Текст книги "Vessel"

Автор книги: Sarah Beth Durst

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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

Chapter Twenty-Five

At dawn Sendar cared for the horses: curried them, trimmed them, and examined every inch of their flesh for abrasions and sprains. Thinking of Fennik, Liyana wondered if Sendar cared for his people that much. She scolded herself for criticizing a deity. But it was difficult not to, now that she had met Sendar, Maara, and Oyri.

Oyri hadn’t stopped talking since she’d woken at dawn. “I shall require a bath when we reach our destination, Sendar. Do your horse people know how to prepare a proper bath? I have sand on my skin, and it is terribly abrasive.”

Liyana wished she could tune her out. Instead she returned to Raan’s side. Earlier she’d woken as Maara but then she’d lapsed into unconsciousness again. “Raan, can you hear me? Are you still there?”

She heard footsteps behind her. She twisted around and saw the horse god studying her with narrowed eyes. “We should take Maara with us,” Sendar said to Oyri. Fennik’s jocular voice was chilled when Sendar spoke.

Oyri nodded. “Indeed. I do not trust that their motives are properly aligned.”

Liyana felt a hand grip her wrist. She looked down to see Raan’s eyes open, beseeching her. “She comes with us,” Liyana said. Raan’s grip loosened.

Oyri continued as if Liyana hadn’t spoken. “While Maara and I have had our differences, I believe it is the duty—”

Inform Oyri that Maara will accompany us, Bayla said.

Liyana repeated Bayla’s words and then asked silently, Truly? She felt hope flutter inside her. Perhaps Bayla was not unsympathetic to Raan . . . or to Liyana.

Oyri echoed her thought. “Truly, Bayla? What if this human of yours contributes to her downfall? Would you wish another to suffer your fate?

Repeat my words: I do not believe it is in the best interests of the Scorpion Clan to be beholden to the Silk Clan. Liyana repeated Bayla’s words. And, Oyri, if you ever think of expanding to the Goat Clan, I will personally render you deaf as well as blind.

Oyri gasped. “I would never!”

Once, the salt worms roved the desert freely. . . .

“Once, the salt worms roved the desert freely,” Liyana began. She knew this story. She continued without prompting. “Everywhere the worms tunneled, they tainted the sand with salt. Living things withered, and the desert was laced with trails of death. Maara of the Scorpion Clan saw them approach the hills, and she sent her scorpions to sting the salt worms until they fled. Some burrowed deep below the rocks, never to rise again. Others retreated to the plains, creating the salt flats, never to leave again.”

You know your tales, Bayla said, sounding pleased. It would please Oyri greatly to cause the Scorpion Clan to leave their hills and beg for mercy from the Silk Clan. Liyana repeated that out loud.

Sendar raised both eyebrows at Oyri. “Is this true?”

Oyri opened her mouth and then shut it like a fish.

“Maara stays with us,” Korbyn said firmly. “And you would do well to remember that the clans are one people. Perhaps your blindness will open your eyes to that.”

“Let us ride, Sendar. I can no longer abide our present company.” Oyri held up her arms like a child, and Sendar lifted her onto one of the horses.

Sendar mounted his own horse. He held the reins of Oyri’s horse. “You will see that your horses are well cared for.” It was a command, not a question. He was leaving them with the three desert horses and taking the two empire horses—either out of kindness or a certainty that they could not care for the nondesert horses. Regardless, Liyana was grateful that Gray Luck was one of the horses he was leaving. “Remember: We must intercept the army before they enter the mountains. Do not be late.”

“As I recall, I wasn’t the one who was slow to the finish line,” Korbyn said.

The two deities rode away without a farewell. Sand plumed in their wake and then wavered in the heat. Liyana and Korbyn watched them until they shrank to specks in the distance. “There is a reason why most deities are loners,” Korbyn said.

“Everyone will put aside their differences to face the invaders,” Liyana said. She pictured the emperor, a most polite invader.

How sweetly optimistic, Bayla said.

Practical, Liyana corrected. For all our differences, there is one thing the clans have in common: the desert. We’ll fight for it if we have to.

I think that may be the first thing you have said that I agree with, vessel.

