Renzhies

by Mara Duryea

  “I had to take a bath,” said Zhin.

  Rilkin tugged thoughtfully at the velvety pointed ear beneath his shaggy brown hair. “You really did murder the paveenie.”

  Now Zhin knew his brother had picked up on something, because Ikalkor had to open his stupid mouth. The amber-eyed Antiminar was as sharp as their uncle.

  “Yeah.” Zhin handed Miranel a stick. “I’m going to unframe Barv.” Taking the kiderrin’s reins, the Berivor led him towards the cooler, drier air of the library. The kiderrin could be suffering a heatstroke, which would account for his bizarre conduct. It was Zhin’s grasping theory, anyway. For all he knew, Shehaz might be causing indigestion.

  Passing through the ready-open door at the bottom, Zhin stepped into the spacious library. A maze of towering dark wood bookshelves greeted his eye. Blood-red carpets rolled down the aisles like arteries. Against the far wall, the iron stairway curved to the other floors.

  Mirilite orbs illuminated the still-vibrant mural painted on the domed ceiling. Seven-eared leypels pranced among golden cherrebellum trees. Translucent leaves decked their crooked branches, filtering the sunlight in drowsy greenish hues. Homesickness washed over Zhin. The mural could have been a depiction of his swatch of woods back home.

  Unbuckling the wooden frame, Zhin leaned it against the beige wall and tossed the filthy blanket next to it. He imagined steam drifting off the kiderrin’s back. It needed a sound massage. Trudging up the tail, Zhin paced across the curved back. It was the best substitute for a soothing bristle brush. The beast purred like a dozen warbling birds.

  In that moment, the recollection of N’Nar’s Terlithin powers jolted Zhin’s serenity askew. Not only could N’Nar detect souls, but he tapped into emotions. What Ikalkor and Zhin had spoken meant nothing on the surface, but to N’Nar, it carried a well of significance. The Sirilith might have lost his memory, but certainly not his brains.

  Good thing Sibare couldn’t Read yet, but he was approaching the end of his resting period. How often had the N’hai Read N’Nar undetected? Maybe the boy’s Perilith powers wallowed in their infancy, but Sibare had required only a sliver of Rilkin’s eye in the vozhrith to discover everything in a few seconds. According to Vijeren, Sibare was “a big sneaky spit sucker.”

  Zhin plopped down on the kiderrin’s back. Gutless awiks, Sibare had had a thousand chances to Read him. Maybe he already knew and didn’t care. What a dumb wish. If Sibare detected the secret, what would he think and do? Zhin loved him, but he didn’t know him. They’d been apart too long.

  Tell them.

  Zhin flinched. “What?”

  The kiderrin, snarling under his breath, arched his back and knocked Zhin from his perch. Several stitches tore loose as the Berivor landed flat on his back. The kiderrin’s blunt claws gouged the carpet inches from his feet.

  Zhin scrambled back and bumped into the nearest book case. What was going on? The kiderrin lurched about and glared at him. Zhin’s muscles tensed.

  With a guttural snarl, the beast charged.

  2

  Worms

  Zhin pitched to the side, and the kiderrin rammed the shelf. Wood crunched as books cascaded to the floor. Not daring to lead the beast outside to his family, the Berivor dashed into the aisles. The kiderrin barreled after him. Saliva whipped from its sharp teeth and foam bubbled from its beak. Its heavy footfalls shot tremors through the floor.

  Zhin swerved around a corner as the kiderrin’s teeth snapped inches from his head. Sprinting down the corridor, he realized he’d entered a straightaway with no openings.

  “Oh, no,” the Berivor murmured.

  The kiderrin snarled in his ear as hot breath steamed his shaggy hair. With a startled gasp, Zhin shot up the side of the bookshelf. The kiderrin leaped after him and clamped its claws around his middle. The shelf beneath its back legs snapped. Both predator and prey crashed in a cataract of heavy volumes.

  Barv thrashed like a toddler throwing a tantrum. He released Zhin and clawed at his own stomach, head, and neck. The Berivor clambered out of reach and staggered for the end of the hall.

  The air erupted as the kiderrin detonated. Shockwaves knocked Zhin off his feet and buried him in ancient books. The air stank like Ikalkor had just belched.

