I laid down in the barracks, alone, watching a small, green spider weave its web across the soggy window frame while a slow rain pattered into the grass outside. All around me in the thick, muggy air, the empty bunks where my friends once slept, and the spider finished one spiral only to start on another.
The belongings of the dead were taken elsewhere to be processed. Common clothing was broken down and re-spun, coins were returned to the registry, and anything personal was packaged and returned to his Naveris back home.
Their names were crossed out from the book.
Standard procedure.
There was a loose board beside the vacant bed where Faren once kept his things. Hidden beneath, a small burlap bag containing his orca pipe and stash of happy cabbage waited for him to survive this war.
I took my cane and hobbled over to the library; Renou had said he would meet me there. When I arrived, he was enthralled in a giggly conversation with a young Goloagi woman who had circular burn scars where a number once was. I didn't want to interrupt, so I waited around the corner for a good ten minutes, only for them to keep at it. Upstairs, Indictment was gone. Someone (Faren) had taken it out of the city and brought it to Praying Mantis. So, I found another book with a long-winded title: The Daenma Schism: An Analysis of the Rift Between the Imperial Goloagi and Eastern Orthodox Daenma Churches.
I sat in a large bag chair on one of the balconies overlooking the tall towers of the inner sanctum reaching into the cloudy sky, staring at the cover. Polished green leather with delicate patterned engravings all around the edges stared back, and I couldn't will myself to open it.
Miyani was busy doing her thing at the Lake of Doom. So she was there, and I was here.
I could have gone to the church. And feel empty and alone there, instead of here.
That was wrong. I should have sought God's presence.
The hundred-and-something-year-old woman had told me I could come by at any time. So, I got up and limped my way around the library, between stone-faced buildings with shops on the ground floor catering to denizens, mostly women, buying jeweled trinkets and stuff that smelled good. Around the back of the high stone walls of the inner sanctum, Ta'o was talking with two Na'uhui women, one of whom twisted a lock of white hair around her finger while the other giggled at everything he said and rested her hand on his muscular chest. He looked up and maneuvered himself in front of me, planting one arm on the wall. "What's up?"
"I wanted to see Peyumi." Images of him bare-handed wrestling that four-hundred-pound throat-ripping lizard with three-inch talons to the ground to where she chirped out for mercy flashed through my mind.
"Not a good time, bro." He shook his head.
"Oh." I lowered my eyes. "I don't know if you know what happened…"
He slapped my shoulder, and his yellow eyes smiled with the rest of his dark-green face. "You survived Jungle, bro! You don't know what that means to these people! But seriously, another time."
"When's a good time?"
A shrivelly, old woman's voice came from around the corner. "Is that Caleb of Gath?"
With it, sounds of children chatting hushed, and slow footfalls shuffled through the grass. Ta'o turned to her and answered. "Yes, ma'am."
As short as I remembered, she scarcely came up to my chest, but that permanent smile etched into her wrinkled face filled the world. "I'm so happy that you came by!"
I glanced at Ta'o and back to her. "You are?"
She bent her knee in and touched it with her hand. "Oh!"
I dropped my cane and rushed over to her. "Are you alright?"
Her soft, ancient hands took hold of my arms and she shook her head. "I'll be fine. Come! I need your help with something!"
I held her up, and together we wobbled over to a table where six children gathered around a pile of wooden blocks centered by an iron crucible with glowing red coals.
They looked anywhere from three to seven. Five of the children had the dark-green skin of their Na'uhui mothers and straight, dark-green hair of their Herali fathers. The other, a girl of around five, was pure-blooded Na'uhui like Ta'o and the old woman.
She lowered her voice and craned her face up to speak to me as we walked. "All of these children lost their fathers at that tower the other day."
A jolt shot throughout my whole body. I couldn't face them. Not me. That I survived… it wasn't fair. I shook my head and tried to pull away.
She held on tight to my arm. When I tried to pull away, she doubled over, rubbed her knee, and winced. "Mother! Oh!"
I leaned in close to take hold of her frail arms, and she stood up straight. "Hold my hand."
And so we hobbled over to the table where the children parted for us. There was an array of tools laid out beside an iron crucible at the center of the table that held burning red coals.
She explained. "I bought these tools because I was told they're the same ones your people use to make those beautiful drawings on your bows. But then I realized that I have no idea how to use them! Won't you please show us how it works?"
Geraln's bow was decorated by all of us. Me, Sarina, Davod, Runya, Tor, Talys, Geraln, Guenevieve, Dariana, Ryoen, we each had a part. Talys drew out the words, For every flower, a place to bloom, and I filled them in. Davod drew a picture from The Great Hunt, and Geraln etched the names of some of his favorite books.
