Despite the rain beading on her face, Lana had raised the resincoated paper covering the window and rested her elbows on the sill. She watched the frothy gray waves lap against the docks, making the moored ships creak and groan like tortured souls. She sighed and used her finger to smear the beads of water on the stone sill into the pictograph for "help" without really thinking. She shook her head and wiped it away with her sleeve. It was cold-but she was always cold lately, and she wondered if the chill would ever leave her bones. The gray sky was growing dark without an accompanying sunset. She had loved the rain back on her island, but here it was merely depressing-no cacophony of thunder and rain, only a desultory drizzle that went on for days and seeped into her soul like fog. How could anyone live here? Even the harbor water was too foul and cold to swim in. She longed to kick her legs against the water and tunnel far beneath the surface, to hold that precious breath of air as long as possible while exploring like a fish. Instead, she was stuck in this tiny apartment with cracked floorboards and peeling whitewash.
Below, a woman dressed in the bright purple and pink of one of the council member's houses hurried down the dock to a fish stall and commenced haggling. She was probably a housekeeper or a cook's assistant, sent out to buy dinner for that evening. Lana's stomach began to growl as she thought of the delicacies that family probably took as commonplace. Today was her birthday, but even if they could have afforded it, she was too weak to go out and haggle for food in this rain. Ever since she had collapsed five weeks ago, she had steadily improved, but even a few laps up and down their tiny apartment exhausted her. Much as she longed to work and help ease the strain that never seemed to leave her mother's eyes, she knew she still wasn't well enough. Something had been bothering Leilani lately, but every time Lana asked her about it she just shook her head and changed the subject. Sometimes she came back home late with bruises on her face and arms, but she would never say how she got them. Lana was scared for her mother, but she felt utterly powerless to help her.
Heavy pellets of rain splattered against her face. Lana shivered and went to get a quilt to wrap around her body. It was nearly dark outside, and when she looked back down at the docks the only light came from the wavering street lamps lining the harbor. Minutes later, she finally saw her mother's unmistakable worn gray coat moving through the streets just below their boarding house. But instead of going inside, she headed toward the docks where the fisherwomen were closing their stalls. Lana stared. Where had her mother found the money to buy them fish? She was further shocked when she saw her mother purchase one the size of her arm. It must have cost nearly a hundred kala! Had Leilani been saving up for special treat on her birthday? Lana would have jumped up and down if she hadn't been so tired.
Her mother, burdened by her heavy load, slowly made her way home from the docks. Before she could reach the boarding house, a strange man wearing a sailor's scarf almost casually hooked her arm and dragged her around to face him. At first Lana was just confused, but her shivering redoubled when she realized that her mother was struggling to get away from him. He laughed and then pulled so hard on Leilani's elbow that she cried out. Who was this man? Why wasn't anybody helping her mother? Leilani spat in his face. He slapped her.
Lana dropped the quilt from around her shoulders and hurried to put on her shoes. Her legs wouldn't move quite as quickly as she wanted them to, but she made her way down the wooden stairs and past the landlady within a minute. Outside, she had to squint to see past the rain, but it wasn't hard to find her mother.
"Let go of me, Keisano," Leilani was saying shrilly, trying to wrench herself from his grip.
"You didn't say that last night when you needed the money," he said, placing one hand very deliberately on her mother's buttock and squeezing.
On one level it didn't make any sense at all, but on another it felt like the confirmation of a terrible nightmare. Shivering in the rain and resisting the urge to cough, Lana knew she had to do something before she lost all of her energy and her nerve.
Before she could really think about it, she ran behind the tall, horrible man and hauled him away from her mother by the waist. Leilani looked stunned, and hadn't found her voice when the man broke free of Lana's grip and rounded on her angrily.
He was very drunk, but unfortunately, it just seemed to make him angrier rather than unsteady.
