by J. M. Lee
“Knots-in-a-rope!” she cursed. “Now what?”
All that answered was the soft wind and the rustling of the field. There was no one to hear her frustration. No one except Neech, who merely yawned and tucked his face back under his wing. Even the mountains gazed on with seeming aloofness. With no blister-covered feet of their own to care for, they hardly had reason for sympathy.
Swallowing her frustration, Naia waded into the grass, standing over the sandals when she found them lying in a tangle in the brush. For a heartbeat, she fantasized about leaving them there and turning back. If she hurried, she could be at Great Smerth by sunset, have dinner in the great hall with her family, and tend to her wounded father all before curling up in her own hammock at the end of the night. She let herself imagine it briefly, plopping down in the grass and dirt, and drawing Gurjin’s dagger.
“If I go back, then who will go forward?” she asked it, half hoping it might connect her to her brother somehow. It didn’t reply, except to glint in the sun—and then she had it. Scooping the sandals into her lap, she used the knife to carve notches along the sides of the wood, just big enough to hold the rope in place. The fit was snug against her foot and ankle when all was done, and she stood and kicked, walked in a circle. Even after a lazy jog, the sandals stayed put.
She looked south toward Sog. Then, decisively, she headed in the other direction, new sandals clicking and clacking against the earth.
“Vas! Tamo, vas!”
Naia halted at the sound. No, words. Most definitely, but from where? She looked in all directions but saw nothing except grass and darkness. Then it came again, this time with a word she knew.
“Vas, Gelfling!”
The grass on her right rustled, then parted, revealing a round brown face with big black eyes.
Chapter 7
It was like a little Gelfling, with arms and legs, fingers and toes, but its head was wide where a Gelfling’s was long, and its nose was nothing but a rounded bump. A scraggly, thinning mess of red hair was pulled tight under a woven cap, and it wore a dirt-stained shift and a matching pair of trousers. In its chubby hand it held a gardening scoop.
“Gelfling!” it said again. When she didn’t respond, only stared dumbfounded, it cocked its head and asked, “Razumyety? Ya speak no Podling?”
Naia let out the breath she’d been holding and let her hand fall away from the dagger at her belt.
“No, I don’t. I only speak Gelfling.”
“Speak only Gelfling! Ha!” the brown man said. He bobbed his head up and down and laughed. “What ya doin’ out here? Why ya so green? I never seen a green Gelfling! Ya lookin’ for Sami? Ya look lost!” He laughed again, and it reminded Naia of her sisters giggling.
“I’m not looking for Sami,” Naia said, but hesitated. “I don’t know who she is.”
“She! Prostoduzan. Sami! Sami Thicket. The village.”
He pushed down the grass so he could see, though Naia was already tall enough to follow his pointing finger. A large thicket was near to the east. She’d seen it earlier, but paid it no mind. Now that the tuber-man was indicating it, though, she could see a thin curtain of smoke rising from beyond the trees and at least one small watchtower protruding from the leaves, well disguised to the untrained eye.
“Village?”
“Yeah, yeah, the village! Gelfling village!”
Naia’s heart leaped. A village! She hadn’t even thought of that. Of course there would be other Gelfling communities between Sog and Stone-in-the-Wood. Perhaps they could offer her a comfortable place to spend the night.
But then came the anxiousness. She had never met a non-Drenchen Gelfling before, except for Tavra, and that hadn’t gone particularly well. Tavra had been the outsider then, and this time . . . Naia’s stomach grumbled and she put her hand on her belly to quiet it. Swallowing her pride, she gave her thanks to the little man and headed toward the line of trees. He waved her off, laughing and muttering “prostoduzan” again, but if it were to tease her, he did it with a smile on his round little face.