Liyana and Korbyn secured the unconscious Raan to a horse. Taking her reins, Liyana climbed onto Gray Luck. Korbyn led the extra horse. They rode west.

At midday they camped.

While Korbyn located food, Liyana sat beside a clump of cacti, intending to fill the leaves with water. She began to breathe evenly, trying to calm her thoughts so she could picture the lake.

Oh, let me, Bayla said.

Power flooded into Liyana. She gasped and reached out to the cacti. Instantly it plumped with water. She then reached out further, and every cacti within a hundred yards of the tent filled with water.

That was a lot of magic, she said as mildly as she could manage.

Indeed, Bayla said and then fell silent.

The goddess stayed silent as Liyana collected the cacti and extracted their moisture, filling their waterskins and setting a pot with tea leaves to boil. Korbyn returned with several desert rats. As they fell into the comfortable rhythm of preparing food, Liyana relaxed. It almost felt like it used to, just her and Korbyn. She watched him out of the corner of her eye as he cooked dinner. After a few minutes, she noticed that he was sneaking glances at her as well. She wondered who he was looking for, her or Bayla. He offered her a strip of meat. Their fingers touched briefly as she took the meat. They stared at each other.

Ask Korbyn if he remembers our first meal together.

Liyana asked him.

“Of course I do,” he said, looking back at the fire. “She dared me.”

I do not like to be spoken of in the third person, Bayla said. I am here.

Liyana repeated this. Still stirring the fire, Korbyn said, “You told me you would poison me for stealing Sendar’s horses, and you dared me to eat with you.”

“You stole horses?” Liyana asked.

“Only a few,” Korbyn said. “I wanted to teach them to fly.”

He said it as if that were a sensible reason. “Did it work?” Liyana asked.

Clearly not, Bayla said. Do you see any horses flying across the desert?

“Almost,” Korbyn said with the trace of a smile. “All right, no, it didn’t. Even with hollow bones and a significantly reduced mass, the required wingspan was impractical. But I did create a flying rodent.”

I always hated your bats, Bayla said, and Liyana felt a wave of fondness roll over her.

“Bayla had . . .” Korbyn looked at her and corrected himself. “You had prepared a meal with dozens of sauces and flatbreads for dipping. There was spiced wine. And you had made baked chocolate for dessert. You said that if I ate with you, I would worship you and be in thrall to your every whim. I replied that there was no magic that could enslave a man’s mind.”

And I said, “Yes, there is.”

Before Liyana could repeat Bayla’s words, Korbyn said, “And you said, ‘Yes, there is. There are women.’ ”

I poisoned you with love.

“Per your request, I returned the horses in the morning,” Korbyn said. He reached toward her, and his fingers brushed Liyana’s cheek. “Bayla . . .”

Liyana turned her face away. It felt hard to breathe. Her heart was a fist inside her rib cage. She felt her hand tremble. Liyana wasn’t causing it to move.

Why do you value this ephemeral human? Bayla asked. We could be together! Liyana’s hand reached toward Korbyn.

Clamping down on her wrist, Liyana thought at Bayla, You will be together in the Dreaming for all eternity. Please . . . A shudder wracked her body as Bayla tried to force her hand to move again.

“In my nightmares I search and cannot find you,” Korbyn said, cupping her face in his hands. His eyes searched hers. Feeling his touch on her cheeks, Liyana remembered all the nightmares she had calmed over their journey. I’m keeping him from her, she thought, deep where Bayla couldn’t hear. She felt her insides twist with guilt.

Raan moaned. Her eyelids fluttered open. Both Liyana and Korbyn peered at her. Raan smiled broadly. “She weakens!”

Maara.

Liyana recoiled. “It isn’t necessary to sound so gleeful about it.”

“Her presence is an unnatural offense,” Maara said. “One soul per body. And we take priority—our magic will save an entire clan.”

“Bayla has worked magic with Liyana,” Korbyn said. He gestured to the cacti.

Maara fixed her eyes on Liyana with an expression that said she thought Liyana was worse than a venomous snake. “You’re still here. Bayla, the key is to disorient her so badly that she cannot focus. Then push the areas where she’s weakest.”

