by Raye Wagner
I grimaced, remembering how Esi grumbled when I told her I’d let Ruin have all of it. “It was my fault.”
“That so?” The female turned her glare on me. “Then you won’t need more protein today since you’re all filled up.”
“I didn’t drink it,” I said. “I-I spilled it?”
“Are you asking or telling?”
I shrugged, not sure which was worse in her eyes. “Sorry.”
Apparently, plain rice and fruit was the consequence of not bringing the whey after making cheese. Even so, it was worth it for Ruin. At least I thought so. Esi didn’t agree.
We finished eating, and the “older” male I’d spotted yesterday got up and announced work groups and locations for each of the units. As soon as he was finished, Esi grabbed me.
“Let’s go,” she said, tugging on my arm. “The council needs to talk with you and decide if you can stay.”
Wait—“What?” I called after her as she stomped toward the older magî. Even though she couldn’t see, I glared at her retreating back, feeling betrayed, and said, “You said I could stay.”
By the time I caught up, Esi stood next to Rull. Another young male soon joined us, followed by Dostane and then several more magî. My anxiety spiked, and their faces became almost indistinguishable—four male and four female magî were going to decide my fate. What-ifs assailed me, and I tried to calm my wild pulse. Shifting my weight from foot to foot, I felt my hands prickled as my palms moistened with sweat.
“Relax,” Esi whispered next to me. “You’re hardly a threat. They’ll let you stay or I wouldn’t have invited you.”
I wanted to explain, but I couldn’t make sense of my own reaction.
Rull cleared his throat and jerked his head toward one of the tables. “Let’s talk over here.”
Esi slid into a seat and smiled up at me, patting the place next to her. I didn’t deserve their kindness—no. I forced the self-deprecating, insecure voice into a box and locked it away. Everyone deserved kindness—except psychopaths. They deserved justice, which would be a kindness to everyone else.
“Esi said she found you on the Little Rê,” Rull said, his eyes narrowed as he studied me. “Where are you from?”
I told them the same thing I’d told her yesterday. My story didn’t take very long because it wasn’t long. After I finished, Rull asked several follow up questions, but we circled right back to where we started. After the second time through the same queries—albeit in a different order—I cut him off.
“I’m not hiding anything from you,” I said, glancing to Esi as if she could confirm. “I said I don’t know because I don’t.”
“Fine. But if you do remember anything, you must let us know immediately,” Rull pressed, his dark eyes hardening.
“You can just tell Esi,” Dostane said, smiling at me as though her friendliness would make up for Rull. Or maybe she thought it would encourage me to remember. “If you tell Esi, she’ll keep us in the loop.”
“Sure,” I agreed with a shrug.
“And don’t do any magîk,” Rull added. “That’s the most important rule in Pûleêr. Hopefully, Esi already told you.”
I nodded just as someone grunted. I glanced down the row, trying to spot the dissenter.
The youngest of the males sat on the very end of their row, and he leaned over the table and stared at the magî on the opposite side of Rull and said, “What would you have us do, Delo? Throw her out of Pûleêr? Then the Serîk would get her for sure.”
“How do we know she’s not a spy?” the other magî snapped. He was younger than Rull, maybe in his late twenties, and his expression was fierce. “What if her magîk allows her to communicate with others and she brings the Serîk?”
I shook my head. “I already said I don’t know what my magîk is.”
“Then how do we know if you’re using it?” Delo snapped.
“Esi, you brought her, so you’ll have to remain with her until the council is in agreement,” Rull said, frustration oozing into his tone. He fixed my host with a hard gaze, everything about him reinforcing her responsibility for the problem I presented.
Only, I wasn’t going to be a problem. “I’ll work and do whatever I need to—”
“She’ll have to sleep in your home; you’ll have to work with her. If she’s always supervised”—he pursed his lips as he glanced first at Delo then the rest of the group—“will you be satisfied?”
The magî nodded, all except for Delo who glared at me.
“She doesn’t even know who Zädîsa is.” Delo stood and spread his glare around to the rest of the council, finally turning his bitterness back on me. “Or what she stood for. Why let her join the safety we’ve built?”
