by Wagner, Raye
“Oh,” I said with a pang of disappointment. “Do you know why the kümdâr’s having multiple kirinîs?”
Svîk chuckled and shook his head. “That’s a whole new set of questions, and it’s my turn.”
My cheeks heated, and I rushed to say, “Sorry. Go ahead.”
“Where did Esi find you? She did find you, right?”
The pang of disappointment blossomed, spreading through my chest and carving out a deep ache of loss. “Yes. She found me on the Little Rê—between Terit and Pûleêr. I was living in a hovel there.”
“In a hovel? Alone? Or with your family?”
I shrugged, debating on how to tell him. But I couldn’t think of any other way to say the truth besides blurting it out. “I can’t remember.”
“Really?” he asked, his eyes wide. “You can’t remember who was living with you?”
“I can’t remember anything before a certain day. Absolutely nothing, except stuff about Qralî, and all of that is old news—like from years ago.”
“Fetid rot,” he said with a heavy exhale. “That’s terrible. I mean, I heard things.” He waved his hand back toward Pûleêr. “Just like I’m sure you have about me. But I didn’t believe them.”
Guilt nagged at me because I hadn’t been so fair. I pushed the emotion away and went back to my questions. “Esi said the kümdâr is doing something to kill the magî. Is that true?”
He blanched. “I don’t know where she got her information—”
“Terit. She has a cousin in Terit. She was heading back to Pûleêr from there when she found me.”
Shaking his head, he said, “She was one gutsy girl if she would walk all the way from here to Terit. The Serîk who patrol the Little Rê are brutal.”
She’d said as much. “Is it true? Is he killing his own people?”
Svîk swallowed, and his skin turned ashy as he nodded. “It’s true. He’s been experimenting.”
“How? And what is he trying to do?”
“He’s trying to change the nature of our kind,” he replied, and his eyes reflected significant terror—enough to emphasize his next words. “But the process is brutal.”
But how would that even be possible? I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. “Sounds awful.”
He rolled his shoulders as though shrugging off the weight of what he’d seen. “I hope you never have to see it. Please, can we talk about something else—anything else?”
I chewed on my lower lip. I couldn’t see any other way to get answers, but maybe Svîk would know. “Is there a magî who can unblock my memory?” I asked. “Is there someone in Yândarî, or maybe one of the other posts, who can help me get my memory back?”
“I don’t know,” he muttered and turned back to the foliage.
He was silent then, but above us in the canopy, a family of tamarin chittered and hollered at one another. With a grunt, Svîk picked up the pace on his labor. The afternoon light waned, and rain fell, squeezing through the canopy above and chasing away the tamarin. We finished the path and plowed into the growth around Esi’s one-room structure, pushing the jungle back foot by foot, racing against the—
The bell clanged, calling us to supper. Way more than two hours.
“Come on,” Svîk said, straightening. He was splattered with mud, and it had smeared on his face where he’d wiped away the sweat.
But I shook my head. The hopelessness of my situation had stolen my appetite, and I just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep. “You go ahead. I’m too tired to eat.”
He stared at me, his expression hardening.
Rot. He was going to try and convince me, so I added, “And I have a little of that bread left over.” I pulled it out to show him. “See, I’m all good. I’ll take a bath, eat another coconut, and go to sleep.”
“All right,” he said with a nod. “I’ll see you in the morning?”
“Yep,” I said, giving him a thumbs up. “Thanks for all your help.”
He walked several paces then turned toward me and said, “The only magî I know who can help with memories is Zîvrünê, the kümdâr’s brother. But he disappeared months ago, and I’m not sure if he’s ever been found.”
“Well, that’s something.” Useful? Maybe—possibly.
“I’m not disclosing anything secret or special. Everyone in Yândarî knows what Zîvrünê’s power is—or was, rather. And there might be other magî with similar power, but his would be the most powerful—as a zeta.”
