Lintang and the Brightest Star

by Tamara Moss

  She spoke as someone who was used to getting her way. Sure enough, the two hurried off without arguing, Teacher Hixam out of the temple, Elder Wulan up the stone steps. As soon as they were gone, Governor Jani turned to Lintang, Pelita and Bayani.

  ‘Now, you three,’ she said severely.

  Lintang tensed, ready for a scolding, ready for a fight, ready for anything.

  But Governor Jani’s face creased, and her tone turned soft and urgent. ‘Tell me – where in the world is my son?’

  WANTED ALIVE FOR QUESTIONING: CAPTAIN KONA OF ZAIBEN

  Last seen chasing two children in the Shi Alna trading markets. Suspected of kidnapping and treason. Charged with desertion of the UR Navy during captaincy of the ship Glory. Perpetrator is of Caletromian descent – watch for change of skin and hair colour in different lighting. Report any information to local vigil immediately. Reward offered.

  Lintang returned the metal sheet to Governor Jani, who tucked it back into the inner pocket of her coat. Bayani gave Lintang a grim look. They’d seen the dispatch many times since returning from Allay.

  It had all gone wrong. Captain Shafira’s careful plans to fetch Lintang regularly from Desa were ruined because Lintang had made the wrong choice. She’d run from Captain Kona in public when she should’ve realised he was trying to help. Now he was a fugitive, no longer able to bring Lintang to the Winda.

  Governor Jani eyed Lintang and Pelita. ‘I’ve done my research. You were the two girls he was chasing. What happened? Where did he go?’

  Pelita made a whooshing sound and spun in circles. Governor Jani frowned. She didn’t understand it was Pelita’s way of explaining that Captain Kona had turned into a Caletromian fey that could control the air. He had followed them secretly to Allay and protected them, unknown by anyone until almost the end of their trip, when they’d medicated him.

  Lintang, Bayani and Pelita had returned to Shi Alna with a story all ready, but Captain Kona had seen the Wanted dispatches and been forced to flee before he could be arrested, leaving Lintang to come up with a story on the spot. Lintang was normally an excellent storyteller. She’d tried to create an elaborate tale tinged with truth, about how Captain Kona had turned into a mythie and kidnapped them in his fey form, but there had been too many witnesses, too many contradictions. And how could she explain Bayani’s presence, when he had vanished from the Twin Islands long before Lintang and Pelita left?

  No one believed them. The rest of the world thought Captain Kona was a kidnapper.

  Except, it seemed, his mother.

  ‘I just want to hear the story from your own mouths,’ Governor Jani said. ‘I want to know why he left, and where he’s gone.’

  Lintang and Bayani couldn’t look at each other. Pelita was still spinning.

  ‘He’s safe,’ Lintang said at last, and it was the truth. He had returned to Captain Shafira. Nowhere was safer than on the Winda.

  She was hoping Governor Jani would be satisfied, but –

  ‘Why did he do it? Where did he go?’ Governor Jani hesitated and touched the pendant of her necklace. It was a dark green gemstone with clouds of red, so shiny Lintang could see parts of the temple reflected in it. ‘He hasn’t betrayed the United Regions. Has he?’

  Neither Lintang nor Bayani answered.

  Governor Jani drew herself up. Her voice returned to its sharp tone. ‘Right, then perhaps it’s time to talk about school.’

  ‘You can’t make us go,’ Lintang said. She’d had this argument with many Vierzans since returning to Desa.

  ‘It’s against United Regions law for children under seventeen to leave school.’

  Lintang scrunched her lips together to stop herself saying what she really wanted. She hated when Vierzans called her a child. She preferred the term mahpyalo, which in the country of Allay meant new eyes. In fact, the Zulttania, ruler of Allay, had made Lintang the mahpyalo member of her royal counsel specifically so that Lintang could bring an outsider’s perspective to her ruling. Being called a child was an outright insult.

  ‘And do you know,’ Governor Jani continued, ‘what happens to people who break the law?’

  ‘Yes,’ Bayani said quietly. ‘Malakai Mountain.’

  ‘Exactly. Are you sure you want to spend six months as a prisoner in a tunnel, digging for gemstones?’

