There was no sense in Ratho being attacked. Why did Thae have to die and her body experience desecration?
My boot stubs a rock; I stumble, and graze my palm on the mesa. I pat the scrape on my poncho and blow the heat from my hand. “Why would a creator allow Sleene to disrespect a creature’s lifeblood?”
Mirko rumbles at my impertinence.
I trudge on but eventually break our brooding silence. “Mirko, what if there really is no god?”
His intense hiss startles me. I sweep my forehead with my arm and turn the corner to the Common.
I wake again in our empty sleeping nook. After the climb out of the canyon and a long sit in a Steam Pocket, Mirko and I fell onto our shelf just before dawn. I thought to only close my eyes a moment and then join the Carterea for morning meal and drills, ready to face my upcoming consequence, but we slept through everything. Why are we left alone?
Oh, my muscles have shrunk! I stretch and groan through the tight pain. Beneath the fresh bandage my ankle is less red, and the stitches have held. At least the cut is not festering.
Mirko rouses and yawns. My wish is to hide here forever and never face Sleene or Ratho’s possible confession. The weight of future ill presses hard on my breastbone. If only my friend will show mercy.
I squeeze my amulet and notice blood soaking through the red leather. There is even an odor. Certainly it is decay, since I wasn’t able to dry the heart first. Well, a little odor and oozing is worth the gain. None will likely notice.
I roll up and push all thoughts aside. After readying myself, I jog out to the Common. This morn, I do not even bother to pray, and I sense no retribution.
There’s not a Madronian near to instruct me, so I take my time at the spring. I hurl a handful of water into the face of the Four-Winged Condor before going to the latrine.
Mirko scavenges beetles for himself and cactus fruit for me. Returning, I drain my water sack and refill it. After replacing my boots at the Clothiers, assuring the woman that I’m fine and accepting her condolences for Thae and Ratho, I wander back into the Commons to decide what to do next. The way everyone is leaving me alone makes no sense. I’m skittish as a desert hummingbird, darting back and forth, up and down.
“There you are.” Govern Madgea strides to me. I stand straight and salute, trying to believe I am ready for the ultimate consequences of my previously unsuppressed femininity. My only defense is that I’ve corrected the weakness. Maybe my effort will arouse this woman’s sympathy.
The muscles in my legs seize. If I have the chance, I will beg to live for Mirko’s sake. He sits up and covers the last beetle with his foot.
“There, there,” the govern tsks at my salute. “No need to be formal. I’m only seeking you to let you know your friend has regained his presence.”
Mirko trumpets. My smile stretches wide, and then the joy is snuffed and my centerself quakes. “And, and what are his concerns?”
“The usual.” She pulls me to have a seat beside her on the edge of the spring. “He worries if he has failed. If you, his brother, are disappointed in him. If his family will receive him. And last night he was in a fit over whether Thae’s body would be returned. He had quite a spell that truly unnerved me, but he came through it.”
“Well, she was returned!” I exclaim.
She glances at me. “Yes. According to the boys’ chatter, the ceremony went well.” She pats my leg. “But I’m sure my brother is happy to be back in the village today. He dislikes the open desert so much.”
I nod and sip from my water sack to wet my cracked throat. Is Sleene still unconscious in the canyon? Or does he sit in the Monast wondering what happened? Did he see Mirko when he raised his head? Or were his eyes clouded or filled with blood? Will he return here full of suspicions?
Govern Madgea cuts through my raging questions. “He did look quite green when he left this morning. But in full character, he refused any medicinals.”
So he recovered! I gulp another swallow of water. He left and does not seek me. He must not have seen Mirko.
What Govern Madgea said of Ratho finds meaning in my head. He called me his brother. His brother!
I sputter water, and the govern pats my back. He has kept my secret! Ratho cares for me at some level. Tears fill my eyes, and joy and relief plunge through my body.
“Are you all right?” she asks.
“Yes,” I answer, sputtering to control my glee. “Yes, I am!”
Her hand pauses on my back before pointing at my ankle.
