Braid of Sand

by Alicia Gaile

  “Is that supposed to be Naiara?”

  “Did you make that?” Armelle interrupted him before he could say anything too insulting. Gritting her teeth, Raziela nodded. Her face felt as though it was on fire.

  “It’s nice work,” Armelle said, tilting her head this way and that to inspect it from every angle.

  “What’s it for?” Barak folded his arms, looking at it with distrust. Osee slapped him in the chest with the back of his hand.

  “Don’t you remember? The statues carry messages from this world back to the Realm of the Gods.”

  “You mean Naiara can see us and hear what we’re saying through that thing?” He jumped back, kicking sand at the statue. Raziela wanted to both curl into a ball and roar at him all at once.

  “Do us all a favor and engage your common sense,” Castien spoke from the back of the group. He glowered at Barak, and Raziela wanted to make herself even smaller realizing that he knew how much is friend’s words had hurt her. An awkward silence spiraled around them as Barak finally realized he’d stuck his foot ankle-deep into his mouth.

  “So what are the sleeping arrangements around here?” He turned and surveyed the cave with distaste. “I can tell you both right now that only half of me is going to fit inside there.”

  “Well, who says you get first dibs on it anyhow?” Thamar quipped right back. “It’s ladies first, lunkhead.”

  “Since when do you go around claiming the title of lady? Ladies don’t go around breaking noses for stealing chickens, now do they? That’s right. Mom told me what you did to her neighbor.”

  “A lady does what needs to be done, including breaking a man’s nose over stealing her mother’s chicken, plucking said chicken’s feathers, and then roasting it for supper.”

  “Well, you’re right about that last part,” he said, folding his arms with a glitter in his eye. Thamar’s mouth went round with outrage, and she pointed her finger at his chest.

  “Maybe you’re right. You do deserve the cave. After all, that must remind you of the hole you crawled out of.”

  Grins were exchanged, though Raziela didn’t understand what they were arguing about. She hovered on the edge of the group, feeling strangely hopeful for an invitation to be included and at the same time grateful that she continued to go unnoticed.

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you all have sleeping bags, don’t you,” Castien said, folding his arms. The women looked at him as if he’d stated the obvious, but Barak looked crestfallen.

  “You mean I traded my warm apartment to sleep on the ground?”

  “You also traded it for a chance to eat real food again.”

  “But we don’t even know what any of that is,” he went on, pointing his hand at it like a petulant child. Castien lifted his eyes to the clouds as if he could find extra reserves of patience there. “For all we know those could be carrots.”

  “Ooh, I hope so!” Thamar said, rubbing her hands together. He glowered at her.

  “I’m allergic to carrots.”

  “I know.”

  “Anyway, what are we supposed to eat until those are ripe enough? Our supplies are good for a week, if that.”

  “Can’t any of you catch fish? There’s a whole ocean of them out there,” Raziela asked, surprised. He threw her a patronizing look.

  “Yeah, good luck with that one, Priestess. If anyone around here could get the fish to bite we wouldn’t be as bad off as we are.”

  She looked around at them all, surprised. They in turned stared back at her as though she was the one lacking common sense.

  “I mean... I realize it takes a bit of patience, but it’s not difficult to catch fish. It’s easier to wait for one to come along and bite than go to war with a goddess.”

  “Not if that goddess stopped all the fish from biting,” Armelle ground out, shooting an angry look at the sky.

  “But that’s ridiculous. Here. One of you must have something that can be used as a line.” She was grateful Castien hadn’t pointed this flaw out to her before he’d left or else she might have gone into a panic at the thought of not having even fish to sustain her if he never came back.

  As expected, between the five of them they had a line, a hook, and a spool of cord that could be fashioned into a makeshift reel. She walked down toward the water, noticing they all stayed back to watch her, as if they were so certain would fail they didn’t want to bother—or they were afraid of interfering in case she succeeded.

