Sea of Strangers

by Erica Cameron

  “I don’t know.” All the fear ey’s probably felt for days bleeds into those three words.

  “You can come with us.”

  Ahta pulls back at Sanii’s words. “Come with you where?”

  “Wherever we go,” Sanii softly says. “It won’t be safe, but you’d be welcome with us for as long as you want.”

  Sanii’s right, it won’t be safe with us, but living here with Dai-Usho was dangerous, too. Staying here alone would be worse. At least if ey’s with us, there will be people to protect em. And if ey decides not to stay, Lo’a might know a safe place for em.

  But Ahta looks unsure, so I shift to sit in front of em, holding eir eyes and hoping ey’ll listen. “You helped us when you didn’t need to. Let us help you.”

  “When you leave here and go back to wherever you came from, will you take me with you?” ey asks after a few seconds of silence.

  “If we live through the battles coming for us, which I can’t promise we will, then yes. We’ll take you to Shiara.” I try not to imagine how a child raised with trees and cold and snow will react to the desert, but I can’t deny the little ebet’s desire to be somewhere ey won’t be hated for existing. “But at the very least, we’ll get you safely away from here.”

  “I don’t—” Ey closes eir eyes, lips trembling and tears streaking down eir dirt-smeared cheeks. “This was the only place I had that was home.”

  My chest aches. My longing for burning sunlight and open space and endless blue skies and beautiful danger gets stronger than I’ve let it since I watched Shiara vanish on the horizon. I swallow, and hate the cold air freezing my throat. “I know what it’s like to lose home, and to lose someone you love. I know how hard it is to have to watch everything you know slip away because nothing you can do is enough to stop it. I know.”

  Ahta raises eir eyes to mine, tears flowing faster down eir face, and there’s so much exhaustion and pain in eir expression. I’ve never seen this much awareness in the eyes of someone so young. “Did you lose your mama?”

  “My brother.” The last time I saw my blood-parents, we were trying to kill each other. But ey’s listening, leaning in and absorbing every word I say, so I keep talking. “What’s important is you’re alive. Finding a new home is hard, but not impossible. Finding people you can learn to love again isn’t, either. Dai-Usho loved you, and she wouldn’t want you to join her in the afterlife. Not yet. You have decades ahead of you, and the world left to see.”

  Unblinking, Ahta stares at me, eir expression indescipherable. Then ey bursts into motion, crawling back into the animal’s den. Sanii calls em back. I press my lips thin, rolling them between my teeth to keep myself silent. We can’t make em come with us, and if ey’s survived this long on these mountains it’s not like we’d be leaving em to die, but the thought of leaving em alone is awful. Still, it’s eir life and eir choice and we shouldn’t—

  Ahta emerges from the burrow with several furs clutched to eir chest, a bulging bag strapped to eir back, and determination in eir eyes. Ey doesn’t struggle when Sanii takes the furs from em, simply adjusts the straps of eir bag and waits.

  With the child protected in the center of the line, we retrace the path to Lo’a. Life in the mountains trained Ahta well for the pace we keep; it’s rare any of us need to do more than help em over a particularly high boulder.

  For several hours, only Miari’s and Nairo’s murmured encouragement to Wehli—and his loud silence in return—overlap the breeze rustling the branches overhead. It’s Ahta who breaks the quiet when we stop for food and a rest in the middle of the afternoon.

  “It was soldiers. A whole squad of tyatsu. But they never come into the mountains. Not this deep.” Eyes down, ey rips a piece of dried fruit in half. And doesn’t eat either bit. “I wasn’t there when they found our house, don’t know what they wanted, but I got there when the tyatsu-lu said to— I heard the order to…” Ey closes eir eyes, small hands clenched tight. “He said to finish what her husband failed at years ago. They cut her throat open, threw her in the house, and set an asairu to burn it all down.”

  Sanii inches closer and offers Ahta eir hand. Ey latches on hard, and my stomach drops. I’d been right. What happened to Dai-Usho was because we led the soldiers straight to them. And I won’t blame the child if ey hates us when we tell em the truth. I should do it now, but the words stick in my throat like I tried to swallow kicta thorns.

