“A little slow, is he?” Pillari observed.
“I’m cautious.”
Pillari nodded, seeming content with the response. “Do you know where you are?” he asked.
“Your granddaughter told us,” Liseli said. “Alyssa?”
“Alisiya,” Pillari corrected. He had been resting his right hand on the hilt of the dagger, casually, the whole time he stood there. It made Liseli nervous, but she figured he was doing it for them to notice, so she pretended not to.
“Alisiya,” she repeated. “We’ve been here since yesterday morning. I’m not sure how we got here, but Ivira said she thinks we’re . . . ‘otherworlders’?”
“You’re not sure?” Pillari said, exchanging a look with his brother. “You were just ‘here’ instantly and don’t know how it happened?”
“Well, there was—” Russ began, but Liseli impatiently cut him off:
“I know. That’s why we’re lost. I suppose it sounds kind of implausible, but I thought you might know more about this, since,” she motioned to Ivira, “you seem to know about ‘otherworlders’ and stuff.” She fought back a wince, knowing how nervous she must sound, babbling on.
“They’re real live otherworlders.” Ivira smiled proudly, as if she’d found them and not the other way around.
“I doubt it, Vira,” Currun said, shifting her weight on his hip.
“No.” Pillari shook his head. “No . . . go on with what you were going to say,” he told Russ.
“Nothing,” Russ replied, sticking his hands back into his pockets. “I had some sort of . . . hallucination, I guess, but I was kind of sick yesterday. Fever.”
“You look fine, now.”
“Thanks. Your river did that.” Russ jerked his head over his shoulder toward the river.
“I told you I saw—” Oan began, but Pillari held his hand out to the side and silenced him.
“Good to hear,” said Pillari. “So, you have been lost for a day, now.”
“Yeah—” Liseli jumped back in “—we’ve been wandering around, looking for people. We did see this one little kid, but he wouldn’t talk to us. In fact, he was here just a moment ago but disappeared over that hill across the water.”
“It was the Child, Grandfather,” Oan supplied. Liseli looked at him, wondering where he’d been watching them from and for how long until he’d gone to fetch his grandfather. His thirty-year-old grandfather, she thought again, nothing that Oan looked about ten. Weird.
“Ah. I’m not surprised you couldn’t talk to it. You can’t talk to the Child, you see . . . but everyone here knows that, of course.”
“Oh . . . well, we’re not from around here. I thought it was just . . . a normal . . . kid . . . .” Liseli drifted off in confusion. She was surprised at how nonchalantly Pillari brushed away the idea of a child who wandered around half-naked and didn’t speak to anybody.
Liseli saw a smirk from Currun before he said something she could not understand, again. That’s getting really annoying.
“Ask them,” Pillari replied.
Currun turned to them. “Tell me, where did you learn to speak Alisiyan?” he asked.
What, they think we can understand that stuff? “I’m sorry, I don’t speak Alisiyan,” said Liseli, holding her palms up and shaking her head. “Where did you learn to speak English?”
“Satisfied?” Pillari asked, and Currun smiled tightly. Pillari then informed them: “English, Alisiyan; it is the same thing. We also speak Adayzjian.” He added a phrase in the foreign sounding language, and Liseli just smiled helplessly and shrugged.
She wished that she could turn to Russ and say something in Spanish, or French, or anything these people wouldn’t know — just so they could have the same advantage. Even though Russ was standing right there, she felt isolated and at a loss . . . she couldn’t tell him anything the Alisiyans wouldn’t understand. She hadn’t even wanted to until she realized that she couldn’t, but the realization made her stomach tighten into knots. She put a hand over her stomach — not that she feared puking, there was nothing inside to vomit out, except for water. Don’t think about that right now.
She didn’t want to ask the Alisiyans for food. She’d been thinking about that the entire time she’d been searching out inhabitants, but now that it came down to it, it didn’t seem like the way to get off on the right foot.
“Where are you headed?” Currun asked, breaking the awkward silence.
Liseli wondered if he’d missed the part where she’d said they were lost and wandering, but she gritted her teeth and tried to be patient. “Well, we’re trying to find a way to get home.”