It was probably somewhere out in the forest, rotting in the rain.
As for the old woman, she had all the right tools. The straight, curve, needle, flattener, all of them. All the children watched, and so I picked up the curve. It nearly burned my fingers.
"First thing," I said, using a rag to take up all the tools and cool them off for a moment. "This is too hot."
Peyumi brought out a copper kettle and tongs, and handed them to the tallest child, a girl of around seven. "Be very careful," she reminded her.
The girl took one from the crucible and dropped it into the kettle.
"One more," I said. "Who wants to grab it?"
"Me!" A boy of about six stepped forward and took the tongs. He had a few bruises beneath his dark-green skin and an elegant scratch all over his forearm. When he put the second coal away, we put the lid on it
Peyumi added with a nod. "We keep the ones we don't need in here, so we can use them again! And we'll keep this riiiight… over…" and she stood up straight. "Now where should we put this?"
A four year-old girl took the kettle from her and put it on a shelf jutting out from the wall of her mud house.
At least if some enemy warrior took it, it wouldn't go to waste.
By this time, the tools had cooled enough that we could use them, and I showed the children how to use the tiny diamond-tree stone in the handle to mark where to place it on the crucible.
I took one block, picked up the flattener, and showed them how to cover large areas. I showed them how to feather it for a criss-cross texture, and how to hold it upright for a straight line. "This here's the needle. You can make several tiny dots and put them together to make a picture, like this."
I had in my mind a pointillist falcon diving into the jungle, but it took a lot longer than I'd anticipated. All the children watched me put dot after dot after dot into the wood.
Peyumi grinned wide and invited the children. "So each of these tools makes its own shape! Let's see what we can create!"
The scraped-up boy picked up the clover wire and made a bush. I think. Might have been a cloud. The oldest was a mixed girl with dark hair in fine braids, and at the end of each braid was a pea-sized bumble bee in silver and gold. She used the scythe to create water on a large, flat block of wood.
As for whether it was a good idea to let children that age handle fire, Peyumi shrugged. "They'll have to learn that fire is hot at some point."
And if some enemy warrior now carried it, how would they know the story behind it?
The boy who wore his skin laceration with total indifference was making a tree when he glanced his dark-green eyes up at me. "Have you ever seen a bear?"
They all turned to me.
Had I ever seen a bear. I'd come too close to her cubs and didn't back away quickly enough. Davod shot her between the eyes. I should have protected him. It was all my fault. If I hadn't let him out, none of this would have happened.
One of the children was a little girl whose face looked like a younger, sassier version of Aekimi, the girl who apprenticed in the medical ward. Any of them could have been in that alley the day I arrived and lost my money in that card game.
And they were suffering. Ten times what I was going through, they were suffering, and I had to put on a strong face.
Somehow.
I animated my words, hoping to make it sound interesting. "Yes, I have. It's a big, giant, hairy beast with paws the size of your face, and a face like a reeeeeal, meaty dog."
Another girl asked, "is it bigger than a vɪta'o?"
"Bigger, some of them, yeah, but not as smart."
The first boy asked again. "What about a rattlesnake?"
"A rattlesnake?"
"My daddy was half bear, half rattlesnake. He was half-and-half. Like me."
Sargon.
Just days ago he'd sat in the corner, watching as men volunteered for Borel's unit, one by one, until Pu'iyo asked for one more. When she was about to send us off without, he stood. He died in the same attack I ran away from. He had a son. His son was right in front of me.
You're not supposed to run.
He and the other veterans probably didn't run.
I survived while this boy's father was killed.
"Caleb!" The old woman's sharp voice snapped me out of my thoughts. "Does this Falcon look right to you?"
On a light-colored block of wood, a four-year-old girl had burnt a crude stick figure with wings and human legs. It didn't look like Falcon at all.
"That's not bad!" I said. "You know what might really spice it up?"
I showed her the two-sided curve and demonstrated how to taper the rough side to make a feather pattern. She took it with enthusiasm and made an interesting smudge pattern.
One could not say that Borel's final moments were marked with uncanny heroism, but that morning, I admired his wisdom. Ask for volunteers. He didn't want to be in a group of men whose only ambition in this war was to survive and go home. He wanted to make a difference; he wanted men who were there to fight.
At some point, Ta'o turned the corner with a canvas sack slung over one shoulder. He brought it to the table and dumped out a pile of fresh wood scraps.
Ta'o wanted to fight. They wouldn't let him, but he wanted to fight for his home. If I could have a whole unit of men like him, we could do anything.
