“We’re going to be hauling food up here for days,” Hart observed mournfully, hardly winded from the climb, unlike me. Together we surveyed the area from the hummock of grassy land we stood on. Soggy, but at least not underwater. “At least. Longer if the rains keep going.”
According to the D’tiembo records, the longest rainy season had ended ten days before this one, making our current rains a record breaker, at least within their family history. And the storms kept intensifying, not abating. Lightning like this happened only rarely, and usually early in the season. I hadn’t asked how long the food would hold out. The storehouse had seemed so robust and full to me, but even I could see that consolidating four stories into three hadn’t made it look any fuller. Elephants ate a lot and supplies were dwindling.
“Violet!” I yelled to the big matriarch, waving my hands to catch her attention. No sense plunging into the water if she could come to me.
Hart gave me a funny look. “It’s so odd to hear you even talk, and then you yell. What is that accent anyway?”
Violet had heard me and turned in our direction, sloshing through the chest-deep water toward me, so I spared Hart a glance. Odd that he didn’t know. But then, he also didn’t bunk with the family, instead sharing sleeping barracks with a bunch of the other workers. I’d always been a bit bemused by the difference between my status and his. Hearing Ochieng declare his long-held interest in me explained a great deal.
“Dasnarian,” I said.
“Huh.” He frowned. “Never heard of it.”
“You’re not missing anything,” I replied, my attention on Violet, then realized what I’d said. How disloyal of me. My marriage had been terrible, but that didn’t make all of Dasnaria bad. Many people lived in and loved my homeland. Then Violet reached us and I didn’t have to explain—or think about that. We had to get down the hill, and back up again. Oh, and then down again. Wonderful.
I gave Violet the hand signal to kneel, and she lifted her ears in surprise, but blew out a long breath and levered her front end down. Before she finished, I’d leapt onto her upraised knee and climbed, settling myself into the familiar nook behind her ears, and urging her to stand again. From Violet’s great height I looked down at Hart, who now seemed forlorn and bedraggled, down on the ground alone.
“Want a ride down?” I called to him.
“Glorianna, no!” He cut his hands in negative emphasis, just in case I misunderstood, apparently. “No way am I risking my life.”
“She’s gentle as a kitten. You can ride behind me.”
“No way,” he repeated. “I’m safer walking.” And, as if to prove his point, he turned and headed determinedly back down the trail, shoulders hunched against the rain.
Violet turned to look at the lake, and I realized I should mind myself—and my mount. Violet had a mischievous bent that led her to try to dunk her rider in the nearest body of water if they weren’t paying attention. With no saddle, reins or other means to direct the big creature, an elephant rider had to hone her intention. I’d gotten somewhat good at it before my injuries, but I hadn’t been on her since.
Ochieng would sing to her—to all the elephants, much as the caravan drivers sang to the negombe—but I hadn’t learned those songs. Besides, before I’d been under my vow of silence and had learned to communicate with Violet silently. Funny that it seemed unfamiliar now.
But I concentrated on the image of Efe and Ochieng, back under the pavilion, waiting for us—and Violet turned her own attention to the path leading down the hill, and swung into motion. To my infinite relief. It hadn’t occurred to me until that moment that Violet might detect the monster inside me and refuse to obey.
Of course, it could be that Violet had known that about me all along. Probably better than I did, as I hadn’t realized the scope of my monstrosity until I found myself dealing death with unholy glee.
Not something to be thinking about just then. Think about where you want to go, not where you don’t want to be.
I’d wondered how the heavier creature would make it down that slippery slope, but she handled it like a champ. We passed Hart immediately, who waved as we went by. Violet managed by essentially leaping over the steep spots, dancing with surprisingly nimble feet over the stones, even lowering her haunches in a controlled slide from time to time.
It was harrowing. And exhilarating. Much like that kiss.
Sometimes it seemed as if the most frightening things turned out to be the most exciting, too.
