by S Kaeth
Answer’s father shook his head. “My daughter did you a kindness, ebr, in having Ketrik instruct you in etiquette and ordering him to show you leniency with your hair. That leniency has now ended. I will have order in my house. I will not suffer an ebr to argue with his betters.”
He had to force himself to breathe, force his expression to remain still as his eyes locked with his captor’s. Every beat of his heart was a struggle for control, and his nails bit into his hands as his fists clenched. His mind played a fantasy of beating the man senseless, of shoving him to the brink to the chasm and listening to him beg for mercy.
The door clicked shut. He was alone. Taunos sank onto the bed and ran a hand over his newly shaven head, staring with a burning gaze at the closed door.
Answer’s family kept Taunos busy with an endless assortment of meaningless tasks. As days went by, the only constants were the boredom, the unceasing blows to his pride, the slow clumsiness of his body, and the mental fog he couldn’t shake. He made a show of the lack of coordination and speed throughout the day, but each night, alone in his room, he trained to work through it. He hadn’t been able to defend himself, and he was determined not to be caught so helpless again. But he had been determined to follow the rituals for his sister, too, and had been unable to follow through on that resolve. Did anything have any worth now?
When at last he fell asleep at night, nightmares tormented him. Kaemada screamed his name as she fell, snatching at his too-slow, too-weak hands. The force of something massive pressed on his hands, pushing him away from her so she clutched empty air instead of salvation over and over in his mind.
He asked each of the ebrs independently about Eian, and they all gave the same grudging answer—that he would be in a haven with his own kind. Rinaryn looked after children—nothing was more precious. If the story was true, Eian was safe. But he couldn’t verify it. He was subject to the whims of his captors.
Time slid past untracked. No sunrises heralded the possibilities and no sunsets farewelled the day with splendor. There were no songs, no stories to pass the night. He went through his days in a numb haze, marked by occasional episodes of unspeakable rage and followed by bone-weakening weariness. Infinite, tedious tasks awaited his attention, all in intricate detail, but he struggled to focus even for the smallest amount of time on the minutiae before him.
Among the many tasks assigned to him was the care of the garden. The family had a large room in the home filled with potted plants and blazing lights coming down from the ceiling. Answer had proclaimed the garden a fitting habitat for her “pet” and declared him responsible for it. The Kamalti rarely went above ground, except for the Scouts on routine patrols. They seemed to abhor the bright light and cool air of the outside. But they needed food, and Taunos had to admit their gardens were a clever solution.
A wide variety of strange plants filled the garden. Taunos relied on drawings he made to help him identify one new species from another. One plant was poisonous, but so far, he could only distinguish it from the plant that bore delicious red and gold fruit by the number of spines on its leaves. The poisonous plant had three, and the edible plant had five. Then there was a carnivorous plant, which was almost identical to a plant with edible roots except for the slightly rounder shape to its leaves. It should have been easy.
Taunos threw down his drawings after the carnivorous plant snapped at him, yet again. He knelt by the table across the aisle, pressing his hands into his forehead. No matter how he willed himself to focus, nothing worked. He hoped Takiyah and Ra’ael were getting along better, but he had no way to see how they fared. Bitterly, he considered himself a failure in that respect as well. Once, he had been hailed a hero, had been looked up to. Now, he was a captive. Once, long ago, it seemed, he had pushed away from the respect of his people and desired to start at the bottom. But now, at the bottom, he had a rather different viewpoint.
He took a deep breath and stood, determined to complete his task. There would be time enough later to punish himself, or better yet, punish those who had caused this suffering. For now, he needed to complete work and do as he was told. The sooner he became a free man again, the sooner he could look in on Ra’ael and Takiyah. He would find the man who had thrown Kaemada over the cliff and teach him how it felt. He forced himself to believe his sister’s spirit had risen past the boundaries of the mountain and reached the rim of the sky—otherwise, he would never be able to continue, with that failure on his conscience.
