Lalani of the Distant Sea

by Erin Entrada Kelly

  The air cooled enough to remind her that she was far from home. Far from her mother. Far from Veyda. Lost.

  The trees were thicker. Denser.

  “Mountains are of no threat to me!” she said. “The mountain is not as tall as my spirit!”

  She wished she’d kept the twig. She reached out, hoping to find another branch, but the meha trees were too massive and hearty to leave loose pieces behind.

  “I am as strong as the meha!”

  But she knew she wasn’t.

  She turned to the west. At least she thought it was west. At some point the creek had abandoned her. But she was not alone. A hushed noise, like a sigh. It was the rustling of leaves. She kept moving, and that’s when she saw it: the tree of weeping moss. It was here again! Progress.

  With the next step, another sound. Not a sigh. No, nothing like that. A snarl. Growl. Hiss. A wide mouth opening. Hot breath on her neck. Drops of frothy saliva landing on her shoulders.

  Her heart stopped. Her feet, too.

  She thought: run.

  But she couldn’t move. And when she finally could, two clawed hands rose up and snatched her.

  Eyes

  “Do you know how lucky you are?”

  The words came from far away. It was a man’s voice. Deep and throaty. Lalani’s eyes were closed, and she was afraid to open them. She wiggled her fingers and toes. She was in one piece. But what had happened?

  The air around her was stale and unmoving. She was indoors. She knew, too, that she was on a floor made of wood. Flenka, perhaps.

  Had she made it back to the village somehow?

  She heard a noise. Clop-clop-clop. Then closer. Clop-shh. Clop-shh. Slowly, slowly. Near her ear now. Her heart leaped awake and banged in her chest.

  “You were nearly killed,” the man said.

  She sat up quickly and scurried back as fast as she could, until there was nowhere else for her to go. Standing in front of her, like a tower, like a soaring spike of rock, was a man with two enormous horns, curved horns that sat atop his head, horns that ended in two sharp points, horns that looked so heavy that Lalani wondered how he carried them. But that wasn’t what frightened her most—although it certainly was frightening, yes, to see a man with horns—no, what frightened her most was his face.

  He had no eyes.

  “I sense your fear,” he said. “But there’s no need to be afraid. I won’t hurt you. I saved your life. You were about to be killed by the beast who lives in these mountains.”

  The house was small. Just one room. The man leaned on a broken and whittled branch—an unusual-looking cane that seemed to sparkle. A small pouch dangled around his neck. Lalani glanced to her left: a table topped with slivers of tree bark. A single chair, with a blanket draped across it.

  Lalani swallowed. She pushed herself against the wall.

  The man stood there, quietly balancing on his cane, his chin dipping toward her as if he could see. His white hair was dirty and matted around his horns. She saw now that he had a beard. That was matted, too.

  “The beast?” said Lalani.

  He nodded once. “There are beasts everywhere.” He paused. “What is your name?”

  She hesitated. She pressed her palms against the floor.

  “I’d rather not say,” she replied.

  “I’ll just call you Girl, then,” he said. He straightened up as much as he could. “My name is Ellseth.”

  Lalani’s mind scrambled. Had Lo Yuzi ever told a story about a man with horns named Ellseth? No, she didn’t think so. She’d told them about a beast without eyes, though. And this man certainly had no eyes. But he looked too old and tired to be a beast.

  It was impossible to sort out. If there was indeed a man in the mountain who had no eyes, then it must also be true that there was a man in the mountain who had no eyes and wanted to eat hers for supper. Right? Was it possible for there to be two truths? Or half-truths? How was she to know?

  She wished Veyda was with her.

  “Ellseth,” Lalani repeated.

  She felt better knowing he had a name, at least. It was harder to fear someone who had a name.

  “You must be from the village below the mountain,” he said. He turned and lumbered to the single chair, finding his way with the cane. He groaned as he sat. “I’ve never been there. I can’t travel far, as you can imagine.” He waved toward his face. “Not anymore, anyway.”