"Bitch," he growled, and swung his fist into Lana's cheek. She didn't even have time to react. Rain drummed on her forehead, and wet mud from the gravel road seeped into her back. How had she gotten there? She tried to get up, but her limbs felt like jelly. Her jaw throbbed. Distantly, she heard a cacophony of shouts and footsteps-had the townspeople finally decided to help them? Then her mother was kneeling next to her and holding her head in her lap, telling her that everything was going to be okay.
And even through her haze of pain and burgeoning weakness, Lana heard the emptiness behind her mother's words.
Leilani didn't think she would ever get over the mingled fear and pride she had felt when she saw Lana fling herself on Keisano-a strong and dangerously drunk man nearly twice her size-with the ferocity of a tiger. And she also didn't think there was a punishment anywhere in the islands suitable for someone who would hit a sick girl hard enough to dislocate her jaw. Certainly not whatever slap on the wrist Keisano would get from the dockside courts.
But her next days turned into unhinged hours sitting beside Lana's sleeping mat, heating bricks on the stove, wiping her forehead, and helping her drink as much of the medicinal tea as she could get down. Upon hearing what had happened-and the sensational character of the tale had helped it travel quickly-the doctor had come to visit Leilani personally, to give her more of the medicine and to straighten Lana's jaw. He told Leilani, much to her relief, that the relapse wasn't as serious as it could have been and that Lana would recover much more quickly this time. It was a relief, but sitting here by her bedside hour after hour it was hard to believe. The owner of the hookah lounge had turned her away that first morning, saying that she knew what it was like to have daughters and not to worry about her salary for the next week. The doctor wouldn't take any payment for his services, either. Leilani didn't quite know what to make of such charity-it was against her nature to take handouts, but then, she had never been so desperate.
Leilani woke the second morning after the incident to discover that Lana was already awake and leaning against the apartment wall, huddled in her blankets.
"You shouldn't be up," Leilani said.
Lana shook her head. "I'm tired of lying down." Her words were slightly distorted because she still couldn't open her mouth very wide. The doctor had said that most of the pain and the swelling would go away within a week.
"Why aren't you at work?" Lana asked, almost sullenly.
"They let me off this week so I could take care of you."
Lana looked at her, a terrible pain in her eyes that made Leilani want to cry. "I suppose you have enough money saved up, after all," she said, very deliberately.
The words hit Leilani with a physical force. She had prayed that Lana hadn't understood Keisano that night.
"Lana, I ..."
"I'm right, aren't I? That man ... that sailor. You slept with him? And others ... many others? For how long?"
The question startled her into an answer. "Five weeks."
Her daughter closed her eyes. "Since I got sick, then."
Leilani felt a brief surge of anger. "Of course only since then! I did this to pay for your medicine-to save your life!"
Lana's brittle laugh turned into a coughing fit and Leilani helped her lie back down. "I was hoping ... that was why," she said softly. "Isn't it funny, Mama? Would you have believed any of this a year ago? How much we've changed?"
"We haven't changed, Lana. The world has changed around us, but nothing will ever change how much I love you. Ever."
Leilani stood and walked to the stove. Behind her, Lana stirred.
"I love you too, Mama," she said. And then, more softly,
"Thank you."
Leilani walked slowly through the Alley, looking at the seemingly endless parade of bizarre items in each stall and enjoying the unusually pleasant day. The salty air and warm breeze drifting with the scent of orchids lulled her mind into complacency, made her think that they would survive this ordeal after all. She was expecting a letter from Kapa on the next merchant ship-maybe they would be able to join him soon, and everything would be all right again. She passed a fortune tellers' stall and paused, drawn by the curious sight of brightly colored books that looked to be freshly printed.
She fingered an embossed red leather cover, titled The Adventures of Pirate Lo. The one below it was blue-a more staid account of the era of spirit binding.
