Racing the Dark

by Alaya Dawn Johnson

  "I thought you wouldn't come," he signed. "I thought you'd grown tired of me."

  Emea took a tentative step toward him. "I could never ..."

  "Then why have you avoided me for so long?"

  She touched the edge of the cloth and fought for her resolve. "Nahe ... I have something to tell you."

  He looked at her appraisingly. Before she could think better of it, she reached over and kissed him. She wondered if he seemed less enthusiastic than normal, but then forced the thought from her head. Eventually she broke it off and leaned against him, holding his arms around her belly as they stared at the nearly full moon. It looked swollen, glittering on the thousand gold and red sloped pagoda roofs of the fire shrine. New roofs were added every year when the old ones crumbled to dust-some said the shrine dated back to long before the spirit bindings, even before the founding of Essel. She waited as Nahe gently stroked her breasts and then went further down her body. She wondered if she had underestimated him, but seconds later his hands froze and she could feel his muscles tighten. He turned her around violently and Emea was shocked to see how angry he looked.

  "You're pregnant?" he asked, his hand gestures even sloppier than normal.

  Emea bit her tongue to keep back tears and nodded. He closed his eyes and she could see him force himself to calm down.

  "It was an accident," she said, "but I was thinking that maybe ... I wouldn't mind being your second wife, Nahe. In fact, it would make me quite happy."

  Nahe stared at her for a second and then started laughing. Though she couldn't hear the sound, the look on his face was enough to send shocks through her body.

  "Emea, don't be ridiculous. My wife wouldn't hear of it-she owns the house and pays the servants. She might cut me off completely if I took a second wife."

  Emea felt tears coursing down her cheeks, and she struggled to stop them. "But you're a famous professor. How could she own everything?"

  He gave her a patronizing smile. "Dear, you don't understand anything about the world, do you? Professors get paid nothing, but my wife's fortune lets me live the life I want. I'm fond of you, but you can't expect me to give up all that to live with you and raise a child with barely any means at all. Perhaps it's time you stopped being so naive."

  At least, Emea thought bitterly, she had stopped crying. "So ... what should I do?"

  Nahe shrugged. "Keep the baby, if you want, but don't expect any help from me. If you tell anyone that I'm the father, though, I'll ruin your brother. And I couldn't be seen with you after the baby is born, of course."

  A white haze covered her vision. The faint sulfurous smell from the pool amplified in her nose until it smelled like carrion and she thought she would choke. "Do you mean ... that if I have the baby, I'll never see you again? Everything would be over?"

  There was the faintest hint of pity in his eyes that she grasped at wildly to keep from drowning. "I would hate to do it. There just wouldn't be another choice ... though of course, you could still get rid of the child."

  Emea sucked air past her closed throat. Her legs felt like watershe grabbed the tree for support. "If I get rid of the child," she said as calmly as she could, "will you stay with me?"

  He nodded amiably, as though they were discussing an old table in need of replacement. "I know of a woman who sells those things. I could send someone tomorrow with a dose and it would be gone by morning."

  Feeling incapable of moving her hands, she jerked her head and turned away. She imagined that he called after her as she stumbled down the ancient stairs, but he probably just watched her with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

  An errand-boy delivered a package around noon the next day. Emea wrapped a worn shawl more tightly around her shoulders and went to the door. The boy had delivered many messages to her before, but he seemed surprised at how haggard she looked. She had woken up this morning with a fever and a cough, in addition to an unbearable ache in her chest.

  Her hands were rock steady when she unwound the packing cloth to reveal a tiny wooden jar. She sniffed and nearly gagged on the smell. She had no way of knowing what he had sent her, but she was past caring. What else could she do? She loved Nahe more than anything, including her unborn child. She took the vial and walked to the window. She had dropped the carrying cloth there the night before, and when she picked it up now tears blurred her vision. Outside it was a beautiful sunny day. People were out on the drying streets, hanging decorations for the upcoming spirit solstice. It was usually her favorite time of year. She remembered when Kohaku would take her to the central pagoda in the fire temple and they would watch the fireworks explode over thousands of gently swaying paper lanterns. She had looked up to him so much then. She had thought that no one in the world could ever be as wonderful as her brother. She took the top off the wooden bottle and held it to her lips. Then she pinched her nose and forced it down her throat.