  Lalani took a deep, deep breath. Her heart slowed. Her mind still whispered danger, danger, but she managed to quiet it. It would be easy to escape this room, after all.

  Then again, if she escaped—how would she find her way home?

  And what if the beast attacked her again?

  She cleared her throat. “Do you know the way back to the village?”

  He rested both wrinkled hands atop his cane. “I’m afraid not. I know little of where I am or how long I’ve been here.”

  “You were not born of Kahna?”

  “What is ‘Kahna’?”

  “This mountain, which watches over us.”

  “Kahna,” he said, as if he wanted to try the word on his tongue.

  “If you are not from the mountain, or the village, then where did you come from?”

  Lalani had never seen anyone who wasn’t from Sanlagita. The Sanlagitans, after all, had no idea what, if anything, existed beyond their island. Their legends told them there was an island to the north, across the Veiled Sea, but that was all they knew. The idea that this man (was it a man or a creature?) was from somewhere other than Sanlagita or Mount Kahna seemed as mysterious and bewildering as the notion of singing birds. Lalani’s curiosity swelled until it overshadowed her fear and the voice whispering danger, danger.

  “I come from Isa,” said Ellseth.

  A gasp lodged in Lalani’s throat. So many men had died—including her father, and Veyda’s—searching for Isa, wondering if it existed, and here was this horned man telling her he’d been there.

  Was he lying? Lalani searched for tells, but they were difficult to spot.

  “Isa?” she said.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “How?”

  “How what?”

  How what? How everything. There were so many questions fighting for her attention that she didn’t know which one to ask.

  Veyda always said that when you have a problem, you should ask the most obvious question first.

  “Why are you here?” Lalani asked.

  Ellseth breathed deep. It rattled in his chest. His shoulders fell, no longer proud. He lowered his chin. Lalani could see that there were patches where his horns had peeled, as if they had also wrinkled and aged.

  “I was banished,” he said. “As punishment for my misdeeds.”

  Just like in Lo Yuzi’s story.

  You spend your days all alone, dreaming of your other life, when you had friends and family. But you know that this life is what you’re due, because of all your sins.

  Lalani’s eyes widened.

  “There are two kinds of children,” Ellseth said. “Those who delight in stories and those who are too afraid to listen.” He lifted his chin and leaned toward Lalani. The chair creaked beneath him. “Do you delight in stories?”

  Lalani swallowed. “I do.”

  Ellseth tapped his cane against the floor. Clop.

  “Then I will tell you mine,” he said.

  Ellseth’s Story

  I was once a boy. A child, like you. My kind are called the mindoren. Have you heard of the mindoren before? No, I suppose not. But we roam everywhere on Isa. We are on the hills. The mountain slopes. The meadows and flatlands. I’ve not seen your island—of course, I haven’t—but mine? Isa? It is lush and alive. The mindoren are peaceful, but solitary. And although I was a good boy, with no wicked thoughts in my head, the solitude and idleness worked tricks on me. I began to wonder what else this life could give me, and I wanted more. More happiness. More joy. All the time, more. I fell asleep under the dark blanket of night with t
hat word dancing through my dreams. More, more, more. There is only one way to have more. You must take from someone else. Because to have more, there needs to be less. How else would we measure “more”?

  Do you understand?

  I sense that you are a child who doesn’t ask for more.

  I was not such a child.

  I became a thief.

  Small treasures, at first. A berry from someone else’s basket or a dish from someone else’s bedside. But when that was no longer enough, I took handfuls. Then baskets. I had everything I needed, but I wanted more. There is a difference between “want” and “need.”

  You understand. Perhaps the curse of the mindoren is that they have all they need. What is left to do but want?

