Altaica

by Tracy M. Joyce

  ‘How do you suppose she got covered in that?’ Lucia said.

  ‘Let’s just get it off her,’ Nicanor replied. Curro pushed forward, ignoring Elena’s restraining hand. Together he and Nicanor carefully folded the blanket inward and lifted it off Isaura.

  ‘Throw it overboard,’ Lucia said with revulsion. She examined her skin and clothing. ‘I can’t see any more on her. Isa?’ She grabbed Isaura’s shoulders, shaking her. ‘Isa, Isa! Come on, wake up!’

  Groggily Isaura opened her eyes, squinting in the bright sunlight. ‘Uh, wha … what is it?’ Her speech was slurred.

  ‘Oh thank goodness! Isa, how do you feel?’

  ‘Tired, like six shades of shi—’ She looked at the crowd surrounding her. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Isa, we were so worried. You were covered … that is … your blanket was covered in purple powder.’ Lucia whispered, ‘Love’s lament.’

  Abruptly Isaura sat upright. ‘What!’ She peered at her hands, her torso, her legs, looking for any trace of the deadly powder. ‘How?’ Isaura looked frantically for her satchel. It had not been moved from its place beside her, but she noticed the clasp was undone. ‘Someone took it out of my bag. Why?’

  ‘Why indeed?’ Elena’s caustic remark carried like a tolling bell.

  Lucia looked anxiously at Nicanor. ‘Why would someone do this? Who would want to harm you?’

  Lucia didn’t think Isaura could look worse, but suddenly she did. She scrambled up frantically, lurched to the railing and began dry-retching over the side. Nicanor and Lucia caught her as she began to sag and eased her down. She leaned back into their arms, sweating profusely. ‘Isa?’

  ‘I’m fine, just tired, so tired … can’t even think straight.’

  As they held her, with Pio anxiously by their sides, Curro approached the gap in the railing near them to lower a bucket into the ocean. ‘We’ll set things to right, Isa. We’ll wash any powder over the side so it’s all gone. Don’t think about it.’ As he slowly hauled up the bucket, he noticed that more purple powder was visible at the edge of the deck. In a hushed voice he said to Nicanor, ‘There’s more here and a faint streak on the hull.’

  With the deck cleaned, Isaura was settled on her pallet. Pio went to where Hugo usually slept, grabbed the bedding, took it back to Isaura, and covered her. Pio sat beside her, his arms hugging his legs, and kept vigil as she fell asleep again.

  Lucia touched Pio gently on the shoulder. ‘That’s very kind of you, but you’ll need that blanket later.’

  ‘It’s not mine. It’s Hugo’s. He won’t need it—he’s gone.’

  The silence that followed this declaration was punctuated only by Elena’s outburst. ‘He tried to kill his own daughter!’

  * * *

  ‘No land, no food, no water! We pray every day. Still the gods do not answer.’

  ‘Not all of us pray. She doesn’t.’

  ‘The boy said she doesn’t believe.’

  ‘Thinks the gods are “a load of old dog’s bollocks” were Pio’s words.’

  ‘Children don’t lie.’

  ‘She offends the gods.’

  ‘Her father knew best what to do with her.’

  ‘She has lived among us all her life. She has helped us, cared for us. At the pier she …’

  ‘Yes, at the pier she saved us.’

  ‘How did she learn to shoot like that?’

  ‘Hunting.’

  ‘Hunting? Pah! You’ve been hunting for your family for years. Can you shoot like that?’

  ‘But did you see her face?’

  ‘She enjoyed the killing.’

  ‘Then there’s that poor wee girl … murder.’

  ‘I tell you, her father knew best.’

  * * *

  Isaura woke in the night with Pio snuggled beside her. Carefully, she sat up without disturbing him. She moved gingerly to her hands and knees and used her stick to manoeuvre herself upright. A wave of dizziness washed over her. Sweating, she leaned back against the cabin while her head cleared. The chill night air raised goosebumps over her dampened skin.