  Zhin groaned. He’d spent all morning hunting, and this was his reward: blasted away by Kinarrin’s kiderrin. A small smile played on his lips. This was ridiculous.

  “He’s over here,” said N’Nar, his voice faint through the ringing in Zhin’s ears. The high-pitch whine presently receded, and he picked up approaching footsteps. Each individual possessed his or her own rhythm.

  Vijeren was quick like a little drum. Sibare walked with a strut. N’Nar’s pace was long and slow, but didn’t lag. Rilkin was light and stealthy. The almost noiseless Miranel reminded Zhin of light wind. Ikalkor trundled along, sluggish and heavy. He didn’t used to be. What a surprise he’d even come.

  “Worms!” Miranel squeaked. “Look!”

  Ikalkor sighed as if he were dealing with inferior savages. “You Metirins need to take better care of your kiderrins.”

  “It probably came from your tower,” Sibare snapped.

  Rilkin spoke beside the mound of books. “Zhin, you okay?”

  “I guess so.”

  Books lifted and slid off the pile.

  “I found Dad’s knee,” Vijeren announced. “Tickle, tickle, tickle!”

  “No!” Zhin shouted. “Stop it!”

  Vijeren cackled and his fingers sped up. The bottoms of Zhin’s feet were padded, and fur protected the tops and part of his legs, but not his knees. Yesterday, Vijeren had discovered how unusually ticklish they were.

  “I’ll throw you in a tree! I’ll hang you by your toes! You wait til I get out! Stop!” Zhin’s cries drowned in tortured laughter. He knocked the books from his body, sat up, and yanked his knee from Vijeren’s evil hands. The boy grinned as his uncle and brothers chortled. A smile forced its way onto Zhin’s mouth.

  Pressing his aching shoulder, Zhin observed his surroundings. The books had saved him from kiderrin guts. Miranel had kept a safe distance from the explosion and fanned herself with a little book. Ikalkor stood behind her, as if the gore could possibly ruin his clothes.

  “Look, Dad,” said Sibare, “there’s worms in the brain.”

  Zhin slurped through the guts and peered into the kiderrin’s skull. Barv had ripped his own head apart before the eruption. The exposed brain wriggled with pallid worms.

  “How it get like that?” said Rilkin.

  Zhin shook his head. “It ate something bad.”

  “Sibare said it ate Shehaz,” said N’Nar. He’d let all the kiderrins in the world suffer worms if they’d devour Shehaz over and over again.

  Zhin tugged at a furry ear atop his head. “I think Barv and Kappi had worms before Bellecaro.”

  Rilkin’s face screwed up. “Was pretty nasty on that ship.”

  The meat grinder crossed Vijeren’s mind. “Yeah. Nobody would clean anything because of the orilas.” He favored N’Nar with big eyes. “Do you think we have worms?”

  The Sirilith clutched the end of his tail, and they both turned to Zhin as if he supplied the answers.

  “Great Cubons, I don’t know,” said the Berivor.

  Miranel suddenly squeezed the book to her chest. “Do worms make you explode?”

  “No,” said Sibare. “The kiderrin got blood in its second stomach. The blood mixed with the Culobbin inside and it exploded.”

  N’Nar dropped his tail as he gazed at Zhin. “You almost turned green!”

  “You still might!” Miranel wailed. “You’re standing in it!”

  Zhin glanced at his feet. “Zhesspet. We gotta clean this up and burn the body. If anything eats him, it’ll go mad.”

  Vijeren contemplated the corpse. “You think something will really eat that?”

  “Scavengers eat anything.” Zhin turned to his bony Berivor brother. There was no way Zhin’s shoulder could handle
the kiderrin’s weight. Even if he dragged it outside in pieces, he’d still have to cut the thing up. “Come on, Ikalkor.”

  “I don’t wanna be green!”

  “You already green,” said Rilkin.

  “You want it to rot down here?” said Zhin. “We’re not leaving until everybody can travel, and now we have to travel on foot.”

  Ikalkor moaned. “I need air!”

  “You finally figured it out?” said Vijeren, taking a step towards him.

  The color flushed from Ikalkor’s cheeks. “Don’t touch me, you little evergrin!”

  “Then help,” Zhin barked.