“Oh, it’s healing well. Thank you, again. I checked it this morning.” I slip off my boot. She kneels before me and carefully unwinds the bandage.
“Well, this is good. I thought I smelled infection.”
I cover my leeching amulet with my pack.
“So, yes, very good. Or as good as can be expected.” Wrapping it again, she goes on to chat about the weather, the breakfast Cook offered, and my new station.
I interject. “Govern, why haven’t I been instructed about my new work?”
“Oh, it’s foolery.” She shakes her head. The rings pinched to her earlobes tinkle. “They think you cursed, Tiadone.”
“What?”
She stands and places her fingers on my shoulder. “It’s lunacy, to be sure. But they wait to see if your Singer will join Thae in grief or disaster.”
Mirko rises to his toes and flaps a great gust that raises dust over our feet.
“I said it was craziness.” The govern laughs and pats the debris from her robes. “Mirko is obviously well. I believe you’ll receive orders any moment.”
I nod and get to my feet.
“Well then. Govern Droslump should be prowling over soon.” My eyes widen at her disrespect. “Oh, pishah,” she blows out. “He was a bully in school and still is one. I see more students in the infirmary due to his hand than accidents on patrol. Although he’s careful enough with his discipline to be able to keep his report to my brother positive.”
What she speaks rings true; he inflicts just enough to damage without completely incapacitating patrollers. Like what he did to my tongue.
She continues. “But I bet you didn’t know the harsh fellow has a fondness for puffed desert mice.”
“He eats them?”
“No!” She giggles. “He keeps them as pets. He has a cage in his quarters and cares for several at once. I hear him crooning to the little rodents every now and then.” Now we are laughing together. “Don’t you pass that on!” Madgea says.
“It’s a secret,” I agree. Droslump’s so brutal that the thought of his caring for mice is bizarre. As strange as his prayers for Ratho and Thae. But then maybe those were only for his self interest, as Madgea’s hinted. He wants to keep a reputation of success at the mesa. No boys or rapion lost, no Triumvirate dangers slipping by him. I wonder what penalty he received for the goats lost to the cat before. Or if now he’ll be charged with Thae’s death in some way?
“Anyway,” Madgea says, “for today, we can rest, as this horrific incident seems to be behind us. May another not occur for a decade.”
The saying tickles my mind. Is that a R’tan injunction? “Thank you, Healing Govern.”
She smiles and turns. “There’s our great Govern Droslump now with your gear for Lookout.” She faces me and moves her hands in the pattern for good health and safety. I return the broad gesture to her.
“Oh.” She grips my arm. “I almost forgot Ratho’s message.” She tuts and releases me. “Early this morning he begged me to send you thanks for returning Thae to the soil.” My centerself plummets. She continues. “Rathos’s still not completely lucid. I’m sure he meant thanks for returning them both to the mesa so Thae’s body could be honored.”
“Of course.” Ratho saw what we did, as I saw him in that moment!
Madgea pats my cheek then hurriedly circles the spring and avoids Droslump.
“Patroller,” he calls.
I assume the position of lower rank: feet widely planted,
open palms by my hips. Mirko lowers his head in deference. I have to push aside the thought of puffed mice so as not to laugh.
Droslump halts in front of us and drops a parcel at my feet. “By your failure you have lost your partner.” I’m surprised the sand is not red from the anger gushing off of me. All temptation to even grin is gone. “You will report to Lookout and assist in relay.” I knock my fist to my chest to show acceptance. He turns without acknowledgment. “Bewitched Singer,” he mutters.
I grip Mirko’s crawling neck feathers. We remain motionless until the govern disappears into the Eating Cavern.
“Fool!” I growl. Mirko crunches the beetle in his talons and gulps it down.
I push my twists back from my face. “Let’s forget him, Mirko. Sleene is gone, and Ratho called me his brother.” I splash my hand through the spring. Mirko bugles and flaps through the spray.
CHAPTER 58
LOOKOUT
The hike to Lookout is not so endless this time. My stomach is full, my feet are toughened, and I’m careful not to bang my toes against the mesa. Because of the distance and my ankle, I pace myself.