  She hobbled over to the gap in the railing where, fatigued by the short distance, she lowered herself down and dangled her feet over the side. The water gently rippling along the hull lulled her again as she rested her head against the rail. She’d always known Hugo was eccentric, but she’d never realised the extent of his problems. All the strategies her mother had for ‘handling’ him made sense now—she’d known how damaged he was. Her mother had never pushed him, yet Isaura knew she had the moment she brought him on this boat. Did I drive him over the edge? Thoughts tumbled around in her mind, but one always returned to the fore: Was he really trying to poison me? Did he just spill it? Had Hugo found out about Gabriela’s parents and the others? He can’t have known—no one did.

  Staring at the huddled, sleeping forms of her friends who now surrounded her, Isaura thought back to when Nicanor had first broached his plan with her. When he’d told her, she’d jumped at it. She had an answer for every doubt and problem raised—she made it happen. She pushed them, just like she pushed Hugo. She questioned her real motivation—love or simply because she wanted to run away. Thankfully her friends didn’t see things that way, because here they were, a bulwark of loyalty in a sea of treachery. Without them she feared Hugo would be right and if the truth about those they left behind were known, she’d be dead. Sorrow and regret sat poised, waiting for her to capitulate. She could agonise over the past, worry about whether her secret was safe, but not now.

  It was so much easier to just follow the sounds, escape into the lullaby of the rippling water travelling the length of the hull. Isaura tried to focus on one ripple and follow it along the hull. Visualising it tickling the worn timber as it passed, she pursued it as it merged with larger currents and began to crest away in the distance. All too easily she slipped blissfully into her dreams.

  A bird screeched, drawing her attention upward. Funny, she thought, we haven’t seen any birds in an age. She strained to catch sight of it again, but it vanished into the sun.

  ‘Isa … Isa, wake up.’ Shielding her eyes with her hand and blinking hard, she could make out Pio’s face staring intently at her. ‘Why does everyone keep waking me up?’

  ‘Because you are always asleep!’ Pio groused. ‘Besides, it’s too hot here. Let’s go back to your spot—and you could have fallen overboard!’

  ‘Oh!’ Isaura was startled. ‘I must have been here all night.’

  ‘I don’t know, but you wouldn’t wake up—again!’

  ‘Everyone is sleeping a lot, Pio.’

  ‘Not like you.’

  She frowned as he went back to his parents, obviously cross with her. She lay on her back, staring at the sky, her feet still dangled over the side of the boat. Her eyes began to close again. Pio is right, time to move.

  * * *

  A howling gale buffeted the barge, causing it to bob and lurch erratically as a massive storm skirted around them. Each lurch brought with it groaning sounds. Anything that could hold water was on deck, held upright, ready to catch any rain. The villagers prayed. Curro beseeched his ancestors to intervene with the gods to help them. Finally the rain came as a deluge that lasted only minutes, but put inches of water in each container. A girl quickly grabbed a mug and began drinking greedily from it. Others began to follow suit.

  Curro pleaded with them. ‘We have to make this last. We’re all thirsty—just drink a little.’

  Villagers pushed the girl away in the rush to get to the water. She was sitting on the deck smiling, then she grabbed her stomach, groaned and vomited the water she had just consumed.

  ‘See!’ roared Curro. ‘Drink only a little, or you’ll be ill. We must ration it.’

  The villagers were beyond reason. Daniel, Jaime and Nicanor hastily grabbed as many of the containers as they could and began tipping the rainwater into one barrel.

  Lucia watched horrified, with Pio clutched to her, as the others
pushed and shoved to get to the water. In the ensuing chaos, containers were knocked over and people tried to sop up water from the decks with their clothes. They sucked at the wet fabric, desperate for a taste of fresh water, only to scowl as the little they got was tainted by the salty grime on their clothes. Many sat on the deck, returning from frenzied joy to complete despair.

  Curro’s gut clenched as he watched their expressions of frustration, sadness, or vacant defeat. Gazes slowly turned toward Curro and his friends, who were armed and guarding the saved water.

