by DAVID B. COE
Jynna sat with Etan atop the tallest of the low grassy hills that overlooked the plain and lakelands, gazing back eastward to where the ruins of Tivston still darkened the landscape. There was no smoke anymore, and the great flocks of crows and kites had moved on, leaving the bones of her family and friends and neighbors to dry and whiten in the harsh sunlight. Birds still circled over what remained of her home, but only a few, the sad unfortunates who had arrived too late for the feast.
Etan hadn't said much since that first day when T'Noth, T'Kaar, and S'Doryn found him with the others. None of the children had. Even Jynna spoke only occasionally, though she had been the first to meet the Fal'Borna, and had come to trust all three of the men who were caring for them now, even T'Kaar. She simply had little to say. Her thoughts were consumed with memories of her family, grief at the loss of all she had known and loved. When the men asked questions of her, she answered. When they asked her to speak on their behalf to the other children, she did as they requested. The rest of the time she kept to herself, or sat with Etan, saying nothing, but taking comfort from the mere fact that he was there, feeling the same things she was.
Vettala sat a short distance from them, also saying nothing, also looking to the east. She was three years younger than Jynna and Etan, and like them, she had come through that horrible night of disease and wanton magic without injury. She was a pretty girl, fine-featured with long silvery hair and deep golden eyes. Jynna remembered her having a nice smile and a loud bubbling laugh, but she had to trust all to her recollections, for Vettala hadn't made a sound in these eight days. She avoided all of them. Aside from those times when the children were forced to ride, sharing mounts with the Fal'Borna men, she didn't allow anyone to come near her. She ran away from the wounded children-Hey, the older boy who lost his hand to his father's shaping magic; Pelda and Sebbi, sisters burned on their faces and hands and chests by the fire that consumed their home. She refused even to look at the Fal'Borna.
But it seemed that she drew some comfort from having Jynna and Etan nearby. She followed them everywhere, keeping her distance, but also keeping them in sight. Under any other circumstance Jynna would have been annoyed by this; probably she would have tried to run away from the girl. In an odd way, though, she understood. Etan did, too. They made no effort to include her in their conversations or tell her where they were headed each time she started to follow them. But they let her follow, and they kept an eye on her, making certain that she came to no harm.
Jynna wasn't certain what the girl would do once they returned to Lowna and she found herself surrounded by the Fal'Borna. She wasn't even sure that Vettala understood that they would be headed to the city before this day was out. S'Doryn had tried to explain this much to all of them over the past several days, as they awaited the end of their isolation. Vettala, however, had given no indication that she cared or even understood.
Jynna was ashamed to admit it, but she had avoided the injured children as well. She didn't run from them, and when forced to be near them, she tried to be as kind as she could be. But she never chose to be with them. The truth was she felt sorry for them and guilty for having escaped injury. Had her father not sent her away, she might well have been burned or killed herself. None of the other children said anything of the sort to her, but they didn't have to. She knew it was true. So she kept her distance. She avoided T'Kaar as well. Though she trusted that he meant her no harm, she hadn't liked him from the beginning. While others in Lowna had been willing to believe her tale and accept her as one of their own when it became clear that she had lost her family, he continued to doubt her. She liked his younger brother, T'Noth, and S'Doryn, though she even tried to keep away from them at times. Both of them asked her questions constantly. Do you recall seeing anyone unusual in the market that day? Is there more you can tell us about the sickness that took your parents? What else do you remember?
I remember everything! she wanted to scream at them. I remember it all, and I just want to forget!
That was why she stayed with Etan. He didn't ask her anything. He didn't bear any scars from that night, at least none that she could see. He was just like her: sad and scared and desperate to think about anything other than their last day in Tivston.
If only they would let her.
"Here he comes again," Etan said softly, nodding toward the bottom of the hill.
S'Doryn was trudging up the slope, the morning sun at his back so that his shadow reached up the hill, darkening the golden grasses. She'd spotted him several moments before, and she merely nodded.
