He felt movement behind him and turned his head to focus his eyes in the darkness. It was Reiv, making his way to his own mat nearby.
“Reiv?” Dayn asked quietly. “Where have you been?”
Reiv stopped and stiffened his back. He looked in Dayn’s direction, then turned and knelt down to rearrange the wool blanket that was his bed. Plopping down onto his back, he rested his head on his arms and gazed at the stars. “I had some business to attend to,” he replied after some time.
“What sort of business?” Dayn asked.
Reiv didn’t respond and continued to stare at the sky.
Dayn sat up. “What sort of business, Reiv?” he repeated.
Reiv turned to face him. “I will be leaving in the morning.”
“Leaving?” Dayn staggered up from his blanket. “What do you mean, leaving? Where are you going?”
“I am going with Jensa to Meirla. She invited me to stay with her, and I think I should.”
Dayn took a step toward him. “You’re leaving us? Just like that?”
Reiv sat up, poised for a debate. “No, not just like that. You must understand, I do not belong here and . . .” He paused and took a deep breath. “I have no skills, Dayn. Nothing I can offer here. Anyway, Jensa—”
“Jensa!” Dayn interrupted. “What sort of skills does she offer you?”
Reiv stood and faced him. “She has offered to teach me how to hunt for shells. At least there I can earn my keep. Here I will be nothing but a burden.”
“You are going with Jensa?” Alicine asked, rising from her place. Both boys wheeled to face her.
“I think it is for the best,” Reiv said.
“But things could be different here,” she said. “You haven’t given it enough time.”
“No!” Reiv said. “I have made my decision and will not discuss it further. I leave in the morning.” He threw himself down onto his bedroll and squeezed his eyes shut.
“Fine, then, leave!” Alicine said, her anger ignited. “I don’t care. Go to your precious Jensa. I’m sure she has much more to offer. Besides, we won’t be here that much longer either.” With that she, too, threw herself upon her mat and turned her back to him.
Reiv sat back up. “What do you mean you will not be here much longer?” he asked with alarm, but Alicine ignored him. Reiv turned to Dayn. “What does she mean? You are leaving? Not back to Kirador. Not so soon.”
“I promised Alicine I would take her home. I can’t make her stay forever, Reiv. She doesn’t belong here.”
“You cannot simply walk back to Kirador. It is too dangerous. Plans would have to be made. Precautions taken.” Reiv’s voice was stern. “No. Impossible. You cannot do this.”
“We are not leaving tomorrow as you are,” Dayn said dryly. “We know plans will have to be made. But don’t worry about us, cousin. When the time is right, I’ll take my sister home. By then you’ll be a Shell Seeker and will have forgotten about us anyway.”
Dayn marched to his bedroll, threw himself down, and pulled the blanket up over his ears. No one spoke or moved for the rest of the night.
* * * *
The next morning Alicine awoke at the first hint of daylight and looked in the direction of Reiv’s bedding. Both he and it were gone.
“Dayn, wake up!” she shouted as she ran past him toward the ladder leading to the kitchen below. She nearly lost her footing as she hurried down the rungs that were damp with morning dew. The speed of her feet did not seem adequate for the urgency of her task. She jumped past the last two rungs and twirled toward the door, then stopped, breathless and flush-faced.
Reiv was leaning against the doorframe, watching the morning sun creep over the horizon. In his hands, once again covered by gloves, he held a mug of tea. His bedroll and a knapsack were on the floor by the wall. He turned to acknowledge Alicine who stared at him with her mouth agape.
“Did you think I would leave without saying goodbye?” he asked.
“No. Well, yes,” Alicine stammered. “I thought you might.” She shoved a strand of wayward hair behind her ear.
Reiv looked into the last dregs of tea that floated at the bottom of the mug. He tilted it as he studied the remaining bits of leaf. “You know, they say Nannaven can read the leaves. Maybe she could tell me my future.” He walked into the kitchen and set the mug on the table.
“I think she would say you have a very good future,” Alicine said.
