Travelers

by Alia Hess

  “What?” It had been so close to her lips. “Oh, God! Who would send that to us?”

  Trav’s hands shook as he put them on her waist and pressed his face against her stomach. He breathed deeply, hands shaking, then picked up the broken teacup shards. “I’ve got a pretty good idea who would send something like that. But I don’t understand how he would know. Who did you tell about your pregnancy?”

  “No one! Just you. But I went to the doctor yesterday while you were out fishing. …Oh no. I ate those cookies. Do you think they’re poison?”

  Trav dumped the broken cup into the trash and pulled a cookie from the bag. “I don’t think so. It’s the tea they wanted you to drink. They wanted to kill our baby. My baby.” He put his arms around Owl, squeezed her tight, then rubbed her stomach. “I’m going to get to the bottom this.”

  “You really think Darksky did this? I mean, I know he talked about how disgusting our mixed race children would be, but would he really try to kill them?”

  “I’m going to go find out right now.” He ran to the bedroom and returned wearing a shirt. “I don’t want you here alone. I think you should go to Quietbird’s and tell him what happened. Take those cookies with you too. Maybe he knows who made them. I’m sure my father is behind this, but I’m pretty certain he doesn’t know how to bake. I’ll meet you over there soon.”

  Trav slammed the door behind him. Owl stood in place, staring at the brown droplets staining the rugs.

  These people never liked us. They really were pretending all along…

  The bag of cookies wobbled and wavered in her vision as her eyes filled with tears. They spilled down her cheeks as she took the bag, sobbing loudly. She wiped her face and ran out the front door, back up the path following the river.

  If Trav hadn’t been there…

  How stupid am I? A mysterious package shows up on our step and I just partake without even thinking about it? I should have known. Our child will be a “half-breed.” Of course people have a problem with it.

  She paused in front of the door to Quietbird’s house.

  Should we be having this baby? I don’t want our child to grow up being avoided and vilified like Trav. Am I selfish? I thought things had changed. Maybe I should have drank the tea…

  She banged on the door, her vision still distorted by tears. After a moment, it swung open, Seasalt standing in the doorway.

  “Owl? What’s wrong?”

  “Is Quietbird here?”

  “He’s in a meeting with an envoy from Pearlolla. What happened? Where’s Roadtraveler? Is he okay?”

  “Yeah, he’s fine. …Seasalt, I’m pregnant.”

  “You are? Congratulations!” Her round face lit into a smile, and she gave Owl a hug. “Then why do you look so upset?”

  “Someone left a basket with ringhorn tea on my doorstep. And these cookies.” Owl held up the bag.

  Seasalt’s hands went to her mouth. “Did you drink it?”

  “Almost. Trav knocked the tea out of my hands before it was too late.” She frowned, her lip quivering. “Someone tried to kill my baby.”

  “Oh my God.” She wrapped Owl in a hug again and drew her into the house. “I’ll go get Quietbird. Listen, sit down over here. Try to stay calm. Stress can hurt your baby. I’ll make you some tea in a moment—some normal tea.”

  Seasalt hurried down the hall, her bangles clacking together as she ran. A few minutes went by. Owl sat at the large central table, tears running down her face.

  I never should have come here. These people don’t really like me. I should have gone east to Hammerlink when I had the chance… She shook her head. But I would never do that. Being away from Trav makes my heart ache.

  Quietbird walked into the room with Seasalt. He gave Owl a jolly smile, but it disintegrated as quickly as it came. “Where’s Trav?”

  “He went to confront his father.” Owl wiped her face as Seasalt entered the kitchen and pulled a metal tin from a shelf.

  “Where are those cookies?”

  Owl pushed the bag across the table. Quietbird reached into the sack and pulled one out, then took a bite out of it.

  Owl sniffled. “Are you sure you should be doing that?”

  “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with them. They just put them with the tea to draw suspicion away from it. Make it look more like a real gift basket. I think I know who made these, though.”

  “Really?”

