Unbeknownst to Ardigund, Belphoebe had already given her heart to Amid, one of the twins of rock and ice, and before the new year she found herself with child. When he discovered his sister’s secret, Ardigund vowed to take the baby for his own. “Where my sister has made me weak, her son shall make me whole, and restore me to the strength for which I was destined.” Ardigund snuck into Amid’s chambers and put a poison into his cup. Weighted with grief, Azul confronted Ardigund, who insisted he played no part in Amid’s death. That night, Azul met the same fate as his brother.
Afraid for Belphoebe’s life and the pure Innocent growing in her belly, Keely and Hines whisked her away, hiding in the mountains of Amid and Azul’s birth. But Belphoebe knew her brother’s heart, knew Ardigund would come for them and kill her dear friends to have the child for his own. So under cover of darkness, she left the twins of diamond and sand.
When Ardigund found Keely and Hines, he tortured them, hoping to uncover the whereabouts of his nephew, hoping to find his successor. The twins of sand and diamond died without ever giving up Belphoebe.
With four other Sacred Innocents dead and one in hiding, Ardigund was free to lead the people in his own design, warping the image of the Essences into a force he named the Beginning. Ardigund appointed a legion of devoted followers he dubbed Gorpoks to help him control the people and placed himself above them as the first of the Ajus, the high ruler. But even with all his power, he still had the desire for more, and continued his search for the child born to his sister.
Fiver and I sat in awed silence, waiting for Lussit to go on. Her cheeks flushed and she looked down at her hands. I had been so wrapped up in her story that I hadn’t noticed she’d been holding Av’s hand the whole time. I looked at Av, his throat rising up and down as he swallowed hard, his entire body tense. I wasn’t sure he’d heard anything she’d been saying, too uncomfortable with his hand in hers.
“Well?” asked Fiver. “Did Ardigund find her?”
Lussit didn’t answer.
“He didn’t,” I said. Her big dark eyes flashed to me. “Because that’s why you’re all here,” I told her. “You’re her descendants.”
She nodded.
“What about the baby?” asked Fiver.
Lussit let go of Av’s hand and fiddled with the scarf around her head. “Of course, that’s just how we tell it. If you asked a Beginner, I’m sure they’d tell you something else altogether.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“The way they tell it, Ardigund is a hero.”
I sat up, disgusted. “How can that be?”
“According to them, Amid kidnapped Belphoebe and she did not love him. According to them, Ardigund was only trying to save his poor sister.”
“So…” Fiver looked to me, his brow knotted. “How do you know whose telling is the right one?”
“We can’t know,” she said, “not without proof.”
“Proof of what?” he asked.
“Who Ardigund was. Was he a jealous killer? Or a dutiful brother?”
After meeting Krepin, I knew whose version I believed.
And now Krepin was in control.
“And Krepin?” I asked. “What does he want?”
“What the Aju before him wanted,” she sighed, “and the Aju before him, on and on and on, right back to Aju Ardigund himself: more followers, more power, more control. The Ajus before him always hated anyone who didn’t follow them, but Krepin took that hate beyond anything before. He wages war on the ‘blasphemers,’ people who don’t believe in the Beginning, to try to scare them, enslave them into following him. People have a choice: join the Beginners or die.”
Without thinking, I put my head in my hands and drowned in the flood of thoughts and fears that were taking solid shape in my mind. My poor Cubby. All alone with Krepin. All alone with the leader of the Beginners. And what about us? Lussit knew why we were here. She’d never let us get away with killing Serin, who’d be watching us at all times anyway. I didn’t know which path to take. It was all coming to a head, and it was all impossible. I decided then that the only option left was to storm the Beginners’ High Temple on my own and break Cubby out, or die trying.
I felt that heavenly touch wrap around my wrist, and she said, “You’re very brave, Urgle.”
I moved my hands from my face and saw her smiling that gentle smile.
“You’re all very, very brave…. That’s why I’m going to help you.”
“What?” My brain almost shut down.
“Why would you do that?” asked Fiver, just as confused.