Liyana felt chilled. “You’re torturing your vessel.”

Korbyn squeezed Liyana’s hand. “Bayla.” He stared into Liyana’s eyes. “Please. If you love me . . . do not harm Liyana. We will find a way to be together.”

Bayla was silent for a long while. At last she said to Liyana, You do not kiss him again.

Liyana started. I wouldn’t . . . I mean, I . . . She stared at Korbyn’s lips and remembered how safe and warm she had felt in his arms—how right it had felt and how wrong it was. Never again, she promised her goddess.

* * *

By midday the next day Maara had lost control to Raan. Liyana and Korbyn carried Raan into the tent. She’d woken as herself while they rode but had been unable to move. They laid her down onto the blankets.

“I still cannot feel my legs,” Raan said.

“What can you feel?” Liyana asked.

“Hands, but not so much fingers. It’s tough to turn my head.”

“How about your lungs? Any trouble breathing?”

“I can feel myself breathe, but not deeply,” Raan said. Tears leaked out of her eyes. Liyana wiped her cheeks for her. “I think I am slipping away, Liyana. I can feel her, nesting in my body. She has more control, doesn’t she?”

“Can you hear her?” Liyana asked. “Does she talk to you?”

“She’s never spoken to me. I didn’t think . . . I never thought my goddess would hate me. Why does she hate me? Is it so wrong to want to live?”

Korbyn knelt next to her. “Concentrate on your breathing. Let’s see if we can regain some control. Inhale, and feel the air expand your lungs.”

As Korbyn worked with Raan, Liyana slipped out of the tent. She needed to fetch both food and water so Korbyn wouldn’t have to. She scanned the desert around them. Away from the border, the land was desolate. Still, a few stubborn plants gripped the dry earth.

Maara does not hate Raan, Bayla said quietly. I do not hate you.

Liyana did not know how to reply to that. She wasn’t certain she believed her. Locating a tuber plant, she sat beside it. She touched the brittle stalklike leaves. I’m ready for the magic.

She waited while Bayla’s presence receded. Since Liyana didn’t need to be in a trance while Bayla fetched the magic, her thoughts drifted to Korbyn. He didn’t want her dead—he’d made that clear—but she wished she knew what he was thinking when he looked at her, and who he saw.

The power flooded into her. She shut off her thoughts and worries, and focused instead on the tasks at hand. Fattening, the tuber ripened. She shifted her awareness to the next tuber. It plumped. And another. She then dug the ripe tubers out of the sand and carted them back to the tent. Silently she poked her head in. Korbyn was deep in concentration, and Raan lay still, either sleeping or unconscious again. Liyana entered and stretched out beside her.

Raan’s eyes opened.

“Maara or Raan?” Liyana asked.

“Korbyn helps the vessel. Why?”

Maara. Sitting up, Liyana wrapped her arms around her knees. She studied Raan’s face, trying to see a hint of her friend within. “The vessel’s name is Raan. And why don’t you ask her? She says you haven’t spoken to her.”

“She is a body,” Maara said.

“She’s a person,” Liyana said. She spoke softly so she wouldn’t disturb Korbyn, though she wanted to shout. A thought occurred to her. “I think . . . perhaps you are afraid of discovering that.” Inside, she felt Bayla listening. “If you admit she deserves to stay in her body, then you have to admit that all those deaths of all those vessels in all the generations before were unnecessary.”

“I act for the good of my clan,” Maara said.

“I am proof—”

“You are an abomination!” Maara sat up, and Liyana scooted backward. She hadn’t imagined that the goddess had so much control over the body already.

Korbyn’s eyes snapped open. He sagged and then caught himself. Leaving Maara, Liyana helped him lie back on the blankets. He clutched her arm, but she hastily withdrew as if his touch burned. “Are you all right?” she asked. “What were you doing?”

“Contacting the deity of the Dog Clan,” he said.

“You can do that?” Liyana asked.

“It is similar to the summoning chant,” Korbyn said. “I fill words with magic and send them across the desert. It is an awkward way to converse but sufficient for emergencies.”

“And did he reply?” Maara asked.

“He’s in his vessel with his clan, but he refuses to join us. Once again my reputation precedes me. He believes it’s a trick.”

