Between Starfalls

by S Kaeth

  Kaemada withdrew, picking a direction at random. Unsure what to think, she trudged along, bewildered and disheartened, her leg aching more and more severely. As she turned a corner, she nearly ran into a woman clutching a scrawny zeriy as she argued with a man in sharp tones.

  “You no can! She’s mine!” the man pleaded.

  “You no keep her where she belong, I eat her.”

  “Give her for me!”

  “No! I’m hungry.”

  “Excuse me,” Kaemada ventured as she deciphered their thick city dialect, and both turned to glare at her.

  “Oowih you want?” both demanded.

  “I—perhaps I could help you. You seem in need of arbitration.”

  “We no need fancy words,” the woman snapped.

  “Oowih in return?” the man asked at the same time.

  Kaemada shrugged a little, wary of hope. “I could use some food or drink.”

  “No.” The woman’s eyes flashed as she looked at the man. “I’m no sharing my meal.”

  “I need her. She catches pests. Let her free,” pleaded the man, grabbing hold of the zeriy. The woman twisted away and the zeriy yelped. The man let go, rubbing his hands together in distress.

  “What would it take for you to let the zeriy go?” Kaemada asked.

  “I need for feeding my family,” snapped the woman.

  “Well, she will no give you much for eating. Look at her, she’s skin and bones!” the man replied.

  “You should did-think before you did-take my dinner.”

  “I no did-steal it and you know it, Mara.”

  “What was your dinner?” Kaemada asked.

  The woman narrowed her eyes suspiciously but the man explained, “Mara think I did-take moldy bread from her. I would rather eat dirt than that foul thing she’s so keen on!”

  “No forget the roots and strip of jerky, you thief!” the woman shouted.

  “Where were they when you last saw them?” Kaemada asked.

  “In the pot, simmering, just now. I did-go for call my boy in to dinner and did-leave my girl tending the stew. When I did-come back, she had been attack and the stew take.”

  “That’s terrible,” Kaemada breathed.

  “It was no me!”

  “You was here when I did-return!”

  “Ooowih would I hide it? I no had time!”

  “You will pay, Takas!”

  The zeriy whined, its brown eyes plucking at her heart. Zeriyn had longer legs and shorter fur than wolves, and preferred the prairies instead of the forests. Still she ached, the pain deep and primal, for the bond she was missing. She could not stand by and leave this zeriy to suffer, no matter that she did not know any of those involved. Maybe, just maybe, if she could save this one life, things would get better. Kaemada could honor Tannevar’s memory, if she could not find him.

  “Let me track down your stew.”

  The man and woman turned to stare at her. The woman scoffed. “Look in his thieving belly.”

  “What harm would it be to try?” Kaemada asked. “But please, let the zeriy live until I return.”

  “Until the sun’s one hand above the wall,” the woman said finally, indicating the distant wall and demonstrating, holding her hand above where the wall ended and the sky began.

  Kaemada nodded with a smile. “I will do my best.”

  They returned to their argument even as she left them. She wandered nearby for a while, working her way in an expanding circle. She saw no stew pot and no Eian, but plenty of suspicious and hungry faces. Her allotted time spun away, and her spirits sank. Her search for the missing stew seemed to be no more fruitful than her search for Eian had ever been. Her leg hurt, her heart hurt, and it seemed nothing she did made a difference.

  One grubby young woman, her shawl tugged close around her face, smiled at her questions. “I did-have grand plans, once. Soon, you will trudge along with us.”

  Kaemada sighed. “I’m also looking for a little boy. His name is Eian and he would also be new. I only hope he isn’t here…”

  “Be careful Aleis no see him.”

  “Aleis?”

  “The king’s little hunter. Heartless, cruel girl! She look to young, pretty things for please the king. These days that mean mostly newcomers. Best of us already did-ugly ourselves pretty good.”

  She hardly paid attention, stepping forward with a sniff. Her eyes widened. “The stew!”

