by DAVID B. COE
"I thought you'd he back," he said, when she ran into the small room they used, panting, sweat running down her temples.
He was about the same age as Delon, her oldest brother, although he seemed much older to her. He wore his white hair long and tied back, and his eyes were an even brighter shade of yellow than her own. The older girls always talked about how handsome he was; many of them had been sad to hear that he was to marry. Once, when Jynna heard them speaking of him, she agreed and they laughed at her, asking what she knew about men and their looks. But even Jynna could tell that Teacher was good-looking. She wasn't stupid.
"I was almost to my house when I remembered them," she said, crossing to her chair and picking up the two baskets. The flowers Licaldi had conjured were already beginning to wilt. She'd need to give them water once she reached home.
"They're lovely," Teacher said. "Where did you get them?"
"A peddler gave them to me, an old woman who was in my-" She stopped, feeling her face redden. Teacher was watching her closely, an odd smile on his lean face. "I met her as she was making her way into the village. I helped her carry her things, and she gave them to me."
"That was nice of her." He paused. Then, "Where did you find those flowers? It's a bit late for columbine and lupine to be blooming."
"I… I didn't find the flowers," she said.
"Oh? They were in the basket when she gave it to you?"
She wasn't certain why she didn't want to tell Teacher that the woman was Mettai. Perhaps she feared that she'd get in trouble for merely witnessing magic, even if that magic wasn't done by an Y'Qatt, or even by a Qirsi. And as it happened, the way he asked his question, she could answer honestly and still reveal nothing. "Yes, they were."
He raised an eyebrow and glanced at the blooms. "I wonder where she found them. They look like they opened this morning for the first time."
"Would you like them?" Jynna asked, before she'd even thought about what she was saying.
"What?"
"For you and your new wife." She stepped forward and put the basket on his table. "A wedding gift."
"Thank you, Jynna," he said, smiling broadly. "How kind of you." She felt herself blushing again. "I should be getting home."
"Yes, of course. I'll see you in the morning, Jynna."
Jynna turned and ran from the room, her cheeks burning. She'd thought the other girls foolish for being sad at the thought of Teacher's wedding, but perhaps she wasn't any less a fool herself.
She didn't stop running until she had passed Menac's farm and could see her house bathed in the late-day sun and casting its long shadow across the grainfield.
Her brothers were outside the barn, putting out hay for the plow horse. Seeing her approach, Delon took off his hat and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
"Where have you been?" he called. "Lessons."
"This late? Mama's been lookin' for you for an hour at least. She's pretty mad, too."
She had slowed as they talked, but now she started running toward the house again. "I forgot my basket," she shouted over her shoulder. "I had to go back for it."
"I don't care," he shouted back. "Tell Mama."
Jynna could still hear the two of them laughing when she reached the stairs and ran into the house.
Her mother was at the hearth, her hair pulled back from her face in a loose braid. She looked up as Jynna entered and frowned at the girl.
"I expected you long ago." Her eyes fell to the basket in Jynna's hand. "Where did you get that?"
"I got it for you," Jynna said, knowing that she wasn't quite answering the question.
A smile crept slowly across her mother's face. After a moment she pointed toward the table where they ate their meals. Turning to look that way, Jynna saw one of Licaldi's baskets. The colors were different, but it was shaped just the way Jynna's was.
"You bought one," she said, crestfallen.
"Well, of course, silly girl." But then the frown returned. "How did you get that one?"
"I met the old woman who was selling them. She had two big baskets and a carry sack, and I carried the sack for her, and she gave me a basket."
It wasn't quite what had happened, but it was close enough, and it allowed her to skip the whole magic part.
"Is that why you're so late?"
"Sort of," Jynna said. "I left this at the sanctuary and had to go back for it. I'm sorry, Mama."
Her mother smiled. "You see that we picked out the same one?" Jynna nodded. "I knew you'd like this one."
"Clever girl." Still smiling, she picked up the water bucket and handed it to Jynna. "Now, get to your chores. It's late, and your father and the boys are going to be hungry."
