Lalani of the Distant Sea

by Erin Entrada Kelly

  She unwrapped the branches from her waist and legs. She wiggled her toes. She wiggled her fingers and discovered she was still holding Ellseth’s pouch. She considered tossing it, but when you’re Sanlagitan, you waste nothing. Perhaps Veyda could use the arrowhead. She tied it around her neck.

  Lalani wondered, briefly, if she was dead and had entered another realm. The sky overhead was clear and bright blue. But the sounds weren’t peaceful. Wailing, screaming. She stood, unsteady legs on unsteady earth. She was still on the mountain, but near the base now.

  The world had changed. There were huge mounds of mud where the loomers and the shek should be. A bolt of panic—My-Shek. What had happened to My-Shek? And the menyoro’s house? Gone. There were splintered trees and big rocks among the houses in the village. The crops were buried. The flooded plants were now trapped under layers of mud.

  Lalani made her way down to the village, slowly.

  The past few weeks unfurled in her memory.

  She thought: this is all my fault.

  She’d only wanted to help.

  She’d only wanted to save her mother. Cure Toppi.

  She’d only wanted the plants to grow.

  How stupid she’d been, to think that she could do those things.

  “My uncle is right,” she whispered, to herself.

  The village would have been better without her. She only made things worse. Look at what she’d done. Her wishes had destroyed everything.

  How could she possibly fix this?

  She stopped and sat down. Her bottom sank into the earth.

  She looked south, where the fishing boats were hurrying back to shore. Then north, to the Veiled Sea.

  An idea blossomed. A ridiculous one.

  What if she could find that yellow flower and give it to Veyda?

  What if she could bring life’s fortunes to the village?

  What if she ran away, like Ziva?

  What if she reached Isa?

  Yes, she was a twelve-year-old girl.

  Yes, men had died before her.

  But—what if, though?

  What if?

  In the Darkest of Night

  The Yuzi home was not destroyed. When the sun set, Veyda, Hetsbi, and their mother were safely wrapped in their blankets. Hetsbi and Lo Yuzi were asleep.

  Veyda was not.

  Her eyes were wide open. She heard low voices outside but couldn’t tell what was being said. Everyone knew now that the Pasa family and the menyoro were gone. Several villagers were injured but would recover. Veyda wished desperately that she could tend to them—really tend to them, by setting their bones or wrapping their wounds—but girls weren’t meant for such things.

  And she had other things on her mind, anyway.

  Everyone had been accounted for except Lalani. Drum and Kul had pounded on the door just after sunset, demanding that she come home.

  “She’s not here,” Lo Yuzi had said, turning to Veyda with furrowed brows.

  Veyda shook her head in agreement. No. Lalani was not there.

  Drum and Kul had refused to take her word for it, of course. They thudded in their heavy boots through the house and checked the rooms. When they finally left, Lo Yuzi and Hetsbi both asked Veyda where Lalani was, and Veyda had to admit that she didn’t know.

  “What if she went back to the mountain?” Hetsbi’s eyes were wide and terrified.

  “Quiet,” said Lo Yuzi.

  “What if she went back to the mountain and the beast got her?” he said.

  “Enough!” Lo Yuzi snapped. She rarely snapped at either of them, but it had been a long day, full of destruction and worries, and no one had patience for anything.

  She told them to get to bed. Minutes later she joined them, and she and Hetsbi drifted off, exhausted.

  But Veyda couldn’t sleep.

  Where was Lalani? Her sola, her best friend? Horrifying thoughts nudged into her head, no matter how hard she tried to push them away. Lalani, buried by the landslide. Lalani, her heart quiet and still. Her heart made of clouds.

  As the hours passed, Veyda convinced herself that Lalani was dead. Her chest and stomach clenched into a knot and she bit her lip to stop herself from sobbing. But the next moment, she was convinced that Lalani was okay—maybe she had gotten lost, and she was home right now, waiting until morning to visit.

  Back and forth Veyda’s thoughts went.

