Sea of Strangers

by Erica Cameron

  “I know your magic is related to the symbols—the desosa seems to move through them.” I look up at the silver symbol hanging over us—an intricate combination of half circles and straight lines—and then lower my gaze to the marks covering her skin. “All of them, not just the ones you’re actively using.”

  “You really are incredibly perceptive.” Her smile turns secretive as she settles more comfortably on the bed. “Yes, the symbols are critical to how we work with the akiloshulo’e kua’ana manano—the energy you call desosa—but what is more important is how one guides the akiloshulo’e kua’ana manano through themselves and how well it holds.” She runs her thumb over the border of her skirt. “It is like turning individual threads into a patterned cloth.”

  It sounds similar to what I do with crystals to create wardstones, a way to lock magic into a particular spot to perform a specific task. I thought it could only be done with the crystals mined on Shiara, but… “What do you use? To paint these on your wagons?”

  “Our paint is made from berries and flowers. Roots of plants, sometimes. Bugs of certain types. Clay and stones ground to dust. Anything natural can work, but the materials must fit with the magic you are working.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Does it seem like a good idea to place fire magic in a piece of wood?” she asks. “In theory, any natural material can work for any magic, but the power will not be the same as when the right mage uses the right materials for the right magic. Do you understand?”

  “I think so.” Wood wouldn’t hold fire for long. Rock wouldn’t do well holding water. Both, though, could potentially become a ward-anchor. “Do Ryogans see magic the same way? Osshi doesn’t talk about it.”

  I don’t mention what Tsua and Chio have already taught us; their information is more than a little old.

  “Chances are he does not know much. Usually, the only Ryogans who know anything about magic are the few allowed to use it.” She shakes her head. “And their views barely resemble ours. They use spoken spells, and they compare the relationship between magic and spells to a river and its banks. Created properly, the borders of a river contain water without constraining it, but if those banks are not strong enough, they can crumble and cause a flood.”

  “If they live in fear of a flood, how can they ever learn what they’re capable of?”

  “You do not understand the limits placed on mages in Ryogo. Their work is closely watched. The smallest infraction will land them in prison.”

  “What is prison?” That’s not a word Osshi taught us.

  “A cage for those who break laws. A way to keep dangerous people away from everyone else.” The way she describes it makes me think of Imaku, a bleak, lonely, dark place. “I cannot tell you more than that because I do not know anything about the mage’s prison except that it exists. I also cannot tell you more about our magic—anything else is forbidden.”

  My stomach sinks. There’s so much more I need to know.

  “But I also cannot stop you from watching.” When I blink, she smiles. “You have already proven to be resourceful and intelligent. There is a lot you could learn by observation.”

  “And you’ll allow that?” Because if I can learn a lot, then Tessen could learn everything.

  “Yes. Until it becomes an issue.” Then she smirks. “But I will be watching you as well.”

  “Fair.” Especially since it’s not something I’m in a position to argue. “Do your people speak Ryogan as well as they understand it? Are we allowed to talk to them?”

  “Truly perceptive.” A moment of hesitation. A quick glance. A sigh before she says, “I am the voice of my family; bring any questions you have to me.”

  Although that’s not really an answer to either of my questions, it’s clearly as much as I’m going to get. I agree, and she relaxes.

  “There is one other thing I wanted to talk to you about.” Although I nod, it takes Lo’a a few seconds before she says, “You are being hunted.”

  “We are,” I respond. “Well, Osshi is. So far, unless one of Kazu’s men reported us, we don’t think the Ryogans know we’re here.”

  “Yet you do not seem afraid of the hunters.”

  “I’m vigilant, but I—” I close my mouth, thinking. “Maybe it’s just hard to be scared of hunters who fear magic so much. I am afraid, just not of the Ryogans. We can beat a squad of them if we need to. Outrun them. What I’m afraid of is what’ll happen—to us and to everyone else—if Varan’s army gets here before we have a way to stop him. He’s been planning this for centuries, Lo’a. He will decimate anything and anyone that tries to stop him now.”

