Word Puppets Read online

  He nodded and Mehahui wrapped her felted skirt back around her waist. Her hands shook when she tucked in the ends of the fabric. “Will you tell Kahe? I can’t.” She pulled her hair away from her face, securing it with the tortoiseshell pins Kahe had given her for their fifteenth anniversary. She tucked a red suhibis flower behind her left ear so her married status was clear—not that she needed it. Everyone in the united tribes knew Kahe.

  Iokua tugged at his graying doctor’s braid. “As you wish.” He paused to pick up the sandalwood surgeon’s mask and settled it on his face. The image of the goddess hid his worry behind her fragrant, smooth cheeks. Carved filigree of whale bone formed the mask’s eyes, giving no hint of the man beneath.

  He pushed aside the hanging in the door of the hut. Outside, Kahe was pacing on the lanai. He stopped, face tightening like leather as he saw the surgeon’s mask, but he came when Iokua beckoned him.

  Mehahui could not say anything as she took her husband’s hand. The scars on the inside of his wrists stood out in angry relief.

  Iokua bowed formally. “Your wife has a tumor in her abdomen.” The mask flattened his voice.

  “Can you cut it out of her?” Kahe sounded like she was still strangling him.

  “No.” The surgeon’s mask was impassive. “I’m sorry.”

  Despite her husband’s touch, Mehahui felt herself shrink into the far distance.

  “How long does she have?”

  The mask turned to her, cold and neutral though the voice underneath was not. “I suspect Mehahui will know better than I.”

  And she did know. Underneath the constant ache in her belly, the mass hummed with the goddess’s power. She had known she was dying, but until today she had been afraid to prove it.

  Kahe grasped her hand tighter. “Mehahui?”

  Blindly, she turned toward him. “Weeks. Maybe.”

  As soon as they were alone, Kahe said, “Why didn’t you tell me?” When had the soft curves of her face turned to planes?

  “You would have tried to heal me.”

  Hia dealt out the power to kill but was more sparing with her willingness to heal. She would grant a life only in exchange for another. Kahe could have healed Mehahui, could still heal her, but only if he were willing to be taken to Hia’s breast himself. And to do that would leave the king without a sorcerer.

  He stood and paced the three strides that their tiny house allowed. The pili-leaf walls pressed in on him and his throat still felt tight. After all the times Mehahui had nearly killed him, only now did he feel the impact of death. He went over the list of poisons in his kit. “Makiroot acts slowly enough that I could work spells for the king until it was time to heal you. I’d be stronger than I am from strangling, so—”

  “Stop. Kahe, stop.” Mehahui clutched the sides of her head. “Do you think I could live with the guilt if you wasted your death on me?”

  “It wouldn’t be a waste!”

  “Will you look beyond me? Paheni is being invaded. The South Shore Tribe have allied with the Ouvallese and we are overwhelmed. Hia has given us this gift and—”

  “A gift!” If the goddess presented herself right then, he would have spit in her face.

  “Yes, a gift! It’s like Hia and Pikeo’s Crossroads all over again. Can you imagine a better meeting of death and luck? It’s not as if I am a common housewife—I’ve worked at your side; I know all the spells but I’ve never had the power to cast them. Hia gave me this so we can win the war.” Mehahui held out her hands to him. “Please. Please don’t take this from me.”

  Kahe could not go to her, though he knew she was right. Her power would only grow, as his mentor’s had at the end of his life. In short order, she would surpass what he could do, and the tribes needed that to turn the tide in their favor.

  But he needed her more. “How long do you have? Think deeply about it, and Hia will tell you the time remaining.”

  Mehahui’s gaze turned inward. He watched her, sending a prayer to Pikeo for a little bit of luck. Hia’s brother could be fickle, but Kahe no longer trusted his patron goddess.

  “Eighteen days.” Those two words shook Mehahui’s voice.

  But a tiny seed of hope sprouted in Kahe. “That might be enough.”

  “What? Enough for what?”

  “To get you to Hia’au.” Pilgrims from every tribe went to the goddess’s city to die, and sometimes—sometimes Hia would grant them the power to heal with their dying breath.

