Exile of the Seas

by Jeffe Kennedy

  Unbending, I waved a hand at him.

  “All right. Let me steady you this time. Don’t be afraid to dig your fingers in when—what? Don’t give me that incredulous look. Nothing has changed. You’re getting up on Violet. Sulking won’t get you out of it.”

  I flung my hands up at the sky, part resignation, part supplication to Danu. But I had to admit, if only within my own silence, that the episode had dissipated my fear. I faced Violet, who waited with the patience of a small mountain, and set my foot on her knee, prepared this time for the odd slide of loose skin over bones like boulders. I took a moment to find my balance this time, palms flat against Violet’s broad flank.

  Hands settled on my waist, and I stiffened reflexively.

  “Is this all right?” Ochieng asked. “I’m not sure where your strictures on physical contact begin and end. This is the best place to steady you, but I can try something else.”

  I held still, assimilating the sensation, keenly aware of his hands on me and the brush of his fingers on my skin where the leather pants and vest parted. Steadying me so I wouldn’t fall again. Nothing more. My heart rattled a little, fear of an entirely different kind rising through me like a chill vapor. Violet nudged me with her trunk, whuffing noisily at my ear, and I freed a hand to bat her away, looking first at her wise face, then at Ochieng, regarding me gravely and without moving.

  Nodding at them both, I reached as high as I could up her shoulder.

  “Ready?” Ochieng tightened his grip. “Push off and—yes!”

  He kept me from falling backward. My leap combined with his boost had me nearly flying onto Violet’s back—and almost over the other side before I caught myself.

  I lay there a moment, draped over her wide shoulders, gathering my composure. Extraordinary to feel her great body all along my skin, vivid and alive. Her breath came and went in slow, easy expansions and deflations. The contact penetrated deep inside, giving me a sense of peace and love that I somehow recognized though I’d never experienced it before.

  This is what it should be like, it occurred to me, being close to another living being. Not like—I cut off the thought as Violet rumbled in distress, her skin twitching.

  “Ivariel?” Ochieng had that gentle, wary voice, and I knew I needed to steady myself. I sat up, wiping my face just in case, though it turned out the silent, unstoppable tears hadn’t manifested for once. “Good,” he replied, as if I’d said something. “Edge forward so your knees and toes are behind her ears. Now ask her to stand.”

  I gave him a questioning look, and he held out his hands palms up. “You’ll have to figure that one out, silent one. She’s trained to feel your knees and toes, but also your intention. Remember: keep your eyes and your focus on where you want to go. Violet doesn’t speak any language—she understands us on another level. It’s up to you to make contact with her there.”

  Wonderful. I situated myself in the soft area he described, Violet’s ears lying over my legs like a blanket. The sun beat hot on my hair and I looked for my hat, spotting it in the dust where it had fallen when I took my tumble. Ochieng followed my gaze and retrieved it, hopping onto Violet’s knee with the graceful ease of long familiarity, handing the hat up to me. He held on to it a moment when I grasped it, the hat a link between us as he gave me a steady look.

  “You can do this,” he said. “I believe. Now you must believe, too.”

  ~ 20 ~

  Ochieng jumped down again and surveyed the area, as if losing interest in us. Seeing something going on with the group doing relays, he strode off, calling something to them in their tongue. Leaving me alone with Violet.

  You can do this.

  Violet reclined under me, eyelids drowsily lowered, her trunk idly tapping in the dust. I adjusted my seat. Then adjusted again. I was ready for her to stand, but she didn’t so much as twitch. I dug in my heels a little, like I might on a horse. Violet flicked her eye up at me, curious.

  I wiggled, nudging suggestively. Reins to flap would be handy, but no. Violet found something interesting on the ground with the tip of her trunk and tucked it in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. I gestured for her to get up and she touched my hand with her trunk, sighing when she found nothing in it. Ochieng had gone over to the other corral, abandoning me entirely. That seemed irresponsible. What if Violet rolled over and crushed me? What if I fell again, but this time hurt myself?

  Violet groaned as if weary, her eyes fluttering closed.

