by Raye Wagner
Another growl was followed by the sound of splintering wood, and the bleating of the goats became a scream. The panicked sound cut off, and I cringed. There was another bleat, short and pathetic, and I hoped the other animal would be smart enough to flee.
The seconds dragged, and I shifted onto my knees, thinking we should investigate. I opened my mouth to say so, and a threatening snarl sliced the air. The vicious sound was followed by an answering shriek, and then the night air was filled with the violent screeches, rumbles, and wails of savage animals. My heart leapt into my throat. “Ruin!”
The commotion continued, and I wanted to crawl out of my skin. The minutes seemed like hours, and my lungs and heart battled against my ribs. The inside of the hovel smelled of sour milk, fruit, and sweat, the stench filling my lungs with every breath. I needed fresh air. I needed to feel Ruin’s silky fur. I needed him to be okay because I owed him.
After an eternity, there was huffing and scratching on the wall near the goat pen. A few minutes later, there was more scratching on a different wall, and then again.
It’s over! I scrambled toward the door, stumbling to get to Ruin.
“Stop!” Esi snapped. “Don’t you dare open that door.”
“It’s Ruin—”
“You don’t know that. You don’t know if it was one panthera or more, or a pack of wild dogs. That scratching is something marking his territory. If you open that door, you remove the only defense we have. Even if it is Ruin…”
I swallowed, understanding what she didn’t say: he might not know me. And worse, if it wasn’t him, I’d be risking both our lives. I crawled to bed, my eyes burning as I felt my way through the crates and pails, sniffing back the tears and hating that Esi was right.
“Just wait. In the morning, we’ll be able to see.”
Esi’s caution was not only reasonable, but it was the only option to ensure our safety. I flopped onto my pallet and stared up into the darkness, waiting. I tossed and turned, twisting the bedding into a heap with my impatience. The patter of rain filled the room, but there was no comfort in the sound.
Eventually, the thick layer of night melted into the gray predawn light. The silence stretched my nerves, thinning them, and when Esi nodded my way as she arose, my stomach flipped.
“Let’s go see the damage,” she said, her expression grave.
I tugged the door open, and Bizi squeezed through, bleating desperately. The poor creature stayed inside the hovel even after we stepped outside. The morning air was pungent from the fresh rain. The scents of orchids mixed with the rich loam of the forest, but underneath the clean smells of the jungle, I could pick off the coppery tang of blood. I scanned the clearing, spinning toward the back when I didn’t immediately spot Ruin. My chest was tight. I couldn’t breathe. Tears burned at the back of my eyes.
Just before I thought I might pass out, he rounded the corner of Esi’s house with lithe, liquid movements, striding through the mist. I dropped to my knees, releasing my worry with a loud, shaky exhale. Lowering my head to his, I whispered, “You scared me.”
Esi grunted and stepped past us, disappearing around the corner.
I took another breath, this one steadier, and sat back on my heels. Relief tugged at the corners of my lips, and I ruffled Ruin’s fur.
Esi swore, a loud string of expletives followed by the crash of a pail hitting a tree.
“What happened?” I asked, leaping to my feet. The world tilted, and I patted Ruin’s head to reorient and then inched forward, halting when Esi rounded on me. She stopped a few paces from me, her expression contorted with rage.
“I have to tell the council,” she snapped, pointing to the mangled fence. No, not the fence. There in the mud was one of Tebi’s legs, part of her bone jutting out of the mud.
Defensiveness flared through me. “Tell them what?” I asked, balling my hands and meeting her emotion with my own. “That the goats were attacked? Fine, tell them. Just make sure you tell them Ruin won that fight.”
Esi glared at me, her expression becoming even more fierce as she threw shade at Ruin. “First, you don’t know if there were animals fighting or if it was just him slaughtering my goat. If he’s killing our animals, he can’t stay. The goats don’t belong to me, Taja, and we can’t just go to Yândarî’s market to get another.”
“Then go to a different outpost!” Even if Ruin did kill their goat, it would take a couple weeks to travel to another post and back, and someone here had to have enough magîk to be able to trade for a few goats. “Qralî is big. The magî wouldn’t have to say where they’re from.”