It was nearly dark when her father returned from the fields. Jynna and her mother had just enough time to finish preparing the roast meat, stewed greens, and bread. At first, as they cooked, her mother had asked her questions about her lessons, and also about Licaldi. But as the daylight dimmed, her mother grew quieter and quieter, so that the only sounds in the house were the crackling of the fire and the sizzling of the meat. Jynna heard her father and the boys coming in from the barn long before they reached the door.
They entered the house and Jynna's father gathered her in his arms, lifting her off the ground and kissing her cheek.
"How are you, missy?" he asked.
She giggled. "I'm fine, Papa."
He set her down and leaned toward Jynna's mother to kiss her cheek. But then he stopped, his brow creasing.
"You look flushed," he said. "Are you feeling all right?"
The boys had been laughing about something, but they stopped now and stared at their mother, as did Jynna. She was never sick. And now that Papa mentioned it, she did look flushed, even more than she usually did after working in the kitchen. Her cheeks were bright pink, and a wisp of hair clung to her forehead, which looked damp in the light of the oil lamp.
"I'm fine," she said, forcing a smile. But even her voice sounded weak.
Papa laid the back of his hand against her forehead, then quickly pulled it back. "You've got a fever," he said.
The word "fever" seemed to break her, so suddenly did she double over, clutching her stomach. She stumbled to the doorway and out onto the porch. A moment later they could hear her retching.
"Is it the pestilence, Papa?" asked Blayne, the younger of her two brothers.
"I don't know!" Papa snapped. He shook his head. "Maybe. Qirsar save us all if it is."
Mama staggered back to the doorway, stood there briefly, then whirled away and was sick again.
Papa looked at Delon. "Go get the healer."
Delon nodded once and ran out the door.
For some time Jynna, Blayne, and their father just stood there, the only sound in the house coming from Jynna's mother and the fire.
"You two should eat," Papa said at last.
Jynna and her brother exchanged a look. She was too scared to take even a bite, and judging from the expression on Blayne's face, she guessed that he felt the same way.
"Well?" Papa said, his voice rising again.
"I'm not hungry, Papa."
Blayne shook his head. "Neither am I."
Jynna thought Papa would make them eat anyway, but in the end he just shook his head, and muttered, "I don't blame you. I don't much feel like eating either."
As he said it, Jynna realized that he appeared flushed as well, though she couldn't tell if he was just worried about Mama or if he was starting to get sick also.
Mama appeared in the doorway again. She didn't look flushed anymore. Instead she was deathly pale, her face nearly as white as her hair, and her bright golden eyes sunken and dull. Only the dark purple lines under her eyes gave her face any color at all. She looked like a wraith.
"I need to lie down," she said, the words coming out as a whisper.
Papa hurried to her side, lifted her as if she were a child, and carried her to their bedroom.
He came out again a few moments later, his
expression grim, his cheeks nearly as red as Mama's had been a short time before.
"She's already asleep," he said. "And to be honest, I'm starting to feel it, too."
"So it is the pestilence," Blayne said.
At that moment Delon returned.
"The healer says she'll be along when she can," he told them all, looking scared. "But there's lots of people sick."
"Damn," Papa said, sighing the word. He glanced at Blayne. "Well, there's your answer. It's probably too late, but I want the three of you outside. You're not sick yet. Maybe you'll make it through."
"But Papa-"
"I know what you're going to say, Delon. But there's nothing to be done now. Either your mother and I will live or we won't. But you haven't any way to save us, so it's best you save yourselves."
"I have healing magic," her brother said. "Blayne's come into his power, and he has it, too. We can save you, if you'll just let us."
Papa glared at him, the muscles in his jaw bunching. For just an instant, Jynna thought he might strike Delon for what he had said. "Never utter such words in this house again. Do you hear me?"
Delon lowered his gaze. "Yes, Papa."
