Estegi sat at the fore and did not take her gaze off the east bank. Her eyes were searching through each grove of trees. I looked only forward. Southward. Seaward. It was so close now. I could taste it on my tongue. My skin was tingling and pricking with expectancy. Soon. Soon we would be there.
“There they are!” called Estegi urgently. “I see them! Stop!”
Reluctantly, I steered inland. Naondel was responsive to my every command. I hauled in the sail. She drifted to shore with barely a sound. I cast the anchor as Sulani waded out to meet the boat. She held it as the others quickly climbed aboard without a word. Estegi leant out and laid her hand on Sulani’s, and their eyes met. For a moment Sulani’s face lit up, became beautiful, like the sunrise over the sea. Then it returned to normal just as suddenly.
Garai held the boat while Sulani waded back and fetched Iona. She lifted her gently into it. Her face was pale. Her eyes were closed.
“Is she dead?” Estegi bent over the girl, and tucked an empty sack under her head.
“No.” Garai climbed aboard, last of all, and sat beside Iona. She stroked her forehead. “But she does not have long left.”
I reached for the halyard to hoist the sail again. Garai raised a hand to stop me.
“Wait. Come.”
I picked up Estegi’s small bag of provisions and stumbled under its weight. Then I crouched down on the deck with the others.
I could see it all plainly. It was the power from the skull that had kept her alive for so long. It was holding her death at bay. But this power had diminished to no more than a pulsing little speck deep behind her forehead. Almost totally gone. The spring’s life force was in all of us in different ways: in hands, arms, eyes, heart, and mouth. In Iona it was all but extinguished.
When it died she would die too.
Suddenly she opened her eyes.
“Sisters,” she said, her voice weak but clear.
Then she shut her eyes. Inside her there flickered a weak blue glow.
Garai pulled out her knife. Held it over Iona’s breast, over her heart, the tip pointing down.
Estegi held up her hands. “No! You mustn’t!”
“It is to save her. You must trust me,” she said to Estegi, who slowly lowered her hands.
Garai looked us in the eye, one by one. “Do you trust me?”
We nodded. We had no choice: trust each other, else be done for.
Garai lowered the knife’s tip slowly towards Iona’s breast. Barely touched the pallid skin.
“I offer you,” she said loudly. She passed the knife to Estegi.
“I offer you,” said Estegi, and brought the blade with trembling hands towards the girl’s heart, as if about to stab her. After her, Orseola took it. “I offer you.”
We all took the knife and brought it to her breast and said the words. My turn came last. The handle was warm from the hands of the other women.
“I offer you.”
The flame of the life force flickered one last time. Something passed from Iona into all of us. A small part of her power. A memory of what she had been. A gift from the spring, or a gift from herself.
Iona’s chest did not rise and fall any longer.
Nobody spoke.
The water lapped gently at Naondel’s hull. Estegi wept quietly. Sulani laid a hand on her shoulder. Kabira cleared her throat.
“She is not lost,” I said. The others looked at me. I eyed the knife in my hand. “Something of her remains in each of us now. Each of us who held the knife.”
Garai nodded slowly. “Clarás is right. Therefore we all carry a part of each other inside us. That was Iona’s intention. We are for ever bound now, like sisters. Whatsoever shall happen to one of us, shall happen to us all.” She looked down at the dead girl. “You are free now. No one’s offering any longer.”
She caressed Iona’s face, from the forehead down to the chin.
When she removed her hand the face was that of another. Same hair, same fair skin, similar shapes of nose and mouth. But it was completely changed. The cheeks had become rosy. The lips were fuller. The girl opened up her eyes. They were brown.
She sat up and looked at us.
“My monsters,” she said. When she smiled dimples appeared in her cheeks.
She gazed out to sea. Shut her eyes and inhaled deeply.