She rolled her eyes and sighed. “You still don’t get it! The entire point of eliminating magîk from our lives in Pûleêr is to make sure the kümdâr doesn’t bother to find out if we still exist. No one wants to go anywhere that might jeopardize that.”
“I heard you, and I get it.” I seethed because I refused to believe there were no options. “But—”
“They’re doing the same thing!” She kicked the post, which was now only a foot high, the top a jagged shard of wood. “They won’t trade with us because we have nothing to offer them. None of us are using magîk!”
The pen was in shambles—what I could see, anyway. The fencing lay scattered on the ground, and Esi fixed me with her glare. Her frustration pressed against me, and I kept quiet as I processed the world around me. For a goat to be worth more than a magî, even if I was an amnesiac, was incongruous with the Qralî I knew.
“The goal is to be self-sustaining,” she said, grabbing a pail and crate. “Pûleêr takes care of Pûleêr.”
She brushed past me and returned to her home, setting up a milking station right there where Bizi stood trembling in the middle of the hovel. I followed her inside, and Ruin kept pace, my fingers still in his fur. She started kneading Bizi’s teats and, after several moments of silence, spoke in a controlled voice.
“There’s plenty of food, so we won’t starve,” she said. The milk zinged against the metal pail. “And if we can keep the jungle back, we’ll have plenty of space for our people.”
The smell of warm milk filled the stuffy air, and Esi continued to work on Bizi while I watched, waiting for her to fill me in on the rest of the plan, something that would make sense long term. But the silence stretched, and I wondered if there was more. Eventually, I couldn’t take it.
“And then what?” I asked. I ran my hand over Ruin, my own irritation rising. “I really want to know. What is the end goal? Are you just waiting until the kümdâr eventually dies?”
She nodded.
“That’s it? That’s your plan?” Before she could say anything else, I snapped because that plan was beyond banal. “And what if the next one is worse, or Zerôn’s soul comes back to rule again? Hiding isn’t a solution—”
“Really?” she growled. Glancing my way, she sent the next squirt of milk to the side of the bucket, spraying her foot. “You have something better? Tell me, what would you suggest?”
“Fight.”
“With what?” she grunted. She continued to milk Bizi, keeping her attention fixed now on her work. “Magîk? The kümdâr has all the most powerful magî as Serîk, and he’s killed thousands of his own people. We. Can’t. Beat. Him.”
I stared at her, stunned. “You haven’t even tried—”
Esi threw her hands up in the air. “Taja, the best we can hope for is to save Pûleêr. And if your pet panthera is killing our animals, we’ll have no choice but to hunt him—either drive him away or kill him.” She darted a gaze at Ruin and clenched her jaw. “Eventually, we have to kill him.”
No way was I going to let that happen. “Fine,” I said, absently running my hand over Ruin. His fur was stiff with mud, and I decided I’d take him to the pool with the waterfall on our way out of Pûleêr. “We’ll leave. If he can’t stay, I won’t either.”
Esi finished milking Bizi, then stood and dug through a pile of fabric. She pulled out a long rope and looped the lead over the goat�
��s head. “Be my guest.” Storming to the door, she dragged Bizi behind her, the milk sloshing over the sides of the pail as she snapped, “Just don’t steal anything on your way out.”
This Esi was nothing like the nice girl who’d helped me—was that only days ago? “I wouldn’t dream of stealing anything from you. I wouldn’t return kindness with betrayal.”
She paused midyank on the door and then released a forceful exhale, dropping her chin to her chest. Even so, she gave the metal handle another heave and slipped out without another glance or word my way.
I shook my head, trying to brush off the caving emptiness hollowing out my chest. Why her sudden switch in personality—and over a goat? The hurt refused to budge, so I did the next best thing. Rolling my shoulders, I pretended the sting fell to the ground behind me. Turning to Ruin, I ran my hand back over the clump in his fur and said, “You need a bath, and I know—”
He whimpered at the same time Esi shrieked. The subsequent string of expletives trailing through the air made it apparent she was alive and very much intact, albeit surprised.