  Kohaku came home a little later than usual. He had been informed that his hearing date had been moved up-he now would have only two more days to prepare. The news had made him feel so nervous he stopped by a hookah lounge frequented by Kulanui students and spent a few precious kalas to purchase and smoke some amant weed. When he opened the apartment door, he was first surprised that Emea hadn't lit any lamps. He fumbled around in the near-darkness until he found one, then he went back into the corridor so he could use a wall torch to light it. It was only that second time he walked into the apartment that he found her. She was lying on the floor by the window, passed out. As he walked closer, he saw that the dark stain on the floor was blood-the lower half of her body was covered in it.

  Kohaku called her name, though he knew she couldn't hear him, and rushed to her side. He leaned down and nearly cried out when he realized she was still breathing. What had happened to her? With all that blood he could only think that someone had attacked her, but there weren't any bruises or cuts anywhere on her body. Unable to think of anything else, he picked her up and carried her to her bed. She stirred a little when he did that, and her eyesso dilated they looked black-stared at him uncomprehendingly.

  "I'm dying," she signed when he put her on the bed. Kohaku stared at her. His heart pounded, but he poured out some water and forced her to drink it.

  "What are you talking about?" he said. "What happened?"

  "I got rid of the baby ... and now I'm dying..." She started to cry and Kohaku could only stare at her helplessly. Finally, he went back to where she had fallen, and saw an open wooden vial near the smear of blood. He stooped to pick it up and smelled the lid. Though he had no medical training, he thought he detected the faintly pungent scent of hea berry-a dangerous fruit used by those who wanted to rid themselves of an unwanted pregnancy. Kohaku knew plenty of other students who'd had occasion to mention their need to find some hea berry for girls they'd impregnated.

  Finally, everything snapped into place. Emea hadn't been attacked. She had overdosed on hea berry and now she was in danger of bleeding to death. A sharp groan from her bedroom sent him running back inside-the blood was beginning to soak the bed and she was writhing in pain. He could never afford a doctor-let alone convince one to come at this late hour-but there was a woman he remembered from his early days at the Kulanui who had been a sort of healer for all his friends. If she was still there, she lived half a mile away, above an herb shop. With a silent apology to Emea, he bolted out the door and down the street, managing a twenty-minute walk in about ten.

  "What the hell did she take, rat poison?" Lipa asked, roughly pulling down Emea's pants.

  Kohaku picked up the empty bottle he had found and showed it to her. She sniffed it once and then put it down. "You were right. It's got hea berry in it, and some other stuff just as dangerous. Whoever made that knew the basic ingredients but not much about keeping it safe."

  Lipa's dark face had a few more wrinkles than he remembered, but otherwise she was still the same competent, slightly eccentric woman he had known years ago. She had been known for her short
temper and pretty smile, but she wasn't smiling now, and that scared Kohaku even more than the blood.

  She slapped Emea's face. "Hey, wake up girl!" Emea opened her eyes and Lipa turned to Kohaku. "You say she's deaf? Well, ask her where the hell she got that jar."

  Kohaku nodded and did the signs very carefully. Emea seemed to understand and after a second she responded.

  "Nahe," she said.

  At first he didn't recognize the sign-they had only used it a few times before. "What do you mean?"

  "At the Kulanui," she said laboriously, as though each gesture was exhausting. "Nahe and I ... lovers. I was pregnant, but he didn't want the baby. Didn't want me with the baby. Said I could get rid of it, so I did." Tears slipped out of the corners of her eyes and she shook her head violently. "So stupid..." She closed her eyes and turned her head away from him, grimacing in pain.

  "Well, what did she say?" Lipa asked, stirring a dark green powder into a glass of water.

