Child of the Kaites (The Firstborn's Legacy Book 1)

by Beth Wangler

  An indree falling must mean something big is coming. If Aia sent a star, it carries a vital, urgent message.

  The feeling that everything is about to change returns with a vengeance, but I can’t shake the sense that this change will affect the whole world.

  “Father,” I pray aloud, “please tell us what is happening.”

  There is a moment of silence, of listening. Saviayr breaks it. “Have you heard anything from the kaites recently?”

  I turn away from the house to hide my face. “You know I haven’t. Not since the day I met you. They said I never would again.” I inhale slowly. “Have you?”

  Savi makes a noise that I interpret as a yes. I look back to him.

  “When?”

  “Right after I met Maylani.” He sticks his hands in the waist-level pockets of his tunic. “A kaitairie. I thought she was telling me I should marry Maylani.”

  “What exactly did she say?” Saviayr and I both start and turn toward the fence. The speaker steps into the light and leans with his hands rested on the fence.

  Lev. What is he doing here?

  “I beg your pardon?” Saviayr responds, taking his hands out of his pockets. Savi adopts a loose defensive stance, as if expecting Lev to pose some danger and readying himself for the attack. Our encounter in the market today must have unsettled him.

  “What were the kaite’s exact words?” Lev repeats, pretending that Saviayr’s response was a request for clarification and not an expression of surprise at his sudden appearance.

  Saviayr moves forward to stand next to me. Up close, I see the frown on his face. “Why should I tell you? We only met today.”

  Lev laughs gently. “Ah, son, this is not about me. The wording of prophecies is important. Sometimes one can misinterpret and stray from Aia’s plan.”

  “It’s okay,” I tell Saviayr. At the last moment, I realize I’m reaching for him. I yank my hand back and curl my fingers.

  Savi is kind enough to pretend he didn’t notice.

  “We can trust him,” I rush on, thankful that the darkness hides my burning cheeks. Something in my spirit promises that Lev is good, even if I am increasingly uncertain that is even his real name.

  Savi crosses his arms over his chest. His frown deepens, but he answers, “She said, ‘Peace to you, Saviayr, son of your forefather Maraiah. Our Father has heard your cry.’”

  “Is that it?” Lev prompts.

  Saviayr shakes his head. “We had a conversation. I said, ‘I am His servant. What word do you have for me?’ Then the kaite said, ‘You are His. He has chosen you for a great purpose, but you will not accomplish it alone. Through Maylani the Iranine you will find your counterpart, who will walk beside you to victory. Without her you will fail.’ So I asked if she meant Maylani was supposed to be my wife, and she said, ‘You will not find your wife any other.’

  “Oh.” Savi’s frown dissolves into blankness. Understanding washes over both of us.

  “She could have meant Maylani would be your wife,” I say slowly. “Or she could have meant Mayli would be a tool for you to find the person you would marry.” I falter over the end.

  Oh. The prophecy probably refers to me.

  Lev watches us. Compassion clothes his face, but he chooses not to speak.

  When Saviayr speaks, he uses the voice in which he speaks promises, but it is devoid of hope. He sounds like his heart is tired. “No. I will not abandon Maylani. I am bound by my word to marry her, and I will go through with it.” His shoulders are straight and tense, but his head bows.

  I don’t bring up that, long before Maylani, we were bound to each other by vows, too. I don’t need to say it. By Savi’s averted eyes, I know he is thinking the same thing.

  Savi tries to divert our attention by asking Lev, “Why did you come here?” Gone is his earlier mistrust.

  Lev answers, “The shooting star.”

  That’s right. How could I have so easily forgotten such a momentous occurrence?

  “Aia has heard His people’s cries,” Lev says. “He is ready to act with a mighty hand. It will not be long now. Raiballeon, do you believe your name?”

  Frustration takes over. “What does that even mean?” I stretch my hands out to this befuddling stranger, as if that could drag an answer from him.

  Lev looks disappointed and shakes his head. “No. That you must realize on your own.”

  “I’ve tried. I really don’t think I will.” I cross my arms. My jaw clenches. “Who are you, even?”