  I tried grasping her ears, tugging at them. She flapped them, angling her head to indicate a spot that needed scratching, making a happy sound when I did. Heaving out a long breath of contentment, she seemed to fall asleep.

  Sitting there atop my snoozing elephant, I felt more than a little ridiculous.

  Ochieng’s words came back, my shame adding a mocking tone. The terrifyingly intimidating Warrior Priestess Ivariel, ever cool and silent, scourge of the oasis ruffians. Was that how people saw me? If so then I’d managed to perpetuate an even greater fraud than I’d imagined.

  Here I was, once one of the most highly ranked women in Dasnaria—as far as that went, but still—who’d once held ambitions of being empress, and I couldn’t make an elephant go. Of course, even at the height of my supposed “power,” I’d been unable to affect my own fate. I’d only managed that by fleeing, by running away from it all and becoming someone else.

  But was I someone else? On the surface, maybe. In name and appearance. In place and occupation. Still, I carried all that I’d been inside me. The memories might sleep, might be forgotten for long spells, but my past had shaped me in ways that I could no more change than the true color of my hair. Like the blond roots, my true self continued to seep out, steadily undermining the foundation of the Ivariel persona.

  Pitiful, tormented, and helplessly ignorant Jenna still lay at the root of who I was.

  I supposed I’d have to find a way to make her stronger, if she was to serve as any kind of useful foundation. She wasn’t all bad. Maybe she hadn’t been able to free herself without help, but she’d kept up. Even bleeding and hollow with terror, she’d ridden horses through blizzards. And when it came down to it, she’d made the final escape on her own, drawing on the dancer’s skills she’d painstakingly perfected.

  Perhaps Ivariel had more of Jenna in her than I’d realized. Remembering that feeling of cool decision, back at that inn when I knew I could escape, I decided to go.

  And the mountain moved beneath me. I squealed in surprise—fortunately without words—and clapped a hand over my mouth as Violet rearranged her formidable bulk to stand. Her shoulders rose higher behind me, tipping me forward to settle more snugly behind her ears.

  She began walking, a swaying motion like being on a sailing ship under clear skies but sliding up and down the waves from a distant storm. I clutched at her, reaching for purchase with my hands and finding only her ears. Violet stopped, her trunk lifting in question.

  “You don’t need your hands,” Ochieng called. I should have known he was paying more attention to us than he’d let on. “Use your legs to hold on. Lay your palms on your thighs.”

  I did as he said, and as soon as I relaxed, Violet began walking again.

  Straight for the lagoon and the other elephants.

  No! I thought at her, and she flapped her ears, waving her trunk merrily. I tried to think of other directions, unable to tear my eyes off the rapidly approaching mud wallow where Efe lay mostly buried, only her eyes and the tip of her trunk peeping out. Without hesitation—or heeding me in any way—Violet waded in. Forgetting Ochieng’s admonition, I tugged at her ears.

  She sucked up a trunkful of mud and dumped it on my head. Then she swam out to deep water, submerging entirely and blowing happy bubbles when I gave up and swam off, rather than drown.

  * * * *

  “So, what was your mistake?” Ochieng asked conversationally as we walked
back to the house.

  Letting you talk me into getting up on an elephant, I thought caustically. I carried my hat, trying to knock most of the mud off of it. Getting the rest off of me would be far more difficult, the mud trickling between my breasts, uncomfortably caught in my silk underthings, squelching between my thighs. The thoroughly soaked leather chafed, too. It would take quite a bit to get them clean. Not to mention my weapons. Kaja would be having a fit at the way I’d treated them.

  “You might consider wearing clothes like this,” Ochieng said, observing my efforts and holding out the drape of his loose-woven shirt. “Cooler, and easier to wash. Up to you, of course, but I can pretty much guarantee today won’t be the last day Violet dunks you.” He grinned at my sour look. “Yes, it’s her favorite trick. That’s part of why she’s a good teacher. If you waver at all, she takes advantage. So, what was your mistake?”

  I sighed. Pointed to my eyes and to the path ahead.

  “Exactly. You kept staring straight at where you didn’t want to go. You’ll do better tomorrow. You already did amazingly well today.”

