We need to leave now, she sent to Mardu. They’re excited and impressed, but if we hang around, I’ll just become a girl with a talking bird.
I am not sure they will let you leave, Mardu replied. Will they not simply follow you?
Eliza grinned mysteriously. Not if we do this right. We need to put on a show. Stay ready. When I tell you, start translating exactly what I say.
Eliza turned and plucked a large berry from the bush beside her and then she took a step forward, bringing herself face to face with the boy who seemed to be the leader of the group. Without breaking eye contact, she crushed the berry in the palm of her hand.
Now, Mardu.
At her shoulder, Scraw began to speak as Eliza reached toward the boy’s face. I mark you now as Embers of my Flame, she sent. At her shoulder, Scraw repeated her words in the local language, giving them eerie weight with the harsh birdness of his voice. As the bird intoned her message, Eliza swiped sideways across the boy’s eyes, leaving a thick smear of pulp and juice across them. Your eyes are now mine, she sent. You see only for me. The boy stood mesmerized as though he were hearing the words of the Dragon himself, instead of some frightened foreign chick just making stuff up out of desperation. She dipped her fingers back into the sticky mess in her hand and reached up again, this time drawing her fingers down in a line over his lips. Your words are now mine, she intoned through the crow. You speak only for me. Around them, the other boys had fallen into stunned silence, watching the ritual with apparent awe.
When she was done, and with Scraw’s words still ringing in the air, Eliza turned and pulled five more berries from the shrub, which she then handed to each of the boys in turn
Each of you is mine. Bound to my will. Champion of my duty. Mark yourselves, as I have marked the first among you, and remain here. Think upon my words and make yourselves ready. In the morning, I shall return, and together we shall straighten the words that have been twisted. We are its Keepers, and together we shall restore the Oath of Kings.
Then, in as dignified a manner as she could muster with a crow bobbing around on her shoulder, Eliza strode away from the boys and off into the Forest. For a time, she didn’t dare look back, for fear of breaking the spell her words had cast over them. She had seen it in their eyes when she’d handed them the berries. They were actually buying it.
That was most… dramatic, Mardu sent.
You think we got their attention? Eliza asked. She couldn’t help but let a mental giggle follow the question.
“K-k-k-keh!” said Scraw. At least the crow thought it was funny.
Chapter 8
“Return her to Abeni!”
Leaves tore at Tayna’s face as she plunged through them, and the only thing between her and the crushing bounce below was the Wagon of Tears, which she still clung to with one hand as it pulled her down.
Below that, there was only Abeni. But why did he look so mad? And why was he throwing enormous tree trunks around? Like that one there, hurtling up toward her now.
If a tree trunk, A, leaves Methilien traveling straight up at a speed of twenty miles per hour, and a girl’s head, B, falls from the sky at thirty miles an hour, how long until tree A intersects head B?
Answer: Right now.
* * *
Most people think that when you’re knocked out by a blow to the head, you remain unconscious for a long time. Blame Hollywood. In movies, the hero is often out cold for hours or even days before waking up in all his groggy masculinity. Usually tied to a chair, or stuffed in the trunk of a car. But that’s not how unconsciousness really works.
Tayna woke up just before she hit the ground.
More precisely, she woke up just as the Wagon thundered to the Forest floor below her. So she didn’t so much hit the ground, as the Wagon. It turned out though, that this was probably the better option. When a bajillion-ton block of solid granite and precious metals plunges out of the sky into an overgrown forest, ground-zero tends to explode with little jagged knives of broken wood and rock. Luckily for her, Tayna landed—ribs first—across the upper row of sky tubes, as the Wagon teetered precariously to one side, and she was able to grab hold of those tubes before getting flung off into the brand new forest of wooden knives when the whole thing settled back onto its runners. Her entire side was on fire from the impact, but at least she was puncture-free. Probably. In the distance, she heard a tree trunk crash to the forest floor.
