by Wagner, Raye
“You can have it, Taja,” Svîk said. “I actually had two, so don’t feel bad.”
Two green mangoes? I narrowed my eyes, debating if I should take it or take a stand against his recklessness. Pretty sure he went through the trouble for me . . . If I had any concept of navigating through romantic relationships from before my amnesia, I’d lost all those skills, and I was left with a hefty amount of awkward. My hesitation made him frown, and I rushed to fill the silence.
“You know I want you—it. I want it.” I blushed redder than acai juice—as in practically purple—and blundered on. “You found two green mangoes at the same time? You’re not going into the jungle are you?” I knew he was just as I knew he wouldn’t admit it. “You better not let the bûyî get you.”
“No,” he said, his shoulders relaxing. “I promise I’m not.” When I stopped walking and just stared at him, Svîk sighed and added, “Don’t tell anyone, but it’s from a tree I planted. I got rid of it this morning—all the way down to the roots—so don’t worry.”
“That’s a lot of work for a couple of mangoes.” Brilliant, really, but totally prohibited, although probably safer than getting lost. An uneasy twinge tugged at my heart, but I pushed the feeling of trepidation away. “Be careful. If you get caught . . .”
I didn’t bother finishing the sentence. We both knew what could happen if someone caught him intentionally planting new growth, though I doubt it would have applied to him. Me, on the other hand, I was certain Rull and the council would throw me and anyone else in Pûleêr out, just like they’d said at every community meal this week.
I shook away all my thoughts and bit into the mango. The tangy juice filled my mouth, making me pucker. I threw the skin into the growth on either side of us as I devoured the fruit. “This is definitely going to be my high today.”
Svîk’s grunt floated back to me as I munched away. His moods the last couple of days were becoming as unpredictable as the shifting weather, but I didn’t know what to say without making our dynamic even more awkward. However, to continue saying nothing was just as bad. Finally, I took a deep breath and jumped.
“I want to leave Pûleêr, and I want you to come,” I said, rushing through the words.
He stopped walking, his back tense, and he slowly turned to face me. His golden skin paled, and his neck muscles were tight with tension. “Why?”
“I decided I want answers.”
He shook his head. “You think you want answers—”
“No, Svîk. I know I want answers,” I stated. “I don’t think it will change anything, but I need to know. Otherwise . . . I’ll always wonder, and the what-ifs will pile up. I want to be free to move forward.”
He strode to me, stopping when we were toe-to-toe. “To which questions?” he demanded. “Which questions matter the most to you? And once you think you know, ask yourself why?”
I frowned with confusion because I’d never thought through why I wanted to know who I was before now—just that I would always wonder.
“Stop thinking about all the questions you have, all the what-ifs you say will threaten your future happiness—and mine. Stop thinking and answer me this one question: What is it you want most?” he whispered.
I’d spent hours thinking of this, so it was easy to answer. “I want safety and love, probably like everyone else.”
As soon as I finished speaking, an image sprung into my mind—a delusion. Ruin as a magî in the darkness of a cave . . . behind a waterfall. Our bodies were tangled in an embrace, and the steamy air was perfumed with sandalwood and ylang ylang. My heart skipped a beat, and while I couldn’t see Ruin’s face, I knew that male-magî dream-version of him would always be my ideal bondmate.
Svîk stepped toward me, breaking through my delusion. Svîk was real. Ruin was a cat, an apex predator, not a magî. Taking a slow, deep breath, Svîk brushed several strands of hair away from my face. His thumb lingered just long enough for me to notice his trembling.
“Do you ever think about us?” he asked.
I stepped back and shook my head, trying to clear the last remnants of my dream. “I’ve been too afraid, too preoccupied, too busy with other thoughts.”
“Afraid?” he whispered, his eyes darkening. “What are you afraid of?”
I swallowed and risked a bit of the truth. “I see how the female magî look at you. And we’ve only known each other for a few weeks. Are you really interested in me?”
He frowned and then asked, “What do you want me to do to prove it?” When I said nothing, he added, “What do you want? Like what characteristics are you looking for in a bondmate?”
