Braid of Sand

by Alicia Gaile

  They were enjoying another dinner of fish, this time prepared with a mango glaze.

  “What’s the hurry?” Barak asked around a mouthful of food.

  “The sooner we turn the people back to Naiara, the sooner she’ll restore fertility to this world. Look what she’s done to this island. Are you really so selfish you’d deny others the chance to taste real food again?” Raziela glared at him.

  “I’ve been to her house before. Even if she hired guards, which I doubt she can afford, getting in and out won’t be difficult.” Castien leaned against a mango tree half-turned away from the fire.

  “I’m going with you.” Raziela held up a hand when he opened his mouth to argue. “While I’m sure you can intimidate her into doing whatever you say, convincing her to believe in our cause is the part that truly matters.” She plucked at a stray hair caught in the mango juice across her lips. Castien inclined his head.

  “Fine. Raziela and I will go. If we leave now we can be back before midnight.”

  “And I suppose you want me to take you,” Barak cast a forlorn look from his food to the dark waves. Castien folded his arms.

  “You’re the only one I trust manning a boat on those waters after dark, so yes.”

  “Ugh. Fine. Hey sis, wrap me up some fish to go while I get the boat ready.” Thamar opened her mouth to tell him to do it himself, thought better of it, and nodded. Barak’s eyebrows shot up and he turned to Raziela with a hand over his heart.

  “Are you sure all that time in the Realm of the Gods didn’t give you powers too? The mangoes were a neat trick, but she didn’t argue with me. That’s an absolute miracle!”

  “I was just waiting for you to leave so I could spit on it once your back was turned,” said Thamar sweetly. Barak laughed and sauntered off, making a rude gesture over his shoulder. Thamar ignored him.

  “Priestess, before you go, I was wondering if you’d like to borrow something to wear. If you’re going to be sneaking around Phalyra at night, pants are much stealthier than a long, flowing gown.” She winked. “Besides, you can’t tell me you wouldn’t feel better having a fresh pair of clothes.” It was the nicest way of saying Raziela smelled terrible after running around for three days in the hot sun without bathing. Raziela nodded shyly, touched.

  “Just remember, she’s going to break into the doctor’s house, not debut at a ball,” Armelle called after them as Thamar took Raziela by the arm and led her into the cave.

  “Ignore her. She’s just jealous I never offer to let her borrow any of my things. Here you go.” She held out a bundle of black clothes.

  Though the others stayed by the fire with their backs turned to the cave to give her privacy, Raziela felt exposed. She skimmed out of the purple silk as quickly as possible before squeezing her legs into the leather pants and jerking the dark linen shirt over her head.

  “Everything fit all right?” Thamar drifted closer and clapped her hands with satisfaction at what she saw. “Perfect! Those pants are too big on me but they fit you like a glove.”

  “You don’t think they’re too tight?” Thamar smothered a laugh.

  “Too tight? Of course not. they’re meant to be snug to show off what you’ve got.” Fire rushed to Raziela’s cheeks.

  “Why the heavens would I want that?” She took a step back, appalled. Thamar tapped her mouth thoughtfully.

  “If you use it right, beauty can be a powerful tool. And not everyone’s lucky enough to have it in bucketfuls the way we do, so you might as well take advantage of what you’ve got.”

  “Armelle doesn’t wear her clothes this tight.” At that, Thamar heaved a tragic sigh.

  “Believe me, I’ve tried. She could be a knockout if she’d just listen to me, but she’d rather sit around smelling like the boys than take five minutes to rub a little kohl around her eyes.” Raziela, who saw nothing wrong with the way Armelle dressed, decided not to comment. After making her spin around to check that everything was in place, Thamar declared her presentable.

  “All right, Priestess. Go knock ’em dead.”

  “We aren’t going to kill Dr. Laninga. How can she spread the truth about GrainGro if she’s dead?” She furrowed her brow when Thamar clapped her hands in delight.

  “Girl, you’re too much fun, you know that?”

