Blood Indigo

by Talulah J. Sullivan

  “My thanks, horse-chieftain,” the message-talker said, and with a polite gesture, slid out past Anahli.

  “Galenu sends word,” Palatan spoke quietly. “Našobok has taken Tokela to River. The outLanders are hunting him.”

  Anahli shifted uncomfortably. It merely confirmed what they had already found, upon the connexion of Elementals.

  “I’m glad Galenu thought to warn us,” Aylaniś said, bending to roll up the guest blanket.

  “His mother was of the night flyers, once,” Palatan replied, soft.

  “Surely Galenu knows nothing!”

  “He knows less than nothing. Nevertheless, it’s enough to look outside his own concerns upon such things. He knows it’s a matter for Lapis council to decide upon.”

  “Despite thinking he could take Tokela to Chepiś!” Aylaniś snorted like an angry mare, resumed rolling the blanket in a tight-taut fashion that suggested she wished Galenu within it.

  Anahli felt likewise. “Has Galenu gone mad?”

  “He was sure,” Palatan growled, “that Chepiś could help Tokela.”

  “He’s wrong!”

  “Maybe he is, my Dancer. Maybe he isn’t. What matters is we were right, you and I. What we felt on the plain. The Chepiś aren’t making small incursions or trading forays; they’re sending groups of their own all over thisLand. They’ve broken truce. They’re hunting Tokela.” Forest-hued eyes slid to Anahli. “And maybe you as well, daughter.”

  Aylaniś faltered in her motions, unrolled the blanket just that far then snugged it close. Rising, she placed it in a hanging net. “What will Lapis Council do?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I can’t come, can I?” Anahli said, downing the rest of her bread.

  “N’da. You haven’t been accepted in Lapis, yet.”

  She was beginning to understand some of what Tokela felt.

  If they don’t accept us, oathbrother, we’ll make our own Clan. Somehow.

  “AI, TOKELA, that smells wonderful.”

  Dawn was in full regalia, finger-painting Sky all gilt and copper. Smoke lifted a misty scrim upwards and between as roiled, sated, beneath a steaming basket.

  Sated indeed. Tokela wondered if he would ever get used to the shivery wonder that clenched his heart whenever he realised he himself had put that indolence into his playmate’s voice. Perhaps such things should never be taken for granted—or perhaps he was all too new to the courting. Raising his head from where he knelt beside the hot rocks, he let wonder trace itself into a small smile as Našobok stretched, like a waking lion.

  “Stew made from the grain and dried meat in our pouches.” Tokela leaned forwards, gave the small basket another stir with his knife. “I watered Lioness, too.” He jerked his chin towards their mount, nibbling here and there to top off the handful of dates he’d found in another pouch.

  “Enough small things make a feast. Lioness, you say?”

  “She was brave enough to earn the name during Moons passage.”

  “Hunh.” Našobok grinned, then rubbed hands over his sleep-scrunched face. “You should have woken me. How long have you been awake?”

  Tokela shrugged, unsure he’d means to describe what had kept him awake. The release; not just after the rutting but from what had happened before. The utter, blissful silence that remained, long after the Elementals had burned through him. And in the silence, the ability to contemplate what else had burned through him. Answers, winnowed from Stars…

  Winnowing. It gave him a shiver, and he shrugged the blanket closer about his shoulders. Instead he motioned a spear’s throw away, where scavenger birds were skirmishing over the bodies from lastdark’s stand. “The meat was already turning with the heat, so I left it. Instead I used some of your leaf to give our foes due honour whilst retrieving our arrows. But I used sand to clean the points; we’ve only the one skin of water remaining.”

  “I hadn’t planned on so many things going wrong, and…” Našobok trailed off. The subject matter was less than comfortable.

  Tokela also fell silent.

  Then: “Našo—”

  “Toke—”

  Their voices met and collided, broke into a short, shared laugh. Našobok scooted closer and brought his fist to lips then breast, gestured outward: Say what is in your heart.

  Easy enough to ask, not so to do. Tokela tried to find talk, finally settled on the one thing that did come more readily into voice.

  “Do you think they would help me?”