Droslump’s extra parcel is awkward, but inside we found extra water skins, which we filled and laced onto my pack. I carry more but know how and where this trail will end. The handholds and occasional stair are expected. The main difficulty today is the ache still in my limbs from returning Ratho and then from tracking Sleene. His filthy name burbles my gut.
Mirko returns above me. “Is Sleene truly gone?”
He bobs his head.
“Good. The incineration’s a mystery then, an intervention of the Four-Winged Condor.” I wink, and Mirko chirps. “And if he does wonder if another took part, the shame will keep him from inquiry. I can’t imagine the other Madronian priests supporting his vileness.”
Mirko whistles for me to keep climbing.
Finally, we reach the mesa top and cross to the wooden platform. Mirko leans close to support my weak legs.
At the rotunda, I squat to gather my breath and still my nerves before knocking at the door. It bangs open, pushing me off my haunches. I tumble backward and nearly fall to the Common below, stopped only by Mirko, who snatches my sleeve with his talons and rights me. My chest thuds as pebbles clink down the stone face and then silence in their great drop.
“Nearly got you!” The lookout’s wheezy breath whistles in his teeth. The jaundiced skin puckers below his cheekbones with each inhale. It is the same man I saw before.
I scramble to my feet and jump away from the cliff’s edge. With crown feathers bristled, Mirko chitters anxiety.
The lookout rolls his head dramatically on his stick neck. His eyes are enlarged today by thick goggles perched on his bony nose. “That Singer again,” he snarls. I lower my hand to Mirko’s head.
The lookout moves his lips wordlessly. His eyes slide across my amulet, and his nose wrinkles. He snaps his focus back up to my face. “Your position is there, at the back of the rotunda. Erect your camp and await notification of flame necessity. A wait and a wait and a wait!” His laughter turns into coughing. He wipes his mouth on the back of his spotted hand. “That is all you will do the majority of time! Wait!” The door slams shut behind him. “Six days and then one day below,” his muffled voice carries through the black door.
Sand grits beneath my shifting feet. I follow the rotunda wall to the backside and see a small space for me to make camp on the platform. Despite my jumpy nerves, I drag my supplies to set up. Can the waiting be so bad? Mirko shadows me.
Yes, the waiting is tedious. Monotony drains, and the heat zaps. Mirko and I dip into the slow rhythm of Lookout. We eat the dry wafers that are our only ration and sip water to pass the time.
What would it be like to have books as Govern Madgea does? R’tan works that were not burned, and books from other lands? I imagine time would run quickly with such stories, while I could gain strength from the knowledge. No wonder the Madronians pretended to destroy all of our books and yet kept a collection for themselves. Anger heats in my belly like the sun heats black rock.
I do not see the lookout again until the dawn of the fifth day. He bangs out of his chamber and announces, “Your partner has departed!”
In front of my shocked face, he dances gleefully around the platform. His rheumy joints allow a hobbled jig. Mirko hisses at his lunacy, but I only keep my head down as he sings, “You failed him! He failed his rapion!”
Who cares what this fool thinks? Sleene already spewed this idiocy. It changes nothing, and I know the truth.
My only care is that Ratho is leaving the mesa. Thankfully, my heart only lurches to lose my friend, not my lover. Abiding the stench of the decaying cat heart was worth the power. Now the odor is gone, and the bag is smaller. It just would have been nice to show Ratho and assure him of my declared state.
Without my visible anger to play against, the lookout mutters a curse. He goes to close my wafer bin, and that is when I realize he’s hard of hearing.
“I’ll get it,” I say. Oblivious, he fiddles with the lid.
I grin at Mirko. “I’d say we have our privacy.” My rapion chirps, and the man doesn’t hear a thing.
“There.” The lookout wheezes after successfully shutting it. “Keep it closed, fool.” He scowls and hobbles back inside.
It’s a relief to know we are truly secluded on the platform. However, the revelation pales as I refocus on the fact that Ratho has left.