“What strong lungs I have!” she said and opened her eyes again with a giggle. She held her hands up to her face. “What fine hands!” She ran her hands all over her body, exploring and feeling. “How beautiful I am!” She smiled, and her smile was irresistible.
“I shall name myself. That will be my first deed in this new body.” She sat quietly awhile, concentrated. “My name is Daera.”
As Naondel sailed southward along the Sakanui, Daera sat at the fore with the wind in her hair. It wasn’t immediately noticeable, but slowly the bonds of our sisterhood were growing. Woman to woman. With Iona’s strength and name in our hearts. Each with a share of her darkness and courage.
I had had a brother, but no sisters. Now I suddenly had six. I looked at them closely with my hand resting on the helm of Naondel. All I could see of Daera was her back and flying hair. She was laughing into the wind. Sulani sat straight-backed with head held high, examining the eastern shore. Her chin was sharp, her arms powerful under the embroidered jacket. Estegi sat by her feet, with head bent over sacks and supplies, sorting and ordering. She trusted us: me to steer us, Sulani to protect us. Orseola lay on the bottom of the boat with her head on a sack and eyes shut. I do not believe she was sleeping. I believe she was seeing dreams, but not her own.
Garai and Kabira sat side by side: two old women with deep lines in their faces. One head of shining white hair, one dark and streaked with silver. They reminded me somehow of sea turtles, ancient and wise. I saw now that Kabira was carrying a burden, something large and bulky. How had I not seen it before?
“What have you there, sister?” I asked.
Kabira turned to look at me. I had not used her family name, Cho. I had spoken to her without being spoken to first.
“Sister.” She observed me contemplatively. “I had sisters, once, Clarás.” She showed the bundle in her lap. “These are the most secret archives from his library. Some of which he has not even deciphered himself.”
“Perhaps our fate is of no interest to Iskan, but he will want to reclaim those.” Garai spoke without anger or complaint.
Kabira looked at her.
“With their help he could reawaken Anji. Or find new ways to enslave people.”
Garai nodded but did not speak.
Kabira thought awhile. “Sisters. So it is.” She raised her voice so that all on the vessel could hear.
“My sisters. I have stolen from Iskan. Knowledge—dangerous knowledge with which he could regain his power. Hurt others anew. These are scrolls he will regain at any cost.” She lifted the bundle from her knee. “They may not appear as much from the outside, but inside there is much that is yet hidden even from me, but about which I intend to learn. Perhaps this knowledge can be of help to us and others. However, it could be very dangerous if it falls into the wrong hands. What do you think I—we—should do with it?”
“Destroy it,” said Sulani at once. “So that no one else may learn about it. Some things should never be recorded, and learnt only by those who have no need for written words to understand them.”
Garai nodded. “I agree, sister Sulani. In part. I also believe that some things are best kept nowhere but in human hearts. But Iskan stole this wisdom from others. Have we the right to destroy their teachings?”
“He is already searching for them.” Orseola sat up. “Not for us, but for them. I see it in his dreams.”
“You can see his dreams? From here?” Garai leant towards her.
“Yes.” Orseola frowned. “I could not see his dreams for many years. He shielded himself with the power of the spring. But now he is naked. I can see far now. I can weave dreams from afar. Farther than I had th
ought possible.”
“Can you send him a dream? A dream to deceive him? Into sending the soldiers in the wrong direction? Perhaps a dream that we rode northward?”
Orseola smiled. “Yes.” She shut her eyes, and her hands began to dance before her face. I kept an eye on the sails and watery depths. The sun was high above our heads. On the east bank of the river spanned newly sown fields, and the calls of the labourers came drifting across the water. Nobody paid us any attention. A mild wind rustled in the rushes along the riverbanks. We were getting closer and closer to the ocean.
Orseola opened her eyes. “He is going to search in the north,” she said.
“How can you be sure?” Sulani said with a frown, before adding: “Sister.” She seemed just as surprised to hear the word come out of her mouth as Kabira had.