  “Okay, okay!”

  ***

  Black smoke reeking of sizzling feces billowed into the sultry sky. Golden Sun baked the ruins unbearably white as the little family rinsed in the river.

  “Are we killing all the fish?” said N’Nar, sounding hopeful.

  Vijeren scrubbed his head. “Will they go mad?”

  “I think is as long as there’s no meat in the water,” said Rilkin.

  “What about our wounds?” said Sibare.

  “You have to ingest it,” said Zhin. He sniffed his arm. It was hard to know if he was clean. They’d been grungy ever since Visseria. Only Miranel smelled fresh, like she’d been made in a candy shop.

  “Miranel,” said Zhin, “smell my arm. How is it?”

  She waded over and sniffed. “You smell like the kiderrin’s guts.”

  “Great.” Zhin cast his eyes up and down the river. There had to be a Blue Bush lurking around here. They thrived in every climate. They appeared slightly different from place to place, but retained their blue veneer and served the same purpose: soap. If he found some, they could clean their teeth, too. Hauling himself to shore, Zhin started walking.

  Vijeren hurried to his side. “Wait for me.”

  The Berivor rested his hand on his son’s head. The boy was his child twin, except that Vijeren was N’hai without fur, claws, or the round Berivor ears that other Kabrilors ridiculed from a safe distance.

  Father and son strolled along the riverbank, hunting for the Blue Bush. Vijeren didn’t need to inquire about its appearance. The name was self-explanatory.

  When their family’s mirth faded into the distance, Vijeren gulped in air and said, “Dad, how come even after Miranel gained a soul, she still says she’s gonna marry me?”

  Zhin snorted. “It didn’t go away after she gained her soul. I think it became stronger.”

  The N’hai’s brow furrowed. “Why?”

  “Because a person with a soul loves more than a person without one does.”

  The boy stared into space, as if his mind had been blown. “Is that possible with Miranel?”

  “Look at her.”

  “Oh.” Vijeren kicked a pebble against a broken wall. It vanished into the bushes growing at its base. “Dad?”

  “What?”

  “Did you know a haladon can live up to a thousand years?”

  Zhin might have read about it once. “No.”

  “They’re covered in armor. Do you think a bunch of Sirix with hammers could kill it if they tried?”

  The Berivor shrugged. “The ones here couldn’t kill it, but maybe they didn’t have hammers.”

  “What about poison?”

  Zhin rolled the question over in his mind. “I guess if there’s enough of it, and you hit it in the eye when it’s not aware.”

  Vijeren nodded in thought. “Oh yeah, they have protective plates over their eyes when they attack. It doesn’t look like protective plate, though. It looks like a mirror, so people think it’s the eye. The haladon can see right through it.”

  “That’s really creepy.”

  Vijeren beamed. “Did you know some people use its teeth for wagons? They hollow it out and put wheels on. It takes a long time to hollow out the tooth.”

  “Where did you learn all this? School?”

  “I never went to school. Kinarrin taught us. He never taught us about haladons.” Of course. Vijeren swatted a bug buzzing around his face. “I found a bunch of books about haladons in the library. Do you want to see them?”

  “Sure. What else did you find in the library?”

  Vijeren wiped sweat from his face. “There’s a book on riliths in there. They had pictures. They look so creepy. I didn’t read up on them yet. I have to finish the ones about the haladons first.” Vijeren scratched his head. “I didn’t think books were interesting.”

  Zhin smiled in amusement. “Anybody stuck reading etiquette books would hate them.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Vijeren pointed to a collapsed bridge. “I see blue.”

  They approached the little blue patch and found a clutch of long leaves sprouting on a thick stem.

  “Yes!” Zhin yanked a leaf free. It was squishy and waxy like firm gel. “Get one for everybody. We’ll use this as soap.”

  Vijeren began tearing leaves free. “Kinarrin never had soap like this.”

  “That’s because only wanderers use it.”

  Vijeren tilted his head up in fascination. “Were you a wanderer?”

  “I grew up as one.”

  Vijeren’s mouth fell open. “Keftsla!”

  “You look so thrilled.” Zhin started back to the others. The boy would be exhilarated if his dad were a cannibal, which a wanderer could be. They harbored the worst reputation on Ilo: thieves, murderers, kidnappers, and cannibals. A wandering band could be all or any combination of it.