My disappointment oozes up. I am a fool. Why did I expect I’d have the chance to say goodbye to Ratho? An opportunity to ease his mind? To say I do love him again as a brother. Only. And that I’ll miss my partner greatly.
Now he is gone. I curl around the loneliness like a snail sucking back into its shell. The fact that I will see him once I return to the village does not comfort me. How many walls might he build before I can connect with him? Plus, it is so far away and only brings Severation to mind.
Below our thin linen awning, Mirko and I mourn on the platform and watch the shadows and light play over the riddled mesa top.
Finally, the long day passes. The sun melts and an orange moon rises. In lazy circles, Mirko flies against the darkening sky. I toss my hair twists out of my face and scuff my sandals over the wood.
Wait. Was that a call?
Mirko dives to the right and flies below the side of the mesa. He’s gone moments and then bursts straight up into the air. He twirls and sings and skids to a stop beside my hunched shoulders.
“What is it?” He pulls my tunic in his beak. “What?” I ask, fear and excitement whirling through me.
Mirko nips my backside. I jump to my feet, and he drives me toward the trail. “What are you doing?” I say. “I can’t leave yet! We have another day before return.”
He butts his head against me. “Mirko!”
My rapion wings the direction he obviously wants me to go and returns to the platform behind me. “So you want me to go down, and you will wait here?” I whisper. “What if the lookout appears?”
He raises his eyeridge. True. It’s not likely. And he hears almost nothing.
“Fine!” I squirm down the holds and maneuver to the carved cup to appease him. I spin around. “Ratho!”
He stands waiting for me. His dark eyes reflect the light of the lichen in his hand, and his brows slope upward in anticipation. My feet are heavy stone like the mesa.
Ratho steps to me. His boots nudge against the tips of my sandals. As I peer down he drops the lichen, and with two fingers lifts my chin.
I lower my eyes in submission. “Ratho, my friend,” I stammer. “I am so sorry. I can assure you now, my affection is that of a brother. My amulet is renewed and — ”
He lifts my face. Our breath mixes in the slender space until he presses through it, and his lips touch mine, softly then fiercely. My mouth parts, and I kiss him fully. Not like a brother.
“Tia,” he whispers.
CHAPTER 59
ALWAYS LOVED
&nb
sp; Sitting close, Ratho holds me tenderly. He assures me his wounds are healing, even shows them to me, then pulls me close while shoving my amulet out of my hands.
“You’ve told me of your empowered amulet, Tia, of your renewed declaration, but can you still deny our attraction?”
I hide my face against his chest, which somehow still smells of lavender.
“You freed it in me in the infirmary. After you left, I knew of my love, how I had suppressed it for so long. No amulet is going to stop this. Stop who you are.” He leans forward and kisses me. “I am not a brother to you.”
“Why?” I whisper. “Why would you risk everything and come to me, Ratho?” He strokes my arm. “Why draw up my femininity?”
He places his finger over my lips. “You are my life friend, Tia. My partner. The one who saved Thae.” His lips brush my smile, and I return his kiss. “It’s you I have always loved without even realizing it. Even when I was frightened by Mirko, I loved you.”
“Even when you dreamt of Jenae?” I tease.
He blushes. “Now I will dream of you.”
“But the Madronians — ”
“The Madronians need never know. The Madronians who would defile Thae? They deserve nothing from me. I question everything from them now.”
He caresseses my twists, and I lay my head back again, still in shock that our love is stronger than my amulet. And that he returns my affection.
Next, he whispers his fears of return. I promise that he will do well. His arms tighten around my waist, and I stroke his cheek.
Together we mourn Thae. I kiss his tears and praise her sacrifice. Neither of us mentions further the abomination Sleene performed.
“And what of us now, Tia?” he asks me, and brushes my hair from my brow.
I turn and straddle his lap. He intakes a sharp breath. “What, I ask?” A sly smile sneaks onto my face. “This is no different than the millions of times I pinned you in play.”
He laces his fingers below my backside and tugs me closer. “This is much different,” he claims with a husky voice.
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