She grabbed Av’s head gently in her hands and kissed his cheek. “Because,” she said, smiling, “Av is my Brother.”
EIGHT
Before our brains had a moment to remember to breathe and Lussit could offer us a bit more information about how she had come to this conclusion, we were interrupted by the woman in white.
“Holiness,” she said, cutting through the silent stranglehold Lussit’s words held on us. “Serin would like a word.”
Behind the woman in white stood Serin and several other women: the silver-haired woman from the ambush, and a couple of other older ones. Lussit sighed and then produced that gentle smile that seemed to be made of pure love. She nodded and Serin stepped forward.
“On you all my happiness, Sacred Innocent.”
“Mine for you,” said Lussit.
Av was staring at the ground, his eyes wild and his nostrils flaring as he forced himself to take deep breaths. His jaw was tight and he didn’t blink.
He was more than just surprised.
He believed her.
“Many sisters have asked to meet with our guests.”
I looked to the older women behind Serin, their faces drenched in hope and wearing similar smiles to Lussit’s, the love smile. Their eyes wandered from me to Av to Fiver, their hands held over their hearts. They looked so warm and kind, but their smiles were slightly different from Lussit’s. The smiles on these women’s faces were special, not the everyday smile they gave all the time, but reserved especially for us. You could tell they didn’t always smile like this. But Lussit, it was like she knew no other way.
“Holiness,” Serin said, “I have collected the Potentials and they have invited myself and the Ikkuma boys to share the evening meal.”
Lussit bit her lip and looked to Av, but he was still just staring, just breathing—well, trying to, anyway. Her eyes moved to me, but I was no help. I felt myself getting warm, my forehead starting to sweat. The sound of Potentials made me nervous.
“You must go with them,” she said quietly out the side of her mouth. “I am not in charge, Serin is, so there’s nothing I can do to stop this from happening.”
“Potentials for what?” Fiver whispered.
“Your Mothers.”
My heart began to race and I felt myself getting dizzy. I couldn’t face that woman, never. Whoever she was, I wanted her to remain faceless, an evil shadow of the past that I was lucky to escape. She was an unfeeling monster. The kindness and warmth on these women’s faces were emotions my Mother would not be capable of conveying. I couldn’t face her. I wouldn’t face her.
I began to back away, my feet tripping over themselves, and Fiver grabbed me before I could fall backwards.
“We have to, Urgs,” Fiver whispered to me. “That’s why they think we’re here.”
He was right but I didn’t want him to be.
I heard a sharp intake of breath, and saw Av’s eyes come up from the floor as he composed himself. If Av could get himself together after what Lussit had dropped on him, then I could too. I was here for Cubby. I had to do it for him.
Lussit held out her arms to her sisters. “What a generous and loving offer. I release them to your tender care.” She turned to the three of us, and said in a grand, ceremonious voice for everyone to hear: “I will pray you find the answers that you seek. May love fill your hearts.” With that, she bowed to us and gestured to Serin and the “Potentia
ls.”
I knew this was what I had to do, but as I looked at their slightly wrinkled, teary eyes, their hopeful smiles, my feet refused to move. Av nudged me forward and I couldn’t help but resist it. I guessed Av just wanted to go through the motions and not think about his mother. He didn’t even ask Lussit to tell him who it was. She was his sister, after all; she could have told him and he wouldn’t have had to go through any of this. That was when Fiver decided to intervene and he smacked me on the head. I snapped out of it and fell in line, following Av and Fiver to the group of waiting women.
Serin was the only one not smiling. She was still cold and icy, still unsure of us. “Do you remember Tanuk?” she asked, pointing to the silver-haired woman from the ambush. Her face was tender, a happy smile with sad eyes. She’d been the one to suggest we go to Lussit, and really, she’d saved our lives. The three of us nodded and Serin continued. “We will share her hearth tonight.”
Without another word, Serin began to head for the cave opening, and the three of us were quick to follow, too frightened to be left behind with these gushing, weepy Potentials.