As Naia neared the thicket, she came across more and more of the little people, all kneeling in the dirt with trowels and other gardening tools, digging up roots and crawlers from the earth. They watched her as she passed, though they didn’t really seem to care. Their inspection was casual and more out of curiosity than anything. When she reached the shade of the trees, she could clearly see the village within, nestled in the cluster of tall, well-maintained foliage and trunks. She heard talking and smelled cooking fires—then she saw them, two Gelfling, in embossed leather jerkins akin to what Naia might wear hunting, descending from the watchtower. They had dark brown skin and black hair kept in braids and threaded with beads. So these must be the Spriton. Many of the guards at the castle were Spriton, and Gurjin had mentioned their clan before—good with a bola and staff, tall and athletic. Yet with the way they approached, no weapon in hand, it seemed they might not have much need to defend the thicket on a daily basis. Perhaps this was the type of duty Gurjin would have preferred to the strict work he’d described at the castle—a duty he could well have done in Sog, while she donned the black-and-violet armor of a castle guard.
“Ho there, Gelfling!” one scout called. “Good travels. What brings you to Sami Thicket of the Spriton?”
“I am Naia, of the Drenchen of Sog,” she said.
“Sog?” he asked, and his nose wrinkled a little. He tried to wipe the expression from his face before Naia caught it, but it was too late.
“I’m heading north to Ha’rar. One of the little men pointed me here . . .” That much came easily, but she wasn’t sure where to go next. What had Tavra said, when she’d first arrived at the foot of Great Smerth? “I was hoping I might ask . . . the inconvenience . . . of your village’s hospitality.”
Though Naia had thought Tavra’s mode of speech to be flowery and unnecessary, whatever power the words held worked with the Spriton scouts. They looked her up and down, and finding her trustworthy enough, visibly relaxed. One even walked away, waving his hand and leaving the introduction to his partner. The remaining scout gestured and stepped aside.
“Go on, then. The Drenchen have been good border allies to us. See Maudra Mera in the square. But be quick, understand? We’re all a bit busy this evening.”
Naia bowed uncertainly before following his directions. A wood-slatted fence bordered either side of a wide dirt path that was worn through the thicket. As she neared the center, the dirt gave way to hard walking stones that echoed with clicks and clocks as she tread on them in her makeshift sandals.
Closer and closer to the village, she could hear voices and music. The fence gave way on either side to spears driven head-down into the earth. Streamers and ribbons wound and rippled in the gentle forest breeze. At the front gate to the village, the streamers became full-out banners and festival flags painted with the image of long-legged, wide-eared Landstriders in all colors. Naia wondered if the plains-galloping, forest-dwelling Landstrider was the totem of the Spriton clan, as the muski was that of the Drenchen.
Sami Thicket was robust, though not nearly as large as the Drenchen clan’s home near Great Smerth. It comprised one main dirt-packed road that formed a large square clearing at the center of the village, where a fire pit was dug and smoldered with coal and wood. Surrounding the square were huts and dwelling mounds, some multiple stories, all formed of clay and stone and wood with round windows built into the sides. The rainproof coverings of shingles reminded Naia of the scales on the ymir-fish she used to catch with Gurjin when they were young.
Spriton Gelfling intermingled with the little people, some chatting, some arguing, some laughing, most working. Once in a while, a shadow flickered overhead as a Gelfling girl flew from one rooftop to another, landing softly before ducking in through a roof hatch. Bustling back and forth across the square, Spriton carried baskets of fruit and nuts, and al
l around the square, the Spriton erected elaborately decorated banner poles, wound with more ribbons, climbing vines, and huge blossoming flowers. At the opposite end of the square was a large mound of clay brick and heavy logs, far too large to be a single dwelling. Naia wondered if it was the Spriton’s gathering place, just like Smerth’s great hall back home.
Overwhelmed by the new sights and sounds, Naia stood immobilized, unsure where to begin. The Spriton gave her no mind except the occasional glance, more intent on their preparations. She twice stepped out of the way of a hurrying worker, the first carrying an armful of tinder and the second with a beautifully embroidered cloth, which she flung with grace over one of the several large feasting tables near the center of the square. Naia’s stomach groaned again, and she adjusted her cloak and pack, held her chin up, and tried to look respectable as she approached a nearby Gelfling boy seated on a stone. Like the other Spriton, he had skin the color of dark umber and a long thick black braid that nearly reached the ground when he was sitting. He stared intently into his open hands and jumped when Naia cleared her throat. He closed his hands just before Naia could spy what was in them, and her curiosity overcame her original intention to ask about the Spriton maudra, and instead she asked, “What are you doing?”
