by D. Moonfire
watched her slip into line and her eyes slid away from him. The moment she had to pretend not to see him was the worst, the moment when he wondered if she would ever come back to him. He sighed and paced next to her, neither part of the line or blocking it.
It took them almost ten minutes to get to the gate. To his surprise, he recognized the horse-helmed warrior that stood at the entrance.
“Good afternoon, Great Shimusogo Mapábyo,” boomed Gichyòbi, “you are in good spirits.”
Mapábyo smiled and bowed low.
They shared the greetings, and Gichyòbi reminded her of the rules. The entire time, his eyes never glanced toward Rutejìmo though Rutejìmo knew the warrior could place him within an inch, if it came down to a fight.
When Gichyòbi finished his speech, he cocked his head. “May I ask where you plan on spending the night, Great Shimusogo Mapábyo?”
“Higoryo Inn, Great Wamifuko Gichyòbi, as last time.”
“And the time before, if I recall.”
She blushed and nodded. Rutejìmo’s heart skipped a beat at the smile on her lips. He wanted to reach over and kiss her. It took all his willpower to remain standing to the side, unseen but not forgotten.
“Yes, Great Wamifuko Gichyòbi. May this humble courier treat you and your family to a meal?” Every time Mapábyo returned to the city, she shared a private meal with Gichyòbi and his family. Rutejìmo listened from the side, but he wasn’t allowed to join in. He earned his right to eat by cleaning after the others left the room.
Gichyòbi cleared his throat. “Maybe not tonight.”
“Tomorrow?” Mapábyo smiled at him, her teeth visible between the lips Rutejìmo wanted for himself.
The armored warrior held up his hands. “We’ll see. Things are about to get complicated. Do you mind if I join you? I have some business at the inn.”
Mapábyo tensed but then nodded. “Of course, Great Wamifuko Gichyòbi.” She bowed and took a few steps into the city before waiting for the warrior to join them.
Rutejìmo followed after the two. He kept his head bowed but watched the streets around them. It surprised him, even after two months, how pervasive the dead were: beggars sitting on the corners, men and women picking up garbage, and even someone digging a dead animal out of a gutter. They were unseen by Mapábyo and Gichyòbi, but Rutejìmo saw them with a sinking heart.
As he walked, he loosened the coin purse he just earned and pulled out a few pyābi. He dropped them into open hands while he walked. The beggars mutely bowed their head in thanks. When he first came to the city, he had to beg for a few days before he found employment and a few kind banyosiōu had dropped coins in his hands and gave him a chance to survive.
The Higoryo Inn was a large stone building just off the fountain square. One of the earliest inns in the rebuilt city, it commanded a steady share of the business of the traveling clans. Rutejìmo liked it because they let him buy a room, through an intermediary, at the end of a long hallway where they wouldn’t be disturbed.
He had already been to the room and dropped off his pack. Though he slept in a cramped apartment while Mapábyo was gone, he paid for more comfortable quarters for privacy and her comfort when she was there. It took most of the money he saved up, but money had no meaning without her.
Rutejìmo was interested in something else at the moment, but it was something that required a soft bed to properly show his appreciation for her returning. In many ways, he learned more than he realized from Mikáryo’s lessons.
When Mapábyo and Gichyòbi reached the front entrance, Rutejìmo stepped to the side and started around to the back. He would enter from the kitchen and meet her in the room. But as he came around the corner, he skidded to a halt when he saw two Wamifuko guards in the gap between buildings. The heavily armored figures had their back to him, but their wide shoulders blocked the alley completely.
Rutejìmo worried his lip and turned away, only to notice a pair of guards standing a rod away and partially blocking the road. A prickle of fear ran down his spine. Rutejìmo glanced around, spotting more guards marching across the road before standing in the middle.
In a matter of seconds, they had cut off his escape routes. He would have attracted attention to himself if he tried to leave.
He looked around for some way to avoid touching anyone, but he was trapped. His stomach clenched and a sour taste tickled the back of his throat. Clenching his lip, he rested his hand on his tazágu and slipped into the inn after Mapábyo.
Only to run into Mapábyo’s back. He recoiled and slipped to the side, backing along the wall. He tried to orient himself. When he caught sight of red and orange, he froze. His eyes widened with fear and his heart slammed against his ribs.