  Kohaku felt a little lightheaded when he turned to her. "She was ... having an affair with my superior at the Kulanui."

  "And the asshole gave her this so he wouldn't have to deal with his bastard? Figures-you're not so bad, Kohaku, but I always thought you academic types were pretty damn selfish. Here, help me get this down her throat ... I'm not sure it will help, but ..."

  Kohaku knelt awkwardly behind the bed and held Emea's head while Lipa made her drink the green liquid. A good deal of it dribbled out of the corners of her mouth and onto the sheets. The effect of such an intense color against the pallor of her skin was at once grotesque and pathetic.

  As soon as she had drained the glass, Emea began hacking viciously. She turned on her side and vomited what looked like the entire contents of her stomach on the bed. She continued to heave even when there was nothing left to come up. Kohaku watched Lipa pour more water into a cup and mix it with another powder. Emea tried to refuse, but she was too weak, and eventually Lipa managed to get a little bit down her throat. Soon afterwards Emea calmed down and her breathing grew slow and even, as though she were sleeping.

  Lipa, half-covered in vomit, sighed and sat down on the floor next to Kohaku.

  "Damn it, Kohaku ... I don't want to say this, but there's nothing much else I can do. The hea poison's entered her system. It looks like she took it hours ago-maybe if you had found her earlier, but now..." She shrugged and avoided his eyes. "Maybe someone who knows the spirit geas could help-I never learned those, too dangerous. Honestly..." she looked back up at Emea, who was groaning in her sleep, "... I think it's too late."

  Too late ...

  His vision wobbled, and the sound of Emea's labored breathing amplified in his ears until he thought it would pierce his skull. One thought managed to ring coherently in his mind: he had killed his sister because he had not known her well enough.

  She died in the morning. All night she kept deliriously signing "I'm sorry," as though she couldn't be sure that he would understand. He told her that he loved her.

  "Don't blame yourself," she said, toward the end. "Tell Nahe I love him."

  It was a trick of the light, but when he stared at her pale, unmoving body he imagined that her chest was still rising, that if he just tapped her on her head, she would wake up and tell him how silly he was for believing a bad dream.

  But Lipa was still there, packing her things away. This night had added a few more wrinkles to her collection-the bags under her eyes almost looked like bruises. Kohaku was sure he didn't look much better.

  Lipa stood in front of Kohaku with nothing but pity in her eyes. She put her hand on his shoulder. "Is there anything I can do? I'm so sorry-"

  "No," Kohaku said, a little too forcefully. "I'll be fine. I know you did everything you could."

  Lipa looked like she wanted to say something, but just nodded and left.

  Kohaku waited in the foyer of Nahe's ostentatiously wealthy house, noting the tall clear glass windows and the life-sized, exquisitely carved fire dolls, which would be sacrificed in the upcoming spirit solstice after being honored for a year inside this house. Only the wealthiest of Essel's residents could afford such displays, but Nahe's wife had inherited a vast fortune from her father's trading business. Emea had probably naively imagined that getting pregnant would force Nahe to take her on as a second wife.

  He felt curiously calm and detached-as though his real self was still frozen next to Emea's bedside, watching helplessly as she vomited her life away. Thoughts of her honed the hard edge of his anger, but they still didn't touch his grief. In fact, in some distant way, his present situation amused him-he had spent his whole time at the Kulanui looking up to Nahe and seeking his approval. Now he didn't care what Nahe thought of him.

  He heard footsteps before Nahe came into view, his mouth set in a disapproving frown. He was wearing the blue and orange checkered headband of his office, and looked as though he was planning to head straight for the Kulanui.

  Kohaku leaned against the wall, waiting for him to come closer.

  "They tell me you wouldn't leave. You should know better than to come to my house, boy. This had better be important."

  Kohaku's anger grew a few degrees colder. "Emea is dead."

  Nahe looked momentarily shocked. He gripped Kohaku's elbow with surprising strength and dragged him outside the house. "What the hell are you talking about?" he whispered, taking Kohaku further down the street.