  Pelita stopped spinning, staggered, then fell to a heap on the stone floor. Lintang and Bayani remained silent … at first.

  Then out of nowhere, Bayani said, ‘You should come to the performance tonight.’

  Governor Jani eyed him suspiciously. ‘What performance?’

  ‘She wouldn’t like it,’ Lintang said, speaking so fast her words ran into each other.

  ‘Nonsense,’ Bayani said. To Governor Jani, he added, ‘Just be in the village centre after the last light has gone. I’ll show you where to go.’ Then he added, with a peculiar smile, ‘Trust me. You’ll love it.’

  What was Bayani thinking, inviting Governor Jani to the performance?

  Lintang stomped through the village centre as the sun began to set over the Twin Islands. Desa was full of construction – great metal scaffolding around new buildings, a crane in the process of lifting an enormous timepiece onto the schoolhouse, stone slabs now paving the old dirt paths. There was singing from the inn, but the words were in Vierse rather than their native language, Toli. Near the stables, a cage with thin wooden bars held Desa’s newest spectacle: whisperers.

  They were thick streams of air that shimmered in pale sunset colours when the light hit them. Whisperers were finally able to be used in the Twin Islands, now the sea guardian wasn’t here to swallow them when they entered her territory. By speaking a message, then the recipient’s name, Islanders could communicate with people around the world.

  The villagers had been excited to have a try, and the Vierzans had let them send messages to each other. To Lintang’s delight, it only worked if they said ‘of Desa’ rather than ‘of Sundriya’.

  She hadn’t sent a message herself, but later a whisperer had come to her house while she was chopping potatoes, swirled around her head, and, as clear as if the ex-pixie had been standing next to her, Lintang heard Pelita’s voice say, ‘Vierzans are poo-heads!’

  Lintang had laughed so hard she’d almost chopped her finger off.

  Today she passed the whisperers twisting and curling in their cage with barely a second glance and went down the hill towards home. The crops in the fields were green and straight, firm and bright. The harvest would be good this year, which was just as well, considering the village population had tripled in size since last planting season. From the rainforest came the ragged sound of saws and the crash of falling trees. One whole region was already full of pale brown stumps. Both timber and space were needed to build homes for the influx of Vierzans who wanted to live ‘a calmer life’.

  Lintang’s wooden house sat halfway down the hill, on tall stilts that allowed them to look out over the lagoon from their front porch. She headed up the steps, mentally preparing what to say to Mother about the governor when –

  ‘Look at the state of your shisea!’

  Lintang winced as Mother batted dust from her wraparound dress as soon as she walked through the door.

  ‘Sorry. There was a mythie.’

  ‘Always an excuse, Lintang! You lost the first beautiful shisea I gave you. Are you trying to destroy this one as well? Why do I even bother?’

  ‘I’m sorry. Mother – Mother, stop.’ Lintang grabbed Mother’s hands. ‘I have something to tell you.’

  Mother glared at her. There seemed to be more lines around her eyes than usual. And were there always that many grey streaks in her hair?

  ‘Take your shisea off,’ Mother said. ‘I’ll have to wash it. Again.’

  ‘A governor’s come to Desa,’ Lintang said, unwrapping the complicated knots and ties of her dress. ‘She said I have to go back to school.’

  ‘Pah.’ Mother waved a dismissive hand. At first, she had been ha
ppy, almost excited that the Vierzans were here, but now their presence was more of an inconvenience than a thrill. ‘Mratzi’s festival is coming up. We need to offer a roast for the community table. Who’s going to help me with the chiluta bread if you’re at school all day?’

  ‘Mother, I think we have to listen to them this time. They’re threatening to send anyone who doesn’t go to school to the mines.’

  Mother flinched. Her brother had worked at the mines before Malakai Mountain became a prison and he’d been forced to leave Desa to find other work.

  ‘It’s all nonsense,’ she said. ‘They’re only trying to scare you. Now hurry up, I wanted to make fish wraps before the performance.’