  But that’s the funny thing, Girl—the others? They didn’t want like I did. Mindoren are peaceful and kind. It’s in their nature. But somehow, it wasn’t in my nature. I became combative. I pulled at my horns when I didn’t get what I wanted. Why should my neighbor have more wonderful things than I did, when my neighbor was no better than me? Why should I have to spend afternoons picking another basket of berries when there are baskets already full? Yes, I know those berries belonged to someone else, but if they truly wanted them, they should have taken better care of them.

  But berries aren’t enough for a thief.

  I took more chances.

  I took many things. Valuable things. Things I will never speak of.

  I took them from powerful creatures, far more powerful than the mindoren. It made me feel powerful, too. I walked with my head held high. At first I hid my treasures away but found that it’s no use being powerful if no one can admire your power. I wanted people to know what I had done, to respect me, my cunning, my prowess, my trickery.

  Gradually I revealed my treasures. Look at this, I would say. I stole this from the great creature of the sea. And this, taken from the nest of the bai. Look how powerful I am. Look how you should fear me.

  What a fool I was, Girl.

  The mindoren are not fearful, after all.

  They are peaceful.

  I’ve said that, haven’t I?

  Instead of respecting me and admiring my stolen treasures, the mindoren took me while I was sleeping and tied my body to a tree. They tied my horns, too, so I couldn’t move my head.

  “I’m not afraid of you!” I cried.

  But I’ll tell you a secret, Girl. I was afraid. Because one of the elders approached me then. He held a wooden spike in his hand. Our noses were nearly touching. I could smell his breath. He tapped the spike against my temple.

  “Your greed touches everything your eyes fall upon,” he said. “And now your eyes shall fall to the ground.”

  His face was the last thing I saw, Girl. I remember every inch of it, from his horns to his chin. I’m sure he is dead now, for he was old then. How effortlessly he took my sight! As if he’d stolen a thousand eyes before mine.

  Maybe he had.

  The pain was so great that I no longer remember it. I must have slept, right there lashed to the tree. When I woke, I didn’t know where I was. I couldn’t see. Oh, how I screamed. Where am I? Where am I? I knew right away I was in exile. We often spoke of an island to the south, infested with vicious creatures, and certainly that was where they’d sent me.

  I am a mindoren, and I know my kind; therefore, three things are certain.

  One: They wanted to make it impossible for me to move freely about the world.

  Two: They did not want to take care of me after they gouged out my eyes, for mindoren live many, many years.

  Three: They did not have the heart to kill me.

  Mindorens are peaceful, after all.

  It took me a long time to realize how wrong I was to act as I did, to covet power and possessions. And I’ve considered how I could repay my debts, even to my own conscience. But how can a man who lives alone, who survives on berries and bark and can barely go outside his home, do this? I am kind to the trees, but trees don’t ask for much. To whom can I offer kindnesses to ease my conscience?

  And then, I found you. Though I cannot see you, I sense your goodness and light. I sense that you are deserving.

  I saved you from the beast, yes, and that was good. You can leave here with your life, and what greater gift is that? But I’ve committed many wrongs, Girl. One deed, however tremendous and noble, is not enough.

  I’d like to do something else for you.

  I’d like to grant you a wish.

  Provided I can.

  There are limits, certainly. But I still wield much power.

  Tell me—what do you wish for?

  I sense your hesitation. But remember, Girl: you can trust me.

  You can trust me with your life.

  Just Such a Girl

  Lalani never looked away from Ellseth. This was a story of a different sort, because this one was true. This man had lived on Isa. He’d been tied to a tree. His eyes were gone. He sat before her with horns on his head.

  What would Veyda do?

  Start with the most obvious question first.

  “How would you grant my wish?” she asked. She sat forward, legs crossed, with her elbows on her knees. “Do you have magical powers?”

  “The mindoren have no magical powers,” he said. “But I still have the udyo.”

  “What is the udyo?”

  He tapped his finger against his cane and coughed. “A token of magic. One of the items I took during my days as a thief. I had it hidden when they banished me, and they never discovered it.”