  “I told you. I’m—”

  “Oh, you’re Lev. That’s not a name, it’s an emotional state,” I argue. “What’s the name your parents gave you?”

  Lev’s frown deepens, transitioning from disappointment to restrained anger. “You already know my name. I will not speak it after all these years, not now.” His mouth is open to continue a rebuke, but he pauses. It’s almost like he’s listening, but neither Saviayr nor I have said a word. He closes his mouth with a curt nod and continues, “Now, I must go speak with my wife. Remember your names, Saviayr, Raiballeon, and decide what you will do with them. Peace to you.”

  I’m too petulant to return his blessing, but Saviayr does. Lev spins on his heel and strides off into the night, talking to himself. I only catch a couple syllables, but it almost sounds like he’s speaking the tongue of the kaites. If so, the only words I make out are “stubborn granddaughter,” which makes no sense coming from such a young man. I’m even surprised that he’s married.

  “What was that about?” Saviayr asks.

  I shrug and hug my arms to myself. Lev’s questioning discomforts me. I’m not sure why, but I’d rather ignore everything he has said.

  “Well,” Savi says when I don’t respond. In the quiet, neither of us dare look each other in the eyes. I don’t know how to move forward after the revelations in our conversation with Lev, and apparently neither does Saviayr.

  After a moment, I begin searching for an excuse to escape and remember that Pitka is waiting for me. “I…Pitka’s in—in her…I should go,” I mumble without looking at Saviayr.

  “Rai, wait.” The urgency in his voice grabs me. I glance back from the porch.

  A line creases the dip between Savi’s eyebrows. “Dad just told me what happened with the slavemaster, why you ran away. I’m sorry—” he hesitates— “for assuming the worst, for not just asking you right away.”

  Combined with everything else, it’s too much. I really need to cry.

  Instead, I nod, force down the weight in my chest, and flee to Pitka.

  Aside from the bright front room, only a few candles light the rest of the house. No one but the servants has been home since before sunset. I flee by the dim light from the man I must learn not to love, from what could have been if he’d interpreted the kaite’s prophecy differently.

  In her room, Pitka is cupping water from her washbasin and watching it drip between her fingers. “Pipit, why aren’t you in bed?” Her fascination with the water lightens my frustration and stress.

  Pitka jumps, almost knocking the bowl to the floor. We tense, watching it rock, and sigh in relief when it settles.

  “You scared me!” Pitka squeaks. “I was waiting for you, but I didn’t hear you.” She gives a sheepish smile, drying her hands on the clean white towel beside the basin.

  “Well, let’s get you to bed now.” I hold my hands out to her. Even though she’s getting too big, I pick her up and twirl her around once. Pitka’s feet fly out behind her in the air, and I drop her onto her mattress like I used to when she was younger.

  She shrieks. “This is my favorite thing!”

  I groan and hunch over, rubbing my back. “Oh, but you’re getting too heavy for my old back,” I complain.

  “Did I hurt you?” Pitka worries.

  I chuckle and straighten up. “Not yet. Now, lay down, and I’ll sing you your lullaby.”

  While she obeys, my mind wanders to the future. What lies ahead for my sweet Pipit? She is growing up faste
r than I can comprehend. The past three years with her are suddenly precious, but a heavy sense of foreboding clouds my chest. Danger and changes lie ahead for all of us, I sense. How will they affect her? A shooting star can change everything.

  So when she nestles into her pillows, I sing the lullaby Maraian mothers sing to their newborn babies before they bid them farewell:

  This river’s mouth is open—

  Soft currents draw you to the fall

  Where your breath will be stolen,

  But the water’s mighty source won’t let you die.

  The weeds far from the shore there

  Are reaching out their arms for you.

  Their rest will make you starve, dear.

  Aia will bind their arms and guide you by.

  The evil winds may toss you,

  Their breath spin your basket around.

  Whatever storm you go through,

  The Creator keeps you warm and keeps you dry.

  At night, the creatures wild

  Come out and search the banks for food.

  They’ll never find you, child.

  The Father of all life will close their eyes.

