‘I haven’t heard the story since I was a child,’ Lira said. ‘Why is it called the Crashing of the Waves?’
‘In ages past all people used the waves to communicate,’ I replied. ‘There were thousands of sapphire trees around, so the use of the waves was far easier. It was only when people began to abuse their telepathic powers that the Lightmaker was forced to limit their access to them. He destroyed the city the people had built from sapphire tree leaves and there were earthquakes that sealed many of the underground caves where you find the trees. Only the most gifted wave-users maintained their telepathic abilities and even they needed sapphire-tree artefacts to communicate with other human beings. We call this time the Crashing of the Waves because that’s when widespread use of the waves ended and people were forced to develop spoken and written languages.’
Lira mused on this while we continued to eat.
After a while, she said, ‘I do believe in the Lightmaker. How could you not with all this around you?’
She gestured at the sky and the distant desert, both of which were blanketed in dusky hues of red-pink and gold. The river flowed gently in the background, with fishlike reflections of dusk darting on its surface. A breeze lifted sand from around some bushes to the west and it sprinkled over us lightly.
‘Is it true that Jesath is heavily populated by Relts?’ I asked.
‘Yes, it is,’ Lira replied, ‘but not all Relts are Zeikas—’
‘Those who aren’t are ostracised,’ Sarlice responded. ‘Outcasts condemned to poverty.’
‘I think you’ll find Jesath is a little more tolerant of mixed religions than other nations,’ Lira argued. ‘In fact it is forbidden for rulers and nobles to discriminate based on religious beliefs, other than to exact punishment on those who do.’
‘An absurdity in itself,’ Sarlice said with a sparkle of mirth in her eye, ‘to discriminate against those who are said to discriminate, but not against those who have less consistency than a bucket of pig slops.’
Lira cocked her head, missing the point.
‘Watercrag does not ascribe to such ambiguous rulership,’ my guide added. ‘It is a Kriite realm of course.’
‘Hard to imagine it surviving tucked inside Jesath where it is,’ I murmured, ‘with a hundred thousand angry Zeikas just across the Reltic Strait.’
‘Probably more than that,’ Sarlice corrected me. ‘And I’ve been there so I can tell you that Watercrag is constantly under attack, but it’s also well defended.’
‘A nation of weapon-bonded Kriites ought to be,’ I replied.
‘Yes,’ she agreed, ‘and I couldn’t think of a better training ground for our warriors.’
‘For a religion that advocates peaceful living, Kriites are awfully warlike,’ Lira observed tartly.
Sarlice glared at her. I jumped in before my guide could make an angry remark.
‘We have a responsibility to defend ourselves and our families,’ I said quietly. ‘No other group has come under so much persecution in the history of the world. It stands to reason that our reaction to that has been, in part, to develop aggressive means of defending ourselves.’
‘And efforts to induce more people to follow you,’ Lira added. ‘Why fight people you can convert?’
‘Indeed,’ I replied, ‘but it’s not what you think. There isn’t some unified Kriite conspiracy to assimilate the masses in order to bolster our own power. On the contrary—we are servants of the people, not rulers. We believe it is our mission and responsibility to show others how to escape from the darkness that befouls this world.’
‘You don’t have to convince me,’ Lira replied with a defensive tone in her voice. ‘I told you I already believe in the Lightmaker.’
‘Even Zeidarb believes in the Lightmaker,’ Sarlice said. ‘But he is as unrepentant of his evil as the fools who follow him.’
Lira looked down, fidgeting with a leather shoulder bag she’d been carrying with her since we rescued her.
Wanting to change the subject for her sake, I asked, ‘What will you do when you get to your uncle’s?’
She met my eyes and held them. ‘I’m interested in starting an advisory service to nobles in Jesath who are looking to extend their holdings in Telby and Siffre.’
‘What of Tanza?’ Sarlice asked. ‘Isn’t that a realm sharing its borders with Jesath as well?’
‘It does,’ the pale-skinned woman replied. ‘You’re quite right, but Tanza is notoriously difficult to access, being in a sinkhole, lower than most of the rest of Chryne.’
‘Because they don’t have the same nobility and maquis social order as Telby and Jesath?’ I asked.
