The Well of Prayers

by Anne Boles Levy

  From the corner of my eye, I could make out Valeo gazing at the Gek as they scurried to lug the last of their canoes ashore. Just when I thought a calming silence had overtaken us, he cleared his throat.

  “You know, if you go over to their side, I have to kill you.” What an idiot, I thought. But I said, “Orders, I suppose,” with a sigh.

  He’d just get whatever eldritch power S’ami said I had and bring it back inside him—if the Gek let him get that far.

  “Yep.”

  “And if the Gek kill you?”

  “It’s war.” He shrugged. “Men die.”

  My stomach dropped inside me, and I swallowed back a sudden upsurge of bile. How could he be so blithe about his own death? I looked at him and pictured the arrow-riddled bodies of his comrades strewn across half my city. I’d run past their twisted limbs and pained faces, the unstaring eyes and bloody mouths. They cropped up in my head as I watched Valeo and his cool expression. Blood—I had seen a sea of it today, pooling along the cobblestones, forming a highway of dark bootprints along the wharf. I had run through others’ blood today.

  “How could you be so casual about this?” I asked.

  “There is nothing casual about the way I fight.” He kept his focus on the busy Gek.

  “You’re unarmed.”

  “I don’t need weapons to kill you.”

  “That’s reassuring.” I stared out at the Gek again. It was a better choice than continuing the conversation. I wasn’t going to melt into drippy puddles of tears in front of the Gek because the man who’d kissed me was threatening to kill me. The only answer was to act as if this sort of thing happened to me every day and force myself to let his ugly words slide past me.

  Besides, how did he know if I was going to change sides? How about my side? Maybe there was a third side in this. I did have a side—and it wasn’t the Temple’s or the Gek’s. But I wasn’t neutral, either. My fleeting insights weren’t congealing into actual plans, though. Some sort of breakthrough eluded me, even after all I’d been through. Was I a peace broker? An emissary? Was I looking for a different way to exile the Temple and restore harmony here? Bah. I couldn’t think on an empty stomach anyway.

  Fortunately, the Gek had a landing party meeting them, and a cluster of them scrambled up to us with reed baskets of food. I’d expected bugs and leeches and whatever else I’d seen Bugsy gobbling by our hearth, but the flat-woven platters contained fresh fruits and berries and dried fish. Valeo nodded gravely but took the food, as did I. They’d clearly expected us, or at least me, but whether they simply signaled ahead just before we got here or planned far in advance was impossible to gauge.

  We ate in silence. Valeo cleared his throat again. I winced. What now?

  “You shouldn’t have saved my life,” he said.

  “Well, I did. And I would again.” So there, I thought. I’m better than you. And you know it.

  “So, what is this thing inside you? That picks magic locks and breaks spell-shields and does … other stuff.”

  I glanced over to see him staring at me. He was no longer pretending to be fascinated by the Gek, who appeared to be mostly done with their chores and were congregating on the tops of the beached canoes. I made a point of ignoring the question. He wasn’t my mother—I didn’t owe him an explanation—and the less he knew, the better. Maybe he wanted my power for himself, as S’ami had. A sudden fear seized me. What if everyone, knowing about my power and how it was obtained, wanted it for themselves? What if, among humans and Feroxi, I would forever have to watch my back? Whom could I trust?

  Not Valeo, even. My power—whatever it was—was something he shouldn’t have. No one should have it, not even me, but I felt a sudden pang of possessiveness. I could undo magic. I could understand tongues. The fallen star had singled me out, and I was meant to be here, watching the Gek, fully assembled on their logs as though at an amphitheater watching jugglers and acrobats. Only I was center stage.

  What act did I need to perform, what role was I to take on?

  Peace broker. I settled on that idea because it crash-landed into my brain first and stuck there. I could get the Temple to go and restore things the way they were before the Azwans arrived. I could keep an eye out so that our island became what it was supposed to be—a singular place where magic and nature coexisted in an uneasy truce, far from the Temple’s ugly glare.