“Hit by the pitch. Walk your base,” Tayna groaned, although judging by the look of him, Abeni didn’t even realize that last throw had hit her. He was standing there in dazed silence, with his massive arms half curled at his sides, mouth open, and his chest heaving like the bellows of a forge. His eyes still had a sort of post-rage glaze that was only just beginning to cool enough for surprise to show through. Around him, the forest floor was torn up as though an enraged bull had been staked to that very spot.
Tayna took all of this in as she crawled her way gingerly to the end of the Wagon—the part that was not surrounded by sharpened death—and slid to the ground. She was woozy, but she’d be okay.
With one hand clutched across her torso, delicately probing her battered ribs, Tayna picked her way through the wreckage toward her friend. Had he been worried about her? “It’s okay, Abeni. I mean, I’m okay.” Her fingers found a very tender patch of skin. It felt scraped and raw. “At least, I think I am.” She pulled back the edges of a tear in her kirfa, revealing an angry, red weal of skin inside. “Crap! I just healed all that!” she muttered. Then she turned to her large friend. “What do you think? Does this look okay?”
Abeni glanced at the wound, but he seemed to have more pressing concerns, glancing repeatedly at the sky above them. “The First Prince does not follow?”
“Who Angiron? I almost forgot about him,” Tayna said, realizing with a start how long it seemed since she had escaped him. “No, I doubt he’ll be coming that way,” she said. “I don’t think Yama will like him.”
“The Judge of Changes?” Abeni asked, with a jerk of his head, seeming to see her, truly, for the first time. “What does the Little Fish know of that one?”
Now Tayna was confused. “Um, cranky looking Gnome guy? Face about this high off the ground?” She held her hand way up over her head. “Kinda hard to miss. Didn’t he talk to you on your way through?”
“Abeni has heard stories of the Judge,” he said. “But to see him? To share words? Even in stories, few have been given such an honor. It has not happened for many years.”
“So if you didn’t see him and you didn’t talk to him, what did you do?”
“Abeni does not understand. See when?”
“When you came through the wall. It took forever. You must have seen something. Did you at least get an in-flight movie or something?”
But Abeni was still shaking his head. “The Little Fish pushed Abeni, and he passed through the White Wall, where he fell to the ground. Here.” The big Djin pointed at the torn up ground around his feet. “There was no ‘movie.’”
Tayna pursed her lips. “No trial either, huh? And it was fast? No long pause, floating in his waiting room or anything?” Abeni cocked his head, perplexed. “Well, that’s weird. Then you didn’t get the explanation. That big wall we came through? According to Yama, the Dragon’s Peace is more than just some magical law or a set of rules or something. It’s an actual place too. This place.” Tayna winced as she spread her arms to indicate the entire Forest around them.
“The Peace is every thing and every place—the Throat, the Forest, the Anvil—all of it. And that giant bubble thing is supposed to keep other things out. Bad things. Or maybe just things that don’t play well with others. That’s what the bubble wall is for. It’s the Judgment. And he is too. I think maybe I was just seeing a sort of puppet show. I mean, a television in Methilien? That had to come from my brain, right? I know it sounds strange, but I think the Judge is the Wall. You need big magic just to push through it. But even that’s not enough. You also h
ave to get past the him part. Apparently he let you through without a fuss, but for me, he wasn’t so sure, so that’s probably why I got the full treatment.”
“So the Little Fish believes now as Abeni does? That she has power?”
Tayna sighed. “People keep telling me I’ve got game, magic-wise. Maybe they’re right. After all, we didn’t have any trouble getting through the Wall, and that’s supposed to be hard, right? And I was able to heal all my bruises pretty quickly, once Yama showed me how.” She looked down at her hands and feet, as though trying to convince herself that it had really happened. Abeni looked as well, and seemed almost amused by this new revelation.
“The Little Fish has too many surprises for Abeni,” he announced. “We must speak with Kijamon. He will know what to do.”
Tayna sighed in delight at the very thought. “Oh, that would be awesome,” she said. “I’d love to meet somebody who knew what was going on that wasn’t also trying to kill me.”
Abeni laughed with her at that, but beneath their moment of humor, there was a note of unspoken tension that neither of them wanted to think about. They were still miles from home, with a forest and a mountain yet to conquer.