The Elder of Elders glanced up at him and nodded. "That will be more than enough, thank you so much!"
Then, before he walked off, she turned to the children. "You know, Caleb here wrestled a python!"
"Wow!"
"Cool!"
She added with effervescent joy, "and it was a big one!"
Ta'o laughed lightly before turning the corner.
Sargon's son asked me, "how did you win?"
"I got lucky! That siren bird saved my life."
One of the little ones turned her face to the old woman. "What's a siren bird?"
Before I could answer, the Elder of Elders laughed low and smiled, resting her hand on the child's shoulder. Then she raised her face to the sky and whistled a strange and intricate warble unlike anything I'd ever heard.
Seconds later, an answer came from the trees in the vita'o yard. She whistled again. A moment later, a small brown bird flew up, perched on a wire basket hung from the roof of her hovel, and nibbled at some greasy seed block thing.
She repeated the whistle again, and the bird flew down to perch on her outstretched finger. The bird flexed its wings out into a large arch shape, then spread them wide and walked around in a circle. "This, children, is a siren bird. We say, woðæfifɪða. The females make their nests high in the trees, and do nothing but sit on their eggs and gossip! If you learn to hear them, you'd be surprised what you can pick up."
She pursed her lips as though she were about to whistle again, then spoke instead. "This is how they warn each other about pythons."
Peyumi then whistled low and followed with a high flip downwards—the same call I'd heard right before that snake attacked me. The bird flapped her wings and squawked in protest.
"I'm giving a demonstration, and you know that!"
The bird squawked again and shook her tiny head rapidly. The Elder of Elders then whistled the same call again, three flips. The bird echoed. Peyumi explained. "Remember, children, three flips will try to eat you, four will succeed. Unless you're big like Caleb, here, he'll need at least a five to get eaten." She turned to me. "How big was it?"
"Seven."
"Seven!" Her yellow eyes went wide, and her whole face effused in wonder, mirroring the children's enthusiasm. "ɣʊdʊ gaŋo payiθa!"
I chuckled lightly. "Yes, it was very big."
The four year-old girl asked. "How did you win?"
I had to make it good, so I leaned in and put a special inflection in my voice. "When I heard that bird warning me, I couldn't remember what it was at first. I was afraid, because it was right over me, and I swear it looked right at me. Finally I remembered it meant python. So I immediately dropped my bow and took out my knife."
I showed them the blade Davod forged. One of the little boys reached to touch the blade, so I pulled it back.
"Then suddenly, wham! Something smashed into my face! And before I knew it, I was wrapped up all around by this massive, huge, giant muscle. And while I was getting crushed to death by this snake, some dog tried to rip my leg off! Check this out!"
I showed them the scar on my leg, a cluster of scabs just below the knee. All the children gathered in to take a closer look.
The old woman smirked from across the table. "Which you seem to be walking on just fine!"
She briefly pointed her eyes at the cane I'd dropped, lying in the grass tucked halfway behind a stone building. When I turned back to her, she winked at me.
I told the children about the spider whose lunch I freed. I told them about shooting one of those vudu birds out of the sky, and explained how a scent bomb worked. All the while, the old woman smiled and watched. Ranía's warning rang in my head, and I held back everything from meeting that family of vita'o and after. Even without her warning, I couldn't imagine how to explain what happened.
After a time, a handsome native woman rounded the corner. As soon as she appeared, the four year-old ran up and jumped into her waiting arms with an exuberant smile across her face.
"Ahh, ahh!" Peyumi held up a finger. "We always help clean up first!"
Moments later, two more came to collect their children, and we all helped to put things away. There was a bin beside her mud house where we put the extra pieces, and we put the coals in the kettle with the others. The tools went back in the box they came in. The clover tool was lost at first, but one of the children found it on the ground beneath the table.
Peyumi held up a light-colored block where the native girl had drawn an Escher cube.
I don't think it was supposed to be an Escher cube.
No matter, the old woman beamed at the little girl who'd made it. "May I keep this?"
The girl nodded effusively.
Ta'o came back once more as the last mother led her son away. He gave me a friendly nod before turning to the Elder of Elders. "Shahel would like a word."
Whoever Shahel was, Peyumi squinted and pursed her ancient lips, then thought about it before answering. "Tell him I need a little time, and then he can come."
At that, Ta'o bowed and walked off. Her yellow eyes meandered up and down his back side before he rounded the corner. She turned to me and laughed. "I'm old, not blind!"
We shared a good laugh about that.
"Come. I have something for you."
"You do?"