  I just have to hope—have to keep believing—that he hasn’t already decimated Yorri and everyone else I left behind on Shiara.

  She nods, her expression somber. “True, but do not discount the threat Ryogans pose. Their wariness is not weakness. This land is rich with resources more than one foreign power would love to control, yet no one has been able to take it from them.”

  I nod. “We’ll keep it in mind, but we’re not trying to take anything. This place is too cold for me. I don’t know how you can wear so little. I’m sitting here wishing I had more layers.”

  “Be prepared then,” she says as she gets up. “Osshi is taking you even farther north of here, and as the land rises, the temperature drops.”

  “Wonderful,” I mutter as I follow her back outside. It isn’t enough that we’re trying to reach a village Chio hasn’t seen in centuries and find a cache of information that may not even exist anymore while being hunted by Ryogan soldiers, but we have to do it in the cold? “Something to look forward to.”

  Chapter

  Five

  Sanii and I back away from the mouth of the black tunnel, Yorri held between us, unconscious and dragging awkwardly; Sanii is so much shorter.

  There’s fear in Tessen’s eyes when he turns away from that escape. “Run!”

  But the tunnel is safer. It doesn’t end in water. I try to tell Tessen; only meaningless noise escapes.

  “Run, Khya! They’ll break this rotten rock into a pile of rubble.” Sanii pulls on Yorri, which pulls on me. I keep my eyes on the tunnel, but my mind is mired in quicksand. I can’t remember what’s in that black tunnel that they’re so afraid of.

  We pass row after row of black platforms; I refuse to look at a single one. I know the people we’re leaving here will plague my mind. If they have faces, it’ll be worse.

  But…I already tried that, didn’t I? It didn’t work. Couldn’t have; even with my eyes closed I can see every face.

  “Wards, Khya!” Fear sharpens Sanii’s expression. “What are you doing? We need air or we’re going to drown out there.”

  “I don’t know how!” What? That’s not what I wanted to say. This moment feels horribly, painfully familiar, but also different. I didn’t mean to say that.

  “Rot take you, Khya! Remember!” I’ve never seen em so angry. “I am not leaving Yorri here for whatever this is.”

  “Wait!” My breathing comes hard and too quick. “Stop and let me—”

  “Shut up and move!” Tessen shoves us forward. I stumble; only my desperate grip on Yorri keeps me on my feet. “There’s no time. Remember or we’re dead, Khya.”

  Think, think, think. I created the wardstones we’re wearing, right? I did, but I don’t know how. And these are wrong, their glow too dull and the magic the wrong color. It should be red. It feels gray. Wrong. But we’re nearing the end of the passage. The crash of waves against rock is getting louder. Louder. Deafeningly loud.

  “Now, Khya!” Tessen barks, his voice harsh and furious.

  I mentally reach for the wardstones; the magic spillls through the holes in my concentration like sand.

  Ten feet away from the edge of the black island.

  Five feet. Blood and rot. They’re expecting my wards to give us air underwater?

  “Khya!” Sanii hisses. “Jump!”

  One foot. Sanii leaps, and I leap
with em.

  Flying above the waves, we’re safe from imprisoning rock and devouring water. But only for a moment. Pain shoots up my arm. Water surrounds me, and cold, but I breathe air, not water. I try to reach for Yorri; my left arm won’t answer and my right hand closes on nothing. The water is getting through my ward, and Yorri— Where is Yorri?

  My head breaks into the air. I see what my failures have done.

  A thick red rope around his neck. Matching bonds around his wrists and ankles. His body is arched out over the water. I could save him. All I need is a moment of pure focus. I tried something before; maybe this time it will work.

  Lungs burning, I battle the current toward the island. A hand clamps around my left ankle. My body jerks. My concentration breaks. Water pours through my wards. Yorri vanishes, and I get sucked down into the angry, insatiable ocean. The grip tightens and drags me deeper, but I keep reaching for my brother. Reaching for—

  “Let her go!”

  The hand on my ankle tightens, holding on no matter how hard I scramble to get away. I should be able to—

  “She almost kicked me in the head!”

