The other lands a-2 Read online

  The creature, responding to the motion of several of the crossbowmen, who were setting up to take aim, spun around. Its mouth fell open, hissing, and the plumes along its neck bristled forward, framing its head in a violet, feathered mane. The creature shook its torso savagely, stepping forward as it did so. The knobs on its back cracked away and unfurled to either side. The motion was so rapid and dramatic that it sucked the words of command out of Mena's mouth. Wings! It did have wings! They rolled out as if the bones were joints of a curled whip unfurling. Each short length of bone snapped into place with an audible cracking and popping. It took only a second or two, but in that time the creature was completely transformed. Its wings stretched out above the tree height, enormous and delicate at the same time. The wing bones were finger thin, a skeletal frame that supported a membrane so diaphanous that Mena could see the world through it. It leaped into the air.

  "Shoot!" Mena found her voice again. "Stop it from escaping! Shoot it now!"

  Crossbow bolts flew up after it, cords trailing behind. Several missed. A few snagged in the trees. One punched through the creature's wing membrane. Two slammed into its belly. One sank deep into the flesh of its thigh. Another nicked its neck. The creature lost its upward momentum. It hovered for a moment, a confused target into which another bolt sank home. The creature arched against the pain. Its mouth gaped as if it were roaring, but no sound came out. It slammed its wings down with force enough to snap branches and send oranges raining down. The one stroke lifted it up, pulling the lines secured to it. The ropes snapped taut, yanking the stones from the ground. The anchors crashed through branches and bounced off tree trunks. One knocked a soldier from his feet. Another smashed an arm that had been upraised against it.

  Mena yelled for them to fall back, but most were already diving for cover, running down the hill, hiding behind trees and in hollows to wait for the rock anchors to pull the beast down. That had been the plan: to weight the animal with so many stones that it could not fly, or could not fly far. They could then kill it at leisure, safely. When she thought it wingless, Mena had modified the plan, thinking a less numerous team could get close enough and then essentially capture it the same way.

  For a few moments during the wing-flapping chaos Mena thought the plan was working, but with each wingbeat the creature seemed to gain strength and resolve. It strained against the ropes, yanking them through the branches. It would soon clear the trees. She shouted for more bolts to be shot, but the crossbowmen were struggling to reload while keeping their eyes upon the moving beast. She would have taken a shot herself if she had a bow. Something else caught her eye. The creature's tail hung near the ground. It snapped and curled and stretched beneath the flying form, like a living rope looking for a hand to grab it. So that's what Mena did.

  She walked forward and grasped it in a clenched fist. She did not exactly plan to. It was so near, so easy to do. She did not think, but some part of her imagined she might hold the creature down. The narrow tip of the tail curled around her wrist, almost playfully, as if it had a mind of its own and would tickle her. She noticed this even amid the motion, even though it lasted only a few seconds.

  That's all the time she had before she was yanked into the air. She knew then-as the earth fell away beneath her churning legs-that neither the stones nor her body weight was nearly enough to keep the creature earthbound. It soared upward, taking her with it.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The messenger sent by Sangae Umae had surprised Kelis every day since they began their overland journey together. Naamen had dashed out of the camp in Halaly at a pace that Kelis was sure he would not be able to hold for long. But he had. Kelis had thought himself still in his prime; but midway through his first day he had cause to doubt it. The older man kept abreast of the younger only by digging deep into his running memory finding the rhythm, and searching for the quiet meditative space that he had tapped to help him through his longest runs, like the one he took at Aliver's side in search of the Santoth.

  While Aliver had been largely a silent companion, Naamen was inclined to chatter. He made observations on the landscape, talked of random memories, asked questions, and then seemed content to answer them himself. It had frustrated Kelis at first; he suspected that the adolescent was purposefully trying to distract him and to demonstrate that the work did not even wind him. But by the third or fourth day Naamen's voice had become a feature of the journey, inseparable from the pounding of their feet and swing of their arms and the slow unfurling of the land through which they kicked their dusty progress.