“Why didn’t you turn around and go back the way you came?”
“We tried that,” Russ stepped in before Liseli could answer. “It was like the way closed up. Or disappeared. When it didn’t work, we decided to look for food and water, and figure out a different way.”
“Probably a good plan,” Pillari said, unenthusiastically. He tapped the sheath of his knife, and looked at Currun. “And you found what you were looking for?”
“Well, that river seems as good as water and food,” said Russ.
“All this time you were unable to find food in the wild?” Currun looked at him incredulously.
Russ shrugged, and smiled at the ground. “I was sick,” he said, as if apologizing.
“I saw that Child and kind of got . . . bent on following him, I guess,” Liseli felt compelled to defend their survival competency, but she knew the excuses sounded lame. So what. It was the truth. She looked at Pillari as if to say, Take it or leave it.
“Hm. The Child can have that affect on people,” Pillari agreed, to her surprise. “So you must be hungry.”
“I’m not . . . full,” Liseli admitted, inanely.
Pillari looked amused. “Well—” he extended a hand behind him, and the gesture seemed mocking to her “—then you wouldn’t be adverse to eating something?” Maybe he meant the offer good-naturedly — she couldn’t tell. He stood there, smiling at them. At least the suspicious glint had dimmed in his eyes.
“Breakfast would be awesome,” Russ agreed. “Thanks.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” Liseli nodded. She felt relieved, mocking smile or not. Pillari had taken his fingers away from his dagger. They seemed to have passed some sort of test or evaluation. Funnily dressed, but mostly harmless bordering on inept and helpless, she imagined.
Currun spoke in the strange tongue again — Adayzjian, Pillari had called it. Ivira replied, with her small arms looped around his neck. Oan sounded put-out as he waved his hands again and appeared to be insisting something. Liseli tried to read their words in their body language, but gleaned little more than an argument. A sigh escaped her as she looked at Russ and he shook his head as if to say, I don’t get it, either.
Pillari said something that silenced the rest of them, then he added, “You are confusing our young visitors, here. Please speak Alisiyan.”
“Thanks,” Liseli said, hoping he himself would stick to that.
Pillari responded with a slight bow, a gentlemanly but of course, and Liseli wasn’t sure which annoyed her more. “Come along, we will take you back to our camp,” he said to both of them, and continued to speak as they walked down the dirt road: “We are travelling to the city of Elharan, from our home in the mountains. Our small village is in the Adayzjian Valley. We crossed the river yesterday evening and camped overnight. We should reach the city this morning yet, or early afternoon.”
“Why are you going to the city?” Liseli asked. She’d hooked her arm around Russ’s elbow to keep him near as they walked. He looked mildly surprised, but she didn’t know why.
“For the spring festival,” Pillari answered. “We go there every year.”
“For Aysha’s Day,” Ivira piped up.
“Yes, the Festival of Aysha,” said Pillari. “It begins tomorrow on Aysha’s Day.”
Liseli wondered if Aysha was a word for spring, or some kind of spring goddess . . . or historical figure.
Like Valentine’s or St. Patrick’s Day. There was so much to wonder . . . but she didn’t feel comfortable just asking. Pillari spoke as if everyone, of course, knew about Aysha’s Day, and she felt almost ashamed for being so ignorant. Russ was staring at the Alisiyans, but didn’t seem to be listening. He wore an expression that she was used to, a look of pretend concentration to cover for his mind wandering to something else. She tugged on his arm a little to bring him back to focus, but it didn’t seem to work. They all fell into silence for a few paces.
“Can’t I get down and walk, now?” Ivira whined in Currun’s ear.
“No,” replied Currun, “you were a very bad girl, and you have to stay with me. You know you’re not allowed to play by the river.”
“But Oan would find me everywhere else,” Ivira pouted, wiggling in complaint as Currun carried her.
“Oan’s in trouble, too.”
“Why?” Oan’s head snapped up.
“For leaving your sister alone among strangers.”
