Exile of the Seas

by Jeffe Kennedy

  I held up two fingers.

  “Yes, I know that’s two things,” he replied with some impatience. “But they’re part of the same thing. Better, if you have to go, tell me and I’ll go with you.”

  I shook my head at that, then gave him a one-shouldered shrug. A very Dasnarian shrug, though he couldn’t know that. Still, it constituted a lapse for me. A glimpse of my hidden self. In it, I tried to convey all that I couldn’t control. If the worst happened and I had to run, I wouldn’t have time for goodbyes. And messages could be tracked, so that wouldn’t happen either, even if I learned to write in a language he could read. They might all be hurt and bewildered by my disappearance, but I would cut my throat in front of them before I’d allow Rodolf to take me again.

  I gathered up my filthy leathers and turned to go.

  “Ivariel.” Ochieng sounded frustrated, adding a curse in his language, one I recognized. He wanted to chase after me, but I’d stranded him without clothes. I’d send someone down with more for him.

  I didn’t look back. And I kept walking.

  ~ 21 ~

  Both Ochieng and I pretended the conversation by the bathing pool never happened. That is, I steadfastly ignored any references he made to it and he graciously dropped the topic each time. He didn’t bother me about the vambraces again, nor did he attempt to extract any promises from me. I wasn’t sure how a silent woman would make promises anyway, but I had no intention of implying anything.

  The days took on an easy pattern of teaching the children in the mornings and working with the elephants and Ochieng in the afternoon. I woke at dawn each day, the sun rising clear and bright, the light hitting my face. I’d dress and slip through my closed curtains to the terrace, then down the stairs to the river, to meet with the elephants. I did my prayers to Glorianna while they performed their own morning trumpeting. I sometimes fancied they prayed to an elephant goddess, maybe one who lifted the sun out of the river with Her great trunk, which seemed only right.

  Efe had begun to come to me, too, sidling over and questing with her trunk for the pieces of fruit I’d pocket for her on my way across the terrace. I never tried to climb on her back, and I think she liked me for it. If Violet was my teacher and mother figure, Efe and I were sisters, both doing our best despite our scars, and keenly aware that our best didn’t measure up.

  In the evenings, I sometimes helped with the meals—though I think I mostly got in the way and they indulged me out of tolerance—and listened to the songs and stories afterward. For all of Ochieng’s jokes about his mother saying he went on too long, Zalaika listened as rapt as anyone to his tales of the stars and of our voyage. From what I could gather, as he spoke in their language, many of the stories he made up as he went, embroidering them freely, expanding on others.

  Ayela liked to sit with me, having adopted me as a special friend, it seemed. She liked to climb on my lap while we listened, her small, adept fingers weaving chains from grasses and thence into rings of bracelets she tied on over my vambraces. After a while, I wore so many that I could likely remove the vambraces and no one would see my scars for the many bracelets, but I didn’t risk it.

  I also continued to wear my leathers, which meant I spent a great deal of time cleaning, drying and oiling them. It became a habit, some meditative time in my private space in the late afternoon, maintaining the leathers and my weapons. No one ever bothered me during my temporary vulnerability, and I enjoyed watching the shadow of the butte extend over the river until I could dress again.

  So be it, because the breezy woven fabric in the loose sheaths the women wore would show far too much of my scarred body. Ochieng might think he’d seen the worst of it, but he hadn’t, by far. When he gave me those lingering looks—when he thought I wouldn’t see, not knowing the extent of the skills of a woman of the imperial seraglio in detecting when she was watched—I pondered the rising warmth and interest in myself.

  And I thought about those other scars, the ones in my woman’s parts where Rodolf had taken particular delight in rending me. My menses flowed out as they used to, so I wasn’t corroded over down there. But I washed hastily and didn’t linger over exploring myself. I couldn’t bear to. Thus the leathers created another layer of protection, insurance to protect a necessary chastity.

