Pua stopped and then turned around slowly. The girl looked at her almost nervously, and Pua thought the expression made her look much younger. Even though she was much shorter and a bit heavier than her sister had been, something about her swarthy skin and oddly determined lips reminded Pua of Makani. Pua shook her head and looked at the necklace. To her surprise, it held an unusually large mandagah jewel-bright blue and hung on a seamless chain of riverweed.
Pua let out a small gasp and looked up at the girl. For the first time, she noticed another, older woman sitting in a chair quietly behind her, pretending to read a book while she studied Pua.
"Is that a mandagah jewel?" Pua asked the younger one. "Haven't the mandagah been killed off? I didn't even know they were still on the market."
The woman shrugged, seemingly regaining some of her composure. "It's a special jewel-harvested years ago, before the disasters."
Pua looked down and she noticed the girl's tough, worn leibo. It had been a long time since she had seen any, and she smiled softly. "You were a diver?" she asked.
"For a little while. Too little."
"My sister was a diver too," she said, but felt embarrassed when she realized that this girl could not have given it up out of choice, like Makani. She sighed. "I'm afraid I don't have nearly enough money for a beautiful jewel like that. But ... you're wearing a purple sash ... do you tell fortunes?"
The girl hesitated visibly and then nodded. "It doesn't always work, but if you want one I can try."
Pua laughed. "You won't make it too long out here if you're so honest. But don't worry, I'll pay you first."
The fortune-teller glanced briefly at the older woman. "Well ... how about one kala?" she suggested.
The price was so ludicrously low that Pua almost objected, but then shrugged and handed her the coin. It wasn't her responsibility if this young woman had no idea of how to handle herself on the streets. Besides, her demeanor made Pua think that she had something in mind other than money, which made this encounter all the more interesting. The girl pulled a small knife from the pocket of her leibo and gestured toward Pua to sit down on a straw stool. She then took a small bowl and poured some water from a half-filled gourd into it.
"If it works," she said to Pua as she sat down, "it may not say everything you want to hear. And it isn't always accurate-the future is pretty unpredictable, even in the best of times."
Pua nodded, truly surprised at her unprofessional honesty.
The girl swished the knife in the bowl a few times, absentmindedly slashing the water. "So, is there a part of the fortune you want me to focus on?" she asked.
Pua thought of Kai. "There is someone I ... love very much. I want to know if his mission will succeed. If I'll ever see him again."
"Well then, let's start." She spat into the water and muttered something under her breath. Suddenly the water seemed to solidify, letting the knife slice it like butter without immediately filling in the gap. It was a trick Pua had seen Kai do a thousand times, after his change, but she was shocked to see that this young woman was capable of it. Water clung to the knife. When the blade began to look blurry due to refracted light she pulled it out of the bowl and took Pua's hand.
"What's your name?" she asked softly.
"Pua ... bei'Polunu," she said, suddenly alarmed at the girl's intensity. She had never experienced a fortune quite like this before.
The girl turned Pua's palm outward and scored it with the water-encrusted knife. Water and blood mingled and poured back into the bowl. Something in the air around them had changed, just like the charge before Kai or his father said a geas.
As the water stays a step ahead of the river, so the spirit stays a step ahead of time. I ask the river-dancer to step ahead and look be hind for Pua bei'Polunu.
That was definitely a geas. Its delivery was a bit less sophisticated than what she was used to, but she had never imagined that street fortune-tellers knew such techniques. The girl was silent for a long time and then she began to speak.
"Many paths cross," she said slowly, as though she was repeating something whispered in her ear. "The one you love will not finish his journey. He will return, but the future is always uncertain. Always remember: everything ends. We all will die."
Pua waited for more, but she knew it was over when the water in the bowl slopped back into its original shape. The warm breeze off the bay suddenly felt frigid. She wished that she hadn't proposed a fortune telling-she knew with a dread certainty that this was real. The girl's hesitant half-predictions had not been the words of a charlatan.