  I lifted a dubious eyebrow.

  “You did! I thought it might take you a few days to get her to stand for you.”

  Making a snorting sound, I jabbed an accusing finger at him. He ducked it, laughing and dancing back. “I didn’t lie when I said I believe in you. I did and do. Belief has no time limit on it. You should know that.”

  I sometimes wondered at all the things Ochieng seemed to assume I knew. What story had he assembled in his head for who I was and how I’d come to be this person? He seemed to ascribe a wisdom to me that I certainly lacked. I did the same thing with Violet, looking into her clear eyes and wrinkled face, extrapolating that into some deep knowingness about the world.

  “Not that way.” Ochieng touched my arm above the vambrace briefly, snagging my attention. “Over here there are actual baths. I meant to show you last night, but then the family descended.” He made a face that somehow conveyed affection and exasperation together. “It’s not like that every night, by the way. That was special, to celebrate our arrival. In case you were worried.”

  That actually sort of disappointed me, as I’d loved the scale and pageantry of the feast—and the work songs of assembling it. But I could see that such an enormous effort would be a rare thing.

  Ochieng led me around to a different nook of the hill, pausing to call out a question. When no reply came, he continued around a spur of rocks to where an awning of bright fabric snapped in the breeze, casting shade over a wide pool that steamed. He gestured to it as if he’d magically created it just for me. “Hot springs,” he declared. “Generally we call out and reply ‘someone is here.’ But since you can’t call out—and I suspect you’d rather have complete privacy and not share even with the other women—I’ll just stand watch while you bathe. Then you can borrow my clothes when I get in, and wear them up to the house until you can get something better.”

  I smiled and touched his arm in thanks. Unexpectedly, he took my hand, holding it for a moment. “Unless you do want company?” he ventured, unusually tentative for his usually brash self.

  Taken aback, I shook my head, likely far more vigorously than I needed to, because he immediately released my hand, backing off, smiling genially but with obvious disappointment beneath. I’d hurt or insulted him. He who’d been a friend and guide to me. A man who asked for what he wanted instead of taking. Chagrined, I stepped toward him, holding out a hand, though I wasn’t sure what I’d do.

  He laughed a little and touched my cheek. “No, don’t spend a moment feeling bad about that. I’ve known the rules since our first meeting, when Captain Sullivan explained them so clearly. I just…” He made a rueful face and scrubbed his hands over his head. “I have always been the fool who wishes to cross the river that cannot be forded, as my mother is fond of saying. One day I will learn. Take your bath, Ivariel. I won’t trouble you.”

  * * * *

  He went back around the spur of rocks, and I stripped quickly, immersing myself in the hot water with a groan of delight. Mud had gotten even beneath the vambraces, and my skin had reddened from the grit. Despite the pleasure of real hot water again, I didn’t linger over it. Ochieng wouldn’t spy on me, I trusted in that, but I didn’t like to make him wait around.

  I finished rinsing, some slow current carrying the grit away beneath the lip of the rocks. I dipped the vambraces in the water, getting the worst of the muck off, before I fastened them on. Sinking deep in the water and turning to face in the direction of the path, I picked up a stone and tossed it toward Ochieng. The irony wasn’t lost on me that I’d sooner have him catch a glimpse of my naked front than the scars on my back. Rodolf had been discerning in that, at least, carefully selecting which swaths of me he left unblemished.

  Over time, however, I had no doubt he would have gotten to all of it.

  Ochieng came around the corner, gaze studiously on his feet, so I needn’t have worried. “All done then? You’re fast. Remind me not to let my sisters contaminate you with their ways. They spend hours at it. I’ll take off my clothes and set them here, so you might look away. Once I’m in the water, you can get out and dress. You’ll dry fast enough in the afternoon heat.”

  I did look away, as it seemed only courteous, though that warm curiosity of the day before pricked at me, tempting me to surreptitiously peek. I could, I felt sure, without him ever being aware. But I refrained, keeping my eyes firmly shut, waiting until he’d settled into the water.

