Gitonga gave him a twisted smile. “Why do you persist in your experiments? Sail is the way of the future, Mugi. In time, sail will rule all the oceans, and the oceans will rule trade. If I can ensure fair winds for my ships and those of my loyal friends, together we will amass such riches . . . Wealth means power, my friend wizard. It is not war that will conquer the world, but trade.”
A low swell helped the canoe draw smoothly up to shore where it settled with a crunch, leaning lopsidedly on its outrigging. The guard holding Cloud’s chain tugged her toward it. She took several steps, but a scream began deep in the recesses of the body where Jata now lived. It built, and built, until it blocked out even the welcome song of the ocean, and Cloud herself wanted to scream. She found her feet rooted in the mud.
“She looks afraid, Mugi,” Gitonga commented.
“It can’t be afraid; it is a creature of the elements. It’s simply balking at doing what it’s told.” The wizard splashed through the shallow water toward Cloud, his purpose plainly written on his face.
“Stop it, Jata!” Cloud thought at the screamer. “Stop it! There is no hope underground. On the sea with sky above and touching wind we will find a way. We will!” The screaming subsided and Cloud was able to go where she was led.
“You see?” said Mugi looking back at Gitonga from where he stood knee deep in seawater. “Even the threat is enough. Tell your captain it will perform well.”
The wizard did not climb into the outrigger, but Gitonga the merchant did. The guard holding Cloud’s chain got in, pushed her to the floor and crouched behind her, watchful. Mugi had paid him well. One of the paddlers pushed them free of the pebbly sand and jumped in, then he and his fellow put their backs to their task.
The ship seemed no more strange to Cloud than any other not-of-nature thing had seemed. It sat tall in the water, its wooden hull creaking with the movement of the swell, its single mast reaching for the sky. It smelled of pitch and sun-baked sailors, and after being borne upon the waves by the outrigger, Cloud had a better idea of what it was for.
The sailors reached down strong arms and hauled her up, deposited her like cargo on the deck. Then the guard drew himself over the side and landed next to her. Gitonga came up last, and with little more ceremony.
The men of the ship inspected Cloud with more than curiosity. One spoke, one whose skin was a lighter shade of brown and whose words were oddly accented. “This is your secret weapon, Gitonga? This little girl? She looks more like something for our amusement on long voyages. If so, you of the Zenj coast are thoughtful indeed.”
“Watch your tongue, Kanja, or I will find myself another captain,” the merchant snapped angrily. “I will not excuse impertinence simply because you are from the outside.” Then he raised his voice so the whole crew could hear. “She is not what she seems and is not to be touched. Listen closely; I will explain only once.”
Cloud did not listen, for the guard had dragged her to the mast and was busy with the chain. He looped it around the bottom of the sturdy pole, where it went through the deck and disappeared below. For the first time she noticed that the link at the end he’d been holding was open. Hooking that link through a closed one, he took a tool he’d brought with him, and hammered it shut. She was secured. He pulled mightily at the new join to be sure, then stepped away.
Finished with his instructions, Gitonga approached Cloud as she huddled at the foot of the mast. For the first time he addressed her directly. “Well, my little Elemental, now we’ll find out if you are worth what I paid for you. Perform to my satisfaction, and you will be rewarded. Refuse your task and you will be punished.” He made a motion as if to remove the cloth buffer between skin and Cold Iron. Cloud cringed and he backed off, his point made.
She had expected Gitonga to stay. Instead, after exchanging a few more words with the one he called Kanja, he went over the side to the waiting canoe. Shortly she saw him climb out to stand with the wizard on shore.
The ship erupted in activity. Above Cloud’s head a huge triangle of heavy cloth was pulled up the mast from a crossbar—this was a sail. The wizard had told her about it, but she had been unable to understand until now. At last it came clear what they would ask of her.
Jata was keening deep inside the body where she lived, a steady soundless wail that spoke of fear so great it could not be adequately expressed. Cloud tried to comfort her to no avail; the girl was beyond knowing anything but that she was at sea, with no dry land to stand upon.
