by L. W. Jacobs
“You were, actually,” Tai said. “Just not like that.”
Weiland nodded. “Guess the boy wasn’t strong enough.”
Karhail began untying the bonds. Eyna and Ilrick appeared in the door. “The shatters happened here?” Ilrick asked. Eyna’s eyes were wide.
“Matle didn’t make it,” Karhail said, still stony.
“Prophets,” Theron breathed. “What are we going to do?”
“We bury him and try again.”
“Try again?” Tai stared at the man. “After what just happened?”
“We take precautions,” Karhail said. “And I go next.”
“Sure you want to do that, Kar?” Ilrick asked. “I don’t know I want to fight you if you’re carrying on like Matle did.”
“We need this,” Karhail said, undoing the last of the bonds and easing the body down. “We need an edge if we’re going to beat the Houses, let alone the Councilate. Tai and Weiland succeeded, Beal survived, Matle died. Those are odds I’m willing to take.”
“Not me,” Ilrick muttered.
Karhail cracked his neck, unwinding the bonds. “You’re good enough at what you do, and mosstongues use so little uai anyway, I guess we can let you off the hook. But brawlers, wafters, slips, all the heavy abilities, we all do it, and all the recruits.” He looked around. “It’s that, or give up now. Are you with me?”
Most of the men nodded, but Tai met Karhail’s eyes, unblinking. He was asking them all to face death, but that was true in an attack, too. Still, he didn’t nod his head. He couldn’t. This was different.
Karhail slung the body over his shoulder and turned away.
They buried Matle in a small chamber an hour’s walk away. Eyna spoke a few words in Yati, and each added something from their own beliefs, Aelya producing a purple mavenstym flower from somewhere and laying it on his cheek.
Karhail remained stony-faced and insisted on taking his own yura as soon as they got back. They took precautions this time, reasoning that if a brawler lost control of their powers, they would become wildly strong and violent. They bound the tall Seinjialese man to a rock pillar, wrapping him head to foot with rope, Ilrick tying thick sailor’s knots on the far side of the pillar.
“That should hold him,” he said, dusting off his hands. They’d set torches all around, and decided someone would keep watch with a decanter of dreamleaf, in case things went wrong.
“Just give me the yura,” Karhail intoned.
Ilrick fed him fifteen balls of yura. It was hard to watch, and some part of Tai was relieved when they chose Weiland to guard. The man had already found a stone to lounge on, and nodded to them as they passed, apparently unconcerned.
Tai left the chamber with the other men, heading for the small room where Aelya had been resting. She was asleep when he got there, empty herb packet beside her. Tai sat on the pallet across from hers, tired and restless. How long had it been since he slept? He lay back, but his mind kept working: Karhail and the others taking House funds, Matle hanging limp and dead from his bonds, Marrem’s lined face asking him if this was doing it better. Lumo. Hopefully, the mountain man was all right.
He had shown Tai a breathing exercise as part of the training to use his second-level powers. “It is also good for relaxing,” the hulking man had said. “I practice sometimes, though I cannot make things waft.”
Tai found a scrap of yura and lay back, grinding the earthy moss between his teeth.
Follow your breath. Notice its qualities.
His breathing was too fast for having lain awhile, his chest tight.
Feel it enter, feel it exit, like a living thing. Relax. When you are ready, push it out, touch something.
Tai chose a battered tin cup on the ground next to Aelya.
Breath in, touch. Breath out, move.
Tai breathed out, willing the cup to slide. It didn’t.
The object is an extension of your breath. Tai could hear the Minchu’s deep rumble. Feel it as you feel your own wind.
Tai tried again, breathing out. The cup, two spans away or more, slid on the stone.
He breathed again, cup drawing toward him, then breathed out, willing his breath to touch the bottom of the cup somehow.
The cup rose, wobbling, then fell. Tai grimaced at the clatter, began again. Follow your breath, notice its qualities. He breathed steadily, slowly, trying to feel the cup as an extension of himself. It rose, slowly, and he inhaled it closer, moving the air against it like he did his own body in flight. Like he’d done chasing a dying Matle through the cavern.
