by Andrea Ring
“You cut me,” she says, “but there’s no wound. I know you cut me.”
“I did. Then I healed you just as quickly.”
“But…how did you…it was not cold metal. You did not use a knife.”
“No,” I say. And I don’t offer any more.
She sits up slowly. “I feel lighter, like I’ve removed a pack I’ve been carrying on my shoulders.”
“The spell was a strong one. Do you know who laid it?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know anyone in the village who can do magic.”
“No one?” I ask, surprised. “Most people have some talent for it — starting a fire, or quieting a babe. Someone must strike you as more powerful than they let on.”
Nili laughs. “Starting a fire with magic? Most people can’t do that!”
“But of course they can.” She looks at me (or at a spot two paces to my left) like I’m crazy. “You’re serious?”
“Yes,” she says. “And anyone who could start a fire by pointing their finger would be run out of the village. The priests say magic is evil.”
“Evil? No, it is a skill like any other.”
“Maja,” Nili says, “do not take this the wrong way, but what in the name of all that is sacred did you speak to your Go-Betweens about? Because you don’t know the first thing about Dabani!”
“You think I don’t realize that?” I yell. “You do not know the first thing about your people, either. Your ancestors were magic users, powerful ones. They were born with it, and it is not something that goes away. It is either tended and exercised, or it is suppressed, but it is there nonetheless. Someone is tending it. Someone is tending it very well and sending it in my direction!”
I pause, chest heaving.
“Now, who have you been in contact with since Nishta died?”
Nili turns her head from me. “It is a short list.”
“Then this will be a short discussion.”
“Mother, Father, High Priest Sanji, and Larraj, an orphan boy who helps the priest.”
“What of the other priests in the order? Surely there were many at the temple when you visited.”
She shakes her head. “I am not allowed to visit the temple. It would be ill luck. Sanji and Larraj visited my home.”
I crack my knuckles and force myself not to punch something.
“Fine. Let’s eliminate your parents. Unless you think you have reason to suspect them.”
“No.”
“Then it is the priest or the boy.”
“But Maja,” she says, turning back to me, “I’ve known the priest all my life, and Larraj is but a boy of ten. The priest is sincere in his belief that magic is evil. I would swear my life on it. He seeks only to do good.”
“I met him once,” I tell her. “When he was appointed to high priest. That was thirty cycles ago, more. I would have agreed with you then, but people change. All signs point to him.”
“But…why use me to harm you?” she asks. “Have any of the other Go-Betweens tried to kill you?”
“No. Maybe they…resisted, or maybe he could not get close enough to them to place the spell, or maybe he couldn’t get them alone. Maybe the timing is simply right for whatever he has planned. I do not know.”
“I have to go back,” Nili says.
“No!” I say. “He will kill you.”
She shrugs. “Maybe. But if he wanted me dead, he wouldn’t have bothered with the spell. He wants you dead, and since I’m the only one who sees you, I’m the only one who can get close enough to do the job.”
“He could lay a new spell.”
“Only if I let him touch me,” she says.
“We don’t know that. And if he finds the spell removed, he could simply kill you and try again with the next Go-Between.”
“No, he couldn’t.”
“Of course he could.”
“No,” she says, “he cannot. I am the last unmarried girl in the village older than twelve.”
I gasp. “But then…he’s eliminated them all? How?”
“Not eliminated,” Nili says. “Relocated. You know the geography of the land?”
I nod, then remember she cannot see me. “Yes.”
“Can you see my hands?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” She spreads her hands on the stone floor, and starts to draw imaginary pictures. “The Fang Mountains are here, of course, bounding Dabani on the west and up to the north. The Swifty runs south,” and she points and draws with her finger,” from this northern pass, hugging the mountains all along the west, until it spills out into the ocean, which marks our southern boundary. East of us is the capital city of Indrapur, where the king resides. Dabani is important to the king because we are his last line of defense in a land attack.”
I scratch my head. “I appreciate the geography lesson, but I know all this. It is integral to my duty.”
Nili smiles to herself. “Much has changed. I could not assume your information is up to date.”
“Point taken,” I say. “Continue.”
“Well, because land travel is virtually impossible, except by the one northern pass through which the Swifty runs, most travel to and from other parts of the kingdom is done by boat over the ocean. Was it so in your time?”
“I am still alive,” I grumble. “My time is your time.”
“I mean before you became Protector,” she says.
“Yes, it was so. Adventurers traveled the northern pass, but nothing larger than a packhorse could be brought through. Trade and state travel went via the ocean.” I sigh. “Nili, we are going about this all backwards. If we had followed protocol and if I had taught you properly, you would know what I know. My abilities, or the spell…there’s much to share with you.”
“Maja, if we’d gone about this any other way, I’d be on my way back home now, dead, or looking for another way to kill you. This is the right way for us. If there’s something you wish to interject, do so.”
“You’re right,” I say, bowing my head. “Go on.”
“Well the, okay, the land…no, the ocean. Ocean travel has been cut off for nine moons. High Priest Sanji says—”
“That’s almost a cycle!” I say. “Why?”