In air that was deathly still, the sail fluttered loosely. Kanja scowled at the limp cloth, then at the sky. He walked the length of the deck in cool, determined strides, and shaded his eyes with his hand, scanning the ocean as if searching for something. “By Manat,” he muttered, “this is a poor place for wind!” Cloud watched warily. Eventually he lowered his hand, turned, and came toward her.
He was big, this man. Bigger than the wizard Mugi, bigger than the merchant Gitonga. He towered over Cloud, staring down at her with open contempt. “So,” he said, and nudged her with his foot. “I’m told you can work weather. Prove it. Make the wind blow. Make it fill our sail and send us across the sea to the land of silks and spices.”
Cloud knew what the punishment would be should she not obey. She had also been promised reward if she did well. But how could they reward her? There was nothing of theirs she could possibly want, only her freedom. And that, no matter what she did, they would never give her. She must find a way to take it from them.
Kanja nudged her again and this time Cloud responded. She struggled to her feet, fighting the tether that dragged at her neck. The man did nothing to help her. On the shore, Mugi and Gitonga stood straighter to watch. Cloud lifted her arms and closed her eyes, feeling the sun against their lids. “I am Cloud Above Water,” she sent her silent message into the sky. “Who will play with me?”
At first it was only the gentlest of caresses as the wind acknowledged her presence. Little sister, it murmured, tasting the skin that confined her, weaving itself around her borrowed arms, her legs, her body, wisping over her rounded cheeks and full, red lips. Little sister, we will play. The wind breathed out in a great sigh, the sail billowed from the mast and filled. Ropes strained, the wooden hull screeched in complaint, and waves splashed laughing over the bow as the ship began to move.
In a babble of excited voices, sailors ran barefoot to their tasks. The captain stared in astonishment at the burgeoning sail before sprinting to the stern and his post at the great steering oar. On shore Mugi grinned and rubbed his hands together, more delighted with his achievement than with the payment he could now expect, and already planning his next capture. Gitonga nodded to himself cautiously. This time perhaps the wizard’s spell would work, but he would not inventory his return cargo until it was unloaded and arrayed at his feet. The two men watched as the ship headed toward the horizon at a speed that could never be matched by oars alone. They watched until the glare of sun on wave made them close their eyes and turn away.
Well beyond sight of any land, the long swells of mid-ocean produced an illusion of greater stability. Jata crept out of her hiding place, the need to find out what was happening finally greater than her fear. “Hello?” she ventured tentatively. “Hello, are you here?”
Cloud didn’t answer. She lay despondent on the hard planks under the mast. Wind had abandoned her, not understanding why she did not rise and soar. Water lapped at the hull of the boat, but did not climb over the bow to cool the body she wore. It no longer called to her, sister, sister. Only sun stayed with her, feeding her spirit, until now keeping a small hope alive. But she had been unable to free herself from the body, or the body from its Cold Iron leash, and she could not imagine how it might be done.
A shadow fell across her. Kanja. He pushed her with his foot. “What are you playing at?” he inquired roughly. “Get up.”
Cloud shook her head. “It will do no good,” she said softly.
“I will not sit here becalmed,” the captain insis
ted, and reaching down, he wrenched her to her feet. “Call up the wind,” he ordered. Anger radiated from him, hot and violent.
“Wind does not answer to any command,” she tried to explain. “It chooses its own course. Now it has chosen to go elsewhere because I could not fly with it.” She had tried to tell the wizard this could happen, but men like these seemed to recognize only obedience or disobedience. Kanja took her words for refusal. Cloud shrank against the mast, waiting for the punishment she knew must come. Quick as lightning he snatched away the cloth protecting her delicate skin from the Cold Iron collar. Fire! It burned! Cloud sank slowly to the deck and curled into a ball.
“Let’s see how long your defiance lasts,” said the captain, and walked away.
For the second time, Cloud wept. Before her entrapment, she had not known what weeping was.