  The woman’s eyes flashed with defiance as she blocked the door to her home. Kaemada feinted to the right, then ducked under the woman’s left arm and into the hut. The woman turned, seizing her by the back of her tunic.

  The interior was dark, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but as her vision cleared, she saw the hut was packed with people crowded around the stolen stew pot. They watched her, young and old, with a mixture of defiance and distrust.

  “Surely there must be other ways to feed yourselves than stealing from someone who has nothing as well!” Kaemada said.

  “This’s about the pot. The food will be good though, too,” the woman said, raising her chin.

  One of the inhabitants, a young man, spoke up with pride. “The pot’s good and hot, Neia. Did-take me and Yetan holding blankets and our hands covered in clay for get it here.”

  “Why does that…” Kaemada trailed off. Every person in the hut, young and old alike, had burns on their faces. Every single one except three young children held in the fierce protection of their mothers’ arms.

  “What—” Kaemada squeaked, but couldn’t get the words out for the outrage and sorrow and fear rising in her. She didn’t dare consciously acknowledge the guess that part of her mind had leapt to.

  Neia released her and looked at her with something akin to pity on her face. “I did-think the same when I did-arrive six moons ago. But then that Aleis did-take my Tinos away for the palace, and I no see him since. All because I was proud of how handsome a boy he was. My folly, and I since did-learn.”

  She lowered her shawl and swept her hair to the side, revealing burn scars down the left side of her face and throat. Kaemada gasped and recoiled while guilt at her reaction rolled over her like a flood. The woman laughed. “Here, we do you too. Maybe you like. Whatever did-happen for your face, that’s not enough for save you.”

  Kaemada shook her head in denial. “No! No. Surely there must be something we can be do. The guards—”

  “The guards!” laughed one of the adults, and the laughter spread through the group as if Kaemada had hit upon an excellent joke. Kaemada stared at them mutely.

  Her laughter finished, Neia spat at Kaemada’s feet. “There’s them Fallen, then there’s us Wretched. A Fallen no help a Wretched.” She snorted. “They call us Lowlies.”

  “The Fallen,” Kaemada repeated softly.

  “Yes. All Fallen are welcome into king’s guard. Maybe they will make themselves and the king richer. Few refuse, and those who do end up with us.”

  “What, were you all caught by the Kamalti?” Kaemada asked.

  The woman snorted. “Best of us were born here.”

  The terrible truth struck her like a physical blow. Nothing stopped the banished from having children. Horrified, she pushed down the nausea rising in her. How many generations had grown up in the City of the Lost, forever punished for their parents’ crimes? How many had suffered through generations due to no wrong?

  “Enough. Let’s get this done,” someone said.

  “Please, I need to bring that pot back to its owner.” Kaemada struggled to focus on the small things instead of the horror she’d just uncovered.

  “No yet,” Neia said. One of the mothers brought her youngster toward the pot.

  “Wait!” Kaemada said. “You need heat, and the other woman needs food, and the man wants his zeriy alive. Maybe all of you can get what you want. Especially… Would you be willing to, to, to… help with others as well?” She swallowed back bile. This city was cruel, and maybe that made cruel things necessary.


  The adults in the hut exchanged glances, then Neia nodded. “Maybe it make you leave us alone. Hurry—the pot will no be hot long.”

  Kaemada nodded and ducked out of the hovel, running back to where she thought she remembered the other woman with the man and his zeriy lived. She tried to shut out the terrible truth in the tent behind her while her mind flashed back to the night after her yah when she had returned to find her kaetal in flames. There was nothing in her stomach to throw up, but her muscles spasmed, doubling her over to heave bile. She no longer had any sort of appetite.

  She wiped her mouth and shook her head. Shivers wracked her while her weakened leg threatened rebellion. She needed to think clearly. What sort of horrors existed in this city that a mother would injure her child to save them from greater pain? Nothing like this should exist.

  Fueled by burning rage, she found the woman and man where she had left them, though their argument had died down to simple name-calling.

  “I found your stew.”

  “What?” The woman gaped at her.

