The Pasa brothers laughed.
Bio wiped the rain from his forehead with the back of his hand. “You wanna kiss her moon face?”
Hetsbi studied his hook.
“You know whose face I’d like to kiss?” Dah said, swatting his brother on the knee. “Veyda’s.” He turned his mouth into an O. “Ai-yay.”
“Your sister is enough to make me wanna cross two oceans, Hetsbi!” Bio said. “She uses her brain too much, though, so she’d need some straightening out.”
“We should race home. Winner gets Veyda,” said Dah.
Bio snorted. “And loser gets the sahyoon!”
Dah was roaring with laughter when Cade sprang up like a fish and lunged at Bio, fists ready. One of them landed on Bio’s square jaw, the other on his temple, and soon Bio was down, sprawled in the mud, throwing his own confused blows but not landing any, with Cade over him, and then Dah was there, wrapping both arms around Cade’s chest and pulling him back. But Cade’s anger was forceful—he threw Dah off and Dah went down, too, and now Cade turned on him instead. Dah yelled and kicked while his brother moaned and struggled to stand. It all happened so fast that Hetsbi barely had time to think, but then he did think. He thought: Should I help him? How do I help him? Will I be strong enough? What if I get hit? And while he was working out the answers to each of those questions, Taiting rushed over.
“What’s going on here! What’s going on!” Taiting yelled frantically, pulling at Cade’s arm. His touch brought Cade back from wherever he’d been and he stood still, all but his chest, which heaved and heaved.
Hetsbi was frozen, his bait in one hand and hook in the other. The other boys, too. They formed a small, curious, and excited semicircle around all the commotion. Hetsbi took in the blood on Dah’s lip and the reddening welt across Bio’s left cheek.
Cade didn’t have a mark on him.
All three boys breathed hard. Parts of their bodies were caked in mud.
“What’s going on here?” repeated Taiting.
“He went crazy!” Dah yelled. “We were just sitting here, minding our own business!”
“The menyoro should make him a piler!” said Bio.
Pilers cleaned up the village sewage. They were usually old men who couldn’t do anything else, or men “cursed by Kahna with uselessness,” as the menyoro put it.
“Calm down, calm down,” said Taiting. He motioned for Cade to stand by him, which he did. “Cade, what’s the meaning of all this?”
But Cade’s mouth had been stitched together. There was fire in his eyes.
Hetsbi bit his bottom lip. Why didn’t Cade say anything? Why didn’t he tell Taiting what the Pasa brothers had said? Then Taiting would understand—wouldn’t he? The punishment might not be as severe, at least.
“Did anyone see what happened?” Taiting asked the other boys.
“He went crazy, that’s what happened!” Dah cried, dabbing his busted lip with his fingertips. “He’s probably losing his mind because he knows his brother—”
“Enough,” Taiting snapped.
Dah exchanged a look with Bio but didn’t say anything else.
Taiting turned his attention back to the others.
“Did anyone see anything?” he repeated.
The hook and bait in Hetsbi’s hands were the heaviest items on earth. Cade was looking at him. There was nothing in his eyes that said speak up for me or why aren’t you talking? but words formed in the back of Hetsbi’s mouth nonetheless.
Dah and Bio were saying terrible things about Lalani and my sister.
Dah and Bio were being disrespectful.
Dah and Bio are cruel.
Dah and Bio tried to make me kill a pahaalusk.
Dah and Bio have tormented me for as long as I can remember.
I’m happy Cade did it.
I wish I could have done it.
The words gathered and readied themselves to march into the world. All they needed was Hetsbi’s permission. But he waited too long to give it, and before he could, Taiting disappeared into the schoolhouse with Cade and the Pasa brothers.
Again
Mud. Everywhere. Caked on Lalani’s legs. Nestled in the folds of her elbows and knees. Turning her hair into a thick nest of earth and twigs. The rain didn’t wash it away; it only made more sludge. The worst part? Her fingernails. The muck had buried itself into every crevice, and now her nails were black. But when you’re sliding down a wet mountain, trying to find your grip—especially if your body is already weakened—you need something to burrow into the ground. Hands and feet are usually your best option.