‘Yes—’
‘Nor do Reltland, Watercrag, Jaria, Lyth, Barh, Ravra and maybe others,’ Sarlice interrupted.
‘I mean it literally, as well,’ Lira replied smoothly, ‘because the land is lower than the rest of Chryne, except as it slopes toward the sea. Tanza is really one enormous canyon.
‘Even without the shield it would make it difficult for ordinary travellers to get in,’ she finished.
‘We are heading there,’ I said. ‘Before I can be declared Wave Master of Jaria I have to find out if I’m gifted in the other Astor gifts, and Tanza is the home of the Sleffion.’
‘Do you think you will be?’ she asked, curiosity burning in her eyes.
‘Nay,’ I replied. ‘What are the chances? I’m already Anzaii, Rada.’
‘I’ve met an Anzaii, Tolite, Rada before,’ Sarlice said, ‘and a Sleffion, Tolite, Rada.’
‘I have met Anzaii, Tolites,’ Lira added. ‘They make excellent advisers and guardians for nobles.’
‘One thing’s for sure,’ I began, ‘If I am Sleffion or Tolite I will have a lot to learn. I don’t know the first thing about skyearls, and my weapon abilities are limited to knife throwing and bows and arrows. Even with those, my skills are lacking.’
‘The first sign of a good pupil is the willingness to learn,’ Sarlice replied. ‘Perhaps I can teach you a thing or two about warbows.’
‘I’d like that,’ I said, eyeing her Tolite-kin resting against her packs a few feet away, ‘but not tonight.’
Lira laughed. I stood up, stretched and walked to my packs to fetch a costrel of ale. I offered it to the girls first, but only Lira was interested. Sarlice bade us good night and retreated to her makeshift bed. An hour later Lira finished questioning me about my Anzaii abilities and the two of us also retired. Exhausted from the day’s journey I fell asleep quickly and dreamed of strange winged monsters made of rose-coloured water.
In the morning Sarlice and Lira prepared breakfast together, arguing about trade and politics, female fighters, slavery and so forth. I sat half-listening, with my back against a rock, gazing out at the desert.
In my mind I explored the surrounding territory with Rekala. Rather than overlaying what my natural eyes were seeing, the vision I received on the waves from the icetiger was like part of my imagination, but far more vivid. When I concentrated this hard on the waves the things I could see and hear in the natural world faded to the back of my mind. I didn’t even notice when Lira brought me a bowl of coconut rice.
‘Hungry?’ she asked, jolting me back to reality.
She had tied her black hair back neatly and garbed herself in a tight-fitting white robe. Admiring her figure, I took another few seconds to reach out my hand for the food.
‘Sure, thanks.’
She smirked at me, collected a second bowl from Sarlice and came back to sit beside me. Sarlice ate her food out of the pot, as I had done the night before. She rested one bare foot on Kestric’s back—he was snoozing in the shade of a tree. Rekala padded into the campsite and sat to watch me eat, shivering her skin to get rid of flies.
‘This new female fascinates you,’ she stated. ‘Why?’
‘What gave you that impression?’ I retorted.
Instead of answering my question, she mused upon me and probed as deeply into my mind as she could. She soon go
t frustrated and declared, ‘Kestric told me about this phenomenon, but I hadn’t thought my own Rada-kin would be so self-deceiving.’
‘I’m not deceiving anyone,’ I replied moodily. ‘I told you human relationships aren’t as straightforward as animal relationships.’
Rekala continued to watch my interaction with Lira as the day went by. When it came time to stop and set up camp that afternoon Lira walked past Rekala on her way to the river and the icetiger whine-growled deep in her throat. Lira recoiled and looked at me with wide-eyes.
‘Rekala’s just jealous,’ I reassured her.
Lira pursed her lips and continued on her way. Rekala padded to my side, chuffed and bunted her head against my thigh.
‘What are you doing?’ I asked her. ‘Hasn’t Lira been through enough already?’
Rekala yowled in a throaty way and flattened her ears. Sarlice, who had been observing this from Duria’s back, dismounted and walked her horse over to me so she could speak without Lira overhearing. ‘Perhaps you and Rekala should take a walk alone. Lira has barely left your side in three days.’