One of the other ebrs walked past him with a sneer. Taunos glared at him in response, and the other man crossed his arms. “What do you want?”
Rage boiled over in him. “What do I want? I want to hear my sister say something like, ‘Look at it from their point of view,’ so I can yell at her that I do not want to. I want to grieve properly and put her to rest in a respectful manner. I want to hear her laugh and see her smile. I want her to be alive!”
The man—Tegil, that was his name—picked up one of the fruits he’d harvested and smashed it to the ground, then walked away, leaving Taunos with the mess. The sound of conversation farther down the hallway drifted to Taunos’s ears.
“That one has lost his wits, you know.”
“I bet they all have. Savages! What do we expect?”
“At least their tree-worshipping rituals will soon be over, and they will leave.”
Taunos staggered. The Feast of Starfall was almost over. Dazed, he dropped the watering can with a clatter and walked out of the garden, brushing past the two men blindly and dismissing their outrage as he did so. He went into his little room and shut the door, leaning his back against its solid surface. They had missed the Feast.
Grief drowned him, dragging him under. Flashes tormented him: his sister’s laughter as she watched Míyalin Asarred of Stonefield, who danced as she played the pipes; how her eyes glowed with joy listening to the Storytellers spin their craft; the way she half-closed her eyes, miming the beats during the chants of the Monks of Annularei.
He preferred the feasting, the contests, and the mingling with Rinaryn from every corner of the island: the Rinaryn of Life Valley who lived their lives entwined with that of the elves deep in the forests, or the people from the wide open spaces of Dragonmoor, or those who lived in Havenshore where the sea was kind and welcoming, where they could play upon boats in the water, or the people from Stonefield with their wit and riddles, or the brave exploits of the people of Mountainhold.
They had missed it, and what’s more, it would never hold the same draw again. Kaemada would never again see a Feast of Starfall. Taunos slumped to the floor and buried his head—his shaven head—in his hands.
ÍTAL
Chapter Ten
Thus is the partnership between Rinaryns and Kamalti severed, for they are a people of passion and violence, and there is no place among us for them. Better, by far, to separate and remain true to our vows. They shall refrain from treading our Holy Mountains except during preordained times, and then, only along prescribed paths. For our part, we vow that no law-abiding Rinaryn shall come to harm at the hands of a Kamalti, from here until the end of time. To further demonstrate our constancy (even in the face of Rinaryn whims), Kamalti shall assist lost Rinaryns to be reunited with their kind.
-fragment of a scroll safeguarded by the Monks of Annularei
Kaemada brushed the hair out of her eyes, leaning wearily against someone’s home as she watched an Angels-food shamble past. A man roasted a bird a little way down the street, and the aroma made her mouth water even as her stomach turned at the thought of eating the sacred. She turned her back, pushing down nausea, and refocused. How to solve the problem of the Angels-food? It was good to have something to distract her from the city.
She’d followed them all morning, observing from a distance. So much was unexpectedly dangerous here that she’d begun to approach everyone with caution. But the Angels-food were not regular people. They stood or walked until they collapsed, and there they either died or gather
ed the strength to lurch back to their feet for a little while longer. She never saw them eat or drink, even as she licked water from walls and ate insects when she could find them. Terror paralyzed her at the very idea of taking from the gardens again—especially after she saw the remains of someone the guards caught.
The Angels-food in front of her was a young woman about her age. Who had she been? How had she ended up here? Did she have children as well? Hurrying forward, Kaemada caught up to the woman as she bumped into a wall, turned, and blindly navigated the corner.
“Betah teimelei,” Kaemada said.
The woman ignored her, hitting her head on a piece of roofing that dangled from the ruins of a home.
Kaemada reached out to take her elbow. “Here, let me help you.”