The girl sighed and tossed the knife back in the bowl. "I'm so sorry," she said. "It was so vague ... it's a terrible time to tell fortunes." She looked up at Pua with a small smile. "Perhaps I should find another profession."
Pua smiled tentatively back. "Maybe you just need to learn how to make things up."
The girl laughed and reached for the necklace in her pocket. She held the beautiful blue jewel in her hand for a second and then handed it to Pua. "Here, take it. I'll give you a real good price for it-how's fifty kala? I'm traveling, actually, and if I get to Essel with that and they find out, I'll have to answer to the guild and I'd rather not have the hassle."
Pua took the necklace and fingered it gently. The riverweed was seamless. How could she give this beautiful object away for such a pittance? Even after paying off the guild, Pua knew she could get a hundred times more for this in Essel.
"It's a good luck charm, really," the girl said. "It works if you never take it off. It's especially attracted to you, for some reasonbetter for it to be with someone who can appreciate it than someone with a lot of money who will leave it to molder in a drawer."
"A good luck charm?" Pua said. It didn't feel very lucky, but the stone was so beautiful, and it reminded her of Makani.
"If you promise to never take it off, I'll give it to you for free."
Pua shook her head. "No, no. I'll pay you what I can. Thank you ... thank you for doing this for me."
The woman looked toward the ground suddenly, avoiding Pua's eyes as she gave her the money. The necklace felt familiar, as though it had always hung around her neck.
Maybe, she thought as she walked away from that young woman who reminded her so much of her sister, maybe it really is a good luck charm.
Lana felt sick to her stomach when she watched Pua leave. Though Akua had assured her that the necklace was harmless, lying about its true nature still felt wrong. But Akua looked satisfied, and the red jewel on the second string of riverweed around her neck hummed with a strange new energy that excited her. She tried to hide her confusion as she turned to face Akua, who was sitting with a book over her chest.
"That was good," she said. "Although I wouldn't have recommended telling her real fortune-they're too messy and depressing. No one wants to hear it." Akua looked at the sun and then clucked her tongue. "Your boat leaves this evening, we should be on our way.
Lana cleaned up slowly, wondering if Pua would ever know how they were now connected.
Lana's boat cast off at sunset, riding through the narrow strip that separated the bay from the ocean before unfurling its sails and setting off for Essel. If nothing untoward occurred, she would be seeing her parents in seven days. Just before she went below to get settled in her hammock, she noticed a woman about the same age as Pua vomiting weakly over the side of the boat. Her concerned husband finally had to carry her downstairs. The scene made her think a lot about Pua and the benign effect the necklace would have on her. That woman would probably be fine once she got on land, but would it really be okay for Lana to inflict that same kind of pain on Pua, who had no idea what she had agreed to by accepting the jewel? Lana looked at a fiery sunset, nearly the same color as the mandagah jewel hidden under her shirt, and wondered if it would be right for her to use the necklace, no matter what Akua said. Akua's moral compass seemed a little off, sometimes. But then, to have so much power at her fingertips!
I shouldn't us
e it.
But she wasn't sure if she would, regardless.
8
HE EVENING BEFORE THE SPIRIT SOLSTICE, Leilani took a broom outside their small shop and swept the first leaves of the changing season from the porch. She found that she enjoyed the different seasons on Essel, even though her favorite, the hot season, was criminally short. She especially loved when the leaves changed colors-it made the city look as though it had decorated itself in a profusion of gold, orange, and red specifically for the solstice. The air was warm this evening, but it had lost the muggy edge that had kept so many of Essel's residents in their houses the past month. She hoped sales would pick up when the weather cooled, as had been the trend for the past few years. Kapa had taken the downtime to work on a new kind of percussion instrument that he planned to present to the guild in a few weeks. Leilani had continued her diving lessons and helped around the shop, ticking off the days to when Lana would come home. It ought to be any day now-Lana's last letter had said she would take a ship from Ialo within a week. Leilani had cleaned Lana's room in preparation and bought enough food for a true solstice feast.
