Dawn was already approaching and we had only just emerged from Ohaddin. Iona was hanging on my back, but this did not cause me difficulty. What did slow us down was Kabira, whose fall had left her with a hurt foot and a limp, despite Garai’s support.
“We have to take a different route,” I said when we had all stopped for a short moment to rest.
Orseola was staring into the darkness. “There is a path. Southward. A goat trail. Not often used.”
“How do you know?” I was suspicious. As far as I knew, Orseola had not moved around beyond the walls of Ohaddin any more than the rest of us, apart from Estegi and perhaps Kabira in her youth.
“I have seen it in their dreams,” said Orseola. “This whole landscape is etched on my mind like a map.” She sounded bitter. “I never asked for it. I do not want to carry it with me wherever I go. Just give me trees and I would be happy.”
We soon found the path and began to follow it. Our progress became more laborious. We tripped over roots and stones. Orseola went first and warned us of all hindrances to come. She stopped by a spring in a grove of bao trees. Everybody drank, and so did I. Fresh water was on my mind. We had several waterskins with us to fill from the river before we reached the sea, but would they be enough for the voyage? There were three more in our party than we had originally planned for. The food would certainly run out, but one can survive a long time without food. Water is another matter.
We were stumbling in the darkness, which very soon began to fade into light. After that our steps were more visible, but then so were we—to guards and soldiers and spies. Or the captain himself.
But he had lost the spring water, and without it he could not heal himself as easily as before. Though Iona had not succeeded in slaying him, he was severely wounded.
Wounded animals fight back the hardest.
As the sun’s first rays were creeping over the horizon behind us we heard the sound of hoofbeats along the road to the north. We crouched behind some bushes and waited. Morning birds were singing. From the west came the sound of goats bleating. When nothing broke the peace, we eventually emerged and continued walking. Orseola came behind me and I went back in the lead. Iona was breathing heavily on my neck. This landscape was foreign to me, with unfamiliar valleys and heights. I longed for the dense brushwood of my riverbanks instead of these mostly open, newly sown fields. At times the path ran through a grove of bao or etse trees, but trees did not mean safety. Soldiers and spies could be hiding in there just as easily as we could.
We saw some people, but only labourers sowing the land. At one point two young boys came running towards us, chasing their herd of goats and frolicking kids. They stopped and gawked at us. We truly were a bizarre troop of women, some with more expensive clothes and jewellery than they had ever seen in their lives, others modestly dressed. Garai was barefoot. Furthermore, I was carrying a semi-conscious woman on my back.
One boy stared, unafraid, straight at Kabira, who was wearing the finest clothing.
“What’s her ladyship doing here?” he asked, picking his nose. He had dirty bare feet and was wearing a shirt and trousers of undyed linen.
Kabira stared at him.
“Did your mother teach you nothing? How dare you speak before you are spoken to—to an unknown woman, superior to you in age and rank?”
The boy just stood there with his mouth open.
“Answer me, boy!”
“Dunno, milady,” he mumbled.
“Shockingly impudent behaviour. It is not for you, goatherd, to ask me anything. It is not for you, or you,” she turned to the second boy, “to even recall that you ever saw us. Understood?”
They nodded and mumbled in the affirmative, then ran off after their goats as fast as their skinny legs could carry them. The jingle of the little goat bells disappeared into the distance along the path in front of us.
“The gift of words and lies,” said Clarás, looking at Kabira’s mouth.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“The life force of the spring has bestowed something on each of us,” said Clarás. “Haven’t you noticed? Though the spring be dead, it lives on in us. You have been given strength in your limbs; Garai, the sacred powers of a priestess; Estegi, the ability to create with her hands; Orseola, a calm energy that helps her control the dreams. And I can see everything.”
Estegi caught sight of the blood on my clothes. We had not stopped since the sun had come up, and in the darkness she had not seen it.
“Sulani! You are hurt!” She came over to me and examined my body with fretting hands.
“I am not hurt. The blood is not mine.”