  Mother headed to the larder and gathered several hanging panna leaves, a sprig of dried lavender and a pinch of flour from a clay pot while Lintang changed into a sarong. They had been making Mother’s secret-recipe fish wraps together ever since Lintang had returned from her last trip. They’d fallen into an efficient rhythm now. Lintang took down Father’s morning fish haul, which had been smoked and strung up over the chopping bench. The catch was smaller than usual. It had been ever since the Vierzans had started their own fishing businesses.

  She and Mother worked side by side. They spread out the panna leaves. Sprinkled them with flour and lavender buds. Ground various seeds and powders to make a paste. Scaled and filleted the fish. Laid the ingredients carefully across the panna leaves. Not too much paste, plenty of fish.

  The sun began to sink, and Mother rolled down the shutter on the household merry light. The white crystals were used all over Vierz. Once cracked, they glowed for many years. They were quite expensive, but Lintang had earned lots of gemstones when Captain Kona had hired her for the Vierzan navy.

  She was rolling the panna leaves into parcels when Mother said quietly, ‘You belong here.’

  Lintang glanced at her. Mother was talking about not wanting Lintang to go back to school, but she was right in another way too. Lintang was taking part in an apprenticeship that had been passed down through generations. Feeding the community, keeping their small house clean, was a job many of her ancestors had done. Desa was part of who she was. And when she left to travel, sometimes she missed home so much it was like a physical pain. She missed the sounds of the rainforest, the hot sticky nights, the sweat as she danced by the festival bonfires, the dusty smell of the village centre. She loved Desa. At least, she loved what it used to be.

  But this wasn’t the only place she belonged. Because when she was here, she missed the sea. She wanted to hear the creak of the Winda. She wanted to huddle in her hammock when they sailed into the cold. She longed for the shiing of blades as she trained with Xiang the weapons master, and to smell the spicy euco oil rubbed on the timber. She missed the thrill when she took that first step onto the land of a different country.

  It was hard having two homes.

  ‘Oh, look!’ Mother stopped rolling her leaf to stare out at the twilight. ‘It’s late. You have to go!’

  Lintang hadn’t realised how much the light had faded. She tried to finish her wrap, but Mother bustled her away saying, ‘I’ll do that, just go – I’ll meet you up there!’ and Lintang was dashing out the door, only to come back to grab her sword.

  ‘Wait,’ Mother said before Lintang could leave again. She appraised Lintang like she was a prime cut of meat from the market square. Then she smiled, and there was something akin to pride in her expression, but it quickly disappeared as she ushered Lintang out the door. ‘Go, go, go!’

  Lintang went.

  The village was completely empty when Lintang arrived. Merry lights on building walls had been unshuttered, casting strange white glows in the darkness. Lintang slowed to a walk. How late was she? She strained to hear any hint of sound over her panting.

  The silence was eerie. She was used to the chatter of people, the bleat of goats, the slam of doors and the crunch of feet on the dirt path. Now her woven shoes made no noise on the paving stones. There wasn’t even the tired cluck of a roosting chicken.

  She held her sword aloft as she crept through the centre square. The giant timepiece had been settled on the schoolhouse now, sand shushing through its glass neck. A metal pole from the construction scaffolding creaked in the same ocean-scented wind that tugged at Lintang’s hair.

  ‘You’re late.’ A vigil stepped out from the shadows of the inn’s doorway. He was a burly man, nicknamed Bear after some big creature in the Vierz wildlands.

  He had a sword too.

  Lintang stopped to face him, her senses heightened in case there were other vigil around.

  ‘Bear,’ she said, keeping her voice light. ‘Had a little trouble luring out a gnome today, did you?’

  ‘Heard it ended up being quite a handful, anyway. Was happy to let you deal with it.’

  ‘I appreciate the show of support.’

  Lintang wandered towards him, slowly, casually. He wandered towards her too, swinging his sword like he was going for a stroll.

  There was the slightest scuff of boots on the ground behind her. She pressed her lips tight against a grin. So predictable. They always tried to distract her from the front and come at her from behind.

  She heard the near-silent whip of air and spun to block a blow to her head. Both swords met with the resounding clack of wood on wood.

  A roar went up around them. The villagers sitting on roofs and balconies were quiet no longer. They were finally getting the performance they’d come for.