She was dirty.
She ached.
But she’d made it.
The rain fell.
The land shifted.
But she was here, at Ellseth’s. Again.
The door was ajar. When she knocked, it opened. Ellseth was sitting in his chair. The staff—his udyo—nearby. The arrowhead dangled in its pouch around his neck. Everything was as it had been before.
“Ellseth?” said Lalani.
He turned and she shivered. She’d been so determined to get here that she hadn’t prepared herself for seeing him again. His missing eyes. Those horns.
“Is that you, Girl?” he replied.
She stepped inside. “Yes.”
Maybe it was the rain, which still poured outside. Maybe it was the weight of everything that had happened. But the air felt different in here now.
Lalani sat in the same place as before. There were no jarred bulb flies to add any light. The mud was so thick on her body, it was as if she was wearing an additional layer of skin.
“I need your help.” She cleared her throat. “You were incredibly kind to grant me a wish. If it’s not too much to ask, I hoped you’d grant me another.” The mud split and cracked around her mouth as she spoke.
Ellseth rested both hands atop his staff and lowered his chin.
“Is that so?” he said.
Lalani nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see her. “Yes,” she said. “If it’s not too much to ask.”
“Actually, it’s quite a lot to ask.” He lifted his hand in the air and snapped his fingers. “I made rain for you. And now you are greedy enough to ask for something more?”
She wished Veyda were with her. Anyone, really. She didn’t want to do this on her own. But she’d started this whole thing, hadn’t she?
“I’m sorry,” she said. A twinge of fear pinched at her heart. “I appreciate what you’ve done. And I see now that I should have spoken more clearly last time. I asked for rain, and you provided rain. But I never said how much or for how long. It’s my fault, I know.”
Was it, though? Nagging thoughts whispered in the back of her mind: Surely he knew what you meant. Even without eyes, he knew what he was doing. Look how old he is. Look at his white hair. He’s lived long enough to know that you didn’t want him to flood the island. Why should you apologize?
“It’s made things worse for the village,” she explained. “I only wanted the plants to grow. I didn’t know it would—”
“Oh, you didn’t know!” Ellseth said. “How convenient.”
Lalani frowned. “I’ll never bother you again. I promise.”
He tilted his head, as if considering this. “And what do you ask for this time?” When she didn’t answer right away, he banged his staff against the floor. “Speak, Girl!”
The sudden movement startled her to her feet.
“I—” she began. “I—”
“I, I, what? What, Girl?”
Ellseth stood. He seemed taller.
Lalani pressed herself against the wall.
“I’ll quiet the clouds,” he said. He gripped his wooden staff, flipped it upside-down, and tapped the low ceiling. Then he reached for the pouch around his neck. “But last time you gave me three drops of blood—”
The rain stopped.
Just like that.
The silence was immediate, shocking.
“—and you must pay
a debt again.”
Lalani opened her hand, palm up, and stepped toward him, ready to offer more blood.
“I understand,” she said. “I’ll put my hand here, on the table.”
“You’ll put your—” he repeated, surprised and half-mocking. “For what purpose, Girl?”
“So you can cut my thumb.”
He laughed. “Your thumb? You think I want your thumb?”
“I thought—”
“What need do I have for your thumb? I have thumbs. I don’t want your thumb.” He moved toward her. One step, two. He placed a hand on her cheek, like a father comforting his child. “I want your eyes.”
Her eyes?
He ran his index fingers over her eyes now. She jumped back, horrified.
“I don’t understand,” said Lalani, each word trembling in unfamiliar silence.
“I think you do.”
It felt like he was looking at her. Through her.
But that didn’t make any sense, did it?
Lalani glanced around the room.
He couldn’t see her.
It would be easy to escape.