As soon as she touched the woman, the Angels-food transformed into a screeching flurry of nails and teeth, raking long gouges in Kaemada’s arm and cheek. She ducked, Galod’s training taking over, and snaked one way and then another to avoid the woman’s flailing arms. The woman’s fingers curled into cruel talons, dirty, broken fingernails seeking flesh. She fought as she walked—blindly.
“I mean no harm,” Kaemada gasped. Her side hurt, and her leg buckled as she dodged another swing of the woman’s arm. The Angels-food turned toward the sound of her voice, lips pulled back in a grimace—no, a snarl. Horror gripped her as the Angels-food lunged, mouth gaping. Those teeth were bared as weapons.
Kaemada threw herself to the side, evading the Angels-food’s clumsy grab. She pushed herself off the wall of the house, propelling herself past the Angels-food and sprinting down the road. Many houses later, hearing no sounds of pursuit, she slowed and turned to look, pressing one hand to her bloody cheek and the other to her wounded arm. The Angels-food was standing where she’d left her, slowly navigating around that same broken section of the roof. Kaemada panted, her heart beating in her ears, while the Angels-food made it around the obstacle and shambled away as if nothing had happened.
Laughter sounded nearby, and Kaemada stumbled back, her heart racing again. A woman with a grimy face doubled over, slapping her knee as she cackled. “The Angels-food are mind-sick, and you a dreamer for think you fix them.”
Kaemada avoided the Angels-food after that. It wasn’t hard, as most of them stood near the walls, while she spent most of her time by the market. If Eian was in the city, surely he would find his way to the market, eventually. That would be how she would find him, rather than wandering in random patterns. While she hoped he wasn’t here to find, she didn’t want to leave any chance of stranding him alone in this terrible place. It was difficult to trust even the few people friendly enough to acknowledge her. It wasn’t just the hideous surprises of the city. Every time the people here spoke, they betrayed themselves as untrustworthy. The Great Mothers always admonished children not to shorten their words, not to leave holes for lies to hide in. Here, everyone did it.
She was sitting at the edge of the market when the sound of hoofbeats reached her ears. Horses. She hadn’t seen horses since arriving here. The residents drew back swiftly to the edges of the streets, and Kaemada followed their example. Just in front of her, a vendor slipped a large man a bag, and he stuffed it under his wide belt with so casual a motion she almost missed it.
Three men wearing well-made clothes and leather armor rode up, jerking their horses to a halt so they reared up only a few paces from her. The people closest to them drew back even farther from the flailing hooves, grimaces of fear on each face. The press of bodies around Kaemada was dizzying. She shoved her way back to where there was air to breathe, watching everything with wary eyes. Following the guards, two placid horses carried two identical figures, each so completely shrouded that it wasn’t clear whether they were men or women.
The guards dismounted and looked around with sly grins. Kaemada shrank from their gaze.
“Tax time!”
Merchants grumbled under their breaths, pulling out their meager coin purses. One guard walked around the circle, snatching bags from the hands of the merchants, shadowed by one of the shrouded figures on horseback. One man clung to his purse, and one of the shrouded figures put out a hand. The merchant reeled backward, stumbling into the people behind him. His purse fell to the ground and people scurried back from it as if it were a venomous creature. The guard scooped up the purse, then kicked the merchant, who huddled where he’d fallen. Kaemada surged forward, but a man behind her caught her by the arm.
“Oowih you soft in the head? You will make us all purged!” he hissed in her ear. “Just keep your head low and the guards will tire.”
She glanced back at the man holding her, his brown eyes glowering at the guards, then returned her gaze to the shrouded figures. The one must have telekinesis; was the other a psion as well?
The guards dumped the coins on the ground in a large pile, throwing the empty bags to the side. They scooped up most of the coins in heaping handfuls, pouring them into the pouches at their sides, while on horseback the two shrouded heads surveyed the crowd.
One of the guards raised his eyebrows at a young man who watched in clear outrage. “You there. Something for saying?”
The young man shook his head, fists clenched and teeth grinding.