  Yes, that sounded like a plan, or at least a goal. And it sounded lofty, too—something I could look back on, if I could pull it off. I was beginning to believe I could accomplish pretty much anything, and on a moment’s notice, too. Who needed plans? I had a mash cat’s instinct for danger and a crane’s agility to soar above it all, didn’t I? And a big, strong guard by my side, if he didn’t kill me. I didn’t think he would. He would’ve done so already, wouldn’t he? So. Success was just a matter of us pooling our talents, such as they were.

  I finished congratulating myself and turned back to our hosts, who’d gathered on shore. They numbered about a thousand, far fewer than I’d imagined. Maybe that’s all that were left, or maybe the rest were out battling in my city.

  “I wonder what they’re doing,” I said.

  “Well, if you don’t know, then I sure as Nihil’s balls don’t know.”

  “Does your mother know you talk that way?”

  “My mother talks that way.”

  “It must be good to be queen.”

  “It has its benefits.”

  I was spared the agony of more barbs by a Gek chieftain, whom I recognized easily from his mighty crest, which stretched from roughly even with my shoulders to the top of my own head. It formed a natural crown and turned a vibrant crimson as he approached. The rest of him flushed to match.

  “Undoer, you light the stars on our path,” he said. “The sun itself bends its rays in your presence.”

  So they could speak figuratively. I hadn’t caught that before, even with their prayers. I’d only heard their language as having crude, literal meanings, one-dimensional and weak. I’d have to rethink that idea. It wouldn’t do to underestimate them, as fighters or as a people.

  “You must forgive me,” the chieftain said. “My nest-sister was our Shaman, and she was killed on the day of the Great Burning. We have none who may represent us to you, except for myself, if you find me acceptable.”

  With that, he bowed so that his crest pointed all the way down toward my navel.

  So he was Bugsy’s uncle, and I was sitting beside the man who’d killed his nest-sister. Once again, I felt the inadequacy of any word or signal I could give.

  I held up my hands and signed my gratitude and something about his skin being as radiant as any star. I left out the part about who’d killed the chieftain’s sister, but it did make me wonder where Bugsy would be. Was she here somewhere?

  I signaled my question to the chieftain.

  Pale blue streaks raced along his spine, a sign I took to be pleasure. Maybe I was getting good at this. Yes, he replied, she has been taken somewhere safe to rest.

  “Translate,” Valeo grumbled. “Please.”

  “They’re happy we’re here.”

  “You’re here,” he corrected.

  I signed again. Before I demanded to know why I’d been dragged here, I asked after the Gek people: if they’d built new homes in the untouched parts of the swamp, whether they were in good health overall. I was polite, in other words; the chieftain would’ve sniffed out any insincerity even if I couldn’t pull off the magnificent trick of changing my skin color with my mood.

  “The Undoer must see with her own eyes,” the chieftain replied. “You and your mate will follow.”

  My “mate” cast me a dirty look when I translated for him but picked himself up without complaint and held out a steadying hand for me, which I took. We followed the chieftain past the assembled Gek, who watched us with an unnerving silence, as unmoving as lizards in the midday sun, their stillness belying their unblinking gaze, which missed nothing. If I’d tripped or
shouted or made some other unexpected move, I half expected to see all thousand of them dart away, tongues flicking, skins a camouflaged green.

  A group of them went ahead and parted branches for us and the way was easier going than I had thought it’d be. We followed a well-worn path from the landing site inland, up toward a small volcano at the island’s heart. Mount Meridiana, it was called, because it lay at the dead center of Kuldor’s map. I wondered if the Gek would make us climb its steep sides, overgrown with jungle, steam rising in fat puffs from hidden vents. It wasn’t the lava-blasting kind of volcano, like those that could be seen on calm nights along the distant horizon. This one belched sulfurous steam that reeked like rotting eggs, but otherwise it kept quiet vigil above the surf.