Stubborn idiot, Bayla said. We do not have time for this. The clans need to mobilize now! Let me send words to the imbecile. Her tone left no question as to what kind of words they would be. Vessel, you will aid me. Liyana repeated Bayla’s offer.

Korbyn shook his head. “They won’t trust you either. Apologies for tarnishing your good name, my love.” He smiled wanly at her, and Liyana knew he was smiling at Bayla. She tried not to feel a pang at the word “love.”

“They would trust me,” Maara said. “But I cannot use magic while the vessel remains. For though I control the limbs, she retains primacy.” She slapped her thighs hard enough to bruise them.

“Yet another reason you should talk to Raan,” Liyana said.

“Yet another reason she should vacate this body,” Maara said.

Liyana felt Bayla sigh. Tell Maara she needs to work with her vessel. Stumbling over the words, Liyana repeated this. She didn’t dare ask what this meant for herself.

Maara narrowed her eyes. “Was that truly Bayla?”

Does she want me to share about the time the scorpion became besotted with the butterfly? Liyana repeated this as well. Once, in the days when death was new—

“Very well,” Maara interrupted. “I will speak with the vessel.” She closed her eyes.

The tent fell silent.

Liyana wanted to talk to Bayla. She searched for the words and failed. She glanced at Korbyn, wishing he would speak and break the silence. She tried to remember the last thing he’d said to her, not Bayla. She wished she could hear him laugh again. “Your clan will be happy to see you,” Liyana ventured. It wasn’t much of a conversation starter, but at least it was something.

Korbyn shrugged. “Perhaps. They were fond of this vessel.”

“Oh.” Liyana lowered her eyes and watched Maara, who lay silently in her blankets with her eyes closed. “But you didn’t know.”

“That doesn’t make it right,” Korbyn said.

After waiting another half hour, they tied the unresponsive Maara to a horse and continued on. There were still several more days of travel ahead of them before they would reach the oasis where Liyana had first met Korbyn. From there it would be several more days to Yubay—if her clan was even there.

Would you like to see where they are? Bayla asked softly. If you wish, I will feed you the magic.

For a moment Liyana was robbed of a reply. She never expected such a kind offer from Bayla.

They are my clan as well.

After a moment Liyana felt the magic fill her. She let her awareness spill outward. She felt Gray Luck moving in a steady stride beneath her. She felt the sand and the wind and the heat. She felt the plants scattered across the sand, and the insects that hid in their centers. She touched the birds of prey and the rodents. She brushed past the sky serpents as they soared above. She shied away from the sandstorms with their howling hearts. Fueled by the goddess’s magic, she reached much further than ever before. All the while, the tether to her body continued to stretch.

As she spread, she became aware of the people: their souls pulsing all over the desert, grouped in areas where she also felt water. She touched the oasis where her family had camped and where she had left the silver bells—and she touched the souls of hundreds of people. Her clan!

Retreating back to her body, she felt Gray Luck still plodding along beneath her, and the sun battering her skin again. That was the oasis where I was left behind. Only my clan uses that oasis. She’d see them soon!

You were left behind? There was shock in Bayla’s voice.

You didn’t come. Liyana tried not to let the pain of the memory seep into her thought. Her clan had done what they’d believed was best. They thought you’d rejected me and that you’d forgive them if they exiled me.

I would never—

How were they to know? You didn’t come. She tried not to sound as if she blamed Bayla.

She felt Bayla churn inside her. The traitor Mulaf must be stopped.

I want the same, Liyana said.

You are suggesting a truce between us.

Yes.

Bayla was silent. At last she said, Tell me about our clan. It has been many years since I was one of you.

As they rode, Liyana told stories about her childhood, about Jidali and Aunt Sabisa, about her cousins and her parents, about Talu and the chief and chieftess, about the master weaver, about the goatkeepers and the herds. Bayla continued to prod her for more and more, and so Liyana fed her memory after memory.

When she was midstory about the time she and Jidali had raced the weaver’s boys up the date palm trees, Raan woke with a jerk. She sat bolt upright, and the startled mare reared back. Raan was tossed forward into the horse’s neck. Korbyn slid off his horse and grabbed the reins of Raan’s horse. He steadied her.