  Lintang was now fighting with Maxie of Manse, a woman with a thin rope of hair and the thickest eyebrows Lintang had ever seen. Maxie was only new to the island, but she must’ve heard enough about Lintang to at least take part in the play fight. Except …

  ‘Stop going easy on me!’

  Maxie grunted in response.

  Both Maxie and Bear came at Lintang in synchronised attacks; one would swing, then turn, then parry, and the other would do the same. Lintang kept her attention on Maxie. Bear made such bellows and thumps it was easy for her to hear him coming and get out of the way in time.

  Fighting the vigil had been difficult, at least until Lintang figured out their routine. The vigil had been trained using a particular combat style from Vierz, so Lintang could anticipate their movements. And because she had learned under different circumstances, they had no idea how she would react.

  Lintang had once asked Xiang the weapons master where she’d studied.

  ‘I’ve had a strange upbringing,’ Xiang had said, then giggled as she disarmed Lintang with a simple dip of her sword.

  Lintang hadn’t realised how intense her training had been on the Winda. Xiang had started her immediately with real swords. She hadn’t given Lintang time to rest, or to think. She’d forced Lintang to learn fast or be beaten soundly.

  Eire, the first mate, had taught her harsh endurance training, which meant Lintang had a combination of moves and strength no Vierzan had seen before.

  And she had fought a battle – a real battle – against Allay soldiers who had no reason to hold back. They would’ve killed Lintang that night if they’d had the chance.

  This, with the hesitancy of the vigil, using wooden swords that Camelia the woodcutter had carved for them, was child’s play.

  She disarmed Bear and Maxie, still certain they were being too lenient on her, and charged across the square as four more vigil raced out from the shadows.

  Sweat matted her hair to the back of her neck and soaked through her sarong. She, unlike the vigil, didn’t hold back. She ducked and swirled among them, always aware of where each of her opponents were, always one step ahead of them. Her foot landed square in Nandi of Belvediere’s chest and he staggered back with a surprised ‘oof!’ She rolled her eyes and spun to Maxie, who had collected her sword to try again. One day, they might realise Lintang didn’t need them to go easy on her.

  Pelita’s voice lifted above the cheering. ‘THAT’S MY SISTER!’

  She wasn’t Lintang’s blood
sister, but Bayani’s parents hadn’t exactly embraced Pelita after she’d been placed with them through the Mythie Rehabilitation Programme, so Lintang had offered to be Pelita’s family instead.

  Mother was with Pelita at their usual spot on the schoolhouse balcony. She was handing out fish wraps to Father and Lintang’s little brother Nimuel while chatting to Elder Wulan. When Lintang scrambled up the metal lattice of the construction scaffolding, the adults looked a touch concerned, but cheered with the rest of the crowd. Nimuel almost fell off the balcony in his excitement. The villagers loved it when Lintang used her surroundings; when she was creative with her attacks. It was just like being on the rigging on the Winda, only easier because it didn’t bounce and sway, and she had no problem fending off several attackers at once.

  The wind shifted, and she caught the scent of the villager’s snacks – roasted nuts and pork crackling and smoked fish – and heard the sharp cry of Governor Jani. ‘Take her down, you fools! Take her down!’

  Lintang balanced her way to the end of the scaffolding, jumped across to a rope acting as a pulley and let it carry her back to the ground. The vigil on the construction site chose to climb back down carefully.

  That was the difference between Lintang and them. To the vigil, this was just a performance. To Lintang, it was life and death.

  She was learning their weaknesses. While Lei of Zaiben was skilled, he was old, and his knee gave him grief. Siana of Bonne was never prepared for a low swipe. Rodney of Roan was too busy making jokes to pay attention.

  No one knew Lintang was training to defeat them.

  She had just reached the height of the battle, herself against all ten vigil in the square, when there was a loud, piercing whistle. ‘Enough!’

  All vigil stopped immediately. Lintang kept her sword up, panting, as Governor Jani stood over them from the inn roof. The governor’s eyes were narrowed, and her pale features stood out from the rest of the audience. The sound from the crowd died when they realised the action had stopped.