Still angry, I kept my attention on Ruin, looking closer at his coat. I rubbed part of the clump between my fingers, and the dried mud flaked off. Looking at the sediment, I gasped. His fur wasn’t matted with mud but blood.
“Shh,” I said, pushing the fur from around his wound. “I just want to see.”
He growled but held still while I examined the deep gash along his side. I ran my hand over his head and noticed another wound on his cheek, both caked with blood.
“Oh, Ruin,” I cooed.
“Taja!” Esi bellowed. “Come here.”
I jumped up, my dawning horror leaping into a panic with her call. Darting out the door, I hollered at Ruin, “You stay.”
The morning light cast the clearing around Esi’s home in muted hues now, but the mist was gone. The pail and Bizi sat at the head of the trail we used to get to the perimeter road, but Esi wasn’t there.
“Oh my soul,” she gasped, coming around from the back of her house. Her face was ashen, eyes wide and filled with tears as she met my gaze. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered before covering her mouth. She shook her head and blinked, the moisture spilling down her cheeks. “I didn’t know.”
I wasn’t so sure I wanted to know either, but whatever remains lay at the back of the house had to do with Ruin and the commotion last night, so I stepped past Esi and tramped around the corner.
“Rot and ruin,” I said, exhaling my surprise into the heavy air.
The entire goats’ pen was destroyed—all of it. The wood fencing near the jungle was bit clean through, leaving a gaping hole on top of the portion I’d already seen. Another piece of Tebi’s leg lay in the churned muck, dropped by the now-deceased spotted panthera whose meal had obviously been interrupted—by Ruin.
The dead animal occupied much of the rest of the space, slumped on his side, his one visible golden eye glassy in death. The ground around him was saturated, and a small dark puddle remained under the gaping wound in his neck. The edges of flesh were ragged, his fur stained with blood. I stepped closer and noticed half of the animal’s skull was crushed, its contents spilled into the muck in a gruesome display of Ruin’s power.
I reeled on Esi. “He was protecting us and the fetid goats.”
She nodded, still pale, her entire body trembling. “I can s-see that,” she stuttered. “I’m s-sorry.”
“So you’re not going to tell the council—”
“No,” she murmured. “I wouldn’t dare. He can stay as long as he—you—want.” She tilted her head toward Bizi and the pail. “I’m going to take them to Dostane, but the council will want to know what happened to Tebi, and then they’ll investigate. It’s probably a good idea to hide Ruin in the jungle, at least until tonight.”
The bell clanged, calling us to breakfast and our daily work.
“I’ll tell them.” She shook her head, her hands still trembling. “I don’t know what I’ll tell them, but I’ll come up with something for now. Just get him out of here, and then come find me in our group, wherever that is.” She glanced up at the canopy and muttered, “This is never going to end.”
“All right.” My heart was torn between sympathy and the thrum of irritated vindication. I liked Esi, and given her compounded loss, perhaps her reaction wasn’t unreasonable. I pushed away my resentment and said, “I’ll see you in about an hour. Tell them I went to wash off the blood.”
“Okay.” She gave me a tentative smile and added, “I’m sorry I turned on you, too. It’s just…”
Her eyes filled with tears, and any remaining bitterness I had dissolved.
“Go on,” I said, offering her a sympathetic smile. “I’ll forgive you if you forgive me for messing up your life.”
“Of course. But you didn’t mess it up. I mean, you did, but I don’t care.” She left, her steps slow and shoulders slumped, and I hurried back to Ruin.
The large cat stood at the doorway, waiting for me. I refused to process why he’d listened; I was just happy he did. Resting my hand on his head, I said, “Let’s go get you cleaned up. There’s a pool of water not too far from here, and then after the magî leave, you can come back and go to sleep.”
I wasn’t sure what Esi said, but tension radiated with the magîs’ movements, and several of them kept their eyes averted when I joined the group. The area we’d been assigned was north of Pûleêr, not too far from where the bûyî had appeared. Most of the magî attacked the growth with viciousness, as though revenge on the jungle meant anything. I approached the line and noticed a cluster of five off to the side, not even pretending to work.
“You made it,” Esi said with a too-bright smile. “Thanks for cleaning up. I saved you some cheese from breakfast.” She held out a bit of oiled cloth.