  Outside the Halaly lake region, the plains baked beneath a dry sun that oppressed the land, as if the heat were a heavy blanket pressing down on the world. Umae, which they passed near, had always been arid, but such heat was unusual this early in the season. Across the flat stretch of land to Denben they found water only in a few wells, the rivers like dry scars cut in the earth by some meandering knife. Along the busy route between Denben and Bocoum it was easier to forget the plains, especially as the roads often took them within sight of the Inner Sea. Still, Kelis knew that things were not right in his homeland. The foulthings were one sign of it but not the only one.

  Naamen was just as adept among the urban bustle of Bocoum as he was running across open expanses. Kelis followed the young man as he slipped through the crowd with the fluidity of an eel through a coral reef. The city, sprawling along the coastline for buttressed miles, was technically the seat of government control of the province of Talay, although with the region's tribal variation any central control was loose. More fundamentally, it was the agricultural and commercial hub of Talay. It thronged with merchants and traders and craftsmen; with foodstuffs, warehouses, and luxurious estates. None of these things interested Kelis. He did not really feel at home hemmed in by walls and buildings and crowds, and considered the flaunted wealth of the townsfolk to be obscenely extravagant. In the past, he had always breezed through the city, engaged in some errand or another. He did not intend this trip to be any different.

  "Here it is," Naamen said, motioning with his stunted arm.

  It took Kelis a moment to sort out what he meant. They had come up one of the high streets of the city center, a busy corridor lined with multistoried buildings. Working their way forward, Kelis picked out the carved image of a lion on a crest above the gatehouse entrance at the end of the lane. It was the Ou lion. It was hardly an original totem animal, but it was distinctive in that the figure stood upright on a body that looked more human than feline. The head, however, was massively maned, the cat's mouth opened in an everlasting roar. It could have been a secondary entrance to an Acacian palace, such was the grandeur of the carved granite archway. Two guards stood at attention at either side, long pikes set on the ground before them and stretching to spear points well above their heads.

  "You would think they were royalty," Kelis murmured.

  Naamen turned and set his mirthful eyes on him. "Oh, yes, and, believe me, the Ous do think themselves royalty. You need not bow before them, though. Not yet, at least."

  The guards held them outside the gate for several minutes, until a secretary met them. He curtly dismissed Naamen, then led Kelis through the elaborate interior gardens, around pools of fish and under palms, between rows of flowering bushes. Inside the main building, the extravagance continued. For Kelis-who had spent most of the last several years in camps, sleeping on mats with bare ground beneath him-the tapestry-hung walls, the incense-heavy air, the rich carpet underfoot, and the dark crimson and gold of so much of the furniture closed in on him like some elaborate trap. He had to breathe deeply to disguise his racing heartbeat and his desire to run away.

  The secretary left him in a room filled with couches and ornate chairs, directing him to sit and relax. Kelis eyed a couch, draped with zebra skins. He did not sit. Instead, he moved out onto the balcony and sucked in the salt-tinged air. The Inner Sea stretched out to the horizon, the green waters dotted with sailing vessels of all sizes and
shapes. In the distance great trading barges sat on the water, looking like oddly geometric islands. Leaning on the railing, Kelis took in the sweep of the harbor below, the coastline crowded with rank upon rank of white-roofed buildings. The structures were built so tightly together they looked like a throng jostling to tilt themselves into the mirror that was the sea.

  How many people lived in this city? Kelis had no idea. Likely, the number would mean little to him anyway. How very different it was from a village like Umae, where he could name every adult, and every child could name him. That was the size of community that felt right to him. He wondered again why Sangae had summoned him here.

  "The harbor of Bocoum on a summer's day," a man's voice said, startling Kelis. He turned and saw a man of about his age, richly dressed in an ankle-length blue robe, approaching him. "It is magnificent, don't you think?"

  "Yes," Kelis said. It was not exactly a lie but close.