  “Mother, please shine your blessings on us and show me how best to reveal your light to these people.”

  A breeze rolled the waves into a low, white-crested swell. Raziela closed her eyes. The feel of the wind on her skin was familiar.

  “Aeris?”

  Caprea told her once that the nymphs and dryads could travel to the Human Realm, but just like everything else from the Realm of the Gods they appeared in a different form than the ones she was used to. Was it possible the zephyrs traveled back and forth too? What would creatures who were already difficult to detect convert to?

  The hook was heavy enough that she could swirl it around her head and send it sailing out over the waves. Considering the team’s mercenary lifestyle, she was sure it was meant to spear larger prey than fish, but it served its purpose. She let the line drift as she walked along the beach in the hopes of finding a depression where deeper fish might swim.

  For a while there was nothing. She resisted the urge to look over her shoulder. Their eyes bore into her, but each moment that went by without a nibble only hardened her resolve to return to them with a fish in tow.

  The sun hovered above the horizon. She stamped her foot before casting her line again. Taking a chance, she lifted her skirts and tied them in a knot around her knees before wading deeper. After four steps she sank in up to her waist, but it served its purpose. She blew out a breath at the unexpected rush of cold and then cast her line, offering another prayer that she would catch at least one fish.

  When the hook caught, the line nearly sliced off her fingers. She managed to hold on, but the unexpected jerk dragged her headfirst under the water. Digging her feet into the slippery, shifting sand, she struggled not to let her catch slip off her line.

  With her wet hair hanging in her eyes she couldn’t see what she was doing, but she kept hold of her line and struggled to back up to reel it in.

  “I’ve got something!” she shouted, when what she wanted to scream was, ‘Help!’

  Like the hook, the fishing line wasn’t intended for recreational use. It was incredibly sharp. It sliced into her skin and the salty seawater stung like fire. If one of them didn’t get down there soon, she had the feeling the fish was going to saw one of her fingers off.

  She heard splashes behind her and then Castien grabbed the line in front of her hand, giving her enough slack to get a less-painful grip. His eyebrows shot up when he felt the weight of her catch. She couldn’t help but lift her chin with a smug smile of satisfaction. He grinned back, and it startled her. All the weight and shadows he carried around with him vanished for one unguarded moment.

  Between the two of them, they managed to back the fish to the shore. It wasn’t so much a matter of strength, but she could see the line cutting into his hands as well. She didn’t want to see what it had done to hers. The others were waiting for them at the edge of the water. Barak’s face was pale as he stared at the large fish. Castien picked it up and laid it in Raziela’s arms like a bouquet of flowers. Barak went a sallow shade of green when she knelt in front of him and laid the fish at his feet.

  “If I were you, I’d offer a prayer of thanks to the Goddess.” She pointed to her sand sculpture. It had sagged a little thanks to all of their tramping around, and now that there were others to observe it, and thanks to his earlier disgust, she wasn’t as proud of her handiwork as before.

  Barak’s mouth opened and closed a few times, as if he was trying to mimic the fish dying at his feet. Then he dropped to his knees in the wet sand, clasped his hand
s, and murmured the words of an old prayer.

  31.

  She was a blessing, and she had no idea. Castien watched Raziela sit at the edge of their circle. She had one of Armelle’s spare plates in her lap that was littered with fish bones. The fish had been more than enough for them. Since the rest were so out of practice, she’d cleaned it and directed Barak in the proper way to cook it. He accepted her instruction meekly.

  Though she was clearly proud of herself for catching their dinner, she wasn’t comfortable yet with his band. She guarded every laugh like an eavesdropper and glanced around before she allowed herself to smile. Though she held herself very stiff, she remained alert to every move and gesture playing out around her. When Thamar laughed off some of Barak’s teasing with a cocky toss of her head, Raziela mirrored the action so subtly he wondered if she even realized she’d done it.