  Quietbird popped the rest of the cookie in his mouth and brushed off his hands. He pointed to his flabby stomach. “You see this gut? People bring me food all the time—try to suck up to me. And I like food, obviously. This cookie has pitchfruit in it. You know pitchfruit? There are some trees that grow wild with it here, but there’s an old woman that lives in Serpent—her name is Lightning—and she has a pitchfruit tree in her yard. She dries the fruit and chops it up and bakes it in these cookies. I know because she told me all about it once when she came to see me. These are her cookies.”

  “But why would some old woman from Serpent want to kill our baby?”

  “I don’t know if she’s in on it, or just made these because someone asked her to. But I’m going to find out. In the meantime, we need to make sure you’re safe.” He stared at Owl for a moment, his face scrunched up. “I’ve got a plan. I want you to pretend you drank that tea, okay? So if anyone asks about your pregnancy or the tea, you tell them you drank it and lost the baby. You’re not showing yet, so no one will disbelieve you. That way, whoever did this will think, ‘mission accomplished,’ and won’t try to do something else. Your baby will be safe, and it will give us time to figure out who the hell did this.”

  “But what about Trav?” Owl asked as Seasalt set a cup of green tea in front of her. “He’s talking to Darksky right now. He’ll know I didn’t drink the tea.”

  “Oh, damn. Yeah. I hope my fat ass can run down there in time.” Quietbird hurried to the door and ran outside.

  Seasalt patted Owl’s hand. “We’ll get to the bottom of this. Don’t worry.”

  Owl put a hand to her head, trying to stay composed. She sipped her tea in silence.

  Seasalt drummed her fingers on the table. “We’re going to have babies around the same time. That will be fun.”

  “Yeah. Imagine all the trouble they’re going to get into together.”

  “Do you want a boy or a girl?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, for your first, it doesn’t really matter. Hopefully there’s just one in there and not twins like I had, though.”

  Owl smiled weakly. “…Do you think it was wrong of us to want to have a baby? Since the child is going to be mixed race? I don’t want him or her to be stigmatized like Trav.”

  Seasalt patted her hand again. “Of course it’s not wrong. You deserve to have children just like everyone else. And the people around here have really grown to like you two, and I think your baby will grow up just fine here. Don’t let one person’s bigotry put doubts in your head. You’ll be fine. Quietbird will figure it out. He and his brothers always know how to take care of situations like this.”

  “What do you mean? Like investigating crimes? Or taking care of people like Elder Redcloud?” Owl frowned.

  “Uh… Sometimes it’s best not to—”

  Seasalt’s two young daughters entered the room. They tried reaching into the bag of cookies, but Seasalt swatted their hands away and put the bag on a shelf. She gave them some candy instead, and they ran out of the house. She sat back down but didn’t try to pick up their conversation.

  Owl sipped her tea. Seasalt smiled at her, but it was her plastic smile normally reserved for catty women at the market. This time it masked fear instead of antagonism.

  A wail, far away but distinct, turned Owl’s veins to ice water. It was Trav. She let out a sob and stood up.

  Was it Darksky? Did he admit it?

  Seasalt pulled Owl back into her seat and hugged her, but her reassurances failed to soothe, rolling away like
low tide.

  Before long, Quietbird was back with Trav. His eyes were bloodshot and tears stained his cheeks. Scrapes criss-crossed his forearms and palms.

  Owl hurried to him. “Trav, are you okay? What happened?”

  “This?” Trav held out his hands. “I accused my father and we got into an argument. He knocked me over. Cut myself. Then Quietbird showed up and told me you admitted to drinking a cup of the tea after all. I believed him.”

  Trav turned and punched Quietbird in the shoulder.

  “Ow! I had to. Otherwise our plan wouldn’t work.”

  “I know that. Now.” Trav wiped his face.

  “Pretty sure all of Nis thinks you drank the tea now, with the way Trav was howling in the street. I’m sorry, Trav. I had to.” Quietbird rubbed his shoulder. “Darksky looked pretty upset about it too, which was surprising. He even helped Trav up off the ground.”

  “Really?” Owl said. “I thought he hated us. So you don’t think it was him that sent the tea?”

