Way Walkers: Tangled Paths (The Tazu Saga)

by Leigh, J.

  “Actually, that’s not what’s really bothering me.” Jathen toyed with his bed sheet then met his friend’s eyes. “What concerns me is what he’s saying, what he’s asking for. My help. Me. The Talentless Wretch is going to help the likes of him? How? I’ve not a fraction of his Ability or skills or anything even resembling usefulness to someone of his caliber.”

  “Well, maybe it’s not that type of help, Jath,” Ass’shiri said. “Maybe it’s political.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of, that he’ll need me to help him convince my mother or Kyanith of something. Spirit, Ass! For me, trying to get some leverage in the Tazu court is even more impossible than gaining wings!”

  Ass’shiri made a sucking sound through his fangs. “For someone who’s got the bastard Ability going for him, you sure do think in linear terms.”

  “Huh?”

  “I mean you are interpreting that vision based on what’s true now, on who you are now, not the you from whenever this will happen. For all you know, this request Mikkal makes might not be for another ten years or something. Maybe more. Maybe you are the ruddy king by then.” He snickered at Jathen’s astounded expression. “Didn’t think of that, did you?”

  “No,” Jathen admitted, awash in self-reflective awe. “I hadn’t.”

  “Of course not.” Ass’shiri snorted. “But what we should be thinking of is how the ruddy blazes we got this far south, and how in the Pit we’re going to find the rest of the party once Mikkal is so kind as to assist us back up to Pilgrims’ Road.”

  “True.” Jathen sighed, staring up at the pattern woven through the material of the bunk’s underside. “Do you really think they’re okay?”

  “Hatori is too damn stubborn to die, if that’s what you mean.” Ass’shiri chuckled. “And Jephue is too attached to him to go dying without him. As for Setsuken, Esop, Cy’shā, and Hkym, they really are damn good Walkers, Jath. They’ll not have met their end because of a little water.”

  “It was a lot more than ‘a little water.’ It was more than it should have been.”

  “Yeah, that worries me, too.” Ass’shiri pulled his head back and settled onto his bunk. “But we can’t do anything for them now, and if they were here, they’d yell at us for wasting energy on it. Get some rest, Jath. Spirit knows I need it, so I can imagine your moot butt is dragging by now.”

  “Thanks, Ass.” Jathen kicked the underside of the bed again before closing his eyes.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Chapter 24

  The Iki sang.

  Ethereal notes once again stirred Jathen from his slumber. The reverberating hum seemed to come from all around the moonlit room. Rising, he looked for Ass’shiri, only to find his companion’s bed empty. He checked his clothes, but they were still rank smelling, so he dressed in some of the fresh Iki clothing.

  In the hallway, he followed the sounds of activity and turned into a larger room where a multitude of Iki women worked, pounding with mortars and pestles. Young Iki scrambled around on the floor, keening in their incomprehensible language. They ceased their activity, staring at him in mute interest.

  “Pardon me,” he said. “But have any of you seen my friend Ass’shiri?”

  The small crowd blinked at him with their dual set of eyelids.

  “Neek?” he tried.

  They pointed at one of the many vine-covered archways leading from the room, and Jathen nodded his thanks. On the other side, he found a balcony overlooking the heart of the village. Neek stood with her face upturned to the canopy like a night-blooming blossom in moonlight. She sang, the tones haunting in their complexity. He waited until she was done before greeting her with a simple compliment.

  “Thank you,” she said softly. “Though my song is not as it should be.”

  “How so?”

  She gestured to her face. “Can you not tell? I am only half Iki, and so my voice lacks certain sounds.”

  “Well, it sounded beautiful to me. And you look just the like the others to me, if you don’t mind my saying.”

  Neek’s lips danced with a smile that did not fully bloom. “Thank you again, Jathen.”

  “Welcome.” He peered over the railing at the splendor of the forest. “Would you happen to know where my Walker friend is?”

  “Your Clan friends are off Feeding.”