  The truth arrived when she least expected it, when it was the darkest and quietest part of the night.

  Lalani appeared in the doorway, like a ghost. At first Veyda thought it was a ghost and her breath caught in her throat. She thought: Lalani died on the mountain, and now her spirit has come to tell me! But she reminded herself that she didn’t believe in ghosts.

  This was a living, breathing Lalani. She’d never seen Lalani move so purposefully and lightly.

  Veyda shot into a sitting position.

  “Shh,” Lalani said. She tiptoed toward Veyda’s blanket and crouched in front of her, whispering. “I can’t explain now. But I have to go.”

  Veyda opened her mouth to speak.

  “There’s no time for questions,” Lalani continued. “I just wanted you to know I was okay, and to ask you for a favor.”

  “But—where are you going?” Veyda asked. “Are you doing it? Running away, like Ziva? Are you—”

  Hetsbi turned over and sighed in his sleep. Lalani lifted her finger to her lips.

  “May I ask you a favor, sola?” she whispered.

  “Of course,” Veyda answered.

  “My mother is sick, and she’ll only get worse. Ask Drum if you can move her here, to your house, so you and Lo Yuzi can take care of her.” Lalani stood up. “Ask Lo Yuzi to tell her stories for me.”

  “But—”

  Before Veyda could say another word, Lalani was gone.

  On the Veiled Sea

  Lalani picked the first boat she saw at the light of dawn. The one on top of the pile, with streaks of auburn on the hull. She grabbed a paddle and tossed it inside—plunk—then dragged the boat toward the shore. It was nonsense, what she was doing. A girl slipping away into the sea in a small scouting boat—who ever heard of such a thing?

  When she was close enough to feel the water against her toes, she stopped. The mist was thick. She’d never been to the northern shore alone. She felt so small. A little girl with a little boat. A big, wide ocean with an open mouth.

  Her body was sore and the mud, now cracking off, made her skin itch.

  She wanted to sleep forever.

  But she had to do this.

  “Look at all that happened because of you,” she said, to no one.

  This was the only way to make things right.

  And if she never returned—well, the village would have lost nothing. Nothing but a twelve-year-old girl who was as useless as a wallecta.

  Once she was on the water, Lalani couldn’t tell if the mist was coming up from the waves or down from the sky. It lay across the surface like a blanket, covering everything so completely that the sloshing and rocking of the boat were the only signs that she was floating. It hovered around her. She could barely see her hand in front of her face.

  Was she moving or staying in the same place?

  She couldn’t tell.

  She lifted the paddle and pushed the water with it.

  Was she making a terrible mistake?

  Had she already made one?

  She wanted to turn around but didn’t. She would concentrate on what was ahead of her, not behind her.

  The sound of the water was strange—peaceful, but scary. Every now and then fish made plinking sounds as they leaped in and out of the sea. She couldn’t see them, but when you grow up in a fishing village, you come to know their sounds.

  That’s it, she thought. Think about the fish. Not the mist.

  Did fish know the difference between night and day? What was it like to live underwater? Did they know their mothers? Was it better to be a big fish or a little fish?
When you’re a big fish, all the fishermen want to catch you. Their nets forever nip at your fins. Not a moment’s peace. But there are many good things about being big, too. You can eat all the little fish you want, for example. But if you’re a little fish, and you’re little enough, no one pays any attention. You can hide under a rock, or plink-plink out of the water and dive right back down.

  No one pays any attention, if you’re little enough.

  She fought the urge to turn around. There were so many stories about what was ahead. “The north, the north,” the villagers said again and again, lost in their daydreams, gathered for Sailing Days, waiting for all of life’s fortunes.

  One story rose to the surface of Lalani’s mind, something Kul had told her years ago.

  “I will tell you a secret,” he’d said. “None of those stories are true. I know what’s really to the north.”

  Lalani didn’t ask what. She’d learned not to ask Kul questions.