As we approached the mouth of the cave, light from the outside hurt my eyes. I looked back, hoping to catch a last view of Lussit, but whatever view I might have had was blocked by the following Potentials.
Outside, the camp was alive with all kinds of women, different shapes and sizes. A scattered group of withered old things was waiting by the entrance, their heads pressed to the floor, singing and praying, while more seemed to be waiting to see us. Old faces and younger ones, girls as small as the Abish fortune-teller giggled in groups and whispered as we passed. Two girls, closer to our age, I guessed, fought each other with bo staffs and sticks. They were growling and viciously battling. My jaw nearly fell open when the smaller one flipped over the taller one, taking out her feet with a single swipe as she landed. The taller girl fell on her back and roared with frustration.
I looked to Av, who wasn’t paying attention, his mind a million miles away from where we were, occupied by a million questions for Lussit, no doubt. But Fiver—he was grinning. It was a big stupid, gawking grin and I hoped way down in my soul that I hadn’t looked like that when I first saw Lussit.
“Our girls learn young,” said Serin when she noticed us watching. “And they learn fast. It’s important to be well versed in combat when you are a Belpheban.”
“And if they don’t?” asked Fiver.
“I’m sorry?”
“If they don’t learn fast, what happens?” I didn’t like the tone in his voice. He was challenging her and she knew it. “You throw them away like you do all the boys?”
I held my breath and waited for Serin’s response, but she said nothing. She simply looked at him with a bit of what I could only identify as pity.
All of a sudden one of the Potentials ran out of the cave and burst into a full-blown wail as she rushed at Fiver. “Benedon! My Benedon!” she cried. “I had to! I just had to! It was the only way to keep you safe!”
Before she could wrap her bony arms around him, Fiver threw her thin, frail body and the woman went flying backwards into the waiting arms of the other Potentials.
In an instant, Serin had him firmly in her grip, his arms pinned behind his back, her bo staff holding up his chin.
“Sisters,” she said to the Potentials, who were busy quieting the crazy woman, wiping her tears and smoothing her hair. “Our visitors have had an exhausting day. Let them rest over a nourishing meal before we reunite them with their Mothers.”
“She’s not my Mother!” Fiver growled.
“No, I doubt she is,” agreed Serin. Then, turning back to the sobbing woman: “Amala, Benedon was born over twenty years ago. These boys are too young to be your Benedon.”
The woman fell to her knees, lost in grief, while Serin let go of Fiver and pressed on to our destination.
“What in the name of Rawley is wrong with these women?” Fiver said.
Serin turned to look at him, stunned at his reaction. “The same thing as you, little Fiver. Heartache for what they lost.”
“Then maybe they shouldn’t have chosen to chuck us in the first place,” Fiver grumbled under his breath.
Serin stepped up to him, pity gone. “Chosen? What choice is it you think we Belphebans have?” That suspicious look was back on her face. I didn’t like it. “Tell me something, Ikkuma boy. What made you so sure our dear Amala was not your Mother?”
He couldn’t be. He wasn’t. He said nothing, shrugged, and kept scowling at the ground, but the damage had been done. It wasn’t that Fiver knew the Amala woman wasn’t his Mother; it was that Fiver didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to know who his Mother was as much as I didn’t. But we had to pretend we did want to know…and we were failing…and Serin was noticing.
“Pity for the timing,” she said, backing away, an obvious restraint in her posture. She didn’t want to come down on us just yet. “Amala would have been a wonderful Mother to have. You would have been lucky if she were.”
Still, Fiver kept his mouth shut and the group, minus Amala, continued on towards Tanuk’s home, a dwelling of low walls of stacked stones and mud with an orange canopy draped over the top. Serin stopped at the opening and Tanuk pulled aside the curtain, ushering us inside.
It was modest, even simpler than the A-Frame. Nothing but blankets and pillows and a corner devoted to dishes and pots and a few bags of grain, as though they didn’t want to make themselves comfortable. I guessed that was the point. Blaze said they moved a lot.
