasn’t he who wanted anything, but Talfan and Hadidu, who wanted—who dreamed. Peaceful folk who’d never faced so much as a bandit raid, who’d never seen a battle, not even the one fought at their very gates this past day. And they were going to overthrow a goddess who was really a mad devil? He didn’t want to be trying to bring up four girls alone, a widower on the road. Marakanders talked and talked. He wasn’t sure they were good at much else. They needed—someone to show them what to do next.
    â€œHolla-Sayan, really—did the Lady flee you? Really? Because you’ve started something and they’re all going to die, my wife and her friends who’ve been waiting for some never-come day when they’ll overthrow the Lady, unless you finish it.”
    â€œI didn’t—”
    â€œYou did. The Lady’s never left the city before. I don’t think she’s ever sent Red Masks beyond