"You're past your fourth four. You're a man now. If your mother and I… If the healer can't help us, then it'll fall to you to take care of your brother and sister. You're old enough that you should know better than to speak against the god like that." He started to say more, but then stopped and ran out the door, grabbing at his gut just as Mama had done.
None of them said anything, but Jynna found herself wishing that her brothers would use their magic, just as Delon had suggested. Surely the god would understand this one time.
"So what do we do?" Blayne asked, looking at Delon. Jynna couldn't be sure, but she thought he was probably thinking the same thing.
"We go outside," Delon said. "And we wait for the healer, just as
Papa told us to."
The boys held each other's gazes for several moments, but they said nothing, and at last they ushered Jynna out into the darkness. Papa was still on the porch, leaning heavily on the railing. They didn't speak, though all three of them stared back at him as they descended the stairs. Eventually he went back into the house, leaving them alone in the cool night air. The sky was clear and the moons shone overhead, both of them still well short of full.
"What if they die?" Jynna asked, starting to cry.
Blayne shook his head. "They're not going to die." But he wouldn't look at her as he said it, and she knew he was lying.
"They might," Delon said. "Don't lie to her. Not about this." He took her in his arms and kissed the top of her head. She couldn't remember him ever doing such a thing before. His shirt smelled faintly of hay and sweat, as Papa's often did, and she pressed her cheek against it. "The healer's going to come, and maybe he can save them. But if he can't, we'll take care of you. We'll all take care of each other, all right?"
Jynna nodded, but she couldn't stop crying.
They sat down on the grass to wait, and after some time Jynna lay down, her tears still flowing, her stomach hurting, though because she was hungry or sick, she couldn't say. Eventually she woke up again. The boys were standing a short distance away, both of them doubled over. "Hasn't the healer come yet?" she called to them.
She saw Delon shake his head. "Not yet," he answered, his voice hoarse.
"And now you're both sick." She flung it at them, an accusation. Who's going to take care of me if you die too? she wanted to ask, but she couldn't even choke out the words. I'll be all alone! Better she should die than face the world without her parents and brothers.
Neither of them said anything, and in the next moment, matters grew far worse. The sky over the village suddenly flared bright yellow, and an arc of fire streaked across the night, as if Eilidh herself had declared war on the people of Tivston. Again the fire flew and a third time.
"What's happening?" Jynna cried. Somehow she was on her feet. She started toward her brothers, but stopped herself after only a step. Who would protect her? "Is it a war?" she asked. She knew how foolish the question sounded, but she couldn't help herself.
She heard a long moan from within the house-the sound she imagined a ghost might make-and an instant later a bolt of flame crashed through the roof of the house. Burning slats of wood spun into the air and fell to earth, smoking, charred at the edges. Again the moan. It was her mother's voice. She had fire magic, Jynna knew, though of course she never used it. Until tonight. Flame burst through the roof again and Jynna heard a scream. Only when the scream kept going, long after this second flame had died away, did she realize that she was the one screaming.
She forced herself to stop, and doing so she realized that others were screaming as well, in the village, in the houses around them. The sky was aglow, orange like a smith's forge. She could hear the rending of wood and the panicked howling of dogs, the neighing of horses and strange, otherworldly cries coming from the cattle and sheep. Flames and smoke began to rise from her house. The boys hurried toward the door, but both of them seemed unsteady on their feet. Before they could reach the top of the stairs, though, the front wall of the house exploded outward, throwing the boys onto their backs, knocking Jynna to the ground, and showering them all with embers and smoking scraps of wood.
When Jynna looked up again, there were her mother and father, leaning on each other, struggling to get free of the wreckage that had once been their home. They managed to descend the stairs to the ground; then both of them collapsed, their chests heaving with every breath. Mama lay on her back, and abruptly she thrust both hands skyward. Flame shot from her palms as if she were a goddess, or a demon from Bian's realm.
Delon gaped at her. "What's happening to you?"
"I can't control it!" Mama said. "I'm trying, but I can't stop!"