His startled green eyes brightened like a leaf with the sun shining through it. He was tall but thin, slender where other Spriton his age were growing into their athletic way of life. Where the scouts at the entrance to the thicket had worn and callused hands, this boy’s fingers were artful, woven together in his lap. The moment of quiet that nibbled at the end of Naia’s question dangled like a blindfish on a line, and the boy suddenly gave a little cough and opened his hands, responding simply, “A nut.”
Lying in his palms were two halves of a split nut. The outer shell was tan, with the inside nearly white. At the center was a red seed, and in the meat between the seed and the shell were thin green lines in concentric waving circles and ovals. The patterns were a perfect mirror, identical on both sides. It was interesting, but only to a point.
“Ah,” she said, trying to be polite. She’d been the one asking, after all. “I’m wondering if you could direct me to your maudra.”
The boy cleared his throat and pocketed the nut, ears turning back in embarrassment.
“Oh, of course,” he said. “Maudra Mera is at the hearth.”
He pointed to the cooking fire at the village center, visible below a whisping plume of smoke that twisted lazily into the sky. There, an older Gelfling was seated, surrounded by children as she gave instruction to the two boys who were much closer to the fire, holding forked branches over the smoldering flame.
“Thanks,” Naia said. “Um . . . enjoy your nut.”
She left the boy to his own business, following his direction and her nose. She smelled food, and as she drew closer, she could see that there were roasting cherry-squashes on each of the forked prongs. Her mouth watered at the sweet rich scent of the cooking fruit as she listened to the maudra call out orders across the square, directing the Spriton that dashed around like busy scully-bugs.
“You Drenchen always know how to be in the right place at the most inconvenient of times, don’t you?” said the maudra as Naia approached. She smiled, though a bit coldly, and held out her hand as Naia had seen her mother do. Naia took the maudra’s hand and focused to keep from dreamfasting by accident. “Welcome to my Sami Thicket. I am Mera of the Spriton. Are you here with your mother? Naia, isn’t it? You look just like old Laesid!”
“No, Maudra,” Naia said, startled that Maudra Mera might recognize her as the daughter of the Drenchen clan’s maudra, much less know her name. “I mean, no, I’m not with my mother—yes, my name is Naia. I was traveling to Ha’rar with my father, but he was injured, so now I bear his journey alone.”
“Injured! That’s just like Bellanji. Well, you are a brave girl to continue alone— Lun! Not so close, don’t you see it’s smoking? They must be perfect! If it burns, I’ll see you eat it yourself!”
Naia watched Lun pull the fork farther from the fire and yearned for the squash, even if it was singed. She tried Tavra’s approach once more, as it had worked so well with the scouts.
“Maudra Mera, I was hoping for the hospitality of—”
“Of course,” Maudra Mera said. “I couldn’t very well say no, though the night couldn’t be worse . . . Well, what’s there to do about it. Lucky girl, though. The Podlings harvested the cherry-squash for tonight, and if these boys don’t burn them to crisps, we’ll have more than even the lords can eat.”
“Oh, thank you—” Naia began. Then the blood drained from her face. “The lords?”
Maudra Mera let out a big sigh and waved her hand.
“Yes, my little soggy one, the lords. For the census. Now listen, they’ll arrive soon, so if you’re going to be here in the evening, I’ll need you to help prepare, and then when they arrive, stay out of the way.”
Naia’s heart beat with excitement and with a little pinch of awe-inspired fear. Only one council of creatures on Thra might be called lords by a Gelfling Maudra. They were coming to Sami Thicket? How lucky! To think, only her second day outside of Sog and she was going to see the Skeksis Lords with her very own eyes.
“Of course!” she exclaimed. “I’d love to help!”
“Good girl, then I’ll give you a place to start. There’s a stream just outside the village to the east. Please see to it that you bathe before supper, would you? You smell of Sog, and I wouldn’t want anyone’s appetite ruined.”