I nodded my acknowledgement and then waited for Svîk to leave. I’d spent the day distracted, intentionally avoiding any thoughts of the morning and my hallucination of Esi. But with exhaustion taking over, I needed time to decompress, to think and process. After Svîk left, I trudged to the Cemik, wanting to wash away the entire day, or three, before bed. For having lost my memory and hating that I couldn’t remember, I sure wanted the pain of Esi’s disappearance—death—to be gone.
As I splashed in the water, it was easy to lie to myself that the moisture on my face was just from the river. But the ache in my chest didn’t go away.
I released a breath, a slow languished exhale, and kicked my feet, propelling myself through the water. My tunic billowed around me, brushing against my thighs with the movement. I opened my eyes and stared up at the canopy, the vines connecting the trees in ladders of looped ropes that the monkeys used for travel. The water muted the sounds of the jungle, the chirps, trills, and calls, and I enjoyed the moment of peace as I floated.
I thought of Esi, wishing there was some way to bring her back. I swam until my fingers and toes wrinkled from exposure to the water, and then I climbed out on the rocky shore and waited until my tunic was nearly dry. Shaking my head, I stood and marched to the top of the trail as if I could will her to appear. The idea of returning to the hovel, her home, brought a fresh swell of emotion. I ached with the loss of my friend and, with a huff, returned to the water. Wading in to my ankles, my thoughts drifted from Esi to Ruin, the only other living thing I’d really cared about—or that cared about me. Had the dream of him as a magî just been a desperate hallucination? Probably. But the pang of longing for him ran deeper than even the loss of my friend.
I was all kinds of backward.
“Stupid cat,” I muttered, stomping out of the clear pool. Glancing up, I saw the afternoon had faded into twilight as I started up the hill toward the perimeter road—and home.
I approached three women walking together, their heads inclined as they whispered to each other. One looked up, her gaze colliding with mine, and she pulled the others to a stop with her gasp.
“Oh my soul,” one of the women exclaimed, blanching.
“Where have you been?” another one asked, a portly female who I think was named Eria.
Shrugging, I said, “Down at the Cemik pool.”
“Wh-what?” Eria sputtered, looking at the female magî on her right who shook her head.
The four of us stood on the wide path, but the division was clear. I remained on my side while the three of them stared me down. I’d often wondered why no one else ever came here to bathe, but I was afraid to ask and then find I’d suddenly have to compete for resources. It was like my quiet slice of joy.
“No one goes to the Cemik anymore. Not since Petra—Esi’s mother—drowned there.”
“Drowned?” one of the other magî said, shaking her head. “She didn’t drown there.”
I narrowed my gaze. “What are you talking about?”
Eria’s eyes were as wide as a pomelo. “No one knows for sure.”
“Don’t be daft, Eria. Right now might be safe because of the time of the year, but if that female conda gets hungry after she drops her young.” She tsked at Eria and then turned her frown on me. “You won’t even know until it’s too late. She’s at least thirty feet long.”
My stomach turned, and suddenly I knew why there were no caiman or other large predators there. If the female conda was thirty feet long, it could eat an adult male—or female. “How
long ago?”
“Three months ago,” a dark-haired female said. She shot a glare at Eria and added, “Just before Esi went to Terit. Worse than the bûyî—unless Petra drowned before the conda ate her.”
The weight of what they were saying hit me like a caiman’s tail. Bile burned the back of my throat. “Why would Esi take me there? Why would she even go there?” I shook my head, knowing the answer before anyone said it. “That’s not bravery.”
Eria blanched and stuttered, but the dark-haired magî spoke. “Everyone has to face their demons somehow. Didn’t she ever tell you?”
“No,” I gasped, shaking my head. That was an extreme way of facing death—more like playing chicken with it—and cruel to include me without telling me the risk. I took a deep breath, decided I was done at the Cemik, and then said, “I can’t believe she never told me.”
The magî had to be in their early twenties. Older than me and Esi, but not by a lot. One of them twitched and wouldn’t meet my gaze, and Eria coughed and coughed. Only the dark-haired female continued to stare at me.
