Vessel

by Sarah Beth Durst

  As she spread, she became aware of the people: their souls pulsing all over the desert, grouped in areas where she also felt water. She touched the oasis where her family had camped and where she had left the silver bells—and she touched the souls of hundreds of people. Her clan!

  Retreating back to her body, she felt Gray Luck still plodding along beneath her, and the sun battering her skin again. That was the oasis where I was left behind. Only my clan uses that oasis. She’d see them soon!

  You were left behind? There was shock in Bayla’s voice.

  You didn’t come. Liyana tried not to let the pain of the memory seep into her thought. Her clan had done what they’d believed was best. They thought you’d rejected me and that you’d forgive them if they exiled me.

  I would never—

  How were they to know? You didn’t come. She tried not to sound as if she blamed Bayla.

  She felt Bayla churn inside her. The traitor Mulaf must be stopped.

  I want the same, Liyana said.

  You are suggesting a truce between us.

  Yes.

  Bayla was silent. At last she said, Tell me about our clan. It has been many years since I was one of you.

  As they rode, Liyana told stories about her childhood, about Jidali and Aunt Sabisa, about her cousins and her parents, about Talu and the chief and chieftess, about the master weaver, about the goatkeepers and the herds. Bayla continued to prod her for more and more, and so Liyana fed her memory after memory.

  When she was midstory about the time she and Jidali had raced the weaver’s boys up the date palm trees, Raan woke with a jerk. She sat bolt upright, and the startled mare reared back. Raan was tossed forward into the horse’s neck. Korbyn slid off his horse and grabbed the reins of Raan’s horse. He steadied her.

  Sitting upright with ease, Raan dusted the horsehairs off her robes—or more accurately, Maara did. Raan hadn’t had much physical control in days. This had to be Maara. “I hate horses,” Maara commented.

  “Did you speak to your vessel?” Korbyn asked.

  Maara sighed. “She is alarmingly like me.” The goddess did not meet Liyana’s eyes. Instead she focused on her horse’s ears. “Tonight she and I will attempt to reach the other clans together.”

  At dusk they pitched the tent and tended to the horses. Once all was set, Maara lay down inside the tent, and Liyana and Korbyn joined her.

  “You two aren’t going to stare at me the whole time, are you?” Maara asked. “Because that might make it difficult to focus.”

  Maara, you should allow the vessel to have primary control of the body while you draw power from the lake. Channel it to the vessel. Surprisingly, this allows you to draw more power with less fatigue since you do not have to hold the body simultaneously.

  It does? Liyana asked. She knew she was more powerful with Bayla, but for Bayla to be more powerful with her . . .

  Bayla’s voice was so soft that Liyana could barely sense it. It has been my observation that we are more effective together than not. Quit wallowing in self-satisfaction, and repeat my instructions.

  Liyana obeyed, and Maara closed her eyes. Her back arched and then spasmed, and then her eyes popped open. “Oh, oh, I can feel my legs! And my fingers and toes!” Raan.

  Liyana squeezed her hand. “Welcome back, Raan.”

  Raan smiled at both of them. “Walk me through what I’m supposed to do.”

  “Maara will fill you with magic,” Liyana said, “and you use that to spread yourself. You don’t even need to enter a trance! You’re going to love it. It’s a tremendous feeling.”

  Raan rolled her eyes. “Korbyn, explain it, please. Clearly.”

  Korbyn talked her through what she should envision. She’d be expanding her consciousness exactly as Liyana had done to locate the Goat Clan.

  “You can do it,” Liyana said. “Just make sure you maintain awareness of your body.” She tucked blankets around Raan and propped up her head so she’d be comfortable. “Do you want to eat first? Cactus? Baked rat? Tuber cakes?”

  “As mouthwateringly tempting as all that sounds, no,” Raan said. “I want to get this over with. I’m not supposed to be mentally wandering the desert. It’s unnatural.”

  “You sound like Pia,” Liyana said. She meant to say it lightly, but she couldn’t say Pia’s name without her voice cracking. Oyri never had the chance to speak with Pia and know how amazing her vessel truly was.

  “Let’s do this,” Raan said. She closed her eyes.

