Between Starfalls

by S Kaeth

  Her legs were shaking so hard she could barely walk when someone stepped out from an alleyway. Her feet stumbled to a stop, her weary muscles protesting the sudden change. She stared. The woman she had met her first day scowled at her.

  Warily, Kaemada mumbled. “Betah.”

  To her surprise, the woman responded, her voice curt. “Betah.”

  Kaemada shifted her weight. It had been so long since she’d had anything approaching a normal conversation—about three days since she had arrived in the city, although it seemed much longer.

  “Come,” the woman beckoned, glancing around.

  “Where?” Was this some new horror?

  “Oowih you want for live long enough for find your boy?”

  After a moment’s hesitation, Kaemada fell in step behind her. The woman wound her way through a series of streets and alleys. At one point, she stopped with a “shush” and waited in the shadows while a group of guards walked down the street before continuing. It was a long walk, and Kaemada bit her lip against the flaring pain that lanced through her with every step.

  Finally they reached a small house far from the wall and the woman ducked inside. Again Kaemada hesitated, then she pushed aside the curtain in front of the doorway and entered. A giant of a man rose to his feet, snapped the curtain out of her hand and back into place, and sat back down on a rickety chair that groaned under the strain.

  Kaemada looked around the house’s only room. The woman tended the fire to bring some warmth to the cold room, while the man bent over a pair of shoes he was mending by the dim light, utterly ignoring her.

  “Betah.” Unease muted Kaemada’s voice. She could feel the walls pressing in on her, the low ceiling threatening to entrap her. She watched the couple, trying to distract herself from her claustrophobia. Recognition hit her like a slap in the face. This was the man from the marketplace earlier. He should have stood out by his size alone, being taller even than Taunos, but many of the guards were built like her brother as well. “You! You made it away!”

  “Keep your voice down,” the woman snapped.

  Kaemada blinked. The woman had spoken without an accent. She softened her tone. “I’m relieved.”

  The man glanced at her, then returned his attention to his work, his expression inscrutable.

  “Ameyitum,” Kaemada whispered. Shivering with exhaustion, she sank the the floor, uneasy and unwelcomed.

  The woman blew on the flames and poked the sparse wood with a long, sharpened stick. “Did they catch you together?” she asked.

  Kaemada sat up straighter, blinking at the question. “Eian and myself? The Kamalti? No. He disappeared a little over a day before me. I was looking for him.”

  “Then he has likely been here several days already.” The woman fixed Kaemada with a frank look. “The Kamalti bring all who trespass on their mountains here.”

  “All?” Kaemada frowned. “Why?”

  The woman shrugged. “Maybe they enjoy watching us scrape out a living. Your boy, he could be anywhere.”

  “Who might take him in?”

  The woman scoffed. “We all have enough mouths to feed as is.”

  Kaemada frowned in silence. In normal Rinaryn life, those who had plenty aided those who needed help, the way she shared her home with Ra’ael. But the woman’s words confirmed what she’d seen here. No one would help Eian.

  “Tell me what your boy looks like.”

  The back of her neck prickled with suspicion. “Why are you ready to help now when you refused me before?”

  “Lucky for you that you got away with that fruit. Ignorance will not save you from the king’s wrath.”

  She shivered. “There are no kings in Rinara.”

  “Pah, but you’re in the City of the Lost, and here, we have a king. No one steals from the king.”

  Kaemada scowled. “That makes no sense. Who could own the trees? Wait… You! Were you the one who told me to run?”

  The man snorted.

  The woman frowned at him as she answered Kaemada. “I wanted to see what you were made of. You may have your head in the clouds, but you have decent instincts. You made it out of that scrape. Barely, but you did it.”

  Kaemada’s frown deepened as she seethed against all the cruelties she had witnessed in the last few days. “There’s so much hunger and suffering here. There should not be when others nearby have so much plenty!”

  “Welcome for the City of the Lost,” the man rumbled.

  “Now. If I’m going to help you find your boy, I need to know what he looks like.”

  Kaemada sighed, tempering her hope. “He has four summers and dark brown curls with brown eyes. He’s a quiet boy, thoughtful. We’re from Heartwood, from the kaetal of Torkae.”