She narrowed her eyes and shook her head. “You should be careful who you trust.”
“I will,” I replied, dread slithering down my spine. “Thanks for telling me.”
“Of course. I—we—didn’t know, or one of us would have told you sooner.” She looked at her companions who both nodded in agreement. She stepped toward me, lowering her voice as she continued. “I’m sorry. I know you thought she was your friend, but that’s . . . wrong.”
I stared at her, the female with dark hair and a dirty green tunic, wishing there was some way I’d misunderstood her words because . . . There was no way. She was wrong. Esi . . . I swallowed a gulp of air and panicked denial. In a hoarse voice filled with shock, I choked out, “Thanks.”
23
The next morning at breakfast, I asked Dostane if the story of Esi’s mother was true. I didn’t want to call anyone a liar, but I could hardly reconcile that Esi, my friend, would put me in the path of danger.
“We do odd things, most especially when it comes to protecting our loved ones or dealing with their loss,” Dostane replied. “I would go to any lengths to protect Doli, and I’m hardly unique.” She pursed her lips and pointed across the common area.
I pivoted to follow the trajectory and saw Svîk talking to Eria and the dark-haired female magî, his features twisted with anger.
“He has a strong attachment to you. I might even call it love or possibly infatuation,” she said. “Odd, considering how little time he’s been here.”
I blushed and turned away from Svîk, facing Dostane, but couldn’t bring my gaze up to meet hers. “He’s certainly been persistent,” I agreed. But it wasn’t fair to tear him down . . . “And he’s the only one to even try to be my friend since Esi left.”
As soon as the words were out, I wanted to take them back. Instead, I fumbled and added, “And you.”
Dostane laughed, but it sounded forced. “I understand. He’s closer to your age than I am, and that does matter right now. Just be careful you don’t jump into anything unless your head and your heart are in agreement.”
I smiled, filled with appreciation for her wisdom as well as caring enough to share. “Thank you.”
“Fetid rot,” Svîk said, stepping to my side. “I just heard what happened last night—”
Waving at Dostane, I pulled Svîk through the line with me. “It doesn’t matter now. I’m fine, and there’s nothing to do at this point. I’m not going there anymore.”
He sucked in a deep breath, the air hissing between his teeth. After exhaling, he pushed his lips into a smile, but his eyes flashed with suppressed rage. “I would say not. I know you think she was your friend, Taja, but friends don’t do that kind of thing.”
There was no way for me to reconcile it in my head, and Esi wasn’t here to ask. All I could do was agree. “I know. Why were you yelling at Eria? She and her friends were the ones to tell me.”
“And I can’t believe they did. Right as you were coming out of the water? I think they were trying to make it sound like they were doing you a favor, but I can’t even imagine how you slept last night.”
Not well at all. “I slept fine.”
“Rot. I don’t believe you for a minute,” he said. He took my tray and set it on the table before pulling me into a hug. “I’m glad you’re safe.”
His intensity and compassion nearly overwhelmed me, and I pulled away so I could maintain my composure. “Me too.”
As we walked toward the tables, we passed dozens of magî, and I couldn’t help but notice a significant percentage of the females greeted Svîk warmly and then glared at me. Great.
I slid into my seat and shoved a bite of fried plantain into my mouth, patting the bench next to me with my other hand. Svîk sat, but he continued to flex and stretch his hands as though trying to contain the emotion within.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Why are you upset?”
He stilled, and several moments passed before he spoke. “I’ve been running, hiding, for the last two months, trying to find my way to Pûleêr, hoping to start anew. Then I get here . . .” He pursed his lips and then asked, “What if—”
The clang of metal interrupted our conversation, demanding our attention. Rull climbed up on the table and called out our work units. When he announced mine, I grimaced. The only name I recognized in my group was Nebe, and the girl was insufferable. Not that it would matter much. I’d just position myself on the other side of the group, but still.