  Oh, how she wished Veyda and Hetsbi were here! They’d never believe her when she told them. And what would Lo Yuzi say? Not only had Lalani gone into the mountain, she’d been attacked by the beast and then saved by a horned creature with a magical cane! Lalani had never done anything brave, and she wasn’t sure if she was being brave now. Still, this was a story to tell.

  “But—” Lalani hesitated. “How do I know you can actually do magic with the . . . udyo?”

  Ellseth shrugged. “Give me a small test.”

  Lalani bit her bottom lip and looked around the room. Should she ask him to make something fly? Make one of those slivers of bark rise in the air, perhaps? No. This was his house—what if he’d planted tricks? It had to be something that she knew was magic.

  “Can you heal the wound on my knee?” she asked. If he could do that, she would know he was telling the truth.

  “Of course,” Ellseth said.

  He rubbed his hand over his cane and lifted his chin.

  “But wait,” said Lalani. “If you can heal my knee, how come you don’t heal your eyes?”

  Aha. She’d tricked him! Veyda would be proud.

  “The udyo isn’t able to create something from nothing, Girl,” he said. He leaned forward, leveling his eyeless face at her. His voice lowered to a throaty whisper. “And as you can see—I have nothing.”

  Lalani’s heart stopped.

  She swallowed.

  “Any other questions?” he asked.

  She shook her head, even though she knew he couldn’t see her.

  “Let’s get on with it, then,” he said, his knuckles white from gripping his cane.

  Lalani wasn’t sure what she expected. She hadn’t had time to expect anything, really. What did it feel like to have magic performed on you? It felt like a faint buzz, a trembling of bones, a wash of light. A jolt of fear. The stitching of skin. Stitch-stitch-stitch. Like the skillful hands of a village mender. Like her mother.

  And then: Strange images that made no sense. A single tree. The piercing scream of a girl. Words. My udyo! My udyo! And here was a man with wide, light eyes. Sparkling circles that glinted mischief. A devilish twist in his mouth. Hands outstretched, reaching—but not his hands, no. The girl’s. My udyo! My udyo!

  Stitch-stitch-stitch.

  Those eyes. That mouth. Was it Ellseth? No. This man was young and crafty.

  Just as he had been, once upon a time.

  Right?
>
  Stitch-stitch-stitch.

  There was not a moment to consider it, because the throbbing pain in her knee lifted and the images drifted away, like smoke.

  She knew the wound was gone even before she removed the scrap of fabric.

  Her skin was unbroken. Unbruised.

  As if she had never fallen.

  Lalani was so amazed that the image of the man and the girl disappeared as quickly as it’d come.

  “Can you heal my mother?” she asked.

  “Perhaps, but you must bring her here,” answered Ellseth. “The udyo can only manipulate things within sight.”

  A strange choice of words, Lalani thought.

  “I can’t bring my mother here,” she said. Her mother would never agree to it, no matter how much Lalani begged. And her mother could fall sick any day now. How would she make the journey?

  What, then?

  She thought of  Toppi. A baby would be easy to carry. She could wish for him to get better. But what good would that do? If it wasn’t Toppi, it would be someone else. Other menders would still prick their fingers. Other babies would still develop fevers. Her mother would still die. She wanted to save Toppi, but she wanted to save her mother, too. She wanted to save everyone. But how?

  “There is another catch to our deal, Girl,” Ellseth said. “You can’t tell anyone I’m here. You must swear.”

  Lalani wasn’t accustomed to keeping secrets. And this would be the greatest secret of all. How could she hide it from Veyda?

  “If the villagers know I’m here, they will hunt me down and kill me,” Ellseth said.

  “They won’t,” Lalani replied.

  Ellseth pulled the udyo close and leaned forward, forward, closing the space between them.

  “You must swear,” he said again. And if he’d had eyes, Lalani was sure they would have glowed with fury.

  Still, he had saved her from a monster.

  If he wanted to hurt her, why would he have saved her?

  Yes, he had once been a thief. But now he wanted to make things right. He wanted to grant one wish to someone deserving.