  Liyana watched Raan’s chest rise and fall in a slow, even rhythm. Korbyn leaned back and rested his eyes. Liyana supposed he had the right idea. There was nothing for them to do but wait. Bayla?

  Yes, vessel?

  I told you about me and my clan. What about you?

  There was a pause. I do not know what you mean.

  Tell me about yourself.

  She felt Bayla’s reaction: startled at first and then a rush of pleasure. I have so many memories, the goddess mused.

  Pick your favorite.

  Bayla told her of the time she saved a chief and chieftess’s son over a thousand years ago. One week before he should have been born, his heart quit. It had not formed properly. And so Bayla used magic to finish its growth, but because his body had died, there was no soul in his tiny, unborn body. So she reached into the Dreaming and retrieved a soul for him. With his reincarnated soul, he became the very first magician.

  She followed this with another tale of divine heroism, and then another.

  Korbyn said he makes you laugh, Liyana said. Tell me about a time that you laughed.

  Once, Korbyn masqueraded as a donkey. He attended an assembly of the deities with an ass’s head on his shoulders. Such a gathering is a rare, solemn event. We create a vast amphitheatre in the Dreaming made of stone steps with cascades of desert flowers and the music of hundreds of birds. Speeches traditionally wax poetic. Every time one of us said something he considered untrue or arrogant, he brayed. I laughed until my sides hurt. It also became one of the most productive gatherings we have ever had.

  Raan’s eyes popped open. “I lost her.”

  “Raan?” Liyana asked.

  She sat up. Liyana felt her heart constrict. She’s not Raan.

  “I lost her,” Maara repeated.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Maara buried her face in her hands.

  Liyana couldn’t move. She felt as if her blood had frozen in her body. She tried to speak, but her vocal cords wouldn’t respond. She licked her lips and tried again. “She’s gone?”

  “Believe me, it was not my intent, and if you suggest—”

  “Liyana suggested nothing,” Korbyn said. He placed his hands on Maara’s shoulders. “I am to blame for not preparing her better. She had never successfully touched the lake. I thought if we removed that element . . .”

  “She spread across the desert, and she didn’t stop. I felt her . . . dissolve.”

  Liyana crossed her legs and closed her eyes. Feed me magic, Bayla. I am going to find her.

  You could lose yourself as well.

  I didn’t before. Besides, then you’d get what you want, right? Everybody wins. Feed me as much magic as you can. Please.

  As you wish.

  The magic roared inside her like a wall of water crashing over her and filling her mind and her body with its sweet touch. She anchored herself inside her body and then she let the magic stretch her.

  Tethered to her body, she skimmed over the desert. She knew what she had felt earlier in the day, so she was looking for anything different. A whisper maybe. A wind that blew in the wrong direction. She didn’t know what a lost soul would feel like— or worse, lost pieces of a soul.

  She headed southwest toward the Dog Clan. In the distance, she felt an oasis. She aimed for it. Closer, she could feel that it was filled with the souls of people. She spread herself throughout the clan.

  Listening, she heard a voice, the familiar tone of Raan’s voice. She wrapped hersel
f around it. Now that she knew the feel of Raan’s soul, she spotted its pieces more easily. She gathered them together like pulling droplets of water out of the earth. The pieces adhered to each other. Soon there was a swirling vortex.

  Come back with me, Liyana thought at the swirl that was Raan.

  She felt sorrow oozing from the stray bits of thought.

  Maara understands now, Liyana told her. You can return to your body.

  Softly Bayla said, I don’t know if she can. Her grasp on her body was already failing. She has lost the feel of it.

  You have to try, Liyana thought at Raan.

  She’s whole now, Bayla said. Her voice was gentle. You have helped her. Now it’s time to let her go to the Dreaming.

  No! Come back with me, Raan. I’ll guide you. You can do this. I won’t give up on you.

  The swirl that was Raan spun faster, knitting tighter together. Raan then sped across the desert, leaving behind the oasis. Liyana sped after her toward the mountains.

  Raan, no! Liyana said.

  Let her go, Bayla said. She feels the pull of the Dreaming.

  But she doesn’t want to die!