Again, my thoughts went to Ruin, and even as I cursed him and my twisted heart, I said, “I want a hero. I want constancy, commitment, courtship—”
“That’s a lot of c-words,” he replied, his expression twisting with conflict.
“Har-har.” I stepped past him and onto the path. “You were the one who asked. Now, come on so we don’t miss all the breakfast. One green mango isn’t going to be enough for me today.”
25
The leaves brushed against our sides as we walked single file through the prolific growth pushing in on the path we’d cleared only two days ago. Svîk moved by me and used both hands to pull aleph-ear stalks up, and then he threw them back into the jungle. I ate the rest of my mango, hopping through the mud, trying to stay out of the oozing puddles of Svîk’s footprints. The bûyî was getting worse, and there was talk of the council increasing our work days again, maybe even going to every day.
“Do you think we’ll get our break tomorrow?” I asked. My plan, as it was every free day, was to clear the area around my hut and the twenty foot path to the perimeter road before bathing in the Cem with everyone else.
“No idea. Where are we working today? Did Rull announce the assignments last night, or does his new rule start tonight?” Svîk asked as he stomped onto the main road, shaking free the mud on his feet.
I joined him, frowning at the thick coat of muck on my feet. The frequency of precipitation hadn’t changed, but the duration of each bout of rain was less, making the perimeter road much more passable. The breeze picked up, and a dozen leaves filtered to the ground, their vibrant foliage a stark contrast to the rich loam.
“Yes,” I responded, jumping to dislodge the biggest clumps of mud. “You’re probably the reason he’s making the announcements both at dinner and breakfast—at least today. Unlike you, I was listening. We’re on the south—closer to the Cemik.”
His expression darkened, and his pace slowed. He balled his hands, and I knew he was thinking about the snake in the Cemik even though several weeks had passed since the incident with those females—had I seen them since?
“I hope you’re wrong,” he grumbled and kicked at the mud.
But I wasn’t. Determined to head-off a bad day, I rushed to distract him, blurting, “Rull said it’s approaching a week since the growth was cleared to the yellow line—so we have a race today: us against the jungle.” The yellow row of bromeliads would have had to be abandoned if we didn’t get there this afternoon. “I heard Velt say you’d never get that far.”
“Velt?” He narrowed his eyes, displaying his dislike for the other magî. “Okaaay,” he said, taking my bait. He rubbed his hands together and grinned with the challenge. “We’ll get there. I promise.”
This part of his personality was consistent, and it was his work ethic, and most everyone else’s, that had kept us safe. For almost a month, no one had spotted the bûyî—the longest stretch since I’d come to Yandarî.
Already, a dozen people toiled on the road. They must’ve raced through their breakfast to ensure they’d have free time this afternoon. Their backs were bent as they chopped at the growth on the right side of the perimeter. Both Svîk and I walked on the left side of the main thoroughfare, pulling up plants as we went.
I tossed the pit of the mango with the next clump of growth, adding to the rustling of plants all around. The sm
ell of mud and lush vegetation surrounded us, and I glanced up at the twisted vines hanging from the trees above. The sun must’ve peeked over the horizon because the light filtering through was getting brighter, and the top layer of the rainforest was visible through the gaps in the shorter layer of jungle. I sighed and turned my attention to the ground, reaching for the base of another plant.
We arrived in the center of Pûleêr and got in line for breakfast. Rull was still eating, so technically, we weren’t late, which was a relief. Along with the stricter rules over the last week, we’d also been dished more individual responsibility—meaning if Rull felt like anyone wasn’t pulling their weight, the council would decide their fate. At least now, everyone worked—even Rull. Completely fair.
I looked at the food and grimaced with disgust.
“I told you,” Svîk muttered from behind me. “If you want cheese, you’ve got to be one of the first ten.”
Completely not fair. Forcing a cheeky grin, I replied, “But I had a green mango.”
“Not quite as good as pîderîne,” he said with a chuckle, drawing the attention of several women.
