World Whisperer

by Rachel Devenish Ford

  The next day, the rescuers looked a bit stronger in the river air, but they still seemed to wilt like seedlings whenever the sun shone strong.

  Ben came to speak with Ivram and Isika. "I sense something deeply wrong with them," he said. "I haven't known how to say it, but I hear their inner music going out. I think they'll die if we don't do something."

  Isika gasped, pain filling her chest at his words. "I thought they were doing better," she said.

  "We have to get them to the healers," Ivram said. "I haven't seen this before. They should be feeling better by now.

  "They have food, so they're a bit stronger, but take a good look at them," Ben said. "Can you see how dimly they shine? We have several more days of travel. I don't think they can make it that far." He looked at Isika. "I'm trying to learn to listen to what I hear. I think it's you, Isika, the way you worked with the people back at that house. You need to try to heal them. We don't have time to get them to the healers."

  Isika stared at him in surprise, then looked at the rescuers, and grew afraid as she saw what he was talking about. Each of them had a hollowness to their appearance, as though they were caving in. Ivy was the worst. She sat leaning on her arms, and Isika could see that she looked scooped out, robbed of life. Isika took a deep breath, then walked to the older girl and sat down.

  "How are you?" she asked.

  Ivy looked at her. "I'm dying," she said. "They hurt us too much for healing. I'm not afraid of dying, but I wish I could see my mother again." Her words ended in a sob, then she inhaled deeply. Her skin was gray instead of its normal golden brown. Isika looked into her eyes and saw the tiny light that was going out. She was horrified. After they had been plucked from danger on the ship, could they just die, senselessly like this? Anger at evil, and love for the people who had rescued Kital rushed through her, making heat rise in her face.

  "Let me try something," she said, leaning forward.

  Ivy frowned. "Are you a healer?" she asked.

  "No. But I have healed. And this worked before." Ivy nodded, shrugging as though it didn't matter.

  Isika put her forehead against Ivy's the way she had with Ben, after he fell in the poisoned river. Immediately she felt the deep poison roiling inside Ivy, formed of hopelessness. The goddess had planted a deep doubt in her, doubt that there was a Shaper, that there was anything truly beautiful or good in the world. The doubt left a deep hole, and into that hole, all the sadness of the things that had happened to them—the beatings they had received, standing for days on the rolling deck of the ship, going hungry and without water—had eaten like acid into their souls. Isika shuddered. What the poison had done to Ivy was horrible, such a brutal wound on a young woman. Such things didn't belong on this sunny little river bank.

  "Come with me," Isika said, and they walked toward one of the silverwood trees, Ivy hanging heavily onto her arm.

  They sat at the base of the tree with their legs crossed beneath them. Isika rested her back on the bark of the tree and Ivy faced her. Isika felt the humming of the tree right away, the bright sparks of life that ran up and down its branches. She longed to climb all the way into the canopy of the tree, but she knew Ivy wasn't strong enough for climbing. She rested her forehead against Ivy's again, and this time, all the sorrow and despair came flying out of the older girl, quickly, quickly. Isika sent it into the ground, then sent light and hope, the ingredients Ivy needed for sustenance and life. Isika drew it all from the tree, and from below the tree; the water, and below the water; the earth. All around she saw light and fire and water. Sweet days of sunshine and lying on a hammock, reading a book. A woman Isika recognized as Karah sitting in a lamplit room, singing a sweet song. A dancing, laughing little girl.

  She opened her eyes and drew back so she could look at Ivy. The color had returned to the older girl's face and her eyes were full of light, a deep brown with fire at their centers. She grinned at Isika.

  "What have you done, you beautiful thing?" she asked, reaching out and giving her a bone-crushing hug. She leapt to her feet and did a couple of perfect cartwheels along the riverbank. The others watched her with open mouths, and the rescuer with the long black braid came to Isika, who sat, smiling, at the base of the tree.

  "Do you think—" he asked, and she held out her hands.

  "Come here," she said.

