Pekari -The Azure Fish

by Guenevere Lee

  Samaki glared at him. Why did they need watching? But with an arrow trained on his throat, he resisted the urge to speak. The men clamoured off the ship, helping to carry the injured down. When the Sephians saw the wounded men, they left their weapons on the boat and came forward to help.

  “We need to take them to the priests,” Samaki said.

  The Sephians nodded. “Lend me two of your men, but the rest stay here.”

  Two of his men and two of theirs took the wounded, disappearing up the steep incline of the road. It wasn’t much longer before the familiar face of Postes came down the street from the opposite direction, a large smile on his face—a face smeared with dirt and sweat. He, like the city, looked nothing like when Samaki had last lain eyes on him. His silk tunic was slick with mud. It hung loose about his shoulders, far looser than was fashionable. Postes had been round before, and while he had hardly become thin, he was maybe half the size he’d been the last time they’d met.

  “Postes—”

  The man cut him off, pulling him into a tight hug, squeezing the air out of his lungs, and roughly kissing his cheeks not only twice, but four times, and then another two times just out of pure joy. When he pulled away, he had tracks of tears running down his dirty face, and Samaki nearly forgot everything he wanted to say.

  “Postes…What’s happened here?”

  “To look at Serepty now, you might not realize the damage that was done,” Postes said, taking a bite of his bread. He had very little food to offer, just day-old bread, some olives, and a little salted meat, but the hungry sailors were not complaining. In fact they could focus on little else.

  They were sitting in a room Samaki remembered being decorated with silk curtains and golden vases, but now had very little, save a few ornate wooden chairs and a large table. The Sephian crewman who’d arrived with them had disappeared to go look for his family. Samaki doubted he would ever see the man again. The rest of the crew bundled together in a corner, relieved at finally having a meal and shade from the sun.

  “The town is completely changed from when I last saw it,” Samaki muttered, still in shock.

  “I still remember that day. The memory will always be carved into my vision,” Postes cleared his throat, staring out the window. Samaki knew Postes was not referring to the day he had last seen Serepty, but the day everything had changed. “We were still celebrating our rather profitable exchange. I’m sure you remember it, Maki.”

  “Of course,” but the memory made Samaki frown. That wine had brought him more grief than joy.

  “I was sure many more would follow. I drank himself into a stupor and awoke with a thunderous headache…I didn’t witness the first wave, but I heard the screaming, and when I went to the window to see what was happening, it looked like the ocean had risen to swallow half the town.

  “The water rushed over the low lands and dragged away anything in its path. We didn’t see the extent of the damage until the waters receded, but everywhere the water touched, wood houses were ripped away and stone houses were shattered. And the people who had gone into the water, never came up again…”

  Most of the sailors had stopped chewing on their bread and were staring up at Postes intently.

  “Of course, the island is so steep that the upper half of Serepty was spared, but the lower half could not escape its doom. The ships and docks were crushed into splinters. Most of our crops and fields were on the lower lands, and so most of our food was gone, and the soil was so poisoned with salt that nothing grew for months. My own vineyard was completely lost. My home was spared, as you can see, but that was little consolation. I was just as destitute as the rest of them.”

  “Things have gotten better?” Samaki asked.

  Postes nodded. “Better, but only just. Most of my time and energy this past year has been spent cultivating new farmland. You can see it.”

  Postes pointed to a window behind Samaki, who stood and went over to it, looking at the high ground. Because of the multitudes of steep hills and mountains on Serepty, any field had to be dug up and flattened, painstakingly turning the dirt into steps of bright crop-filled plots. It was impressive to see how many they had managed to make in just under two years.

  “It didn’t go well, at first. We’d only managed to finish a few before planting season began last year—far too few. This year things were improving. The fields we made the year before were ready for planting early in the spring, and the older fields looked like they would be ready for planting by next year. We still have set-backs.”