Zädîsa? I looked from magî to magî, trying to remember a zeta by that name, but my mind came up blank again.
“Because that’s exactly what Zädîsa stands for, rot-brain,” Esi snapped.
“And where is she now?” Delo demanded. “When’s the last time she bothered to come out to any of the posts and give an update?”
“It doesn’t matter if she never comes. We believe in her ideals, or at least we did. Some of us still do.” Esi grabbed my arm but addressed Rull next. “I’ll keep Taja with me, but we need to clear my border today. Tomorrow, we’ll join a unit. Somehow, nothing got done yesterday, and the growth by my home is at least three days old.”
Rull clenched his jaw, and the pulse in his neck feathered against taut muscles. He exhaled slowly and then said, “Understood.”
He dismissed the meeting and, after everyone else had left, walked with us toward the path that would take us back to Esi’s home. “It’s been rough the last few days,” he said, keeping his attention elsewhere. “We lost Trine yesterday—Ero’s partner—so I forgot to send anyone to milk the goats.”
Esi stumbled although the path was free of obstruction. I glanced at her then to the male who suddenly seemed much older than forty. His attention shifted my way, but he never looked me in the eyes either. Trepidation slithered over my skin, and I glanced away.
Esi slowed her pace, and her expression darkened. “Lost her? As in the bûyî? Or did she run away?”
He shrugged. “No one knows for sure, although I assume it was the bûyî. She just disappeared. Ero came to supper asking if anyone had seen her after her work unit dispersed, but the last time she was seen was on her way to their home.”
“Any indication of a struggle? Did someone look at their home?”
Rull shook his head and glanced at Esi, his lips pulling up into a half-smile. “You’re the only one who would even think that. Everyone liked Trine—especially Ero. No one in Pûleêr is going to kill another. We’re all fighting for the same thing. We need each other.” His smile softened, and then he waved toward the path. “Go on, you two. Clean up your border. Then take the rest of the day off. We’ll see you for supper.”
Esi nodded, and Rull turned and started back toward the tables. So much about him seemed practiced and insincere. Beyond him, dozens of magî still sat at their tables, laughing and eating. While I could understand why the pregnant females might get a pass at physical labor, there were plenty of young males there—including Rull’s son.
“Hey,” Esi called out to the head of their council. “Have Dostane tell the serving magî we get protein. I’m not going to starve because Taja’s new.”
Rull’s pace didn’t slow, but he waved his hand overhead and said, “Noted.”
Esi marched down the path, muttering to herself, and I ran after her.
“Don’t be nervous,” she said as I caught up. We took several steps, the only sounds between us the distant jungle and the dripping moisture from the canopy above. I wasn’t sure what she was referencing, so I didn’t try to assure or dissuade her regarding my feelings. Finally, she added, “It’s only been four days, not enough time for the bûyî to be a risk.”
Rot. I’d been thinking about the council—still sitting at the table after we left—not
the labor or risk ahead. Suddenly I wasn’t sure if her words of assurance were intended for me or her.
“Who’s Zädîsa?” I asked, both to change the subject and seek information.
Esi slowed her pace, and her eyes lit with adoration as she spoke. “The sister of Zîyanâ, the kümdâr’s bondmate. Zädîsa defied the sovereign to warn the outposts about the Serîk and the kirinî. She also told us Serîk can track magîk.”
Which explained the rules. Zädîsa was obviously Esi’s hero, too. “Did she also tell you how to avoid the bûyî?”
“No,” Esi said with a small shake of her head. She inhaled, her features contorting with conflict. “Maybe a little, but mostly about the Serîk taking magî. She suggested everyone be treated fairly, equally, and that we stop using magîk.”
I wasn’t sure that what I’d seen in Pûleêr could be called either. “Where is she now? Since she’s not here, enjoying all this fairness, I mean.”
Esi shot me a dirty look and then laughed. “Probably in Yândarî with the rest of the royal family, but I don’t know if that’s true.”
