“I’m older than your grandmother, young lady.”
She gave him a flat look. “What would you suggest? Tell her to leave me alone? Insult her so harshly she bursts into tears and vows never to love again?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m just not…” He didn’t know how to finish, didn’t want to admit that he wasn’t ready for another person to join his life, to join Samira’s life. As Dillon would have said, they had a good thing going.
“I know how to care for my own heart, Simon, and I know what to do with someone else’s.” She poked him in the arm. “Including those stubborn friends who don’t tell me their powers are returning.”
He sighed and slumped, feeling tired all of a sudden. He reached for his powers and let their sluggish flow fill him, cleansing her fatigue as well.
She stretched again. “I can’t say I’m sorry for that. How long have you known?”
“I wouldn’t let myself suspect, or I never would have suggested we go to Celeste. I didn’t put two and two together until yesterday.”
She nodded. “And then it was too late.”
“It was foolish. I’m sorry.”
“Too late for regrets.” She gave him a one-armed hug. “Use your powers to help my paramour, and let’s get going.”
Simon did as she said, and Mamet stared at Samira with wide eyes again. “Truly,” she said, “you are more powerful than the sun and moon combined. And you’re twice as lovely.”
Samira chuckled. “Thank you, but that wasn’t me.”
She looked to Simon. “Both of you?”
“We don’t use our abilities to capture people and make them do our bidding, though,” Simon said.
Mamet nodded. “My clan will be anxious to meet you.”
Not too anxious, Simon hoped, though he had no doubt that if it came to an escape, he and Samira could get away from a group of people who had no abilities to speak of, especially since they’d already succeeded in getting away from two of the most powerful people on Calamity. How much trouble could a group of nomads get them into?
The next morning, they reached a camp made up of hide tents, ossor pens, and a few of the large geavers. Simon and Samira waited while Mamet entered the camp first, and as she did, a man and woman drew her into a frantic embrace. Parents probably. It made Simon sigh to see it. He didn’t often think of his family, but even at their happiest or saddest, they’d never thrown their arms around one another.
Mamet led the couple closer. “Maman, Fatan, these are Samira and Simon. They helped me escape.”
The couple put their hands over their hearts and bowed. Mamet had a mix of their features and shared both dark hair and eyes. And they were probably the reason she couldn’t hide her emotions. They hugged everyone as they led the way into the camp, and Simon fought down the urge to shrug them off and run for it.
“You’ll be welcome here until the sun no longer rises,” Mamet’s mother said.
“And what of the others?” her father asked. “Are they alive?”
“Some,” Mamet said softly. “The others are still prisoners. We had to run when Simon and Samira attacked the Sun-Moon gods.”
People were already gathering, and at these words, murmurs started in earnest.
“You have to meet Chafa Yuve,” Mamet said. “He’ll want to hear the story.”
They were led to a tent, a respite from the sun and crowd. Simon used his power to try to calm himself, but the feelings of everyone around him beat at his shields.
Samira sat between him and the door as if shielding him with her body. “Say the word,” she whispered, “and we’re out of here.”
He nodded and squeezed her hand. When Mamet’s parents served tea, Simon sipped the bitter liquid and tried not to grimace, using his power to numb his tongue. How quickly he fell back into old patterns. He’d thought his nerves had gotten better since he’d left Gale. He’d been in crowded villages and among strangers, and at first his anxiety troubled him, but as he and Samira traveled farther east, it seemed to fade.
Maybe the anxiety came with the power. He’d always been anxious, so he’d never thought the two related until now. He’d been pressured to excel when young, pushed into a degree in biology when all he wanted was botany, and he’d nearly driven himself crazy trying to study both at once, but he’d managed it. Going to a far-flung colony in space had drawn him as the perfect escape, but then he’d spent over two centuries on the Atlas, and seeing to the needs of Dillon and other egomaniacs hadn’t helped him.
He tried to shake the memories off. His anxiety was back because it was a stressful time; that was all. He’d nearly been kidnapped. Again. He had to warn Horace of danger, and that wasn’t going to be a pleasant conversation, and he was wandering closer to Dillon’s territory. Anyone would have been nervous.