The guard grinned, his voice dripping honey. “Tell me… Do you think we’re unfair?”
“You’re very fair,” the young man replied, edging backward.
“No, no, I wouldn’t want you for thinking us unfair. Let us bring you for the palace and make sure we’re just in using your money,” another guard joined in.
The young man paled, but the guards caught him before he could run. A woman wailed as the second shrouded figure pointed her out, and the guards grabbed her, too. In moments, they hauled both of them away, trailed by the shrouded psions. Only when they were out of view did the crowd relax like a sigh of relief.
Kaemada gaped around her. “What happened?”
“They’s dead and gone. The guards will bring them for the palace, have some fun, then kill them,” the man behind her grumbled.
“But… They took the merchants’ money!” Kaemada objected.
“Hush! No let them hear,” hissed another.
“That was taxes,” spat the man.
People began to go about their business again, many surging forward to fight with the merchants over what was left of their money. The burly man from before took the pouch out of his belt and returned it to the merchant, who smiled and bobbed his head.
Kaemada stared down the road where the guards and psions had gone. She hadn’t felt the presence of the psions, only seen the evidence. A shiver crawled over her skin. Was her ability still broken? Would it ever return? For the first time, she truly understood why psions might be regarded with distrust or even fear.
“The psions,” she whispered.
“Psions is the king’s, loyal for him.”
“What if a psion isn’t?”
“Then they’s dead.” The man walked away, vanishing among the others leaving the market.
Kaemada frowned, glancing around the marketplace. The sound of hoofbeats came again as she inched her way toward the burly man. The psions were in the lead this time, flanked by the guards.
“Someone,” a guard growled, “didn’t pay their taxes.”
The merchants stared at each other, murmuring and shifting as the shrouded figures turned this way and that. In unnerving silence, one raised an arm, pointing toward the burly man. The guards tore through the crowd, thrusting people aside as they chased the fleeing man. It was unfair, unjust. She couldn’t stand by while they tormented people. Kaemada shoved a load of empty barrels over, blocking the way the man had gone.
The guards scowled, turning toward her. She ran, twisting and ducking through the crowd. Glancing back, she saw the guards had turned back for their horses, and the crowd made way for them lest they be trampled. Kaemada made the most of her few, precious moments, slipping into an alley and pressing herself against the s
ide of the house, desperate to make herself as small as possible. The horses galloped down the street and passed her. She peeked out, her heart pounding as they wheeled back toward her.
A ball rolled into the street, and a small child ran after it. Gritting her teeth, Kaemada gave up her tenuous hiding spot and sprinted across the road, scooping up the boy and tumbling out of the way of the hooves. The guards yanked their horses to a halt, and she released the child, scrambling to her feet. As she ran on, a woman snatched the boy into a house, scolding him.
The guards leapt from their mounts to chase her on foot as she bolted into a narrow alley. Gasping for breath, Kaemada pushed away the fatigue claiming her. She had regained some of her strength in her days of walking, but couldn’t keep up the pace for long. She scrambled up alleys and down side passages, trying to stick to areas she’d grown somewhat familiar with. Rounding a sharp corner and seeing her chance, she dove into a refuse heap, covering herself hastily. The stench of rotted wood, feces, and decomposition filled her nose, but she resisted the urge to gag, trying not to breathe. Her muscles drawn taut as a bowstring, she waited, listening as the guards searched for her.
Finally, their steps faded away. She waited for as long as she could force herself to and then emerged, shaking herself off as best she could. A thankful sigh escaped her. She had gotten away, though she stank so badly anyone could find her if they knew to smell for her.
No longer caring where her feet carried her, she stumbled away. Her legs trembled and her knee shot hot pain through her every time she put weight on it, the old injury acting up again. How was she going to survive here when almost every day she managed to re-injure herself? How could Eian survive? She shook her head. He had to be alive. She had to keep hope it was so.