“But,” she dropped her hands to her sides. Looked me in the eye. Then looked away.
I turned around and readjusted Iona on my back. Gritted my teeth, hard, and continued to walk.
First I recognized the scent of the Sakanui River. It did not smell like my River, but I inhaled it deeply anyhow. We saw more and more people in the fields, and sometimes we passed someone on the path, but when Kabira spoke to them they seemed to forget immediately that they had seen us at all. When the roofs of Ameka ahead of us first came into view, so too did the first soldiers. It was still morning, but the sun had risen a fair way above the horizon.
We sat down in a dell and conferred. It was decided that we could not risk entering Ameka all together. Clarás could sail and Estegi knew where the boat was kept, so they two would go and sail it south along the river and find us on the bank. I wanted to wait until we were under cover of darkness, but Clarás insisted on sailing that same day.
“They would never suspect that we have a boat,” she said, and gazed impatiently at Ameka.
Estegi nodded. “I believe he has sent most of the soldiers northward, where Sulani is from, and eastward, where Garai is from. We must travel as far away as possible before he realizes his mistake.”
“If Esiko doesn’t reveal our plan, that is. She heard everything.”
“My daughter will not betray us,” said Kabira, “do not even think it.” At once I felt a sense of calm flow into me. Of course she would not. We were entirely safe.
“Stop,” said Clarás quietly, and Kabira flinched. The calm in me disappeared.
Clarás and Estegi gathered the ropes and sails and disappeared farther along the path. Garai was sitting bent over Iona, both hands on her forehead, muttering something inaudible. Then she looked up at me.
“Her death is very near now. There is nothing I can do.”
“We are not leaving her here,” I said. In my mind’s eye I saw her once again thrusting the dagger into the captain’s chest. She had done what I had not been able to do.
“I did not mean that either,” said Garai. “But now we must bind her to your back. She cannot hold on any longer.”
We bound Iona to my back with one of Kabira’s shawls, then proceeded to diverge from the path and head through the rolling fields heading south-west. We passed groups of labourers, so emaciated they resembled slaves. All this fertile soil, and nothing to eat. Only spices for trade. Most had not the strength to trouble themselves about us, but if anyone looked at us, once Kabira had spoken to them they immediately looked away.
Kabira could not hurry her steps, especially through the fields, and was slowing us down. I wanted to reach the larger spice plantation farther south. There we could be hidden from curious eyes. The sun was burning my neck and, though Iona was a light burden, I was dripping with sweat. When we finally reached the trees I was as grateful for shade as I was for their protection.
“We are too close to Ohaddin,” I said. “I would rather continue our trek but it is best that we wait for the boat here. We can only hope that Clarás and Estegi come quickly.”
As always when I say Estegi’s name, I felt a sudden burst of warmth in my heart. Then I remembered her expression when she realized why I had blood on my clothes.
I had just laid Iona down under a tree when the soldiers came.
Clarás
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HE SCENT OF THE RIVER BROUGHT TEARS to my eyes. It was nothing like the smell of the ocean, and yet it was water. Free, flowing water. Estegi and I decided to walk through the town without trying to hide. Before we reached the houses I removed the slave comb from my hair and hid it. Estegi was dressed as a servant. Nobody was suspicious. My clothes were simple; I could have passed for the daughter or wife of a merchant. Estegi had to carry the sails and ropes, or else it would have seemed strange.
Estegi led me through the streets and I looked at the people we passed. People with jobs, errands, lives. Soon I too would have such things. I would give these things to my child.
The boathouse lay on the southern edge of the town. Estegi’s cousin had said that we could simply come and take it. But when we reached what we believed to be the right boathouse, it was locked. The only thing to do was go in via the water. Without a moment’s hesitation I took off my jacket and dived in.