  Without boots or sandals, Valeo had a harder time picking his way along the roots and rocks. The volcanic rock could cut like glass, and the state of his feet began to worry me. My sandals had miraculously survived my misadventures. I paused and ripped a long length of my skirt away. The Gek chieftain stopped to watch but said nothing. I ripped the material in several pieces. I gave them to Valeo, who was eyeing my bare calves. His face registered surprise.

  “You’d better wrap those slabs you call feet,” I said. “Or they’ll be hashmeat before long.”

  He did as he was told, but the flimsy covering looked like it wouldn’t hold him for long. He fell back in behind me, and I could sense he’d regained some of his confident bearing.

  “Thank you,” he grumbled.

  “I worry about worms or infections,” I said, by way of acknowledgment, but I was secretly pleased at his gratitude.

  “Not about my feet,” he said. “I meant the view of your legs. Usually, I’d have to pay to see that much flesh.”

  “You have no manners at all,” I said before I could stop myself. “I did that to help you.”

  He chuckled. “It’s helping, believe me, it is.”

  “This is serious. You could …”

  “I know.” His tone was suddenly grave. “Look, we both know only one of us is coming back from this little excursion of yours. If this is my last day, I want to enjoy a beautiful pair of legs.”

  I whirled around. “I would never let them harm you.”

  “And if I had to kill you?”

  “The Gek would never—”

  “They’re fast, but not strong. I’m stronger.” The stare he gave me was unreadable, part scorn, but part regret, too.

  “Just tell me why.”

  The Gek, hearing my irritated tone, pressed in close around us and a dozen javelin tips appeared at Valeo’s chest and back. Before he could say anything, I reached up and held a finger to his lips. I had to step on a boulder to reach his chin to plant a kiss, since he was still so much taller.

  The javelins and spears retreated. Mate, I signed again and the chieftain shrugged and turned to continue. I clambered down from the boulder and Valeo fell in behind me, his face registering both surprise and amusement.

  “I have the same troubles with my own mate,” the chieftain said over his shoulder. “It is not always nest-building and egg-laying. You must be there for the thunderstorms as well.”

  I could swear the chieftain cackled as he said this. Valeo just grunted when I translated for him. The sound of rushing water grew too loud for conversation. The trail widened and we came to a wide clearing along a gentle part of the slope with Gek huts built onto the ground instead of in the trees. A waterfall cascaded and vanished into a mist-shrouded basin. Steamy vapor enveloped us and I couldn’t tell which part of me was damp from steam or sweat. I tugged my hair into a loose knot, but it was a futile gesture against the humidity.

  Gek poured around us and formed a ring, leaving only the chieftain, myself, and Valeo at its center. They seated themselves in low-hanging branches or on hut rooftops, or squatted on rocks or logs. This was clearly our destination.

  The chieftain didn’t wait long. I was right in assuming he was the boss; his crest stood higher than anyone else’s, and his stature was upright and dignified. He reminded me, in his lizard-like way, of S’ami. Maybe all species had their self-important folks who put themselves at the middle of everything, carrying themselves with the same arrogant bearing.

  The chieftain held up one bony hand and the Gek ceased their nervous chittering and turned toward us three.

  “These are the salt baths,” the chieftain intoned. He raised his arms toward the falls. “These waters pour from the center of creation itself and bring with it sacred salt from the very core of our being.”

  And sulfur, too, from the smell of it, and likely many other minerals. I kept listening and translating. Valeo was instantly transfixed, but probably not out of any curiosity for the Gek. He had his own reasons for wanting to know what was being said; one or both of our lives would depend on it.

  The chieftain continued in his gravelly cackle, with even his clicks and snorts carrying an extra weightiness. “It is our sacred task to keep the salt bath from the Nothing Man, who twists all that is natural into what is not. It is why the lizards crossed the dark waters that separate this island from the larger lands beyond. We guard this place for all Lizardom, and for you drabskins, too, though you know it not.”

  Valeo nudged me. “What happens to this salt if Nihil gets to it?” Like me, he assumed there was only one Nothing Man.

  I bowed to the chieftain and signed as best I could with one hand. He nodded and continued.

  “The Nothing Man destroys all things at their core.”