  Raziela didn’t know and she wasn’t a fan of being laughed at. However, stepping out of the cave dressed like one of Castien’s band gave her a rush of belonging. Despite Thamar’s claim that the pants were perfect, she thought they were a little snug. Luckily, the leather stretched enough that Raziela wasn’t worried about ripping the seams while she ran.

  Leaning his shoulder against a mango tree, Castien straightened when she emerged. His slow appraisal brought heat rushing to her face as she remembered Thamar’s ridiculous words. The clearing quieted as Osee and Armelle also noticed her return. They exchanged a meaningful look before glancing at Castien. Raziela’s flush climbed higher. Did she really look that bad?

  Just when she was about to dive back into the darkness to put on her old clothes—stench or no stench—Castien cleared his throat.

  “Pants suit you.”

  Her pulse did a strange little dance, and she swept a lock of hair behind her ear.

  “Thank you.”

  “Oh gods!” groaned Barak, who’d chosen that moment to return. He looked between them with his hands on his hips. “Thamar, pack more fish. This is going to be a long night!”

  With no change in his expression whatsoever, Castien scooped up a discarded mango pit from near his feet and lobbed it over his shoulder. It struck Barak square in the forehead and he toppled over backward.

  34.

  Riding across the harbor beneath the light of the full moon carried a sharper edge of danger than riding over the waves by the light of day. Perhaps it was because Raziela associated the darkness with Itzal, and for so long her world had revolved around the light of Great Mother. But looking over the sides of the boat, she kept expecting something terrible to swim up from the depths.

  She wasn’t the only one unnerved. Castien kept a white-knuckled grip on the side of the boat and for all his laughing and teasing on land, Barak’s jaw clenched tight as he navigated them toward Sestrand Harbor.

  It was with more than a little relief that she took Castien’s hand and stepped off the boat onto the edge of the pier a short while later. Her legs wobbled as they readjusted to solid land.

  Castien’s motorcycle was still where he’d parked it. There was only a quarter tank of gas, but it would be enough to get them to Dr. Laninga’s house. The roar as the engine came to life made her squeeze her arms around his waist. She looked around, half-expecting the King’s Guard to pour out of the shadows at any moment, but the night remained still and quiet.

  Now that they weren’t racing for their lives, she was more aware of being pressed against Castien’s broad back as they wound their way through the streets. The tall buildings leaned over them, and she found herself hugging closer to him.

  They stopped a couple of blocks from Dr. Laninga’s house. Castien swung his leg off the bike and took a deep breath.

  “Is everything all right?”

  “I don’t like this. I don’t like being the Shadow Striker around you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I like that you don’t see the same monster the rest of Phalyra sees when you look at me.” The admission didn’t require a response, and if it did Raziela had no idea what the right one would be. Her chest ached as he swung away from her to lead the way up the street.

  Dr. Laninga lived in a two-story brick house set close to the road. They ducked around the side to climb over the garden wall. Castien cupped his hands for her to slip her foot in so he could give her a boost. But, being so much taller than she was, he took three steps back and, with a small running start, managed to scale the wall all by himself.

  A pergola cast shade over the back patio. It created the perfect platform for them to climb to the secon
d story window which Castien said opened into the Dr.’s room. Raziela gritted her teeth, trying to keep up with him. Scaling walls and sneaking around hadn’t been part of her training. Watching him drag himself to the top of the pergola using upper body strength alone, she castigated her own inability to find a single decent foothold.

  “I guess she learned her lesson. The window’s locked.” His bare arms strained as he tried to pry open the window. Raziela caught herself staring and blinked to turn her attention back to figuring out a way in.

  “Any other ideas?”

  “It’s called breaking and entering for a reason.” He turned his head and before she could stop him, drove his elbow into the glass.

  There was a shriek from within, but he dove through the window and the cry was cut off. Raziela scrambled after him.

  “W-what are you doing here? I did as you asked. I haven’t breathed a word.” The woman’s voice warbled with a furious terror. Raziela picked her way over the shattered glass, squinting to adjust her eyes more quickly to the darkness.