Reiv shook his head. “I doubt—”
But before he could finish, a barely awake Dayn came sliding down the ladder, his face creased with the folds of the blanket he had lain upon. He hit the ground hard and his legs almost went out from under him. “What’s going on?” he sputtered, rubbing his puffy eyes in an attempt to focus them. “You’re not leaving now are you?”
“I am ready to go. As you see there was little packing for me to do.” Reiv motioned to the bedroll and knapsack. “Nannaven let me keep the bedroll and was kind enough to give me a water pouch and some food. Otherwise all I have is this.” He tugged the material of his tunic.
“Where is Nannaven?” Alicine asked.
Reiv shrugged. “She left right after I got up. Said something about letting things play out. I did not understand what she meant. But then again I rarely do. She always speaks in riddles.”
“And Jensa?” Alicine asked.
“She is with her. Said she would wait for me down the road a piece, so we could say our farewells here privately.”
“Jensa’s not even going to say goodbye to us?” Dayn exclaimed, wounded that the Shell Seeker had disregarded their friendship so easily.
“She will be back; we will both be back. Next month, at Market time,” Reiv said.
“Do you really have to go?” Alicine said. “I still don’t understand why.”
“I swear I would not if I did not have to, but you must realize this is right for me. In a day’s time you both found ways to earn your keep: Dayn, you at the smithy, and Alicine, you with the Spirit Keeper. Do you recall what I said when Nannaven asked me what skills I had?”
Neither responded.
“I said nothing, because there is nothing.” He laughed. “Oh, I know how to wield a sword. Not much use in a place where they are banned. And, yes, I am particularly gifted at ordering Jecta around, a valuable talent in a place where I have no authority.” His smile faded. “No, the only skills I have, the trade of my father and his fathers before him, are of no consequence here.”
“But you could learn something,” Alicine insisted. “Someone could teach you.”
“Teach me what? And who?” Reiv’s voice rose. “No one wants me here, Alicine. Do you not yet understand that I am not welcome.”
“But you are welcome,” Dayn said. “Nannaven cares about you, and you know Alicine and I do.”
Reiv folded his arms and looked at his feet. “Listen, I told you I would get you to Pobu. I never said I would stay.”
“But you made us think you would,” Alicine said. “It was just another one of your lies wasn’t it.”
“Fine, Alicine,” Reiv said. “I am a liar. Does that satisfy you?” He whipped around and grabbed the bedroll and knapsack, then moved hastily toward the door.
“Don’t go,” she cried. “Please. We need you.”
Reiv stopped, but did not turn to face her. “What is it you need of me?”
“We need to know why you’re really leaving.”
“I told you. There is no reason for me to stay.”
“No reason to stay? We’re not reason enough for you? You drive me mad, Reiv, I swear. First you accost us in a field and practically kill Dayn. Then you drag us into Tearia, accusing us of thievery. You have shouted at us, threatened us, called us names, but is that enough for you? No. Then you feed us, clothe us, risk your life for us, only to turn on us by deserting us. By your gods, Reiv, what is wrong with you?”
Reiv turned and looked at Alicine, a pillar of fury, then at Dayn, standing mute to the side. “Nothing,
” he said, “and everything.”
He stepped outside the door, then paused and looked over his shoulder at Dayn. “Goodbye, little cousin. I will come back to see you both soon, I promise.” Then to Alicine, “I kept the lotion you made. I hope you do not mind.” He held up the knapsack, indicating it was there.
“No,” she said, “I made it for you, to help you feel better.”
“It did make me feel better. Very much.” He blinked back the emotion in his eyes and forced a smile. “I will see you soon—at Market.” His gaze lingered on Alicine a moment longer, then he headed down the path that led from the house.
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Chapter 22: Difficult Lessons
It had been over three hours since Reiv and Jensa departed Pobu, and Reiv had expected them to be in Meirla long before this. It was not that they were not making good time; the well-trod road wound pleasantly downward through the foothills that sloped from the city to the sea. The greens of the landscape had long since changed to the dull, scruffy browns of a more salt-loving fauna, and while it gave Reiv hope they would reach their destination soon, his feelings were torn as to whether or not he actually wanted to. As he played the probable reception he would receive in Meirla over in his mind, it occurred to him that he had probably only jumped from the waters of Nannaven’s stew pot into the sacrificial fires of the mysterious Shell Seekers.
