Racing the Dark

by Alaya Dawn Johnson

  "Listen ... maybe someone should tell you this, Lana. No one around here really wants the witch coming back, not after what happened to Saulo. I don't think anyone will touch you-everyone knows you're a nice girl. But be careful, okay? If anyone gives you trouble, just get out of their way."

  Lana stared at the older woman. Saulo? She must be referring to the man whose wife Lana had saved, but what had Akua done to him? Unable to think of any appropriate response, Lana thanked her and ran back outside. The rain had stopped and the sun was showing some signs of peeking through and clearing away the persistent fog-not as dense in the village as it was on her side of the lake, but maddening enough. Lana absentmindedly unfastened her hat and walked slowly through the streets, unable to avoid the mud that splashed onto her homespun socks and straw sandals. Conversations stopped as she walked by, and Lana grew uncomfortably aware of people's eyes on her back. Mindless village busybodies, Akua called them, preoccupied with other people's lives because they can't find enough interest in their own. Lana had laughed at the time, and then felt a little guilty after. But as the whispers grew louder, Lana thought that Akua had been right. She fumed inwardly-it was only natural for them to associate her with Akua, but couldn't they see that she had no effect on her mentor's actions? A man, a simple fisherman by his clothes and smell, bumped into her as they crossed paths and spat at her feet. Noela's warning suddenly took on ominous overtones-Lana wanted to get out of the town as quickly as possible. Still, she had some shopping to do before she could get back in her waiting boat. With no other defense, Lana raised her chin and held her shoulders back, daring any of the whispering people lining the streets to openly insult her. She had nearly made it to the general store unmolested when a sudden unnatural hush followed by the brief gurgle of a baby giggling made her turn around slowly. She recognized the woman immediately, although she looked considerably healthier than the pale, delirious expectant mother of two months ago. Tied to her back with a green and blue cloth-colors of good luck for a child of difficult birth-was an infant, blinking sleepily at his mother. She lightly kissed someone who stood in the entrance of one of the stores, and then stepped out into the street. After a moment, the man standing in the doorway called her name. She turned around. For a second her eyes caught hold of Lana's, but they left without the light of recognition. Of course, how could she recognize her? Though Lana had placed her own hands inside that woman's womb, they had never actually met. The thought made her feel inexpressibly sad-ever since Kali died, she had felt distant from people. Even the ones closest to her. The man stepped out onto the street, and she saw that he was walking with crutches. She felt another shock of recognition as he handed the woman a rain hat-it was Saulo. After the woman had gone on her way, he turned around and saw Lana. They stared at each other for a tense moment, and almost against her will Lana looked down to see what he had sacrificed for his wife and child.

  His left foot was wrapped in bandages, but even so it was easy to tell that it was half gone.

  Lana tasted bile and for a second she was afraid she might faint into the mud. Her vision was half-white when she sank to her knees with tears stinging her eyes. When Akua had talked about a sacrifice, she had never even imagined something on such a scale. Lana looked back up at the man, who was staring at her with a hard, unreadable expression.

  She suddenly felt a harsh tug at her braid as a man much taller than her forced her up from the ground. "Should I get the bitch for you, Saulo?" the man asked, tugging on her braid so hard that Lana was forced to stand on her tiptoes. Although she gasped in pain, she found herself curiously unable to speak.

  Saulo shook his head. "It's not her fault. Leave the girl aloneshe saved my wife and my baby."

  The man reluctantly released her braid, but Lana still felt too horrified to move. Saulo gave her one last glance before making his slow way back inside the shop.

  "Tell your master," the other man said, spinning Lana around to face him. He had a bulk to match his height, and she realized he had been using far less than his full strength to pull her from the ground. "Her favors come at too high a price. It's a cruel fate, Saulo's-for a cobbler to lose his foot."

  The man stalked away. Lana swallowed, though her mouth had gone almost completely dry. Rather than think about the implications of what she had just seen-and risk being sick in the middle of these incredibly unsympathetic villagers-she walked the few yards to the general store.