  "Good." The man smiled. His face was handsome and broad featured in the way of northern Talayans. He was as tall as Kelis, lean as well, although somewhat more bulkily muscled around the chest and shoulders. He was not a runner. He was fit in a different way and carried himself with confident grace. Seeming to remember formality all at once, he bowed his clean-shaven head. He said, "New friend, the sun shines on you, but the water is sweet."

  "The water is cool, new friend, and clear to look upon," Kelis answered. The words came to his lips automatically.

  "It would be nice if these words were true, wouldn't it? Sometimes I fear our greetings have mostly to do with what we wish the world was and little to do with how it actually is." Considering the luxury of the building they were in, Kelis wondered what this man had to complain about. "I am Ioma. Sinper Ou is my father. In his name I welcome you, Kelis of Umae. My father and Sangae will be here shortly, along with the one we would have you meet." He gestured toward the tray a servant had just laid on a small table. "Please, drink."

  The clear glass pitcher contained a chilled juice, frozen enough that it clunked as the servant poured some into a glass. Kelis held the tumbler in his hand, watching the vapor rise off it. He had no idea how they managed to cool it so. Nor did he wish to ask. He touched it to his lips and sipped. It was too cold, unnaturally so.

  "It is a wonderful view, isn't it?" Ioma asked. "Our ancestors looked out upon this harbor for generations before the Acacians planted their first fort on Acacia. Whether or not Acacia chooses to remember this fully is another matter, but we should not forget. That's even more important now. See over there?" The merchant extended his robed arm and pointed.

  It only took Kelis a moment to pick out the structures he was indicating. Lower down the cliffs, near the eastern rim of the bay, was a conglomeration of large, richly painted buildings with garish spires like plump, sparkling red bulbs of garlic.

  "The King's Academy." Ioma said the official name with disgust. "Should be called the queen's institute for the forgetting."

  "You don't care for it, then?"

  Ioma nudged him in the shoulder. It was an act of familiarity that would have seemed rude had his host not made it so casually. "Do not joke with me, friend. You know the purpose of that place? It's not education at all. It's limitation. They say they pick the brightest students from each of the provinces. So why is it that those 'brightest' students always happen to be children of prominent families? Why do the children get selected even when the parents have not offered them for consideration? I know you serve the Akarans; I don't wish to make an enemy of you." He paused as if considering how at risk of that he was, and then shrugged and went on. "But you're Talayan as well. That place is a hostage camp. First and foremost, those children are hostages. Second, their minds are scrubbed clean of the truth and filled with the history of the world as Corinn wishes them to know it. Two of my nephews and a niece attend, a cousin also. They tell me all about it. At least it's here in Bocoum. That's something. My family members are hostages only during the day. At night we are free to uneducate them."

  Kelis did not say anything, a fact Ioma acknowledged by pursing his lips. "Perhaps I speak too freely. You see, Kelis, I feel already I know you. But I see that I am not as well known to-Oh, here they are now! Prepare yourself for a surprise, my friend."

  Three figures approached them through the maze of furniture that cluttered the room. Sangae had been an old man for most of Kelis's life, but he wore his age like an unchanging garment. He was still a slim man-a great runner in his time. His simple garment wrapped his torso and was slung over one of his shoulders.

  Sangae embraced him. "It has been too long, my son."

  "Yes, Father, but the Giver is kind," Kelis responded. Sangae was not actually his father, but in the village of Umae the terms son and father had always been used liberally. The other man was clearly Ioma's father, Sinper; they had the same facial structure and physique. The older man wore his hair cropped short around the ears, but it bloomed fuller on top, dusted with gray. Sinper was cordial in greeting him, though he did so with his chin raised and eyes heavy lidded in a manner that made it clear he expected Kelis to offer him the deference usually reserved for chieftains.

  Looking over his shoulder as the old man gripped him, Kelis saw that a woman had followed the two men. Seeing her stirred something in him. There were things in her face that he remembered. The wide, smooth forehead; the large eyes separated by the gentle bridge of her nose; her lips full and shapely, held in the pucker that was traditional for Talayan women in formal situations. Part of it, as well, was that her beauty reminded him of an emotion: envy. It was that emotion that marked his realization of who she was: Benabe, one of the many young women who had pursued Aliver as he grew into a man.

