by D. Moonfire
I hate that people try to kill me just to stop some treaty from being registered. When I take a message to deliver, I’m afraid someone is going to kill me. I cringe every time I come up to a corpse along the road. I’m weak, though, and thankful someone is always there to protect me. Chimípu, Desòchu, that guard in the city, a dozen others. I’ve fumbled through life being… being….”
Mapábyo reached up and kissed him. “You’re you.”
Rutejìmo smiled and kissed her back. It still felt strange that she was even kissing him, but he found that the tiny little touches were addictive.
“And there is nothing,” another kiss, “wrong with that.”
“I just feel like I’m doing things wrong, but I can’t stop. Desòchu said I got lost on the path and I wasn’t worthy of Shimusògo.” He rested his hand where his necklace would be. “Everyone knew that I had a shikāfu for Mikáryo, but it was harmless. Until, that is, we met up again and then….”
Mapábyo rested her head on his shoulder. She hooked one arm around his waist and pulled him close. Her body was warm and smelled sweet.
Rutejìmo let out his breath and shrugged. “I knew I was making a mistake, but I kept doing it. Ten years of being told I wasn’t good enough, that no one would love me, that I was different, and I couldn’t stop myself. I needed to see her and then,” he realized he was crying and wiped his tears, “I ruined everything by staying.”
“You didn’t ruin anything.”
“You hit me with your pack.”
“I was surprised and probably responded harsher than you deserved.”
He grinned. “No, I was stupid.”
She looked up at him. Her frown caused him to cringe. “You should stop doing that.”
“What?”
“Insulting yourself. I don’t like it when you do that.”
Rutejìmo looked away.
She reached up and pulled his chin back. “Stop being pathetic.”
He snorted. “Yes, Great Shimusogo Mapábyo.”
“That’s what Mikáryo tells you?”
“No, she just says I’m pathetic. Never to stop. Most of the time, I think she’s trying to tell me that I need to be,” he chuckled dryly, “less pathetic, but I can’t always figure out what I’m doing wrong. At least with the Tijikóse, they would set down the shovel next to what they wanted me to dig. Or put my dinner near the fire. Guiding me without helping.”
“Or when papa or Gemènyo drop their rolls where they want to help you to set up the tent.”
Rutejìmo jerked. “They do?”
“Yeah, whenever you were gasping as you came in, I saw them moving their rolls or pretending to accidentally unroll it.”
He closed his eyes and groaned. “I’m betting they’ve been doing that for years, and I never noticed.”
“Yes,” she said and leaned into him. She kissed his lips before pulling back. “Now, eat,” she commanded.
Rutejìmo picked up his cold food and ate. He felt raw and vulnerable, exposing his past to someone he didn’t notice a week ago. He expected to feel fear and terror, but instead it felt almost comforting knowing that she wouldn’t laugh at him.
“What was she like?”
He had to swallow the food in his throat. “Mikáryo?”
Mapábyo nodded.
“She’s insulting, to say the least, and rough. She never uses formal names out here in the desert, and she thinks everyone is beneath her.”
“Even in the tent?”
For a moment, he almost couldn’t answer. But then he saw the seriousness in Mapábyo’s eyes and then he nodded. “Yes, but also generous. She encouraged me to learn, all the while telling me I was pathetic. Fortunately, that time I listened and got… better, I guess.”
Mapábyo turned slightly and leaned the crook of her neck against Rutejìmo’s arm. “My first was Desòchu.”
Rutejìmo had guessed his brother was the one to teach Mapábyo, but avoided thinking about it. When Mapábyo didn’t say anything more, he struggled with the idea of his brother teaching her the ways of adults, but then pushed it aside. He nodded, not trusting his words.
“He was very demanding: do this, do that, never do that. One way, his way.”
Rutejìmo chuckled. “Mikáryo never said never. I asked about…” He blushed at the memory and had to clear his throat, “something and she showed me why it could work.”
“What?”
His body grew hot at the memories. He leaned forward and whispered it into her ear.
A heartbeat later, Mapábyo’s cheeks turned dark. “Doesn’t that… I mean… how…”
He had to shift to relieve a sudden hardness between his legs. “It wasn’t too bad after the second time. I kind of liked it.”
Mapábyo gulped and looked away, her cheeks dark and the muscles of her legs holding her thighs together. Her breath was low and deep, almost panting.