Samira was chatting to Mamet’s parents while Mamet stared worshipfully. When Samira glanced at her tea, Mamet’s mother nudged the father and then nodded at Mamet and Samira with a knowing smile. The father raised his hands slightly and shook his head, but he wore a little smile, too. Wonderful. Mamet’s parents thought she’d made a match. The last thing Simon needed was the smitten plains dweller following Samira and him around like a lost puppy.
A young woman poked her head into the tent flap. “The chafa is coming,” she said before ducking out.
Mamet and her parents stood. “Chafa Yuve has been looking for all of you,” Mamet’s mother said. “We’ll greet him with the others.” She waved at Simon and Samira to stay put. “A proper introduction is always made indoors.” With another smile, Mamet and her family left.
Samira picked up her teacup. “Sounds important.”
“How can you drink that stuff?”
“It’s an acquired taste.”
“I bet people would say the same if they had to drink their own urine.” He drummed his fingers on his knees. “Did you see the look between Mom and Dad?”
“Yep.”
“Thoughts?”
She shrugged. “She’s cute enough.” He gave her a dark look, and she chuckled. “I told you. The best you can do about a crush is wait. We’ll be gone soon.”
“And if she’s so struck that she follows us?”
“You think her parents will follow, too, and guilt me into marrying her? Or do you think she’ll carry me off in the night like in those old raiding tales?”
He snorted. “Only if she wants to find herself knocked across the plains.”
“Exactly. Think about when you were nineteen. The more people told you not to do something, the more you wanted it, right?”
Wrong. He remembered caving to anyone with a will stronger than his, which seemed to be everyone at the time. “Maybe you should break her heart, tell her she’s not good enough for you.”
She gave him a long look.
He smiled. “But you’d never do that to anyone, even to save them.”
“If anyone ever needs me to hurt them like that in order to save them, we’re in too much trouble already.”
He began a retort, but Mamet’s parents stepped back in. “Chafa Yuve of the Engali,” Mamet’s father said. He held the tent flap open, and a short man entered. With such an impressive title, Simon expected tall and forbidding, but Yuve walked with a bowlegged shuffle that spoke of many years atop an ossor. A quick scan placed him near sixty, but Simon could have read that in his face, as brown and lined as a well-weathered boot. He had a permanent squint, and the hair poking out from beneath his broad brimmed leather hat was as white as his beard. His dark eyes glittered with intelligence as he studied everyone.
“These are Simon and Samira,” Mamet’s mother said, gesturing to them in turn.
He put a hand to his chest. “Thank you for aiding one of my clan.”
“Mamet aided us, too,” Simon said. If they weren’t being touted as the only heroes, maybe Yuve would sooner see them go. The last thing he wanted was to be pulled further into a conflict between the plains dwellers and the Sun-Moon w
orshipers.
Mamet beamed, and Yuve nodded to her. “A pity you couldn’t save everyone.”
“They’re alive,” Mamet said. “Waiting.”
Yuve sat, and the rest of them followed. Mamet passed around more of the cursed tea. Simon pretended to sip his, waiting for the first chance to get away. Yuve rubbed his own back, but Simon resisted the urge to ease his hurts, not knowing how he might react.
“We’ve lived in peace with the Sun-Moon people for many years,” Yuve said, “but when their gods came, a sort of bloodthirst began among them. But I’ve learned they might not have been the aggressors. The Svenal, who live far to the south, have been attacking Sun-Moon villages.” He shrugged. “Who knows who struck first?”
“Raiding again instead of trading?” Samira asked.
He swirled the tea in his cup. “Rumor says they steal children.”
Everyone glanced at one another, frowning.
“When we searched for you,” Yuve said, “we met survivors from such an attack. Any adults who weren’t hunting were killed, the children taken.”
“Why?” Mamet’s mother asked.
Yuve shrugged and shook his head.