  "Benabe," Kelis said, "the moon hides in your eyes."

  "No," she said, "that is the sun in yours, which simply reflects in mine."

  The greeting completed, Ioma took Kelis by the arm and led him to a couch. They all sat, sipping the chilled drink as servants set a table with small bowls of pickled cabbage and tiny squids, fish eggs on triangles of hard bread. For a while they chatted with no particular direction to the conversation. This was normal enough, really, but Kelis could barely contain his curiosity. He half wondered if he would have to wait until he was alone to find out, and he more than half wondered if the young woman, so quiet as the men spoke, had some role in whatever had brought him here.

  Sinper asked Kelis about his battles with the foulthings. He seemed honestly interested in the beasts but also in Mena Akaran. Was she really as fierce in battle as they say? Was it true that she had killed a many-eyed lion beast with her own sword? Could she truly keep pace with Talayan runners when on the hunt? Kelis answered with plainspoken honesty each time.

  "So you admire her?" Sinper asked.

  "There is much to admire."

  "And what of her sister?" Ioma asked.

  "Queen Corinn," Kelis said, "I do not know that well."

  Ioma grinned. "She doesn't run barefoot beside our men, does she?"

  "No," Kelis acknowledged.

  Ioma sat back. "That would be something to see. I would pay silver to watch our queen run a footrace. She would have to leave her fine dresses at home, but I wouldn't mind that either."

  The comment was made lightly, but for a moment afterward nobody spoke. Sinper looked sourly at his son, but then seemed to accept that a topic of some import had been reached, even if awkwardly so. He cleared his throat. "We are not here for idle chatter. You know that. Nor will we lower ourselves with base jokes about the queen." He slanted his eyes at Ioma, who looked away, contrite as a boy, for a few seconds at least. "No, I will not trivialize her with such things. In truth she is not trivial, is she? In truth she is a woman of power."

  Kelis nodded. That fact hardly needed his confirmation.

  "Sangae has told me that you have no fondness for her policies. You see her as clearly as we do, and you know-as we do-that she has betrayed Talay. She has betrayed all the people who followed Aliv
er and defeated Hanish Mein. You agree with all this, don't you?"

  This time Kelis did not nod, but neither did he disagree. The old man took this as affirmation. "Why, then, do you serve her?"

  "I am at peace with my heart. I don't determine what the queen does. I can only act-or not-as Kelis. That is what-"

  "So you claim that you will only ever do noble work for her?" Sinper asked, the slow cadence of his voice becoming faster, sharper. "What of when she asks something else of you? How do you refuse? How do you say no, when you have so long been saying yes, yes, yes?"

  "What would you have me do?" Kelis snapped, suddenly angry at the old man. Who was he to lecture, and why did Sangae allow it? "This is a world ruled by lions. To the greatest lion goes the spoils, goes everything that it demands. Right now, Corinn Akaran is that lion."

  "Lioness," Sinper corrected.

  "Do you never doubt her?" Ioma asked.

  "I live with doubt every day."

  "I as well," Sangae said softly, drawing Kelis's eyes up to his. "Do not think me a traitor to Aliver because I doubt his sister. The prince was a son to me. You know that. I raised him at his father's request and I loved him as if his blood were mine."

  Sinper cut in. "But we do not speak of Aliver. Not yet. Corinn is the one who concerns me. She has broken our noble families and tries to poison the minds of our children against their parents. She didn't stop the league from taking more of our children away. Her crimes or oversights are too numerous to name. She gave us water, yes, but that is not enough, and it was late in coming. My worries about her have become as a tumor lodged in my breast. Any day it might grow to kill me. I would cut it out, but I don't have a knife sharp enough. At least, I did not have such a knife…" He dropped his voice at the end of the sentence, leaving it frayed and incomplete.