  “Ah. Is it true what you said, that the Iki can’t Feed them?”

  “Yes. We have red blood cells, but they are not alone in our bloodstream. There are other cells to carry carbon dioxide. This is bitter-tasting and unsatisfying for Clan. Even my half blood is diluted.”

  “Huh.”

  Neek did smile then. “You are wondering how a half blood came to live in an Iki village, and how it is I am as educated as I am, living in the middle of the forest.”

  “Actually, now I’m thinking you’re a Telepath.”

  “Maybe just a little, as well as a Precognitive. But it is a logical question. The answer to both is my mother. She is a Walker, trained in Tar’citadel, where she met my father, who was human. We returned here to her childhood home when he died.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I was very young. I do not have many memories of him.”

  “Some are better than none. Still, it must have been difficult.”

  “It is always difficult,” she murmured, her green eyes locking onto his with a knowing gaze, “being different.”

  A silent moment passed between them, and Jathen felt the calm recognition of a kindred spirit. With an unexpected shift forward, Neek kissed his lips. It was just a touch really, a taste, and it was over almost before he’d registered she’d done it. She pulled away with a gasp, seeming startled and completely mystified by her own action.

  Jathen ignored his own surprise in the wake of hers. “What?”

  “You... I thought...” Neek touched her lips, as if reflecting on his taste. Looking bewildered and a touch sad, she said, “Forgive me. It is hard to explain. You... blaze, Jathen Monortith.”

  “Blaze?”

  “Yes, your aura. It’s like a brilliant flame in my eyes, and I thought, perhaps....” She shook her head. “But no. You are meant for another.”

  Thoroughly bewildered, he asked, “Another what?”

  “Another love,” she said with a bittersweet air. “One of the odd side effects of my precognition Ability. For some reason, I can identify those who will find that one true love in their lifetime. Every now and again, I hope I have come across the one meant for me.”

  He blinked at her. “So you thought I...”

  She nodded. “For a moment. But it was in your kiss—you are meant for another. A Tazu.” She squinted as if to better identify the premonition. “Who isn’t quite a Tazu.”

  Jathen snorted. “I very much doubt I’ll wind up with a Tazu. No pure-blood in her right mind would have a moot.”

  Neek shrugged. “As I said, a Tazu who is not quite a Tazu. My prophecies are not always clear, but they are usually correct. I am sorry if I offended.”

  “No, not really.” A stab of sadness struck him, an unexpected disappointment. Neek might not be a Tazu, but she had her own beauty, a foreign and interesting appeal supplemented by intelligence and sweetness. “If anything, I’m gratified by the compliment… and a little sorry.”

  She patted his hand with her cool rubbery palms. Her touch was not unpleasant but notably different from a Tazu’s. “I am a little sorry too, Jathen. You took so quickly to my people here, so quickly saw the beauty of this place, of our voices. It was a valid hope.”

  “If it’s any consolation, I meant all of it. But ultimately, I wouldn’t have stayed. I might appreciate the beauty, but”—he wrinkled his nose—“this jungle seems to want to eat me most days.”

  She giggled. “And you
have other responsibilities. I can see that now.”

  “Yeah,” he said, feeling the pinch of it all. “I do.”

  Neek led Jathen back into the main room, where the women served him some food. Iki fare turned out to be completely vegetarian but resoundingly savory. Neek kept him company, talking about their respective cultures and, oddly enough, Lost in the Landscape, which she had read recently as well. He was halfway through his third helping of the thick savory sauce and herb-infused leafy greens and his story about meeting the Drannic when Ass’shiri and Mikkal returned. “Good hunting?” he asked them.

  “All right,” Ass’shiri responded as he sniffed at Jathen’s plate. “Mikkal tells me Iki don’t eat meat and are loath to cook it.”

  Jathen waggled the plate of greens at his friend. “It’s good, better than I imagined it could be.”