  The woman and man exchanged a glance, and the man shook his head. The woman thinned her lips. “He may already have been brought to the palace.”

  “Then to the palace I will go,” Kaemada said, climbing to her weary feet.

  In a flash, she found her way blocked by the woman. “And what good do you think will come from you being killed? Or captured by the Fallen?”

  “It’s my risk to take.”

  “That’s what comes from helping a newcomer.”

  The woman glared at the man and then turned her anger on Kaemada. “Stop your foolishness. You asked me for help. I’m going to help you. My way will find this little boy you profess to care so much about faster than you aimlessly searching!”

  “Why are you willing to help me now?”

  The man put down the shoe and leveled his gaze at her. “Why did you help me? You could have got killed, and I’m a stranger.”

  “It was the right thing to do,” she said. “Just as you trying to help that merchant was right.”

  “You have been stirring up quite the ruckus meddling in things,” the woman said.

  “I have only tried to help where I could.”

  “Most people here are simply trying to get through the day. Worrying about what’s right and what’s wrong’s risky business.”

  Kaemada raised her chin. “How can anyone make the world better if they let fear stop them?”

  “And what will happen to your boy when your head’s so stuck in the clouds it’s easily lopped from your shoulders?”

  All the atrocities she’d seen piled on her. The mothers scarring their children to save them from the guards. The guards bullying people. The Angels-food. The hunger, the want, the fear. She sank to the floor again, her voice breaking. “With all this suffering…” She scowled. “If I do nothing, nothing changes. But maybe, just maybe, a person standing up for what’s right can make a difference. There are no safe paths in life.”

  The man and woman exchanged a look. “She’ll get herself killed, and us with her,” the man said.

  “Yes, but she fights. She has not given up.” She looked thoughtful, rubbing her chin with one hand.

  “What are you talking about?” Kaemada interrupted.

  The man and woman exchanged a glance, but neither answered.

  Kaemada sighed and tried to start over. “I’m Kaemada. Orianne Hope Tailae Kaemada Sierso, from the kaetal Torkae in Heartwood.”

  “You said.” The woman pursed her lips. Her rough demeanor cracked after a moment. “I’m Elisabei Waliko. This is my husband, Reinan. Here, we only use our last two names, forsaking the first three as we forsook our freedom.”

  “Someone told me… the guards, they are all Fallen?”

  Elisabei snorted. “Henchmen for him. The Fallen, once they come here, become guards like those you saw in the market. Their leader’s the self-proclaimed king. They bully the rest of us, especially we who were sent here by the Kamalti, those false, arrogant…” she trailed off, grumbling.

  “We did need be sure you’re no working with the guards,” the man said.

  “Why would I?”

  The woman snorted. “With your overzealous idealism? You come off as a bit hard to believe.”

  “Is it so bad to
dream?” Reading the skepticism on their faces, she faltered. “It seems a bit of dreams and goodness could be well used around here.”

  “Better to have food and water and not be beaten by the guards,” Elisabei said.

  “Sounds like you’re a dreamer as well.” Kaemada folded her arms in defiance. Elisabei grimaced.

  Kaemada deflated, looking down. “It’s not right.”

  “None of this is right. But out there, pampered, it’s easy to forget the hard things. The ones who suffer.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  “I came six winters ago—summers, you would say. My husband was born here.”

  “Born here!” she exclaimed.

  Elisabei gave her a frank look, but Reinan didn’t react.

  “Saiameyitum. I wish I could make it right.” Kaemada looked down at her hands in her lap.

  “Wishing will not get you two steps. Here it’s all hard work. Get your head out of the clouds, and you and your boy might survive.”

  “What about the psions?”

  Reinan and Elisabei exchanged a look again, their faces worried. Elisabei answered, “The psions patrol with the guards to sniff out trouble and other psions. Psions are brought to the king, and if they are to keep their lives, they become loyal to him. Why?”

  Kaemada watched them. It wasn’t fair for them not to know the danger of taking her in. But if she confessed to being a psion, they might not help her. Visions of Eian beaten or dying filled her mind, choking out her confession even as guilt filled her for hiding the truth.