"He'll ask you more questions," Etan told her.
Jynna nodded at this as well.
"They have to let us live with them, right?" he said. "Even if we can't tell them anything?"
"They don't have to, but they will."
She was mostly certain of this. S'Doryn and T'Noth were too nice to leave them out here alone after all they'd been through. But she wasn't totally sure, which was why she tried to answer the questions as well as she could. Her father and brothers had spoken of the Fal'Borna; of how fierce they were in battle, and of how wary they remained of outsiders. She saw how T'Kaar looked at her still, and she knew this last was true. She remembered U'Selle, the a'laq from Lowna, and she wondered if the woman would welcome the Y'Qatt back to the village if Jynna didn't tell these men what they needed to know. U'Selle had seemed fair-minded, but as a'laq she could do nothing that might endanger her people. What if that included letting Jynna and the others stay with them?
"Try to remember, Jynna," Etan whispered as S'Doryn drew nearer. "It'll be better if you remember."
"I am trying," she shot back in a low voice.
They didn't have time for more.
"We've been looking for you," the Fal'Borna said, as he reached the top of the hill. He was slightly out of breath, and tiny beads of sweat covered his brow. His bright yellow eyes flicked toward Vettala. "For all three of you, actually. We'll be leaving soon, returning to Lowna."
"So you are taking us with you," Etan said.
S'Doryn frowned, though there was a bit of a smile on his lips. "Of course we are. You thought we'd leave you here?"
Etan shrugged and wouldn't look at him again. After several moments, the Fal'Borna glanced at Jynna, a question in his eyes.
"I haven't been able to answer your questions," she said. "We were afraid you were angry with us."
He shook his head and smiled, the kind smile she remembered from the first morning she met him. An instant later, though, his brow creased again. "No," he said. "We're not angry. If we thought you were keeping things from us on purpose, then maybe we'd be angry. But I don't think you're doing that."
"We're not."
"Tell me about the woman again," he said. "The Mettai." They'd been through this before. Then again, they'd been through everything at least two or three times, and the old woman was the only odd thing that Jynna could recall from that last day in Tivston.
"What do you want to know?" Jynna asked, her voice flat. "When you found her, she was doing magic. Isn't that right?"
"Yes. She was in a thicket of trees, with her baskets spread out around her."
"And do you know what she was doing to them?"
"I've told you. I know, but I can't say. I promised her."
"Jynna, there's a good chance that this woman is dead by now, killed by the same pestilence that took your family."
"What if she's not?"
"What if she's responsible for what happened to your village?" S'Doryn answered.
"She isn't."
"What if she lied to you, Jynna? What if none of what she told you about the magic she was doing was true?"
Jynna shook her head and opened her mouth to deny it, but then she stopped herself. Maybe S'Doryn was right. How much did she really know about the woman? Hadn't she been afraid of her at first? Hadn't she tried to run away?
"She was coloring her baskets," she finally said, her voice low. "Coloring them?"
&n
bsp; "Mettai baskets are supposed to be made by hand and dyed by hand, too. They're less valuable if they're colored by magic. But she had some new ones that she needed to color, and she hadn't brought her dyes with her."
"And that's what she was doing when you found her."
She nodded. "She made me swear that I wouldn't tell. And when I promised, she gave me another basket."
S'Doryn nodded slowly, but he was frowning still, as if deep in thought. "So she only had out a few of her baskets."
Jynna stared at him. "What?"
"Well, you make it sound as though she only needed to color a small number of baskets. The new ones, right? So if that's the case, she would have had out only those that needed coloring."
Jynna shook her head slowly. "She had all of them out." Her stomach felt queasy and her mouth had gone dry.
"You're certain?"
She nodded, feeling more ill by the moment. Had the woman lied to her? If she wasn't coloring the baskets, what was she really doing to them? "I helped her pack them up and carry them to the marketplace. She had all of them out, spread in a half circle."
