by Beth Wangler
I run my fingers through my hair, dislodging most of the sand, and tie it back in a loose ponytail at the nape of my neck. With my hair straight and my chanavea dangling over my heart, only my clothing keeps me from looking completely Maraian.
It was the kaite Taikah who gave me my new name. The kaites who raised me set me a mile outside my birth parent’s village. Taikah floated before me, rippling in the desert heat. He touched my forehead and said,
“Mailoua, ‘unnamed,’ once called you were:
Cast into the river, forgotten babe kept pure.
Now emerge Raiballeon, strong and wise to lead
As you follow Aia, who will guide your every deed.”
That name filled me with hope and purpose. I was convinced I would free my people from slavery. Later, I knew Savi and I would do so together.
I haven’t felt that confidence in a long time. How can I be the leader of a revolt? Pitka, a six-year-old, is the only person who would follow me, and that is because Anik and I are the only people who pay attention to her. I cannot lead a conversation, much less a revolt.
No. I lead through recording our history; that is it. I am an orphan, an outcast, weak, and totally dependent on Tatanda’s goodwill.
A sigh escapes me. I suppose I have remembered myself, then. Now I can return to my families.
On the way to the parlor, the voices down the hall lead me toward the dining room. Two new voices join the mix: Maylani’s friends Sandat and Nadina. Humbling myself to Tatanda will be worse with the two of them watching, but I have no other option.
They are just sitting down on the bright cushions around the low wooden table to eat the evening meal. I slip through the door and stand against the wall with hands folded and head bowed. Tatanda sees me at once, but he ignores me until everyone is seated and ready to begin the meal. It is a breach of custom for me to enter after him.
Their chatter peters off in expectation of Tatanda’s blessing over the meal. Instead, he stares straight at me, his dark brown eyes cold. “Raiballeon. Why have you come?”
I bow to him. Everyone’s eyes turn my way, and my cheeks warm. “My kind Uncle, I have come to beg your forgiveness. I was proud and ungrateful. Forgive me for dishonoring you.” My voice quivers. I pinch myself. I cannot cry in front of everyone.
Silence stretches out.
Tatanda clears his throat. “You may join our meal.”
I straighten but avoid eye contact with anyone. There is an open space between Pitka and Nadina. I drop onto the cushions as Tatanda raises his hands over the table and speaks the Iranine prayer. “Spirits, we invite you to partake of this bounty with us and request your blessing on our house.”
The Iranines chorus, “Come,” but the Maraians are silent. For the first time in three years, I stop pretending to agree. I don’t even mouth the word.
Then the meal begins, and I am once more in Tatanda’s good graces—as long as I keep my mouth shut and behave like a perfect Iranine daughter.
Dinner is such a painful experience that I almost wish I went without. Mayli hangs on Savi, gushing over him every chance she gets. Tatanda asserts his authority as the head of the house more than usual. Sandat sneaks side glances at Savi, Nihae, and Elesekk, making veiled insults about Maraians that go unnoticed by no one. Maylani laughs his comments away, but seeing Nihae and Elesekk’s stoicism, after all they’ve suffered, erodes any grudging acceptance I ever felt toward Sandat. Nihae meets my eyes and smiles, but it’s not enough to make me forgive Sandat.
I retire shortly after supper, pleading fatigue. Two candles fill my bedroom with a wavering glow. I’m staring out the window at the moonslight on the residential hill when the curtain rustles behind me. “Good, you’re still awake,” Maylani says. Her tone is still cheerful but much more subdued than I’ve heard yet today.
“Is everything okay?”
“Of course, silly. I just wanted to talk with you. I haven’t gotten to say more than two words to you since I arrived home.” Maylani plops onto my bed. I join her. “So, how are you?”
I shrug. There’s no way I can answer her truthfully. “I’ve had better days.”
Maylani nods and pats my shoulder. “I’m sorry about Tatanda. He was worried about you, but the storm just...it was really, really strange. I’ve never seen anything like that.”
I have seen battles before, and still this one was strange. “I know.”
“So will you be okay? He’s already forgiven you, at least.”
