Sea of Strangers

by Erica Cameron

  “We really should have done that moons ago,” Tessen mumbles against my skin, pulling himself closer. “It wasn’t nearly that good with Giryn.”

  “How long ago was that?” I’ve barely seen Giryn since our training class became citizens over a year ago. If Tessen had a relationship with him, it must’ve been two or three years ago. And a well-kept secret. “Did either of you even know what you were doing?”

  “It’s been a few years. And he did know what he was doing, but…” Shivering, he closes his eyes. “Touch like this is…intense for me. With you it’s wonderfully overwhelming, but with most people it’s…”

  “Just overwhelming?” I was right. His senses are powerful enough to let him see for a mile and hear through thick walls of stone. Touch must be almost dangerously potent to him.

  “Uncomfortably so,” he admits, opening his eyes slowly. “For a while, I thought I might be ushimo, but even when no one else appealed to me, there was always you.”

  “That is very good to know.” I run my fingers gently up the side of his neck as I lightly scrape my teeth against the muscle connecting his neck and shoulder. “I am definitely looking forward to the day I get to see how far I can push you.”

  Tessen doesn’t quite whimper, but it’s close.

  Later, I promise myself. When I don’t have a war and a hunt and a rescue clogging my mind. So instead of stripping him again and using more teeth and nails and pressure this time around, I adjust the set of our clothes and lie down beside him, resting my head on his shoulder, my arm over his waist, and my leg across his.

  “Should we go back? There’s a sleep mat waiting for us back there.” One I’m regretting not bringing with us.

  “No. The quiet is…” He takes a long, slow breath. When he exhales, he sounds relieved. “Stay here with me?”

  “Of course.” I lift my chin and kiss under his jaw. “I told you, Tessen. All you have to do is ask.”

  He smiles drowsily, kisses the corner of my lips, and then his breathing quickly evens out as he settles into sleep.

  At least we had tonight.

  I try not to think about it like that, but it’s hard to avoid. There are too many unknowns in our future, and too many people in the world who’d be thrilled to either capture or kill us. For now, though, I force all of that aside, close my eyes, and pretend I’ll get to hold on to the comfort of this moment forever.

  Chapter

  Nine

  There’s no way to know how late it is when I lead Tessen away from the main cavern or how long we slept, but it feels like morning when we head back toward the others. I expect either questions or snark from especially Rai and Etaro but other than a few knowing smirks and a couple of leering winks, our reappearance passes without comment. I’m not sure if I should be worried by or grateful for their silence. From the way Tessen’s eyebrows rise, I think he’s asking himself the same question.

  “If this isn’t proof of the Kaisubeh, I don’t know what is,” Tessen murmurs to me.

  I laugh, and I’m still laughing as we approach the fire burning closest to our wagon. I stop when I get a whiff of something strange.

  Initially, it reminds me of herbs and spices, and I think someone might be making food. Only when I get close to the central fire do I realize why it seemed off. Under the stronger smells is a floral aroma, and something else, a scent that reminds me of the air at the highest points of a mountain, crisp, sharp, and pure.

  This might be what magic smells like.

  Set bestride the fire is a tall metal tripod, and an iron pot hangs from the center. Tsua is standing next to the fire, hands held out on either side of the pot, well away from the heat. Next to her, Sanii is standing at attention, fully focused on Tsua’s work.

  “What is most important at this point is funneling the desosa in slowly but consistently,” Tsua is explaining as I approach. “Like the heat of the fire, this is what will turn what would otherwise be an incredibly unappetizing meal into something that might save a life. Or take one, depending on the potion.”

  “I can’t control the desosa like that.” Sanii huffs a frustrated breath. “I’m still getting used to being able to do any magic at all.”

  “You can’t control it yet,” Tsua says. “But you will once we find the best way for you to handle desosa. I wouldn’t be surprised if you become just as powerful as Khya.”

  “Hopefully stronger.” I cross my arms and try to keep the smirk off my face. “Ey’ll need it to keep up with my brother.”

  Sanii snorts. “I need it to keep up with you.”