~ 6 ~
Violet and I made it to the bottom and the pavilion in a quarter of the time it had taken Hart and I to climb up. As it was, the water had risen considerably, up to Ochieng’s chest and he hailed us with glad relief—as did Efe, who hurled herself at Violet, her matriarch and adoptive mother. Reaching up to grasp my bare foot while the elephants exchanged greetings, Ochieng surveyed me. His touch, even only on my foot, made me feel as if I’d come home.
“Are you all right?”
I nodded. “Hart is walking down. The path is a mess. More waterfall than road. We should hurry.”
“Agreed. Let me see if I can coax Efe along. You direct Violet.”
Fortunately the lighting and consequent thunder had rolled away, the torrential downpour even backing off into a softer rain for the moment. I urged Violet back up the hill, and—keeping her trunk entwined with Efe’s—she obliged. Ochieng waded along on Efe’s other side, both holding onto her stable bulk and guiding her to the path, keeping her from balking and running back for the dubious shelter of the pavilion.
Efe’s hide twitched and shivered, but she stayed close to Violet. Much of Efe’s panic might have come from the other elephants abandoning her as much as from the floodwaters. She could’ve saved herself a great deal of angst if she’d simply gone with them when they left. The D’tiembos leading the elephants to higher ground had assumed Efe would follow once she saw where they were going. But no, the self-defeating creature had dug in instead, refusing to leave the shelter, to her own sorrow.
Much as I had done when I first fled Dasnaria aboard the Valeria, hiding in my dark cabin, too stupid to know I could light a lantern or open the portholes. I’d managed to escape, seeking freedom, but still trapped myself in a new prison of my own fears.
Until Kaja forced the door open and dragged me into daylight. Could I somehow do the same for Efe? I’d had the idea—because Kaja gave it to me—that I might be like her, that I could serve Danu by helping those weaker than myself. Efe possessed size and strength far beyond mine, but fear weakened her. At least the rain didn’t frighten me. Other things did though.
Violet started up the hill, nudging Efe along, slightly ahead of her, the younger elephant hustling now and outpacing Ochieng as she left the floodwaters behind. Perhaps I still let fears trap me. I might be cowering in my own dubious shelter, the floodwaters rising while everyone else had moved to safety, waiting for me to join them. I couldn’t think about helping Efe until I helped myself.
“Want a ride?” I called down to Ochieng, who scrambled to keep up now. I held a hand down to him, asking Violet to slow, and he grinned at me. Taking a running start, he leapt, grasping my hand and vaulting onto Violet’s back behind me.
“Thank you,” he said, brushing a kiss against my cheek, then easing back to put a space between us.
I reached back for his hand though, and drew it around my waist. “Sit forward,” I instructed, mimicking him as he’d taught me that first day. “In front of her shoulders and under the ears. Grasp with your legs and don’t worry about your hands.”
He chuckled, sliding both hands around my waist, though lightly, still careful of how he touched me. “Good to know.” He was quiet a moment, watching Efe climb the hill, agile as a monkey. “What brought this on?”
I could pretend not to know what he meant, but it occurred to me that facing fears meant speaking about them, too. So I
deliberately relaxed, leaning back against his strong chest, aware of how still he held himself. Careful not to startle me.
“I’m tired of being afraid,” I told him.
“Ah,” he breathed. His hands flexed on my flat belly. With his long arms and my narrow build, he could wrap them all the way around me, perhaps twice. And I worried that I felt too skinny to him, that my hip bones jutted too sharply. I decided that this, too, was part of the being afraid.
“I think I want to try to really work with Efe,” I said. “Like I started to before… everything. If you would help.”
“I’m happy to help,” he replied, not seeming to find it an odd change of subject. Or perhaps he understood how those things connected in my mind. “But I suspect you’ll do better without my interference. I’ve yet to see a clear path into Efe’s trust. Perhaps you can show me the way.”
Aha. We weren’t entirely talking about just Efe then. “If I can find it myself,” I told him.