Chapter 8
The stream was just outside the village limits, a small trickling thing that was big enough to leap over, should she have a running start. Even at its deepest, the water came up only to her thighs, so she left her clothes, pack, and sandals in sight and sat on a half-submerged rock to let the cold river water run over her. In the swamp, most water was slow and sluggish, full of life. Here, it was quick and so clear, she could see the pebbles and sand at the river floor. Though it gave her a chill, the cool water felt refreshing on her feet, washing away the dirt and pieces of grass that clung to her skin. Neech sniffed the streaming ripples once before puffing up his spines and gliding away to the safety of the riverbed, cowering under the folds of her rumpled cloak.
Naia slipped into the water and knelt so it ran over her shoulders, splashing her face and taking a sip to quench her thirst. Finally, she tilted her head back and fully submerged herself, letting her gills open and taking a big drink.
After she felt clean enough—she hoped—she dressed and squeezed her locs until they were dry. Bathing was largely unnecessary in the swamp, as most of the time the Drenchen were in and out of the water all day long. Naia raised an arm and gave herself a sniff—she didn’t smell that bad. But if it was Spriton custom and Maudra Mera asked it, she would do it. Embarrassing the Spriton in front of the lords was the last thing she wanted to do, especially as someone who would one day be maudra.
She shivered again as she made her way back toward the village, picturing the towering Skeksis with their rings and scepters, gathered in their gargantuan castle. Though she had never seen one, Gurjin had described their feather-adorned mantles and ruby-coated jewelry and gilt crowns encrusted with precious gems. Though they were lords over all of Thra, it seemed they had a particular interest in the Gelfling over other creatures. Gurjin had remarked that they were willing to pay heed to even the poorest or meekest of their race. Their council ruled Thra with a strong hand, full of wealth and bounty that they shared with the Gelfling through All-Maudra Mayrin. They had given the Gelfling people technology for agriculture, for mining, for inventions from wind ships to wheelbarrows. It seemed only proof of their protectorship. They were guardians of the Castle of the Crystal and the keepers of the Heart of Thra, yet they were coming all the way here, to little Sami Thicket, tonight.
What kind of faces did the lords bear? She had he
ard of their long black plumes and ebony beaks, and their omnicient-seeming intelligent eyes. Gurjin had spoken of hardly anything else when he’d last visited. The lords looked straight through you and into you, he’d said. As if they saw a universe inside.
Naia’s heart gave an uncomfortable squirm, thinking of her brother. He’d been so full of pride before, telling the stories and filling her with envy, but now he was nowhere to be found.
The Great Sun had all but set, taking the Rose Sun with it, as she returned to the Thicket square. The village was gathering at the center hearth for dinner under the open sky. The roasted cherry-squashes were cut into slices, skewered on sticks, and set on wood trays beside diced roots, leafy greens, and bowls full of fruit. The Podlings scurried around with the Gelfling children, carrying dishes from the hearth to the serving table. A small band played on lutes and forked firca, though they had only a single drum. Only the music filled the square, as the rest of the Gelfling whispered anxiously among one another, many standing to the side and holding wrapped baskets and bundles of gifts.
All around, the villagers appeared, each with an offering to add to the table. Her stomach growled and she put a hand over it, hoping it would stay quiet while she waited behind two athletic Spriton girls with smooth ebony hair done in beautiful loops and braids, accented with feathers. Their open-backed bodices let their wings show, long and narrow for speed and agility, whereas Drenchen wings were shorter and webbed, better used for gliding and swimming in the deep of the swamp. Naia swallowed a little sigh and turned her eyes to the front of the square, where Maudra Mera was pacing back and forth, shouting last-minute orders and waving a gnarled old staff back and forth. The maudra was robed in a voluminous cloak that ballooned around her thin body. With the staff in addition, she looked like an overturned cup-flower caught in a wind eddy. A gentle giggle chimed like a chorus of bells from the lovely Spriton girls, and Naia smiled with them—until she realized their mirthful eyes weren’t on Maudra Mera, but on Naia’s feet. Naia looked down; both of the Spriton wore dainty tailored shoes, beaded and strapped to their slender ankles with dyed leather. When the girls saw they had been noticed, they covered their giggles and moved elsewhere. Flushed with embarrassment, Naia quietly slipped off her sandals and hid them in her pack.