  Castien stood over a woman in her mid-forties who was seated in a wooden rocking chair. He had a hand on her shoulder, but from the look on her face, he might as well have had his fingers around her throat.

  “I know you’ve kept your silence,” he said in a bored voice. “That’s not what I’m here for. This time I want you to tell everyone what they weren’t ready to hear then.”

  Dr. Laninga’s mouth fell open. She tried to hurl herself out of the rocking chair, but his hand on her shoulder locked in place, stopping her cold.

  “It’s too late! Even if I tell everyone the truth about GrainGro there’s nothing we can do to reverse its effects. You knew then what a disaster we were headed toward. You knew, but you stopped me anyway because someone had you by the purse strings! Who is it this time? Why even bother with it now at all?”

  He said nothing. His silence carried the weight of a warning that at any moment his patience might snap. Dr. Laninga babbled on.

  “We could have altered the formula. We could have run more tests and things never would have come to this. This is your fault, Striker! By shutting me up, you brought us to this!” He absorbed her fury like a tornado drawing debris. It had little effect on him but could have devastating results if he chose to unleash it back at her.

  “For goodness sake, you don’t have to terrify the poor woman!” Raziela snapped. Dr. Laninga whipped around.

  “Who are you?”

  Raziela knelt beside the chair.

  “My name is Raziela. My father is Lord Hagan Ardelean, and I am the last priestess of Naiara.”

  Dr. Laninga’s chest heaved with fear. She swung her head back and forth as she tried to make sense of why the two of them were breaking into her house in the middle of the night.

  “What do you want?” She shrank from Raziela, curling closer to Castien as if he would protect her. Considering her babbling fear of only moments before, that she would look to him for protection said a lot.

  Raziela summoned her most reassuring smile.

  “The truth.”

  In a low rush, she explained everything the scientist needed to know.

  “What makes you think anyone will believe me? I’ve spent the past three years lying through my teeth to convince them that GrainGro is the answer to our prayers.” She made a point not to look at Castien.

  “I only need you to tell the truth. The burden of proof falls on me.” Raziela pushed one of the clay idols from the Academy into her hands. Dr. Laninga’s fingers recoiled, but before it could fall from her lap, Raziela placed a mango beside it in the folds of her nightgown.

  “Where did you get this?” Dr. Laninga scooped it up and inspected it like a gem collector trying to detect glass beads. Raziela touched the idol’s head.

  “These are the eyes and ears of the Great Mother. Show her that you believe in her, and your faith will be rewarded.”

  Tears shone in Dr. Laninga’s eyes.

  “The King called for an assembly tomorrow to see his soldiers off on a training exercise.”

  Raziela’s chest squeezed. Kephas’ words about restoring Phalyra to its former glory suddenly made terrifying sense. We’ll worry about that later. Castien’s knowing gaze steadied her. Focus on the problem at hand and we’ll worry about my father and brother later.

  Dr. Laninga was observant enough to know they were communicating, but wise enough not to comment. She cleared her throat.

  “He’s invited key members of the SIAR Labs board of directors to talk about the success of GrainGro. Projections suggest we’ll triple our annual yield by the end of the season. But it’s destroyed the soil. If what you say is true, it will be my pleasure to do as you ask, Priestess.”

  IT WAS NEARLY TWO IN the morning by the time they made it back to the island to find the others asleep for the night. Barak fed a few pieces of driftwood to the fire and everyone sat blinking in astonishment while Castien and Raziela recounted their conversation with Dr. Laninga.

  “She didn’t have any details about the training mission, but they must be going after Vitales. Herodes won’t want the tree’s properties to be common knowledge until he can secure it and harness them for himself first.”

  Tense looks were exchanged.

  “He wants SIAR Labs board members to praise the great work they’ve done with GrainGro. My guess is he plans to use it as more false evidence that we don’t need Naiara. Dr. Laninga agreed to tell everyone the true state of things, but if we don’t want a stampede for the Great Mother’s Garden we’re going to have to take as much of this fruit as we can carry to prove that she’s willing to be merciful if we shelve our pride long enough to bow down to her.”