  “Villages,” he said. “Full of cannibals. Do you know what cannibals are? They’re people who eat people. They hunt them down with spears and eat whatever and whomever they can find. They don’t care what part it is. It’s all food to them.”

  He paused. “That’s what happens to the men who disappear after Sailing Day. They wash up on the shore of a cursed island, and three heartbeats later, there’s a spear in their backs and they’re strung up over an open fire. Sometimes the cannibals don’t even bother with the spear.”

  The image of men and boys turning on sticks and roasting like hearty vegetables stayed with Lalani for a long time. She tried not to think of her father, but she always did.

  Veyda said it was all lies.

  “Don’t believe him,” she said. “He only wants to frighten you. Never trust someone who wields power through fear.”

  Lalani pushed into the mist and looked over her shoulder, expecting to see Sanlagita. But the world was the same on all sides.

  Was she moving or staying still? The boat was hard to steer.

  Which way was Sanlagita?

  The mist had a strange effect. Like something was slipping away. Like someone had placed a piece of thread across her hand and now they were pulling it between her fingers.

  What was it?

  She looked at her feet. Maybe she’d lost something in the boat. But what? All she had was this object around her neck. Wait—what was this thing, anyway?

  Arrowhead.

  The word sprung out of nowhere.

  Arrowhead?

  Why would she have it around her neck?

  She then realized she had her hand clasped around a long piece of wood and the wood was inside the mist.

  What was this?

  Paddle.

  But her boat was so small. Why would she take things she didn’t need?

  Paddle.

  What an odd word. Both familiar and meaningless.

  She studied Paddle. What was it for?

  The thread slipped between her fingers. She wanted to pull it back. She needed to think clearly. A rational thought in the corner of her brain told her the thread was her mind.

  She was losing her mind.

  No, that can’t be.

  Her mind wasn’t made of thread. Besides, she was too young to lose her mind.

  Wait—how old was she, anyway?

  A number did not occur to her.

  She listened, hoping someone would whisper it to her.

  Twelve.

  Yes, she remembered now. She was twelve.

  “I will say my name aloud,” she said into the mist. “And I’ll repeat it again and again and again so I don’t lose my mind.”

  She straightened her back.

  Pay attention.

  She had to say her name. She had to keep her bearings. She had to remember her purpose.

  She was escaping something. Trying to make it right. Wasn’t she?

  A terrible wrong had happened.

  “My name is Lalani Sarita,” she said. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “My name is Lalani Sarita. My name is Lalani Sarita. My name is Lalani Sarita. My name is . . .”

  Letters and sounds dripped from her tongue.

  Water licked the boat. Otherwise, it was silent. She clutched the pouch around her neck and tried desperately to remember what her purpose was. She had the distinct feeling that she was escaping, but she also sensed that she wasn’t escaping at all—she was searching. Or maybe she was doing both?

  The mist was strange and alive and it toyed with her brain.

  Then: a noise. Faint, but there. She flinched and steered in the direction it was coming from, but she couldn’t see the opposite end of the boat, much less the source of an indistinct sound from far away.

  Wait. It was closer now.

  Splashing. Gentle, but determined.

  She squeezed the paddle, wondering if she could use it as a weapon.

  The little boat tilted suddenly, and she tried to scream, but it came out as a short, strangled shriek.

  The vessel righted itself.

  Was it gone? Was it a man who wanted to roast her over an open fire?

  Where had she gotten such an idea?

  She scrambled around the little boat on her knees, peering over the side. The sound had returned, but it was less determined now.

  The wood of the boat dug into her knees.

  The mist was so thick.

  She scooted back as far as she could, which wasn’t far at all.

  It was quiet again, but something was there. The tempo of the water had changed. There were sounds of subtle movement—gurgles and splashes. She imagined a beast on its haunches, and here she was, easy prey.

  Perhaps I should jump overboard, she thought.

  But what good would that do?

  She brought her knees to her chest and waited for something to spring from the water.

  I will be swallowed whole like a little fish, she thought. And I can’t even remember my name.

