Vessel

None of them spoke much as they journeyed on.

With three of them capable of magic, they did not need to stop for longer than it took to rest themselves and the horses. The miles flew by.

After only two days of travel, Liyana saw the silhouette of the oasis, black against the bleached blue sky. Soon she saw the outline of tents. She increased her horse’s speed to a trot and then to a canter. Sand bloomed under Gray Luck’s hooves. The others followed.

As she got closer, she saw people between the familiar outline of tents. She felt her mouth go dry, and she drank in the view. Goats bleated. She saw children run to the edge of camp and point. By the time she was close enough to see faces, men and women had joined the children.

“Mother! Father!”

Liyana dismounted before Gray Luck halted. She landed on her knees, and then she scrambled to her feet and ran toward her parents. She ripped off her head cloth so they could see her face.

“Liyana!” Jidali shoved through the adults and ran across the sand. She dropped to the ground in front of him, and her little brother leaped into her arms. “Is it you? Is it really, really you?”

“It’s me,” Liyana said.

Jidali hugged her hard.

She heard a moan sweep through the clan like the wind. A few wailed. Others turned away. Vessel, perhaps you should tell them that I am here as well, Bayla suggested.

“Not just me, though,” Liyana said. “Bayla is inside me.”

Talu elbowed and pushed to the front. She fell to her knees in front of Liyana and touched her face. “My goddess? How . . . how is this possible?”

“I have a story to tell you, to tell all of you,” Liyana said. She rose to her feet. “But first, this is Korbyn, god of the Raven Clan, and this . . . this is Maara, goddess of the Scorpion Clan.”

Chieftess Ratha approached. “We bid you welcome to the Goat Clan. Join us for the sharing of tea.” She signaled to several boys in the group. “We will tend to your mounts.” Ger and two other boys ran up to claim their horses.

Wordlessly Father embraced her. She buried her face in his shoulder and breathed him in. She felt as if she were inhaling every memory of her childhood.

“Good to see you found our pack,” Mother said.

Jidali tugged on her sleeve. “Did you use my knife?”

“Your knife saved our goddess,” Liyana said. She took his hand, and he squeezed with all the strength in his small fingers. “Come, I’ll tell you everything.”

Jidali skipped next to her. “We found your bells! We buried them under the largest palm tree for your funeral. I got to say the burial prayer. I didn’t miss any words!”

“Um, that’s wonderful, Jidali.”

Several people wanted to touch her as she passed, as if to reassure themselves that she was not a dream. A few bowed. Others kept their distance, as if she were dangerous. The master weaver blocked her children with her broad skirts.

Liyana was swept toward the council tent. Blankets were laid outside in the shade of the tent walls, and tea was served. Korbyn and Maara sat on either side of her, and Jidali positioned himself by her feet and would not move.

Fanning out around her, the clan quieted.

All of a sudden she could not think of what to say. Squeezing her hand, Korbyn smiled encouragingly. For once, she was certain that he was seeing her, not Bayla.

Begin with this, Bayla said. On the day she was to die . . .

“On the day she was to die,” Liyana said, “a vessel woke to see the sun. . . .”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

With Bayla, Liyana filled the well. Korbyn caused the dates to ripen. Maara drew various rodents, snakes, and birds to the camp for meat. After feasting with the clan, Korbyn and Maara were led to guest tents, and Liyana was given her old sleeping roll in her family’s tent. She collapsed into her blankets and was asleep instantly.

She woke to the smell of flatbread cooking on the family fire pit, and for an instant she thought she’d dreamed it all. I missed that bread, Bayla said.

Liyana sat up.

“Ooh, you’re awake!” Aunt Sabisa bustled toward her. “You have been using your hair as a nest for rodents and birds.” She whipped out a metal-toothed comb.

Liyana shrank back. “Isn’t that the goats’ comb?”

“You have goat’s hair.” Aunt Sabisa stabbed it into the thick of Liyana’s hair and yanked. “Hold still. Bayla will thank me for this.”

Please thank her for me, Bayla said, amused.

Relaying the message, Liyana winced as Aunt Sabisa tugged on a clump of hair. “Are Korbyn and Maara awake?”

“Both went into the chief and chieftess’s tent an hour ago.”

Liyana stood up with the brush dangling from a clump of hair. “I should join them!”

“Sit down, Liyana, I’m not finished. You do not need to join them. You talked enough yesterday. Let them speak their fill.”

Out of habit Liyana obeyed. She felt Bayla’s amusement bubble inside her. Clearly, Liyana said, you have never tried disobeying Aunt Sabisa.

“Is it true what you said last night?” Aunt Sabisa asked. “She is inside of you?” She wiggled the brush through a thick snarl.

“Yes, of course,” Liyana said. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Except for the time you sneaked a slice of my pie.”

“I was six.”

“And the time you borrowed my finest scarf without asking.”

“Four years old.”

“And when you let the goats out of the pen.”

“Maybe a bit more recently,” Liyana said, “but in fairness, it was an accident.”

“And then there was the incident with the chickens. . . .”

Bayla’s laughter felt like a spring of bubbles. You are beginning to lose credibility with me. Liyana realized she had never heard her goddess laugh.

“I have never lied about anything important,” Liyana said, smiling.

Aunt Sabisa laid down the brush. “Then do not lie to me now. Am I dying?”

Liyana could only gape at her. “You . . . you look well. Have you been sick?”

“I have pains.” She held up her hand, and she demonstrated closing her fingers to her thumb. Her hand shook, and the thumb barely grazed her other fingertips. “I suspect it is age, but I worry it is more.”

Look inside her, Bayla said. Liyana felt a tendril of magic flow into her. She held Aunt Sabisa’s shoulders and let her awareness wash over her aunt.

What do I look for? Liyana asked.

Anything that is not your aunt. You will know it when you see it.

Liyana swept through Aunt Sabisa’s body. Blood flowed through the veins. Some veins had thick walls. One had lumps. But the stream still continued through. Her lungs had flecks inside, like soot from the fire. Liyana snaked down her intestines.

Suddenly Liyana flinched at the touch of coldness from within Aunt Sabisa. A spiderlike spread of cold flesh clung to the insides of her intestines. What is it?

Death, eating her.