“But—”
“Oan was right to come get us,” Pillari interrupted. “I would not want him fighting alone unarmed against two people. If it had turned out to be necessary,” he added with a little nod to Russ and Liseli.
“Were it my sister I would consider it my duty to defend her without wasting any valuable time,” persisted Currun. “Oan is old enough to learn how to care for himself and others.”
“It is a very good thing that this point is moot.” Pillari looked straight ahead with his jaw set.
Currun shifted Ivira. “Who knows what could have happened with the Child there.”
“Oan was right to get us, and he will not be punished,” said Pillari, his words matching his gait — a slow, methodical stalk. The others fell silent.
Liseli and Russ observed the whole exchange with interest, feeling that there was something going on that they weren’t grasping. Liseli was fascinated by the mention of the Child but didn’t know quite how to get them to tell her more. It didn’t seem to be something they wanted to explain. She held onto Russ’s arm, keeping him between her and the Alisiyans. She and Russ may have passed their danger test, but she wasn’t so sure about them.
They walked south through a sloping field, angling away from the river, closer to the trees to the east. Russ and Liseli had come from the east, but here down south of where they’d been the trees thinned out and the hills sharpened. The road was full of buried rocks poking out of the dirt. Soon they crested another hill, and were looking down on a small camp. Three teepee-like tents were set up in a triangle, and a cooking pot hung over a fire in the middle area. Two mules were nibbling on grass near the tents. Otherwise there was no mark of habitation besides the narrow road cutting through the field. The Alisiyans could easily pack up and walk away with little indication that they’d been there, if they covered up the remains of the fire. A wisp of smoke trailed up from the fire and dispersed into the air.
Two women stood outside the tents. One was bent over the pot, and the other paced back and forth with her arms crossed. When she caught sight of them coming down the hill she stopped and waved her hand at the other woman. Then she walked rapidly forward to meet them on the slope.
She had long black hair coiled around her head, and her dress was dyed a maroon color. She wasn’t wearing a shawl, like Ivira was, and her sleeves were rolled up past her elbows. As she approached she put her hands on her hips, looking to Pillari expectantly. “There’s no need to worry,” he said. “Ivira is quite safe. These are our otherworlders.” He nodded significantly, but put up a hand when the woman began to speak.
She ignored his admonition. “And so, they were merrily refreshing themselves at the river?” She had a soft voice, but her gaze was frank and didn’t encourage dissembling.
“Um, yeah,” Liseli said when Pillari didn’t reply right away. “It was a long hike.” She didn’t know what to make of the way the woman turned her eyes on her. She seemed to be appraising her up and down just as the others had, but her expression was guarded and Liseli didn’t know what the conclusion was. She realized that as the woman was looking at her she’d begun to inch behind Russ. How silly. Liseli dropped his arm and stepped away.
“This is Halla,” Pillari said, “our sister. Halla, our new guests are Liseli Luenford, and Russell Markson.” Liseli was impressed that he’d remembered their names exactly.
“Hi,” said Russ.
“Nice to meet you.” Liseli plastered on a smile, then reached out impulsively to shake her hand.
Halla took her hand, her expression unreadable. Liseli didn’t know if it was good manners to shake hands here, or what, but no one seemed about to correct her if it wasn’t. Halla’s hands were red and chapped, but somehow seemed soft. They were gentle hands, she realized. It made her feel more at ease. The woman had an odd way of looking at you, but nice hands. “Liseli,” she said. “A word of advice, be careful whom you tell your secrets to.”
“Uh . . . oh . . . okay,” Liseli faltered, and Halla let go of her hand.
“She is referring to the river,” Currun said, setting Ivira down. “In the future if someone asks you about it, do not answer so blithely.”
“Oh.” That doesn’t make any sense at all.
“Lets keep going until we reach the camp, shall we?” Pillari spread out his arms as if to herd them down the hill. “There’s plenty of time to dispense advice later, Halla.”
She clapped her hands together and turned her back on him without a word.
As they neared the camp, Liseli was hit by the smell of breakfast cooking in the pot over the fire. It smelled like oatmeal, and it reminded her just how long it had been since she’d eaten. The water had tasted good, but Russ overstated its effect. This . . . now this was food.