  “But you’re not evil,” said Vijeren. “How’d that happen?”

  Zhin inwardly flinched. Here was a reminder to confess his abominable secret. “It’s a long story. Chew some up and spit it out.” The Berivor cut his teeth on a leaf. The gel inside released, and coated his mouth with a soft flavor like sweet flowers. It popped like frying meat, tickling his tongue, gums, and throat. The sizzling meant cleaning.

  At the river’s edge, the two rinsed their mouths. The leaves left behind a scent that reminded them of a blue winter sky.

  “That feels better,” said Zhin.

  No sooner had he said it than his insides tugged, like a string yanking at his heart from the northwest. Anxiety shot through the string and into his stomach. It pulsed, like it was screaming. Zhin cried out in horror as he slapped his hand over his heart. He stumbled backward until he plopped down beneath a broken pillar.

  3

  The Tug

  Gasping in short puffs, Zhin pulled his knees to his chest. His heart hammered nigh to breaking through his breastbone. It was like a dormant fear had decided to break out. Great Cubons, what was going on?

  Vijeren seized his head in abject terror and did the first sensible thing that came to mind. He sped back the way they’d come, hollering for Rilkin. If anybody knew what to do, it was his uncle.

  Before he’d gone far, the fluffy-tailed Antiminar and the others dashed through an archway. N’Nar’s eyes were wide and his face pale as Zhin’s emotions lambasted his senses. Sibare carried Miranel on his bare back.

  “Something’s happening to Dad!” Vijeren whirled around and darted back to Zhin.

  Hearing their frantic footfalls, the Berivor’s head snapped up and his face contorted in horror. “It’s nothing!” He sprang to his feet as he waved them back. “It’ll go away. Don’t worry about me.” He shoved past them and hurried he didn’t know where.

  A few minutes later, he happened upon a crumbling slope sweeping to the base of a fallen tower. The Berivor wove his way down at breakneck speed. Small rocks tumbled to the bottom, where they gathered around a shady stone slab broken off from the edifice. Zhin climbed onto the slab and pulled his knees to his chest. He sucked in air and slowly released it, but it did little to slow his pounding heart.

  “What’s the matter, what’s the matter?” Zhin whispered, as if the tug could hear him. He buried his head into his knees. Little by little, the first initial terror faded into calm dread.

  “Gutless awiks,” he murmured in relief.

  Pe
bbles trickled down the slope, and Zhin’s head jerked up. Rilkin was climbing down. The Berivor immediately assessed how he must have looked, decided he’d appeared insane, and groaned. He dropped his head back on his knees and stared at the tower wall.

  Rilkin finally reached him and sat on the cool stone at his feet. He gazed at his brother for several seconds, and then at his velveted feet dangling over the slab’s edge.

  He’d never known Zhin to act like this. It had frightened him out of his wits when N’Nar had screamed like he’d been skewered, and then attributed it to Zhin. He’d half expected to see his brother dead. Since the Berivor was alive, Rilkin was utterly confused.

  “How you doing, Zhin?” he said at last.

  Zhin continued focusing on the wall. “I ate Cubon.”

  Rilkin raked the end of his reddish-brown tail. “Why you come all the way down here?”

  “To panic.”

  “Why you panicking?”

  “I’m not. It’s…” Zhin twitched as his heart skipped a beat. “It’s something else.”

  “What else?”

  Zhin didn’t speak.

  Rilkin examined the Berivor’s huddled position and flinched. “You never keep anything from me. Why you not trust me?”

  “I do.”

  “Then why you not tell me?”

  Tell them.

  “Do you…” Zhin sucked in air and set his jaw. “Do you know what Ikalkor was talking about when he mentioned Grampa?”

  Rilkin shook his head. “I was wondering why you so mad at him about it. Ikalkor seemed genuinely worried about you.”

  Zhin rubbed his temple. “That, and what happened up there by the river has to do with the same thing.” The Berivor’s fingers dug into his skin as the dread twisted his stomach. He couldn’t tell if it was the tug’s or his own now.

  Rilkin’s face screwed up. “You know I always on your side. Up there on the hill is our family. Whatever it is, they gonna stay with you.”