  “I’m so sorry, Ahta,” Tsua says, her voice full of regret. “They had to have been here looking for us.”

  Sanii flinches and looks down at their joined hands; other than the stiffening of Ahta’s shoulders, it’s the only sign the child heard a word Tsua said.

  “I have no idea how they tracked us into the mountains,” Chio continues, his voice low and serious. “But there’s no reason for them to be here except for us.”

  “For me.” Osshi knocks a small rock down the slope, his expression stormy. “Far as we know, no one in Ryogo knows you’re here. If the tyatsu were here for anyone, it was me.”

  Ahta’s chin rises, eir gaze jumps from face to face, and the muscles along eir jaw twitch. Then eir eyes drop to Sanii’s hand. Frowning harder, ey pulls away, curling in on emself without a word. Eir silence holds for the rest of the day. And the night. And the next morning. However, ey doesn’t leave.

  As we hike down the mountain, I pray for Ahta’s sake that the Kaisubeh are real and they grant their followers the kind of afterlife the Miriseh always promised us in Itagami. At least then the child has a hope of seeing eir mother again one day.

  …

  Just before sunset on our second day of travel, I smell fire on the breeze again. This time it carries the scent of spices and meat. There, too, so quiet I almost miss it, the sound of conversation. Another half hour of hiking and we meet Shiu, the hanaeuu we’la maninaio standing sentry.

  Grinning, Shiu calls out a signal to the others. When he’s close enough to spot Ahta, there’s curiosity in his eyes, but Lo’a is still the only one who talks to us. The only reason I even know Shiu’s name is because I overheard the others use it. Now, when someone within the circle of wagons calls something in their language, all Shiu does is point. I assume that’s the direction Lo’a is in, so that’s where we go.

  She’s already jogging out to meet us. “We were getting worried you would not make it back at all, but you brought back more people than you started with.”

  There’s a smile curving her lips, but her eyes are nothing but suspicion. It’s slow to dissolve even after she learns why Ahta had been living out here in the first place.

  Honestly, the longer I spend with the hanaeuu we’la maninaio, the more surprised I am they agreed to help us at all. They trust no one, and keep even their most public secrets shrouded in distractingly bright colors and elaborate designs. It’s hard to believe even Osshi’s old actions were enough to convince them to let us stay. It’s also true, though, that the longer we’re with them, the happier I am to have their help. Maybe because of how clear they make it that their trust isn’t easily earned.

  “I had hoped you would not cross this aspect of Ryogo while you were here,” Lo’a admits sadly. “They believe in duality strongly here, and even those like Osshi who are more open to the wider world fall prey to some of the beliefs of this society.”

  Osshi looks down, pink rising in his cheeks and his expression conflicted.

  “Duality?” Tessen asks before I can. It’s a pair of something, two, but she seems to be referring to a deeper definition than that. “What do you mean?”

  “Duality. To them it means night and day. Man and woman. Right and wrong. It is in their laws and their culture and their interpretation of the alua’sa liona’ano shilua’a—the beings they call the Kaisubeh.” She lifts one shoulder, rippling the thick pink coat she’s wearing. “They like to pretend that there is nothing between night and day, but there are so many beautifully distinct moments. Twilight. Sunset. Dusk. Dawn. Daybreak. Sunrise. They have word
s for so many moments beyond night and day, yet they ignore them, pointing to the existence of only one sun and one moon as proof that their Kaisubeh constructed the world in dichotomous pairs. Even there, they are wrong. The sun is one of a million—billion—stars, and there are hundreds of thousands of moons.”

  I understand the words, but I’m not sure I know what she means.

  When none of us speak, Lo’a smiles sadly. “I wish they could meet your ebets and see how wrong their treatment of their own is, but they would reject that kind of change even faced with proof. They have spent too much time making the world fit their beliefs.”

  “A failing of far more people than could fit in Ryogo,” Tsua says.

  “True.” Lo’a takes a breath, quick but deep, and her smile brightens. “It is an incredible feat that you all came back from Nentoado alive and whole.”