  She healed all of them, and afterward she went to sleep, curled at the base of the tree, her mind whirling with the things she had seen. She dreamed, and in her dream, a large animal came to her, the largest eagle she had ever seen, or the largest cat she had ever seen. The animal changed shape continuously as she ran toward her, until she settled into the shape of a large cat with the wings of an eagle, wings as tall as mountains as she thundered into the camp. Isika knew her to be the Shaper. She picked Isika up in her mouth and tossed her on her back, and they flew. First, she showed Isika the beauty of the world, and Isika gasped as she saw tangled forests and the expanse of the sea, islands like jewels, the white, long desert. Then the Shaper took her over Azariyah, the city of the Maweel.

  Isika saw through the Shaper's eyes and she was dismayed by what she saw. Little bits of poison clung to the corners of the houses.

  They do their best, she said into Isika's mind. But it is insidious.

  She gave Isika pictures that flashed through her mind; of the insides of home that had people crying in the corners, arguments in the palace, kids who were lonely. She saw claw marks of the goddesses, the tracings of demon magic, people turning against one another in their hearts.

  They have been without their queen for a long time, the Shaper said.

  But I am just one girl, Isika told her.

  True, there is only one of you. But you should never be alone, for you are more than just one girl when you are together. You have Benayeem and Aria, yes, you have Aria, when Isika shook her head, you have Ibba, you have Kital. You even have Jabari and Gavi and Ivy. And more, you will find more. You are many, do not doubt, child. Do not doubt. It will take time. Learn now of my ways and do not try to be more than you are. Grow slowly, for this is the way of the great trees that do not fall when the winds come and beat against them.

  She pressed her face to the great animal's back and cried for who she had been and who she was now, and how she barely knew herself. Nenyi hummed and the richness of her voice sang through Isika, calming her.

  The dream faded and she sat up. The sky was black, filled with bright stars, and she was surprised to find that her face was wet with tears. She felt such loss and longing to return to the dream. She stood and walked toward the river, sitting alone on the bank. The stars were like thousands of sparks from a fire, clustered into shapes in the sky. She sat and let the breeze dry her tears, and then she walked back to the camp and joined the sleeping people on the ground, folding herself into her bedroll and falling into a deep sleep.

  CHAPTER 31

  Traveling upstream on the river took four days, instead of three. The boats sat lower in the water now that they had five extra people, but everyone took turns paddling and they made a light chore of it. Isika loved the days on the water. The strength and beauty of the river flowed around her, and the air grew slightly chilly as the season of cooling began, but not enough to be uncomfortable. Everyone was in great spirits, laughing and teasing each other. Now that Ivy was well Isika learned that she was the most spirited of them all. She never stopped making jokes or teasing people. Isika watched her, marveling at her. What would it be like to be so full of joy and self assurance? Maybe that was what it meant to grow up in Maween.

  Ivy, Jabari, Gavi, and Aria were all good friends, and sometimes in the evenings, after they had eaten and banked the fire, Ivram took out a little flute and played. The music that spooled out of his flute gave Isika chills, making her want to run or dance. Then Ivy and Gavi did jump up and dance. Sometimes they danced together with intricate, energetic steps Isika didn't know, and sometimes they danced freely side by side. Isika's soul was very full as she
watched them, especially when Kital left her lap to join them and his little body leapt around as though his soul might explode for joy.

  Sometimes, though, Isika had cavernous doubts about whether she belonged. She felt lonely and different, and wished she had come as someone normal, someone who could be easily folded into the Maweel, not as the descendant of a lost queen. She was isolated by who she was, even though it wasn't her fault.

  On their last night on the river, Ivy stopped dancing in the middle of a song.

  "That's it. It can't be just me and Gavi. Isika, Benayeem, Jabari, get over here. You too," she said to the other rescuers, but they shook their heads at her.

  "No way, Ivy. I know you. You'll get me doing some ridiculous dance where I look like an overgrown bird," said the one called Deto, the boy with the long black braid.

  "Not this time, I promise," Ivy said.

  "Yeah, no. You had your chance and you blew it."

