She limped to the door and poked her head out. Enuwal sat just outside with his back to the wall, stringing together bunches of lavender to hang up to dry. At the blanket’s rustle, he looked up and smiled. He gathered the lavender and stood.
Malia held the blanket aside for him as he ducked his head to enter. He set the lavender on a nearby shelf, then pointed to the sleeping pallet. Malia sat on it and stretched her legs as he knelt beside her on the hard packed dirt floor. His cool, dry fingers probed at her knee, eliciting a hiss from her when he reached the side of her knee. He nodded to himself and sat back.
“You’ve sprained it. Your knee should be feeling better in a day or two, but I’ll make a wrap for it to help with the swelling.”
A moment later he wrapped a cool, damp, lavender-scented cloth around her knee.
“There’s also this.” Malia raised the skirt to reveal the wound.
“What happened here?” Enuwal prodded carefully around the wound. “Looks like an arrow did this,” he answered himself. His searching gaze met hers, asking silently what had happened.
She ignored the unasked question. “Should I be worried about it?”
“It will heal just fine. I’ll be back.” Enuwal disappeared to the outbuilding.
Malia lay flat, pillowing her head with one arm. How would she explain all this? She could tell Enuwal everything. She’d meant it when she’d told Rasmus that she trusted him. But would he believe her? Would he help her, or would he tell his clan father? Maybe the best thing would be to wait until that night and sneak out, head to the cliffs. Besides, if she told Enuwal everything and he chose to help her, he’d risk becoming an exile himself. She couldn’t let him risk that, for his sake, and for the sake of all the people he helped every day.
The blanket rustled as Enuwal stepped through. He carried two bowls, and strips of cloth hung from one arm. He settled beside her.
Clear water filled one bowl. Enuwal dipped a cloth in that one first and carefully cleaned the wound. Malia bit her lower lip to keep from crying out at the first sting of pain, but it quickly dissipated.
Then Enuwal reached for the other bowl. It held a muddy paste. A strong blend of herbs rose from it and caused Malia to sneeze.
“Will that burn?” she asked.
“Probably not.” Enuwal began to smear the paste around the wound.
It burned, but instead of the fire ant sting Malia anticipated, it simply warmed the areas it touched before cooling and numbing her leg. She let out the breath she’d been holding.
When the wound was covered with the paste, Enuwal wrapped the cloth strips around her thigh, tucking in the ends and using the last one to tie them all together. Then he sat back, his legs bent and his arms wrapped around them, and regarded her.
“What happened?” he asked quietly.
Outside, voices rose and fell excitedly, and children’s feet pounded the dirt as they ran past. Stromlof had probably returned.
Malia’s jumbled thoughts refused to take any coherent form. She sighed. “I don’t know where to begin.”
“Why don’t you start at the place where things fell apart?”
When did things fall apart? It started before Tuvin. It started when Dalibor showed his anger that night he broke the bowl and shoved her against the wall.
She took a deep breath and began, relating her argument with Dalibor over her planned trip to Posalo and over the bowl she’d made for Enuwal. Then came Dalibor’s reaction. She told of how she’d placed his things outside her home with the intent to end their marriage, and how she sensed something darker and angrier within him, and how it scared her.
Enuwal’s countenance darkened as she spoke, but he didn’t interrupt her.
Her words faltered and then stopped when she reached the day Tuvin showed up.
“Whatever you have to say,” Enuwal said, “know that it won’t be repeated outside of these walls.”
“What if it’s something … unlawful?”
“Did you kill anyone?”
“No.”
“Did you share a sleeping pallet with someone other than your husband?”
“Of course not.”
“Then as I said, your words will remain within these walls.”
Malia hesitated. She wondered again if she could really trust Enuwal. What if she misjudged him as she’d misjudged Dalibor? No shadows clouded his eyes as they did Dalibor’s. He looked at her, waiting, honest, like Tuvin and Rasmus. Her sorrow over their loss was nearly tangible, a heavy thing within her chest. Yes, she decided, she could trust him. But was it fair to make her problems his? What if something happened to him? What if she lost him as she’d lost Tuvin and Rasmus? The ache threatened to split her in two.