  “How long until this is done?” The storm seems to be easing to a survivable level, but we’ll have to stay. The andofume need time and quiet to work, so only Sanii is with them, watching and learning and trying to mimic what they’re doing.

  “Another day. At least.” Tsua takes a long breath, exhaling slowly. There’s a shift in the desosa surrounding her. It follows the line of her arm, pooling around her hands before the subtle motions of her fingers send the energy straight toward the brewing susuji. With the influx of power, the pot boils and thick steam rises. Purple-tinted steam.

  “Do you have to keep feeding power into it the whole time?” I ask.

  Tsua nods. “It’s one reason so few people bother with anything beyond the most basic of potions. The complex ones take more time and power than most have.” She rolls her shoulders and adjusts her stance. “And that was before Ryogo developed this ridiculous fear.”

  “They don’t avoid using magic entirely,” I remember. “They’ve got garakyus.”

  “They’ve been taught to view magic as a tool. Like a sword,” Tsua explains. “It’s a powerful tool in the hand of someone who knows how to use it, but it’s limited. It’s not easy to cut your dinner with a sword, is it?”

  “Probably not. I’ve never been unwise enough to try,” I say.

  Tsua nods. “Something like this susuji is beyond anyone who views magic the same way you think about your sword. I think it’s part of the reason Ryogan leaders worked so hard to push their mages away from the manipulation of desosa. From everything Osshi and Lo’a have told us, it seems like the mages who study here now only learn how to create things like garakyus and healing spells.”

  “They didn’t want anyone even attempting what my brother accomplished.” Chio comes to a stop on the opposite side of the fire from Tsua. “Their fear of him is still impossibly strong, even after all this time. More than I expected.”

  Then Tsua takes another long breath. “Are you ready, vanafitia?”

  At his assent, she slowly twitches the fingers of her right hand. Then, inch by inch, Chio’s hand replaces hers. They repeat the process on the left until Chio is the one feeding desosa into the susuji and Tsua can step back. I didn’t feel the desosa flare or fade at all. It’s impressive, both in their mastery of the desosa and how well they work with each other.

  “So, when we finish and we have a susuji…” I lean in enough to better smell the potion, wincing at the sting. “How will we know if it works?”

  Sanii lifts eir hand. “We test it.”

  “On who?” I gesture toward the andofume. “It’s not like they can become more immortal.”

  “We test it on me.”

  My breath catches, fear rising like a thick plume of smoke in my chest. “And if it kills you? What am I supposed to do then? What do you think Yorri will do to me if you’re not there when I free him?”

  “And what do you think he’ll do when I get old and he’s still sixteen?” Sanii only looks more determined, eir square jaw tensing and eir nostrils flaring. “Or when I die and leave—”

  Ey closes eir eyes, but I can finish the rest. They’re sumai, bonded so deeply their souls have entwined. The death of one sukhai severs the connection, and it’s rare for the surviving bondmate to…well, survive. The pain becomes unbearable, a constant agony that no amount of time can ease. If the pain itself doesn’t kill the sukhai, they take their own lives.

>   Broken hearts can heal; broken souls can’t.

  It would be different with Yorri. If Sanii dies, he’ll have to live with the pain and the loss and the memory of exactly how little time they had together. Even if we find a way to end immortal lives, I don’t think I have it in me to hand my brother the means to destroy himself. Or watch him endlessly suffer the loss of his sukhai. Sanii becoming immortal emself is the only endurable option. For any of us.

  But Tsua and Chio told us about Varan’s followers who willingly drank whatever susuji Varan had created. “It didn’t work on everyone who took it,” she’d said. “Two weren’t affected. Three died screaming.”

  “Say the susuji is actually capable of giving em immortality,” I begin cautiously. “What are the chances of this killing em instead?”

  Tsua and Chio share a look before she says, “Low, but not ignorable.”

  “I’ll take low.” Sanii forces a smile. “It’s better odds than we’ve had in moons.”

  That I can’t deny. “Fine. But you don’t do it before letting us know it’s ready.”

  “I don’t think any of us are going anywhere for at least another day or two, Khya.” Tsua’s gaze flits toward the cavern’s entrance. “It’d be hard to hide anything here.”

  Especially from Tessen. The reminder makes me feel a little better.