And if history was any indication, the future of their journey would be no easier than its past.
* * *
Eventually though, there wasn’t much more they could discover about the Judge, and they had a more pressing problem. When the Wagon had come through, it had emerged twenty or thirty feet above the Forest floor. Voila! Instant Wagon-bomb. Surprisingly, the Wagon itself hadn’t been damaged in the fall, but the Forest around it was a different story, and the great granite sledge now sat neatly trapped inside a spray of broken tree trunks, branches, torn earth, heaved rocks and general carnage. It was a mess, and Tayna could only watch helplessly as Abeni tried and tried to chant the Wagon high enough into the air to free it from its accidental cage.
Tayna wanted to help Abeni as he wrestled with that puzzle, but she knew nothing practical about Wagon operations, and even less about charm songs. And there was another puzzle that kept teasing at her, drawing her attention away from his efforts. Why had they come through the wall so high above the ground? They’d been standing on the ground on the other side. What was the point of the Wall teleporting them up into the air when they came through?
It was Abeni who figured it out though, when she mentioned her puzzle to him during a break in his own efforts.
“The snow is too deep,” he said. Tayna looked at him for an explanation, and Abeni shrugged. “For millennia, the winds have blown across the Cold Shoulder,” he said, “moving the snows from place to place, sculpting great drifts and deep chasms. Perhaps the snow has become very, very deep against the Great Wall.”
As soon as he said it, Tayna felt stupid. Of course that was it! When she’d pushed Abeni—and then the Wagon—through the bubble, she hadn’t been pushing them through a door on the ground floor—she’d pushed them through an upper-story window, high on the side of the dome. It was a wonder she hadn’t killed them both!
“Um, sorry about that,” she said, turning away to hide her sudden embarrassment. Stupid, stupid, stupid! But Abeni laughed loudly.
“The Little Fish is displeased.” he said. “She rescues the Wagon and Abeni from the King of Gnomes, and then is angry that she was not more gentle.”
Tayna locked eyes with him for a moment, but a sheepish smile soon reddened her face. “Okay, I get it,” she said. “Stupid, yes, but I couldn’t have known, so ‘yay me,’ I guess.” Abeni’s scowl did not soften though, and after another long moment of trying to avoid his gaze, Tayna sighed and threw her hands up.
“Okay, I get it! Really!” she said. This time Abeni’s glare evaporated as though it had never been there, and he nodded happily. “I just don’t like making mistakes like that. What if we’d been a hundred feet up?”
Abeni shrugged. “Then Abeni and the Little Fish would be dead,” he said. “In battle there is always risk.” And it really did seem to be just that simple to him.
Tayna watched as he went back to examine the Wagon, and she wondered how he did that. How could he just shrug and accept the fact that something he said or something he decided might just get him killed? Or her? How could you know that and not lose sleep over it?
But as perplexing as that was, she was beginning to run in circles around it, making herself dizzy without actually getting anywhere. Much like Abeni with the trapped Wagon. She’d watched him try over and over again, but he couldn’t raise it high enough to get past the shattered stumps and branches. Tayna shook herself clear of her own mental merry-go-round, and decided it was time to try something different.
“Hey, Great Whale! Come sit down for a minute, would you? Watching you try not to get smashed into jello is giving me a headache.”
Abeni could walk for days, singing the Wagon into the air and leading it across frozen wastelands without missing a step or even breathing hard. But there’s something about frustration that just kicks the joy out of any half-wise competent person—Djin or otherwise—and the Abeni that surrendered and came over to sit beside her now was as worn and bedraggled as she had ever seen him. He was silent as he rolled a shattered stump over to point its dangerous shards down into the soil, and sat carefully on the safer end.
“Remember what you said the other day? After the fire trap?” Tayna said. “About me maybe having ‘Little Fish’ magic?” Abeni raised an eyebrow. “Well, I’ve never really wanted to be special, you know? I’m just a kid, and all I’ve ever really wanted was to be allowed to be a kid. Just an everyday, ordinary freak of a kid.”