“Gods. How much further?” Reiv grumbled. “I had no idea it would take so long.”
“Are you never satisfied?” Jensa said.
“My apologies for asking.”
“If you would watch your words more carefully,” Jensa said, “you wouldn’t have to apologize so often.”
“So I have begun to realize.”
“Well, in answer to your question, it’s just over the rise there.” Jensa flashed him a look of warning. “But you’d best watch that mouth of yours, and your temper. My brother Kerrik wants nothing more than to be a warrior and will have little tolerance for the likes of you.”
Reiv felt a case of nerves take hold of his gut at the thought of what awaited him, and suddenly found it necessary to excuse himself into the shrubberies. After some time he returned, refusing to meet Jensa’s amused stare. He slung his pack over his shoulder. “Well, what are we waiting for?” he snapped. “Let us get on with it.”
They continued on in silence until they reached a rise providing a scenic view of the waters in the distance. Jensa stopped and pointed a finger toward the shoreline. There a tawny landscape merged with white sand that wrapped the teals of the shallows like a bright, rippling ribbon.
“There, you see? Almost there,” she said.
Reiv gazed out, the warm sea air whipping his hair, the saltiness of it settling on his lips. The vast ocean seemed enchanting, almost magical. He had only seen it once in his life, and that had been when he was very young. It seemed odd, even to him, that a prince whose family actually owned the sea rarely ventured to it. But most of the coastline was rocky and impenetrable, and even the accessible areas were of a violent nature, with dangerous tides and flesh-tearing rocks, and evil creatures that lurked beneath the surface. The Shell Seekers had always harvested the seas for their masters, so there was no point in the Tearians going there.
“The water is so beautiful,” Reiv said, surprised by it.
“Don’t be deceived by its beauty,” Jensa said. “It’s treacherous, but it gives us a living.”
“Where is the village?”
“There. Don’t you see it?”
Reiv squinted his eyes and scanned the mottled shoreline. At first he saw only sand and water, but then a scurry of movement caught his eye, and he realized he was looking straight at it. The beach was dotted with palms, and the roofs of the huts huddled beneath them were made from their fronds and formed into the same star-like shapes. It was only the barely detectable movement of people that revealed the place to be a living village. Reiv found himself smiling, but his elation dissipated. “Is there anything I should know before I get there? I mean, will it be the same as Pobu?”
“Does it look like Pobu?”
“Well, no, but I mean, the Shell Seekers are still—”
“Still what? Jecta? We are Jecta only to the Tearians,” Jensa said crisply. “We are Shell Seekers.”
She marched onward, and Reiv hurried after her. “Please, I did not mean to offend. I only meant do your people hate me as much as the Jecta do?”
Jensa spun to face him. “Hate you? What reason would they have to hate you?”
Reiv took a step back, startled by the acerbity of her tone.
“After all,” she continued, “it is by the generosity of your family that we are allowed to hunt in your seas, is it not? Of course, we cannot keep much for ourselves. Only that which we make from crafting the shells, and the pittance we get for bringing the best fish to Market. We could just steal them from the sea and keep it for ourselves. Who would ever know?” Jensa eyed him darkly. “Well, I’ll tell you who would know. The spies who would betray us for a bit of Tearian coin pressed into their palm! Now in answer to your original question—”
“Never mind,” Reiv said, “your point is well taken.” He said nothing more as they walked down the hill toward the village, choosing to follow several paces behind her in silence instead.
As they drew nearer, the old familiar feeling of being led to an execution returned. Curious faces turned in his and Jensa’s direction, and distant voices shouted as groups of villagers rushed from huts and various corners of the place. Reiv cringed and prayed they were all just happy to see Jensa. But he knew it was his blaring head of red that was what they were all pointing at.