  Besides, I owed it to Kaja to be ready for attack as she’d taught me. I couldn’t afford to be complacent, even in this place of peace. Ochieng and his family were much as Jenna had been, living in a sheltered nest, completely unaware of what the outside world held. Probably Kaja would chide me for staying in one place for so long. The rains would be coming soon, as Ochieng explained and the family discussed, accelerating their preparations to lay in food and reinforce the grass-sheathed roofs. Over time I began to understand more and more of what they said, the knowledge seeping into my mind with the food I ate.

  Once the rains began, the roads would be impassable. I would be stuck wherever I happened to be—and I selfishly would rather be where I was. After the rains cleared and the roads dried, I’d have to think about moving on. Surely Danu would give me a sign.

  I didn’t much like thinking about that, so I didn’t. I taught the children as I had learned, giving them ceramic beads to balance on their palms, laughing as they repeatedly dropped them, just as I had in the beginning. Ayela grew proficient with the ducerse, the most diligent of all my students, though they all stuck with it, turning up each morning without fail. When she made it through an entire dance without dropping a bead—the first to do so—I presented her with a blunted metal dagger Ochieng had helped me craft from a kitchen knife.

  Kaja would’ve wanted me to start her with a wooden dagger, but in this land of grass, wood was far too valuable for that. It had to be saved to make poles for houses, and to be traded for the things the Nyamburans couldn’t grow or make themselves.

  The elephants turned out to be key there. The day I managed to direct Violet away from the lagoon, I’d celebrated my triumph with wild excitement. I’d succeeded! After five days of mud baths, yes, but I did it.

  Ochieng congratulated me, then immediately asked where I planned to go. As I gazed at him, flummoxed by the question, he’d grinned at me. “You’ve mastered moving away from what you don’t want, Ivariel. Now, where do you want to go?”

  I’d had no answer to that. No more than I had back on the Valeria, hiding in my dark cabin. Which Ochieng had somehow intuited, curse him, because he sobered, studying my face. “If you’re only ever avoiding unpleasant consequences, you trap yourself into reacting to the world. Chart your own course, and the world will follow with you.”

  Easy for him to say, he who’d always had the world at his feet, not been the one kneeling at the foot of it. But I showed him. Before he could insist I get back up on Violet, I spun on my heel and remounted. I could do that with reasonable grace now, with barely a signal to Violet, who would kneel and spring to her feet again. She always thought about going for a dunking, but I could steer her quickly away.

  I picked locations and we went to them. Beaming at Ochieng, I showed him I could chart my own course just fine.

  “Yes,” he replied, nodding genially. “I see you going places. I don’t know what you think you’re accomplishing. Going to a place is one thing. Going for a reason is something else. But if you’re content to wander around and look at the same things over and over, so be it.”

  Some days I truly longed to give that man a piece of my mind.

  I began to pay attention to the others and their training exercises. Violet joined in eagerly enough, and we won all the relays—entirely due to her proficiency. The other riders tolerated it, congratulating us but casting quizzical glances at each other when they thought I couldn’t see. As with dinner preparation, none of the D’tiembos would deny me my slightest wish, even if it caused them difficulty.

  No princess, Kaja chided in my mind, reminding me that I tended to fall into
a pattern of expecting everyone to accommodate me. With the D’tiembos so gracious to me, their honored guest, and me unable to explain otherwise, it was up to me not to be a burden.

  The great exception to this, of course, was Ochieng. He seemed to have no problem poking at me, pointing out when I was going in circles. After we won another relay, I sent Violet to make her happy way to the lagoon, Efe almost pitifully delighted to have the big elephant join her in the mud bath. I lingered a moment, watching Violet lave Efe with trunkfuls of mud, the gesture looking almost loving. If elephants could feel love.

  Probably they understood it better than I did.

  Ochieng was nearby, working with several younger elephants, watching me without seeming to, so I strode over and planted myself in front of him.

  “Figured out that wasn’t accomplishing anything either?” he asked in a mild tone. Then held up hands, laughing, when I leveled a glare at him. “You know, it would be much easier if you could simply ask me questions. I respect your vow to your goddess, but I sometimes wonder if it’s yet another shield you hide behind.”