Leilani felt oddly nervous as she swept the porch, periodically squinting at the crowds for Lana. It had been so long since she had last seen her daughter, and she supposed she was afraid of discovering how much she had changed. No matter how often they exchanged letters, nothing was an adequate substitute for living with someone-sometimes Leilani thought that she had missed her daughter's whole childhood. She could hardly believe that Lana had turned eighteen-she was a true adult, ready to find a husband and have children of her own. Leilani couldn't help but wish that they could have been a real family, but if she had any regrets, she knew she deserved the blame.
Leilani picked up the broom and headed back inside. On the threshold a familiar voice made her freeze mid-step. She turned around and saw Lana, orange and blue shirttails flying, bounding across the road toward her. They hugged fiercely for a long time, and Leilani surreptitiously wiped a few tears from her eyes before they separated.
"I was hoping you'd come back today," she said. "I bought all your favorite foods. Lana ... you look so much older, somehow."
Lana laughed and tugged on her braid. "What are you talking about, Mama? I'm still as short as I was five years ago."
"Still, you look older." Leilani shook her head and smiled. "Come say hello to your father. He's in back working on his instruments."
Leilani watched Lana hug her father and wondered if she herself was getting old. She felt the same as always, though she had lately come down with these inexplicable illnesses that kept her bedridden and worried Kapa into spending more of their money than he should. The bouts of illness had been getting worse recently, but she had never told Lana about them. She was determined to stay healthy so long as her daughter was here. Reflexively, Leilani reached for the necklace that she had worn since the day the witchwoman gave it to her four years ago. The symbolism of the key had never been lost on her-she knew that the woman dealt with death, and that by accepting the trinket Leilani had brought some kind of sacrifice upon herself. Could the necklace somehow be responsible for her illnesses? The thought made her terrified for Lana. It was too late now for self-recrimination, but she still wondered whether she had done the right thing by acquiescing to the one-armed woman's request without ever really knowing what she intended.
Her face must have betrayed some of her worry, because Lana and Kapa were staring at her concernedly.
"Lei, are you all right? Is it-" Kapa cut himself off and glanced at Lana.
Leilani shook her head firmly. "I'm fine, don't worry. I'll go up and start cooking."
Lana hesitated for a moment and then followed Leilani up the stairs.
There was a certain strain around her mother's eyes that hadn't been there before, Lana thought. She had been cheerful enough when they made dinner together-a process that had taken hours because of the absurd amount of food her mother had bought-but Lana still detected a sadness in Leilani's eyes that she hadn't seen since their days in Okika. She wondered what her parents were keeping from her, in their guarded looks and abrupt changes of conversation.
Despite her concern over her mother, Lana ate until she had to loosen the drawstring on her pants. Leilani had prepared some traditional Essel solstice food like a pottage of roasted chestnuts and raisins, a drink made with yogurt and pomegranate seeds, jellied oranges, as well as foods from their island-Lana's favorite grouper sprinkled with dried seaweed, and yucca root roasted with ginger and sugarcane. When she couldn't eat anymore, Lana leaned back in her chair and groaned.
"I can't move," she said, still sipping the pomegranate yogurt.
Her mother laughed, a little too brightly. "I'm glad. You're looking too thin. What's that woman been putting you through, lately?"
The red mandagah jewel suddenly seemed to burn under Lana's shirt and she shrugged uncomfortably. "You know, charms and things. It's pretty mundane, really-I spend most of the time memorizing herbs and potions for medicines. It's not hard."
Her father suddenly put down his drink. "So, you know a lot about illnesses now?" he asked, looking at her intently. "Like a healer?"
Her mother glanced at him and frowned, but kept silent. Lana bit her lip-the tension in the room was making her uncomfortable. "Sure," she said. "Probably more than most-Akua's a good teacher."
"Lana," her father said, avoiding Leilani's eyes. "Do you think you could make something to help your mother?"