“You will. I believe in you.”
Just as Kaja had said to me. I blinked back the tears that pricked my eyes, glad to find I could. Perhaps the days of the tears spilling without my control had passed. “As soon as the rains end, then,” I said. “I’ll start working with her. If they ever end.”
“They will.” He tightened his arms slightly, a sort of easy embrace. “Everything ends, and the new things begin. You can depend on it.”
* * * *
He was right, of course. Even I, who’d never experienced it before, felt the shift in the weather two days later. Despite Desta’s dire predictions, the wind changed directions, the clouds began to lighten, then break apart. The rain lessened, then abruptly ceased. The river receded.
And, the sun came out, bright and hot, as if she’d been there all along, trying to burn her way through. Though it was later morning, I went onto the terrace and performed the sunrise prayers to Glorianna. I sang Her song to welcome Her return from night, genuflecting and rising in the ritual Kaja had taught me. My joints and muscles, lax with disuse, protested the strain—but it felt good, too. The burn of effort returned to my body with the sun, fueling and lighting me from within. I’d been sitting idle long enough. With the end of the rainy season, my time of hiding and healing would end also, I resolved.
So, when I finished the prayers to Glorianna, I moved into the ducerse, albeit a deeply modified version. I had a great deal to recover. But I’d never learned any of Danu’s forms, so the ducerse was as close as I had. I hummed the music to myself, cupping my palms to the sky, and finally finishing with Danu’s salute, the sun near enough to zenith to make the moment perfect.
I held it as long as I could, up on the toes of one foot, my knee bent and upraised, one hand pointed at the sky and the other at my heart. Not anywhere near as long as I used to hold it, but at least I could do it.
And, for the first time, I felt empty handed without my weapons.
Lowering myself, I looked around to find my students with me, following my lead in lowering themselves to flat feet, eyes bright and smiles wide. We were back.
* * * *
The ground dried rapidly, great clouds of steam rising from the saturated soil. I helped with clean up, riding Violet to collect debris, which we dumped in the still raging river. We used a big sled attached to a harness around her chest. It slid over the still-slick mud to the river’s edge, where workers like Hart waited to toss the stuff in. I found I loved watching the stuff sweep away, tumbling out of sight in the torrent.
If only I could dispose of my own debris as easily. I’d survived my personal rainy season. I was safe, had a good home, things I loved to do. If I could only clear out all the garbage left behind by the floods that had wracked my soul, I could be free again. I could have clear and fertile fields for planting, like the ones the town people of Nyambura prepared in our wake, as we brought the elephant teams in to clear the detritus. The mud from flooding made the soil even richer, Ochieng said, and the moisture helped the seeds to sprout. Soon enough it would be too hot and dry to grow much besides grass, so the Nyamburans sprang into sowing without delay.
I suspected they all embraced the activity with the same joy I’d found in greeting the sun again. It felt delicious, like a big stretch after a long, nourishing sleep, to be outside doing physical work.
Many tasks needed doing, too. Once the fields had been cleared for planting, Violet and I worked in tandem with Ochieng on Bimyr, the elephants dragging a heavy blade between them to plane the roads flat again. It took many passes and careful direction to keep the blade even and the elephants aligned for the precise angle. Gradually we smoothed out the ruts again, first doing all the ones around the D’tiembo house, then radiating out to handle the ones around town and even the big main road leading into Nyambura from Greater Chiyajua.
Thus, Ochieng and I were among the first to greet the messenger who arrived, riding fast on a mud-splattered horse. I hadn’t seen many horses in Chiyajua. The people preferred the slow-moving, steady negombe for distance travel. Even I could see, however, that it would still be some weeks before the roads dried enough to bear the heavy traffic of the caravans. As it was, we’d been careful to keep the elephants on the grassy verge of the roads, where the grasses held the soil more solid than the slick mud.