"And you're certain she was really using magic on them."
"She'd cut herself. That's how they do it, right? They use their blood?" "Yes."
"She was doing magic, then." A tear rolled down her cheek and then another.
“Jynna-"
"It's my fault," she sobbed. "I should have run and found my father as soon as I saw her. That's what I started to do, but she called me back and I listened to her."
"We don't know anything for certain, not yet."
"But she lied to me!"
S'Doryn hesitated. "She may have, yes."
"She must have been doing something to those baskets. Why else would she lie? She put a curse on them or something. She made everyone sick."
"Not you," he said. "You say you handled the baskets?"
Jynna nodded, took a long breath, nodded again. Perhaps it wasn't her fault after all. "Yes, I helped her pack them, and she gave me two. One I gave to my teacher, the other I took home to my mother."
S'Doryn opened his hands and smiled. "Well, then it probably wasn't the baskets, right?"
"Right." She actually managed a smile, though it faded quickly. "But then why would she lie to me?"
"Most likely she colored all her baskets with magic, and didn't want you to know. You're right: They are more valuable when they're dyed by hand. She probably was afraid they'd fetch a lower price in the marketplace if you knew the truth."
Jynna nodded, feeling better. "Probably."
The smile remained on S'Doryn's face, although it began to seem forced. Jynna could tell that he had more questions for her, but after a few moments, he merely turned and started back down the hill.
"We'll be leaving soon," he said. "You should come down and make sure that you have all your things packed and ready to go. I want to be back in Lowna well before nightfall."
"All right," Jynna said. "We'll be down in a moment."
He nodded and continued down the slope.
She looked at Etan, only to find that he was watching her, a guarded look in his pale eyes.
"What?" she said.
"Do you really think it was your fault?"
"No. You heard S'Doryn. If it was the baskets I would have gotten sick."
"Maybe it wasn't the baskets. Maybe she did something else. My f-" He looked away. "People say that the Mettai are evil. That's why they do blood magic."
"It wasn't her!" Jynna said. But she had her doubts. The Mettai witch had been odd; Jynna had continued to think so even after the woman gave her the baskets and the beautiful flowers.
"It might have been."
"No! It wasn't!"
"Don't fight!"
They both looked behind them at the same time. Vettala was standing a short distance off, her fists clenched, her face looking pale in the sunlight.
Etan and Jynna exchanged glances.
"It's all right, Vettala," Jynna said.
"No, it's not! You can't fight!"
"Why not?" Etan asked.
"You'll make them mad, and they'll send us away, maybe back to the village. They won't take care of us and we'll be all alone again."
"No, they-"
Jynna laid a hand on Etan's arm to stop him.
"It's all right," she said. "We won't fight."
"Promise?"
She nodded. "Promise."
The little girl eyed them both a moment longer. Then she nodded once and started down the hill, following S'Doryn's footsteps. "Come on then," she said, without looking back. "We shouldn't keep them waiting, either."
S'Doryn was still pondering what he'd learned from the girl when he found T'Noth and T'Kaar.
"You look like you've lost something," T'Kaar said, as S'Doryn drew near to where they were sitting.
T'Noth laughed. "That happens as you get old. You'll have to be careful, brother," he added, with a sly look at T'Kaar. "It won't be long before you're misplacing things as well."
"What's wrong?" the older brother asked, ignoring the gibe. S'Doryn shook his head. "I'm not certain. It's probably nothing." "Probably," T'Kaar repeated.
"The girl told me a bit more about that old Mettai woman she saw in Tivston the day the pestilence struck."
T'Noth's expression sobered. "What about her?"
"Apparently she was using magic on all of her baskets."
"Didn't we know that already?"
"Yes."
The younger man raised an eyebrow.
"As I say, it's probably nothing. She told Jynna that she was using her magic to color just a few of the baskets. But she had all of them spread out around her."