  I reach for my wards, pulling in as much power as I can and—

  “Let go, Natani!”

  I’m free. I gasp for breath, trying to sit up. Get away. New hands grip my shoulders. No! I pull in power again, hoping my wards won’t fail me this time. If I shove them out from my body hard enough and fast enough—

  “It’s me, Khya. Breathe. Breathe.”

  I’ll break their hold. I’ll break their arms.

  Suddenly, I’m leaning against someone’s chest. “You’re okay.” A hand rubs circles on my back. Another gently strokes my short hair. Tessen. “You’re safe, I promise. You’re safe here.”

  I exhale heavily; the breath shudders through my body and my muscles tremble, but Tessen’s warmth takes the edge off my chilled skin. The soft vibration of the desosa around his body, a pattern I know so well now, is even more soothing than the gentle brush of his fingers down the line of my jaw or the firm, protective hold of his other arm. My heart is beating too fast, every thump too loud, but I relax more with each passing second.

  I trust Tessen completely. I promised I would, even in moments like this, but blood and rot, I hate needing him so much. He’s not like our andofume. Or like the bobasu. Or like Yorri. Tessen can be killed, and he’s following me into a mission where failure is so much more likely than success. If I lose him now, after I’ve let him in this much—

  No. Stop. Hold my breath. Count the seconds. Concentrate on the flow of the desosa.

  Useless. None of my usual tricks are working. I need something else to think about.

  “Where are we?” I ask.

  “Close to Uraita,” Tessen says. “But it’ll be an hour or two until we leave the caravan.”

  “We’re passing a city. Tirodo, I think.” Rai is leaning through the window, almost half her body out of the wagon. “Haven’t been this close to one yet. It’s so…unprotected. Do they really have so few enemies here?”

  Curious, I ease off the bed. I pull Rai back just enough to poke my own head out, too. For a second, my head spins, because the city isn’t level with us, it’s at the bottom of a fifty-foot drop. I close my eyes and take a breath, pushing aside the vertigo and the lingering shakiness from my nightmare. When I open them again, my vision and my head are more stable.

  Like Po’umi, Tirodo is filled with closely packed buildings. The colors are different, though; the sharply sloped roofs are mostly black, the buildings’ walls are mostly white, and the clothing I see people wearing is in shades of black and brown. There’s one spot of color, and it seems out of place.

  “What is that?” I point to the red tower rising above any other building.

  “The Kaisubeh tower,” Tsua says after peeking out. “Every city has one as a tribute.”

  “What are the Kaisubeh again?” Etaro asks.

  “I don’t—oh. Right,” Tyrroh says. “Kaisubeh. The Ryogans’ invisible, all-powerful gods and goddesses.”

  “Rot-ridden fools,” Rai mutters.

  I agree, but when Osshi stiffens in his seat by the door, I wish she hadn’t said it aloud. He’s still not over my display of power with Lo’a, and he takes serious offense when we doubt his pantheon. Even though no one has seen or heard proof of the Kaisubeh’s existence in centuries.

  According to Osshi’s stories, the last time the Kaisubeh bothered themselves with the Ryogans was before the bobasu’s exile. Over five hundred years ago. Even that incident—a massive black rock hurtling down from the sky, a rock with properties that proved to be Varan’s undoing—was arguable. The Ryogans couldn’t prove the rock was sent by the Kaisubeh any more than they could prove it wasn’t. Yet they still build towers in their honor.

  I step back from the window, letting Etaro and Sanii take my place. I move to sit at the table with Tyrroh and the andofume and look at the maps they’ve been studying since yesterday. “What have you found?”

  “Almost nothing familiar.” Chio runs his middle finger over the arc of his thin eyebrow. “I knew things would change, they did even while we lived here, yet it’s still surprising to think Uraita has become so unrecognizable.”

  My stomach tightens. “What about Varan’s notes? Will you be able to find them?”

  “No” isn’t an acceptable answer. The only trail we can follow right now begins with that information. We can’t undo something we don’t understand, and no way can we defeat Varan if we don’t know how to kill him.