Swimming in water! Muddy, sweet river water, but water all the same. My dry skin soaked in the moisture. Below the surface I opened my eyes and my hair swirled before my eyes like seaweed. I swam underwater until I saw her keel, and I knew it was her: Naondel. A strong, fine keel. Healthy wood. I surfaced by her side, like a whale calf to its mother. Pressed my cheek against her. Breathed in the scent of wet wood and hemp. She had been polished with oil and hemp. That was a sign of good craftsmanship.
Reluctantly, I climbed up and opened the gate out to the river. As I stepped into Naondel, she took my weight like an old friend. She had no equipment, not even oars. She had a single mast for a square sail. She was around thirty feet long, and wide, with an angular stern. Not made for sailing on the open sea, but she would do for our voyage to Terasu. In the absence of oars, I had to push her out and then along the length of the boathouse to the pier where Estegi was waiting.
Just as she had thrown aboard the rolls of rope and the heap of sails, a man appeared and spoke to us.
“Hello there.”
A beardless man had appeared behind Estegi. He was a little older than I, his face was sea-worn and his body well worked.
Estegi turned around at once and bowed low to the man.
“We are readying the boat.” She used no title of respect, yet her words were most respectful.
“You stole it.”
“Not at all.” She turned up her palms. “The boat belongs to my cousin. Freeman Wadi. He has bought it but wants us to prepare it and sail it to Shukurin.”
“How can a servant have a freeman as cousin?” The man peered suspiciously at Estegi. Her words had not succeeded in calming his suspicions. Without drawing attention to myself I began to organize the things on deck.
“My parents disowned me,” she said, looking at the ground. “But my cousin has always been good to me.”
I looked at Estegi, and wondered if this were true.
She was still standing with up-facing palms and I could feel a power flowing from her. The gift of the spring. The man ho-hummed and then looked at Naondel.
“You need help with the rigging.” Without awaiting an answer, he stepped aboard. Together we hoisted the sail. I was glad of his help, as it had been a good while since I had handled rigging. We thanked him profusely afterwards, offering a portion of our food provisions as a gift, but he declined. He stood by the boathouse and watched us sail away. With my hand on the helm I felt a deep sense of calm. We were on our way. I had a boat. But Estegi’s words lingered with me.
“Did they really disown you? Your parents?”
She nodded.
“I had to leave my home ’cause there was no money for a dowry. Is that what happened to you?”
She shook her head. “No. It was when I was very little. I am not—” She stopped. She did not want to continue. So I let her be. Some things are better left unsaid.
Sulani
HERE WERE SEVEN OF THEM. THEY OUTNUMBERED us. On horseback, heavily armed. I had my dagger and knife so I could kill two or three, maybe more, but not before they had a chance to harm the other women. Or capture them, capture all of us. Back to the cage. Back to him. The captain, the man, the monster, the Vizier: Iskan.
Soon they had us surrounded. Iona was lying on the ground, up against the trunk of a tree. Orseola was crouching by her side, with one hand on the trunk, muttering something. Garai stood tall by my side, not cowering nor hiding. But what could she do to help me?
The leader of the soldiers, a young man with a chestnut beard and heavy gauntlets, turned to Kabira.
“Kabira ak Malik-cho. Your husband demands your presence in Ohaddin at once.”
Kabira looked disdainfully at the man on the horse. “Tell my husband, the Vizier of Karenokoi, that his wife was nowhere to be found.”
The soldier’s eyes flickered. His gaze swept across us. He gathered his reins to turn his horse and his men did the same.
But then he shuddered and furrowed his brow. “You are to follow us. At once.” He gave a signal to his men and three of them sheathed their swords and dismounted.
The soldiers had been on the lookout for us. It was not as easy to make them forget that they had seen us as it had been with strangers.
Orseola’s mumbling became more and more urgent. The treetops were whispering and rustling in the wind. Dead leaves crumbled beneath the soldiers’ boots as they stepped towards us. One of them was advancing on Iona. The other two on Kabira, Garai and me.
Garai held her hands out to one of them.
“No,” she said, and he stopped. With his mouth half open and his weapon held high, he became as though petrified, with only his eyes still moving.