  “Let me know if you need any help with this.” I gesture toward the fire, but I’m already stepping back. When they don’t ask me to stay, I pick up the smaller of my two bags and move beyond the perimeter of the wagons.

  The firelight isn’t as strong here, making reading harder than it already is. I strain my eyes, going over the lines I’ve studied more than once and looking for anything new. A question to ask. An experiment to try. I still can’t make the cord around my wrist hold magic, but I know that’s my failing, not a fault in the cord. This is from the same stock we found on Imaku, the same they used on their prisoners. It must be capable of binding something or someone.

  Letting Lo’a use my wards to amplify the spell her people use to hide was hard, but possible. I was warding the caravan. It was a different kind of ward than I’d ever tried to create before, but it was still a ward. This binding spell is nothing like that. It’s Ryogan magic through and through.

  I keep working on it, pushing to see how far I can stretch what my training masters once told me were the limits of my ability. We can’t go anywhere, so I let myself get lost in the books and my trials, attempting to wind power through the red cord so many times I lose count. Time passes, but I only know how much because Tessen appears with food every so often.

  “You need to take a break, Khya,” he says the third time.

  I nod, absently running the cord through my fingers. “I will. When this wears me out.”

  “Too late. You’re blinking like you can’t focus.” Tessen stifles a sigh and places the plate near my side. “Just because you can grind yourself to dust doesn’t mean you should.”

  He leaves before I can reply, which is good; I think he might be right, but I’m not ready to admit defeat yet. Especially since I don’t know when I’ll next have this much uninterrupted time to work. Once the andofume finish the susuji and we test it, we’ll have to move on. I don’t know where yet, but it won’t matter. I’ll need to save my energy on those days for my wards.

  I keep working, eating when I’m hungry, but skipping a lot more sleep than is probably a good idea. Some time on the second day I feel someone watching. When I look up Tessen is there, leaning against the side of a wagon, his face nearly lost in its shadow. Though I wait—for either approval or argument—he gives me nothing but a small shake of his head and a resigned smile before he walks away. It’s enough to nudge me into a second nap, but even as I lay down, my head pillowed on my arm, I hope I don’t sleep long.

  However long I’m out, it’s only a few hours after I wake up that Tsua announces, “It’s ready.”

  I’m halfway to the bonfire before anyone else has even gotten to their feet, eyes locked on the steaming pot now sitting on the stone. At first I think it’s the light from the fire, but the color is wrong. Too purple. And the light isn’t reflecting off the surface of the steaming liquid, it’s coming from the liquid itself.

  “Are you sure I can’t talk you out of this?” I’m speaking to Sanii, but I don’t look away from the susuji. “I don’t like this.”

  “There’s no better plan.” In my peripheral vision, Sanii seems tense. Not afraid, though. Expectant. “We know the chances of this killing me are low.”

  “We don’t know anything.” I tear my eyes away to look at Sanii. “Are you sure you want to take this risk, Sanii?”

  “Yes.” Ey kneels next to the fire and then dips a ladle into the pot, pouring the liquid into a small cup. “If you’re going to argue with me about this, Khya, go somewhere else.”

  “I’m not going anywhere. Let’s get this over with.” I try not to imagine how angry or worried Yorri would be if he were here to watch Sanii raise this cup to eir lips and gulp down the glowing drink.

  Ey grimaces and wipes eir mouth with the back of eir hand. “That is awful.”

  “It wasn’t created with taste in mind.” Tsua purses her lips, her gaze darting from point to point on Sanii’s body. “How are you feeling?”

  “The same.” Sanii looks down at the empty cup. “So far.”

  I barely have time to build up the hope that, even if the susuji doesn’t work, it also won’t hurt em. Less than ten minutes pass before ey starts sweating. And shivering.

  Tsua carries em into our wagon and gently lays em on the lower bed. Zonna and I are right behind her, but when Zonna moves to touch Sanii’s ankle, desosa already gathering around his hand, Tsua shakes her head.

  “Leave em.” Tsua eases him away. “We have to let this work or fail. There’s nothing we can do but make em comfortable.”

  Until ey becomes immortal. Or dies. Or something else entirely happens.