  Mehahui looked at him like he had lost his senses. “But we lost Hia’au to Ouvalle.”

  Kahe nodded. “That’s why we have to win this war quickly.”

  King Enahu’s great house, despite the broad windows opening onto a terraced lanai, felt close and stifling with the narrow thoughts of the other kings who had gathered to meet with him. Kahe’s knees ached from kneeling on the floor behind Enahu.

  King Waitipi played with the lei of ti leaves around his neck, pulling the leaves through his fat hands in a fragrant rattle. “We are sorry to hear of your wife’s illness, but I fail to see how this changes any of our strategies.”

  Kahe bent his head before answering. “With respect, your majesty, it changes everything. Mehahui will be stronger than me in a matter of days. What’s more, she can cast spells at a moment’s notice. We can take the battle right to the Ouvallese ships and handle anything that they cast at us.”

  “I’ll admit it’s tempting to retake Hia’au.” The bright yellow feathers of King Enahu’s cloak fluttered in the breeze. Across his knees lay the long spear he used in battle as a reminder of his strength.

  King Haleko said, “I, for one, do not want to subject our troops to another massacre like Keonika Valley.”

  “I understand your concern, your majesty. But the Ouvallese only have one full sorcerer from their alliance with the South Shore tribe. With Mehahui’s power added to mine, we can best them.”

  “Of course I do not doubt your assessment of your wife’s power”—King Waitipi plucked at a ti leaf, shredding it—“but it seems to me that the South Shore tribe is making out much the best in this. Should we not reconsider our position?”

  So many kings, so few rulers.

  King Enahu scowled. “Reconsider? The Ouvallese offered to let us rule over a portion of our land. A portion. As if they have the right to take whatever they wish. I will not subject my people to rule by outlanders.”

  “Nor I.” King Haleko nodded, gray hair swaying around his head. “But this does raise some interesting possibilities.” King Haleko’s words raised hope for a moment. “Would the infirm in our hospices offer more sorcerers?”

  “You would find power without knowledge. Hia’s gift only comes to those who study and are willing to make the sacrifice of themselves.”

  “But your wife—”

  “My wife . . . ” Kahe had to stop to keep from drowning in his longing for her.

  In the void, King Enahu spoke, “The lady Mehahui has studied at Kahe’s side all the years they have been in our service.”

  Kahe begged his king, “This war could be over in two weeks, if you let us go to the South harbor. It would not divert troops; only a small band need come with us. No more than ten to protect us until we reach the South Harbor where the Ouvallese are moored. We could wipe them out in a matter of minutes.” And then, though he would not say it out loud, he could take Mehahui to the Hia’au and pray that one of the dying in the goddess’s city would heal her.

  King Enahu scowled. “Pikeo’s Hawk! You’re asking me to bet my kingdom that your wife is right about how long she has to live. What happens if we extend ourselves to attack and are cut off because she dies early? Everything is already in place to stop Ouvalle’s incursions into King Waitipi’s land. I need you there, not at the South Shore.”

  “Well.” King Waitipi let the lei fall from his hand. “You’ve convinced me this merits more discussion and thought. Let us consider it more at the next meeting.”

  Kahe slammed his fists on the fl
oor in front of him, sending a puff of dust into the air. “Eighteen days. She has eighteen days. We don’t have time to wait.”

  The men in the great hall tensed. Kings, all of them, and disrespect could mean a death sentence.

  Half-turning, Enahu let his hands rest on the spear across his knees. “Kahe. You are here on my sufferance. Do not forget yourself.”

  Trembling, Kahe bit his tongue and took a shallow breath. He bowed his head low until it rested on the floor. “Forgive me, your highness.”

  King Waitipi giggled like a child. “You are no doubt distraught because of your wife’s condition. I remind you that she will find grace with Hia no matter the outcome of our meetings.”

  Kahe knew that better than any king could.

  But to wait until they made up their mind was worse than trusting Mehahui’s life to the hands of Hia’s brother god, Pikeo—luck had never been his friend.

  If they did not decide fast enough, he would take Mehahui and go to the goddess’s city without waiting for leave. He tasted the chalky dust as he knelt with his forehead pressed against from the floor. Leaving his king would mean abandoning his tribe in the war.