  “Let the zeriy go. I found your stew.”

  “Let me see first. You will no trick me!”

  “Do you know of a person called Aleis?”

  The woman hissed. “That hateful girl! Oowih about her?”

  “Only that she’s the reason your pot was stolen. Your stew can be returned to you. You… may want to bring any children you have, just in case. You will have a decision to make.” Kaemada gulped, unable to speak of what she had witnessed.

  The woman frowned at her but then turned and called sharply into her hut. Hesitantly, two children peeked out. The girl was almost old enough for her yah, and the boy probably had about eight summers. Still scowling at Kaemada, the mother waved her ahead. Trembling, Kaemada struggled to remember the path she had walked with such intense emotion earlier, but she led them with only a few backtracks to the hut. The man followed behind, grumbling about not letting his zeriy get thrown into the pot.

  When they arrived, the third child had just undergone the protective procedure, and was sobbing, cuddled in the arms of his family. The hut stank of burned flesh, and the boy sucked on a piece of meat from the stew pot, his right cheek red and blistered. The scene suddenly seemed distant from her and swam in her vision. She held onto the doorframe to steady herself while the woman released her hold on the zeriy. The zeriy limped, whimpering, to its owner, who hurried to carry it away. Kaemada followed him out of the hut. She ran, stumbling through the streets until she tripped and fell in a heap. Figuring that spot was as good as any other, she curled into a ball alone, shuddering as tears streamed down her face.

  IHNISH

  Chapter Nine

  If anyone causes bodily harm to a citizen, recompense must be made covering all medical fees. If the injurer is another citizen, an additional fine of 1,000 viscram shall be applied. If the injurer is a woman, a fine of 500 viscram shall be collected, and the woman must submit to tutelage under a woman of higher social standing for a period of no less than six faces. If the injurer is an ebr, the ebr shall undergo ten lashes. Any Rinaryn causing harm to a citizen shall be subject to ebrid and forgo lashing. Immediately after the term of ebrid is over, the Rinaryn shall be sent to the City of the Lost.

  If anyone causes irreparable damage to or destruction of the personal property of a citizen, the cost of the item must be paid to the owner. If the person responsible for the destruction is unable to afford the cost, that person shall submit to ten lashes. If the person responsible for the destruction is of the three noble classes, the lashes shall be applied in a private setting, while the common man shall be lashed in the Crystal Square. A woman may have a male relation take her lashes, but she shall then wear his favor about her wrist for all to see until the lashes are healed. Any Rinaryn causing damage to personal property shall be subject to ebrid and forgo lashing. Immediately after the term of ebrid is over, the Rinaryn shall be sent to the City of the Lost.

  -excerpt from the Code of Law for the Kamalti City of Codr

  Ra’ael rounded on Taunos. “What are we going to do?”

  Taunos sat slumped against a wall, his gaze fixed on his boots instead of Ra’ael’s angry eyes. It was difficult enough to go through the motions of living without also confronting Ra’ael’s scorn. “Nothing.”

  “We cannot just accept this!”

  They had been confined to a room off the great hall after their judgement, with guards presumably on the other side of the door. Ra’ael had turned on him as soon as the doors closed. Why couldn’t she just leave him alone?

  Ra’ael paced, seething. “We need to fight our way out. We cannot stay underground.”

  “We must, to reunite with Eian,” Taunos said. An entire summer, though? It all was so futile, and he was so very tired.

  “Even if you went into the blood rage, our chances of successfully fighting our way out of here are very small,” Takiyah said. “Our last fight did not go well.”

  Ra’ael stopped to glare at them both.

  Takiyah continued, apparently immune to Ra’ael’s ire. “And the risk is very high. We would have to leave you behind or be caught, and you could be killed, too. Besides, then we would never have a chance to learn from these people. Have you seen all this architecture?”

  “None of them are innocent. We have nothing to learn from them.” Ra’ael stomped back and forth across the floor as if punishing the metal panels.