  Ass’shiri relented and got a plate of food, while Mikkal graciously declined and took his leave. Ass’shiri took a tentative bite of the greens. He winced but managed to swallow the bite. Then he took another and another, seemingly intent on finishing the serving, despite his obvious dislike of it. Neek smirked but didn’t comment.

  Jathen turned to her. “Any word from the Near-Siders about our friends?”

  “Yes, actually. They claim to be holding a space for them about half a day’s walk north.”

  “What on the continent does that mean?” Jathen asked. “They aren’t dead or anything, are they?”

  Neek shook her head. “I don’t think so. But I’m not entirely certain, either. Native Near-Siders are odd at best, and the deep jungle ones are notoriously so.”

  Ass’shiri put down his fork. “What do you suggest we do?”

  “I know the area they are speaking of. It’s an open plain of standing stones we Iki use for gatherings. It will not be difficult to find, and at the very least, the marker is common enough that your friends might be able to find it.”

  “This far south?” Jathen asked. “I don’t know.”

  “Worth a try, I think,” Ass’shiri said. “We’ll use Mikkal’s Veil-sliding in the morning and make our way there. If nothing happens, we’ll see if he can teleport us up the rest of the way to Pilgrims’ Road, then we can part ways there.”

  “You suddenly seem more eager to be rid of Mikkal,” Jathen said softly. “Something I should know?”

  “Nothing concrete, just a feeling.” He eyed Jathen. “He asked about you while we were out.”

  “About what, specifically?”

  “Like I said, nothing concrete, nothing untoward, but still…” Drumming his fingers on the table, his light eyes turned introspective for a moment, but then he shrugged. “Like I said, just a feeling.”

  “There is a great deal of abuse in your companion’s past,” Neek whispered. “I do not mean to intrude, but perhaps this is what you sense.” She smiled at Ass’shiri. “That and I suppose your feeling toward me is complimentary enough you felt secure to speak freely in my presence.”

  “Let me put it this way”—Ass’shiri winked at her—“I’ve no qualms leaving you alone with my friend Jathen.” Ass’shiri sobered. “Mikkal though… well, you might be right. Lan’chi is Mannachi blood, and the possibility of abuse is high, given that clan’s reputation.”

  “Well, either way, we’ll be gone from him by tomorrow,” Jathen said.

  “If you like, I could accompany the three of you up to the standing stones,” Neek offered. “I cannot say I would do well in a fight against such a Talent, but one would certainly be less inclined to cause mischief when there are three witnesses instead of two.”

  “I think if Mikkal wanted us dead, he’d have let the flower leeches take us out,” Ass’shiri said. “But I’m still happy to take you up on the offer, if it’s no inconvenience.”

  “I would not have offered if it were.” She smiled, rising. “It’s settled then. Finish your meals, gentlemen, and I’ll have baths drawn for you. Afterward, you can get some more rest, and come morning, we’ll set out for the standing stones.”

  Jathen looked up at her. “Thank you so much, Neek.”

  “It is nothing.” She affectionately squeezed his shoulder before departing.

  Ass’shiri watched her walk out then smirked at Jathen.

  “What?” Jathen asked.

  “Nothing, just proud of you is all.” Ass’shiri snickered.

  “Cull the praise because nothing happened.” Jathen felt his ears turning red. “Apparently, I’m not for her, as it were.”

  “And for you to know that, something must have happened. So I’m still proud of you.”

  Morning dawned soft and hazy through a slowly unfurling fog. The effect of the filtered light left Jathen suspended between sleep and consciousness despite having been up and dressed for over an hour. Waiting outside with Neek and Ass’shiri, he nibbled on one of the crispy baked goods Neek had brought them for breakfast.

  Another stab of envy surfaced as the Gray appeared amid them via teleport, bright eyed in the artificial twilight. “Are you ready to depart, my friends?” Mikkal asked.

  Jathen managed to avoid a direct response by biting into the fruit-infused pastry, merely nodding as he chewed the sweet-and-tart meal.

  “Good man.” Mikkal grinned wider, patting Jathen on the shoulder. He turned to Ass’shiri and Neek. “All of us, then?”