  Surely Hia could not ask for a higher sacrifice. Surely she would spare Mehahui for that.

  Mehahui could not remember the last time she had seen a crossroad instead of the usual roundabout. Most people went out of their way to avoid invoking the gods with crossed paths, connecting even forest tracks like this with diagonals and circles.

  She half expected Hia and Pikeo to materialize and relive their famous bet.

  A cramp twisted in her belly. Mehahui pressed her fist hard into her middle, trying to push the pain away. It was clear which god would use her as a game piece if they appeared. Doubling over, a moan escaped her.

  She tried to straighten but Kahe had already returned to her. “Are you all right?”

  Mehahui forced a laugh. “Oh. Fine. Hia’s gift is being a talkative one this morning.” She unclenched her fist and patted him on the arm. “It will pass.”

  “Can I do anything?” He caught her hand and squeezed it. Every angle of his body spoke of worry.

  “Just keep going.” Mehahui wiped her face. Her hand came away slick with sweat, but she smiled at her husband. “See. It has already passed.” She pushed past him onto the main road to Hia’au

  As if she had said nothing, Kahe took her hand and pulled her to a stop in the middle of the crossroad. “You should take something for the pain.” He knelt and fished his sorcery kit out his pack.

  Amid the ways of dying lay the remedies. Some spells needed a long slow death and he had poisons for that. Others needed the bright flash of blood flooding from the body, and he had obsidian knives, bone needles, and sinew for those. But all of the deaths brought pain. Mehahui had nursed him back from all of them. The painkiller had been one of the most faithful tools in her arsenal.

  She held out her hand to accept one of the dark pills from him. “Thank you.”

  A drumming sounded on the main road, heading toward the harbor.

  She dropped the pill. A queasy tension in her belly held Mehahui rigid. Three creatures came into view—men whose bodies were twisted into something like massive storks with four legs. Her fear raced ahead of her mind and she had already begun to back away from the road before she recognized them as men riding horses, the exotic animals the Ouvallese had brought with them from overseas.

  Warriors, clearly, and wearing the green and black Ouvallese colors—outriders, returning to the main band. If the gods were replaying their age-old game, then this unlucky chance was clearly Pikeo’s move.

  Which had more influence on mortal lives: Death or Luck? Would Hia win again in her battle against her brother?

  The man in front saw them and shouted. She could not understand his words, but his intent was clear. Halt. Kahe placed his hand on his knife.

  In moments, the three riders had cut them off, pinning them in the middle of the crossroad. The one who had shouted, a small effete man with blond curls showing under the bottom of his black helm, pushed his horse in closer. He pointed at Kahe’s knife.

  “Not to have!” His Pahenian was slow, as if he spoke around a mouth of nettles.

  Kahe glanced at the other riders. “I don’t understand.”

  The blond pointed to the ground. “There. Put!”

  Kahe nodded and reached slowly for the tie of his knife belt.

  Despite the shade of the trees, heat coursed through Mehahui. The knot in her stomach throbbed with her pulse. Hia could not have brought them to this crossroad only to abandon them.

  She looked around for an answer. The soldier closest to her lifted a bow from his saddle. Without giving Kahe time to disarm, he pulled an arrow from his quiver. Aimed it at her husband. Drew.

  “Kahe!”

  Her husband flinched and turned at her cry. Before he finished moving, the arrow sprouted from his cheek.

  Mehahui shrieked. The soldier turned to her, bow raised.

  Kahe flung out his hand and a palpable shadow flew through the air to engulf the soldier. His face was visible for a moment as fog in the night, then he vanished.

  Blood cascaded from Kahe’s mouth down his chest. He staggered but raised his arms again.

  Spooked by its rider’s disappearance, the soldier’s horse reared and came down, nearly atop Mehahui. She danced back and grabbed at the dangling reins, trying to stop the bucking animal.

  Ignoring her, the other two soldiers closed on Kahe. She flung the same spell she had seen him use, sucking a living night into being.

  In that moment of inattention, the horse crashed into her, knocking her down. A hard hoof slammed against her belly.