"Kapa! We agreed-"
"I know, I know, we promised, but you're sick, Lei, and Lana can help."
"I am not-"
Lana leaned over and pounded on the table. "What are you two talking about?"
Leilani and Kapa exchanged glances. Finally Leilani sighed, as though all the energy had left her body. "Fine, then. You tell her, since you had to ruin the meal."
Her father looked like he wanted to apologize, but then just shook his head and turned to Lana. "Lei's had six fevers this past year, three just in the hot season. She doesn't know what's wrong, and she won't let me pay for a doctor to help her."
"It's too much, Kapa! Especially since I always get better on my own.
"But what if you don't next time? You don't see yourself, Lei..."
Lana felt like she had been plunged into some strange fantasy, where suddenly her parents actually discussed their problems with her, and even expected her to moderate them. She had never so acutely felt the line she had crossed between childhood and adulthood. She had supposedly crossed it five years ago, after her initiation, but she had still felt like a child. Until now.
"Stop it," she said quietly, staring at the table. "Papa's right. It's not good to get sick so many times in one year-it could be something more serious. I'll make something. But if it doesn't work, promise me that you'll see a doctor."
Her mother stared at her for a long time, and then finally nodded. "I'm sorry. It wasn't right of me to keep this from you. You're not a child anymore." She smiled, a little bitterly. "It's really true, isn't it?"
Leilani stood slowly and began clearing away the dishes. Her father gave some half-mumbled excuse and disappeared into his workshop. Lana stayed and helped in the kitchen, wondering why she felt so scared.
Lana prepared the potion that night after making a sunset dash to all of the apothecary shops southside of Nui'ahi. She had found, to her surprise, everything she needed, and even some things she hadn't been aware existed. She sat in the small lot outside the shop until well after the moon had risen, using the outdoor fire pit to make the slow-cooking potion. She made a mixture that one of Akua's books had said cured most fevers. Briefly, she considered using the necklace for the cooling geas, but then, in a quick spasm of guilt, slashed her palm more deeply than necessary to makeup for thinking it. She didn't know which was stronger, her guilt or her curiosity, but she refused to give in to temptation. She might admire much about Akua, but she was afraid of what she might turn into if she followed her men
tor's approach to sacrifice. When she finished she hauled the cauldron off the coals and poured water over them. She covered the cauldron and left the draught on the dirt right outside the door and then trudged wearily up the stairs. Her mother was sitting in the kitchen, reading by flickering lamplight. She looked up when Lana walked in and smiled wearily.
"I finished it," Lana said, pulling out another chair. "If you get sick again, drink a glass every five hours until the fever goes down."
"Thank you," she said. "I'm sorry I put you through the trouble."
"Mama ... never think I could forget how much I owe you."
Her mother squeezed her hand. "Somebody must have blessed me to have a daughter like you."
Lana left on the day after the spirit solstice, when the charms and house-luck dolls all around the city were still ablaze. The inferno at the top of the fire temple in the heart of Essel would burn for the next eight days as officiates and residents said their devotionals to the bound spirit. From the vantage of her boat, it looked as though the city was covered in smoke and flames, with the belching sentinel of Nui'ahi as its omnipresent backdrop. It looked ominous, like a picture of carnage, and not the aftermath of days of celebrations and carousing. Her ship had been sitting at the docks for more than an hour because of the unusual number of ships leaving Essel this morning. This new year marked the transition to a new Mo'i, and the number of supplicants was far greater than normal. From what Lana could tell by peering at the official ships in the harbor, at least a hundred people were all leaving today to travel to the inner fire shrine. Only one would return-the new Mo'i. She had often wondered what would compel a person to take such a risk-could so many people be so sure they would be chosen? No one knew why the fire spirit picked some over others. But as she looked at the line of supplicants-some in their teens and some who looked old enough to be great-grandparents-she wondered if desperation, not overweening self-confidence, led most of them to this decision. And was she so different? But even if life sometimes overwhelmed her, at least she hadn't yet been crushed by its weight.
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