  “Some of us,” Wehli mutters, left hand absently rubbing his shoulder. The stump—covered in new skin and scars and as healed as it ever will be—is enclosed in layers of cloth, but the imbalance in his shape is clear. Especially since Miari and Nairo have tied the empty sleeve down to keep it from flapping free and getting caught on something.

  Lo’a glances at the damaged limb, acknowledging it but thankfully not staring. “Injury like that is always hard to recover from, but you are alive, and you are young. You have time to relearn tasks you are used to doing with two hands. A friend in another family had to do the same when illness twisted one of her legs beyond use. With the help of a pair of walking sticks her brother crafted for her, she gets around almost as quickly as she ever did before. You will, too, once you learn how.”

  Wehli opens his mouth, then seems to change his mind. Lips pressed thin, he nods. On either side of him, his partners watch Lo’a with hope in their eyes. I can understand why.

  At home, only one’s partners—and sometimes not even them—would spend time helping a nyshin who’d been so severely injured get back to their old skill and speed. It’s too dangerous for the other soldiers, the Miriseh and our commanding officers claimed, to have someone at our backs who wasn’t at their peak. Here, we are all on the front lines, so I hope Lo’a is right and this is one more thing the bobasu lied to us about.

  But that will take time, and training, so for now we finish telling the story, both what happened in Kaisuama and what we found when we left the depths of Nentoado. And why.

  Frowning, Lo’a quietly offers Ahta her condolences. Though Ahta looks up and nods, ey still doesn’t speak. No one prods em to.

  “Especially given what you have told me, I have something for you I believe you will like.” Lo’a smiles, her eyes brightening. “While you were gone, I sent messengers to other families to see if they could answer the question Osota’s ancestors never could.”

  My heart skips a beat. I’d been thinking about suggesting we head back to Atokoredo and talk to Osota about the stones. Maybe we don’t have to. “You found something?”

  “I believe so.” She calls out to one of the children, and they jog toward her wagon. “The black rock was taken to Mushokeiji, a prison the Ryogans built for their mages a long time ago.”

  After the little girl returns and hands Lo’a a map, Lo’a flattens it on the rocky ground. The map, unless I’m reading it wrong, is focused on the Soramyku Province, where Atokoredo sits. Lo’a points to a point north of that city and east of where we began our journey into Nentoado. According to the map, there’s nothing there.

  “I can’t say I’m surprised to hear they built a mage prison, not with how their attitude toward magic has devolved since our time here.” Chio leans over the map, eyebrows pulled low. “But they put it here? Suakizu seems too pretty a place for a prison.”

  Lo’a shakes her head. “A blight struck the area centuries ago. It never recovered. Since it is both remote and useless for agriculture, it was the perfect place for Ryogo to hide those they wanted to forget existed.”

  “How well guarded is it?” Tsua asks.

  “Few know. Most people do not even know where Mushokeiji is let alone the details of the place,” Lo’a explains. “But if you need more of your black rock, I am nearly certain this is the only place in Ryogo to find it.”

  “I’m worried, though.” Tyrroh gestures northeast, toward Ahta’s mountain. “We don’t know how the soldiers followed us here. If we don’t figure that out, staying ahead of them will be nearly impossible.”

  “Obviously they use spells for more than just to send messages,” I say. “Could they be using one to follow us somehow?”

  Lo’a shakes her head. “They have one spell that might do that, but it should not work while you’re with us. We learned how to block it a long time ago.”

  “It might not be magic at all,” Tessen says. “It might be people. We’ve stayed off the main roads, but we haven’t been invisible. And we’ve been moving slow enough to follow.”

  “But could someone have been following us without you noticing?” I raise my eyebrows. “I’m not sure anyone in Ryogo is capable of that.”

  Tessen blinks and smiles ruefully. “While I really hate to shake your unquestioning faith, I’m not perfect. There’s a lot here that’s new. I can’t be as sure of my senses as I am on Shiara.”

  “The point is, we don’t know,” Tyrroh says, cutting off my response. “And I don’t like not knowing this answer.”

  I shift my weight, glancing at the trees hiding us from the world—and hiding the world from us. Clouds obscure the light from the stars and moon, so it feels as though our firelit camp is all there is. What magic or spy hides out there? And how the bellows do we find them?