“What is the matter?” Jata asked from somewhere not quite as deep as before. “Why are you crying?”
In her sorrow and pain Cloud had almost forgotten Jata, whose body she wore so bitterly. “I told you I would find a way to set us free, but it cannot be done. We are, as you have said, lost.” Instead of retreating in panic, the girl reached out in love and comfort. It was like being enfolded by a warm and gentle breeze. Cloud let herself be lulled, even though the fire of Cold Iron coursed through her still.
“What do you need to be free?” Jata asked her.
“I need to leave this body,” Cloud told her simply. “But I know of no way to do it. I thought that sun, wind, and water would help me, but they know no more than I. And they have no power over the Cold Iron that binds us to this ship.”
Jata pondered. “If you were free of this body, then the Cold Iron would not hold you,” she said.
“But there is no way to be free!” Cloud blurted in frustration.
“Except perhaps . . .” Jata began, and she did not need to finish.
Cloud grew still. This was something she had not considered. What would happen to her if Jata’s body no longer existed? What would happen to Jata?
“There is no other way, Cloud Above Water.” For the first time Jata called Cloud by her name. “Neither of us can live any longer like this.”
It was true. If Cloud was not released from this skin soon, she would surely go mad. “Are you not afraid?” she asked Jata, for the girl had been afraid always.
“Yes,” said Jata. “But I am more afraid of having to stay like this forever. Are you afraid, Cloud?”
“Yes,” said Cloud, “But I am more afraid of being trapped this way forever.” She felt as if someone took her hand.
“Then we will speak to the wind together,” Jata said.
With grim satisfaction Kanja watched the Elemental struggle to her feet again. He would withhold the cloth, he decided, until she had filled the sails. She lifted her arms to the sky and closed her eyes.
For a long time nothing happened, and the captain began to wonder if she was truly doing anything. Then a breeze ruffled his clothing, and the sail flapped loosely. He shouted orders to the men, and took the steering oar in hand. The sail billowed and filled, the ship took off across the water, waves leaping over its bow.
Kanja laughed to think that she had tried to thwart him, that little slip of a thing. But his laugh died in his throat as the wind built to a gale and the waves climbed higher. Then with a roar the blast changed direction. He fought to steer, but the oar snapped in his hands. Ropes tore loose as the wind shifted again. Men were shouting, crying out in dread, pointing. Kanja looked. A wall of water the size of a mountain bore down on his ship, and he suddenly understood. “Stop! Stop now!” he shouted, but his voice was drowned by the angry growl of the wave.
With a crack the mast shattered, sending splinters in all directions. Cloud and Jata held tight to each other as the deck ripped apart around them. Then for one brief moment, everything stood still, and the words whispered to Cloud by wind and water gave her hope.
Sister, little sister, we have come to play.
Crossing the Waters
by Ika Vanderkoeck
“So, you really think you can sail with the colonists’ ship and land wherever you wish?” Tiqa asked her brother, trying to sound calm. She was sitting cross-legged on their veranda, weaving the last strands of dyed sago vines together for her floor mat.
Having returned from the colonists’ camp, Aduka unlaced the strings of his slippers at the base of their house’s steps. He knew he had upset her, saw her anger through the rough manner in which she knotted the leaves. Raised some meters above the ground, the veranda with its delicate, vine-riddled bamboo rails seemed to cage his sister’s small frame.
“I don’t see why I shouldn’t,” he said as he climbed up the steps. “The Wayfarer is larger, stronger than any proas we have ever built. No force known to man will be able to break this ship apart.”
“Wonderful. They’ve made you arrogant too,” she scoffed. Mention of the carrack made her glance towards the beach. Their late father’s proa, the natives’ small vessel, stood there, untouched ever since the outsiders came to their island. The torn sail needed to be patched; the paddles their father had lovingly, patiently carved were long due for a replacement. But her brother had ignored these tasks in pursuit of the outsiders’ company.