I lowered my eyes for a moment, and then looked over at the pale-skinned girl who was stripping down to her undergarments to get into the river. I thought it strange for her to do so within my sight, but I wasn’t about to complain. Sarlice frowned in Lira’s direction as she waited for my response. All the attention I was getting was starting to drain me—I had no idea how to handle it.
‘What do you say, Rekala? A walk?’ I asked out loud for Sarlice’s benefit.
‘Very well,’ she replied, setting off in the opposite direction from Lira.
I took Tiaro out of my earlobe and handed it to Sarlice.
‘I sometimes forget about your Anzaii-kin,’ Sarlice said.
‘When there are no Zeikas around, it is dormant most of the time,’ I replied, ‘but if I want to give Rekala my devoted attention, it will be better not to have Tiaro nearby.’
‘I imagine it’s similar to my Tolite-kin,’ Sarlice said. ‘The voice is more integrated with yourself because it isn’t a living being. It becomes more active when it is being used.’
‘Aye.’
I followed my Rada-kin silently for fifteen minutes and she led me away from the river, down a rock-strewn slope and into a shallow depression in the land. Ochre stones were piled around us, like droppings left by a colossal beast. A channel was cut through the centre of the depression and small plants struggled to survive where there had once been water. My boots crunched on the rocks, drowning out the sound of the wind as it flowed across the landscape.
‘Is everything well with you, Rekala?’ I queried.
She settled down beside the dry creekbed and fixed me with her deadpan tiger stare.
‘I am fitter than I’ve ever been,’ she replied, ‘what with all this marching about day after day. Tigers spend a lot more time snoozing ordinarily.’
‘Is there anything I can do to make things easier for you?’ I asked, sitting down beside her and tickling the immense, leathery paw pads.
She flicked one paw absentmindedly, but didn’t pull away. ‘I’m not much used to being in a pack,’ she repeated, ‘so I’m having difficulty with the idea of sharing you.’
‘I’m always here in your mind, aren’t I?’ I asked, patting her on the forehead.
She lifted her cheek so I could scratch it.
‘Not always,’ she replied. ‘There are some times when I can overhear your every thought, but others when you seem far away. I don’t like it when you hide things from me.’
‘Trees! I’m not hiding anything!’ I exclaimed out loud.
‘Oh no? What about the conflicting feelings you have toward Sarlice and Lira?’
‘Conflicting feelings? No, no, not that again. Listen, Rekala, I barely know either of them—’
‘We barely know Lira,’ she agreed.
‘What has Kestric been saying to you?’ I asked.
‘Nothing. He is even more frustrating than you.’
‘Did you ever consider that we don’t discuss it yet because we don’t know? And it’s… personal.’
‘You are my world, Talon,’ she replied, punctuating her statement by getting to her feet and pressing her body against me. She rubbed her cheek against my shoulder, scent-marking me. ‘This communication we have on the waves is deeply personal.’
‘Yes, but it isn’t personal in a romantic way,’ I countered. ‘Some humans have a very high regard for intimate relations—’
‘Mating….’
‘Call it what you will. Can we talk about something else?’
‘Fine,’ she replied. ‘I think I’m starting to understand, but if you keep things locked away from yourself, just remember I will have a hard time working them out as well.’
‘It’s the way we humans cope with certain complications in our world,’ I reassured her. ‘You’ll get used to it.’
While we were in the desert Sarlice and Lira wrapped themselves in layers of cloth and swathed their heads, but it wasn’t enough to fully protect them. We considered travelling at night for a time, but Lira insisted on staying close to the fire at night where the wolf packs would not approach.
It was a bright, humid afternoon when we arrived at Sarm. Though not much bigger than Tasset it had a style and sophistication like no other place I’d seen. I was suddenly conscious of my dusty worn attire. Would the people here consider me to be an outlander? Never mind that. I have more important concerns.
I set my mind to the terrain instead. Here the River Jarvi clashed with Telby River and split sharply in two again. For centuries the River Jarvi had been the stronger, eroding tons of sand, rocks and silt from the riverbed as it crashed into the higher ground around the Telby River. A single foaming waterfall now delivered vast quantities of water from the Telby River into Lake Sarm, which was more like a gigantic whirlpool of rapids than a lake.