Papa rolled himself onto his knees and let out a piercing cry. And then the skin on both his forearms peeled open, like the rind of some pale, evil fruit, and blood began to run over his hands and soak into his clothes.
It took her a moment to understand what was happening to him. Healing magic. Papa had it, too. Except that he could no longer control it, just like Mama couldn't stop using her fire magic. Was this what would happen to Delon and Blayne? Would it happen to her as well?
She crawled backward, away from them all, tears coursing down her face. "No!" she cried. "No. No. No."
"Jynna!" her father gasped, staring at her, the blood on his arms gleaming in the moonlight. "Go! Get away from here! Get help!"
She shook her head so hard that the tears flew from her face. "Where? Where can I go?"
"Anywhere! Away from here!" He stared at the ground for a moment before meeting her gaze again.
Another pulse of fire flew from her mother's hands, but it seemed dimmer this time, weaker.
"Go north!" her father said. "You know which way is north?" She nodded.
"Go to the lake. Then follow the shore to Lowna. They're Fal'Borna there, not Y'Qatt. They can help you. They can help us."
"You mean with magic?" she asked, her eyes wide.
He hesitated, nodded once. "With magic. Now go! Quickly!"
She stared at him a moment longer. More screams rose from the village. More streaks of flame lit the sky. Not a war, she knew now. A pestilence. A plague. An Y'Qatt plague.
"Go, Jynna!" her father whispered, collapsing onto his side, his blood staining the grass.
She stood and ran.
Chapter 9
LOWNA, ON OWLLAKE
The moons were still up as she made her way northward, razor- sharp sickles in the sky, one as pale as death, the other as livid as blood. They were high overhead and gave Jynna no sense of which way was north, but she didn't need them for that. Tivston lay to the south, and though she could no longer see the homes and farms of her village, the occasional flare of fire magic streaking into the night sky told her just where it was. She only needed the moons for their light, and on the treeless plain north of the v
illage, they offered more than enough.
She'd stopped crying, at least for now, made braver than she'd thought possible by the task given to her by her father. Get help, he'd said. And then he'd told her to go to the Qirsi, the Fal'Borna. He was going to let them use their magic to save him, to save Mama and Delon and Blayne. If Papa was willing to go that far, she could hold back her tears for a few hours. She didn't know for certain that they were still alive, but as long as those bursts of fire still lit the sky behind her she had some cause for hope. That's what she told herself again and again. That's how she remained on her feet, how she kept herself moving when all she wanted to do was fall to the grass and cry for her family and her village.
Before long she saw the lake, its placid waters gleaming with moon- glow. Reaching its shores, she realized that she had drifted too far to the east, and she turned westward, following the edge of the water toward Lowna. Toward magic.
She half expected to fall ill herself and succumb to the pestilence before she reached the Fal'Borna. For as long as she could remember, the mere mention of the pestilence had been enough to fill her with terror. The threat of an outbreak hung over her village all the time, a great sword ready to descend, deadly and inescapable. Whenever anyone in Tivston came down with a fever, every person in the village would learn of it. Parents would keep their children at home, even the most dedicated peddlers would avoid the marketplace, the lanes of the village would remain deserted until word began to spread that the fever had passed. No doubt it was the same in every other village in the South- lands. The pestilence was no trifle; it could wipe out entire cities. The fact that all in her family had been afflicted should have marked her for death as well. But though she couldn't imagine ever being hungry again, she didn't feel sickened or weak with fever. And since she'd yet to come into her power, she felt no surge of magic such as those that had taken hold of her father and mother. Grief, anguish, terror: these threatened constantly to overwhelm her. But thus far she'd managed to stave off the disease.
She had no idea how many leagues lay between Tivston and Lowna. She'd heard it said among the peddlers in the marketplace that the distance could be covered in less than a day, but how much less? How far did her father expect her to go before her strength failed? Already she was weary; on any other night she would have been asleep by now. But she pushed herself on, and as she walked she tried to remember all that she had heard of the Fal'Borna.