A little girl, younger than Cubby, with curly golden hair and dimpled cheeks, giggled when we entered and ran to an older girl with the same golden hair, a stunning picture of beauty were it not for the monstrous swollen gut she was resting her threading on. I stared; the belly wasn’t fat, it was round, swollen, like someone had filled her full of air. It looked sore, though she seemed comfortable enough.
“My youngest daughter,” said Tanuk, and the round-bellied woman nodded and smiled.
Fiver was staring too, almost frightened by the look of her.
“The baby will be here any day.”
The girl placed a hand on her stomach and rubbed. “I’d hoped for today, but she doesn’t seem to want to come out!”
Out? I looked back to Fiver, who’d gone pale in the face. Out of her stomach?
Serin watched the confusion on our faces and a wry smile spread across her lips. “Not much learned about the birds and the bees in the Ikkuma Pit, is there?”
“A bee did that?” said Fiver, incredulous.
Serin threw back her head and let out a cackle, and I noticed the rest of the women had started to giggle.
“Don’t tease them,” said Tanuk, smiling. “Come now, boys, let that be a lesson for another day.” She ushered us away and picked up the little girl. “My granddaughter, Pepper.”
We nodded politely and the little girl giggled.
“Please sit, let us eat.”
We looked around, unsure of what to do. Serin and the other Potentials sat easily enough, plopping themselves down on the pillows and blankets, forming a perfect circle. The three of us did the same and sat in awkward silence while Tanuk dispensed bowls to each of us filled with some goopy, sloppy mush that smelled like feet.
Then, the night got worse. As I tried to choke down the bland, salty slush, each of the Potentials trotted out a bunch of keepsakes from when their sons had been born, sons they hoped might be us. They handed their bundles to us one by one—swaddling clothes, dusty and ragged blankets, wooden toys and rattles—and asked if any of it looked familiar. It didn’t. Even if these items had once belonged to me, I was just a baby. How could they expect me to remember? I shook my head no, over and over as the next Potential passed me her trinkets. Av and Fiver did the same and I wondered why Lussit was putting us through all this. She could spare Av all of this and just tell him who their mother was. Maybe she didn’t want the others to know they were related. Perhaps she was trying
to save Av by not telling him.
Every look of disappointment from my headshake should have made me happy, I should have taken delight in inflicting misery on these awful women, but instead I found myself feeling sorry for them. “The Guilt,” Farka had called it, and each of the Potentials was covered in it. They’d spent a lifetime regretting letting go of their baby boys.
“No,” sighed Av as he handed back a fuzzy pink blanket to Tanuk. “I’m sorry, I don’t.”
His hand rubbed his forehead and I didn’t know if it was his injury or the Sister thing that was making his head hurt.
Tanuk nodded and folded the little blanket on her lap.
Tanuk had been the easiest Potential to deal with. She wasn’t as crushed as the rest of them when we said no, and she didn’t watch us like all her life’s hopes depended on one of us being her son. She simply accepted what we said and her posture stayed straight. She didn’t slump, she didn’t frown. She just watched us patiently, fingering the blue pendant around her neck, and treated us with all the respect and hospitality she could. Tanuk had a quiet strength about her, a dignity that I had to admire. If I had recognized her fuzzy blanket, it may not have been the worst thing.
I watched as her hand dropped from the object on her neck. It was a tube, kind of, a tube I’d seen before, only much smaller. “What is that?” I said without thinking.
“What? My Abish shroud?” She looked at the blue stone object dangling from her neck and smiled.
“Abish shroud?”
She slid the object off her neck and handed it to me. “A tricky little contraption invented by the Abish to keep secret things safe.”
I turned it over in my fingers. It was identical to Blaze’s flint box, though smaller. The stone was so bright and smooth.
“Secret things,” I repeated.
“It keeps my treasures for me,” Tanuk said, and winked. She reached over and twisted the top to the left, then the bottom to the right. She pressed each end between her index fingers and with a click the little blue tube opened, a frayed old cloth poking out.
The Boys of Fire and Ash Page 18