Liseli tried to look nonchalant as they approached. The tent coverings flapped rhythmically in the breeze, and the sound dominated the air. Everyone was quiet except for the swishing of their legs through the grass. The other woman straightened and waited for them. She was short, with a pleasant round face. Her hair curled in wisps around her cheeks over the hot steam of the porridge, which also flushed her pale brown skin with a pinkish tinge. She looked like an older version of Ivira. Liseli decided that she liked her, happy to see that she was not appraising or calculating her and Russ as they came, simply watching with a smile as if all of them were expected. It didn’t occur to her until later to wonder why the woman was seemingly unworried about Ivira.
“My wife, Martilia,” Pillari said, and introduced them. Granamae, Liseli thought. The woman looked younger than Currun . . . in fact at first glance she was obviously a girl around Liseli’s own age. But she was looking at everyone with a motherly smile, which seemed to belie her youthful face.
“Hello.” Liseli didn’t say nice to meet you again, though it was truer this time.
“Your food smells really good,” said Russ, with more enthusiasm than Liseli had ever heard from him.
Martilia laughed, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. “Good morning to you,” she said. “You both look like you’re starving. Sit down.”
“Thanks.” Liseli was relieved that she didn’t have to answer any more questions before being fed, and she sat down. Russ sat next to her. Halla stood with her arms crossed, tapping her forearm and looking down on them thoughtfully.
“Everyone, sit,” directed Martilia. “Ivira, bring extra bowls from our tent.”
“Yes, Granamae.” Ivira darted into the tent that formed the peak of the triangle.
Pillari and Halla lowered themselves next to Russ and Liseli around the ashes of the fire, but Currun remained standing with his arms crossed. Liseli didn’t understand why, but he seemed to be eyeing all of them with an expression of annoyance or disgust. He thought very little of Martilia’s breakfast, at any rate, because when she prompted him to sit he shook his head and turned away. “I’m going to start packing up my tent,” he announced, and strode toward the one on the right. Oan seemed
eager to shadow him, and also declined to eat.
All the tents were small, canvas structures, appearing to be meant for light travel rather than regular dwelling. As she watched Currun and Oan collapsing the wooden poles, Liseli wondered what kind of houses these people lived in up in their mountain village, and what she would find in the city. Elharan.
Ivira emerged with wooden bowls, and metal spoons. The pot was made of iron. Liseli was glad to see that they were not really primitive people, if not altogether modern, but then wondered why it should matter. The idea was to leave as soon as they could find out how. She began to wonder if these people were going to be of any help, but as soon as her bowl of oatmeal was handed to her she decided that it wasn’t important at the moment. The porridge was nearly flavorless but she thought that it beat a Smiley Burger, and knocked the pants off of nothing. The day was definitely starting to look up.
Chapter 7 ~ Mules
Russ emptied his bowl in less than five minutes. Next to him Liseli spooned her food carefully, watching the others with a squinty look he recognized. She was trying to think of a way to gain control over the situation, he could tell. Please, don’t. He didn’t think there was any way to gain control — the guys had weapons, and they all seemed to know a hell of a lot more than they were saying. Pillari held all the cards. But Russ felt okay with that for the moment. It wasn’t all that bad, because so far things were shaping up pretty well, and as long as they kept going with the flow it seemed the Alisiyans were going to be helpful. He just hoped that Liseli wouldn’t start trying to push the Alisiyans around and screw it all up.
“Would you like some more?” Martilia asked.
“Thanks, this is really good.” He held out his bowl. He’d barely even tasted the oatmeal, but his stomach had stopped trying to eat itself, so that was good. Martilia smiled, flattered, as she dished out seconds.
To their right Currun and Oan were beginning to load one of the mules with the compacted tent. The people around the cookfire had fallen silent, distracted by watching the activity. Liseli broke the silence with a sudden question. “Why did your brother say we shouldn’t tell anyone about the river?” She tapped the inside of her now empty bowl with the spoon. Russ cringed inwardly at the impatient noise.
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