“Why are you frowning?” Svîk asked as we stepped away. “Were you hoping for a day off?”
Rull had explained that the council had changed the rotations so everyone would get an equal balance of work and personal time, which for me would mean separate time to keep my home free from the jungle.
“No,” I said. A day off would be far worse than listening to Nebe. With nothing to do, I’d likely get lost in my own thoughts—none of them good. “But it would’ve been nice to have you around to talk to.”
I saw two young women eyeing him as they walked past, and I curled my lip, irritated by their obvious ogling. They turned their attention to me and glared. It probably didn’t matter which group I was in; I’d have to listen to a bunch of female magî talk about him. My gaze slid to the two young women, both still staring at Svîk, only now from a bit more distance. “But I reckon if you were with me, I’d have to listen to them fawning over you all day, which would suck, too.”
His eyes widened, and then he held up a finger. “Don’t you dare leave without me.”
“Where are you going?” I called as he wove through the straggling crowd. I watched him make his way back to Rull.
The two men started talking, and I sighed. Rull wouldn’t go back on the edicts—especially not now. The council had made strides in being transparent about their decisions as well as being fair, and to change it now could undo a lot of that—most definitely for an outsider. I grabbed several plates from the nearest table and then returned them to the kitchen where a dozen magî were washing.
“All good,” Svîk said, suddenly at my side. “We’re going to—Rot. Wherever you were assigned. Was it North?”
“West,” I said, stunned. “Over by my hovel.”
He nodded. “Okay. We’re going there. Rull is putting me with you.”
Well, that was unexpected. I smiled while internally shoving away the nagging guilt for getting special treatment. It wasn’t for me anyway; it was for Svîk.
“Have you lost very many people since you’ve been here, or just Esi?” he asked, breaking through the hum of jungle life.
“Esi was the only one I was close to,” I admitted, my shock at her behavior still making me question our friendship. “What about you? Have you ever lost someone to the bûyî?”
“No.” He sighed and then said, “The bûyî hasn’t reached Yândarî, so the magî residing in the capital and the surrounding innerposts haven’t really been affe
cted by it.”
I turned my head to look at him, frowning at the injustice in his words. Digging my fingers into my palms, I opened my mouth to tell him so, but he beat me to it.
“It’s not fair, I know,” he said somberly, meeting my gaze. His expression was drawn, and he pursed his lips before adding, “But that doesn’t mean I haven’t experienced loss. It’s practically inevitable in the world we live in today.”
We continued walking the path to the perimeter road, and my thoughts were consumed with anger for the magî in the capital—mostly the kümdâr. “Do they not know how bad it is?” I asked. “Or do they not care?”
“It probably depends on who you’re asking.” He huffed before volleying another question my way. “If you could have anything in Qralî, what would you want?”
“I don’t even know where to start right now,” I hedged although there was plenty of truth in the statement. “I might have a list. What about you?”
We arrived and divvied up the plot of land. Svîk and I dove in, working to steal back our space from the jungle. Conversations sprouted up around us, but I knew he hadn’t forgotten my question.
When he finally glanced my way, I was stunned to see tears glistening in his eyes.
He spoke, his whisper breaking, “I wanted a mate, maybe ch-children someday. Is it wrong to want a family?”
My heart ached for him, and I shook my head. “Not wrong at all.”
He drew himself up, straightening his shoulders and setting his jaw defiantly. “Maybe I won’t get it in this life, but I’m not going to be miserable. Life wasn’t meant for just”—he waved his hands at the wall of jungle—“tearing out plants.”
The fierceness in his expression made my heart skip a beat and my mouth dry.
“What about you? Tell me the truth. Who are you, and what do you want, Taja?”
This was it. If I told him, there was no going back. And if I didn’t tell him now, I was fairly certain I never would. But he knew the inner workings of Yândarî. If I was ever going to go there, ever head that way to find out who I once was, it would be nice to have help. “I was attacked by a Serîk,” I blurted. “Almost two months ago.”