  Armelle noticed the involuntary movement too, and her eyes met Castien’s across the fire. Her thoughts couldn’t have been plainer if she shouted them. If she’s going to be modeling herself after Thamar then Naiara’s the least of our worries.

  Castien ducked his head to hide a grin, but when he glanced back at Raziela she was watching him with her direct, unfathomable look. Knowing she watched him as closely as he tried not to watch her sent a jolt through him.

  “So tell us, Priestess, what did you do when Castien showed up at the tower for the first time? He sort of glossed over that part when he told us about his trip to the Garden, but if I know Cas, he wouldn’t be in the most trusting mood after being hurtled through time or space or whatever separates the Gods’ world from ours. And considering that you probably weren’t expecting company, I can’t help but feel the most interesting part of the story was left out.” Thamar dragged her fingers through her braids with feigned innocence. Raziela straightened her shoulders and Castien suppressed a groan.

  “He tried to climb through my window using my hair as a rope, so I strangled him with it until he surrendered.”

  There was a moment of silence in which Castien told himself the heat in his face was caused by the fire. Then, the others gave a collective roar of laughter.

  Raziela flinched, but by slow degrees her tension unraveled as the group drew her in.

  Castien made short work of his plate of fish and got up to dump his bones in the collective pile before he wandered into the privacy behind the cave to relieve himself. Deciding to give the others time to finish laughing as she told them about his encounter with Gursel, he watched Raziela from the shadows. She had a vague smile on her face as she tried to follow the conversation flying around her while lacking the shared history to understand half of what they were talking about.

  “Funny,” he said, coming up behind her. “You didn’t mention how I jumped back in the water to save you when I though the sea creature was going to eat you.” At the sound of his voice a breath from her ear, her entire body went rigid.

  He unsettled her. Well, he was used to that, but it wasn’t the same way he unsettled most people.

  He recalled the intense relief on her face when she’d seen them coming back to the island. She’d waved to him like he was an old friend. If it wouldn’t have made him look ridiculous, he’d have smiled and waved back at her. Luckily, Thamar had spared him the trouble with her natural friendliness.

  “All right, that’s enough. I suggest we turn in for the night,” he said. If anything, Raziela went even more rigid than before. Stretching and smiling over their full bellies, the others got up. Osee slung an arm around Barak’s shoulders, still chuckling over the fool Barak had made of himself over the fish. Armelle stretched and pressed her fingertips to her lips before passing the kiss toward Raziela’s sand effigy.

  Raziela swept the end of her braid over her shoulder to toy with the ends. Castien watched her, waiting for her to work up the nerve to say whatever was bothering her.

  “Aren’t we going to make a plan for retrieving your weapons?”

  Everyone stopped moving. Barak laughed.

  “I hate to break it to you, Priestess, but that’s a lost cause. They’ve been taken to the Academy, and once Kephas and the King pick through them to take what they want, the rest will be divied out to the top students before the week’s out.”

  “Then we’re wasting time.”

  “Look, you’ve been a bit out of the loop for a while. We aren’t exactly welcome in the Academy. In fact, it’s only because the King needs us that we don’t have a permanent residence in the deep dark pit he was clearing out for you. Walking into the Academy—even for the stockpile of weapons they cleaned out of Castien’s house—is the height of stupidity.”

  “You’re afraid. I understand. You can stay here.” She dismissed him and turned to the others. He gave a small disbelieving huff before stepping away from Osee’s side.

  “I’ll admit that was a good trick with the fish, but you don’t get to walk in here and start barking out orders just because you caught dinner.”

  “No. She gets to start barking out orders because she’s had the most training out of all of us.” Castien crossed his ankles and leaned his shoulder against the cave.

  “No disrespect, Priestess,” said Armelle in a careful tone. “But have you ever been inside the Academy?”

  “No. But that’s what this planning meeting is for.”

  Castien rubbed his upper lip to hide a smile.

  “Assuming we can give you the layout, why risk so much for a few guns, knives, and swords?”