I manage a smile. I doubt all is forgotten, but at least Mayli’s not furious that I’ve lied to her all these years. “Yeah. I’ll be okay. What about you? How did Saviayr’s interrogation go?”
She laughs unconvincingly, then looks down and plays with the quilting on my blanket. “Oh, well, Tatanda said yes. That’s what counts, right?”
Her evasive answer worries me. “Mayli. What happened?”
“Well...” Maylani rubs the corner of her vest between her fingers and pauses. “It’s just...I don’t think Tatanda realizes how things actually are in Izyphor. We’ve always been so proud of our Izyphorn cousins, right, who are related to the sultan? But almost every actual Izyphorn can trace their family back to the sultan. So our cousins are nobles, but it’s not like that actually means much. To most people, they’re not really any better than the freed slaves employed by the royals.”
“Okay,” I agree slowly.
“It was different than I’d expected. And I don’t think we—our family, or even Ira—are as important as Tatanda thinks we are. It kind of seems like Izyphor’s honored our treaty not because of respect for our ancestors’ friendship, but just because they can’t be bothered by such a small people who pose no threat and can’t…”
“And can’t provide them with many slaves?” I fill in.
She takes a deep breath and her shoulders relax. “Yeah. All we’re good for is a source of fordue metal ore, and as long as we don’t put up a fuss about that, Izyphor won’t bother about us. So, really, Saviayr isn’t beneath me. He’s got a powerful position as a royal’s advisor. My cousins and everyone else agreed it’s a very good match. And he’s so nice, too. I like him. And it’s not like there are many options of men for me to marry here.” Maylani glances at me. When I nod, she relaxes more. “It feels good to say that.”
We sit in companionable silence for a while. It’s nice, having her back. And she’s changed. I’ve never heard her talk so deeply about meaningful or political things, especially not voluntarily. I like the changes.
She nudges my foot with hers. “So how were things here?”
“I missed you,” I blurt out. Then I think through my answer more. “We all missed you. There was no one to distract Tatanda when he was stressed or upset. Anik was more clumsy than normal and teased me relentlessly. Poor Pitka followed us around like a lost kitten.”
“I shouldn’t have gone.”
“No, of course it’s good that you went. The time away was good for you, with...everything,” I finish. I can’t bring myself to mention her mother and little brother’s deaths. Part of the reason her cousins on the mainland invited her for a visit was to mourn. “It wasn’t all bad.”
“Oooh, do tell. Did you fall in love with anyone?” Mayli tease, poking my side.
I flinch away from her finger and force a laugh. “No, I didn’t. But Anik’s been flirting with Amnis.”
“Really?” Mayli gasps. She bounces on the bed, clapping her hands. “That’s amazing! I can’t wait to tease him about it!”
Once I manage to talk her out of giving her twin too hard of a time, we settle with our backs against the wall. Mayli leans her head on my shoulder. “So I’ve been dying to know, how did you know Saviayr?”
It feels surreal, talking about my past in this room with her, knowing that Saviayr, Nihae, and Elesekk are just a couple rooms away. “I met him when I was ten. He...he was my first friend, ever. We grew up together. When our parents died, Nihae and Elesekk took me and my little sister in
.”
Mayli bolts up. “Wait, you have a sister? How did I not know this?”
Heat rushes to my face. “I never talked about my past. How could you know?”
She stares at me. “You have a sister.”
“Yeah.” If Maylani spent much time with Savi on the mainland, she might have met Yori there. “Did you ever meet a girl named Yorchan?”
“Saviayr’s sister? Of course I met her. She’s fantastic.”
I can’t hide a grin. “Yeah. That’s my little sister.”
Mayli collapses back against the wall. “Good gracious, I don’t know how many more of these surprises I can take.”
I chuckle. Mayli rests her head back on my shoulder. She’s quiet for so long, I suspect she’s fallen asleep. Weariness starts to drag at my eyelids when Mayli speaks again, subdued. “I can’t believe you never talked about him. There’s so much I don’t know about you, Raiba.”
I shift. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“I want to know.” A deep yawn interrupts her. Mayli ends it with a laugh. “Just maybe not tonight. I don’t recommend taking a night ferry from the mainland. It’s not very restful.”