  I sucked in a long breath to replace the one I’d lost at that unexpected blow. What did he know of my reasons? Nothing. Abruptly furious, I turned away and headed back to the house. Without the daily dunkings, I didn’t need to spend so much time cleaning my leathers and weapons, but the time alone to reflect did me good.

  “Ivariel.” Ochieng caught up to me. “Ivariel, wait.” He put a hand on my arm to stay me and I wrenched it out of his grasp, rounding on him and folding my arms. “You’re right,” he said. “That wasn’t fair. I’m sure your reasons for keeping to all of your vows are good ones, I just…” He rubbed his hands over his head in that gesture of frustration. Laughing softly at himself, he shook his head and met my gaze. “When you’re angry, your eyes get even bluer. It’s most remarkable. If fire was blue, it would look like that.”

  My annoyance bleeding away, I simply waited. I had no response to that.

  “I know, I know. That doesn’t matter.” He studied me. “I sometimes wish I could read your thoughts, since you won’t—can’t, I mean—speak them aloud. You’re a mystery to me, Ivariel, like a strange dream. And I keep being afraid that I’ll wake one day and you’ll be gone like that dream. Vanished as if you never were.”

  I pointed at the sky and fluttered my fingers down.

  “Yes, the rains are coming and I’m glad for it, glad you’ll stay here instead of resuming your travels.” He took a breath and shook off something, like the elephants did, twitching flies off their hides. “As for your work with Violet, this is part of how I teach. I see you do it, too, with the children. You let them drop the beads until they figure out how to maintain the balance even through the difficult spins. You demonstrate, then expect them to draw their own conclusions. I think you’d do this even if you could instruct them verbally.”

  I hadn’t realized he’d watched me teaching. I’d always thought he’d been off with the elephants or attending other tasks. That he’d managed to observe me when I wasn’t aware of it put me a little off balance. As for teaching the kids, I just showed them as I’d been shown. Someone can demonstrate the steps, but the pearls themselves teach you dexterity and balance, just as Violet had taught me how to find a way to keep her out of the lagoon and….Oh.

  Holding up my palms in a Nyamburan gesture of apology, I tilted my head and smiled ruefully. The best I could do. Without speaking, that was, and I wasn’t ready to break that vow. Not yet. Maybe I did hide behind the silence, but that had been the whole point, to hide my accent and keep me safe. He didn’t know and couldn’t understand that.

  “It’s all right—no need to apologize,” he said with a smile. “I’m frustrated today, not getting anywhere with Efe.” He glanced at the young elephant, buried in mud, and ran a hand over his head again. “I should have explained to you before this. The relay games are exercises to train the younger elephants. Of course Violet wins handily. Even if she wasn’t already the best, the others would let her win because she’s the matriarch.”

  Ah. Chagrined, I rolled my eyes at myself. This I should’ve easily recognized. My mother had ruled the seraglio in much the same way—though completely devoid of Violet’s gentle nature—and no one had dared to thwart her.

  “Tomorrow, I’ll show you what we do with all of this training. Can you give the kids a free day? I’ll take you on an excursion.” He cast a considering gaze at the sky. “We’re done for the season, with the rains bound to start any day, but we should be fine to go tomorrow.”

  I followed his eyes. The sky looked the same cloudless blue as always, the sun burning with its usual intense heat. It looked no more likely to rain than it had on the day I arrived. Not that I had any expertise in such things. I had yet to experience a full rotation of the seasons in any one place. I’d never even seen summer in Dasnaria, though I knew from stories that we had seasons other than the brutal winter of my birth month and wedding.

  “It’s a feel to the air, more than anything,” Ochieng explained. “A density to it that’s different—and the breeze is more often coming from the south or the east.”

  Hmm. Maybe the air did feel thicker, though I’d always thought air was air.

  “Tomorrow?” Ochieng asked, and I nodded.

  “Good.” He grinned, looking like the kids when I showed them something new. “I’ll get the supplies ready. This will be fun.”