  Posted motioned towards his muddy clothes. “The other day there was a landslide on one of the new fields. Five men died, and all their work was just…erased. That’s where I was when I heard you were at the dock. The entire day, I’ve been rallying the workers and helping them dig and move the land, to re-till it and hope for a second chance at a harvest. It was useless, of course, since most of the crops were too badly damaged to be replanted.”

  He shook his head, and sighed. “Still, I thought if we made it through winter, we would be just as strong as we had once been. Apparently, I wasn’t the only person who thought so.”

  “What do you mean?” Tiyharqu asked, and Samaki looked away from the fields and back towards Postes.

  “After the wave, even before we started focusing on tilling the fields, we had worked to rebuild the docks,” Postes frowned, his eyes falling to the floor. “If we hadn’t rebuilt the docks, would the Sea People have come? Of course, without the docks the fishermen wouldn’t have been able to work, and we would be that much closer to death now—”

  “Sea People?” Samaki’s eyes narrowed. The memory of his own ship being attacked and looted still blazed in his mind.

  “We don’t know where they live, save they come from and return to the sea after every attack.”

  “What of the king? Do you no longer have his protection?” Tiyharqu asked, and it seemed to Samaki like she was just trying to change the subject, as though Samaki would just forget what Tiyharqu had done when they’d encountered the Sea People.

  Postes looked at the seven people watching him and stood up, perhaps not happy with the audience. “Maki, Harqu, come with me. I want to show you something.”

  “You men stay,” Samaki nodded to the sailors. “Enjoy your bread.”

  No one protested as Samaki and Tiyharqu followed Postes out of the villa. They walked up a cobbled path towards another villa. It was the same design, like a giant white staircase, each roof a veranda for the room above it.

  “The man who lived there, along with his wife and child, has been missing since the wave. Some said they were at the shore that morning; others whispered the servants murdered them in the ensuing chaos in order to make off with their gold and jewels. It certainly was true that the servants ran off with everything they could carry. The days that followed were madness. I barricaded myself and my family in my villa, keeping the guards there with such valuable bribes, I lost half my remaining wealth without the looters even making their way in.”

  “And the other lords?” Samaki looked around. There were several dozen villas nearby.

  “Lucky for us, most of the people’s ire turned towards the king. The gods sent the wave, of course. The people blamed the king, concluding that he must have angered them. They clamoured at the shining gypsum walls for a day before they gotten in. Some of the guards or servants inside must have blamed the king as well, for the doors were surely opened from the inside to let the rabble in.”

  The palace shone like honey in the light of the sunset, and they had to shield their eyes to look up at it.

  “Eventually things died down, though. Chaos turned to mourning. Everyone had lost someone. You’d look for friends and family, and always someone was missing…My brother, Solon, had taken my son and daughter to the market that day…

  “My sister-in-law, Eudoxia, came to live with us. She was pregnant at the time. It’s a miracle the boy survived. He’s a sickly thing. She barely speaks now, always
crying about my brother or about how the child will surely die,” he sighed deeply. “I hate being at home these days, hate the quiet sadness that has infiltrated my life. Maybe that’s why I try to help so much. I started digging fields before anyone formally asked me to help organize and rebuild the farms.”

  “A natural born leader,” Tiyharqu smiled, patting Postes on the back.

  “Well, thank you, my lady, but an organizer is hardly a leader.”

  “So the king is dead?” Samaki was still staring at the palace, the shining beacon that had always lifted his heart whenever he had seen it on the horizon.

  “After the royal blood was washed from the stone floors, the priests and priestesses went in to purify the place, and they haven’t left since. It seems they mean to use the building as a new temple dedicated to Neiston, to please the god and avoid any future calamities. I don’t care so much about the priests or the gods. They aren’t going to save us from starving. They aren’t going to save us from the diseases that have taken nearly as many people as the wave did. They aren’t going to save us from the Sea People.”

  “Tell me about them,” Samaki said with renewed interest.