  ‘This water will be rationed to all. Starting with those who didn’t just behave like animals. Anyone, and I do mean anyone, who tries to interfere will suffer for it.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  UMNIGA WAS OLD. Her long grey hair was braided back and her green eyes did not see as well as they used to. Her leathery, olive skin was creased with many wrinkles and deep crow’s feet puckered the edges of her eyes. Despite this, when she smiled her aged appearance seemed to vanish. When she chose, her voice could remind listeners of some favoured friend, guaranteeing her an audience. Some days her bones ached and it took all her effort to rise. At these times her apprentice, Asha, would wordlessly place willow bark tea in her hand, ensure the room was warm and leave her be.

  When her rheumatism was at its worst and she was unable to sleep, it was a joy to link with Devi, her guardian sent by Rana. Devi was a large barking owl. He had been with her since puberty, yet didn’t seem to suffer the effects of age. Umniga could, almost effortlessly, merge her own consciousness with his, seeing the world through his eyes and experiencing the joy and speed of his flight. She could use Devi to communicate over great distances with the other Kenati: the priests and priestesses of Rana and Jalal, the keepers of Lore amongst the clans of Altaica. More often, like tonight, she merely wanted to escape her age and just take flight with Devi.

  Lying down on her soft bed, she looked at Devi sitting in the open window. He rotated his large flat face toward her. Reaching out with her mind, she felt the instant recognition, welcome and connection. Her eyes changed shape, their size and colour mirroring those of Devi. Now she could see the world properly. The nightscape was no longer hidden to her. Even the smallest details stood out with a clarity that never ceased to amaze her.

  Devi hopped off the window and took flight over the surrounding countryside. In the southeast they saw the town of Faros. Devi’s mind flitted to thoughts of fat pigeons on rooftops and rats around the granary. Not yet, she instructed. Later. Umniga had no real desire to go to Faros, for she knew what she would find. It disappointed her that her clan had fallen so low and forgotten, or did not care for, the ancient ways. She felt little pride in her people when she saw Faros, and had not been there in years. It was a city of commerce, where avarice made new laws to oust the old. They had no time to honour the traditional ways—feasts, celebrations and the education of the young were neglected. Umniga concentrated her efforts amongst the country folk on the plains outside Faros and in the more remote areas of her clan’s territory.

  Normally they headed inland, toward the hills, yet tonight the ocean called her. Devi acquiesced grudgingly; there was little chance of a meal there. As they flew south, Umniga could feel Devi’s powerful wings easily climbing, then the air current carried them and they glided. The full moon cast a wondrous luminescence over the ocean. Behind her the jagged cliff face rose to a distant point. Umniga savoured the peaceful rhythm of the beat and glide of his wings, but she felt a gentle yet persistent tug pulling them further still from the coast. She could not recall feeling any impulse as strong in all her long life. Just as Umniga was beginning to think herself addled for coming in this direction, Devi’s thoughts of the epicurean delights surrounding Faros’s granary emerged again.

  ‘Oh, all right then, go on, fill your fat belly! I’ve no idea why we came this way.’ As Devi banked, she noticed a shape on the horizon. She pulled his fixated mind away from thoughts of dinner, toward the object they had glimpsed. He made a disgruntled growl. ‘You can eat as much as you want after this.’

  Gliding down, Umniga could clearly see they were approaching a long, ungainly looking boat; much larger than the fishing boats she was used to. Everything about the boat was an oddity to her: the size, the shape, the square sail, everything except the figurehead. A magnificent horse rose from the timber work on which Devi landed. The carving delighted her with its meticulous attention to detail. Devi’s sharp eyes revealed a crowded deck littered with sleeping people and possessions.

  Many of the occupants were families; children slept huddled between their parents. Where had they come from? They had obviously been at sea for some time. The effects of exposure were evident—their faces, even in sleep, looked raw, thin, pinched and anxious. Empty barrels sat on deck, open to the sky waiting to catch rain. Umniga noticed a hatch that opened to a hold. Therein she saw some empty animal pens, tools, household utensils, pots and pans. They had brought enough to settle anew. Why? Had they fled from something?

  Intrigued, she examined the passengers more closely. Most were fair with unusual hair colour—some blond, some red, many shades of brown, but none as dark as her people. ‘I wonder …’

  Instinctively, Devi cocked his head to one side, causing the colours before them to fade. Slowly, other colours emerged as the auras around the people became visible. Scanning the passengers, she saw varying shades of brown and green, the odd flickering of blue; nothing unusual. Feeling disgruntled, she wanted Devi to leave, but he would not.