He took her hand in both of his, the skin warm and dry, the faint waft of the herbs in the outbuilding coming from them. “Malia, I can see you carry a heavy burden. You don’t have to carry it alone. Please, tell me what happened.”
“I’m afraid if I tell you, something might happen to you. I’ve lost two friends already.”
“All the more reason to let me know what’s going on.” The crows’ feet at the corner of his eyes deepened. “You need a friend.”
He was right. She couldn’t do this alone, no matter how much she wanted. And if something happened to her, who would warn the Jeguduns? Who else could try to talk some sense into the Taakwa?
So she told him about Tuvin, and how she discovered the Jegudun’s intelligence and kindness. Enuwal’s eyes widened, but then his gaze turned to something beyond her, as if he were looking at a memory as she spoke. He wore that thoughtful expression for a while, then blinked and paid attention again as she described how Dalibor killed Tuvin and she fled.
Enuwal got up and began making tea, this time using dried berries and herbs. He nodded as Malia spoke, indicating he listened even when his back was to her. Moments later, he set a steaming mug before her. The tangy scent of blackberries and juniper berries rose from it. He added a dollop of honey to each mug. Malia took a sip to soothe her throat, grown raw from all her talking.
Then she untied her necklace, indicated which was Tuvin’s feather, and handed it to Enuwal. He moved to the patch of sunlight coming through the ceiling and studied the feather carefully, turning it over in his hands. His expression was difficult to read.
“When you handed it to me, an image flashed into my mind of you standing in waist-high grass beside a calm pond or spring. I even smelled something, like rotten eggs.” He handed the feather back, and Malia retied the strip of leather around her neck.
She nodded. “That was where I’d hidden Tuvin.” She reached into her travel bag and pulled out the two feathers Rasmus had been carrying. “One of these shows that Outsiders—the Maddion—dammed the river. The other shows part of the history between Taakwa and Jeguduns, before the great war.”
Enuwal made no move to take the feathers. Malia held them out a moment longer, then returned them to the bag. Did he not believe her? Had she pushed his credulity too far?
“I know this is a lot of information,” she began. Rasmus had said much the same thing to her only the night before. Had it really been just last night?
Enuwal went to the shelf that held his gifts. He fiddled with them, straightening the knife when it seemed in the perfect position already to show off its features, then moving on to the next item, his deft fingers making minute adjustments.
Malia shifted her seat and took a sip of the cooling tea. She’d said too much. Enuwal was probably figuring out a way to let her know he’d be telling the men’s council about her.
“This feather,” he said, “shows the Taakwa helping the Jeguduns many years ago.” He kept his back to her.
“Yes,” she said cautiously.
“And it shows the Outsiders—these Maddion you mentioned—as the common enemy of Taakwa and Jeguduns.”
“Yes.” Was he guessing this from what she’d said?
“There is a magic bond between Jeguduns and Taakwa�
��”
Malia struggled to her feet, ignoring the ache in her knee and thigh. “You know,” she said. “You know what really happened in the great war.” She put a hand on his arm and turned him to her. “How do you know this? How long have you known? Were you going to do anything about it, or just let the Taakwa march to the cliffs thinking the Jeguduns were the cause of our problems?”
He lowered his voice to a hiss. “I would be exiled if I suggested the Jeguduns might not be what we thought.”
“As I am as good as exiled? There’s no going back home for me. But at least I’m trying to do something about this mess.”
Enuwal flinched as if she’d struck him with her hand.
Malia shook her head. “How do you know all this?”
“You should sit, get off your legs.”
“Don’t change the subject.” She crossed her arms.
He let out a quiet laugh. “There’s that fire I remember.” He held his hands up pleadingly. “I’m not changing the subject. I’ll tell you. But sit down first, please.”
She returned to her spot beside the hearth. Enuwal sat beside her, his arms around his bent legs. The faint smile faded from his face.