Sitting upright with ease, Raan dusted the horsehairs off her robes—or more accurately, Maara did. Raan hadn’t had much physical control in days. This had to be Maara. “I hate horses,” Maara commented.

“Did you speak to your vessel?” Korbyn asked.

Maara sighed. “She is alarmingly like me.” The goddess did not meet Liyana’s eyes. Instead she focused on her horse’s ears. “Tonight she and I will attempt to reach the other clans together.”

At dusk they pitched the tent and tended to the horses. Once all was set, Maara lay down inside the tent, and Liyana and Korbyn joined her.

“You two aren’t going to stare at me the whole time, are you?” Maara asked. “Because that might make it difficult to focus.”

Maara, you should allow the vessel to have primary control of the body while you draw power from the lake. Channel it to the vessel. Surprisingly, this allows you to draw more power with less fatigue since you do not have to hold the body simultaneously.

It does? Liyana asked. She knew she was more powerful with Bayla, but for Bayla to be more powerful with her . . .

Bayla’s voice was so soft that Liyana could barely sense it. It has been my observation that we are more effective together than not. Quit wallowing in self-satisfaction, and repeat my instructions.

Liyana obeyed, and Maara closed her eyes. Her back arched and then spasmed, and then her eyes popped open. “Oh, oh, I can feel my legs! And my fingers and toes!” Raan.

Liyana squeezed her hand. “Welcome back, Raan.”

Raan smiled at both of them. “Walk me through what I’m supposed to do.”

“Maara will fill you with magic,” Liyana said, “and you use that to spread yourself. You don’t even need to enter a trance! You’re going to love it. It’s a tremendous feeling.”

Raan rolled her eyes. “Korbyn, explain it, please. Clearly.”

Korbyn talked her through what she should envision. She’d be expanding her consciousness exactly as Liyana had done to locate the Goat Clan.

“You can do it,” Liyana said. “Just make sure you maintain awareness of your body.” She tucked blankets around Raan and propped up her head so she’d be comfortable. “Do you want to eat first? Cactus? Baked rat? Tuber cakes?”

“As mouthwateringly tempting as all that sounds, no,” Raan said. “I want to get this over with. I’m not supposed to be mentally wandering the desert. It’s unnatural.”

“You sound like Pia,” Liyana said. She meant to say it lightly, but she couldn’t say Pia’s name without her voice cracking. Oyri never had the chance to speak with Pia and know how amazing her vessel truly was.

“Let’s do this,” Raan said. She closed her eyes.

Liyana watched Raan’s chest rise and fall in a slow, even rhythm. Korbyn leaned back and rested his eyes. Liyana supposed he had the right idea. There was nothing for them to do but wait. Bayla?

Yes, vessel?

I told you about me and my clan. What about you?

There was a pause. I do not know what you mean.

Tell me about yourself.

She felt Bayla’s reaction: startled at first and then a rush of pleasure. I have so many memories, the goddess mused.

Pick your favorite.

Bayla told her of the time she saved a chief and chieftess’s son over a thousand years ago. One week before he should have been born, his heart quit. It had not formed properly. And so Bayla used magic to finish its growth, but because his body had died, there was no soul in his tiny, unborn body. So she reached into the Dreaming and retrieved a soul for him. With his reincarnated soul, he became the very first magician.

She followed this with another tale of divine heroism, and then another.

Korbyn said he makes you laugh, Liyana said. Tell me about a time that you laughed.

Once, Korbyn masqueraded as a donkey. He attended an assembly of the deities with an ass’s head on his shoulders. Such a gathering is a rare, solemn event. We create a vast amphitheatre in the Dreaming made of stone steps with cascades of desert flowers and the music of hundreds of birds. Speeches traditionally wax poetic. Every time one of us said something he considered untrue or arrogant, he brayed. I laughed until my sides hurt. It also became one of the most productive gatherings we have ever had.

Raan’s eyes popped open. “I lost her.”

“Raan?” Liyana asked.

She sat up. Liyana felt her heart constrict. She’s not Raan.

“I lost her,” Maara repeated.