  There was no one inside but blind Apano, shelling green peas while humming an old tune quietly to himself. She and Apano had struck up an odd friendship since the first time she had visited the village-he was one of the few people she had met who had been born, like her, in the outer islands. His island had been near the outer fire shrine, where the salty water meant there hadn't been any divers, but talking to him still made her feel almost like she was home again. He was the only other person she had ever told about Kali. He wasn't that old, actually-probably only fifty-but he had lost his sight years earlier. The rumor was that Akua herself had blinded him in return for orchestrating the death of the pirate who had killed his parents when he was a teenager. Since Apano knew she was Akua's apprentice and had never shown her the slightest bit of resentment, Lana had always dismissed it as a rumor. Now she wasn't so sure.

  "Lana?" he said, raising his head. "Is that you?"

  Lana smiled. "How on earth can you tell, Apano? I haven't been here for months."

  Apano opened another pod and let the peas drop into the pot between his legs. "I can't tell everybody, but I can always tell you. You feel different."

  Lana sat next to him. "I saw Saulo today," she said.

  Apano's hands slowed, but didn't stop shelling the peas. "He's holding up pretty well, considering. Probably because he's got his wife and baby boy to be thankful for."

  To her surprise, Lana felt hot tears begin to slip from her eyes and onto her clenched fists. "I didn't know, Apa," she said softly.

  He tossed away the pea pod. His hands were strong and darkened with freckles from long years of making the journeys between the islands. She had always found them comforting, and today it was a relief when he put them over her own.

  "I know you didn't, child. She is very careful around you. Her sacrifices may be painful, but she always gives what she promises."

  "Did ... did you get what she promised?"

  Apano gave a brief, bitter smile that was unlike anything she had ever seen cross his usually gentle features. "Yes. I did."

  Apano's daughter came rushing inside the store, her face flushed with excitement. "Dad, you won't believe this, but I heard that apprentice girl had the nerve to come back here after-" Her expression when she saw Lana was almost comical, but Lana didn't laugh.

  "We have a guest, Kaila," Apano said mildly.

  "What ... what do you want?" she asked after a brief moment. Her stomach was bulging with a pregnancy Lana hadn't noticed when she was last here two months ago. In fact, she looked like she was bearing twins, which would be hard on a woman with such a small frame.

  Lana stood up. "Five pounds of sugar, five pounds of salt, and a small jar of honey. Then you can talk about me all you want."

  The woman looked as though she wanted to say something else, but turned around and began filling up bags. Lana noticed that though she couldn't have been more than five months into her pregnancy, she moved like she was near term. Kaila handed her the bags and avoided meeting her eyes when Lana paid. As Lana was tying her purchases securely to her back, she decided to take a risk.

  "It might be a hard birth," she said. "It looks like you have twins. If things start looking serious, you could ... send for me. I won't ask you for any sacrifices."

  Kaila looked up sharply at Lana and put her hands over her belly protectively.

  "Get out! I don't want you or your witch's help. Get out!" she rushed at Lana and pushed her back against the doorframe.

  "Kaila, enough!" Apano's voice held such force that both of them froze and stared
at him. "Lana was only offering to help. Give her back her money and apologize. Even if you feel sorry for Saulo, you can damn well do better than to pick on a girl who's just as much of a victim."

  Kaila looked at Lana angrily, but she handed her back the money and muttered a half-hearted apology.

  "Be careful, child," Apano told Lana as she was leaving. "Never think you can't end up on the wrong side of a sacrifice yourself."