“Thanks.” I ate the small ball, forcing each swallow, for my appetite had dried up while giving Ruin a bath. His wounds were deep, and without magîk to bind the gashes, he ran a significant risk of infection.
The hours blurred in the constant drizzle of rain, but we reclaimed the border from the jungle by early afternoon.
“I have to talk with Rull and the council,” Esi said after we’d finished for the day. “They want another report about you.” She rolled her eyes and added, “You know, to make sure you’re working hard and not using magîk.”
I curled my lip as she spoke and then blurted, “Don’t they get tired of their pretenses? For as much as they tout being different than the sovereign—”
“Shush,” Esi hissed, her gaze darting to the departing magî. She shook her head and muttered, “I’ll save you a seat at dinner.”
Exasperated and tired, I merely shrugged, not particularly interested in eating dinner with the citizens of Pûleêr. If all of the realm was like this, Esi was right.
After washing the still-oozing blood from Ruin’s fur, I left him lying on the riverbank in the sun and went to supper. Hurrying through the line, I collected a small plateful of food. When the female behind the counter passed over the cheese spoon, I gave her a big fake smile and said, “Pûleêr is truly the standard of moral justice, isn’t it?”
Then I went to an empty table and scarfed down a few bites before leaving.
I sighed when I saw Ruin stretched out on my sleeping pallet, relieved that he’d made it home before me. I stepped toward the hut, and he opened his eyes and then yawned, stretched, and kneaded the bedclothes before collapsing again.
“You think that’s hard work?” I called to him, standing just outside the open door and rubbing a cloth down my muddy legs. My fatigue tonight was just as much emotional as physical, and my head throbbed with need for sleep. “I think the system the council is using is rot. Any guess as to which group was nearest the spot where the bûyî was today?”
I finished cleaning up and entered, only to be stopped by Bizi bleating. The council must’ve brought her back at some point and left the door open—which would explain how Ruin got inside. I
stooped to press on her udder and rolled my eyes. Why was I not surprised no one had milked her?
“All right, girl,” I said, pulling up a crate. “Sorry about Tebi,” I told her, squeezing out a stream of warm milk. “I know she was your friend, but I’m glad Ruin saved you. You were always my favorite.”
I closed my eyes as I continued to work, dreaming of yogurt and cheese.
“Taja?” Esi said, shaking my shoulder.
I straightened, squinting to see through the blurriness of my fatigue, but that wasn’t the only problem. I couldn’t even make out her features because of the darkness.
“Go to bed,” she chided, pushing me to vacate the stool.
I let her take over, too tired to fight. “I was trying to be helpful,” I mumbled as I shuffled to my pallet. “I didn’t want you to have to do any more.”
“It’s fine,” she replied, her voice filled with weariness. “It’s not your job to make things right.”
I knelt on the edge of the bed and pushed against Ruin—the cat was at least three hundred pounds.
“Move over,” I muttered as I fell forward with my eyes closed. I ran my hand over his shoulder, drifting to sleep to his rhythmic purr.
Sometime in the night, Ruin shifted on the pallet next to me. I reached out and, instead of connecting with his fur, ran my hand over the warm skin and hard muscles of a male’s shoulder and then his chest. He turned, facing me, and trailed his hand down my side. A warm, honey-like sensation spread through me as he traced sparks of fire over my skin.
“Shh,” said Hallucination-magî.
I wanted him to be real, so I kept my eyes closed and drifted back to sleep, pretending he was. The fatigue was almost worth the dream.
Two weeks slipped by, the days blurring into one another, my measurement of time passing recorded by Ruin’s healing wounds. The gashes knit together faster than I’d anticipated given their depth, and within a few days, we found ourselves in a routine of working and sleeping—me working and him sleeping.
Ruin was laaazy—at least by magî standards. He slept most of the day away on my pallet but would frequently disappear at dawn or dusk, returning with a wet muzzle. Twice he brought us presents, once dragging in a newly dead seven-foot caiman still oozing blood from Ruin’s crushing bite. Esi fetched Rull and a couple other members of the council to divvy up the meat. When they asked how we’d caught the animal, Esi diverted the question.