  “We have to go east to reach Mushokeiji, correct?” Tsua leans over the map. “Can we get there without using any of the roads, even the lesser traveled ones?”

  “We cannot avoid them entirely—not if you want to travel with the wagons.” Lo’a points to several options, explaining how long each route would take. The mountain trails would take the longest time and require leaving the hanaeuu we’la maninaio behind, but they’d take us the farthest away from any cities or settlements.

  After an hour of debate—which was almost an argument at times—we decide on a path. Half of the trip will be on the less traveled roads, and we’ll ride in the wagons to give us a chance to rest and time to restock our supplies. The rest we’ll travel on foot to keep Lo’a’s family well out of danger. At least, any danger at Mushokeiji.

  “What do we do about whoever’s tracking us?” I ask.

  “Or whatever’s tracking us,” Rai adds.

  “As much as we can. Watch for spies. Pay attention to the desosa. Anything you think even might be out of the ordinary here, you report it to Tsua, Chio, Osshi, or Lo’a,” Tyrroh orders. “Full watch at all times, and you had better be tracking everything, down to the number of trees we pass each day. We’re alone in enemy territory here, so pay attention. I want every one of you with me when this is all over.”

  I do, too. We’ve all lost enough already.

  …

  We travel pitted paths through thick forests for four days, hunting when we can track animals worth chasing, gathering roots and plants when we can find ones worth eating, and keeping as many eyes as possible turned outward. Watching for what, we don’t know, but we’re watching.

  Wehli is the only one who doesn’t serve shifts. He offers once, on the first day, but Tyrroh shakes his head and sends Wehli back to rest. There isn’t a second offer.

  I barely see him for the next several days. He spends time reading, I think, and I spot him running drills twice, the long tudo blade he used to be so proficient at wielding now awkward in his non-dominant hand. Seeing it makes me wonder if he’s even tried using his power yet.

  Like all mages whose power focuses on physical enhancement, ryachos like Wehli draw in desosa without thinking and use it to boost their natural speed and agility. If they’re as powerful as Wehli is, they can run so quickly they’re no more than a blur. It takes practice to
employ that power, and balance is crucial for the skill. Balance Wehli doesn’t have anymore.

  I want to help him, offer comfort or advice, but I don’t know how. And I don’t think he’s ready to hear it. He’s even pushed Miari and Nairo away. Hopefully, Tyrroh will be able to reach him, or will help him regain his footing before we leave Lo’a. If he does, we’ll at least be able to offer him the choice to come or stay, but it hasn’t been that long since he was injured. Without his balance, he won’t be able to keep up with us; forget the scouting we usually use his ryacho speed for.

  And the time for a decision is looming, because Lo’a is calling a halt, and in the morning Tsua and Chio will lead us into the mountains, following trails that’ll get us to Mushokeiji without being spotted. By anyone except maybe the Ryogans’ Kaisubeh.

  Hopefully they’re not the ones reporting our position to the tyatsu. If so, we’re in a lot more trouble than I can protect us from.

  A voice shouting my name across the camp catches my attention; Shiu beckons me toward Lo’a’s wagon. Curious, I cross camp at a jog, nodding to Shiu before I pass him, jumping the three steps into the wagon. “Did you need something, Lo’a?”

  She smiles and gestures to the bench along one side of the table. After I sit, she extends her hand, holding a delicate silver chain with a silver pendant.

  “I would like you to have this. We do not often give these out, but there is a chance we will have to leave this place before you return if the tyatsu arrive. If that happens and you should need help, find another hanaeuu we’la maninaio family and show them this. It will get you whatever you need.”

  “Why?” I shouldn’t ask, but I need to know. “What have I done to earn this?”

  “You use the akiloshulo’e kua’ana manano in a way I have never seen before, and you taught me how to do the same. I have been trying to replicate what we did the night I borrowed your power, and if I can perfect my understanding of it, I will be better able to protect my family. It is stronger than any magic we have ever worked. You have also warned us about a danger coming for Ryogo and given us time to get messages to the families in the south. Most of them have begun evacuating already.” She offers the pendant again. “The worth of all the knowledge you have brought us is incalculable. We are in your debt.”