  “We heard rumours of some of the fishermen being attacked, but even before the wave it wasn’t so strange for desperate men to steal fish from the boats out at sea. The idea that an island might be attacked, and an island such as Serepty, was unfathomable to us!” His fists clenched in anger.

  “They came in the night. They did not sneak in to steal a few loaves of bread. They leapt off their ships, taking torches to anything that would burn. The fires were just a distraction. As we fought to put out the flames, the Sea People reaped the fields. The food wasn’t even ready for harvest, but those savages didn’t care. They took what they could, and what they couldn’t, they burned. We had no recourse. Most locked themselves away or hid high in the hills. Others braved the night, trying to stop the fires. Luckily the fires didn’t spread far, but the food was gone, and there was no time to grow more.”

  Postes began walking to a villa that looked far more run-down than his own. They entered the main door, and Samaki saw where most of the people had gone.

  The people were gathered in the main hall, the second room after the entrance hall. Each room was separated by a few steps. Just like the fields, the buildings here needed to be built as a series of stages. Samaki could remember coming to lush banquets here before, climbing these steps, and being announced to the rich lords and ladies gathered around the pond in the centre of the room, but he’d never seen so many people packed in here as he did now. The pond was empty of water, but full of the sick and dying.

  The mob was filthy, half-starved, and unwashed. This place housed families who had lost their homes, and along the walls were their belongings: bed-rolls, cooking utensils, and whatever items they might have salvaged—or looted. Everyone was just as disheveled as Postes. Obviously, the able-bodied people had come from working in the fields as well.

  “May the gods have mercy,” Tiyharqu muttered and clasped one of the amulets she wore around her neck.

  Samaki thought bitterly of the food and medicine he’d wanted to bring these people. Now that he knew how bad their situation was, the loss was even worse. If Tiyharqu hadn’t betrayed him, hadn’t told that damn captain where he’d hid his gold, he might have been able to help these people. The frustrating helplessness he felt made him want to scream.

  “We shouldn’t stay too long; the disease spreads quickly indoors,” Postes turned to leave, and Samaki followed after a moment longer.

  They returned to Postes’ villa, and the larger man showed Samaki’s crew to a room higher up where they could sleep on some stiff mats. Then the three of them went out onto one of the verandas, and Postes offered them a little more bread. The food lightened Postes’ mood almost immediately.

  “I never imagined I would spend my days tilling fields, but actually, I enjoy it,” Postes mused. “All this is to say, despite the hardships you’ve taken to reach us, we simply have nothing to trade.”

  Samaki ripped off a piece of the nearly stale bread he’d been offered, feeling his mouth water. “I set off from Caemaan with a hold full of grains and spices, medicines and all the things your people could need…” Postes face lit up for just a moment. “And lost it all. Lost it in a storm. Lost it trading to fix my ship. Lost it to the Sea People. I have nothing to trade either. I’m sorry, old friend.”

  Postes sighed, his shoulder’s hunching down. “The gods are challenging us, indeed. At least the ship that attacked you wasn’t one of mine.”

  Samaki looked up sharply, Tiyharqu’s brow raised ever so slightly. “What do you mean, one of yours? You have armed ships? You’ve turned to looting?”

  “Looting?” Postes glared. “We’ve turned to self-defence. My people are starving on the streets, at least what few people have been left alive. I showed you all that happened to us. We’ve lost and lost again. It was time to take the fight to sea!”

  “Turning to a life of violence is no answer,” Tiyharqu frowned.

  “It’s the only answer. Since we’ve started arming our ships and sending them out, the people here have changed. Before, they stared into the sea waiting for death, now when they look upon the waters they have hope in their eyes. We have more food now. More medicine now. We’ve barely begun to recover, but now I know we will.”

