Sea of Strangers

by Erica Cameron

  “Hmm. You make it sound so easy. But I am warning you now, Osshi Shagakusa—if this harms any of my people, your family will be the ones who owe the debt. Do we have a deal?”

  Osshi tenses, and then seems to force himself to relax before he answers. “Yes, of course. It’s a deal.”

  Lo’a whistles, a piercing three-tone call. It causes a flurry of motion. Children and small animals are herded into the wagons. The massive horned beasts are led to poles that extend from one end of each wagon, then they’re tied to those poles.

  It all happens quickly, and everyone knows their role in the process. Their obvious training is comforting. Maybe they really will be able to get us to Chio’s village safely.

  “Come with me.” Lo’a walks off. Osshi follows first, but the rest of us aren’t far behind. She heads toward a yellow wagon with patterns painted in white and brown, approaching steps that lead up to the door. It opens outward before she reaches it. Two people jog down, each burdened with bags and boxes. The second one nods to her and says something in their language.

  She nods. “Thank you.”

  I watch the two leave, wondering if anyone but Lo’a speaks or understands Ryogan. No one else has spoken a word of it yet.

  Her gesture to the wagon catches my attention. “Fitting you all in here will be tight, but we cannot spare any more space.”

  As Osshi assures her we’ll be fine, Tyrroh says, “Wardstones first, Khya.”

  “Yes, Nyshin-ma.” I jump the three stairs and head inside.

  The wall opposite the door has two platforms, the bottom one about a foot wider than the top, and both are covered with mattresses and blankets. Below them are what might be drawers for storage—that’s what they were called on Kazu’s ship. To the left, immediately past the door, a flat piece of wood is strapped down. Beyond that is a cushioned bench that stretches all the way to the beds.

  I take a breath and wish more than ever for Yorri. He’d love a challenge like this, trying to fit fourteen adults plus their gear, weapons, and bags into this limited space. But we don’t have Yorri. All we have is me.

  “Tessen, pass up the bags.” I place wardstones along the wagon walls. “Keep out small weapons and essential items. Everything else has to be stored.”

  Thankfully, there’s more space than I spotted at first, like the empty area inside the bench seat. Hooks drop down from the ceiling, and there I hang the bags and weapons we might want quick access to. It makes stowing our gear quicker than I’d hoped it would be.

  Once we’re all inside, Lo’a warns, “Brace yourselves. We must travel fast to make the most of the remaining daylight.”

  She unhooks the steps from the doorway and secures them to the wall. The look she casts Osshi as she closes the door is somewhere between speculation and warning, but she says nothing.

  Tessen shakes his head, slipping through the crowded space toward the door. “There must be a way to keep this open. I’ve spent too much time the last moon in small, dark spaces.”

  And in a land this strange, it doesn’t feel safe to cut off our best line of sight. Or escape.

  “You’d better figure it out fast,” Rai tells Tessen from near the window. “Looks like we’ll be moving any second.”

  Thankfully, it’s a simple solution—there’s a latch on the wagon’s exterior wall. Once it’s secure, Tessen and I settle onto the floor in the open doorway. The wagon jerks and rolls forward a moment later.

  The motion is uncomfortably reminiscent of the ocean, so it’s nice to be able to see, hear, and smell Ryogo to remind me we’re back on solid land. I lean out, trying to study as much as I can of this place. To help, Osshi and the elder andofume give us names for plants and animals, none of which have counterparts on Shiara. They even explain the hanaeuu we’la maninaio’s animals—the large ukaiahana’lona are kept for work, like pulling their wagons, and the small ahoali’lona are companions, cared for and protected the same way human clan members are.

  It’s all strange, but the farther we travel into Ryogo, the more some things make sense, too. Like how they can build ships and wagons—and probably cities—with wood. On Shiara, only the kicta ever grows as tall as a person, and the shell of that spine-covered plant becomes unusably holey when it’s dried out and dying. I can’t imagine ever building a boat out of kicta panels or the kindling we collected from the desert’s low-growing brush.