Abeni frowned. “The Little Fish is many wonderful things,” he said. “But she is not to use this word: ‘ordinary.’ It is a lie. Abeni forbids it.”
Tayna laughed. “Well, that’s kind of what I’m talking about. See, what I mean is, I’ve always wanted to be ordinary, but that doesn’t really seem to be in my cards, does it?”
“So what has the Little Fish decided?”
Tayna looked up at her big friend, and took a deep breath. “Well, this Little Fish has decided that maybe it’s time to see just how not normal she can be. Wanna help?”
Abeni’s face broke into a matching smile. “Indeed, Abeni would enjoy such a thing.”
Tayna got up, wincing from the tightness that had gathered along her ribs as she’d been sitting, and picked her way carefully toward the jagged wooden cage that held the Wagon. She waved for Abeni to join her.
“I’ve been thinking about what happened back there with creepy boy, and then again with the Judge. I guess it’s kind of hard for me to keep saying I don’t have any power, huh? Maybe I do have something. And if I do, then I guess I’d better start figuring out how it works.”
But if she was expecting Abeni to be surprised, or suspicious about her change of heart, she was disappointed.
“Abeni agrees with the Little Fish,” he said. “Let us begin.” Then he stood up and offered her his hand. “What will she do?”
Tayna took his hand and let him help her down the slivery slope of broken tree parts, and together they made their way through the last of the shattered wood to stand beside the Wagon.
“Well, it was actually pretty easy the other times,” she said. “I just kind of reached out and grabbed it, like a battery. And then I could do stuff.” Abeni gestured at the Wagon, encouraging her to try.
“But what if I break it?” she asked. There weren’t many things she could imagine herself doing that would make Abeni angry, but if she accidentally snapped the Wagon of Tears in half, that might be one. Abeni however, just laughed, and spread his arms wide.
“The Wagon has fallen from a great height upon many trees and rocks, causing much damage,” he said. “Yet even now, it is unmarked. Abeni does not think the Little Fish can do any greater harm.”
Reassured by his vote of confidence, Tayna closed her eyes and concentrated. She found that place of calmness within herself, and then
reached out from within, feeling for the power.
But she couldn’t find it.
She opened her eyes and looked around, as though she might be able to actually see what was different, but it wasn’t as though there was a giant electrical switch she could find that was inexplicably set to the off position. After a moment, she closed her eyes again. Concentrate! It was so easy earlier!
The world fell away, and Tayna could feel the wholeness of existence all around her. She could sense the broken bits of wood and stone. She could feel the heavy presence of the Wagon. She could even feel the eternal, heavy silence of the trees surrounding her, their ancient roots questing deep into the soil, and the rocks below that, thrusting even deeper down, connecting with the very core of the world.
“Aw, gimme a break!” she muttered, shaking her head in frustration. “Now suddenly I get nothing?” She opened her eyes. Abeni was still standing there, watching her intently.
“Before, it was just like breathing, or floating in water,” she said. “I didn’t have to concentrate, or make up fairy tales in my head about it. I just did it. I felt for it, found the power, grabbed it, and used it. Easy peasy!”
“And now?”
“And now, nothing!” she said. “It’s like the power’s turned off. Brownout in sector three. Emergency crews are working round the clock to bring you a better tomorrow today. But still, bupkiss!”
Abeni took a step forward and placed a consoling hand on her shoulder. “Perhaps the Little Fish does not yet understand her gift,” he said. “Abeni will show her the chant. Then perhaps the Little Fish can build upon that.” With that, he tipped his head back and splashing music, wet and bubbly, erupted from his throat.
The Wagon shot up into the sky and vanished.
* * *
Getting the Wagon to come back down turned out to be easier than they’d expected—just a simple matter of modifying Abeni’s chant. Instead of urging the Wagon to strain against the bonds of gravity as he had been doing, Abeni sang more about floating at a dignified height, above the heads of the Warders, but not so high that it couldn’t be seen. A few moments later, the Wagon settled back down and did just that, although the two friends were rather shaken by the experience. With a single glance, they reached a silent agreement. They were not going to talk about this just yet. They each needed time to process what had happened.
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