Yândarî, the capital, where they did magîk and nothing was remotely fair or equal. More knowledge I couldn’t explain. Not that any of it mattered to me beyond losing my respect. I couldn’t tolerate hypocrisy, and thus far, there was nothing fair or equal in Pûleêr. Despite my amnesia, my instinct was to distrust those in power until after they’d proven themselves worthy of more—not the other way around.
I followed Esi’s lead, and we spent all day tearing out the new growth around her home. While Esi had no problem walking for hours, by the time we finished, we were both out of breath from the labor. The light had faded, the bell calling us to supper long gone. I was so exhausted I couldn’t muster the energy to protest the meager bowl of water she offered to wash up for dinner. We ate yogurt, cheese, mangoes, lychee, and I drank my fill of goat milk before collapsing on my cot.
“Tomorrow won’t be so easy,” she said, pulling off her sweat-soaked tunic.
“I think I used muscles I don’t really have,” I grumbled. My entire body ached. “I might die. Do you really not have a healer?”
“No magîk,” Esi said wearily, her shoulders slumping as she sat on the edge of my pallet. “No magîk; no Serîk.”
She said something else, but it was lost as I drifted to sleep.
The next morning, we joined the rest of Pûleêr for a community meal again, only this time, after breakfast, Esi led me out of the clearing and down a path, trailing behind the twenty other people assigned to our group. I eyed the other members, catching a few sideway glances. Not that I didn’t understand the curiosity, but my previous self-consciousness grew. New girl, who happens to be filthy, gave away the whey. Not the best way to make a first impression—or second. I tried to brush off the feeling and instead focused on the growth ahead of us.
The plants ranged from ankle to waist high and were at least four feet in width, far more of the lush vegetation impinging on the border of Pûleêr than at Esi’s house.
“We need to push it back to the red bromeliads,” Esi said to me, pointing at the vibrant plants clinging to the branches of trees farther back in the jungle.
I frowned at the near impossibility of the task. “How many days do we have to clear it?”
A girl next to me laughed, a harsh barking sound. She was petite and pretty, but her lip curled with a look of disdain.
“What? I’m just asking,” I said.
“Stop it, Nebe. She’s not from Pûleêr, so how would she know?”
“She’s not from anywhere near here then because most of the posts in the southwest are clearing the plants by hand.” The girl shook her head and glared at me, her lip curling in a sneer. “It’s her fault I’m stuck in this group.” She leaned closer to Esi and whispered, “Don’t tell me you don’t mind.”
What? I frowned at the accusation and looked to Esi for an explanation.
“Leave her alone,” Esi snapped at the other magî.
“Stop talking and get to work,” a male bellowed. “You two can jaw about fault at supper. Five feet ain’t going to clear itself.”
The group moved forward, and all at once, the work commenced. Everyone pulled, tugged, dug, or yanked on the stalks of growth. The sticky mud clung to the roots, and clumps flew through the air as plants were torn from the ground. Talk resumed, speculation about the gender of a young couple’s still unborn baby and who might partner next. One young male magî challenged another to a contest, and bets were made. After we pulled up the growth, we threw it back into the jungle.
The temperature rose as the day went on, and two boys scaled coconut trees for fluid and a snack. Esi accepted one of the green fruits, and we slurped down the water and scooped out the flesh with a dried piece of shell before returning to work. The day dragged. My hands grew raw and chaffed, and my back, thighs, and arms ached. Next to me, Esi wasn’t faring much better.
“Are we close?” I groaned as I straightened to look at the tree line. My eyes burned, but I flushed with triumph when I saw we were less than six inches away from the bright-red plants. My exhaustion waned just enough to renew my determination.
Someone let out a whoop, followed by several more. I raised my head to see the two male magî who’d made a bet in the morning slap each other’s hands.
“Done!” one of them yelled, kicking mud at the other. “I beat you by a foot.”
Another young male, maybe twelve or fourteen, scooped up a handful of mud and flung it at the other. “You liar. I beat you. You didn’t—”
“Come on,” Esi said, grabbing me by the arm and dragging me away from the mud fight. “If we leave now, we can take a bath before we eat. The Cem is always crowded, but I know somewhere we can go now.”