  Lana was drenched by the time she arrived back at the cottagethe skies had opened up just as she was over the center of the lake, and only Ino's help had managed to keep the small boat from flooding. She thought she might never stop shivering if she didn't get out of her wet clothes immediately, but she still hesitated a moment before the door. What she had experienced at the village made her feel tainted, and yet how could she confront Akua with it? Part of her wanted to scream at her mentor for doing something so coldhearted, but another, weaker, part of her only wanted to forget about it. After all, she couldn't do anything to help. It had always been clear who had the power in her relationship with Akua. If Akua kicked her out, where could she go? Her parents? But wasn't her mother the one who had given her away in the first place? Lana shook her head firmly. Leilani hadn't had a choice. Her mother would never have done it if she'd had a choice. Rain pelted her, and still she did not move. In the end, Akua solved the problem by opening the door for her.

  Akua was wearing a coat and a rain hat, and looked mildly amused to see Lana standing stupidly on the doorstep.

  "You're back, I see," she said. "Why don't you bring the food in?"

  Lana mentally shook herself and walked into the cottage. The front room was warm from the fire burning in the hearth, but she still felt cold. She should confront Akua. She should, but ...

  "I'll be back by dusk," Akua said.

  "You're going out in this weather?"

  Akua glanced out the open door and sighed. Quickly, so that Lana could not follow the words or even the flow of power, Akua recited a geas. Moments later, the rain stopped. The clouds still loomed above threateningly, but she felt the strength of the geas holding them back.

  Lana's heart began pounding again-not with dread, this time, but with anticipation. "There's a geas to stop the rain?" she said, wonderingly. For a giddy moment she imagined herself with such power, and the control it would finally give her over her own life.

  Akua's smile was indulgent and just a little amused. "There's a geas for everything, Lana."

  "Will you teach it to me? You never teach me anything like that."

  Akua shook her head. "You're not strong enough. You wouldn't be able to hold it. Do you know what happens when you aren't strong enough to hold a geas, Lana?"

  She shook her head mutely.

  "Pray you never find out, then."

  And Akua had left by the time Lana realized that she had forgotten to confront her about Saulo. She tidied up the kitchen and tried, without much success, to feel regretful.

  6

  OHAKU CLUTCHED THE APPOINTMENT SLIP, barely able to stop himself from running out of the main hall and into the streets. Yet, happy as he was, he couldn't help but feel a certain amount of trepidation. After all his years of study, it came down to this: an hour after noon one week from today, he would know if he had achieved his dream of full professorship or if he would be forever doomed to his same lowly assistant professor status. In the four years since he had returned from his field study on the outer islands, he had slaved away at perfecting his research and sharpening his findings. A month ago he had submitted the final product to the presiding council of professors, and they had told him today that they were nearly ready to make their final decision. He had done everything in his power to make his research as compelling as possible; now all he could do was wait.

  In its own way, it was something of a relief.

  He hurried home and bounded up the stairs, skipping three at a time. Emea spun around when he opened the door, a quizzical smile on her face.

  "Did something good happen?" she signed.

  Kohaku tore off his purple headband-a little damp with his excitement-and tossed it to the ground. "In a week, I'll never have to see that lousy thing again."

  Emea laughed-an oddly modulated breathy sound that Kohaku found infinitely endearing. "You were quite proud of that two years ago, you know."

  "It's hardly something to be proud of now. I'm getting olderI'm ready for that professorship."

  "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll get it," Emea said, and then turned from him to go back to the loom. She had dug it out of the dusty pile of their mother's belongings a few months ago and had been working at it like a woman possessed ever since. Kohaku couldn't imagine what had gotten into her-she had enjoyed occasional embroidery projects before, but he could see no reason why she would suddenly become obsessed with weaving. The cloth she was making now had an alternating pattern of horizontal deep blue and vertical checks of purple and gold. It was the latest fashionable color scheme used for the lightweight carrying cloths with which mothers tied their babies to their backs, but since Emea didn't get out very much, it was doubtful that she would be aware of it.

  Kohaku watched her shuttle the loom back and forth with practiced gestures. When she had first started a few months ago she was constantly cursing and hitting the machine, but now she looked like she had been doing it for years.

  He stepped in front of the shuttle and tapped her head. "Why do you do that so much now?" he asked.

  She shrugged. "It's a way to pass the time. I like doing things with my hands."