  “If his hiding places haven’t been found, and if the seal hasn’t been broken, and if everything is still inside…” Chio huffs and shakes his head.

  “Realistically, the chances of this working are low,” Tsua finishes.

  “Then why are we doing this?” Sanii drops onto the bench next to me.

  “Because if Varan’s notes are there, they could save us more time than I want to think about.” I pull the map closer, trying to fix it in my mind. “I’d rather check this first. At least it gives us a place to start and better odds of finding something.”

  “Bad odds seem to be all we get these days.” Tessen sighs. “But at least we’re still alive to face them.”

  Unlike some of the people we left behind. Or lost on our way here.

  Ignoring the way my chest aches, I point to the lines on the map north of Uraita and ask what they mean. Ryogo’s system of marks and symbols isn’t anything like the one we used in Itagami, and we’ve been studying it in between Osshi and the andofume’s lessons on reading, but these in particular are new.

  Osshi purses his lips, but then he moves closer and explains about the caves hidden underground and how they’re displayed on paper. His words are stiff at first, but he begins to relax the longer he talks. Almost like he forgets he’s afraid of us. I’m glad, because his help means that by the time we’re a few miles from the border of Uraita, I nearly have this particular section of Ryogo memorized.

  Before the caravan stops mid morning, we dress in the Ryogan clothes Lo’a gave us, ones in the same dark colors we saw people in Tirodo wearing. There are multiple layers of thick fabric kept in place with knots that the hanaeuu we’la maninaio taught us how and where to tie. The clothes are warmer, but it’s hard to adjust to their restrictions. Especially the boots. When I first put them on a few days ago, it was like relearning how to walk. The warmth almost isn’t worth the trouble. Almost.

  Lo’a is waiting with a warning when we leave the wagon with our bags and gear once more strapped to our backs. “You have one full day before we leave. We cannot wait here any longer than that.”

  “I’m grateful you’re willing to wait at all.” I’ve somehow become the squad’s spokesperson, a counterpoint to Lo’a’s position in her family. But despite the time I’ve spent talking to her, I wasn’t sure she’d be willing to help us after Uraita. Especially not when I know now how secretive the hanaeuu we’la maninaio really are and how much helping
us could hurt her family.

  “Better make the most of your time, then.” She nods in the direction of Uraita. “One day. Not an hour more.”

  Agreeing and saying goodbye, we move through the woods on our own, Tessen and Chio leading. Osshi, we hide in the middle of the group. It’s his voyage to hunt down the truth behind the bobasu legend that got him in trouble in Ryogo, so we’re all hoping the tyatsu will assume he’d never consider coming here, a place deeply connected to the same legend. We’re hoping, but we can’t be sure, so we need to be careful. There’s a lot of ground to cover before we reach the mountains, and we’ll be coming close to Uraita. A moment’s inattention is all it’ll take for us to get spotted, but it’s the best path and the only plan we’ve got.

  If what Chio believes is hidden in the Mysora Mountains is still there, we can’t risk being found. If it’s not here…we still can’t risk it.

  We don’t know the quirks of this landscape well enough to move as quietly as we could on Shiara, so we give up some speed to stay silent. Twice, though, Tessen signals a halt. Each time, we wait in the shadows as several people trudge past, heavy loads on their backs. It slows us down even more, but we make it to the base of the mountains without trouble.

  The trees end about a hundred feet up the slope, which means we have to leave their protection to move any higher. Tessen scans the area and points to three separate paths. “Those paths seem the most used.”

  Chio shakes his head. “Varan didn’t use those. It’s this way.”

  We stay in the shadows to follow Chio west. He’s muttering to himself and the fingers of his left hand are moving, almost like he’s drawing on the air. Finally, a little more than two miles east of the village, Chio touches a stone.

  “‘Child of the Kaisubeh.’” Chio traces words etched into the stone; they’re small and almost hidden. “Varan called us that when we were young, and he marked the path with this phrase. It won’t always be easy to see.”

  “Maybe for you.” I tap Tessen on the shoulder, smiling. “Get to work, basaku.”