The cup clattered to the stone. Aelya shifted, mumbling. Tai grimaced. In, out. Touch, move. Feel the wind, feel the cup. It rose again, wobbling, and came over to him. A moan came from the cavern, and the cup dipped a moment. No distractions. Breathing out, he pushed a little more on the top of the cup, rolling it. A stone die fell out and he caught it with air, breathed it upward.
Another moan from Karhail’s direction. Tai held his focus, held the cup and die with his breath. If Karhail dies, and the rebels turn against me—
The cup and die fell on him, tin cold on his skin. No distractions.
Tai growled, focusing, and tried again. In, out…
He had the cup in air above him, die orbiting a handsbreadth outside it, when a zip sounded. Weiland appeared in the door. “He’s all right now, I think, if you gents want to help me untie him.”
Tai lowered the die and cup, steady, then ran to see, grateful for the calm in his mind.
Karhail was better than all right, grinning from ear to ear as they untied him. “You sure you’re fine, Kar?” Ilrick asked.
“Never better,” the man grinned, resonance thundering from him. “If I had known this years ago—” He shook his head.
“What in deeps?” Weiland said, staring at the pillar as Karhail stepped away.
A mass of yura clung to the stone, forming a perfect outline of the Seinjial’s body. Ilrick whistled. “Looks like you grew some moss, Kar.”
“Hmph,” Karhail said, bemused. “I guess we can always use more.”
“We—the Achuri—believe our ancestors leave it as a gift,” Tai said, “when they depart. Did you—talk with your ancestors?”
Karhail sobered some. “Aye. The challenges. I heard them. But like they were wounded. It’s hard to describe—but I saw the way through.”
Weiland nodded. “The yura makes them easier to fight.”
“I’m just glad you didn’t beat yourself to bits in the process,” Ilrick said, deftly plucking the clumps of yura.
“You’re next, Theron,” Karhail said.
“Hold,” Tai said, putting a hand on Theron’s arm. “We’ve all seen what happened to Matle. This should be a choice.” Eyna said nothing but came to stand next to him.
Karhail met his gaze, glanced at her. “To be a soldier is to accept death. Theron of all people knows this.”
“I am willing to do it, Tai,” the bulky Seinjialese said in a low tone. “I would be more than I am.”
Tai watched in silence as they took his weapons, fed him yura, and tied him to the stone.
Was this doing it better?
20
What is in light? Though the sun shines yellow and the star blue, still there seems to be something more than this, because winterfoods wither with too much sunlight, and summer foods fail to grow under Gyolla’s blue glow. Is the light in fact the Prophet’s blessing to mankind? But that would indicate yura, too, is a blessing: for winterfoods do not much nourish the body, but readily fuel resonances, whilst summer crops keep a body hale but do little for the music of the bones.
—Eylan Ailes, Treatise on Natural Histories
The Sanga bridge was a long wooden arch spanning the milky-blue Sanga River, elaborately carved and stained a deep burgundy. Ella stood to one side of it, scanning both sides of the river for the street tough, Tai.
If that’s what he was. She’d first met him on the streets, but what had he been doing with a load of yura
for Odril’s money-laundering house? That was the work of a House mercenary.
It shouldn’t matter—he’d been kind to her, given her yura when he had no reason to, and that was all that was important. But somehow, the thought of him fighting in one of Odril’s proxy wars made her think less of him.
It also made her feel less safe. A man like that, paid to kill people, might not flinch at hurting her if it benefitted him. What if Odril had found out and contracted Tai to take her back? She still had her resonance, yes, but she wasn’t invincible.
You’re not invincible, something said inside. You should get out of here.
Ella frowned. She’d been hearing things lately, little snippets like this, though that was the strongest yet. Was LeTwi coming back? And would that mean losing her resonance? The voice didn’t sound like LeTwi. Though there was something familiar about it.