  The Gek around us repeated the chant in unison. “… at their core.”

  “He changes the very nature of nature,” chanted the chieftain.

  “… of nature,” the crowd repeated.

  I was beginning to hate religion of all sorts. Even the Gek followed a priest who caught them all up in rituals and mindless chants and conformity, just like everyone else I knew. If the chieftain said chop down all the trees, I wondered if they would.

  Maybe they had burned their forest. Then again, Bugsy had been clear they hadn’t. I wondered if she was in this crowd somewhere, but there was no telling them apart any longer, except for the one chieftain.

  They had finished a few more chants along the lines of Nihil’s awfulness and the chieftain again turned to the waterfall.

  “The Nothing Man has turned these sacred waters against us,” he said. “And you must take them back, Undoer. Else all creation will be poisoned against Nature, and all that crawls or flies or runs or swims across its surface will cease.”

  The chieftain continued like this, explaining all the ways the sacred waters were despoiled, but I couldn’t be sure whether that was meant as some sort of religious metaphor, or if the waters were genuinely polluted somehow. I had an urgent curiosity to know, to see for myself, and to help them if I could.

  “Is that it?” Valeo said, after hearing the translation. His voice held more relief than incredulity. “He wants you to do your hibbity-jibbity unmagic over the water and then we can go? That’s great!”

  He thumped me on the back.

  “Get to it, woman. We can still get back in time for a proper supper.”

  25

  As close as eyelash to eye,

  As near as teeth to tongue,

  Unseeing, together lie,

  Lips joined in silent song.

  This hymn of loving

  Springs from solemn space

  Between being and becoming

  As two, as one, embrace.

  —from the song, “Between Us,” by anonymous

  Valeo’s thunderous approval aside, I couldn’t tackle much of anything without rest. As soon as I realized more or less what the Gek were asking, fatigue washed over me. I hadn’t slept since the previous night, and I’d already survived a battle, a swim, and a hike that day on a single meal. I couldn’t expect the Gek to look me up and down and know, as a human healer would, that I was worn and scared and soul-achingly weary. They couldn’t tell my moods except by scent, a
nd I probably smelled too much like sea water.

  The chieftain ambled closer to me and waved several other Gek toward us.

  “You will do as we ask?”

  I nodded, and then signaled my need for rest. I didn’t care if I had to sleep on a log; every part of me felt as if it would melt into the ground. Within moments, Valeo and I had been hustled into one of the huts, where we found straw mats on the ground and crude blankets that bore the telltale floral designs of human make. Mami and I must’ve traded these to them more than a year ago. I again wondered how far in advance they’d prepared for my arrival, then shrugged it off as mere coincidence.

  But it would be something to think about—when I woke up. I lay down, hoping for instant sleep. Valeo hovered in the doorway, inspecting the walls and ceiling for any camouflaged Gek. Satisfied we were alone, he stepped inside, positioned himself by the doorway and trained his watchful gaze on the Gek outside.

  The lull of the waterfall did its trick, and I woke much later in total darkness with a weight pinning me down and a droning buzz in my ear. Valeo snored beside me, and the weight was his arm draping across my middle. I shifted, one tiny finger-width at a time, gently, slowly so as not to wake him, until I had turned over to try and study Valeo’s face in the pitch-black. I wanted to memorize every sharp line and furrow, the scrap of stubble on his chin, the way his forehead protruded over his eyelids in that Feroxi way, and the dark smudge of brow. I could make out only dim shadows, though.

  My heartbeat matched the steady rhythm of his breathing, and I had to keep myself from finding and tracing his jawline with my finger. I’d stared at so many sailors and dockworkers, wondering what happened on a marriage night. Then I’d learned much more about sex in a purely clinical way from the healers. I knew what a man and a woman did together and had imagined it, or tried to.

  But this—this closeness. I hadn’t thought about that at all, my body next to his, absorbing his warmth, savoring my skin’s tingling. I thought of the song my father sometimes sang to Mami when he thought we girls were asleep.