Simon thought back to everything the Sun-Moon had said, but they hadn’t mentioned any preemptive attack or stolen children. They’d spoken as if eradicating non-believers was their plan in the first place. But why would anyone take children? No one that he’d met practiced slavery or the like. Maybe they were trying to wipe out the other denizens of Calamity but drew the line at killing children? A genocide wasn’t complete until all your enemy’s genes were dead.
“Whatever their reasons, the Sun-Moon won’t stop,” he said, feeling he should at least warn these people about what might be coming. “And once they’ve taken care of everyone close, they might reach out this far.”
“But you bested them once,” Mamet said.
“We were lucky,” Samira added before Simon could say he wasn’t anyone’s bodyguard.
“Perhaps if the Svenal are quieted,” Mamet said, “the Sun-Moon won’t be so anxious to attack everyone else. There can be peace!”
“Not until you find out why the Svenal want kids,” Simon muttered.
“And how will you find out, friend Simon?” Yuve asked.
He was staring, and so were Mamet’s parents. Simon nearly cursed. “I didn’t…” He trailed away, trying to think of a way out, but it seemed the perfect excuse to leave quickly, before the Engali expected him to solve all their problems, and if he stumbled on the reason for the Svenal’s abductions, he could always send word back. “I won’t know until I ask!”
They glanced at one another again, and Samira patted Simon’s knee. “Maybe they’ll tell us if they think we can help them,” she said. “If word spreads about how we got away from the Sun-Moon, we might be able to convince the Svenal that we’re on their side.”
Yuve leaned back, scratching his beard. “My new friends seem very helpful.”
“We’re not being altruistic,” Simon said quickly. “We’re travelers, Samira and I, and we can’t go where we want as long as the fighting continues. And if we solve this problem, maybe even the Sun-Moon will see we’re more valuable free than in captivity.”
Yuve nodded as if that made sense.
“I’ll go too,” Mamet said in the sudden silence. When everyone looked to her, she held her chin up. “When we find something out, I’ll ride back to tell everyone.”
“I don’t think—” Simon began just as Samira started to say, “It might not be safe.”
Yuve held up a hand. “Then it’s settled.” He stood, and everyone followed suit. “We’ll ready mounts and supplies for the morning.” He paused before stepping outside. “If the Sun-Moon are looking for you, it’s better for us if you’re not here anyway.” He grinned. “Don’t worry. We’ll claim we never met you.”
When he left, Simon resisted the urge to curse again. Mamet was still there, beaming at them, and now Simon had to find a way to get rid of her before he got to Horace. Their lives were complicated enough already.
*
The night before their journey began, Samira watched with amusement as Simon tried every tactic to rid them of Mamet. Several times he mentioned that the Svenal might be more receptive to outsiders without another plains dweller present. Whether he believed that or not, Samira didn’t know. One by one, he tried many different arguments, showing every emotion from fearful to frosty, but Mamet brushed it all off with a sea of unrelenting optimism.
She also never seemed to tire of casting amorous glances Samira’s way. Samira still believed most crushes would go away on their own, but when her second day of ignoring Mamet’s bursts of poetry and random compliments were met with the same affection, she started to rethink. She didn’t want to hurt Mamet—she still didn’t see the need—so she tried to think of some way to help Mamet instead, to maybe transfer the affection to someone else, but when they camped that first night, and Samira stared up at a sky bright with stars, she started to wonder why she was trying so hard.
Was it fear? As much as Simon liked to go on about Mamet’s age, she wasn’t that much younger than Samira, though they’d led far different lives. Among her people, Mamet had been an adult for a long time. She would have been newer to adulthood in Gale, though at nineteen, Samira had nearly been a full-fledged yafanai, as deep in her training as any soldier or journeyman.
She glanced at Mamet where she reclined on the other side of the fire. Mamet looked away quickly, but when Samira stared, Mamet turned back and smiled. She was cute with her soulful brown eyes and her dark hair just long enough to get caught in her lashes. Samira liked the traits they shared: optimism, faith in others. But something about her, some innocence, kept Samira at bay. Mamet acted as if she’d never been hurt, at least not emotionally, and Samira didn’t want to be the first one to hurt her, and lovers had to do so occasionally. It just happened.