  “If it’s not a trouble,” Ass’shiri responded.

  “Shouldn’t be,” Mikkal said, though Jathen detected some hesitance to his words. “But we will see. Gather around me, please, and lock arms.”

  They formed a circle around Mikkal and looped arms. Unfortunately, they only continued to stand there.

  “Something wrong?” Ass’shiri asked.

  “Hmm.” Mikkal seemed puzzled, his eyes fixed on Jathen, who stood directly across from him. “I believe I may have overestimated my capacity to transfer four instead of three. It looks as though we shall be walking a bit more after all. My apologies.”

  “That’s too bad,” Ass’shiri said, looking as crestfallen as Jathen felt. “I’ve never been Veil-sliding before. I wanted to try it something awful.”

  “Well, I could manage one or two of you, most likely. But then I’d need to rest and return for the other.”

  Jathen asked hopefully, “How long a rest?”

  “Quite a bit, several hours at least.”

  A few covert glances were exchanged among Jathen, Neek, and Ass’shiri, but finally Ass’shiri nodded. “We might as well just walk it.” He grinned knowingly at Jathen, prodding him with an elbow. “Come on, Moot. It’ll be good for you.”

  “That’s what you said about the crossbow, Ass,” Jathen muttered.

  “Hey, you healed.”

  The spring rains drizzled across the canopy, but Neek led them down hidden, partially covered trails with ease. She kept them safe and, along with the water-resistant Iki clothing, comparatively dry. Pointing out various blooms, fungi, mosses, and ferns, she kept Mikkal close to her side, leaving Jathen and Ass’shiri to trail behind and talk in relative privacy.

  “You still think he’s a problem?” Jathen asked quietly.

  “Not sure.” Ass’shiri eyed Mikkal, who was busy asking questions about the care of certain plants in a greenhouse environment. “Perhaps she was right. Maybe it’s just his past that irked me before.”

  “And to think we would have missed out on this lovely stroll through the woods otherwise.”

  “Meh, you like seeing more of Neek, and you know it. Though it was odd, a Talent being so uncertain of his Ability.”

  “How so?”

  “If you had as much power as he does, wouldn’t you know exactly what you could do with it? Right down to the number of people you can Veil-slide?”

  Jathen nodded, grim. “You’re right, I wou
ld.”

  The trees thinned, and they entered a large clearing where five-story-tall white megaliths towered like unnatural specters amid the green of the jungle. They reminded Jathen of the wardstones at the border, but smaller, sleeker, and arranged in two circles, one inside the other. At the center of the inner circle was a round slab of more white stone.

  “Wow,” Ass’shiri breathed. “You feel this, Jath?”

  “Yes,” Jathen replied softly, laying a bare hand on the smooth face of the closest stone. He couldn’t identify the material, but he felt the buzz of an unknown magical force all the way down through his chest. Removing his hand, he shivered as his coat snapped in a sudden sharp breeze. “What is this place, Neek?”

  “I have no idea, not really.” She sat beside one of the stones of the outer ring. Mikkal strolled on the center slab, hands clasped behind his back as he followed the patterns carved into the round tablet. She watched him for a moment then turned back to Jathen. “The Near-Siders say this is one of the places where the Nijū-Iki were born. As a people, we’ve used the stones for years as a gathering place and solar calendar, but beyond that, I don’t know.” She shrugged then opened her pack and pulled out a wrapped bundle of the fruit pastries.

  Mikkal returned to stand with them as they ate. “There is an incredible amount of warding energy at play here, along with something else too erratic to identify. Perhaps an ancient teleportation point whose magic has eroded over time.”

  Ass’shiri nodded. “Like the Great Gates.”

  “Gates?” Neek asked.

  “Unlike Veil-sliding, in order to teleport, one needs to have an exact destination in mind in order to reach it,” Mikkal explained. “In Tar’citadel, there is a Great Gate that serves as one such marker.”