He moved in a position that blocked her view of the beach before she could remind him of his responsibilities. “And what’s wrong with a little confidence? The outsiders are not going to hurt anyone. They just need someone to show them where the other islands are, for their maps! We’ll be safe from danger, sister.”
“The only danger I see is from them.” Tiqa swiveled her gaze back to the mat’s elaborate patterns and tugged the strands more viciously. “Their weapons frighten me, brother. We don’t know what kind of damage those guns and cannons could wreak.”
“Their weapons don’t matter! I’ve seen their navigation tools, their gears, their equipment,” Aduka said. “The outsiders are learned men, with knowledge that surpasses even our own!” When she gave no response, he nodded towards her handiwork. “You’re going to tear that thing apart.”
She tossed the mat aside and rose to her feet. Shafts of the hot tropical sun gilded her dark hair, revealed the elaborate patterns of her knee-length blouse. At sixteen and two years younger than he was, the young woman’s persistence was often difficult to deflect. “That’s not the point, brother. The islands the infidels—”
“Infidels?” Aduka repeated in surprise.
“Well, that’s what they are, aren’t they? They have no respect for our beliefs and culture, choosing instead to parade their religion as though ours is primitive, insignificant. The clans on the southern part of this archipelago have already been swayed by these outsiders’ faith.”
Aduka waved his hand as if he could brush the matter aside with a mere gesture. “But the outsiders have not done or said anything here—”
“Point is, the islands they want to reach are hallowed,” she argued. “The spirits and guardians that protect the islands won’t receive the heathens with open arms.”
“That is why they need me with them,” he said, more firmly this time.
“They’re using you.”
“Think of what they can offer in return! If we shun them, the knowledge, the wisdom they have will remain beyond our reach while everything around us changes and evolves! Their technology will bring our people forward and keep us at pace with the changes around us.”
Yet the ambitions of men knew no bounds—this he did not see. If these Varamithians, as they called themselves, could sail the world claiming other people’s lands as their own, there was no telling if any mortal barriers existed to stop them. Their guns and cannons may have protected them, yet these technologies were also a danger to those they conquered.
“I know you’re just trying to make things better for us.” Tiqa strained to keep her frustration bridled. “But those islands remain unclaimed for a reason. The outsiders neither understand our laws nor our ties w
ith the earth’s magic. There are spirits out there, nameless forces that will stop the outsiders and you before you could even come close enough to smell the islands’ soil.”
Aduka refused to bend. “That’s part of this journey’s charm. We are moving into a new era, Tiqa. The time we spent hiding behind our fear for the unknown is ending. The magic we weave is no longer enough to help us keep up with the rest of the world.”
“Mind your tone, brother,” she said, and her nuance changed drastically this time, ripe with venom. “The magic you’re insulting has aided our people for centuries.”
“For the Maker’s sake, woman! Will nothing I say convince you?”
“Aduka?” a third voice called out.
The intrusion made the siblings wince. For a moment, they stilled their argument to regard the in-bound foreigner instead. His distinctive pale skin and bright-colored eyes were an oddity where brown skin and dark eyes prevailed. The polished breastplate, ill-suited for the hot conditions and weather, gleamed under the afternoon sun. He looked ridiculous under his layers of clothing and was clearly suffering from them.
More heads turned. Curious and suspicious neighbors abandoned their gossiping to glance as the outsider strode past their houses. A crowd of noisy children followed him, heedless of their mothers’ shrill protests until a harsh shout from one of the village elders sent them scurrying back home.
Tiqa instinctively snatched her shawl from the floor to cover her head. For the women here, such gesture was necessary in the presence of a stranger to signify propriety. “Ugh, I can smell him already,” she quipped. “Does he ever bathe, or were they all born with that awful stench?”
“Stop exaggerating,” Aduka hissed. To the outsider just arrived at the base of their house, he grinned. “Captain Lopo, welcome, my friend.”
The foreign officer removed his polished helm and wiped the sweat streaming down his forehead. “Did I come at a bad time?” he asked in the native tongue.
Ages of Wonder Page 8