  The man seemed to reach a decision. He stood and passed out a small handful of jerky and a small cup of water to each of them. “Eat. Drink. Then sleep.”

  Kaemada’s thanks for the food, water, and shelter went unacknowledged. Reinan peeked out from behind the cloth covering the doorway, then hefted the table, jamming it into the doorway and sealing them in.

  Kaemada nibbled on the tough jerky to make it last, then took her cue from her hosts and curled up on the floor. Surprise hit her as she realized her claustrophobia had lessened just a little, maybe because the city only offered cramped quarters. Before, she would never have been able to stay in a place so small, but now, she could handle it as long as she didn’t think too much about it. She fought to focus on the few good things until she drifted off to sleep.

  The sound of singing woke her. She leapt to her feet, heart racing in her throat.

  “Lay back down,” said Reinan. “It’s the Angels.”

  “Go back to sleep,” ordered Elisabei.

  Arms wrapped around her shivering body, Kaemada lay in the dark and hummed the counter-tune to the haunting song of the Angels. She concentrated on giving thanks, though her heart was tinged by sorrow for those without shelter this night. Inevitably, her mind turned to Eian, spinning her pictures of him cold, alone, and afraid. Or worse.

  ÌTAL-AETHA

  Chapter Eleven

  Thus spake Naran to Torkaema, “Let one city remain, as a monument to our history.” And thus did Torkaema reply, “It shall remain, as a testament to our folly.” And so were all the cities destroyed but one, and after generations, that city became known as the City of the Lost, and the banished inhabited it for their own.

  -excerpt from a scroll safeguarded in the Yenow Towae of Mountainhold

  Kaemada woke as dawn brightened the sky, light streaming through the cracks between table and doorway. She stretched and crept to the hearth, cleaning out the ashes and building a morning fire from the meager fuel. As the flames lit, she turned to see Elisabei and Reinan watching her.

  “If you have a rag, I can clean your table.”

  Elisabei snorted. “Rags we have in plenty.”

  She buffeted Kaemada aside and poked at the fire, then handed her a small, worn cloth while Reinan pried the table out of the doorframe and set it back in the middle of the room. Kaemada forced a smile, unsure how to respond to her gruff hosts, and focused on wiping down the table.

  Reinan picked up the shoes he had mended last night, inspecting them while Elisabei brewed some weak tea. There were very few tea leaves left to them, Kaemada saw, and no food, but even so, Elisabei handed her a cup. She accepted with quiet thanks, to which Elisabei and Reinan only grunted a reply.

  “Eian may go to the market.” The words came out of their own accord.

  Elisabei nodded. “I will join you. We can watch the road to the palace.”

  Kaemada glanced at Reinan, but the burly man ignored her, picking up his chair and setting it outside the door, where he sat drinking his tea. Once they finished, Elisabei wiped out the cups, then tossed Kaemada a large scrap of fabric.

  “Hide that hair.” Elisabei fussed with the cloth, tying it around her head. “There, that will do for now. You will blend in even more maybe you learn dialect. Keep distance from me.”

  As she spoke, Elisabei slipped into the speech of the city, leaving Kaemada gaping. The woman left the house without a word, and Kaemada hastened after her toward the market.

  Elisabei flowed through the crowd, blending so effortlessly Kaemada lost sight of her multiple times. She tried to stay several paces away—covering more area increased the chances of finding Eian. Still, there was no sign of him on the way to the market, and once there, Kaemada spent the morning sitting on her heels, then standing, then pacing, then sitting again, until finally a merchant drove her away with a knife, afraid her anxiety would attract the guards.

  Far too anxious to stay still, Kaemada trudged down the road. The furtive speech of the city, with all its hidden words and wrongness, ebbed and flowed around her. She clenched her hands, wiping her dirty palms on her filthy pants. Could she trust Elisabei and Reinan? They were the most helpful people she’d met here, but nothing here was as it seemed. Her heart ached for the easy trust of home.