“I discovered something last summer, not long after you returned home,” he said. “I was having trouble finding a certain herb and wandered closer to the cliffs than I had before. This was on the west side of the falls. I noticed there weren’t any Jeguduns around. They didn’t seem to live in that part of the cliffs. So I felt fairly safe poking around the area.”
He took a sip of tea, then continued, “I found a large cave. The herb grew near the entrance. I was just close enough to make out some drawings around the entrance. They were Taakwa drawings, that much I knew. I didn’t want to linger in the area in case Jeguduns showed up, so I left before taking a closer look.
“I spent the next few days thinking about those drawings. They just wouldn’t leave me alone. I figured they must be from long before the Jeguduns. Maybe they told a different part of our history or added to the great war. So I went back one day to take a closer look at them.
“To my surprise, they showed Taakwa and Jeguduns living together, working together. It wasn’t what I was expecting at all.”
Malia nodded. She’d felt much the same when she’d discovered the Jegudun carvings around the hot springs.
“I went deeper into the cave. I had brought a torch with me, just in case, and lit it. The cave was huge, wide enough for two dozen men to walk side by side with their arms outstretched, but not very tall. I almost turned around when I found sconces and torches lining the walls. They were unlit, but I was afraid the Jeguduns might show up. But it was quiet, and my curiosity wouldn’t allow me to leave.
“I don’t know how far I walked. It went deeper and deeper into the earth. All that rock on top of me seemed to press down. I started to have trouble breathing. I was about to turn back when it opened up.” His voice fell to a reverential hush. “There was a dim light. Lanterns were lit in niches all around the cave and showed paintings on the ceiling. In that part of the cave, the ceiling soared above me. The Jeguduns had to have been the ones to paint those pictures. There was no way a Taakwa could get up there. The rock had been smoothed, and there were pictures of the Jeguduns fighting the Outsiders and the winged lizards—”
“Dragons. The winged lizards are called dragons.”
Enuwal nodded. “There was blood everywhere. And then there was a picture of the Jeguduns in our valley. The Taakwa were feeding them, tending their wounds. The Jeguduns prepared the caves they live in now.
“And then the paintings showed the Outsiders descending upon the valley. There was a huge battle. Taakwa were hanged by their arms from trees, and the dragons ripped them open and—” He shook his head. “I can’t even describe it. I don’t want to describe it. It was the great war, and it was far worse than the stories tell.”
“That’s because our ancestors couldn’t remember any of it.”
“I couldn’t figure that out. How did our stories come to vary so much from these paintings? If the Jeguduns were truly the horrible beasts we thought, why would they show a story like that? I figured out that they and our ancestors used magic somehow to defeat the Outsiders.”
“The magic takes Taakwa memories. That’s why our ancestors don’t know the story. They woke up, or came to, or whatever happened to them to find dead dragons and Outsiders and the Jeguduns. They were terrified and put it all together the wrong way.”
Enuwal rubbed his forehead, a gesture Malia recognized as one he did when he was deep in thought. “That makes sense. I’ve spent nearly a year trying to sort it out. And then the Jeguduns recently begin to act strange, flying in large groups. They seemed agitated.” His hand dropped. “There’s a small village north of here where a Jegudun tried to carry off a boy.”
Malia nodded. “Tuvin showed that to me. He attacked the other Jegudun so she’d leave the boy. But as for why she tried to take him in the first place, I don’t know. I think it has to do with the Maddion.”
Enuwal stood and began to pace. “What do the Outsiders want?”
“They want the valley. They can’t get in because of a barrier the Jeguduns and Taakwa put up. That’s where all the magic went, and our ancestors’ memories.”
“And when they get in?”
“I don’t know. But whatever they want, I’m sure it’s not to offer their friendship.”
Enuwal grimaced. “Based on the paintings, I’d have to agree with you.” He stopped. “I know why you left Selu. But why were you headed to the cliffs?”