  Našobok frowned. “I never said the tall ones would help—”

  “Not Chepiś.” A shudder. “After what I felt lastdark… they don’t want to help, believe me. I mean the duskLands shamans.”

  The frown deepened, and Tokela continued, quickly, “It is what they call themselves amongst themselves, a’io?”

  “How can you know what…?” Starting in confusion, it trailed away.

  “Lastdark, I touched Fire, and he was there, just for a few breaths.”

  “He?”

  “Alekšu. Palatan.”

  Našobok’s lips formed the latter.

  “Fire pulled him in to help me, lastdark. But in the end he… retreated.”

  The storm-hued eyes flickered, lowered.

  They have an oath, the Wolf and his brother Warrior, one that reaches far beyond lovemates, Tokela reminded himself. Yet, he knows something! He knows! clamoured fiercer.

  “Anahli was with him, and…” Tokela hesitated as Našobok frowned. Of course, he didn’t know. Couldn’t know; he’d been downRiver.

  So Tokela told him what had happened. All of it.

  “You… wakened Anahli.” It was a dry whisper, Našobok’s eyes lighting as he met Tokela’s gaze. “Do you realise what this means? If you can waken powers long thought dead… ai, Star Eyes, no wonder they hunt you.”

  “It wasn’t just Palatan. Not just Anahli. There were more… more shamanKin. I… I felt them, couldn’t help but have done. In my heart, a presence treading upon Spirit’s hem, like how River fills me. But it was with voices, instead of an Elemental’s silent not-talk. Not many, but…” Tokela paused, then whispered, a savour upon his tongue. “They were there. That’s why Anahli is with them. With her sire, after she told me to stay clear, else he might rip from me what is rightfully mine… Anahli is there, and her Power bides with her.”

  Našobok had lowered his eyes.

  “Našobok, please believe me.”

  “I believe you.” It was wooden.

  “All our lives we’ve been told: to manipulate the Elementals is forbidden. To be possessed of one is unthinkable. Inhya wanted to send me to Alekšu, because she think he—”

  “Cures the possessed or proclaims them incurable.” Našobok finished, but still his eyes remained downcast. “Chogah said I was incurable. She was glad to make of me outcast. I was glad, too, in the end.”

  “But now Palatan is Alekšu, and what becomes of those who have been… dispossessed? They never answer that, do they?—but I Saw it. They bide there, in secret, with others. There are other Shapers!”

  “Tokela, there are no more Shapers. Save Chepiś.”

  “And me.” He couldn’t help the waver of his voice, nor the bitter edge.

  Našobok’s gaze rose, startled.

  “So, those who have kept Grandmother protected since Winnowing are named Shaman. Not Shaper. And it’s different, isn’t it?”

  Those storm-hued eyes widened, then narrowed. Gauging.

  “Different because Winnowing was an evil time.” Tokela leaned forwards, stirred at the stew again, heard Fire whispering, sated. “Chepiś twisted Grandmother, and the creatures birthed—formed—still exist. In Šilombiš’okpulo. In other places, scattered over Grandmother’s belly. And here. Even now we draw closer to one of those mis-Shapen places, hoping its twisted nature will twist their hunt ’round. Don’t we?”

  Našobok blinked, surprised. “I didn’t say…” Then shrugged. “Ai, only what I deserve, courting the likes of you. Of
course you know.”

  “I didn’t, before last night. I… it was like the Star-basket, pouring into me.”

  “Then you know more than I ever have. And what knowledge I do have, I gave oath. Can you understand? It will never pass my lips.”

  “Then I’ll say it. And I do understand, now. It’s because of the wreckage Grandmother endured that our ancestors decided Shapers must be purged from thisLand. Even those who were our own. So”—his eyes slid upwards, met Našobok’s—“any who would defy that, even to use such things for our good and protection? Ai, they would do well to hide, lest we eliminate them, too. Hide, beneath the truth.”

  “What if everything is truth, Tohwakelifitčiluka?”

  “Then, Našoboka’qékla, we’ve nothing to hide.”

  “I cannot speak to what’s not mine to tell.”

  “Then speak to what is yours. Did shamanKin offer you a place? When they couldn’t”—so long ago—n’da, merely a waning of Moon ago—he’d wanted it; now Tokela could barely voice it—“purge River from you.”