  Trees, though. There is so much potential locked in trees. More than that, I think trees might be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

  They soar high above us—some must be over a hundred feet tall. The bases vary in width, some thin enough that I could wrap my arms around them and touch my fingers on the other side, and others so broad that it’d take three of us to completely encircle it. Leaves sprout from branches that spread in every direction, and the sound they make when the wind blows is wonderful. Like the waves crashing against a distant shore. The only thing I don’t like is the shade they cast; it drops the temperature too much, and the air is already cold enough.

  It’s incredible, but the sight is tainted by a single question: What will all this look like if Varan lands in Ryogo? He was willing to kill and deceive and manipulate and destroy everyone on Shiara for the chance to come back here. I can’t trick myself into believing he’ll be any kinder to the Ryogans than he was to us. It’ll be worse. If we fail—if I fail—Varan could sweep through this forest with my clan at his back and raze this land until nothing but ash and blood are left.

  After an hour, I have to move away from the door; the weight of what might happen is beginning to overwhelm the wonder of seeing Ryogo for myself.

  I’m glad for the distraction of the books on magic and history that Lo’a gave us. Some she had on hand, but the rest she sent several of her people to collect as we hurry northwest. When I find one that mentions the niadagu, I pull it aside and read with careful attention, trying to memorize it, a goal that feels impossible when even understanding the words is a struggle.

  By the time we stop for the night, my head hurts and I’m so cold my fingers are nearly numb. Before I let myself settle near the warmth of the blaze our two kasaiji are building, however, I walk the outer edge of the hanaeuu we’la maninaio camp and set my wardstones down at regular intervals. Just in case trouble finds us.

  Protections set, I sit between Tessen and Rai near the fire and take a deep breath. The scent of the smoke is an aching reminder of home. For most of the year, Itagami smells like smoke, brine, sulphur, sweet kicta, and bitter scrub. I can’t identify what the air is carrying here apart from woodsmoke.

  “I can’t be the only one who thinks the world smells strange,” Sanii says. “Nyshin-ma? Tessen? Either of you know what it is?”

  Tyrroh shakes his head, and Tessen says, “I don’t know what to call anything here. It’s all strange.”

  “I seriously don’t envy your senses right now, basaku,” Rai says.

  “Is this what cold smells like?” Miari rubs the tip of her nose. “I don’t like the scent any better than I like the temperature.”

  “Don’t worry.” Wehli smirks and leans in to press a kiss to her tawny skin. “Nairo and I will keep you warm.”

  “The smell we can’t do anything about,” Nairo adds wryly, adding a jet of flames to make it burn hotter.

  “It’s not the cold.” Osshi gestures widely. “It’s the trees.”

  “That’s unfortunate.” Natani scoots closer to the fire. “I was just starting to like trees.”

  Tessen taps my knee, nodding toward the main camp when I look at him. “You might want to warn Lo’a not to touch those wardstones.”

  Following his gaze, I see Lo’a walking the perimeter of the camp with one of the older hanaeuu we’la maninaio, their attention fixed on the wardstones. The others watch Lo’a’s progress but don’t approach. As I turn back to Tessen, I can’t help wondering if the other hanaeuu we’la maninaio are keeping a distance out of respect for the woman who seems to be their le
ader, or out of wariness of us.

  “Worried she’ll dump us here and flee if she learns how dangerous those stones are the same way you did?” I ask. The shock of touching my active wardstones had left his short hair standing straight up.

  “Any sane person would,” he answers wryly.

  “Hmm.” I stand up. “What does that say about you?”

  He tilts his head back far to look up at me. “That you broke my mind a long time ago.”

  Grinning, I tap his nose and then jog away, reaching Lo’a just before she reaches toward a wardstone. “I don’t recommend that.”

  “I did not plan on touching it.” And she doesn’t. Neither does the older woman standing beside her, watching silently. Instead, Lo’a carefully moves her hand over and around the stone, feeling the air, or maybe testing the stone the way she tested us earlier. “This is not like anything I have seen before. Would you tell me how it works?”

  “If you’d be willing to tell me how you get the desosa to run like a well-trained soldier through those symbols you use.”