“To warn the Jeguduns. I don’t want bloodshed, not theirs, not Taakwa’s. And I want to let Tuvin’s family know what happened to him.”
“And afterwards?”
Malia shrugged, trying to look certain of herself when she wasn’t. “I thought I’d stay with the Jeguduns.”
“Separated from your people? You’ve been training to become a clan mother. You have so many talents to offer the Taakwa—your pottery, your knowledge of lineages, your compassion. You can’t cut yourself off from us. The Taakwa need you.” He bit off his words. Leaning down, he took her empty mug. He rinsed both quickly in a basin of water, then carried the gray water Malia had used outside. It splashed into the grass.
Neither Dalibor nor her mother had ever spoken to her in such a way. They had both taken her for granted, had assumed she’d do the right thing for her people. Enuwal’s words soothed and warmed her like the paste he’d applied to her wound.
She hastened to her feet, letting the damp cloth fall from her knee. The swelling had gone down. She gathered her dirty clothes, trying not to breathe in the odors rising from them, and carried them outside. Her knee didn’t hurt much as long as she didn’t straighten it.
Enwaul stood beside his outbuilding, staring at the waterfall. At the sound of Malia’s footsteps, he turned.
“I should have cleaned up after myself,” she said, lifting the armful of clothes. “I didn’t mean to leave my smelly clothes inside your home.”
He grinned. “Leave them near the door. It’ll keep the bears and cougars away.”
“Ha, ha.” She dropped them well downwind of the door and joined Enuwal. The falls were as she remembered, a shimmering ribbon of gray and white in the distance. And just beyond them, the Maddion waited for their chance to get into the valley. Tuvin had indicated the Jeguduns were trying to resolve the problem with the river. Had they somehow overcome the Maddion, or had the Maddion released the river on their own? And if the Jeguduns had nothing to do with this, then what did this mean?
“You used to come out here every day,” Enuwal said. “Do you remember?”
Malia smiled. “Of course. And you and I would take a walk every morning and afternoon to look for clay or to gather chips to use to fire my pottery. And each time you’d make me go a little farther. I was always aching in the evening.”
“But you walked back home to Selu, a far cry from how you were
carried here.”
Pounding footsteps approached from around the bend. A moment later, a group of young boys raced past, seemingly intent upon catching the one in the lead who carried a stick covered with leather, a few straps hanging from its end and flying just as the boy’s hair flew behind him. A couple of boys shouted a greeting to Enuwal as they passed. They quickly disappeared around the bend.
“I believe you about the Jeguduns,” Enuwal said. “But to convince your men’s council back in Selu might be difficult, given their experience with the creatures recently.”
Malia nodded, wondering where Enuwal was going with this.
“So, I would like to make a suggestion.” He turned his gaze to the distant falls. “Perhaps, once you’ve delivered your news of Tuvin’s death to his family, you could return here. And you could stay with me. It would be far more comfortable and familiar than living among Jeguduns.” He hurriedly went on, “You don’t have to answer right away. And I’m not asking that you share a bed with me. But I’ve thought about you ever since you left.”
Malia thought back to the time she’d spent with Enuwal when she was ill. He’d been attentive and had pushed her constantly in her recovery. She’d considered it normal for him. After all, he had the reputation as the best healer in the valley. But perhaps he’d given her more attention than usual, and she hadn’t noticed because she had been so wrapped up in her close brush with death and getting back to Selu and Dalibor.
The boys ran past again, startling her from her thoughts. This time, a different boy had the leather-covered stick. He led them away from the village, towards the fir trees on the hillside. Their pounding footsteps and shouts echoed and then faded as they entered the forest. A flock of birds burst from the trees at the boys’ passage.
Malia went to Enuwal and laid a hand on his arm. “Your offer is very kind, but once word reaches Posalo that I helped a Jegudun and didn’t tell the council about it, I’ll be unwelcome here.” And truth was, she didn’t know how she felt about his offer. She had resigned herself to a new life with the Jeguduns. Enuwal’s words had set her mind to spinning.
Shards of History Page 15