“King Jagir was visited by one of the gods—”
“Which one?”
“I don’t know. Shush. And the god told him that an assassin would be arriving, this cycle, from another province. He refuses to open the ports until this cycle has passed.”
“Heavens, but that…he should have warned me. This is exactly the thing for which I was created.”
“He has tried,” Nili says. “The last four Go-Betweens have known about it. They should have told you.”
“Damn me and my protocol,” I mutter. “Thank the gods you tried to murder me.”
Nili smiles sadly and shakes her head. “Thank the gods I was too slow.”
I stare at her, into her brilliant green eye. I don’t even see the scars anymore. She’s just…Nili. Sweet, smart, feisty Nili.
She senses my stare and looks away. “This, the blocking of the ports, has created difficulty for the prince. He was to marry this cycle, his twenty-fifth, and as you know, traditionally he cannot marry anyone from his own province. Thousands of girls have traveled to meet him this cycle, but none have been able to land. The king declared that the future princess must then at least come from somewhere other than Indrapur. And that leaves—”
“Dabani,” I say.
Nili nods. “The villagers spent two moons building a dormitory for our women here,” and she points to a place vaguely northeast on her imaginary map, “on the border of Dabani and Indrapur, at the base of the northern Fangs. Every eligible girl has been there since.”
“You should be there,” I say. “You are as eligible as anyone.”
She shrugs.
“Enough,” I say quietly. “We should be getting some sleep. I’ve kept you up far too long.”
She takes the opportunity to
yawn, trying to cover it with her hand. “I’m fine,” she says.
“Sleep, Nili,” I say. “We have a lot ahead of us. There’ll be plenty of time to speak tomorrow.”
She lies back down, and I conjure a blanket over her body.
“Good night, Maja,” she says.
“Good night,” I whisper back.
I watch her eyelids grow heavy. I watch them drift closed. Her left eyelid is thin and red, almost transparent. I watch her breathing even out, her chest rise and fall gracefully, I watch her long, slender fingers clutch the edge of the blanket. Such beautiful hands. I watch her perfect right cheek, the skin smooth and unblemished except for one teardrop-shaped scar along her jawbone, as though the fire licked her there. I imagine running my tongue over the scar in imitation of the fire, but my touch would be with the heat of a different kind.
I cannot think like this. Nilaruna is my Go-Between, my only link to Dabani and my duty. And she is in danger. I must focus.
So I do not sleep; it is the only way to ensure her safety. And while I am not sleeping, I can watch. Watch over her. Watch out for her. Watch…her.
***
When I was sixteen, I met a girl.
Her parents had died from the yellow fever that had claimed a third of the kingdom’s population at the time, and when the priests of her village declared her free from illness, she traveled to Dabani to stay with her uncle.
Kerani was shy, and when I first saw her, she was milking a goat and having trouble at it. I often visited her uncle’s farm, helping him when my chores were finished, as his two sons had been taken by the fever the cycle before, and he had no others to assist him. It wasn’t a hardship. Ram was a good man. Not many men would take in an orphaned female, even if she were his sister’s daughter.
So I helped Kerani that day. She had no idea what she was doing, and even placing her hands on the goat’s udders caused her to blush. I held the goat’s head gently, keeping her from nipping at Kerani while the poor girl yanked and fumbled with the teats. Half the milk that day ended up in the dirt rather than the bucket.
Ram didn’t seem to mind. He laughed under his breath as he watched us together, and after supper, he encouraged us to go for a walk. Alone. Which was extremely unseemly.
Looking back, that was probably his plan all along — do the right thing, take Kerani in, and then make sure she was married off as soon as possible.
If I’d had my randy way, I would have bedded her that night and married her the next day. But as I said, she was shy. Kerani could barely put two words together in my presence.
It took us two moons to touch each other, and even then, it was an accident — I picked her up by the arm after she tripped on a rock. I remember the way my hand burned from the contact, as though her body were a spark and mine the tinder. A moon after that, I worked up the courage for a kiss. It was awkward and sweet, as first kisses are, but she held her body away from mine, as though afraid she might ignite.
Two moons later, she caught the fever. The next moon, she died, alone in the barn, on a bed of straw. No one could touch her or comfort her, lest they come down with the fever themselves.
Her heart stopped and mine shattered. I have not been close to another woman since.
My Go-Betweens do not count. I have always looked upon each one as a link, a duty, an object or idea rather than a person. I’ve known some of them well, for a few cycles or more, and I cared about them. But I never saw them as linked to me, the man. Only as linked to me, the Protector.
Nilaruna is different, and I knew it when she said her name. The light of dawn. I had not seen the light for three hundred cycles, not until she walked into my cave.
And why her? She’s not…but she is. And why now? What are the gods trying to tell me?
***
Nili wakes and stretches and yawns. Her poor mouth droops even more than usual, from sleepiness, I guess, and it gives her a petulant look. But when she hears me stirring in my corner, her forced pout turns into a smile.
“You’re awake,” she says.
“I am.”
“Did you sleep well?”
“Mmmm,” I hedge. “You?”