Ella shook her head, scanning the noon crowds on one side, the farmers and elk carts on the other. No sign of Tai. Her biggest worry was not that he was a mercenary, or even that she was in danger, but that she’d inadvertently given him the secret of yuraloading. And if he was a mercenary, that meant yuraloading would eventually get used for House ends, for further conquering and cultural erasing—for all the things she had come here to stop.
“Ella?”
She started, striking her resonance in surprise. The world slowed, but she didn’t recognize him at first—then realized he was the Seinjialese man next to her in kurta and pants, black hair pulled back in a silver band. She looked around but didn’t see anyone else approaching, or even watching them. Crucially, no one was moving faster than a snail’s pace, which meant no other timeslips. So, if it was a trap, it was a poor one.
She let go. “Tai! You—look different.”
He grimaced. “Trying to keep a low profile.”
“Me too.” She’d worn a Yersh leana that day, a split dress with leggings beneath, and kept her hair in a simple bun. “Who are you hiding from?”
“Lawkeepers,” he said. “House Galya, Coldferth. Take your pick.”
“Coldferth? Were you…behind the attack on the dockhouse?” It’d been all the talk since yesterday.
Tai looked around. “Walk with me?”
They crossed the bridge, and Tai steered them off the main road onto the rutted cart paths that divided the green fields. The air was warm and held the pleasant scent of fresh-turned earth.
“I had you pegged for a street tough at first,” Ella said. “Then when you came with all that yura…”
“You assumed I was a mercenary.”
She looked at him, handsome with his hair pulled back and decent clothes. “Are you a mercenary?”
“No,” he said, forcefully, then, “I’m not. I’m—I just want my kids back. The Councilate stole them as part of payback for trouble with a lawkeeper—the one that bothered us the first time we met? He took them to the prison camp.”
The flat way he said it told her there was a lot of emotion underneath. “I’m sorry. I tried to talk him down.”
“I know you did.” He shook his head. “Surprised me, that a lighthair would.”
“Is that all I am, just a lighthair?”
“That’s what I thought at the time. And yeah, you are, just not a normal one. Anyways, that trouble wasn’t really about us or the yura you were trying to buy. The Houses are cracking down on the streets, trying to clean up the black market so they can make more money on yura.”
Ella stepped around a pile of leafy weeds left to wilt in the sun. “Well, I’m sorry either way. I probably shouldn’t have stood around, grilling you about resonances.”
He shrugged. “People are usually a little faster about buying illegal goods off the street.”
It took her a second to realize he was joking. And a second more to realize she’d stopped watching for an attack. He’d put her at ease. “So, you’re not a mercenary? Then why the shipment to Odril? You know what he is, right?”
Tai grimaced. “I have some idea, anyway. It was a one-time thing, something the rebels asked me to do to prove myself. They—said they used to take contracts, one House against another, but they’re done with that now.”
“The rebels? So, you’re…”
“Fighting the Councilate.”
Currents. “To get your kids back?”
“Mostly.”
Ella pursed her lips. “You must be very committed to them, to not just run with that yura. It would make you a fortune in Worldsmouth.”
Tai kicked a withered beet out of the way. “A fortune won’t help me get them out. I need an army for that.”
She shook her head. Was he really that selfless? Or was this a front because he wanted something? “You must really love them.”
“I do.” He muttered something then—likely talking to his voice.
“Are they…your kids?” He seemed too young to have more than a couple of kids, but then, life on the streets was different. She’d learned that in the Brokewater slum.
He blushed, which made her laugh.
“Mine?” he spluttered. “Ah—no. I should say, my gang. Kids I found on the street, who needed help. Not my, ah, my own kids.”
A rebel street tough who cared for orphans and blushed at the mention of fatherhood. “You’re not such a normal one yourself, Tai of Ayugen. So, did you use any of that yura you had?”