  Instead he hopped along the railing until he was near a sleeping family. She waited. Suddenly a flash of red flicked through the aura of the small boy of about five, clutching a flute, as he stirred in his sleep. Immediately, Devi turned and flew to the stern of the boat. Umniga gasped. This girl against the side of the cabin—she was like a beacon. Her aura was stronger than the others, deep shades of brown, green, then fluctuating with streaks of violet and red.

  Umniga’s surprise was so great it broke her concentration, threatening her connection to Devi. Feeling the connection slipping further, she prayed to Rana and Jalal to help her. If she lost her link with Devi now so far from her body, she could not reconnect with it. She would be unable to navigate the spirit realm so far alone. As she struggled she sensed his surprise and fear for her, then, unexpectedly, she felt an irritated tug as he held their mental link until she regained her composure. Firmly linked again, but shaken, she looked on the girl without seeking her aura. Devi would not allow it again—he could feel her fatigue and would not risk her. The girl’s appearance was different to the others, with much darker skin and long dark hair.

  Isaura was sleeping on the deck in a sitting position, resting her back against the side of the cabin. She woke up, unsure of how long she’d slumbered, with a feeling that someone was watching her. Some thing was watching her. A large owl blinked before her. Isaura tried to focus, but struggled against her sleepy stupor. With fierce concentration, she emerged from her somnolence only to find that the owl was still there, its baleful eyes fixed on her.

  However, Isaura could now also see a woman where the owl was. She shook her head, rubbed her eyes. When she next looked, the woman was gone; only the bird remained. She thought she could see the woman dimly again. Her figure was opaque—Isaura could still see the owl through her. That’s it, I’ve lost my mind. Unable to resist the lure of sleep, she could not bring herself to care about this new development. It was easier to simply float in the comforting embrace of her dreams.

  Umniga was startled. Devi hopped back instinctively. This girl could see her spirit form. She was sure that she could see her. Initially, the girl appeared stunned, so Umniga assumed she was untrained. The girl lost her struggle to remain conscious as her head fell forward. Umniga looked more closely and noted her wretched state. By the gods, how long have they been on this boat? How much longer can they last? She thought of the girl’s aura and the gifts she must surely possess in order to see her, even tho
ugh untrained and in such physical distress. We were drawn this way. Is this the work of the Great Mother and Father? Devi gave a soft growl. She smiled, her decision made.

  * * *

  The sunlight blazing through the small bedroom window slowly roused Umniga. She didn’t recall when she got home, or severing the link with Devi. Feeling impossibly ancient, she sat up, collected her wits and went in search of Asha. She found her working with rapid precision in their small garden. Umniga smiled, admiring the speed of Asha’s movements. Asha stood up, aware that she was being watched and turned her small, oval face toward Umniga with a cheeky grin. Asha had been the youngest Kenati apprentice ever. Umniga had watched her grow from the frightened five-year-old she took on over seventeen years ago into a confident young woman.

  ‘Finally, you’re awake! Old one, you gave me a fright. You were gone so long last night, I thought you had left me.’

  ‘Not yet, you whelp! Come inside. I’ve got to eat. I’ve much to tell you and I can’t do it on an empty stomach.’ Asha looked down at her half completed chore. ‘That can wait. Come … come, we’ve got work do.’

  Once inside, Umniga related the previous night’s events to Asha. ‘I want this girl … the boy too, but the girl—she’s the one we really want!’

  Asha’s mind was racing. ‘But Umniga, the last strangers who landed here were killed.’

  ‘That was a long time ago, Asha. They were far from harmless. These are families, women, children … besides I only want the girl and the boy. I don’t care about the rest. We’ll enlist the help of old Deo and his sons; they can take their fishing boat out and bring those two back. We’ll then smuggle them across to the Horse and Bear in the wagon. You get word to the other Kenati … it doesn’t matter who. They’ll all be at Bear Tooth Lake for the Harvest Festival. They’ll tell the Horse and Bear lords what we’re about.’

  ‘Tell the lords? No one tells them what to do.’