  If you follow her, you will be pulled in too, Bayla said. Your hold on yourself already weakens.

  Liyana slowed. She felt her link to her body. It vibrated like a silk thread pulled taut. She was spread too thin, too far. Soon the magic would fail like it had when she’d stretched herself to see the empire’s encampment. I can’t give up!

  Once, there was a fish who learned how to walk on land. He crawled out of the ocean and onto the beach. He explored the meadows and the forests. After many, many days and nights of walking, he crossed the plains and entered the desert. A raven stopped him at the border and said, “You appear lost, little fish with legs.” And the fish replied, “Oh no, I am home.” And so the first lizard entered the desert.

  What is your point? Liyana asked. Raan’s soul was flowing faster toward the mountains. She could sense her as if she were a bird against the backdrop of the sunset.

  Raan has moved on. Let her go.

  Liyana felt Bayla’s soul fold around her. Pulled, she retreated into her body. The excess magic fell away as Liyana huddled within her own skin. She curled into a ball and cried. After a little while, she felt Korbyn curl himself against her and wrap his arms tight around her.

  Bayla was silent.

  * * *

  None of them spoke much as they journeyed on.

  With three of them capable of magic, they did not need to stop for longer than it took to rest themselves and the horses. The miles flew by.

  After only two days of travel, Liyana saw the silhouette of the oasis, black against the bleached blue sky. Soon she saw the outline of tents. She increased her horse’s speed to a trot and then to a canter. Sand bloomed under Gray Luck’s hooves. The others followed.

  As she got closer, she saw people between the familiar outline of tents. She felt her mouth go dry, and she drank in the view. Goats bleated. She saw children run to the edge of camp and point. By the time she was close enough to see faces, men and women had joined the children.

  “Mother! Father!”

  Liyana dismounted before Gray Luck halted. She landed on her knees, and then she scrambled to her feet and ran toward her parents. She ripped off her head cloth so they could see her face.

  “Liyana!” Jidali shoved through the adults and ran across the sand. She dropped to the ground in front of him, and her little brother leaped into her arms. “Is it you? Is it really, really you?”

  “It’s me,” Liyana said.

  Jidali hugged her hard.

  She heard a moan sweep through the clan like the wind. A few wailed. Others turned away. Vessel, perhaps you should tell them that I am here as well, Bayla suggested.

  “Not just me, though,” Liyana said. “Bayla is inside me.”

  Talu elbowed and pushed to the front. She fell to her knees in front of Liyana and touched her face. “My goddess? How . . . how is this possible?”

  “I have a story to tell you, to tell all of you,” Liyana said. She rose to her feet. “But first, this is Korbyn, god of the Raven Clan, and this . . . this is Maara, goddess of the Scorpion Clan.”

  Chieftess Ratha approached. “We bid you welcome to the Goat Clan. Join us for the sharing of tea.” She signaled to several boys in the group. “We will tend to your mounts.” Ger and two other boys ran up to claim their horses.

  Wordlessly Father embraced her. She buried her face in his shoulder and breathed him in. She felt as if she were inhaling every memory of her childhood.

  “Good to see you found our pack,” Mother said.

  Jidali tugged on her sleeve. “Did you use my knife?”

  “Your knife saved our goddess,” Liyana said. She took his hand, and he squeezed with all the strength in his small fingers. “Come, I’ll tell you everything.”

  Jidali skipped next to her. “We found your bells! We buried them under the largest palm tree for your funeral. I got to say the burial prayer. I didn’t miss any words!”

  “Um, that’s wonderful, Jidali.”

  Several people wanted to touch her as she passed, as if to reassure themselves that she was not a dream. A few bowed. Others kept their distance, as if she were dangerous. The master weaver blocked her children with her broad skirts.

  Liyana was swept toward the council tent. Blankets were laid outside in the shade of the tent walls, and tea was served. Korbyn and Maara sat on either side of her, and Jidali positioned himself by her feet and would not move.

  Fanning out around her, the clan quieted.

  All of a sudden she could not think of what to say. Squeezing her hand, Korbyn smiled encouragingly. For once, she was certain that he was seeing her, not Bayla.