I drew the dagger I had taken from the soldier on the wall and attacked the other soldier. He was unprepared, and I thrust my weapon into his eye. He was killed instantly. The leader, still on horseback, let out a shout and started advancing towards me, with the three remaining mounted soldiers close behind.
The rustling in the trees was growing ever louder, and it merged with Orseola’s muttering. I pushed Kabira to the ground and passed my knife to Garai, narrowly dodging the leader’s horse. My dagger afforded me little reach so I dived to the side and slit the throat of the soldier who was standing over Iona. I took his sword and spun around.
The leader’s horse whinnied and reared. One of the mounted soldiers started screaming and flailing his hands in front of his face. Then the soldiers lost all control of their horses; they whinnied, bucked and reared, trying to throw their riders.
Everywhere was teeming with insects. On the horses, on the soldiers’ armour and uncovered faces. Crawling, stinging, biting, thrumming. Beetles, ants, spiders, cockroaches, centipedes; all called forth from rotten stumps, tree trunks and dark, moist holes of the earth. The men and horses became frantic. They screamed and thrashed around, and their swords fell clattering to the ground. Only the man Garai had frozen stood stock-still as beetles and cockroaches crawled over his open eyes, in his hair and ears, over his entire body until he was blanketed with a black, living thrum. Then he fell onto his back. Spasmed a few times. Then lay still once more.
Not a single insect touched us women.
The soldiers had lost all control over their mounts, and the horses bolted through the trees. We heard the hoofbeats fade into the distance. Then all was quiet, but for the creeping, crawling sound of millions upon millions of scuttling insects.
I looked at Orseola. She smiled at me.
“Trees can talk to one another,” she said. “Only most have forgotten. I helped them remember. They can also call forth insects, when dangers threaten. They did very well.” She patted the tree trunk and the insects began to crawl back into their holes and hiding places.
Garai had caught one of the fallen soldiers’ horses by the bridle and was whispering to it gently. Its ears were pressed backward and its eyes were rolling but it remained, trembling, as she spoke.
“Keep a hold of him,” she said to me. “I will catch another.”
I did as she said. Held
the horse and stroked his neck and spoke to him.
Kabira sat cross-legged next to Iona, who lay unmoving on the ground under the tree. Orseola stretched out beside them and went to sleep. Nobody spoke.
We did not know how much time we had.
We had no choice but to wait.
After a long while Garai returned with a brown war horse. He was following her willingly though she did not hold his reins.
“We will send the horses to the north,” she said. “They could easily have carried four women away. It may serve to mislead our pursuers. For a while.”
“We can only hope,” sneered Kabira.
I looked at Garai. “How do we make the horses walk north?”
She patted the brown stallion, who nuzzled her cheek. “Not walk. Gallop. And leave clear tracks behind.”
Garai beckoned to the horse I was holding and he started walking towards her at once. She removed both their saddles and saddlebags, then stood between them and spoke quietly. Both animals bowed their heads to the white-haired woman, and flickered their ears towards her. She touched their muzzles and brows, and gently stroked over their eyes. The brown stallion neighed and tossed his head. Then he galloped away, closely followed by the other horse, and they disappeared at full speed.
I lifted up one saddle, carried it down to the river and flung it in as far as I could. Garai brought down the other and did the same. We sat down next to Iona and waited.
Clarás
HE TOOK TO THE RIVER BEAUTIFULLY. The water was dazzling. The helm was smooth. The halyard creaked as the wind filled the sails and we travelled downstream at a good pace, aided by both wind and current. It was like the old days. It was just as I had dreamt. We weren’t safe yet—we were far from safety—but my heart was singing, and as full as Naondel’s sails. Even if they found us now, even if I was stabbed with a sword, pierced by an arrow, I would die free. And they would never take me alive, that I swore to myself. The child in my belly was not flapping or kicking, but neither was it sleeping. I could feel it inside me, rocking in rhythm with the sway of the boat, in awe of all these new wonders. All these miracles.
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