“How can you be sure that you can swing a sword? Slay a warrior?” Orseola lay down again and shut her eyes, content as a cat in the sunshine. “No need to destroy the texts. You have my word, sister.”
And so it was decided. Nobody protested. I don’t even know if Daera heard our conversation. She was lying on her belly at the fore and dragging one hand through the cloudy river water. She followed the flight of the dragonflies and water striders with her gaze. She looked at everything as though it were new, and created just for her. I felt a vague envy, which soon disappeared. I turned my face to the sun and adjusted the helm slightly, and felt Naondel respond.
Daera
OW IS THE TIME FOR MY STORY, FINALLY it is time! I remember crystal-clear that day on the river when I was born. Everything is etched in my memory: the shadows of the trees on the riverbank, the river’s scent of mud and rot, how smoothly Naondel flew through the water. I remember every blade of grass; though Kabira says it is impossible, that is how it feels! Everything was so miraculous, so incredible, but nothing more so than my own body. I had a body that was all mine! It was not destined to be an offering. It was not someone else’s to possess. It was mine alone, and as I sat at the ship’s fore I was fully engaged in the sensations of living in this, my very own body. My hands were soft and flawless. My heartbeat steady and even. In my mouth my teeth rested against each other. My eyes could see, my ears could hear. I had more than I could have ever wished for. I ran my fingertips over the soft skin of my neck and a shudder of pleasure spread through my body. I could feel pleasure! I laughed and turned around to look at my sisters, the ones who had made me. So beautiful, so fragile, so strong. I fell to my knees beside Estegi and grasped her hands.
“Thank you my sister, for showing me trust,” I said and kissed the backs of her hands. They felt harsh and hardened in my soft, dainty ones as I caressed her callused palms. Estegi blushed and mumbled a thank you. I looked up at Sulani, who was piercing me with jealous eyes, but I laid my chin on her knee anyhow and smiled up at her. “Thank you my sister, for protecting me with your strength.” She gave a quick nod, and then looked away, out towards the shore. She was watching over us. I felt safe in her company. I crept down next to Orseola on the deck and whispered in her ear, catching her thick locks of hair in my mouth. “Thank you my sister for confusing our pursuers.” She turned to face me and rubbed her nose against mine. I got up and went to the helm of the boat, where I bent over Clarás, who was sitting with her swollen belly and the ship’s helm in her hand. “Thank you my sister, for steering us true,” I said. Clarás smiled at me with her deep-grey eyes and I could feel her smile reach all the way inside me.
“I have not steered us true yet, little sister.”
“But I know that you will!” I swung around and skipped over to Kabira and Garai, who were sitting midship like two little birds, observing all that was happening around them.
“Thank you, my sister, for slaying the spring. For choosing us.” Kabira looked at me with a fathomless sorrow in her eyes. My heart ached for her, for all she had suffered. My instincts told me to fall to my knees and lay my head on her belly. “I can be your daughter, if you like,” I whispered. Her knees were hard and bony beneath me, but then she placed her two warm wrinkled hands in my hair.
“That should be fine,” she said, but her voice sounded thick. I looked up at her weathered face, and at Garai’s.
“You have much inside you, Daera,” said Garai, and I laughed because it was the first time someone had pronounced my name and it was unbelievably beautiful!
“Thank you my sister,” I began, but then I choked up and it was difficult to get the last words out. “For creating me. For delivering me.”
She smiled, a smile that was both austere and warm, and laid her hands on top of Kabira’s. Four hands upon my head. Like a blessing.
* * *
We anchored before we reached the ocean. It was evening, with blue shadows and twilit birdsong, and it was all so beautiful that my heart could hardly bear it all. Between us and the sea lay the port town of Shukurin. Estegi had said it was not really a town, rather a trading point connecting river and sea. Sulani did not want us to sail through during daylight. We would wait until the first hour of dawn, when few were awake, and slip past unnoticed. That was the plan. We hid Naondel in a thicket, for this close to the ocean the river was full of boats of various types.