"So she was coloring all of them. You've done enough trading in your day, S'Doryn. You know how much more a Mettai can get for baskets that are colored by hand."
"That's what Jynna and I decided."
The brothers shared a look.
"So, then there's more?" T'Noth asked.
"No. That's it. I know it makes no sense, but something about that woman bothers me. I can't help thinking that she did something else to those people, aside from whatever it was that she did to those baskets."
"But if Jynna-"
"I know. She spent more time with the woman than anyone. She should have gotten sick, too. But then again, all our survivors are children. Maybe whatever the woman did had no effect on Jynna because she was too young."
The two brothers appeared to consider this for several moments.
Finally, T'Kaar stood. "I'm going to check on the others," he said, walking away. "I'll make certain they're ready for the ride back."
S'Doryn nodded and watched him walk away. T'Kaar could be difficult at times, but he was a good man. He'd spent hours with the wounded children, healing their injuries and comforting them in their grief. S'Doryn had been reluctant to let the man accompany them on this journey, but he was glad now that T'Kaar had come along.
"Why would she do it?"
He looked over at T'Noth. "What?"
"Assuming for a moment that the Mettai woman was somehow responsible for what happened, why would she have done it? Do the Mettai hate Qirsi that much? Do they hate the Y'Qatt?"
"Truly, my friend, I don't know. I've never heard of any feud between Qirsi and Mettai. More to the point, I don't know how she might have done it. I know little about blood magic and Mettai spells."
"S'Doryn!"
He turned. T'Kaar was already walking back in their direction, his strides long and purposeful.
"What is it?"
"All three children recall seeing baskets in their homes the day their families fell ill. And two of them remember seeing at least one of their parents speaking with the woman in the marketplace."
S'Doryn felt himself grow cold. "Demons and fire."
"It could mean nothing," T'Noth said, though judging from the young man's expression, it seemed he didn't believe this any more than S'Doryn did.
"What do w
e do?" T'Kaar asked.
S'Doryn started toward the horses. "We ride home, speak to U'Selle and the clan council of what we've learned."
The brothers said nothing, but when S'Doryn glanced back, T'Noth was just behind him, and T'Kaar was on his way to the injured children. S'Doryn called for Jynna, Etan, and Vettala, and in less than an hour, everything was packed and tied to the horses, and all of them were ready to go.
The ride back to Lowna took less than half a day, and upon reaching the village, S'Doryn and the two brothers carried the wounded children to the healers for further care. N'Tevva was there to greet them, as was T'Kaar's wife and child. S'Doryn would have liked to take N'Tevva home and to bed-eight days was too long to be away from her. But it was a measure of how concerned he was about this Mettai witch wandering the land that he merely kissed her and asked her to follow as he led Jynna, Etan, and their little shadow to the a'laq's home. U'Selle was waiting for them in an old weathered chair outside her house. She was taken by a fit of coughing as they approached, and for some time after they stopped before her, she was unable to speak. Eventually, though, the paroxysm ran its course, and the a'laq managed a wan smile.
"You survived, I see."
S'Doryn grinned. "Yes, A'Laq."
"That's nearly more than I can say for myself." She turned to Jynna. "It seems you're one of us now."
The girl bowed. "Yes, A'Laq."
"You're welcome here, but I am sorry. I had hoped that you might find that your family had survived." She eyed the other two children before meeting S'Doryn's gaze again. "You did find survivors."
"Not many-not nearly enough-and all were children."
She pressed her lips thin for just a moment, but then made herself smile again. "And fine children they appear to be. What's your name, boy?" "Etan, A'Laq."
"Welcome, Etan. Are you prepared to become one of us, to be a Fal'Borna warrior when you grow to manhood?"
The boy dropped his gaze. "I think so."
"Etan!" Jynna said.
But U'Selle smiled. "It's all right, Jynna. That's a good enough answer for now." She looked at Vettala, who shrank away from her gaze, hiding behind Jynna. "What's your name, girl?"
The little one said nothing.