  “All right, your turn,” he said, his voice coming from the far side of the bathing pool. I cracked my lids to find him sitting with his head tipped back on the rim, eyes closed and face turned up to the sky. The sharp edge of his jaw showed well from that angle, and the strong column of his throat made me tempted to touch, even to taste.

  How extraordinary. I had no ideas where such impulses arose from.

  I climbed out, moving quickly, just in case he had the same temptation to peek, pulling his shirt on first, then the pants. They tied on, bunching considerably around my narrow waist, even lean as he was. A subtle scent rose from them, something indefinably Ochieng, though I wouldn’t have thought I’d known how he smelled. Finished, I stood there, waiting. He still didn’t move.

  Had he fallen asleep? I wasn’t sure…but it also seemed rude just to leave, and I could hardly say goodbye. So I went over and crouched beside him, touching his shoulder. He immediately opened his eyes, surveying me.

  “You look good in Nyambura clothes,” he noted, and I smiled my thanks for the loan. I moved to rise, but his hand darted out, closing around my vambrace-covered wrist. “But these don’t go with them.” He gazed steadily into my eyes. “Why do you always wear them?”

  I didn’t have to answer. Couldn’t explain, in fact, without breaking my vow. For some reason, though, something about the quiet acceptance of the question, the real concern in his gaze, made me want to show him.

  I don’t know. Maybe being surrounded in his scent made me feel safe. Maybe secrets grow too heavy when you carry them alone for too long.

  So I sat cross-legged on the stones and began unbuckling one vambrace. Ochieng, sensing the gravity of the moment, sat up, observing with keen and somber interest.

  I set the vambrace aside and thrust out my arm, almost defiant in the gesture. It trembled some, but not as badly as it might have. Perhaps I’d absorbed some of Violet’s equanimity. Ochieng took my arm in his hands slowly, as if enfolding a bird that might fly away if he moved too quickly, and traced the ridges of scars where Rodolf’s marriage shackles had cut into me.

  “I can guess what did this, but not the how or why,” he finally said in a hushed tone. He didn’t look at me, just traced the scars that encircled my wrists as my wedding bracelets once had. A forever mark of my marriage that could never be erased, no matter how far I fled. “I would listen to the story, if yo
u could tell me.”

  At last his gaze climbed up to mine. I braced for the pity, but saw only compassion. None of Kaja’s rage or my own cold hatred. Ochieng didn’t have those things in him. “Is this why the celibacy?” he asked.

  I pondered how to reply to that. I could prevaricate, take refuge in Danu’s mantle, but that would be dishonest. So, I dipped my chin, a silent confirmation of all he suspected, and drew my arm out of his grasp. Then picked up the vambrace again.

  “You don’t have to hide them here,” Ochieng said, a line between his brows. “No one would judge you for it.”

  I shook my head and finished the buckling. I wasn’t ready for more witnesses to my shame, that pain and humiliation.

  “Those scars aren’t more than a year old,” Ochieng observed. “Will you be pursued—is that why you disguise yourself?”

  I looked at him and gave a little shrug. Let him interpret that however he liked.

  “You could stay here,” he persisted. I cocked my head. I knew that; he’d said as much before. “I mean that we would protect you, fight for you.” Now he looked fierce, a hard light in his eyes, a stubborn cast for his jaw. “Whoever did this to you would have to come through me,” he asserted.

  And I believed it, though I might not have before seeing this side of laughing, garrulous Ochieng. I imagined Rodolf facing him down, Dasnarians swarming over peaceful Nyambura, and a chill passed over me. A rime of terror, not for myself, but for these people who’d been so kind to me. They had no idea what I came from, the heinous acts my own family were capable of perpetrating. Ochieng might make Rodolf come through him—and Rodolf would, swatting him like a bothersome gnat. The safety he offered me was well-meant, but an illusion easily destroyed.

  Unable to convey my thoughts, I stood. If I could, I’d tell Ochieng that I’d sooner leave and keep running than put him and his family in danger.

  “Promise me one thing,” he said, turning to fold his leanly muscled arms on the rim of rock, gazing steadily at me. “If you feel you have to leave, you’ll tell me goodbye first. And you’ll send me messages from wherever you are, to let me know you’re all right.”