  "I apologized about that! Anyway, Isika, you're coming. Jabari, get her and bring her over here."

  Jabari walked toward Isika and held out his hand. She shrank back, embarrassed, but when she looked into his eyes, he gave her a look of sympathy and said, "You might as well come, she won't leave us alone until you do. I should know. I grew up with her."

  In the end, it was Isika and Jabari and Gavi and Ivy. Ben had slipped off somehow, the wretch.

  "Dancing is forbidden in the Worker village," Isika said. "I have no idea what I'm doing."

  "It won't take long," Ivy replied breezily. "The music lives in you, I can tell. Not like Gavi. I've had the hardest time teaching him how to dance. It took years." Gavi shook his head and his shoulders, bumping Ivy with one of them.

  "I've always been glorious, don't listen to her," he said, grinning, and put his hands behind his head, shaking his hips from side to side.

  Isika burst out laughing.

  "There!" Ivy said. "That's the first rule of dancing. You need to have fun, so laughing is the first step. I'm going to ask my dad to play an old song, from before the queen was taken. It's a song of harvest, all about gratitude, so it's really happy. Dad?" she called. "You ready?" She turned to the rest of them. "This dance has steps, so watch me and Gavi. Or watch me, actually, Gavi will show you what not to do."

  Gavi cocked an eyebrow at her, then closed his eyes and swayed his shoulders back and forth.

  Ivram began a quick, light song on the flute, another that made Isika feel like bursting out of her skin, and Ivy and Gavi danced with intricate footwork that used their whole bodies. Isika tried to follow along, feeling completely unsure of herself, but ignoring the other people in the fire-lit circle. She especially ignored Jabari, who danced beside her. The music swelled until it was all around her, and moving her arms and legs and body with the sound was a new kind of joy. When she dared a glance at Ivy, the older girl nodded, approval in her eyes. Isika looked then at Jabari, who danced beside her as though he knew the steps perfectly. She narrowed her eyes at him, and he shrugged.

  "I grew up in the palace," he said. "Of course I know it."

  But Isika found that she didn't care. She didn't care about anything, actually, because the stars were bright overhead, the smoke from the fire smelled delicious, and Ivy was laughing and holding her hand out to Isika. They twirled and turned together there, above the riverbank, after days of fear that were finally over.

  Walking back into the city was at once a relief and a new worry. Isika knew they would all go their own ways, and she was nervous about what the others would tell Andar, and what would happen to her and her siblings. The dirt path became the wide paving stones of the city and she watched her feet walking on it, her new boots from Teru and Dawit. At least she would see Auntie and Ibba, no matter what else happened.

  People came out of their homes to greet the company and call out words of welcome, especially to the missing rescuers. They also called out a ritual greeting to Kital. "Welcome home little brother, heal well, rest well," they said over and over, walking out to touch his head or offer him some bread or a piece of fruit, so that his pockets were full and he had to hand many of the things he received to Isika. His face was full of wonder at the beauty of the city, the pure white and brilliant colors of the buildings, the flowers growing against anything that would hold them up, trailing over rooftops or arbors, dripping off fences.

  On the palace steps, Andar, Laylit and Karah stood waiting. Karah ran down the steps as soon as they came close, sprinting toward Ivram and Ivy, her red hair flying behind her, sobbing and laughing, catching them in her arms. Ibba was there too, and she ran toward Isika, hugging her fiercely.

  "I missed you," she said.

  "I missed you too, little sister. And I'm back now," Isika said. Then Ibba caught sight of Kital and the two of them grabbed onto each other and hugged the way little kids do, until the hug turned into a kind of wrestling match and Isika had to pull them apart, laughing. "Okay, okay you guys. Settle down."

  It was then, with her face full of laughter, that she looked up into the cold eyes of Laylit and felt the first shudder of unrest. Andar watched Isika thoughtfully as Ivram stood beside the two of them, speaking in a low voice that Isika couldn't hear.