She lifted her left foot slowly so as not to make any noise. Then she placed it gently on the ground behind her.
Something shifted beneath her. A hum, almost.
It’s your imagination, she told herself. It’s your fear.
The right foot next.
Again, the hum.
It came from the earth. As if the ground was groaning.
She’d moved back one full step.
Left foot again.
“If you’re trying to escape, it’s useless.”
Before Lalani could reply—to say what? She didn’t know—the hum swelled into a roar, and both she and Ellseth clutched the table to keep from falling. The world was moving.
“Please don’t do this,” she said. “Please don’t wake the mountain.”
Lalani imagined her village buried under rock. Her mother. Veyda, Hetsbi, and Lo Yuzi. The animals. My-Shek. Cade. It would all be her fault. Again. The ground shifted with such force that Lalani slammed the side of the table and she fell to one knee. Ellseth’s legs splayed out at ridiculous angles as he caught his balance.
“Give me your eyes,” he said. “And I’ll make it stop.”
The growl in his voice—there was something familiar about it.
Kahna roared.
Snap!
The walls were collapsing.
Snap!
Another plank, behind her.
Soon the house would fall on them.
“I’ll do it!” Lalani cried. “I’ll give you my eyes!”
Ellseth reached out toward her, but when a third board snapped under his feet, he went down, and so did the udyo. Lalani snatched it without thinking and immediately wished for the mountain to go back to sleep, hoping the powers of the magical cane would make everything quiet again. She was answered with Snap! Snap! Snap! as the house burst apart around them.
Snap! Snap! Snap!
They were sliding. Kahna was pulling them down. Lalani would have screamed, but all the air had left her body, and then she heard the most terrifying sound of all. A wave of dirt, mud, and branches thundered toward her through the space where Ellseth’s door had been. She clutched the udyo, but Kahna was too strong and it slipped out of her grasp and into the deafening slide of earth.
Lalani turned toward Ellseth and caught a glimpse of his contorted face and heard his pathetic and confused cry.
“Help me!” he cried. “Help me, Girl!”
That’s when she realized he’d been the mountain beast all along, he’d been the one who attacked her. She didn’t look away, though, not even when the wave of earth gained power and they were part of it, just two more twigs being swept down, down, down, as if they weighed nothing, as if they were nothing. She couldn’t stand to see his face, or his hands clawing the air, so she reached for him, and now her legs were above her head because she was rolling, rolling, the thunder so loud in her ears that her head rang, but still she searched for him, she wanted to save him, even though he’d wanted her eyes, and finally she felt something—but it wasn’t his hand, it was the pouch that he wore around his neck, and she thought maybe if I hold on to this, I can pull him out of the earth, and even as the thought crossed her mind she knew it was silly, that it wouldn’t be strong enough to hold a man, and she was right. The pouch snapped loose, and suddenly Lalani’s mouth was full of wet dirt and leaves and she curled herself into a ball, as tight as she could, with no time to think of anything else except how foolish she was.
Only a Mountain
The Pasa brothers had already broken off from the path when the rain ended. Hetsbi and Cade continued on for some minutes—Cade ahead, as always—but when the clouds suddenly cleared, they both stopped and looked at each other. They were dripping wet. They leaned their heads back and studied the sky. Rain never behaved this way.
Their sandals pushed into the soft mud.
“Strange,” said Cade.
The boys continued on and didn’t stop again until they heard the distant sound of thunder. They paused and turned toward the sound. It was coming from Kahna.
Cade put his hand on his ax-saw.
“What’s that?” he said, more to himself than anyone.
Hetsbi looked at the mountain. It stood mighty and tall, but there was something unusual about it, too.
“It’s changing shape,” Cade said, suddenly breathless. “It’s—”
He was right. The mountain was both changed and unmoving, as if one side of its face was slipping away while the rest of it stayed in place. There was no smoke, just a groan. The ground shook under their feet.