  “I wield nothing; I’m merely an outcast tainted with River’s possession.” So careful, the talk. Našobok was trying.

  “Can Alekšu help one who is tainted by Chepiś?”

  “There is no taint in y—”

  “Isn’t there? When you came for me…” Tokela’s thoughts ran apace with his heart, hammering swift. “You said you wouldn’t take me there, to duskLands. That we couldn’t go there. It’s because Grandmother’s true Spirit hides in duskLands caverns, a’io? And Chepiś mustn’t know or come near.”

  “Neither”—Našobok reached out, gave Tokela’s arm a slight shake—“must they come near you. Tokela, belay these questions for another Sun’s rising, and for one who can answer. One who knows the answers.”

  But even that was an answer. “It’s just… there are others. I’m not alone. There are others, but…” Cheeks stinging, Tokela dropped his eyes. “They still aren’t like me, are they?”

  “You aren’t alone. I’m here. We have this much of an oath between us: while I breathe, you are not alone.”

  And me. It came, faint, upon Wind. I’m like you.

  Anahli.

  If they don’t accept us, oathbrother, we’ll make our own Clan. Somehow.

  Eyes stinging now, as well as cheeks. Tokela shook his head and shrugged from the blanket. “I don’t know if I’ll ever understand. You’ve never turned away. You don’t care what I am. What they’re hunting—”

  “Who. Who they’re hunting. You aren’t a thing.”

  Not a thing. At his toes, Fire hissed content.

  Tokela stared.

  You are not a thing. I’m glad you finally hear me in thisnow.

  Why haven’t I heard you before? Tokela pitched the not-talk just as silent, just as if he’d always known how.

  Perhaps you haven’t wanted to listen. You are River’s, true enough, but you are also child to all of Us, little brother. You remember My co-tenant, first of shamanKin, but do you not remember how you opened to Us, let light into the darkness to Dance with you?

  Tokela reached out, stroked fingers over the heat. It was somehow just as perilous—just as wrong—to not acknowledge the presence as it was to cede to it.

  You let Us take you, little brother. Even as you took the wilding Riverbrother after, in another lovely Dance through which River spoke, washed calm through you both with the pounding heat of seed and heart-blood.

  A steady hand gripped Tokela’s chin. “Come back, tšukasi.”

  The endearment warmed. “I wasn’t far.” As he spoke, Tokela realised its veracity. The Elementals had quieted somehow, commingling within his heart. Not out of control, like Stars always were, like Fire had been lastdark beneath Them—Reaching Them, that was the way—a transfer carried on rough, hot Wind for perilous heartbeats. “I just… I need to know. Could shamanKin help me? Would they?”

  “I swear to you, I don’t know. I think Palatan means to find a way, but things aren’t so simple. Ai, well.” Našobok grinned. “Nothing is, with you.”

  Tokela couldn’t help a return smile; it laced his voice, wry. “But I’m not merely one who hears Elementals. I’m enemy. Shaper. Part… Other.”

  “You’re not an enemy.”

  “But still, we’re heading away from duskLands.”

  A shrug, then Našobok sniffed at the cooking basket and tsked approval. “This much I do know. The shapingWells are wild, beyond even the control of what Chepiś made them. The one we approach might subvert their sorcery, help hide us. You might be conversant with other Elementals”—this with a twist of brow, more puzzlement—“and how that’s possible I don’t know, because my heart recognises you as River’s. I didn’t think it was possible to be held by more than one. Either way, you say She will hide you, and I believe you. Still, our fight is to get there.” Testing with his fingers, he found their meal cool enough to eat and dug in.

  Our fight. Tokela wasn’t sure he could fully express the emotions rising within his own Spirit, let alone in outwards voice. “But you’re worried.”

  “Of course I’m worried!” Našobok pushed the warm porridge towards him. “You had me scared to leaking. I don’t like being that helpless, I don’t want either of us to be in that place again, and I’m not so thick as to think we’ll have smooth sailing just because the waters have calmed beneath Sun’s gaze.”

  The confession lay between them, oddly reassuring.