  Her hand freezes, and her eyes snap to meet mine. The older woman cocks her head, her long, gray-streaked hair falling over her shoulder; there’s vigilance in her expression that makes me almost certain she understands Ryogan even if she can’t, or chooses not to, speak it.

  Lo’a glances at the woman, who doesn’t seem to offer her any direction. Then Lo’a shakes her head. “I do not know desosa. What is that?”

  Thoughtless of me; of course she doesn’t. “The closest word I know in Ryogan is sentukei—magic. But desosa is more than that.” I circle my hand in the air, trying to encompass everything. “It’s the energy of the world. The power in the air and the land and the water.”

  “You know the akiloshulo’e kua’ana manano?” She stands, eyes intensely focused on me. Surprise shows on the elder’s face, too. “You can feel it?”

  “You can’t?” That doesn’t make sense. How can they possibly be channeling it this well if they can’t feel it?

  “No, of course we can.” She waves her hand dismissively. “But in all the lands we have traveled, we have met very few who can. Many deny it exists, but those people do not see our magic at all. Almost no one in Ryogo can sense it.”

  By now, I feel the attention of the rest of my group. I’m sure a few of them have moved closer to listen, just like several of Lo’a’s people are moving in behind her. No one speaks, and Lo’a seems to pay them no attention, so I ignore them, too.

  I take a breath and gesture toward my circle of wardstones. “I’d be willing to teach you about my magic if you explained yours.”

  Although interest is clear in her expression, she doesn’t say anything for almost a minute. The elder woman murmurs something in their language, the words so long and flowing I have a hard time determining where one ends and the next starts. When Lo’a speaks again, it’s not what I expected to hear. “Do you know how many colors exist?”

  “Colors?” I am utterly confused. “Of course not. How could I?”

  “Exactly.” She gestures around the camp to, I presume, all the colors her people use. “Just here, there are so many it would take a long time to count them. When you combine some colors, you can create something beautiful, like a shade of blue that captures the essence of the sky. Other times the result is less lovely, a murky darkness that reminds people of death.”

  “What does that have to do with magic?” I ask.

  “There are just as many ways to use the akiloshulo’e kua’ana manano—what you call desosa—as there are colors in the world,” Lo’a explains. “The wrong combinations can be disastrous. Catastrophic, in certain circumstances. Even if it were allowed, teaching you to see magic the way my people do might not work the way either of us intend.”

  “Or it could give us a useful new tool, something to help us protect our homes.” Most of the magical limits I was taught have been proven wrong in the last several moons. It’s not in me to believe the only possible outcome is bad.

  My words seem to make her think…until her gaze flicks up to focus on something over my shoulder.

  “Khya.” Tessen’s words—spoken in Itagamin—are filled with the kind of worry I’ve learned to pay attention to. “I think I hear something. Can’t be sure here, though. Too much noise for me to filter out.”

  “Go tell Tyrroh, and be careful.” We’re not like Tsua and Zonna. He can be hurt. “Make sure you take someone with you if you need to go far.”

  He turns then, a teasing light in his eyes. “Is that an order, Nyshin-pa?”

  “I’m not your nyshin-pa.” Our squad had two seconds serving directly under Nyshin-ma Tyrroh. Neither of them is here. Ryzo is still on Shiara, left behind, and Daitsa…

  “You are, Khya, whether you’ve officially accepted the position or not.” Smiling, he touches my shoulder gently and leaves, stopping to whisper to Tyrroh. Both continue south. In a few seconds, they’re lost in the trees.

  Lo’a’s sharp gaze tracks their departure, and then she beckons to one of her clansmen. The conversation is short but heated; as far as I can tell when the man walks away, she won. Then she demands to know what’s happening.

  “Tessen thinks someone might be approaching from the south. He and Tyrroh have gone to check, that’s all.”

  “It seems like more than that.” Her gaze locks on Osshi. “What have you brought down on us, Osshi Shagakusa? If you are no traitor, why is there so much fear in your eyes to think someone is coming?”

  “I’m not a traitor.”