  Andar raised his voice to address them. "How happy I am at this reunion," he said. "I know you are exhausted. Rest well, children. Tomorrow we will meet to discuss the happenings of your journey. Come midday to the palace and we will have a welcome dinner. For now, be at peace in your family's home."

  Isika sighed with relief, and, turning, found herself crushed against Auntie's well-padded shoulder.

  "Come home now, young one," she said, and Isika exhaled with relief. They climbed the steep hill to Auntie's house in a haze. Isika lay on her bed, and without even eating or bathing, fell into a deep sleep.

  She heard voices in the kitchen when she awoke, and sat up and stared around her wildly, in a haze. It came back slowly. She was fully clothed, she was in the room she shared with Ibba in Auntie and Uncle's home, and she smelled really good food. She grinned.

  Kital and Ibba were in the kitchen with Auntie, taking turns stirring something in a large bowl. Kital was covered in flour.

  "We're making morning flatcakes!" he said.

  "Or bathing in morning flatcakes," Dawit said, standing to greet Isika with a hand on her shoulder. She smiled at him and ducked her head, feeling shy.

  He held a book in one hand, and Isika stared at it. Of course she knew how to read, in the Worker village they were taught in school, and she had occasionally led the complicated chants in the temple, but she didn't had little experience with books. Her eyes flew to the shelf behind him and grew wide. There were dozens of books, maybe sixty or so, all standing on the shelf in an array of color. They were beautiful.

  Teru walked to where Isika stood and planted a kiss on her forehead. "Sit and eat, child, and then we'll get you ready for your day at the palace."

  Isika's heart sank. She was tired and ready for rest. She didn't want to go anywhere near Laylit's cold eyes. She sat obediently, holding her face over the hot cup of coffee Auntie handed her. Light streamed through the large windows on the other side of the kitchen, lighting up the bright curtains that rippled in the breeze. Isika looked at her cup thoughtfully, entranced again by the delicacy of the work. How could anyone make such a lovely thing?

  "Auntie, you said this was made in the city?" she asked.

  "Yes, the potter who made that is not far away."

  "I think I'd like to learn how to do this," she said, and she felt a rush of happiness as the words left her mouth—the idea that she could choose something to learn and do that thing. What else could she learn? How many things were there to discover? How many books were there to read? Ideas raced through her mind. She wanted to make pottery, but she would also like to learn how the light cloth of the tunics was made, and how the buildings were made out of earth.

  "You'll be learning and going out as an apprentice," Auntie told her. "I can speak with th
e potter for you."

  Uncle looked up from his book.

  "They'll be wanting to decide what the child does," he said.

  Isika felt as though he had thrown cold water on her. People had decided what she should learn her whole life. She'd had a moment of bliss as she imagined she could to pick for herself. She shrank into herself. But then Auntie spoke.

  "She can decide for herself, thank you very much," she said, bristling and slamming a pot down on the stone countertop harder than was necessary.

  Isika smiled, meeting Uncle's eyes wryly. Her heart lifted. It was good to know she had an ally in Teru, however undeserved. The older woman barely knew her. Isika admired what a wide, open heart she must have, to embrace others so quickly and easily. Maybe she could teach that to Isika as well.

  Ben shuffled into the room, rubbing his face, and joined the other three in eating pancakes and jam. His eyes were sleepy.

  "I'll never walk anywhere again," he said.

  "You'll have to," Isika said, "because you'll be carrying me."

  "How can you ever get anywhere if you don't walk?" Kital asked. "I'm going to walk around the whole world, and I'm going to be a cook like Gavi. He said I could. I made the fish with him, and he said I had a gift. Is cooking a real gift?"

  "It's a sort of gift," Auntie said agreeably.

  "An underrated gift," Uncle said from behind his book, and she blew him a kiss.

  Isika bathed and Auntie did her hair again, this time braiding it into eight braids, then weaving them around her head. She gave Isika another tunic and wide, soft pants. Isika sighed with pleasure when she put them on. They felt much better than her travel clothes, which had disappeared the moment she took them off, whisked away by Auntie to be washed, she supposed.