This is an installment in a serialized novel. To start at the beginning, go here or navigate from the Table of Contents.
As soon as daylight woke her, Rahn climbed over the roof to escape the coldness she felt from her father and stepmother even as they slept. The water was gone, leaving only a damp smell and a muddy mess everywhere.
Rahn began to walk, unsure where she was heading. The hawk had flown off to hunt. Rahn’s feet automatically pulled her eastward toward the foothills. She should take the goats back up to graze... But Azayan’s command resonated in her mind, as clearly as she had heard them in the House of Vision.
Seek the tomb where the first king lies
Seek the ancient Binder
Take the gift from the Binder’s hand–
the power to deliver
Rahn had no idea what any of that meant. Azayan had been so earnest– but did she know what she was saying? Maybe she hadn’t been in her right mind?
No, Rahn thought bitterly, she’s the only one in this cursed place who’s in her right mind.
If Azayan thought it was important, it was. But Rahn had no idea what to do with the cryptic command. She had to talk to someone she could trust.
With Azayan incapaciated, that was a short list. Maybe Huki? Rahn briefly considered, then rejected the idea. Huki was more someone you could trust to be good natured while they insulted you, or to make you laugh so hard that you didn’t mind how irresponsible they were.
That left Ufsa. Even though he had been wed to Azayan for three years, Rahn had never spoken much with him– he was not a man of many words. But Azayan trusted him completely, and he had always treated Rahn with respect. And last night he had seemed to understand something of what was happening to Azayan.
She found him outside his sister’s house, working to remove a pile of debris that the flood had deposited in front of the door. In his usual way, he simply nodded in greeting.
“Have you seen Zaiza this morning? How is she?” Rahn bent to pick up a branch and toss it out of the way.
“The same,” he said, running two fingers across his forehead in thanks for her help with the brush. She wondered if he’d slept at all, the way his eyes looked. “But she told me yesterday that her spirit will return when her work is done.”
“What work, Ufsa? What is she doing?”
He shook his head. Rahn could see that, like her, he trusted Azayan, but he didn’t understand.
“She told me something too, Ufsa.” And she let the words tumble out of her mouth, about some evil force trying to break free, about finding the tomb of the first king, and the Binder and a gift, and going to the great city, and how Rahn didn’t know what any of that meant, or what she was meant to do, and how she was sure she was the wrong person to do it, and that she needed to tell somebody who could actually handle this mission because it seemed important.
Ufsa was silent for a few moments after this, clearing the brush. When he spoke, it was with care, considering each word. “Azayan spoke to me yesterday. And she spoke with some of the elderwomen. She did not tell us these things. She did not give us this task. What Azayan does, she does with reason.”
Rahn growled in frustration. “But Ufsa, can’t you see that there’s no possible reason that I could be the best person to do this–whatever it is! Of all the people in this tribe, I’m the only one without the Sight. I mean, I’ll go look for some dead king’s tomb if I have to, if no one else will do it, but only because I hate this place anyway, and because for better or worse, I love Zaiza enough that I’m willing to believe her stupid bird visions.”
Ufsa gave a small smile. “Maybe that is why she chose you.”
Rahn put her face in her hands.
There was the sound of crying from within the house–Azayan’s baby, and maybe one or two of Ufsa’s sister’s children as well. Ufsa looked at Rahn seriously. “Azayan did not ask me. She knew that my place is watching over her, and with our son. I do not understand, but she is doing what she must. I will do what I must. Do the same, Nerahnen.”
“But… I don’t understand what she wants me to do! Where am I supposed to go?”
Ufsa considered briefly. “Azayan spoke of the great city and the tomb of a king. In the old songs, the Veyta monarchs ruled from the city of Yanat. I guess most of them died where they lived. And it is still the largest city I know of.”
“Yanat? I’ve heard of it in songs, and from the traders… But where is it? All I know is that it’s far away.”
“Across the plains to the north. I do not know the way. But of course, many traders pass through Sabzoras, three days out. Probably some there know the way. If I were you, I would travel to Sabzoras and seek a way to Yanat from there. That is all the advice I can give you. Good luck, Nerahnen.”
And with a final nod, he turned and entered the house.