  When you feel lost or frightened,

  When danger lurks at every turn,

  One thing can leave you lightened:

  The One who holds Orrock is by your side.

  By the song’s end, Pitka’s eyes droop shut. I kiss the dark curls on the top of her head and smooth the wispy strands off of her forehead before leaving her to sleep.

  For hours, I lay awake in bed. Distance mutes the laughter and shouts from the bonfire by the time they float through my window. Neither the noise nor Ira’s humid heat distract me from today’s events.

  So Saviayr was meant to marry me.

  Then my jealousy is justified. Unfortunately, that doesn’t make it right for me to keep loving him like this. If only the kaites would give more straightforward prophecies!

  The kaites aren’t the only ones giving cryptic messages recently. Actually, Lev’s vague warnings and incoherent references remind me a lot of the kaites.

  I bolt up in bed. A vital connection hovers just at the edge of my mind.

  Who is Lev? He looks young but is old. He seems to know more about my future than I do, but it’s not like he knows it by himself—he’s more of a messenger than a foreteller. He was instantly fond of Saviayr and me—why? Why did he have such a strong, instant hatred toward Sandat?

  Oh—Sandat had just insulted Maraiah when Lev began to treat him with spite.

  Savi and I, we are Maraians. Lev calls us “child,” as though he is our father, but he can’t be. I knew my birth parents.

  Who is he?

  The pieces click into place.

  I flop back on my bed, too shocked to think anymore. Then a grin slides over my face. “Aia-Thaies,” I whisper in prayer. “Really?” Is Lev really who I think?

  It feels right.

  Too giddy now to sleep, I push aside the thin sheet and go to the window. A hint of coolness in the barely-moving air refreshes my body and heart. Above the rest of the island and the shining surface of the ocean, the indree continue their slow dance around the two moons. Shadarass is up there, guarding the night. Even though my ears don’t register the sound I’ve heard my whole life, I know the stars are singing, calling humanity back to faithfulness to Aia-Thaies.

  My heart lifts. Yes, I may have little control over my life. What is happening now is far from what I desire. But chaos and disorder do not reign supreme.

  Aia has not abandoned us. Lev’s presence is proof of that.

  Chapter 9

  The next morning, with a headache already threatening, I pour over my finished scrolls, checking for anything to confirm or disprove my theory about Lev.

  Everything agrees. I know who Lev is, though I can hardly believe it.

  I close my desk and indulge in an unproductive rest on the swing. A cloak of haze hovers above Ira this morning. The rising sun burnishes the foggy sky in brilliant shades of gold that hide the ocean from view. More than usual, this lack of clarity in the air makes me feel trapped.

  Lev being here has to mean something. Something important is happening. I long to be part of it, not just trapped here in exile.

  Just as I begin to think of breakfast, Saviayr rounds the corner. He slows but continues approaching in an awkward, uncertain gait. At least the anger that has been constantly in his face since our reunion is gone. I breathe in relief.

  “Peace to you,” Savi says.

  “May it also return to you.” I should offer him a seat. The obvious seat is next to me on the swing, but such close proximity is not wise. I could leave him standing, be impolite. Or I could offer my desk chair, which is noticeably distant from the swing, though far less comfortable than my current seat.

  I settle on the chair, despite its shortcomings. “Sit?” I inject as little command as possible into my tone and gesture at the desk chair. Saviayr can stay standing if he wishes.

  He accepts the offer in a strained voice, stiffly lowering himself onto the chair. “Rai, I think we need to talk.”

  My heart squeezes. Fear and hope war with each other. As much as I want to clear up our misunderstandings, I’m not sure I’m ready for this conversation.

  Pitka’s “Good morning, Raiba!” and the breakfast bell provide a way out. I turn a smile and all my attention to my young cousin.

  After Tatanda blesses the meal, Maylani announces her plans to check on her dress and ask Big Akima’s family to cook for the wedding breakfast and after-ceremony feast. “Rai,” she adds, “we can stop by Sandat’s home so he can keep us company if you want. Nadina is busy.” I doubt the family caught her slight hesitation before the last word, but Saviayr glances at Mayli. So my cousin did take Saviayr’s annoyance with Nadina to heart, though she pretended not to.