She bent her venerable frame down to brush the grayed dog behind the ears. He barely reacted but for a deep breath and a shifted paw. Then she led me inside through a doorway I had to duck down low to fit through.
Inside, the scent of citrus filled the space from a copper pitcher atop an iron stove. Those strands of roots hanging from the ceiling seemed swollen from the rain earlier, and the air was cool, a stark reminder that outside was sweltering and muggy—a feature of life at Carthia I'd nearly forgotten.
"Have a seat." She directed me to the same stuffed bag chair I sat upon the last time I was here, and she joined me with a tray of two ceramic cups giving off a healthy head of steam and a plate with four dark-brown shells.
"I promised you the last time you came that I would tell you what this is."
I couldn't help but grin at that. "One of my friends told me. Dokono, is that right?"
"That snitch!" We laughed together at that.
The hard, brown shell melted in my fingers, and when I bit into it, a thick marshmallowy goo exploded in my mouth carrying a faint hint of orange liquor. And if the Emperor could taste this, there would be no shortage of resources to defend this place, surely.
The old woman closed her eyes and basked in one of the treats before facing me. "How are you feeling?"
And with that question, every wall I'd built, every tower, every fortress I'd had guarding the innermost side of my heart crumbled to pieces. I felt horrible. I was destroyed. "I can't do this. It was all my fault. I can't…"
The old woman just smiled. "You're the third person to say that to me, but how can it be all their fault and yours at the same time? The math doesn't add up!"
I sat up straight and thought about that. "Who else said that?"
She cocked one eyebrow high above the other and gazed at me through yellow eyes as though her whole face was to say you know better than to ask.
I took a deep breath and leaned back. "It's difficult. I don't know what I'm supposed to feel. Meeting Sargon's boy, I don't know. I should have stayed back. I should have fought, maybe there was a chance. I ran. Like a coward, I ran. And I'm the only one to make it out alive? It's not fair. I don't understand."
"Mmm," she nodded. "It will take time. How are things with mɪyaŋi?"
That made me feel warm deep inside. The sensation of her arms around me. Blue jumped her to the second floor balcony, and the sight of her face alone made me feel at home. I could look at her beautiful face for hours. The way she talked, her delicious accent as thick as her thighs. "I like her!"
She giggled lightly. "That's good!"
"It's funny," I said. "I felt like I was ready to give that all up. But now, I just… I love thinking about her." I shrugged. "And you said it was the most important thing."
"Do you disagree?"
"Well…"
She rested her venerable hand on my arm. "Let me guess. It's a frivolous pursuit, and you should be focused on more important matters."
I shrugged. "Something like that, I suppose."
"What could be more important than the people we love?"
"It's so crazy. We barely know each other, it's been a struggle just learning each other's language and we're only now getting to where we can actually talk about things.
She leaned in to answer. "There are couples who speak the same language, who spend decades together and never learn to communicate."
Again she smiled at me, gesturing to the two steaming tea cups, equidistant from each of us. I took one, she followed, and she gazed up at the ceiling with a warm smile and a sigh. "Hmm!" she closed her eyes and laughed lightly.
"What is it?"
"There was a man when I was young. He was a pirate—real swashbuckler he was! And oh, he loved a lot of women!"
That made me smile. The tea had a hint of blackberry added to the citrus grass.
"One morning I was toying with his hair while he slept. His beautiful eyes cracked open, and he started telling me stories of his adventures. He told me about these magnificent Sequoia trees that grow around the Agarthan Sea. Have you heard of them?"
"I've read about them."
The old dog wandered in and rested his body at her wrinkled feet. She reached down and patted his neck. "Well, he told me he wanted to take me there. He wasn't serious, of course, but I was. So we sailed together. Such beauty in the world! The straits of Panem, high cliffs on both sides and the waters were treacherous let me tell you! We rounded the coast and sailed all the way north to the mouth of the sea, and we found a small village on the north coast. Caleb, let me tell you. We have trees here in 'uxuwi, I'm sure you've noticed."
That made me laugh.
"Words cannot do them justice. These Sequoia, they're massive, unlike anything you've ever seen. It would take twenty, perhaps thirty people holding hands to wrap around them, and they reach so high above you. It's so beautiful."
"Sounds breathtaking."
"Did you know," she set her cup down and looked directly at me, "that their seed pods will not open unless they're burnt?"
I sipped my tea. "I didn't know that."
"It's true. We think of fire, it destroys everything, consumes everything, leaves nothing but destruction and sorrow in its wake. But look close, and fire brings new life, new hope, new… boundless possibilities."
I was speechless.
"Now," she added, "To follow up, the last time we spoke… uh… oh dear. You know, my granddaughter made me take a memory test the other day."