She stretches again and grins. “Yes, thank you. I think it’s the dark. Even though I know you can see me, it doesn’t seem real because I can’t see you. It’s liberating to be in the dark.”
“Yes, I know what you mean,” I say, thinking of how grateful I am that she can’t see me.
“Are you deformed?” she blurts out.
“I…I’m not…no,” I say, smoothly. Ha.
“Then why can’t I see you?” she asks.
“Nilaruna, we’ve been over this.”
“It’s Nili. And no, we haven’t been over it, we’ve just lightly touched upon it.”
“I’m not having this,” discussion, I almost say, but awareness tingles over my skin, and I freeze.
“Intruder,” I whisper, and Nili jumps to her feet, her body turning towards the mouth of the cave.
“Where?” she whispers back.
“Swifty. Just crossed it. Wait.” I slip into the intruder’s head.
She’s not here, not here, no need to panic. Of course her duties could have kept her, but no Go-Between has spent longer than four hours here in cycles. She’s fine, she must be fine, dear gods, please let her be fine!
“It’s your father,” I say, blowing out a breath in relief.
“My father?” Nili turns to me. “No, it couldn’t be.”
“He’s worried about you. He expected you back ages ago.”
Nili shakes her head. “No, my father doesn’t care. He wouldn’t come for me.”
“He does,” I say. “He is.”
“But he’s not allowed! Is he in danger?”
“Nili, calm down. He’s in no danger. I will let him pass. But he cannot enter the cave.”
“I will meet him, then. Explain.”
“No!” I say. “No contact. Remember what happened to the other girls. Their loved ones turned on them.”
She takes two steps toward the entrance then stops. “He doesn’t love me, but I do not believe he would harm me.”
“Perhaps not of his own free will, but he might be bespelled. I will not risk you.”
Nili sighs. “What, then?”
“I will meet him.”
“You? But you can’t leave.”
“I can leave my cave whenever I like. It is my territory I cannot leave.”
“But can’t you just talk to him, in his head?”
“No. I can read his thoughts, but he can’t hear mine. I can only do that with females. Stay here.”
I edge around her and the pallet and head out of the cave.
When I am well down the slope, but before sunlight reaches my eyes, I change into an imposing man of some fifty cycles. It is the form I use when I meet new priests, or whenever someone wanders into my territory.
“Hello!” I yell down the path.
I hear a weak cough, a clearing of the throat. “Great Maja, Protector of Dabani, I come in peace!”
“Show yourself,” I shout.
It takes a bit of time for Nili’s father to show. He’s huffing and puffing by the time he rounds the last bend and comes into sight.
“Maja,” he says, and he bows his head and goes down on one knee.
“Stand, loyal villager,” I say. “No harm will come to you. I know why you are here.”
Ravi Nandal slowly climbs to his feet, head still bowed. “Yes, Maja.”
“Nilaruna is safe. You may go.”
“Pardon me, great one, but…is she well?”
“Of course. That is all.”
Ravi doesn’t move.
“You may go,” I repeat.
“Pardon me again, most gracious sir, but…will she be long?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Her duty requires that she stay with me indefinitely.”
“How long will that be?”
“Indefinitely means I cannot give
you a definite time.”
He swallows hard. “Is Dabani in danger then?”
“No,” I say, “but you are aware of the fate of the previous Go-Betweens?”
Ravi nods anxiously.
“Then you know I must do everything in my power to prevent the same fate for Nilaruna.”
“I thank you for that most sincerely, Maja,” he says. “But something has come up that may forestall her duties.”
“I can think of nothing that may forestall her duties,” I say.
“Yes, great Protector,” Ravi says, bobbing his head at me like a squirrel on a tree. “But two things may forestall it — family hardship and marriage.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Is something wrong with you or your wife?”
“No, no,” he says. “All’s well with her and me. It is marriage I speak of.”
“Marriage?” I say. “But Nilaruna’s had no suitors, no interest at all, according to her.”
“That’s correct, sir. But circumstances have changed. There is one who has asked for her hand.”
“Who?” I ask, even though I probably won’t recognize the name.
“His name is Larraj, great one. He is an apprentice at the temple.”
“Larraj?” I laugh. “But he’s just a boy!”
Ravi grimaces, but then he straightens his spine and looks me in the eye.
“Yes, but he will grow. Ten is a marriageable age.”
“If the woman is ten as well,” I say, not even realizing my voice has risen to shouting levels. Ravi cringes from me. “Your daughter is two and twenty!”
“It is an offer,” he says with a shrug.
I cannot gainsay his decision, even if I want to more than I want to take my next breath.
“There is no one to replace her at the moment,” I say. “Surely you are aware of this. The marriage can wait until a replacement is available.”
“It cannot wait,” Ravi says, wringing his hands. “The offer — ”
“Will wait. I will send Nilaruna home within a fortnight, and we will discuss it then. You will return home.”
Ravi glares at me, all deference gone. I tense, waiting for him to lunge at me, waiting for the potential trap to be sprung.
But the glare passes. Ravi frowns and bows his head. “As you will.” And he turns around and walks away, disappearing around the bend.