"Fresh from Essel," said the strangely grating voice of the woman behind the stall. Leilani froze for a moment, filled with inexplicable unease. Where had she heard that voice before? She looked up. The woman's right sleeve was empty, she saw, and the brief feeling that she had met this woman before faded. Surely she would have remembered a one-armed fortune teller. She shivered and shifted her eyes away from the empty sleeve. Most such people were merely victims of tragic accidents, but Leilani had lived most of her life on the outer islands, and she knew enough about the spirits to understand the darker side of sacrifice. The hardness in this woman's brown eyes made Leilani wary. Still, she hid her discomfort and nodded amiably. She was only browsing, after all.
"They would be perfect for a sick little girl, too weak to go out but bored being alone."
Leilani looked up sharply and fought the urge to run away. The book fell numbly from her fingers. "How did you ... ?"
The woman laughed and waved her hand self-deprecatingly. Her long brown hair was pulled into a large braided bun at the back of her neck, a severe style that did nothing for her already plain face. "Fortune teller," she said, tapping the sign with her finger. "It's my job to know things ordinary people wouldn't."
Or aren't supposed to know, Leilani thought. But she shook her head and smiled politely. "Thanks just the same. I've no desire to have my fortune read."
The lady looked at her appraisingly. "Then how about your prayers answered?"
Despite herself, Leilani was intrigued. "What do you mean?"
"Come" She gestured to the area curtained off in back of her stall. "I can explain in there."
Leilani hesitated. "I have no money."
"Money isn't always useful. Come sit with me over tea. If you don't think I've offered you what you've always wanted, then you're free to go without paying a kala. If you want it ... we'll negotiate."
Leilani knew she should decline, but something in those hard brown eyes beckoned her. She was feeling hopeful today, more hopeful than she'd felt in months; maybe this strange woman could help.
The only light in the in the stall filtered in through the heavy curtains and fell in such a way as to cast the one-armed woman's face in almost complete shadow. Dust kicked up from the black tablecloth floated in the bars of light, swirling lazily into almostshapes. It tickled Leilani's nose and she fought the urge to sneeze. The woman reached under the table and pulled out a crudely made wooden bowl, darkened and pockmarked with age. Then she took a pitcher of water and poured until the bowl was half-filled.
"What do you most wish to see?" the woman asked her, looking up.
"Kapa," Leilani said without thinking. "My husband, I mean. I want to know how he is."
The woman gave a tight-lipped smile. "Show me your hand," she said. Reluctantly, Leilani held out her left hand. The woman reached into the pocket of her loose trousers and removed a knife. She dipped the blade in the clear water and then, before Leilani could object or even cry out, sliced it precisely across Leilani's palm. A stream of blood dripped into the bowl. It stung, but the sudden rush of power filling the room was immediately palpable. It was similar to power Leilani had sometimes felt around Okilani, but somehow darker-like this woman commanded far more reluctant forces than the native earth spirits of her island. The dust motes froze in the light and the temperature in the room dropped.
"Say the name of the one you wish to see and look in the bowl. Close your hand when you wish to see no more."
Okilani would tell her to refuse, she knew. But recklessness kept her hand above the water.
"Kapa," she said eagerly, and looked in the bowl.
The water swirled and then deepened, until she could see nothing else but strangely shifting shapes in foggy water. Then they solidified into an image of a man sitting on a street corner, huddled in a threadbare high-collared coat that had once been brown. His hair hung past his shoulders in lanky strips and he was playing a sad little tune on a tortoiseshell harp. It was very cold there, and the fingers that slid up and down the shiny strings were cracked and bleeding. He didn't seem to notice, however. In fact, the only time he seemed to be aware of anything other than the music was when the occasional passersby dropped a blue-veined half-kala coin into his sack. Two stunned tears slid off Leilani's cheeks into the water and she saw Kapa look up at the clear sky, as though something had hit him.
"I don't understand ..." she whispered.
"Sad, isn't it?" The woman wasn't looking in the bowl, but she seemed to know what Leilani saw. "It's the fate of most who go to Essel with such dreams."
Leilani shook her head. "But in his letters ... he said he was setting up a shop, that there was a market. What happened? Why didn't he tell me?"