Clarás lay down at once in Naondel to sleep. She was pale-cheeked and Estegi was fussing around her to make her as comfortable as possible. Observing the round belly under her jacket, I saw something push against the skin from the inside. A foot or a head. An entirely new person was waiting inside there. Someone new, like me.
When she was finished with Clarás, Estegi filled a waterskin with fresh river water. Sulani helped her, and occasionally their hands brushed against one another, as though by accident, and they exchanged glances. Their glances made me tingle inside, tickling at places I did not even know existed in my body. They had something between them. They shared something. I wanted that too.
Kabira and Garai also lay down to rest. I sat on the shore, gazed out across the dark river and saw the stars lighting up, one by one. Frogs were croaking in the reeds. Soon Orseola and Sulani were the only others awake, Orseola because she never liked to sleep when the others did, and Sulani because she was keeping watch. Restlessness fluttered through my body. The world was so beautiful, so new, I wanted to see and experience all that I could.
“I am going ashore,” I said, and got up. Sulani shook her head, with that eternal wrinkle in her brow.
“That is not a good idea. Stay here.”
But Orseola looked at me, and a little smile played at the corner of her lips. “Let her go, warrior. Some things cannot be confined.”
So Sulani let me go, and I ran up to the riverbank on light, bare feet and emerged from the thicket we were hidden in.
The sky was enormous above me. There were more stars than I could have imagined possible. A memory flashed through my mind—a different sky, above an island and ocean—and then it was gone. I wandered off along the path that ran between the riverbank and fields of budding okahara until I found a flat, grassy slope. I lay on my back there and looked up at the vast blackness and felt myself disappear into it, and my cheeks were wet and my heart was aching for the beauty of it all, and because I could not fathom why I was receiving all these blessings.
I heard no steps. He moved so lightly and quietly that he tripped over my legs before I noticed his arrival. I sat up as he fell backward, and we looked at each other in the moonlight.
“Oh,” he said. “Excuse me.” His dark eyes were kind. His voice was gentle: no longer that of a child, though not quite yet a man. His hair fell across his eyes.
I smiled at him and saw that my smile made him bashful. He rose to his knees and brushed the earth from his palms.
“What are you doing out here at night? It is dangerous.”
“Nothing out here can harm me,” I said and leant in towards him. I breathed in the scent of stables and sweat. I reached out my hand and stroked it over his arm. He took a deep breath but did not move. His skin was soft like
silk, but warm and alive. I held my arm next to his and compared our skin: the colour, the hairs, the veins underneath. I leant my face forward and sniffed at his neck, behind his ears. Life! He smelt of life. My breath against his neck made him tremble. I wanted to feel the same. I sat astride him, pulled his face close to mine and kissed him. His lips were rough. I did not really know what to do, and neither did he, but it did not matter. We bumped noses and laughed, but then continued to kiss. He pulled me close into him. His shoulders were bony, his ribcage was hard. His body did not feel at all like mine. I peeled the shirt off his shoulders and explored his body with my hands. Slowly his kisses, his hands, his sex against mine, made me feel hot and weak and eager. I wanted it, I wanted to feel all of these new things.
With every movement we made together, more and more I claimed my body as my own. I wanted to know all about it, how it reacted, what it wanted. It was no offering, no one else’s possession to decide over. It was mine and mine alone. To use as I wanted. It was like finding home, it was like falling among stars, it was everything and more.
Afterwards I sat still awhile and felt the moist earth beneath my naked buttocks. He smelt differently now. So did I. He was leaning on his elbow and looking at me in wonder.
“Are you for real? Or are you the spirit of the river?”
“For you I became flesh and blood tonight,” I answered and smiled.
When I had dressed and turned to go he called after me, asked me my name, begged me to stay. I smiled into the night air as I continued walking.
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