Cade’s eyes widened. “Kahna is coming!” he hollered. He gestured at Hetsbi to follow him, then took off at an incredible speed. He yelled to anyone who could hear him as he ran: “Kahna is coming! Kahna is coming!”
Hetsbi ran, too. Not as fast as Cade, but faster than he’d ever run before. Because now he understood what it meant—the terrifying sound and the shifting mountain. His greatest fear was happening. The mountain was hungry and angry and it was coming for them. His heart caught in his throat as he encountered other boys on their way home from school, many of whom had figured out what was going on and were running, too.
Hetsbi thought about his mother and sister.
He thought about how the mountain would feel when it clenched its teeth around them.
Cade ran and screamed—“Kahna is coming! Kahna is coming!”—and others joined him in the warning. The village erupted in panic.
Cade and Hetsbi parted ways as soon as their houses came into view. Hetsbi found Veyda and his mother outside, staring at the sky.
“Kahna is coming!” yelled Hetsbi.
Veyda understood right away and pushed Hetsbi and their mother into the house, to the wall that was farthest away from the mountain. Lo Yuzi told them to curl into balls and hold each other. So they did.
They listened to the screams, wails, cries of fear outside. They felt the earth shake.
Hetsbi saw it all as if it had happened already—the three of them being pushed by the mountain, trampled by its force, buried forever. A thousand images flashed through his mind—his final thoughts, he assumed—but one picture that kept appearing again and again was that of Cade looking at him after the fight.
I will die a coward, Hetsbi thought.
He closed his eyes.
Buried
Hetsbi did not die that day.
He was not buried by the mountain.
He did not feel its teeth clench around him as he crouched in a corner.
Here’s who did:
Ellseth. Bosalene Pasa. Her sons, Dah and Bio. Mora, who’d once known the girl Ziva. My-Shek.
And the menyoro.
You Are Ditasa-Ulod
Imagine you’re an exquisite eel. You are slender, long, and perpetually wet, but you never notice because how would you know that you are wet if you ar
e forever in the water? You don’t even know what this word means. You only know that your world is water, and water is magical and ever-changing. Land is dry and offensive. You don’t understand why anyone would want to live there, but then, we can’t always choose where to exist. We come into the world with little say in the matter.
You are thankful to be a water creature. Here, you are among your people: the maidensharks—with their sharp back fins, scaled green tails, and beautiful cascading hair—who could have been your enemy, if you were a jealous person. And the cantabrito, the sly water spirits who look like vines. Not much frightens you, but the way the cantabrito climb and entangle something just before they devour it can be unsettling—even though they are at your mercy and never act without your bidding. Evil though they are, the cantabrito are your people, too. As are the uga, ilma, and shuzi. You rule them all.
You are Ditasa-Ulod. The water is your kingdom. Your body is a miraculous ribbon with the head of a beautiful woman. Your skin sparkles like the northern stars. Your eyes shine and reflect the water. Your lips are a light shade of blue, and there are gills behind your ears, so you can breathe when you swim. Your hair is an unusual shade of yellow—almost white—and it’s long, brittle, and unruly.
There are creatures here whose souls are as black as the ocean floor, but you are not one of them. You have a kind spirit, but you can be vexed. Certainly you can. Have you killed? Yes. Do you regret it? No. Because it was always to protect your creatures. Your cantabrito. Your maidensharks. Your uga, ilma, and shuzi.
You don’t want to drown the outsiders who try to cross your kingdom, but what choice do you have? You can’t see inside their hearts. If you could, you would wiggle your way in and swim around. Make sure they are worthy.
But life doesn’t work that way.
Yes, the creatures here can be dark.
But at least they aren’t humans.
Waste Nothing
Lalani curled into a ball. A loset tree, broken from its roots, rushed toward her and reached out, wrapping a cluster of narrow branches around her waist. The tree held tight as they tumbled together. When the earth stopped, their limbs were entangled. The tree was broken, but Lalani was not.
Lalani of the Distant Sea Page 9