  “To yourself, maybe. But in the Ryogans’ eyes?” she challenges.

  “I’ll explain it all, Lo’a, tell you whatever you want to know, but if the tyatsu really are coming, we need your help.” He walks closer, hands outstretched. “If they find me, I think they’ll kill me.”

  She stiffens. Those standing behind her start whispering amongst themselves, hurried gestures sending one of them running toward the main camp. My pulse speeds up to see the fear and anger on so many of their faces. We’ve barely started this trek and it already feels like we’re about to lose the only possible allies we have here.

  The conversation stops when Lo’a raises her hand. “The risk to us is enormous. We are tolerated in Ryogo because of the trade we bring them, but the leaders have been trying to banish us for centuries. If they catch us smuggling a traitor, that faction might finally win their fight against us.”

  “Lo’a, I know it’s a lot to ask. Too much.” Osshi is nearly pleading with her, and he never even looks at the elders. He’s treating Lo’a as if she’s the only one who makes decisions for this family, as if he’s never noticed how often—like now—she looks to one of the elders for opinions, approval, or advice. “All I ask right now is for you to listen to what we’ve learned and then decide for yourself if carrying us where we need to go is worth the risk.”

  She opens her mouth. I hold my breath—

  And then Tessen’s voice cracks through the forest. “Enemy incoming!”

  Chapter

  Four

  Tessen’s low warning has immediate effect. Lo’a whistles sharp and loud. Her clan bursts into motion, their specific, focused paths proving what I’d noticed earlier about practice and training. I run with the squad and the andofume to the outer edge of the wagon circle to meet Tessen and Tyrroh.

  “How long do we have?” I ask.

  “They’re about a mile off, southeast.” Tessen’s gaze is focused in that direction. “They’re following the road we used, and there isn’t much of a chance they’ll miss us if they keep heading this way. And…” He shakes his head, furrows lining his forehead. “It sounds like they know where Kazu landed the ship—at least the general area. Someone was saying that yes, they should stay on this trail because it’s the only one fresh enough to be ours unless we’re traveling through the treetops.”

  “Our magic should hide us from prying eyes, especially Ryogan military,” Lo’a says. “I cannot guarantee it, though. Som
e Ryogans are unexpectedly perceptive, and they take any reason they can find to search our wagons for illegal items, so we should assume they will insist on doing that tonight, too.”

  “I can ward us.” After protecting Kazu’s ship against the relentless ocean, shielding the circle of wagons shouldn’t be a struggle. And I will shield them. They’re only in danger because they’re helping us. “They’ll still be able to see us, but they won’t be able to touch us.”

  “They also can’t touch us if we make them disappear.” Rai’s hands spark, fire building in her palms and climbing up her wrists. Several of the hanaeuu we’la maninaio step back, shock in their eyes.

  “Wood burns.” Etaro slaps Rai’s arms down, unconcerned about the flames. “Look what we’re surrounded by.”

  “I can control my fires!” Rai sends up a tornado of sparks.

  “No leaving a body trail, remember? Killing them will be worse than giving them stories to tell.” Tyrroh’s deep voice cuts through the conversation.

  “I wish your wards were an actual wall,” Etaro says to me, eir sharp features pinched. “Sometimes it feels better to hide behind something solid.”

  “I’d settle for becoming invisible,” I murmur back, my eyes on a child watching the chaos of their camp through their wagon’s window, anxious fear clear on their face. I hate that we’ve brought our problems to them.

  Lo’a shakes her head. “We are not invisible. And intention is powerful. The harder someone looks for us, the better chance they have of finding us.”

  “Can we run?” I ask.

  “Even well rested, our beasts are not quick, and we pushed them hard today.” Lo’a’s full lips pull tight, and I can’t tell if there’s more anger or fear in her expression.

  “And if we run now, it’ll be a long time before we can stop.” Tyrroh nods toward the southeast. “Tessen, Khya—I want both of you watching the road for their approach. Everyone else spread out in intervals from there.”

  Tessen moves toward the trees. I begin to follow, but there’s a thought circling the back of my mind like a mykyn bird.