  “Violence only begets more violence. A raiding party will come again now in retaliation—”

  “Be quiet,” Samaki snapped at Tiyharqu. He’d barely raised his voice, but Postes became silent, looking at Samaki. He had never heard Samaki speak that way to Tiyharqu before. “You are a naïve fool to believe it is better to sit back and let others attack and steal from you. You are an utter imbecile to believe that not raising your spear in retaliation is better than having men bleed you dry and steal everything you’ve worked for!”

  “Maki—”

  “I said be quiet,” Samaki stood up, the rage he’d kept buried inside him suddenly threatening to boil over. “You should have slit his throat. You should have scared those men off instead of inviting them into our—into MY hold!”

  “Then we’d all be dead,” Tiyharqu’s voice seemed lower, her eyes looked more dangerous.

  Samaki laughed, a loud laughter that echoed up the mountainside. “I’d rather be dead than a meek and foolish destitute of a man.”

  “Please, please,” Postes raised his hands and stood up, trying to calm them down. “Do not let the pain of past events cloud your friendship.”

  “And you,” Samaki turned to the man whose extra skin still hung off his chin. “How do you know that ship wasn’t yours?”

  “Because I sent all mine to Mahat,” Postes’ voice quivered slightly.

  “Mahat?”

  “The Sephian Islands are all connected. I could not bear the thought of hurting my brothers on other islands the way we were. And I thought it wise to send our ships farther, so there is less chance of retaliation. The first raid was a great success. We only lost a single man.”

  “All right, all right,” Samaki sat down, feeling heavy. He took his bread and ripped off a piece in his mouth. “The Sea Mahat…How could they have any more than you do? They were destroyed. I saw that with my own eyes the day it happened.”

  “So much more farmland there, so many more people to grow the food. Far more powerful rulers to keep the people in line,” Postes sat down, clearly relieved, though Tiyharqu would not look up.

  Samaki tapped the table a few times. “You owned a vineyard before. You’re a man of nature, of fields and crops, yes?”

  “Yes, what of it?”

  “Nothing. You are the right man to help rebuild the land, to help feed these people.”

  Postes looked unsure. “Yes, I think so—”

  “But you are the wrong man to lead ships.”

  “What are you proposing?” Postes leaned towards Samaki.

  “I’ve had enough of being someone’s pa
wn in a senet game. I’ve had enough of being at the mercy of the Paref, the mercy of the storms, the mercy of the lice-infested Sea People. I’m done with failure. I want something more.”

  CHIPETZUHA

  SUMMON YOUR SONS

  Tenok didn’t know the old man standing before him. The father who had lived in his memory was tall and strong, young with long ebony hair that flowed down to his waist in thick braids. The father in his memory, he realized with a shock, was his uncle— a better and younger version of his father. He realized somehow over the years his memory of his father had been twisted and changed.

  The man who stood before him now, the man introduced as the Chultunyatl; he who is Nuktatlb’onatl; he who is Chultunyatl; he who Guards the Passage; he who Hears the Whisperers, this man was shorter than Tenok by a few fingers. His hair was streaked grey and white, and his braids were decorated with extravagant silver and topaz charms. His crown was massive, a helmet of fire citrine and polished garnets woven between long antean feathers. His waist was far wider than his shoulders and his leathery face, dyed bright red, drooped with boredom and age.

  Tenok nearly took a step back in surprise. His overly ornate tunic and jewellery were the kinds of things he and his older brother used to make fun of when talking about the chakatl they had to deal with daily. Had his father always been like a bird strutting his feathers? Had coming to Chipetzuha changed him? Would it change Tenok as well?

  He realized the room full of huitls had gone silent and all were looking at them. He stammered, realizing he was meant to speak now, but not knowing what he was supposed to say. He looked around the jungle of unfamiliar faces.

  The huitls had all been summoned to the Red Pyramid for a second day to discuss the matter of Huwamanpellpe. Apparently their meeting with Sha’di the day before had convinced them the time had finally come to take action. The room was filled not just with the atls, huitls and their servants but also chakatls. He stood there surrounded by the most powerful men in the world, being judged not only by them but their beady-eyed servants.