  I kneel by the bed, holding eir hand and whispering, “Fight through this, Sanii. If you die, Yorri will never forgive me.”

  Breathlessly, ey laughs. “You’re j-joking. He’d forg-give you anything.”

  It’s the last coherent thing ey says for a long time.

  Within an hour, ey is writhing and screaming, the sound so loud and eir voice filled with so much agony I try to create a ward to stop sound. It doesn’t work.

  After an hour of screaming, I send Tessen and Tyrroh away, banishing them into a wagon that one of the hanaeuu we’la maninaio drives out of the cavern entirely. Neither of them can muffle their overpowered hearing enough. It’s probably painful being within a hundred yards of em, but hopefully the stone will block the worst of it. It’s the best I can do.

  We watch over em, waiting for the end. Whatever the end looks like. Even when the others force me to take a break, I don’t go far, not beyond the main cavern. Every other moment I’m with Sanii. Waiting and worrying.

  For two solid days.

  The fever Sanii built up breaks as we enter day three, sweat beading on eir soft brown skin as eir shivering eases. When they’re open, eir eyes look clearer and more focused than I’ve seen since Tsua carried em in here.

  “Did it work?” is the first thing ey asks.

  “We don’t know yet.” I brush my hand over eir forehead, pushing eir short hair off eir skin. “How do you feel?”

  “Miserable,” ey mutters, closing eir eyes. “But I don’t think I’m about to die anymore.”

  My hand tightens on the edge of the bed. “You’d better not.”

  Ey smiles, eyes fluttering open again. “Where’s your anto? We need a test.”

  “There’s been more than enough testing already.” But I reach for one of the daggers stored under the bed and ask Miari to get Zonna. Just in case Sanii can’t heal this wound on eir own. Only then do I remind em, “We don’t have to do this now.”

  “Sooner is better,” ey says, almost breathless. “If it failed,
we need a new plan.”

  Sanii’s right. I should have asked about that two days ago. Blood and rot. I should’ve asked what our next step would be before ey ever swallowed the susuji. Hopefully Tsua, Chio, and Osshi have been working on that, because we’ve already spent days in this cavern. Closing in on a week. If this fails, then it’s almost a full week wasted.

  At least it hadn’t been a waste and a loss. Ill as Sanii’s been, ey’s still with us.

  When Zonna kneels next to me and nods, I take Sanii’s offered arm, press it down to stop em from flinching, and cut a short line across eir upper forearm. Blood wells, leaving dark trails across eir skin. It’s deep enough to cause damage, not so deep Sanii’s in any real danger.

  Then we watch. If the susuji worked, eir body will close the wound, healing it until only the faintest of scars is left. And even that should fade soon. But nothing happens.

  We wait ten minutes before Sanii looks away from us, defeat in eir large eyes.

  Zonna heals the cut ey couldn’t. Disappointment wars with relief, both emotions strong enough to feel like tangible weights on my chest. When Miari and Wehli take my place at eir bedside, I leave the wagon and keep walking. I need space, so I go farther from our wagon than I have in days. Which is how I spot the smaller fire in the rear of the cavern.

  The tripod is set up over the blaze, a pot hanging from the center and purple-tinted steam rising from inside. Chio and Tsua stand on either side, hands extended. Power floods into the susuji, so much more than they used for the first.

  I’ve learned how to handle more desosa than I thought was possible, but this is something else entirely. The energy crackles and sparks around them, invisble but tangible to anyone with the skill to feel it. Given that most of the hanaeuu we’la maninaio seem to be keeping to the opposite side of the cavern, I don’t think I’m the only one unsettled by the work our elder andofume are doing. I also don’t dare interrupt it.

  Staying back about twenty feet, I sit and watch. They must’ve been working on this for hours. Maybe days. It’d explain why I’ve so rarely seen them since Sanii drank the first susuji. It would also explain why they’re breathing hard and why their hands are trembling and why Chio seems seconds away from losing his balance. I don’t want to think about what might happen if they’re interrupted—the backlash could decimate half the cavern—so I quietly find Natani and bring him back to their bonfire. Tessen notices, of course, and follows us.