  "She died this morning, after being poisoned by a medicine delivered to her yesterday afternoon. It was supposed to kill the baby, but it was too strong and it killed them both."

  Nahe stopped walking and stared at Kohaku. "You're serious."

  Kohaku held out the wooden jar. "You must recognize this, Nahe. Whoever made it didn't know very much about what they were doing, and whoever sent it must not have cared much about Emea's safety."

  Nahe's face started turning red with anger, but his voice was still steady. "So, what do you plan to do? Arrest me for negligence? She took the damn potion."

  "I could tell your wife," Kohaku said.

  Nahe let out a bark of laughter. "You think she doesn't know about my infidelities? It's fine with her so long as I don't bring anyone home."

  "I'm sure she wouldn't be too happy knowing you fathered a child."

  "Well, I got rid of it, didn't I?"

  For a second Kohaku thought his hard-won composure would crack, but he held on. "Is that it, then? You didn't care for her at all? Just before she died, she told me to tell you that she loved you. I can't believe that she would have wasted her love on such a worthless man." "

  I was the only one who would have her! She couldn't even talk. I learned that hand-speak of hers-how many men do you think would have taken a half-formed girl like that? I'm sorry she's dead," he added, looking down a moment before returning Kohaku's cold stare. "But what do you expect of me?"

  Kohaku felt like he was breathing underwater. "I want you to care," he said. "But in the absence of that, you could at least help me pay for her funeral."

  Nahe smiled. "Ah, so it's money you're after. I should have known. But what kind of rites could a girl like her have expected, anyway? Just take her to the fire temple and be done with it-I'm sure you could afford that. If you wanted me to pay for a processional to the lip of Nui'ahi ... well, don't put on airs."

  Nahe patted Kohaku on the shoulder and strode off.

  "I could discredit you in front of the council," Kohaku shouted at his back.

  Nahe stopped and turned around slowly. "Just try it," he said, and continued walking.

  "I have to say, Kohaku, this is really excellent work."

  Under the leaden gray of his grief, Kohaku felt a vague sense of pride. Earning praise from Professor Bopa was a high accoladeshe was notorious for her harsh tongue and even harsher pen.

  "I agree. No one has ever done such a comprehensive study of the culture and practices of the outer islands. It's a great contribution." Professor Totome, the second member of the reviewing committee,
scratched under his beard and smiled slightly.

  Nahe, the third member, sat silently next to the other two, his face revealing nothing but mild disapproval. Kohaku tried not to look at him, instead focusing on the immediate goal of getting through the meeting.

  Bopa rustled through her notes. "This one case you mentiona young girl named Lana, I think-was particularly fascinating. You say she actually refused to come to Essel because of the sense of duty she felt as a diver?"

  Kohaku felt the corners of his mouth turn up slightly-it had been a long time since he had last thought of Lana. "Yes. The divers of the islands take their duty very seriously, although I didn't really understand that at the time. But I do wonder what happened to her ... the reports I've heard over the past few years aren't too promising. They say the water has turned brackish and some of the islands were permanently flooded. There are rumors all the mandagah fish have died."

  "So it seems quite likely you were documenting a dying way of life," Totome said. His voice was scratchy from too many years at hookah lounges, but it was friendly.

  Before Kohaku could respond Nahe stood up angrily and slammed his hands on the table. "Let's stop this circus, shall we?" he said, looking at his shocked colleagues. "You'd have to be blind not to notice his shoddy documentation and lack of attention to established authorities."

  Totome looked at Nahe mildly. "Keep your voice down, Nahe. Of course I noticed he didn't spend much time dealing with the sources, but I felt that his area of inquiry was sufficiently different that it was a reasonable-"

  "His conclusions are also ludicrous." Nahe picked up a sheet of paper and began reading from it. "'The islander's reverence for the mandagah fish is actually based upon an ancient link, forgotten on the inner islands, between the water spirit and these rare fish.' This goes against every established convention-"