  Saviayr can be annoyed by Nadina, but it is Maylani’s other friend with whom I have an issue. After all this time, she still hopes I’ll marry Sandat. My headache grows. I press my fingers to my temples. “I should stay home and make your bridal shawl,” I offer as an excuse she will not question.

  “Oh, yes! Do you think you’ll have it done in time?” Maylani worries.

  Anik snorts. “You’ve been gone too long, sis. This is Raiba. Give her an hour, and she’ll crochet a blanket around the whole island.”

  I duck my head at his praise, barely able to contain a grin.

  “That is quite an exaggeration,” Tatanda remarks. “A good man’s speech is precise.”

  Anik’s shoulders stiffen. “Yes, Tatanda, but my point was that it shouldn’t even cross Mayli’s mind that our cousin could fail her.”

  “That wasn’t what I meant,” Maylani protests. She crosses her arms in a pout.

  Anik relaxes, and his usual mischievous grin returns to his face. “Yeah, yeah. But why don’t I take Raiba’s place? I could use some time to catch up with my sister and get to know my future brother.” Anik wiggles an eyebrow and winks at Pitka, who giggles at being taken into his not-so-secret confidence. That wink is a sure sign that he plans to embarrass Maylani, but after all these years she still hasn’t learned.

  “Okay. But no flirting with my friends!”

  Anik opens his mouth and eyes wide. “Do I ever?”

  Mayli rolls her eyes toward the ceiling and shakes her head. “All the time.”

  Crocheting only buys me solitude, except for Pitka’s company, until the noon meal. “We have to show you Crazy Tolak!” Maylani tells Saviayr. “We” includes Maylani, Anik, Sandat, and Nadina, who seems oblivious to Maylani’s earlier exclusion of her from their party. “It’s our island’s most interesting thing. Raiba’ll come this time. She loves it there.”

  Apparently, “we” also includes me.

  “Mayli, I think that’s an exaggeration,” I protest.

  “Nonsense.” Mayli links her arm through mine and nearly drags me out the door. “You’re just being shy.”

  Despite
my best attempts to escape, I find myself looking over a cliff at one of the island’s sheltered bays. The pounding of an ax reaches our ears, mixing with the gentle rhythm of waves crashing on the far side of a narrow peninsula. Savi whistles. We all watch his eyes stretch wide as he takes in the evidence of Tolak’s insanity. “That’s a lot of boats.” Beneath us, at least a hundred empty vessels rock in neatly-moored rows.

  The native Iranines grin, and Nadina giggles. Anik sweeps his arms at the scene below us. “Behold the life work of Crazy Tolak.”

  Clouds are gathering overhead. I sniff. It’s faint, but I think I catch a whiff of the wild tang of kaite warfare. The back of my neck prickles.

  “Come on! Let’s go down.” Maylani leads us down the steep path cut into the side of the hill, dragging Saviayr by the hand.

  I follow at the rear. Then, too fast for me to react, thunder cracks. A greasewood bush lurches from the side of the path to directly before my feet. The hard, prickly branches grab my ankles.

  I pitch forward.

  Nadina screams.

  The edge of the cliff opens beneath me, a yawning mouth ready to devour. I grab, but my hands close on empty air.

  I start to drop.

  The air thickens, slowing my fall. A hand grabs my wrist. I tear my eyes from the empty air into Saviayr’s wide green eyes.

  He tugs. I’m back on the path. Savi’s arms wrap around me, thick ropes keeping me from destruction. His chest is sturdy under my hand, his arms stronger than when we were children.

  The afternoon light catches the threads of brown and gold in the depths of Savi’s eyes, setting them sparking. Hints of stubble darken his chin. His lips part.

  Is his heart racing as fast as mine?

  “That bush,” Sandat stutters.

  His voice jolts me back to the present. I flinch back from Savi, who mirrors my action. Anik’s hand on my back keeps me from stumbling.

  “It just moved!” Sandat points.

  Hardly a moment has passed. My heart still races, but now I remember: It’s racing from the near-fall, not nearness to Saviayr.