“Go to sleep.” I nudge her off the bed.
Maylani hugs me before she leaves. “Goodnight, Raiba. I’ll see you in the morning!”
With that promise, she slips through the curtain and leaves me alone. If anyone else comes to talk with me, I’m asleep before they do.
Chapter 5
I dream of my sister and awaken in the middle of the night. The house is quiet. All I hear is the chirping of crickets, the hum of night insects’ wings, and the cries of mockingbirds.
Despite the late hour, I’m wide awake. It reminds me of all the nights I laid awake in Elesekk and Nihae’s house after my parents died. I would listen to them, Savi, and Yorchan fall asleep. Elesekk and Nihae were always first. Laboring all day in the harsh Izyphorn sun sapped their strength. Usually Savi would be next, at least until he turned fifteen and was expected to work on the building project. Then he was sometimes first to sleep.
Yorchan was always last of all. I would listen to make sure she was all right. Sometimes, especially at first, she would start crying. Her tears were silent. The only way I knew was by her strangled breaths. Then I would crawl over to her and smooth my hand over her straw-pale hair, shining in the indree light coming through the open roof, until her breathing slowed in slumber.
Eventually, I drift back into a fitful sleep. I would be fine skipping my morning writing in favor of an extra hour of sleep because of that, but my body wakes up anyway. I may as well write to forget about Mayli and Saviayr for a while.
I swing out of bed. Dizziness briefly darkens my vision and makes me regret the sudden movement.
When the spinning stills, I choose a dress and vest before leaving my room.
I haven’t cared about my appearance for years, beyond thinking about blending in, but I want to look nice today. Is it appropriate to wear colors? They are lovelier than my plain dresses, but this is not a festive day. It would seem ridiculous. With a sigh, I decide on a creamy everyday dress and tie over it a pale gray vest.
Last night, I did not bother putting my hair in curlers, so I work it into a fishtail braid, sticking a simple silver comb at the top of the braid.
On go my sandals, tied at the side. I need no jewelry other but my chanavea. I cradle it on my palm, appreciating the smooth blue-gray fordue metal and the way the light shines through the translucent parts of my stone. The script spelling out “Mar” and “Aia” on either side of the stone is too thin for any human tools to forge, and it reminds me of who I am.
Fully dressed, I quietly find my spot on the porch.
Ceramic pots of desert flowers hang from the roof and cluster on the porch, creating a living curtain around my weathered wooden desk and a large swing. The sight of the swing draws me up short. Nihae and Elesekk rest there together, holding hands and conversing in hushed tones.
A wave of thanks rushes up inside me. I have never seen them so peaceful, so in love. Back in our slave village, they were always worn down from the work and from bearing the troubles of our fellow slaves, and in their fatigue their tempers were sometimes short. Whatever they’ve been through these past years, they have borne it well.
Elesekk glances up. When he sees me, he pauses in the middle of his sentence and nods his greeting. Nihae follows his gaze and smiles at me. She scoots away from Elesekk and pats the space between them.
“Peace to you, Rai,” Elesekk waves me over, echoing Nihae’s invitation.
“May it also return to you,” I answer.
“Come, let us talk,” he urges.
I hesitate. After yesterday’s events, I feel awkward in a way I’ve never felt with them. “I don’t want to break the swing.”
“Nonsense,” Nihae chuckles. “A grain of sand is heavier than you are.”
My lips twitch. I sit between them, but my shoulders hunch and my eyes stay glued to my clasped hands. How can it be that what was once perfectly natural, sitting between Nihae and Elesekk, can become completely alien?
Elesekk clears his throat. “Raiballeon, Nihae and I have been talking. Will you tell us why you left all those years ago?”
I lift my eyes from my lap to the hillside below us, focusing on the black scar of the old mine. “Savi was sick that day,” I recall, “and there was a battle of the kaites.”
“We remember.” Nihae rests a gentle hand on my knee.