  “You really think that’ll be the end of it?” Barak scrubbed a hand over his face and crossed his arms. “There’s no way Herodes is just going to see the error of his ways and let Phalyra turn back to the Goddess.”

  Raziela balled her fists until she could feel the sting of her nails biting into her palms. His eternal pessimism set her teeth on edge.

  “Maybe he won’t, but there will be others that will. Mistakes were made on both sides that led us to this point. Look around. Naiara is listening, and she’s willing to help those who ask for it.”

  “Is she though? Or is it just you?” Barak leaned toward her. “I’m not doubting that I’ve seen some miraculous things these past few days, but the one thing they all had in common was you. Lady Pomona was a priestess back in her day. In ten years I guarantee she’s prayed to the Goddess. But all her prayers landed on deaf ears. You built a little statue in the sand and a whole mango forest sprang up in a day.”

  “You and Osee caught those fish for our dinner last night. I had nothing to do with that.” Raziela’s cheeks heated, but she didn’t know whether she should be defending herself or not. He waved that aside as if it made no difference.

  “All I’m saying is, it’s dangerous to go feeding desperate people hope built on a guess. What if they all get down on their knees and beg for forgiveness and nothing happens? What if Naiara doesn’t care about them? What if it’s just you she’s trying to look after?”

  “That’s why it’s called having faith, Barak. You must be willing to believe and willing to forgive.”

  “Either way,” Osee stretched his arms over his head with a huge yawn, “a little hope won’t kill anyone.”

  “We still have a few hours before dawn. Let’s get some sleep and we’ll think up a suitable plan of action then.”

  Even though Castien was the one who ushered everyone off to bed, Raziela watched him pick his way down to the water. He bowed his head and shoved his hands in his pockets. He looked small and forlorn against the black ribbon of the ocean stretching beyond him. When her eyes grew too heavy to hold open, he still hadn’t moved.

  Dawn came far too quickly.

  While Raziela stretched like a cat welcoming the glow of the sun’s early rays, the others woke with scattered growls and groans. To her s
urprise, Castien sat poking a stick at the remains of the fire and chewing on a mango looking as though he hadn’t slept.

  “I hope you all slept well,” he said without glancing up from his breakfast. Armelle rubbed at the sleep crusted in her eye. Thamar’s blinked in the early morning light, and a Barak leaned heavily against Osee. Raziela sank down beside him, and folded her legs beneath her. Castien didn’t look at her, just kept chewing as if the rotation of his jaw propelled his brain to think.

  “I’ve got a plan, but if it’s going to work you’re all going to have to be at the top of your game.”

  “A life-and-death mission. Haven’t been on one of those in a while.” Barak cracked his knuckles one by one. Beside him, Osee shook his feather-tipped braids back from his face with a grin of anticipation.

  After laying everything out for them, Castien rubbed his bloodshot, tired his eyes before squinting at the map of Market Square he’d outlined in the sand.

  “Once we break cover we’ll be isolated and exposed until it ends. If you can help one another, do it but...don’t take unnecessary risks.” What he didn’t say was how likely it was that they wouldn’t all make it back.

  “We know what we have to do, Cas,” said Thamar in a low voice. “No matter what happens, we’ll do the best that we can.”

  35.

  With more than a little regret, Raziela peeled off the clothes Thamar had loaned her. Today, more than any other time, she needed to look the part of a High Priestess, and that meant putting back on the robes Lady Pomona had loaned her. Armelle and Thamar had washed them for her while she and Castien went to speak with Dr. Laninga.

  As soon as she pulled the dress over her head and the lavender silk fell to her ankles, a weight seemed to press in on her. She was a Daughter of Light, the last priestess of Naiara. If she fell, her order would be completely wiped out and with it all chances to stop the King from attacking Vitales.

  Laughter sounded from beyond the cave. Osee and Barak were rinsing their faces with water from their canteens and joking about which of them was more handsome.