He forced his eyes to Jensa’s back instead of toward the gaping faces that surrounded them, but a determined movement fast approaching diverted his attention. He sucked in his breath and felt his body go tense. Storming up the path toward them was a man with dark flashing eyes, his expression not merely that of anger, but of pure fury. The man’s hands were balled into fists at his side, and his hostility shimmered off his muscular body like heat off the sand.
“Is that Kerrik?” Reiv asked, his face blushing at the realization his voice had cracked in the asking.
“No,” Jensa replied. “That is Torin, my other brother. He does not cause near the trouble Kerrik does.”
Reiv stopped in his tracks, hesitant to take another step. But then he forced a foot forward and prepared himself for the blow to his face that was surely coming.
“Why is he here?” Torin demanded upon reaching them.
“Calm yourself, Torin,” Jensa said. “I’ll explain it to you later—in private if you don’t mind. Do you have to make a spectacle out of everything?” She continued walking, Reiv close at her heels.
Reiv avoided eye contact with anyone, though he periodically glanced over his shoulder in case someone decided to come at his head with a rock. He heard the usual comments, but they soon become predictable, and he came to feel almost unfazed by them.
A highly energetic boy came suddenly bounding toward them and leapt to Jensa’s side, grabbing her hand and tugging impatiently.
“The Prince!” the boy said. “You brought the Prince! You didn’t say you were bringing him with you. Why is he here, Jensa, huh? Why?” The boy hopped alongside her, still tugging at her hand and staring wide-eyed at Reiv. A grin of pure joy was stretched across his freckled face.
“Settle down, Kerrik,” she said. “I’ll tell you later. Let’s get home first.”
“This is Kerrik?” Reiv asked, astonished.
“Yes, I’m Kerrik!” the boy said, abandoning Jensa’s hand to walk alongside him.
“I heard you wanted to be a great warrior,” Reiv said. He looked the boy up and down. Kerrik was tiny and bore the face of a child and the foot of a cripple. Not very warrior-like material.
“Oh, I am a great warrior,” Kerrik said eagerly. “And I’m a really good spy, too. I’ve spied on you even.”
“Is that so? Why would you ever have had need to spy on me?”
“The day you were arrested. I saw you and the others. Brina sent me. She said I was the bravest warrior she ever saw. And I was brave! You were brave, too, Prince. And the girl . . . she was real brave. The other boy was kind of brave, but not as much as you and—”
“Enough, Kerrik!” Torin snapped.
“But, Torin—”
“You heard me! Now come up for some air, will you.” He shot the boy a look, daring him to say another word.
The further into the village they went, the more Reiv felt like he had stepped into another world. The huts that were almost invisible from a distance, proved to be unique and colorful up close. Decorated with shell drapes that streamed down in iridescent colors, the houses seemed to ring with melodious songs. Perhaps the people were forbidden to sing, but the shells that chanted in the breeze certainly were not.
As he turned his eyes toward the people crowding around them, Reiv noticed the Shell Seekers delighted in their own personal adornment as well as that of their homes. Their intricate tattoos were tinted in shades of the sea, and the jewelry that cascaded down their ears and necks danced to their movements like shimmering waterfalls. Their hair and eyes were of every color, and their skin would have been, too, had it not been bronzed by the sun. Everybody and everything was clean, and much care and effort had been taken in the appearance of things. The people may have been poor, but they were proud and appreciated the beauty of their surroundings.
Reiv gazed around him in awe, no longer aware of the painted faces that watched and whispered in his direction. He had even almost forgotten about Torin, whose face still wore an expression of ferocity, and Kerrik who continued to barrage him with questions and comments.
They eventually halted before a hut much like any other. Jensa pulled back the shell beads that hung in the doorway and motioned Reiv in before her. She eyed Torin and mouthed him a silent threat. He responded with dark, knitted brows and clenched teeth.
Kerrik danced around his brother and darted into the hut, tugging at Reiv’s hand as he attempted to usher him around. But Reiv jerked his hand away. It didn’t feel right being touched by a Jecta. Even one so small as Kerrik.
Souls of Aredyrah 1 - The Fire and the Light Page 28