She thought maybe she should wait some more, but when they were mounting their ossors the next day and Mamet was still giving Samira longing glances, Samira pulled Mamet aside, signaling to Simon that she wanted to have a word alone. He sighed, a look of relief, and she knew he thought she’d tell Mamet to go home.
“You know what we’re doing is dangerous,” Samira said. “Even though we’re trying to figure out why the Svenal are doing what they’re doing, this could get…messy.”
Her chin went up. “I’m not afraid.”
“No,” Samira said, ducking her head to hide a little smile. “I know you’re not, but with our powers…” She took a deep breath. “Simon and I can make sure no one gets hurt unless it’s necessary.”
Mamet frowned. “Are you worried for me or them? I won’t attack unless I have to, I promise.”
“And I’ll hold you to that if you still insist on coming with us.”
“I won’t let you down. You’ll see!”
Samira narrowed her eyes and knew what was putting her off. Mamet was so eager, and she seemed to think that if she behaved the right way, she’d be rewarded. “Even if you impress me, even if you save my life or Simon’s, I don’t owe you anything romantically. You know that, right?”
Mamet’s mouth dropped open, and she seemed genuinely horrified. “Of course! If you would ever…if we could ever…” She went pink and took a deep breath. “I…admire you, Samira. So much.” Her eyes filled with hero worship. “If we could ever be anything together, even close friends, it would mean nothing if one of us felt…obligated.” She looked away and shivered, her mouth turned down in distaste.
Samira smiled, and her estimation went up a few notches.
Another day of riding passed, followed by a night of camping as they angled southwest, and Samira told Simon she didn’t think they should drive Mamet off just yet. Simon sighed. “I guess we really are going to the Svenal then. I was hoping to veer off and look for Horace.”
She nodded. “But while we’re out here, we may as well see.”
“With
our little helper along, it seems like the only way.” He gave her a look, but she shook her head.
“I can’t just make her leave, Simon.”
“Can’t or don’t want to?”
She put her hands on her hips and stared.
He hung his head. “I know I’m being a pain. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to get pulled into this plains dweller thing. I just wanted to warn Horace.”
“And we will. But I know you’re intrigued by this Svenal thing. Let’s take a look, find out what we can, and we’ll be on our way again.”
He nodded, and Samira bet he was at least a little happy for a delay. Then he had more time to think of what he’d finally say to Horace when they met again.
They approached the Svenal camp in the afternoon, a loose collection of leather tents, much closer together than those of the Engali, and the site looked unkempt, broken baskets and torn clothing strewn through the grass. Tent flaps waved untied in the breeze. One tent, larger than the others, dominated the center, and the only murmur of voices came from there.
Someone wandered out of the central tent and caught sight of them. He wore no shirt, and his ribs showed through his skin. Before they could call out, he darted back into the tent, and others poured out, weapons ready. They snarled, their eyes haunted.
Mamet drew her bone sword, but Samira grabbed her arm. “Wait, let Simon try first.”
Simon slid off his ossor. Samira felt a prickle along her scalp as his power engulfed everyone, radiating calm. Her tense muscles relaxed, and she fought to keep her eyes from going half lidded. The Svenal staggered to a stop, staring in wonder before looking to one another. They walked forward again but seemed more curious than angry. Their clothing was dirty and their hair disheveled as if they had too much to do to worry about their appearance. No one appeared to have eaten well recently, and Samira didn’t need to come closer to know how badly they smelled, like a group of sick people.
“We’re not going to hurt you,” Simon said in the plains language. “We’re healers. We’ve come to help.”
Now the light in their eyes changed from wonder to hunger. They stumbled forward again, and Samira readied her power just in case, but Simon’s abilities had recovered more than she’d thought. Another wave came off him, and the Svenal slowed, stumbling. Samira was glad she was sitting down.
Widows of the Sun-Moon Page 7