  Mehahui rolled, frantic to get away from the horse’s plunging feet. Fetching up against a trunk at the side of the road, she struggled to get air into her lungs. Dear goddess, was this what Kahe felt when she strangled him?

  The hard crack of metal on obsidian resounded through the forest. Kahe somehow had drawn his knife and met the remaining soldier’s blow, but the glass shattered on the steel.

  Mehahui pushed at the ground, but her arms only twitched. The bright pain of Hia’s gift flared in her belly, almost blinding her. Her thighs were damp and sticky.

  The soldier raised his sword again to bring it down on Kahe’s unguarded neck.

  Mehahui cried out, “Stop!”

  It was not a true spell, but the soldier stopped. His arm, his horse, everything froze in mid-motion.

  Kahe shuddered. Then, he slipped sideways and fell heavily to the ground.

  The soldier, a statue in the forest, did not move.

  Mehahui crawled across the dirt road to her husband. The pain in her stomach kept her bent nearly double. Her skirts were bright with blood.

  Something had broken inside when the horse had knocked her down.

  No matter now, Kahe needed her. During the years of aiding him, she had seen almost every form of near-death and learned to bring him back. She grabbed the smooth leather sorcerer’s kit. With it in her grasp, Mehahui set to work to save him.

  The arrow had entered his cheek under his right eye, passing through his mouth and lodging in his jaw opposite. Kahe was bleeding heavily from the channel it had cut through the roof of his mouth, but she knew how to deal with that.

  Shaking, Mehahui turned him on his side, so he would not drown in his own blood. She broke the arrow and pulled the shaft free. Then with a pair of forceps, she tried to pry the arrowhead out of his jawbone. The forceps slipped off it. She gripped it again, but her hands shook too much to hold it steady and his mouth open. If she could not get it out, the wound would suppurate and Kahe would die despite all her efforts. Again, she tried and gouged his cheek when the forceps slipped.

  Mehahui looked at the sky, tears of frustration pooling in her eyes.

  The frozen soldier still stood in arrested motion. His cape stood away from his body showing the bright gold seal of the Ouvallese king on the field of
dark green. A bead of sweat clung to the edge of his jaw in unmoving testament to her power.

  She did not need the forceps. She had Hia. Praise the goddess for giving Mehahui power when she needed it most.

  Mehahui focused on the arrowhead and sent a prayer to Hia. Channeling the smallest vanishing spell possible, she begged the arrowhead to go. For an instant, a new shadow appeared in Kahe’s mouth and then blood rushed from the hole where the arrowhead had been.

  “Praise Hia!”

  The other wounds would answer to pressure. From the kit she took pads of clean cloth, soaked them in suhibis flower honey and packed them into the wounds. When all was tied and tight, Mehahui looked again at the soldier. There was no time to let Kahe rest.

  She held smelling salts under his nose and braced herself for the next task.

  Kahe retched and his world exploded with pain. Every part of his head, his being, seemed to exist for no reason but to hurt.

  He tried to probe the pain with his tongue and gagged again. Cloth almost filled his mouth.

  “Hush, hush . . . ” Mehahui’s gentle hand stroked his forehead.

  Kahe cracked his eyes and tried to speak, but only a grunt came out. Bandages swaddled his head and held his mouth closed.

  “You have to get up, Kahe. The rest of the warriors will be coming.”

  Battalion. He had to get up. Kahe could barely lift his head, and somehow he had to stand. With Mehahui’s help, he rolled into a sitting position.

  A soldier stood over them. His sword was raised to strike.

  Kahe tried to push Mehahui away from the man and fell face forward in the road. All the pain returned and threatened to pull him back into Hia’s blessed darkness.

  “It’s all right! He’s—he’s frozen.” Mehahui helped him sit again.

  He looked more carefully at the soldier. The man’s cloak had swung out from his body, but gravity did nothing to pull it down. Kahe did not know of a spell that could do such a thing.

  He looked at Mehahui. The shadows under her eyes were deeper. In the hollows of her cheeks, the bone lay close beneath her skin. Blood coated her skirts and showed in red blotches at her ankles.