  “No,” Trav replied. “Not after talking to him. I don’t think he knew anything about it. But at least now you’ll be safe until we figure out who really did it.”

  “What can I do to help? I don’t want to just wait around, sitting on my hands.”

  Quietbird studied her. “Actually, I think that’s exactly what you need to be doing. If you stay in ‘mourning’ for the next couple days, it will make all of this seem more convincing.”

  Owl frowned.

  There was a knock, and Quietbird opened the door. Darksky stood in the doorway with a scowl on his face, looking in.

  “Who the hell killed my grandchild?”

  Moonlight struggled through the thin bedroom curtains, glazing the textured clay walls in soft light. Owl and Trav lay in bed in a comfortable, familiar tangle of limbs and sheets. The soft, warm darkness and the scent of Trav’s skin tugged her eyelids closed. Trav’s breathing was slow and shallow, but he wasn’t asleep either. His hand rested on her stomach.

  “Were we wrong?” Owl whispered. “To want to have a baby?”

  “No.” Trav shifted and pushed his face to her neck. “We deserve happiness just like anyone else.”

  “But what about our baby? He or she deserves happiness too. I just don’t know if that’s going to happen here.”

  “With Darksky helping out, I’m sure this will get resolved. He’s such a disagreeable bastard that he’ll get the information out of people one way or another.”

  Trav’s response didn’t really address her concern. She sighed. “We haven’t talked to him since your naming ceremony and now he’s playing detective for us. I can’t believe it. He’s still not exactly a ray of sunshine, but I’m glad for his help. And glad that you two are talking. …When you’re not punching and shoving each other.”

  Trav chuckled.

  “I was about to ask you what names you like for the baby. …Thinking like a Mainlander still.”

  He smiled and stroked her hair. She couldn’t slip into the fuzzy contentment of sleep. The idea of her child leaving for a naming quest on the Mainland—even though that wasn’t a given—started a string of thoughts that she couldn’t keep from unraveling: roads traveled and confused feelings, the sad beauty of overgrown places, the thrill of finding Old World treasures, and Trav wearing eyeblack. She suddenly became incredibly homesick and thought of that day on the Tassi tradeship—the Mainland slipping into the crack between the sea and sky.

  The thoughts filled her mind and spilled onto her cheeks.

  “Are you okay?” Trav asked sleepily.

  She nodded. She didn’t want to tell him she missed the Mainland. She didn’t really want to go back, but this still didn’t quite feel like her home. She didn’t even get to name her baby.

  Trav pulled her tighter into his arms and tugged up the covers. “Everything will be okay. You two will be fine.”

  July 08, 154—We still don’t know any more yet about who sent the tea. I’ve stayed in the house for the past couple of days in “mourning” like Quietbird told me to do. Trav said a lot of people around town are talking about it and sending their condolences.

  Owl walked behind the house to their large cobb oven. Trav sat in the grass sanding a spindle of wood. Other wooden parts lay around his feet. She wanted to tell him not to build the cradle outside, lest people get suspicious, but it didn’t really look like much yet, so she kept her mouth shut.

  She inserted a large wooden peel into the hot oven, pulling out a big loaf of golden bread—it had always been her favorite food, but now that she was pregnant it was nearly an addiction. She inhaled the sweet, homey scent and set in on a table nearby. “I want to go to Pearlolla and go shopping. I heard there’s a new shop of Old World stuff there and I’d like to go check it out.”

  Trav stopped sanding and looked up. He cocked an eyebrow. “You want to spend money on junk we used to pick up on the side of the road for free?”

  Owl laughed. “That’s right. You got a problem with that?”

  He shrugged. “Just as long as our house doesn’t start to look like Gale’s.”

  “I promise it won’t.”

  Footsteps crunched up the gravel path, and Darksky appeared, accompanied by three of Trav’s cousins—Brokenbranch, Greyrock, and Shiningfin. Trav set down his piece of wood and stood. Darksky gestured with his head and disappeared around the front of the house. Owl picked up her bread and followed Trav, her heart thudding. Trav opened the door and let everyone in.

  He pulled their table out from the wall so that everyone could sit down. Owl said, “I just made some bread. Do you guys wants some?”