Ufsa’s words were too much for Rahn to process. She really should see about the goats, she thought. So she trudged slowly eastward through the settlement. After a concerted effort to rebuild after the raid, the place was a mess again. Mud and debris were everywhere, a few houses had collapsed, and a small sinkhole had opened up in the middle of one of the lanes. But despite the early hour, many people were out, already working to make repairs and clean up. As she passed, Rahn endured the usual mix of averted eyes and cold stares.
She was approaching another partially collapsed house on her right. Was that…? Yes, it was Batsa’s house. She had seen him sitting on the roof just last night! The water had washed away the ground under one side of the foundation, causing the whole structure to tilt heavily to the side. Some part of her enjoyed picturing Batsa sitting on the roof while that happened.
“What are you smiling at?” Rahn jumped. There was Batsa himself, emerging from behind the sunken house, looking dirty and disheveled. The expression on his face was pure hatred. Suddenly fearful, Rahn lowered her gaze and began to walk quickly away from the scene, feet sticking and squelching in the mud. She heard sticky footsteps behind her. A glance over her shoulder confirmed that Batsa was following.
“Run, sprana,” he said.
She ran. Or at least she attempted to–the mud clung to her boots, resisting every movement, and the road was strewn with debris. She could tell he was gaining. She cut through a line of houses, tramping through a ruined garden, and ran back in the direction of her father’s house. A rock struck her on the shoulder. She ducked and dodged, but another struck her back. Curse these ashavela and their good aim! But her father’s house was close– if she could just make it…
She tripped over a fired clay bedpan–hopefully full only of mud–that lay half-buried in the middle of the way. Rahn turned on the ground to face her attacker, now more mud-covered than not.
Batsa approached, another rock in hand. “Can’t you see, sprana, that you are a bad luck charm? Do you know what they say about you?”
“I don’t know, Batsa, I try not to listen to stupid people. That’s why I avoid talking to you.”
He lifted the rock, and Rahn raised a muddy arm.
“They say this place is cursed because of you,” Batsa continued, “that as long as you’re here, the disasters will keep coming. The only reason you’re still here is because of the new Mother, and now even she’s cursed because of you.”
“That’s not true,” said Rahn, but her voice strained as she spoke.
“Then where is she to protect you now?” Batsa threw the rock.
But the stone curved in flight, sailing past her and sinking harmlessly into the mud. Batsa looked momentarily surprised, and then Rahn saw that he was looking past her. She looked around. There in front of the house stood her father, green eyes the color of mountain pines. As a girl, she had imagined that her eyes would be that shade after she was Sighted. That she would one day become an ashavela like her father.
“Go home, Oshbatsa,” he said, quiet but commanding. For a moment it was unclear what would happen, but as Rahn picked herself up and made for the door, Batsa did not move to stop her. Her father entered after her. He barred the door, then glanced out the window and nodded.
Then his eyes met Rahn’s.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
He shook his head, looking away. “He will be back, you know, when he thinks no one is watching.”
“I know,” said Rahn.
“And there are others who think as he does.”
“I know.” She paused, then let the words come free. “Do you think that way, Father?”
He averted his eyes, a pained look on his face. She didn’t wait for his answer.
“I am going,” she said, “out west, to Sabzoras.” And she was surprised at the certainty she felt about it. “I’ll just get my things.”
He did not reply or ask questions. But she saw him watching as she moved around, gathering some food and what few things she had that might be useful. As she added them to her bag, he approached her, bearing a newly-made waterskin–a large one of resined goatskin.
“The plains are merciless,” he said, motioning with his head toward the west, “Always point your feet toward water.”
Rahn drew her fingers across her forehead in thanks, taking the waterskin.
The hawk was waiting for her outside the door. She turned one last time back to her father. “Tell Huki that the goats are his job again. And if he finds my tent and bow in the foothills, he can have them.”
He nodded.
And so with no further ceremony, Rahn found herself walking away from the settlement in the still-soft light of morning, a pack on her back and the hawk circling overhead. For some time now she had known that this moment would come, and she had imagined that it would be somehow more dramatic. But there was no one there chasing after her with raised fists, no one weeping and calling out last goodbyes. Instead, there were only her footsteps on the earth, carrying her slowly away from what had once been her home.