  ~ 22 ~

  I should’ve realized Ochieng meant only the two of us would go. He’d said as much. It was my narrow Dasnarian thinking that had me oblivious to the possibility, even now, that I might go somewhere with a man unrelated to me.

  Funny, I reflected, as I rode Violet, Ochieng on another big female, Bimyr, following behind, because I’d been alone and unchaperoned all these months. Going on this excursion alone with Ochieng shouldn’t feel… What? I tried to decide how it felt. Intimate. Also perilous in an odd way. Of course, Ochieng would never do anything to me I didn’t want—I had absolute trust in that—but I no longer knew what I wanted.

  Even what I didn’t want no longer seemed as clear.

  Ochieng called out landmarks from behind me and I concentrated on directing Violet toward them. The matriarch didn’t like to follow other elephants, and I wasn’t yet ready to ride another. We’d ridden for several hours, following the river upstream, the terrain growing hillier as we went, Violet’s swaying stride making me nostalgic for the sailing journeys.

  I’d pretty much resolved to leave after the rains ended. Even if my trail had gone cold, it would stay colder if I moved on. I’d gotten better about keeping my roots dyed dark, but I’d revealed myself in countless small ways to Ochieng. Why I’d shown him the scars on my wrists I had no idea now. I mentally thumped myself upside the head, as Kaja would have.

  We crested a hill, and the sight below took me so by surprise that Violet halted, reading my hesitation. Bimyr and Ochieng came up beside us, the two elephants twining trunks in greeting.

  “The ukket forest,” Ochieng proclaimed, sweeping a hand as if he’d grown it himself, which for all I knew, he had. “Where our wood comes from.”

  Ranging over the hills on both sides of the river, a spread of lush-leafed trees grew. Though still sparse and not terribly tall, it seemed to be a forest compared to the lone mushroom trees of the plains. The sight gave me a surprising pang of nostalgia for the woods of Dasnaria, though it looked nothing like the towering timber that densely covered the land in all directions around the Imperial Palace. Maybe because that had been the first of the outside world I’d seen. And also because it was like the forest that covered the mountains Harlan and I had fled through.

  Where was Harlan now? Back at the Imperial Palace, most likely, or hopefully escaped again. I suddenly wanted to tell Ochieng about my brother—how alike they were in their gentle natures, despite their many differences—and the words rose in
my throat.

  “What?” Ochieng asked softly, his expression arrested. But I shook my head. He smiled a little, disappointment in it, and looked out over the forest. “Let’s go see then. That grove, there.”

  I sighted the one he meant and asked Violet to go there. She went with more than her usual willingness, at a more rapid clip, her trunk waving in excitement. When we reached the grove, she paused expectantly. I looked to Ochieng, not at all sure what instruction to give her.

  “The elephants help us harvest the trees,” he explained. “We won’t do much today, but the girls will expect to do something, now that we’re here. Pick a tree and ask her to get it for you. Once she does, she gets to eat the leaves. Oh.” He flashed me a broad grin. “And hang on.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him, wanting to ask the question, but he pretended he didn’t notice. When he took that attitude, there’d be no getting anything out of him. The trees looked much bigger now that we stood beneath them, and I wasn’t sure how Violet would “harvest” it, but I picked one, and Violet, attuned to me now, strolled up to it.

  She wrapped her trunk around its girth, shaking the thing. Birds shot into the sky, squawking their protests. I watched them go, hoping they hadn’t left nestlings behind. Violet had it going at a rapidly rustling pace.

  “Don’t worry,” Ochieng called. “No baby birds right now. Wrong season.”

  Of course he’d know that.

  Violet shook the tree harder, and I began to wonder if she could simply uproot it with the strength of her trunk alone. Then she lifted a foot and set it against the base, making me clamp my thighs tighter on her neck. Hold on. She wouldn’t… But she did. She lifted the other front foot, setting it above the other. The tree leaned precariously. She walked the first foot over the second, lifting me higher in the air. I might’ve shrieked if I’d had the breath.