  Killing the citizens of the city would do nothing but doom them further, though the Scouts could use a thrashing. The citizens, though… How many times had he escaped trouble due to the friendship of someone the people in power overlooked?

  “There’s a time to fight and a time to survive. This is the latter,” Taunos said.

  “What would you say if the judged fought while standing before our own Council?” Takiyah asked.

  “What about Kaemada?” Ra’ael shouted. “We should care more for our lives than theirs. This is wrong!”

  Taunos said nothing for long moments, struggling for control. He’d misjudged, had let his curiosity sweep him away. He wasn’t used to working with others he cared so much about, wasn’t used to worrying about them and accounting for them not following directions. And once he’d realized the risk was too great, that these people were unreasonable, he’d tried to get his sister out, and he’d failed. The hero of Torkae, and he couldn’t even save his sister.

  His voice was husky when he finally said, “We need to survive if we are to get vengeance. We need to survive to get information on what they did with Eian.”

  Ra’ael frowned sullenly, her boots hitting the floor with a staccato beat.

  “We have already gone over this. Going around and around will not change the matter,” Takiyah said. “I would rather be captive for a summer and then be free to live my life than have no chance at living. If we die, what happens to Eian?”

  “Tinker’s right.” Taunos watched Ra’ael pace a while longer, then stood and took her by the shoulders. “Wildling, believe me, if it were not for Eian, I would join you, and together we would take these murderers down with us. But now… I have to think of Eian. Going on a rampage through the city would lose us any chance of information on him, and though the chances are small, I will take them. Can he survive a summer on his own? Is he a captive, too? Is he with another family?”

  Ra’ael broke free of his grip with teeth bared. “They’re murderers. Who’s to say they will keep their word?”

  “I will not allow harm to come to you.”

  “Who’s to say you will be able to do anything about it?”

  Her words struck true. Part of him wished he could join her in her unfocused rage. Weary, Taunos sank back down on the ground near Takiyah and watched Ra’ael resume her pacing.

  Unease sat in the pit of his stomach. The Kamalti had left him in a room unwatched, unbound. They knew they had him, that he wouldn’t escape. Their confidence was another blow in itself. He was used to quickly gaining the respect o
f opponents, not this… apathy. And yet, he deserved no respect from these captors.

  Everything had gone so wrong. He intended to protect them, but he had watched, helpless, while his sister slipped from his hands into the crevasse. Now… were the priests right? Was his sister doomed to wander apart from the sun for eternity, cut off from the rim of the sky by this cage of rock? He wanted to ask Ra’ael, but she needed him to be strong right now, and he already felt anything but strong, unable to save them as he was. And then there was the matter of finding Eian. Were all his sacrifices over the years, everything he had given up to help his people and his sister, all for naught? Guilt and grief washed over him like a wave, weighing him down, drowning him.

  “A summer’s a long time to wait,” Ra’ael grumped.

  “It’s much shorter than forever,” Takiyah murmured.

  A great deal of time passed before the door opened, and guards shoved them back into the main chamber, lining them up in the middle of the expansive room. They were still free of chains, for the Kamalti apparently believed justice could only be done in the absence of shackles. Four guards stood at each of the four doorways, their hands empty, but Taunos expected each carried concealed weapons within easy reach. Two more guards stood a pace behind the three of them, armed with menacing scowls. Beyond, people of all ages crowded the chamber, a sea of knobby heads and pale faces whispering and chattering to each other as they gaped at them. Everyone fell silent when the Justices rose.

  The leader of the Justices spoke, his voice ringing. “These three are now ebrs, to serve a term of one circulation for their crimes of trespassing, vandalism, and contempt of Kamalti court. At the completion of their punishment, they will be escorted out of Kamalti lands, never to return.” He leaned forward with a frown. “Beware, ebrs, for if you should commit violence, whether or not by magic, your lives will be forfeit.”

  Taunos exchanged glances with Ra’ael and Takiyah. They needed strength, and he quickly embraced them. “May Eloí’s light shine on you. We will see each other again.”