  “Eat,” Našobok insisted. “I had to sleep, but we need to get some lengths behind us before Sun’s heat forces us to halt. Are you able for some hard riding?”

  Tokela nodded. Našobok smiled, brief but wide, and began eating. Between bites, he hummed a travelling orison beneath his breath. Tokela tasted the stew; at first unwilling, then ravenous.

  Perhaps it was why, at first, he shrugged away the odd lightness of his hands and head. He didn’t know enough about what his Spirit made of him, but it did make him hungry.

  But as he stood, he knew.

  Like fog creeping over River’s lowlands—yet in the same breath nothing like—it crept forwards. Intent.

  “We have to go,” Tokela said. “They know where we are.”

  “HERE? THE Chepiś dare to hunt across our Lands?”

  “We were fools to think they would honour truce.”

  “The reports have come, more and more, of their transgressions. A visit here, a hunting party there, and Matwau traders accompany them—”

  “Matwau traders! Traitors, more like!”

  “A curse upon Matwau! I’m more worried about what Chepiś want!”

  “But taking slaves! Sending their like into our territory, hunting our People?”

  “What is their plan?”

  “Who can know the heart of such creatures? If they honoured Grandmother they wouldn’t have crawled over her, infecting her like body insects—”

  “Enough!” Lomuyiho’s face was lined with the wisdom of many Hoops walked, her eyes clouded as milk. Still, she eyed up her companions one by one, “seeing” them plain. “To chatter like fearful burrow-pups serves us nothing!” Tucking further into her blanket, she held out weathered hands to Fire and prompted, “Alekšu. You didn’t say whether you sensed the tall ones through your co-tenant, or through the ehšehklan.”

  An ugly, midLander name, meaning amongst other things, “half-breed”. One Palatan should protest. But truth had stood him down, out there beneath the mountains and on the plain. He had Seen into young Tokela’s heart, Sensed the Void-within-Stars swirling within. The Power that Chepiś had stolen long ago. The Power only they could wield.

  “The tall ones look for him,” Palatan admitted. “We knew this might happen. It’s why I asked to bring him here.”

  “And it’s why he cannot be allowed here!” another growled. He was a brace of summerings Palatan’s younger—late come to his co-tenant, and gifted, but still uneasy.

  So few, Palatan mused, looking over the small group that had
gathered in the caverns, hearthFire flickering over their faces. Lapis Council had once filled this cavern, so Lumiyiho taleKeeper claimed. Thisnow gathered only nine including himself, with fewer born each turning of Hoop.

  Their society had begun in secrecy; at this rate they well could end in extinction.

  “You show disrespect,” chided Lomuhiyo, and several others murmured agreement.

  “Yet he speaks with some truth,” another pointed out. “Bring the ehšehklan here, to our most sacred place? When it’s likely he is a beacon set in our midst to betray us?”

  Palatan was glad he’d not allowed Anahli to come. He knew she longed to participate, but… n’da. Not yet.

  “His dam broke truce, and wandered the forbidden territories. In consequence the Chepiś bewitched her, Shaped her to hold their seed.”

  “That is a lie.” The voice filled a shadowed side alcove and extended into the chamber, low and hoarse and strangely musical.

  Palatan’s protest whistled out, muted, between his teeth.

  The voice continued. “May the oških’s dam Dance with the ancestors; the Lost One was daughter to my sister. She was born amongst People a’Naisqwyr, not here in horsetalker Lands, but even upon River’s thighs do People mate by choice. The Lost One was overfamiliar with things she shouldn’t have touched, but she did not despoil herself upon any Chepiś creature.”

  It was surprising enough that Chogah had agreed to accompany him. But even more surprising was that her silence should be broken in Tokela’s defence.

  No doubt she waited, like Weaver in ša’s web, to spin a trick-trap none could yet see.

  “You cannot deny the oških has been Shaped,” another protested.

  “That,” Chogah drawled, “is obvious. You forget, I knew my sister’s daughter. I touched the child when he was still enwombed. Shaped, a’io—but get of Chepiś?” A derisive snort.

  “So he is alien, and presents a danger to us!”

  “A half-grown oških? He hasn’t even earned status enough to claim a spouse!”

  “Naišwyrh’uq cast him out.”