  Movement caught her eyes—people fleeing the road. A group of guards approached on foot. Muscles taut, she dashed to the side, keeping her back to the wall as she peeked out from an alley. Across the street, Elisabei motioned her to stay where she was, and Kaemada nodded. So far, Elisabei had been helpful. How could she mistrust the only kindness she’d seen while here?

  She focused instead on the guards, and her stomach turned. Several dirt-smudged children trudged along with their heads down, their hands behind their backs. A heavily muscled man led them, flanking a young woman with a smile, while two more guards brought up the rear. As they drew nearer, the man in front paused, stiffened, and headed straight for Elisabei. Kaemada held her breath, her gaze darting between Elisabei and the children. One boy tripped, and a guard snatched him up by his shirt.

  The child cried out, “Mahkae! I want my mahkae!”

  Kaemada’s heart skipped a beat. Eian?

  She sprinted onto the road. One of the rear guards shouted, and the burly one turned, his eyes narrowed on her as she sped toward the group. Several of the children leapt on the distraction, plowing into the guard who held Eian while the other rear guard struggled to get them back under control. Their sheer numbers overwhelmed their captors as they scattered.

  Eian’s voice filled her ears, becoming a battle cry. “Mahkae! Mahkae! Mahkae!”

  Kaemada kicked the massive guard in front of her, her foot landing high on his hip and driving him back a step. She whirled, striking the back of his knee, and then punched him in the neck once he’d dropped.

  “Mahkae! Mahkae!”

  The woman faced her, brandishing a knife and a too-broad smile. Surprise halted her motions, for she was just a girl, only a few summers past her yah. But she had Eian. As she stepped forward to kick the knife away, the guard she’d hit drove his fist into her stomach, knocking her to the street.

  “Eian!” Clambering back to her feet, Kaemada dodged another blow, but her weak leg put her off-balance and she stumbled. In moments, the guard pinned her arms together behind her back.

  “Keep her confined,” the girl ordered, wrinkling her nose as she looked at Kaemada.

&nbs
p; Kaemada twisted and squirmed. “Eian!”

  “Mahkae!” Tears made tracks through the dirt on his face.

  The other children disappeared into the alleys, ushered on by Elisabei. The woman glanced at her, regret shimmering in her eyes, before she, too, dove out of sight. But Eian, the one she’d come for, was still captive. The girl stared around them with a petulant expression, then waved the guards back to her. “Forget about them.”

  Kaemada stomped hard on the guard’s foot, wrenched her arms out of his grasp, and flung herself at her son. She clung to him as he sobbed into her neck, even as a guard hauled him backward. Eian. She held back the tears that choked her, relief warring with dread. Her son was alive, and for the moment at least, in her arms. But they were in terrible danger, if the people of the City were to be believed.

  “Well, isn’t this lovely?” The girl smiled, eyes twinkling with cheer. Kaemada shuddered.

  “A mother and son pair’s easy for controlling, Aleis. A good catch.” The guard she’d kicked seized Kaemada’s arm. Kaemada tightened her hold on Eian. This girl with sparkling brown eyes and hair light as summer grain was Aleis, the hated and feared minion of the king? Eian’s tears soaked her shirt.

  “Let him go!” Kaemada said. “Take me instead, but let him go!”

  Aleis laughed, tossing back her head. “Oh, this’s sweet! How marvelous! I do like this pair much better.”

  “Let him go!” Kaemada repeated.

  “Oh, let go of him or he’ll choke.” Aleis waved her hand at the guard. She pointed her knife at Kaemada. “But he’s not going free.”

  The guards didn’t tie them up, but they didn’t need to. Outnumbered and weaponless, her knee throbbing, Kaemada wrapped her arms around Eian. She managed to untie his hands, but the guards shoved her forward, and so she carried her son, too terrified to let him go. Eian clung to her neck so fiercely it was difficult to breathe.

  They walked up the lonely road toward the large building in the middle of the fields, and soon her muscles burned with weariness. The prick of knives at her back was enough to keep her in line, even if the guard she’d kicked wasn’t walking next to her, occasionally grinning at her. Her skin crawled. Eian wouldn’t stand a chance if they tried to run. They’d cut him down before he went two steps.