  “Yes, thank you,” Shiningfin replied.

  She cut into the hot loaf of bread, then placed the slices onto a plate along with a dish of herbal oil, then joined them at the table. Darksky sat brooding and staring out the window as Trav’s cousins reached for the slices of bread. He unfolded his arms and looked at her. “We found out who sent you the tea.”

  Trav slipped his hand in Owl’s under the table.

  Brokenbranch said, “Well, Darksky found out. We just helped.”

  Darksky unfolded his arms. “There’s an old woman in Serpent that invites her friends over for tea once a week.”

  “Lightning, right? Quietbird said she’s the one that made the cookies,” Owl said.

  Darksky nodded. “One of her friends that she invites over is Crowsclaw—the doctor you went to who told you that you were pregnant. Well, apparently the same day, the doctor went over to Lightning’s for tea, and she told her and two other women there you were pregnant.”

  He inhaled deeply and scowled. It was unclear if he was angrier than normal because he always looked that way. “These old biddies don’t like you. They don’t like you, or Roadtraveler, or the idea of you two having a half-breed baby. I, um, I know I said some hurtful things to you two at the naming ceremony, but I’ve come to accept… well, this.” He gestured to Trav and Owl.

  She raised her eyebrows and Trav squeezed her hand harder, a small smile on his face.

  “The idea of someone harming your child has really filled me with rage. Anyway, these women are gossiping and drinking tea and start hatching this plan to get rid of your baby. Crowsclaw is the doctor, so she already has access to ringhorn tea. They get Lightning to make the cookies, even though she really doesn’t want any part of this. They tell her to put poison in them. That way, if you don’t drink the tea, you’ll still get sick and maybe die. But Lightning won’t do it. She bakes the cookies but throws the poison away. One of the other women sets the basket on your step when you’re out at the market.”

  Owl stared into the bread. The relief of knowing didn’t feel as good as she expected. “How did you find this out? Who told you?”

  “Lightning did. She didn’t want any part of this anyway, so it wasn’t hard to convince her to talk.”

  “Please don’t tell me you guys murdered four old ladies at a tea party.” Trav frowned.

  “Lig
htning is carrying on in her little house in Serpent,” Grayrock said. “But she’s going to need to find some new guests for her parties.”

  Owl put a hand to her mouth. Trav looked at his cousins, mouth pulled tight, then at Darksky. “Did you participate?”

  Darksky shook his head.

  Trav looked at Grayrock. “You guys made Redcloud have his ‘accident’ too, huh?”

  Grayrock folded his arms and shrugged. Brokenbranch and Shiningfin glanced at each other but said nothing.

  “I don’t like Quietbird going behind the town’s back like this.”

  “Quietbird doesn’t have anything to do with it.” Brokenbranch took a bite of bread.

  “I don’t believe that for one second.”

  “He knows who sent the tea and that the problem is resolved. That’s it. He doesn’t need to know anything else. He can’t know anything else. He’s Elder,” Grayrock replied.

  “I don’t understand. Why go about it this way? What happened to town voting and banishment?” Trav made a noise in his throat and shook his head.

  “Oh, so those old ladies can poison someone else on a different island? C’mon, cousin. This takes care of the problem,” Brokenbranch said.

  Trav swallowed and looked at Owl. “I don’t know that this is right, but I guess I’m glad Owl—and the baby—are safe now.”

  Owl had mixed feelings of her own. It was wonderful that someone was looking out for them, but Trav’s family going about it this way disturbed her. Quietbird was behind this, surely. It was hard to picture such a fun-loving, caring guy sending his brothers out to execute people, but sometimes she wondered if his jolly nature was a well-honed act, a better plastic smile than everyone else’s. What if the town found out what he was like? What if they already knew? What if they were only nice to her because Quietbird threatened them?

  She shook her head. “What am I supposed to say if people around town ask me what happened, or who it was? Because you know they will.”

  “You can tell them who it was if you want,” Brokenbranch replied. “Just tell them that Quietbird is handling the situation. They’ll be satisfied with that. That’s what we always say.”