  "But you seem so ... focused. You sit around all day wearing these shapeless shirts-if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were gaining weight."

  Emea frowned. "I'm fine, Kohaku. Leave me alone." She turned her head away from his hands and began working the loom. Kohaku considered tapping her head again but then sighed and moved out of her way. It was her business, after all. She had been acting strangely of late, but he could deal with that after the judging next week, when he had more time.

  Emea pulled the letter from her pocket again, looking around surreptitiously to make sure that Kohaku had gone to his room. She had been fingering it all day, ever since the errand boy had delivered it this morning. "I grow tired of playing this game," it said in the scrawling hand she knew so well. "Why are you avoiding me? If you are not there tonight, at our usual place, I shall consider it over." As usual, it was unsigned in case a copy found its way into his wife's hands. Emea took a deep breath and touched her swelling belly. She would not be able to hide it for much longer-even Kohaku had noticed something was wrong. Letting herself get pregnant with Nahe's child was one of the most reckless things she had ever done, but she could not bring herself to regret it. She loved Nahe, after all, and though she could not be his first wife, perhaps if she gave him a child she would at least be a cared-for mistress. After all the longing of the past few years, she had begun to think she could settle for that. Still, she had avoided meeting with him this past month because she knew that he-if not Kohaku-would have been able to tell she was pregnant. She didn't know how to tell him and she was afraid of how he would react. She stayed up nights longing for him, afraid that after all these years his affection for her was finally waning. He didn't touch her the way he used to, and he spent much of their time together worrying about his wife. It was easier, most of the time, to lose herself in her loom, to find the smallest pleasure in the placement of each thread in the pattern. She was nearly done with the carrying cloth-an inch more, and then she would do the tassels. She had been afraid, at first, that using a pattern and colors so in vogue at the moment would tip off Kohaku, but she should have known that he would underestimate her own knowledge before he'd suspect her pregnancy. Though she couldn't be sure of Nahe, she knew that Kohaku would disapprove when he found out. She dreaded seeing his expression when she told him that she would be leaving and taking the lesser position of second wife to his superior at the Kulanui. He probably wouldn't even come
to their ceremony, quiet though it would be. The thought of losing Kohaku, who had spent his whole life taking care of her, made her sad enough to weep, but it wasn't enough to change her mind. She knew that a second wife in Nahe's household would be little more than a servant for his first-but she thought it would be worth it, to raise her child with a veneer of respectability. And to be with Nahe. Emea's fingers stilled on the loom.

  Tonight she would tell him. When she finished the carrying cloth, she would drape it over her shoulder like a sash and meet him by the steaming hot spring in a secluded corner of the fire shrine. She worked steadily for another three hours, until the early setting sun began to sink below the great volcano. A smile came unexpectedly to her face when she took the cloth from the loom-getting pregnant had been an accident, but she had rarely felt more excited in her life. The baby growing in her belly made her feel more anchored and powerful, filled with a magic all her own. She peeked inside Kohaku's room and saw that he had fallen asleep on his books. She smiled-she should have known that she wouldn't need to fabricate an excuse for him. He had stayed up all night studying yesterday. Since the rain of the past few days had turned the back streets into a mud wallow, she tied on her wooden platform clogs. Though she didn't truly need them, she also donned an oversized jacket and a rain hat- she hated the way men looked at her in the streets after sundown. Finally, she tied the carrying cloth gently around her shoulders. She fingered the blue tassels as she ran down the stairs.

  Nahe was leaning carelessly against a cracked, ancient lintel that had become entwined with a creeping vine-tree whose drooping leaves caressed the top of his head. Emea took a moment to study him, reveling as much now as she did years ago in the set of his chin and his hard green eyes. She knew she would do anything for him, and the knowledge had almost ceased to scare her. The steam from the spring coiled upward lazily, condensed on the ceiling of the open pagoda, and dripped slowly back into the water. Nahe looked up suddenly, as though startled by some noise, and saw her. He nodded, but didn't smile.