I whirled about and grinned. “Finally.”
Esi snorted. “You’re more excited about taking a bath than about food?”
“So?” My stomach growled, denying her conclusion—or maybe it was telling me I had my priorities wrong. “Don’t you want to be clean?”
She tilted her head as she studied me. “Clean is a luxury.” Frowning, Esi continued, “Keep talking, Taja, and we’ll sort out where you’re from.”
We walked through a narrow path, and the sound of splashing water tickled my ears. “Is that a waterfall?”
I pictured a crystal-blue, shallow lake with smooth river rocks lining the bottom. On one side a waterfall cascaded through the surface, filling the air with its mist. The flow over the rocks was just enough to beat the dirt off my skin and rinse my hair. I could almost taste the verdant growth and the sweetness of orchids on the tip of my tongue. And behind the falls, a deep cavern that smelled of . . . I frowned as the dream, or maybe memory, evaporated. The pounding roar of water beat against my eardrums, and the heavy moisture clung to my skin. Following Esi, I rounded the corner and stepped into a large gap in the flourishing fauna.
“This is the Cemik,” Esi said.
There was a waterfall, but it was much taller than I’d anticipated—at least fifty feet high—and the cascade crashed over a stony cliff, the rocks jutting out through the gush of water. Ironically, the waterfall fed a lazy river, the current moving out of the pool at a snail’s pace, and the water lapped at the edges of the muddy bank. I stepped to the border and tested it. The temperature was cool and the eddies translucent enough I was confident there weren’t any caiman hiding in hopes of chomping me.
Without waiting for Esi, I tugged off my tunic and strode into the meander—almost a pool—and sighed as the water swallowed my calves, knees, then thighs.
“Whoa,” Esi said, and then she burst into laughter. “Why’d you take your tunic off? You need to wash it, too.”
The delicious prospect of an unhurried bath filled me with joy, and I twirled in the pool to face her. Esi’s smile slipped from her face, and her eyes widened in horror as her jaw dropped.
Dread rushed into me, and I spun with a scream on my lips, anticipating
something terrible behind me, open jaws or a conda about to strike, but there was nothing. The water continued to cascade from the cliff above, splashing into the river upstream of the bend. The surrounding banks were empty, no terrible animals lying in wait.
“What?” I snapped, spinning back toward her, irritated because she’d scared me—the emotion unnecessary when there was no danger.
Esi stooped to pick up my tunic and then waded into the water, saying, “I’m sorry . . . I just . . . I’ve never seen scars like that.”
Scars? My gaze dropped, and for the first time, I noticed my chest and abdomen. I traced my fingertips over the red, ropey marks, raised in some spots and dipping into shallow depressions in other areas. The wounds weren’t tender, but my stomach turned with the gross evidence of the severe trauma I’d endured.
“Someone tried to kill you,” Esi whispered, suddenly standing next to me. “Why would someone try to kill you?”
I shook my head. What could I have done to make someone want to hurt me? The totality of the mutilations indicated something more than just a will to kill. The gashes were too wide to be claws, too spread out to be a single wound—
“Like someone tried to stab you in your sleep,” she murmured, shaking her head. “And all those other ones . . .”
I glanced at her, and while her eyes were still wide, her lips were contorted in a sympathetic smile of pity. She swished my tunic in the water and then held the garment out to me.
“If someone wanted to kill you, and you got away, there’s a chance they’ll be looking for you. Better keep those scars hidden.”
I nodded and accepted the soaking fabric. Was that what had happened? I wouldn’t be surprised. But then why did my amnesia affect everything about me, not just the trauma? With a squeeze, muddy water dripped from the tunic.
“I guess this means I can’t wear those little bandeau tops like that one girl—Nebe was it?” I joked. Dunking the material into the water, I scrubbed the piece together and swirled it around.
Esi spun in a circle next to me, stopping with a grunt. “Nebe is trying to get back at Rojek for choosing to partner with Dawi. That being said, I’d recommend against the wrap-top, but not only because of your scars.”