The memory takes over: It was hot, as always, but heavy moisture hung in the air, making the temperature more unbearable than normal. Savi was tossing on his bed mat as he had since the day before. His cheeks were flushed against the pallor of his clammy skin. Yori mopped his brow with a warm, damp cloth while the rest of us worked. I would have taken over that evening, but the air held a familiar charge and my instinct told me a battle of the kaites was happening soon. As usual, the longing to be near my kaites, my aunts and uncles who had saved me from the river and raised me, overwhelmed any healthy fear of aivenkaites.
“I wanted to go back to the place the kaites left me. I thought they might have stayed there for me to feel close to them. Savi couldn’t come with me, so I decided to go alone. When I was halfway there, I heard a scream.” The next words refuse to come. My hands grip the edge of the swing so tightly that splinters crumble off. With all of my might, I have tried to forget this memory, but it haunts my sleep still. I have never told this story to anyone, never even written it down.
Nihae sucks in a breath at my last words. When my pause drags on, Elesekk prompts, “You heard screams?” His voice is gentle, and I risk a glance up into his face. The concern and warmth I see there remind me of why I love him.
I breathe slowly. “I…I heard a scream, so I went to help whoever was in trouble. I wish I hadn’t, but I couldn’t know then…
“From the top of a hill, I witnessed the slavemaster kill-killing a visiting royal. It was the royal’s scream. He killed him—and then he saw me.
“I tried to run, but he caught and choked me. He said I could run away—leave Izyphor and swear never to tell anyone—or…” I shudder. My nightmare almost strangles me. All I can see is red. Blood. I squeeze my eyes shut. “Or he would kill you, Savi, Yori, and all of the Maraians while I watched.”
I squeeze my hands closed. “Afterward, I realized there was no way he could actually kill all of our people; he doesn’t have the authority to do that. But he could have harmed you.”
Quiet ensues. I haven’t the strength to say anything else. The effort it took to relive the past sapped my strength, and the slavemaster’s threat weighs heavily on my spirit. Father, I can’t carry this weight anymore. I am so tired.
“So you ran.” Elesekk’s voice is strained. I look up to find a tear dripping from his gray eyes. “Rai, my child.” His arms encompass me, pulling me close against the soft cotton of his tunic. “Forgive me,” he murmurs, his chin on the top of my head. “When I saw you w
ere alive, I was angry with you for the pain you caused my son when you left. Nihae convinced me to hear you out, and I see I was wrong.”
His mention of Savi brings sudden clarity. That must be why Savi has ignored me. I haven’t considered how my actions looked to him, but Savi must think I abandoned him. “Oh, Papa Elesekk,” I start, but then I’m fighting tears. “Please tell Savi.” I take Elesekk’s hand. “Please tell him I didn’t leave because of him.”
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I half-regret them. Surely that will not be helpful for Savi as he prepares to marry Maylani. I should focus on supporting their relationship, not repairing ours.
We can’t have a relationship anymore.
Nihae must sense my turmoil, for she says, “We will reassure him as soon as we may. But Rai, what happened after you ran?”
“I found my way here. Tatanda discovered me and took me into his family, even though he could have lost everything for sheltering a runaway slave. A plague struck the island about a year later. His wife and a young son died, and I almost did. And then last year Maylani went to stay in Izyphor, but I obviously couldn’t go with her.”
“Hæ-Aia that you survived,” Nihae thanks the Creator. I’ve grown unfamiliar with the Maraian expression, so I translate in my head: “Aia saves.” It is both a prayer for deliverance and a praise for faithfulness.
Elesekk frowns and touches an index finger to his lips. “Rai, have you ever…It’s been three years, after all, and you thought you’d never see your people again. Do you…I mean, is there anyone—I ask solely for my son’s sake.” My treacherous, sinful heart somersaults at the mention of Saviayr. “Have you ever, well, had an understanding—or feelings—with someone else?”
“No. I made a vow.”
“What about Maylani’s friend, Sandat? He couldn’t stop looking at you last night at dinner.”
Nihae answers for me. “Definitely not Sandat! Dear, he is a complete bore, a total bigot. Did you hear what he said when we were talking about yesterday’s battle?” Her grimace makes me laugh. “I have a different question.” She peers at me. Her eyes, the color of the sky, stare deep into mine. “You’ve been through a lot, that’s certain, but it doesn’t seem like enough to—Rai, what happened to change you so much?”