  “I don’t mean to risk your lives needlessly. There’s more at stake than you know. I...” She faltered, blinking and gritting her teeth as if she was debating how much to tell. “My duties were more than just whispering prayers to the Great Mother. There is a tree in the Sacred Grove. Every apple that grows on it is tied to a life in Phalyra. If you pluck one, that person dies. If you cut down the tree...”

  “You’ll end every last one of our lives.”

  “Vitales.” By the light of the fire, Castien appeared carved from the shadows.

  “Your brother is looking for it. If he finds a way back into the Great Mother’s Garden he could kill us all. We need those weapons to stop him and anyone else the King tries to send. And, we must find a way to repair the people’s faith in the Great Mother. Even before you came to the Tower, Vitales was dying. I thought it was something poisoning the soil in the Sacred Grove, but I see now it’s because our people here are starving.”

  “That’s because of Naiara,” Thamar spoke up. “Why should we pray to her when she’s the cause of all our suffering?”

  “Can’t you see the damage goes both ways? Your scientists and politicians turned the people against her until they forgot how much they owed her. Sacking her Temple was the last straw, and now the King fans the hatred against her. But if we are to survive, we must find a way to reconcile with her.”

  “And what happens the next time someone upsets Naiara?”

  “That is my responsibility as High Priestess, to bring back the people’s faith so that they show her the reverence she deserves.”

  The others shifted and exchanged furtive glances.

  Castien stepped forward.

  “One problem at a time. First, we need to stop my father and brother from getting back to the Garden. To do that, we’re going to have to take back the weapons they stole from my house.”

  They discussed strategies late into the night. Thamar, who had the most recent memories of the Academy’s layout, drew a map in the sand and the others crowded close to learn their routes. Even so, the only reason his friends agreed to go along with it was because he told them to. His word they trusted—Raziela’s, not so much.

  Eventually, the fire died down and they separated to their various sleeping spots.

  “If they’re going to sleep outside, I don’t want to be given special treatment being given the cave,” she said in a low whisper.

  “It’s not special treatment,” said Castien, smirking when she turned to look at him.
“You get to sleep on a slab of rock while we make ourselves comfortable out here on the sand.” To emphasize his point, he dug the toe of his boot into the powdery sand until it formed a depression.

  “I could alternate if someone’s willing to loan me a sleeping bag,” she offered in a small voice. Careful not to startle her, he took her by both shoulders. She bit her lip and glanced from his hand to his smile.

  “You caught us our dinner. If sleeping in the cave were a reward, that alone would have earned it. Go to bed.”

  “And you...?” Her cheeks turned a rosy shade that made the corners of his mouth quirk up at the question she wasn’t brave enough to ask.

  “I packed my sleeping bag just like everyone else.”

  “Oh, good! I mean—” That blush just got redder. “When it was raining and it was just the two of us, that was different, but... Oh, you know what I meant.”

  “Goodnight, Priestess,” he said. He waited for her to step away. She quirked her head at his use of her title. Shrugging, she dusted the sand from her skirts and wandered off to the darkened cave while Castien watched her go.

  Even though he’d sent the others to sleep, he stayed awake to tend to the dying fire. The smoke stung his eyes and made them water. Around that fiery orange glow was nothing but darkness. He heard her murmuring a prayer.

  “May your blessings shine down on all those who are poor, and sick, and hungry, Great Mother. Show them your mercy. They desperately need it.”

  WHEN THEY WOKE THE next morning, there were half a dozen more of the green shoots than there had been the night before. But more surprising than that, different foliage had sprung up just outside the mouth of the cave.

  “Raziela, do you know what any of this is?” Armelle knelt beside the assortment of leaves, brushing her fingers over the different textures. Osee was on his knees beside her.

  “Oh yes, I know that one,” she said dryly. “That’s rampion.”

  Osee tilted his head to study her as she walked closer.

  “That’s the one your father got caught trying to steal, isn’t it?”