Ochieng offered the man some water from his flask, which the messenger took gratefully, but he refused the offer of hospitality in Nyambura. He passed along a bag of scrolls, if we’d be willing to see them distributed to the correct recipients around the area. I stayed up on Violet’s back, keeping her steady and thus Bimyr quiet, too, while Ochieng climbed down to talk with the man, but I could hear most of their conversation—until they moved into a different dialect.
The messenger seemed to be telling a story that had Ochieng looking thoughtful, then concerned. It required much waving of hands on the messenger’s part, and enough rapid detail that he seemed relieved to be speaking in his own language. I hadn’t really wanted to meet the man, finding I retained quite a bit of shyness around strangers. Not quite a fear, but I was self-conscious of my hard-edged Dasnarian accent and often clumsy pronunciation.
And though I didn’t think anyone would come looking for me with my late husband and his men all dead—to be blamed on their late-season journey at the beginning of the worst rainy season on record—I felt better being unremarked on. With my wide-brimmed hat on—a new one that Thanda had found for me when the sun came out, decent enough though too big and I didn’t love it as I’d loved the first one Ochieng had given me, that my late husband crushed—my pale hair didn’t show. Of course, my fair skin did, but in the Nyamburan clothes I liked to think I didn’t stand out so much.
Ochieng had said not to worry, but I did, watching his face crease as the messenger spoke at length. Then he shouldered the bag of scrolls, climbed up Bimyr so she wouldn’t have to kneel and disturb the dredge, and smiled over at me. “We can turn back here and make a last pass on the way home. Call it a day. I’m for a hot soak, how about you?”
Palesa and Thanda had cleared out the hot pool the day before and had announced yesterday evening that the natural spring ran clear again. We were all excited to be able to soak again. Ironic, as we’d been nothing but wet for weeks. Still it seemed a different enterprise entirely. I loved the idea of a soak—but I also wouldn’t let Ochieng distract me. As soon as we had the elephants turned around and headed back to town, the blade dragging evenly along, I made a point of asking.
“What did that man say? You looked worried.”
Ochieng shook his head slightly. “Some disturbing news from downstream. Nothing for you to be concerned about.”
“Dasnarians?” I persisted.
He looked surprised, then sent me a reassuring smile. “Oh no! No such thing.”
I breathed out a relieved breath. Something about his smile, however, seemed off. Not quite genuine. “Then what?” I ask
ed.
Ochieng looked rueful. “It may be nothing, but word is being spread, as a precaution. The region of Chimto was hard hit by the rains. They sit near the delta of the river and the unusual amount of rain, and the fierce storms that sent so much debris downstream caused a great deal of damage. They lost many buildings, which means they’ll need wood. In addition, their fields flooded so badly that much soil washed away, and they have so much standing water that the vegetation is rotting. It will be some time before they are able to plant.”
Oh. Well, unfortunate for them, but I didn’t understand why that made Ochieng look so grave. “Isn’t that good for us?” I asked. “We can trade with them for the wood and food they need.”
Ochieng gave me a fond look. “In this you are the optimist. Perhaps it will be as you say.”
“But you don’t think so.”
He gazed into the distance, seeing something I couldn’t. “Unfortunately, Chimto is the land of my ancestors, where my great-grandfather grew up.”
I began to understand. “The place he left, for its warring ways and greed.”
“The very one. The people of Chimto are not much for trading when they run low on goods. Besides which, they resent those of us upstream, who hold no love for them either.”
“What are you saying, Ochieng?”
“It could come to nothing. Alarm over a fleeting fear.”
I knew, however, the power of fear. “What alarm is the messenger spreading?”
“That we should brace for war.”
~ 7 ~
Ochieng wasn’t as sanguine as he’d made out to me. We bladed the road on our return, yes, but a somewhat hurried effort. I thought that if he could have easily removed the blade and simply carried it back, he would have. As it was, Ochieng’s unspoken agitation affected Bimyr, causing her to get out of step with Violet, which meant the road wasn’t as perfectly graded as he normally insisted upon.
Warrior of the World Page 5