‘The waves crashing on a beach are somewhat like those rapids,’ Lira said, taking my hand and pulling me towards the edge of the wooden platform we were standing on.
‘It sounds like dangerous water to swim in,’ I commented.
Sarlice glanced at us from where she was standing at the sailbarge clerk’s desk. We’d been told that to transport the three of us, our horses and the two tigers across the river was 85 bronze weights, but Sarlice was doing her best to negotiate the price down.
‘I’ve never swam in it,’ Lira replied. ‘Many have drowned.’ Her dainty face was still red and blistered from her time in the desert, her lips dry and cracked. A protective instinct rose within me, and I wondered if there would be a way for me to keep her from such exposure again. She wasn’t used to being in the wild like Sarlice and I were.
‘All right, we can board,’ Sarlice said, coming up behind us. ‘I got him down to seventy bronze.’
‘Impressive.’ Lira’s praise seemed a little forced. At least she’s making an effort to get along.
I collected the horses from a tying rail and led them towards the sturdy sailbarge. My gelding gave us the most trouble, but we coaxed him on with a half-rotted carrot from an impatient member of the crew who muttered about outlanders and their animals. Kestric and Rekala mingled nervously on the decks in the least offensive form they could muster, the common dog.
Sarlice leaned down on the rail, letting the wet spray coat her hair and shoulders. A fellow passenger on the sailbarge asked us where we were headed. I was about to tell him it was none of his business when Lira announced we were going to Jesath. He hesitated, giving each of us a head-to-toe assessment.
‘You’ll not be leaving for a few days, I suspect,’ he said. ‘The viperjays are due tonight.’
A cold shiver stabbed me from throat to belly.
‘Lightmaker, let them be late,’ I prayed.
‘Viperjays?’ Lira queried.
‘Poisonous blue birds that live in the forests of Ravra throughout most of the year,’ Sarlice explained. ‘Once a year, they flock inland thr
ough Sarm and Jaria to the roosting trees in the mountains.’
‘Tens of thousands of the little devils blot out the day-star for two days in their westward journey,’ I added.
‘I take it you don’t like them?’ Lira asked, intent on my expression.
I tried to hide the furrowing of my brow, but my stomach was already starting to tighten with nausea. ‘I… no, I don’t like birds… much. Childhood fear.’ I held up my wrist for her and Sarlice to see the scar.
The grunts of the oarsmen beneath us suddenly stopped and the docking struts butted the floating harbour. A cold sweat had broken out on my forehead. There were signs of past viperjay migrations even here—bird poo splattered across the wooden slats of the jetty all the way up to town. The buildings were also coated in worn-down white and black droppings from years of migrations and subsequent weather.
It had been six months since I’d entered Sarm, the Silver City, but I remembered a good place to stay where Rada were welcomed for the work they could do for patrons. The Silver Shell was near the heart of Sarm at the end of a wide market lane. Sarlice had been there before as well.
Peddlers were busy packing up their wagons while stall owners took advantage of the remaining buyers in the streets, shouting discounted prices for perishables. Scores of young boys and girls and older hunters readied slings or bows in anticipation of the viperjays. Not only were the feathers and bones of the birds worth a certain sum, but if the venom could be extracted soon enough after death, various poisons, remedies and potions could be created from it.
I fidgeted and sighed as Sarlice purchased a sack of bran for the horses. Lira dismounted and offered to take the horses to the stable so I could get inside as quickly as possible. Despite feeling cowardly I accepted, taking the packs off my gelding so Lira wouldn’t have to lug them back to the inn.
Once I got inside The Silver Shell the tautness in my chest and neck lessened slightly. The common room was only a quarter full. Down one end three men sung in a loud yet pleasing harmony. My eyes found three green and black cloaks over the backs of their chairs and a circle with three points on a chain around each neck. I felt a man’s hand on my wrist and realised I had drawn the marble-hilted knife with my spare hand.
Talon (The Astor Chronicles Book 1) Page 18