Rutejìmo, worried that he had gone too far, looked the other way and stared out into the desert. It was black with few stars hanging above him and barely visible over the dim light of the campfire.
“Rutejìmo?”
He shivered at her whispered voice. “Yes?”
“What….” She cleared her throat and looked down. “What are you going to do? When we get back?”
Rutejìmo tore his thoughts away from lust and darkness and focused on his future. He had spent most of the day thinking about his options. “Maybe stay in Wamifuko City? I’m sure with a city that big, someone will need a courier. I still have Shimusògo and I might be able to pick up odds jobs, just not as one of the clan. I think I know how to listen now, when someone offers without saying anything.”
“I wish you could go home.”
He hated that her voice almost had tears in it. “I can. In a year.”
“No running off into the desert?”
“No,” he chuckled, “I want to keep you happy.”
“You do want that.” She kissed him. “Wamifuko City is at the end of my route.”
“I know the city, at least.”
“Maybe we can get an inn between my routes? You, me, and nothing else?”
“I’d like that.” And, he meant it. “As long as you will have me.”
Mapábyo smiled and stood up. She took the few steps over to Rutejìmo and took his plate before scraping the remains of both into the fire.
He watched, admiring her movements to avoid troubling himself with the fear of his future. Life as a banyosiōu was harder than he would have ever guessed. If he couldn’t figure it out, he would be in trouble. Fortunately, if she would still take him, he could move somewhere else with her protection.
She stood next to him, “Next time, you only need to set up one tent.”
Rutejìmo’s skin tightened and a flush rose inside him. “Then where will I sleep?”
“The same place you’ll be tonight.” She held out her hand.
Return to Wamifuko City
Ostracization is a subtle dance of willing ignorance and looking the other way.
—Tamin Gamanin, Freedom From Vo
With a groan, Rutejìmo slumped against the rough stone. Sweat dripped down his back and neck, soaking into his colorless clothes and prickling along his skin. The cold night air washed over him and muted the stench coming from Wamifuko City.
He wiped the sweat from his brow and leaned to the side to watch Mapábyo approach the city gates. They had been running since early morning, trying to get to the city before dark, but they were still a league away when the sun dipped below the horizon. Despite running so long, Mapábyo only had a few beads of sweat on her dark skin.
Rutejìmo clamped down on a brief surge of jealousy. Mapábyo had done so much for him in the last two weeks. Without her, he would have died in the desert or would be forced to remain in Monafuma Cliffs, a border town uncomfortably close to the pale-skinned foreigners.
“There you are, Great Shimusogo Mapábyo!” boomed Gichyòbi from behind Rutejìmo.
Rutejìmo jumped. He spu
n around to see the warrior striding toward him, inches away from the stone wall and on a collision course with Rutejìmo. Without thinking, Rutejìmo stumbled back toward Mapábyo.
Just as Rutejìmo drew even with Mapábyo, Gichyòbi took a step to the side and bowed to Mapábyo. “I’m glad to see you have returned safely to the city. The desert can be dangerous for a single courier.”
Mapábyo bowed even deeper. “Thank you, Great Wamifuko Gichyòbi.”
“Come, you must be exhausted from running all day.”
Mapábyo gasped. “H-How did you know that? What… I just got here.”
“The stones tell me many secrets. I would be honored if you stayed at my home for the night. The inns will be packed because of the sun festival today.” Gichyòbi held out his arm and turned her into the city. That brought them both face to face with Rutejìmo.
Rutejìmo tried to step to the side, but guards were blocking his way. He flinched to avoid touching them. Spinning around, he looked for some way to avoid the guards, but the only way free was further into the city. It took him a heartbeat to realize that Gichyòbi was doing the same as the Tifukòmi did, leading without acknowledging his presence. Understanding, Rutejìmo walked backwards and to the side to let others pass so he could follow.
As soon as they did, Rutejìmo followed in their wake. He kept his head bowed and focused on the backs of their heels. He knew the route to Gichyòbi’s home, a house made from stone near the center of town. It was the quieter part of the city, in an area the Wamifūko set aside for their own privacy.
“It was a shame you couldn’t make it yesterday, Great Shimusogo Mapábyo. My boys and girl were hoping to meet you, but their grandmother insisted on taking them for the night. It