“You mean overdosing, like you did?” Her stomach flopped, remembering what was at stake. If the wrong people found out about yuraloading… “Yeah, we did.”
Ella’s heart sank. Well, that was it. It was out. It was actually relieving, somehow, to know she wasn’t the only one who knew now. And it sounded like his group wasn’t controlled by the Houses. But best of all, another part of her said, now she could study it.
“So, how did it go?”
Tai kept his gaze ahead. “Two of us overcame our voices. One of us didn’t have anything happen. And one died.”
“One died?” Prophet’s teeth. “What happened?”
“We don’t know. He just started talking in crazy voices, shouting and stuff. I was going to ask if you knew.”
“No. I argued with my—ancestor, but I never felt in danger from it.”
Tai turned them down another path, farther away from the city and the nearest mine compound. “This wasn’t ancestors. It was more like people arguing through him. And he totally lost control of his powers. He—I’ve never seen anything like it.”
There was more he wasn’t saying. “Did anything like that happen to you, when you overcame?” Overcome was the word he’d used for it, but she liked it. It fit somehow.
He shrugged. “Like I said, I don’t remember much of it.”
That was frustrating. She needed to know more, needed to understand the process. “Do you know anyone else who’s overcome?”
A hare flashed across their path, darting from one row of wintermelon to the next. “Only a few of us have tried the…”
“Yuraloading, I’ve been calling it.”
“Yuraloading. And beyond that, well, there is one person. A Minchu who fights with us.”
“There’s a Minchu in your group?” Ella had seen maybe three in her lifetime and never talked to one. They were notoriously reclusive.
“Yeah. He seems to know a lot about the resonances, and ancestors, though he calls them revenants.” He glanced over at her. “You two should probably talk.”
“I would love that. That reminds me”—she dug in her sleeve pocket—“I owe you. Two hundred moons; is that enough? I seem to remember something along those lines on the street.”
“It’s—more than enough,” Tai said, but he took the money. She’d had to borrow it from Sablo, but at the rate he paid her, she’d make it up fast. “Thank you.”
“Thank you. I don’t know many people who would give twelve balls to a stranger. I wouldn’t have gotten out of there without you.”
He looked uncomfortable at this. “You’re welcome. I don’t suppose there’s
any way you could get my kids out of the prison camp?”
Ella huffed a laugh. “No. Though I am working with the High Arbiter now. Maybe he can do something.”
Tai cocked his head. “High Arbiter?”
“The highest authority in Ayugen. He oversees the courts, the military, the Houses, everything.”
“Wow. Seems like a step up from Odril’s basement.” He paused, and she heard calculation in his voice when he spoke again. “How do you feel about the Councilate?”
Ella frowned. “That’s a hard question. I mean, I’m from the Councilate, for better or worse. I’m a citizen. But if you asked me whether to take it or leave it—I’d say leave it. In a heartbeat.”
“Why?”
She pursed her lips. There was so much to say, it was hard to boil down. “Because they’re destroying the only viable lifeways our continent has. The Yersh one hundred years ago, then the salt marshes, the Seinjialese, the Yati—and now you. The Achuri. Pretty soon, we’ll all be spokes in their wagon wheel, part of one big stupid machine that’s just trying to maximize profit. That’s why I’m here, actually. To learn from you. To record some of this lifeway before it’s gone, then use it to try to change how the Councilate works.”
“Wow.” They walked in silence, Tai plucking a few blades of grass. “What if you could do better than that? What if you could save the people as well as their ideas?”
She stopped. “Are you asking me to join the rebellion?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Yes. We need someone on the inside. Someone who knows what the Councilate is doing. Your job with the Arbiter is perfect.”
Ella’s throat tightened—the idea was wild. She’d never thought about doing any more than trying to influence policies from within the Councilate. To actually fight it? It seemed hopeless—but exciting too, in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. Since she broke out of her parents’ house, probably.
“And your friends really are committed to pushing the Councilate out?” she asked. “They’re not just taking contracts from the Houses?”