The Shimusògo were there. He looked into the faces of Chimípu and Desòchu. Both warriors stood on either side of Rutejìmo’s grandmother and head of the clan, Tejíko. Behind the three, Hyonèku and Kiríshi. There wasn’t a single smile in the room and Rutejìmo felt the air pressing down on him, squeezing out his lungs. He looked desperately around until he settled on his grandmother’s face.
The only relief, though minor, was that no one looked at him. They all knew he was in the room, but not a single eye even flickered toward him. The feeling of isolation grew, and he choked at the sensation of being unseen.
“Do you know why we’re here, girl?” growled Tejíko. She sat on a padded chair with a glass in her right hand. Her long hair, as white as a cloud, hung over her shoulder and danced against the floor. The heavy ring she wore swung lightly against her thigh, the twisting of the ring betraying Tejíko’s anger.
Mapábyo trembled as she stared at the people in front of her. She gulped loudly and clenched her hands into fists before she answered. “B-Because I haven’t come home in a while.”
Tejíko set down her glass. “Were you planning on ever coming home?”
“Yes! Um, yes, Great Shimusogo Tejíko.”
“When?”
The simple question hung in the air. Rutejìmo closed his eyes and fought the urge to speak up. He didn’t know what would happen, but he was already dead to the people in front of him. It didn’t matter if he had grown up with them, or was related to two of them, he was unseen.
Mapábyo took a deep breath and her pack slid to the ground. “Soon.”
A tic jumped in Desòchu’s neck.
“The only answer,” said Tejíko, “you will give is tomorrow morning.”
Mapábyo’s head started to turn toward Rutejìmo, but Tejíko snapped out.
“Girl!”
Mapábyo and Rutejìmo jumped. Mapábyo bowed deeply, her body shaking with her fear. “I’ll leave tomorrow morning, Great Shimusogo Tejíko.”
Tejíko nodded.
Mapábyo’s shoulders slumped limply. A shake trembled through her and Rutejìmo saw the glitter of tears. He wanted to hold her, to touch her, but his feet remained rooted in place by the presence of his clan and the fear of losing his love.
Groaning, Tejíko levered herself out of the chair and stood up. Her bare feet were gray and wrinkled, but covered in the same dust and sand as the rest of the runners. Unsteadily, she stepped over to Mapábyo and stood in front of her.
Rutejìmo could see the intense green of his grandmother’s eyes. She was feared by everyone in the clan for her firm hand, and also her cruel punishment. While he was growing up, he was frequently the target of her beatings. He had no doubt she would do it again, if she was allowed to see him.
“Girl,” Tejíko said, “Rutejìmo is dead.”
Rutejìmo jerked at the simple words. He felt like collapsing to the ground.
Mapábyo shook her head. “No, Great—”
“Girl!” interrupted the older woman. “If you don’t understand that, you will follow his path.”
The muscles in Mapábyo’s neck tightened.
Tejíko slapped her. The crack shot through the room.
As Mapábyo ground her fists into her side, Tejíko leaned forward. “No, I mean for the rest
of your life. You,” she jammed her finger into Mapábyo’s chest, “will be dead to this clan, and there is nothing you, your papa, mama, or anyone else, living or dead, will be able to do about it. Do you understand?”
From behind Tejíko, both Hyonèku and Kiríshi paled. Tears glittered in Kiríshi’s eyes.
Rutejìmo struggled with his thoughts. He could picture throwing himself to defend Mapábyo, but Desòchu and Chimípu would stop him before he had a chance. Even the thin veneer of being dead wouldn’t stop the two warriors from killing him. He forced himself to concentrate on making fists and suffered through his helplessness.
“Simultaneously,” Tejíko said suddenly as she lowered her hand and took Mapábyo’s hands in her own, “I also know that if I follow through, I’ll lose not only you but my… something else important to me.”
Surprised, Rutejìmo stared at his grandmother. The change in her words sounded almost deliberate, but shielded like someone dealing with the unseen.
“Great Shimusogo Tejíko?” Mapábyo looked up, her brow furrowed in confusion.
“Yes, my dear?”
“I-I,” Mapábyo sobbed as she struggled with her words, “love him.”
Hyonèku closed his eyes tightly and reached out for Kiríshi’s hand.
Kiríshi’s lower lip quivered as the tears welled up in her eyes.
Tejíko reached up and used her thumb to wipe at Mapábyo’s tears. “I know, and it is healthy to grieve.”
“But he isn’t—!” Mapábyo stopped herself, the word hanging in the air.
With another sob, she