  Soft sounds are loud when the world is silent. The gentle splashing of water becomes a tidal wave. That’s what Lalani heard as she sat there with her heart pounding. A hungry, angry wave. She knew she was on water and she knew she was alone, but she could not remember why or how. She did know this, however: the mist around her had lifted, and now she saw what it meant to be alone, here, at this moment.

  Water. Everywhere. Endless. And she was small—this, she also knew—and so was her boat, and so was the splashing just a few feet away. The water plinked upward like a tiny crested wave. Lalani didn’t want to look, but she could look at nothing else.

  Splish. Plink. Splish. Plink.

  The wave moved closer.

  Splish. Plink. Splish. Plink.

  The water rippled like a stone had just been tossed there, but of course it hadn’t.

  The boat swayed.

  Lalani didn’t move.

  Something was underneath her.

  Splish.

  Plink.

  Splish.

  Plink.

  The boat tilted, forcing Lalani to unclench her hands and hold tight to the sides.

  “Go!” she said weakly. A pebble hitting a boulder.

  The boat stilled, then lifted and lurched.

  “Go!”

  What would happen if she fell into the water? Did she know how to swim? She couldn’t remember.

  Lurch.

  “Stop!” Not demanding. Pleading.

  Suddenly, without warning, a pair of eyes broke the surface of the water.

  Now, the head.

  And—what was this?

  A shell.

  And webbed feet, paddling frantically.

  She knew what this was, didn’t she? Her mind clambered for the word. It was within reach, so close she could touch it.

  Pahaalusk.

  Ah, there it was.

  Pahaalusk.

  This did nothing to soothe her, because she couldn’t recall if pahaalusk were dangerous. Did pahaalusk have sharp teeth that would sink into her fl
esh? Did pahaalusk have claws that could mangle her?

  The pahaalusk paddled desperately.

  Paddle.

  Oh, yes—she had Paddle.

  She grabbed it with both hands. Wrapped and unwrapped her fingers.

  “Go!” she said. More resolve now that she had a weapon. “Go!”

  The pahaalusk coughed. Water spilled from its mouth. Lalani didn’t see any teeth, but she still wielded Paddle and yelled, “Go! Go! Go!”

  She wished the other girl was there. The smart girl with dark hair. Who was she?

  Sola.

  Paddle felt heavy. The pahaalusk was drowning, she realized as the boat rocked back and forth, back and forth, taking on water and making her stomach churn.

  The creature choked and set its eyes on the safety of the boat. Lalani half stood, determined to make herself as tall and frightening as possible without going over.

  A whisper drifted from the mist.

  Kill it before it kills you.

  Lalani braced herself to swing, but in the next moment the pahaalusk managed to leap into the boat, water pouring from its nostrils, eyes dull but shining, head low and heavy. The boat rocked, both of them now standing in two inches of water, her on one side and the pahaalusk directly opposite.

  Lalani stumbled. Raised Paddle.

  The boat righted itself, and Lalani was able to stand without trouble, feet wide for balance, knees slightly bent. She swung back, surprised by how difficult it was to lift Paddle, and let out a loud cry—where it came from, she didn’t know—as she crashed the weapon against the animal’s shell, which had already begun to dry.

  Lalani only managed to strike the pahaalusk twice before Paddle cracked and a thin sliver of wood wedged itself into the soft flesh near her thumb. She howled as the paddle clattered to her feet. She shoved her hand into her mouth and sucked on it, hoping to relieve the pain, which was potent enough to make her forget that she was under attack.

  The pahaalusk watched her. The paddle had left a crevice in its shell. Its eyes were telling Lalani something important, but she didn’t know what.

  The whisper again:

  You owe it nothing. It’s just a pahaalusk. It’s nothing like you. You share nothing.

  Her thumb throbbed.

  She no longer had a worthy weapon, but she had two arms. How easy it would be to slip her skinny arms beneath its slick belly and heave it overboard.