I smirked. "You told me that joke the last time."
"I diiiiiiid?" Her lips curled into a wry smile.
That made me laugh. She laughed as well, and we both sipped our tea.
Then she nudged the next piece of candy towards me. "I need you to eat your half. If you don't, I'll have to eat it myself."
"Perish the thought!" The second dokono was as sweet as the first, but filled with a tan-colored nutty paste that melted like butter on my tongue.
She smiled wide. "Now. If I recall, we agreed that we would end the war by finding a peace that works for all sides. Tell me, how's that coming along on your end?"
I lowered my eyes. "You know, I haven't even thought about it."
"Well how can you say that's what you want when you don't do anything about it?"
I shrugged. "I don't know… It seems insurmountable. Besides, I'm still getting used to this place. "
She nodded. "That's fair. But I actually thought of something we should probably keep in mind."
"Okay?"
She sat up and raised a finger. "How's this: what if peace for me is my boot on your neck?"
"How's that peace?"
"I find it peaceful."
"It's not peaceful for me!"
"If I can't have my boot on your neck, I can't have peace." She threw up her arms in mock frustration.
I winced hard. "That's… disgusting!"
She raised an eyebrow. "There are a lot of people like that in the world. You may find quite a lot more than you'd think. Fear is a powerful driver. Very powerful. Fear of having less, of being less. For some, the only way to escape that fear is power. I won't feel safe until I control the people who would hurt me, and for some, that's everyone and everything."
I had to think about it. "Does that even work, though? You gain power, but then every time you run into something you can't control, that fear comes back. You need more power. More, and more, and more, until you've consumed the world. It's greed. Greed is fear. Someone like that can never know peace no matter what they do."
The old woman smirked. "But you say, peace that works for all sides. That's one of the sides."
I sat up confidently. "The answer is faith. Faith in God. Trust."
"And how do you impose your faith upon others?"
"You can't."
"Then how can you make that side have faith?
"Well…" I shrugged. In truth, the Emperor imposed the Daenma faith on most of the Empire, and it wasn't pretty. It was one of the reasons so many clans throughout Heralia hated the church I grew up in. "I don't know."
She nodded. "Well, as I always say, if something cannot be done within the existing framework, maybe it's time for a different framework. But the next time you come by, I want to hear your thoughts. Remember, we're working on this together!"
Light from outside suddenly grew dim as Ta'o eclipsed the doorway. The midday sun shone through his white hair giving him a yellow halo, and his features were lost in shadow. "He's here."
"Oh," she shuffled her hands around to stand. "It must be urgent." Then she turned back to me. "I hear they've made you captain. Tell me, what do you think of your team?"
"I don't have a team yet."
"No?" She stooped to pick up the last candy and stuffed it into her mouth. With an elated moan, she closed her eyes and chewed slowly.
I stood. "Yes, the… important people think it best to hold the new recruits at the Lake of Doom until talk of what happened at the Tower dies down. Until then, I have Renou, and that's it."
The Imperial Voice came into view. He was a tall Goloagi gentleman with a mat of curly hair and a chiseled, squarish jaw. He passed his medium-green eyes up and down at me with a nod. "Caleb, Jungle-Tested of Gath."
Peyumi giggled lightly and tapped his arm. "Please come in! It's so good to see you, Shahel."
"Shahel?" I said.
He wore a black silk loincloth with the crescent moon of Carthia embroidered in silver thread, and his feet were barefoot as the natives. He raised an eyebrow at me briefly, turned to the old woman, bowed his head low, and the two of them went into the dim world of her hovel.
My heart was overcome with a certain fullness I couldn't describe. To my left and my right, gray and yellow stones reached into the sky with men pacing the ramparts beneath the clouds. In the distance, thunder heralded a coming storm.
I rounded the corner and saw Ta'o talking to a young woman who'd stopped and dropped a bag full of grain to the ground beside her. His body was toned from his muscular thighs to his shoulders, his ripped stomach and back; there was no mistaking his strength. From the way he handled Fluffy, he could clearly manage himself in a fight, yet he carried himself with enough charisma to disarm just about anyone.
He turned to glare at me as if to burn the question of what I was looking at into my soul.
I answered him. "I want you on my team."
He pulled his face back in disbelief. "Huh?"
"Yeah. Uh… I mean, I'm asking. Would you join my team?"
He chuckled out loud with a wide smile. "I'd love to, bro, but you know they won't allow that."
"Who?" I asked. "Who won't allow it?"
"Princess Rosalynd, and you're never going to convince her."
I grinned back. "Yes, I will."