"In Essel the guild determines who sets up shop and who doesn't. He probably spent most of his money on the trip and had none to pay the guild. They have very ... inventive punishments for those who don't respect their monopoly."
"Oh Kapa," she whispered at the water, as though he could hear her. "What are we going to do?" She longed to run a comb through his matted hair, to hug him and promise that she would never leave him again. But he continued playing, his whole body except his hands shivering with cold.
"I don't want to see this anymore," she said, her voice trembling.
The woman ran her hand quickly above the water and the image wavered. Then she gently closed Leilani's fingers over her palm and moved it away from the water. Kapa faded, leaving only murky water in an old bowl, faintly illuminated by the dying light outside. Slowly, Leilani lifted her head to look in the woman's eyes. There was satisfaction buried somewhere within those dark depths. I should have run when I had the chance, Leilani thought. What she had seen had firmly ensnared her, and this strange and dangerous woman knew it.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"Call me Akua."
She shuddered. "Why did you show me this?"
The woman smiled a little. "It was your choice. I never forced you into any of it."
"What do you want from me?" she asked.
"I want to answer your prayers."
Leilani's heart was pounding with fear but she could not force herself to leave. She no longer felt any geas-there was no other power in this room right now beside the very human one of manipulation. And this woman, whoever she was, had manipulated Leilani like a marionette.
"How?" Leilani said, finally.
The smile stretched across Akua's face. The woman reached into her pocket again and this time pulled out a large leather coin purse. She untied its strings and dumped its contents-dozens of large, pink hundred-kala coins-onto the table. Leilani's mouth nearly dropped open. How could this backstreet fortune-teller have so much money?
"This is about 10,000 kala-almost exactly enough to pay for your passage to Essel, purchase some decent lodgings there, and pay the musicians' guild to set up a shop. You would be back together with your husband and he would be able to pursue his dream." The woman picked up each round stone coin and dropped them with precision back into the bag.
Each thunk reverberated in Leilani's brain and made it difficult for her to think. Could this woman be serious? Then she realized what had been missing from the woman's scenario.
"What about my daughter, Lana?" she asked. "She's sick
and the medicine's ... expensive."
The coins stopped dropping. "Ah. Lana. As I said, money is not worth everything. For some time now, I have needed an apprentice ... a vessel to receive my knowledge. I believe that your daughter would be quite suitable."
Leilani's formless fear turned into dread. "But-"
The woman waved her hand peremptorily. "Hear me out. Your daughter is sick, but not as sick as she once was. She needs a place outside this city to rest and build her strength. If she studies with me, she will learn an art that would make her sought after by the most powerful people in the islands. She would have far more in life than she could hope for as the daughter of a starving musician. You will be investing in your daughter's future. And it's not as though I would take her away forever; she can visit you during the spirit solstice. And what do I ask in return for such largess?" She leaned over the table, her eyes gleaming in the low light. "Merely that you wear this necklace, and that you never, ever take it off." From around her own neck Akua removed a leather cord. At its bottom swung a three-toothed key: the ancient symbol of the death spirit, carved delicately out of bone.
Leilani stared at the white charm swaying back and forth before her eyes and for a horrifying moment she almost took it. This was no small obligation the woman was asking, no matter how off-handedly she phrased the request. What bond this necklace would form between them she had no way of knowing, but she knew unmistakably that she would not like it.
With as much willpower as she had ever exerted, Leilani stood on shaky legs and walked to the curtains.
"I cannot do this," she said over her shoulder as she walked out.
As she hurried home, she tried to clear her head of the image of the woman sitting quietly at the dark table, her eyes cold and inscrutable.
That, Akua thought with some satisfaction, had gone fairly well. Considering Leilani's previous eagerness, she had been half expecting her to agree on the spot. But the seeds had been planted and she had no reason to worry about the outcome. Soon enough, Leilani would come back to the one-armed woman, prepared to give her exactly what she wanted.
Racing the Dark Page 9