Pîderîne was the last of my favorites still served. Dostane’s fried rice and cheese was merely a memory, and the only time I got cheese now was when I was assigned to meal duty.
Svîk and I picked through the leftovers and then filled our waterskins with coconut water. We’d missed the eggs and cheese, but there was still a small dollop of yogurt, and Svîk nudged me to take it as well as the fried rice patties. I stuck out my tongue, pretending to throw up, as he slopped taro paste onto his plate; boiled taro, reserved for babies with no taste buds, seemed an ominous omen. If I was going to eat tubers, I liked them fried or mashed or roasted. Paste meant we were scraping the bottom of the proverbial barrel—usually because someone hadn’t done their job.
Svîk and I ate while Rull announced the groups for the day, repeating that we’d be given our assignments at night from now on, and then those of us not assigned to work in the kitchen made our way to the borders of the perimeter road.
Our unit crossed the square and wove through the homes until we reached the perimeter on the southern edge of Pûleêr. For the next several hours, I heaved, raked, chopped, and dug, clearing my section of growth with Svîk working next to me.
“So what do the magî do in Yândâri?” I asked, fishing for information. Over the last week, this had become our daily game: me trying to pry information from him about the capital. I already knew they didn’t have to clear the jungle, but I figured I’d start easy and work my way up. Yesterday, I’d asked about the market, and Svîk had hissed at me to shut up.
Today, Svîk grunted but didn’t even bother to look at me.
Not to be put off by his non-answer, I waved my muddied hand shovel at him and pressed. “I’m just wondering because when I do go to visit, I want to blend in.”
He said nothing, just continued to work.
“Don’t act like that,” I continued. “You’re the most informed citizen in Pûleêr. Even Rull doesn’t know as much as you do about Yândarî. So just tell me something about the place. Do they eat fried pîderîne? What do the magî do for work? If I walked all the way to Yândarî, would anyone recognize me?”
Svîk snorted. “No one’s going to recognize you.”
His harsh tone felt like a slap, and I glared at Svîk. “Are you saying I’m not worthy of being remembered or that no one knows me?”
Because those were two very different meanings, and if it was the former, the insult felt more than a little cruel.
His lips curled, and a slow smile spread across Svîk’s face, turning fierce. “You know what? If you really want to go to Yândarî, I’ll take you.”
On the other side of me, Dostane laughed. “Don’t be quarreling, you two.”
I turned toward her and snapped my mouth shut, cutting off my retort when she started to talk.
“In Yândâri, there are dozens of different ways to work, everything from cooking to cleaning to just doing magîk. But no one there is beating back the plants. Not like us. And I’m sure the Serîk don’t even bother with fried pîderîne; it’s probably garbage to them. Yândarî is to Pûleêr like pîderîne is to taro paste.”
Ugh. Wait a minute . . . “How do you know? Have you been to Yândarî?” Taking Dostane with me might be nicer than Svîk’s mood swings—but she wouldn’t leave her daughter, Doli. For as nice as Dostane was, Doli was rude to me every time I interacted with her. Besides, Svîk was a Serîk, so I knew he could keep me safe. But what of the kümdâr? Focusing on the here-and-now, I pressed for more information. “Can you tell me about traveling there now? Do the Serîk patrol the roads all the way to the capital? Could I go to Yândarî by myself?”
Svîk shook his head and mumbled, just barely loud enough for me to decipher, “You better not.”
I was pretty sure which of the questions he was answering, but Dostane continued talking, and I kept my attention on her.
“I’ve never been, but I knew several male magî who would go regularly, back when I lived in Heza, almost a year ago. Then the Serîk came, and we found our way here.” Dostane continued working while she told me the story about how the kümdâr’s guards raided her outpost, her smile as big as if we’d been discussing the best berries for jam. I listened, my stomach churning with the horror. How could she be so blasé about that?
“The sovereign handpicks each one of his guards we were told, not only for their power but also ability, and he keeps them close.” She looked past me at Svîk and said, “I’d never heard of a Serîk leaving the kümdâr before you. It’s very brave of you.”