  Begin with this, Bayla said. On the day she was to die . . .

  “On the day she was to die,” Liyana said, “a vessel woke to see the sun. . . .”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  With Bayla, Liyana filled the well. Korbyn caused the dates to ripen. Maara drew various rodents, snakes, and birds to the camp for meat. After feasting with the clan, Korbyn and Maara were led to guest tents, and Liyana was given her old sleeping roll in her family’s tent. She collapsed into her blankets and was asleep instantly.

  She woke to the smell of flatbread cooking on the family fire pit, and for an instant she thought she’d dreamed it all. I missed that bread, Bayla said.

  Liyana sat up.

  “Ooh, you’re awake!” Aunt Sabisa bustled toward her. “You have been using your hair as a nest for rodents and birds.” She whipped out a metal-toothed comb.

  Liyana shrank back. “Isn’t that the goats’ comb?”

  “You have goat’s hair.” Aunt Sabisa stabbed it into the thick of Liyana’s hair and yanked. “Hold still. Bayla will thank me for this.”

  Please thank her for me, Bayla said, amused.

  Relaying the message, Liyana winced as Aunt Sabisa tugged on a clump of hair. “Are Korbyn and Maara awake?”

  “Both went into the chief and chieftess’s tent an hour ago.”

  Liyana stood up with the brush dangling from a clump of hair. “I should join them!”

  “Sit down, Liyana, I’m not finished. You do not need to join them. You talked enough yesterday. Let them speak their fill.”

  Out of habit Liyana obeyed. She felt Bayla’s amusement bubble inside her. Clearly, Liyana said, you have never tried disobeying Aunt Sabisa.

  “Is it true what you said last night?” Aunt Sabisa asked. “She is inside of you?” She wiggled the brush through a thick snarl.

  “Yes, of course,” Liyana said. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

  “Except for the time you sneaked a slice of my pie.”

  “I was six.”

  “And the time you borrowed my finest scarf without asking.”

  “Four years old.”

  “And when you let the goats out of the pen.”

  “Maybe a bit more recently,”
Liyana said, “but in fairness, it was an accident.”

  “And then there was the incident with the chickens. . . .”

  Bayla’s laughter felt like a spring of bubbles. You are beginning to lose credibility with me. Liyana realized she had never heard her goddess laugh.

  “I have never lied about anything important,” Liyana said, smiling.

  Aunt Sabisa laid down the brush. “Then do not lie to me now. Am I dying?”

  Liyana could only gape at her. “You . . . you look well. Have you been sick?”

  “I have pains.” She held up her hand, and she demonstrated closing her fingers to her thumb. Her hand shook, and the thumb barely grazed her other fingertips. “I suspect it is age, but I worry it is more.”

  Look inside her, Bayla said. Liyana felt a tendril of magic flow into her. She held Aunt Sabisa’s shoulders and let her awareness wash over her aunt.

  What do I look for? Liyana asked.

  Anything that is not your aunt. You will know it when you see it.

  Liyana swept through Aunt Sabisa’s body. Blood flowed through the veins. Some veins had thick walls. One had lumps. But the stream still continued through. Her lungs had flecks inside, like soot from the fire. Liyana snaked down her intestines.

  Suddenly Liyana flinched at the touch of coldness from within Aunt Sabisa. A spiderlike spread of cold flesh clung to the insides of her intestines. What is it?

  Death, eating her.

  Liyana shrank back from it. How do I get rid of it? She circled around the spiderlike lump and saw that little tentacles stretched over the whole surface of the intestines. Minuscule bits circulated in her bloodstream.

  It is not in its nature to vanish, Bayla said. Magic can only encourage what nature allows. I am deeply sorry, Liyana.

  But there must be something! She’s your clan! First, Pia and Fennik. Then Raan. And now Aunt Sabisa. What was the point of having deities and knowing magic if you were still helpless when it mattered? For a moment, that question filled Liyana, and she couldn’t breathe.

  We might be able to slow its growth, Bayla said, her voice gentle in Liyana’s head, but we’ll have to repeat the treatment daily. It is an expenditure of time and effort we can ill afford now.