I grinned at her and nodded. “Svîk is brave.”
“No one is brave anymore,” someone grumbled. “That’s the problem.”
Dostane ignored the comment, but I wanted to lash out at whomever said it. Turning, I caught the glare on Svîk’s face and pivoted back toward Dostane.
“Do you miss doing magîk?” I asked. “If you were in Yândarî, you’d be able to do your magîk, right?”
“Theoretically,” Dostane said, pursing her lips. “But my magîk wouldn’t be of much use here anyway. Besides, not doing magîk is what keeps the Serîk and the kümdâr away from us. Given the options, even now, I’d rather not do magîk.”
I wanted to believe Dostane, but how was it possible to be satisfied with denying such a big part of who they were? I snorted at the parallel in my own life and shifted my attention to the fern in front of me instead of asking more questions. Even I knew when to stop . . . sometimes. I cataloged what I’d heard then tried to do as Svîk said: sort through what mattered most and why. I dug around the plant, glaring at the fronds. Ferns were worse than burned plantains.
“But if someone did have fire magîk, they could burn away all the new growth every morning, right?” a male magî named Qelp asked with a chuckle. “That’d be a nice break from this load of rot.”
Several people laughed, and I wholeheartedly agreed with him. Ferns were akin to rubbish as far as I was concerned. I understood the necessity of our work, and I wasn’t about to quit, but an end to the bûyî would be nice.
“When the Serîk come, there will be no more Pûleêr,” Svîk mumbled. “Not that this place is really worth mourning. It’s disgusting.”
Something about his words felt familiar. I darted a look at him, but he wasn’t looking at me. Had he meant for me to hear his declaration? I bit my lip. Had I even heard him right? I’d have to ask later—when it was just us. Because if he knew the Serîk were coming, shouldn’t we warn the magî here?
As the day wore on, we pushed deeper into the undercanopy, looking for the bright-yellow bromeliads. The air plants normally made great markers, but the growth seemed more dense than usual. My feet, legs, hands, arms, and tunic were all saturated with mud, and the thin fabric of the tunic clung to my sweaty back. The smell of the wet earth mingled with the sharp, clean scent of verdant growth as we hacked at the branche
s and fronds. A heavy thud was followed by two more, and someone hooted about fresh coconut. I turned to ask for a drink, and Dostane screamed.
I jerked, blinking when she wasn’t standing . . . Fetid rot. I scrambled and then thrashed as someone yanked me back away from the oily sheen on the ground. The rancid stench of rotten meat rolled through the air, and my stomach turned.
“Help me!” Dostane screamed, writhing in the muck.
The world tipped, and I froze, going slack as I stared at the undulating mud around her.
Dostane was chest deep in the bûyî. The thick sludge sucked and gulped. She flailed her arms, scrambling to find something to grab, but the only growth nearby were the shallow plants we’d been clearing, and even those were now out of reach.
“Please,” she sobbed, her panic tearing through me.
Svîk leapt past me, pausing only to shove me back toward more stable ground. He reached out to help Dostane. Her arms were now above her head, her hands flapping frantically. The bûyî quivered as he yanked, and the force of the bog almost made it seem like he was pushing her in. She opened her mouth to scream, but the bûyî oozed and contracted, rising to cover her mouth and nose. The filthy muck rippled. In one second, Dostane was gone and Svîk was waist deep in the rot of death.
Panic tore me from my stupor. My heart pounded, demanding action. I needed to save him. I stepped forward, and he waved me away.
“Get back, Taja!” he shouted. “Keep her safe and find a vine to pull me out.”
Commotion swelled around me, people yelling orders, and I heard the grating of metal biting through wood. From the corner of my eye, I saw several magî fleeing the area, but I took another step toward my friend. Suddenly, a thick vine flew by me. Someone pushed me again, and I stumbled to the side before catching my footing and moving forward, still intent on helping Svîk. Before I could get to the edge of the bûyî, strong arms encircled my waist, and one of the male magî dragged me back.
