The silver Mask of Nama-kwah showed features of serene, other-worldly beauty to which mortals might aspire, but could never hope to attain. Layers of lacquered scales hung like beaded braids from the back of the Mask to a point well below its wearer’s shoulders.
Tiyana held her pose a moment longer.
Where are you? she asked for the last time.
There was no reply from Nama-kwah.
Mustering her determination, Tiyana thrust her fears into the background of her mind. And she began to dance on the waves.
Nama-kwah dwelled in her own Realm, an ocean-beyond-the-ocean in the world-beyond-the world. She had withdrawn from her worshippers after the Storm Wars, much of which had been fought in her part of the Beyond World. The after-effects of the war plagued her even now, and she had every reason to retreat completely to her Realm, and leave the mortals in the Beyond World to live out their short lives. Yet once in every tenth or twelfth human generation, a Vessel would be born with whom Nama-kwah could speak from afar. On the time scale of immortality, the Vessels flickered briefly, then died, like candles in a rainstorm. Still, Nama-kwah cherished the contact, even though the Jagasti had long ago vowed to remain apart from a world that the misuse of their power had changed too much.
Yet now the sense of danger she felt was so great, so potent, yet it was a danger she could not define ... and she was going to have to give up even her limited access to her latest Vessel. There was the need for a warning before she finally abandoned the contact.
Nama-kwah moved her silver-scaled limbs through water that shone from within rather than above. And she reached outward from her Realm.
Tiyana moved her body with practiced ease as the music of the Calling embraced her. She spun and whirled as though weightless, and her feet hardly raised a ripple on the harbor’s surface. The soft sunlight of morning turned the filaments of her costume into strands of silver fire and the diamonds into tiny stars.
Beneath the Mask, Tiyana’s brow furrowed in deep and desperate concentration. The Goddess had always guided her movements in the past; now she was alone as she had never been before. One misstep, even the slightest imperfection, and she would have to answer not only to Nama-kwah, but also to her father, whom she loved and feared in equal measure, and to whom she had devoted her life after her mother died several years before. Her parents had borne no other children; all of Gebrem’s hopes for the future rested on her slim shoulders.
For all the attention Tiyana focused on her movements, however, discerning eyes could detect that all was not right with her dance. Her movements were graceful, but there were also slight moments of hesitation, of doubt. And those moments dispelled the illusion that it was Nama-kwah herself dancing on the waves, rather than her vessel.
Issa turned to Dardar Alemeyu.
“What is wrong with her?” she asked. Her concern was genuine; Tiyana was only a few years younger than she, and the two women had long been friends.
The Emperor shrugged, and Issa looked away.
Alemeyu wished Tiyana no harm. But he had despised her father as long as the two had known each other, which was all their lives, and that sentiment was heartily reciprocated. If the deficiencies in Tiyana’s performance continued, Jass Gebrem’s prestige would be sharply diminished. And that would please the Emperor.
At Alemeyu’s side, Makah began to growl ... a low, almost inaudible rumble. The cheetah remained motionless, but her growling continued. No one other than Alemeyu noticed. And Alemeyu saw no significance in the sound.
In the harbor, Tiyana continued her dance, struggling to maintain her focus on staying above the surface. Then Nama-kwah spoke to her in a voice that was not loud; only a whisper that was the barest shade of sound.
Danger ...
That single word cost Tiyana her concentration. The ashuma that held her aloft vanished like smoke. The substance of her air bubble disintegrated with a loud, popping noise. With a cry of consternation and a loud, ignominious splash, she fell into the harbor.
The moment Tiyana sank beneath the surface, the music halted abruptly. The Callers stood open-mouthed; drummers’ hands hung motionless; flutes remained silent. Soldiers shifted their weapons, and a low murmur of dismay ran through the crowd, carrying even to the people who were too far in the back to have seen Tiyana’s fall, but could still understand the alarm they heard.
Only the Ishimbi statues remained unmoved by the unprecedented calamity that had compromised the ceremony.
Jass Gebrem’s face contorted in anger and mortification as he stood on his platform, hand clenched tightly around the abi.
How could she do this to me? he raged silently.
The Leba leaned forward and peered through the mist in search for a sign of his daughter, concern and anger warring inside him. When Tiyana’s masked face broke water, the Leba opened his mouth to berate her – then snapped it shut when he saw the shadow looming in the mist directly behind her. It was the prow of a ship – a ship far larger than any seacraft that was moored in the harbor ....
Nama-kwah never waited to determine whether or not her Vessel had received the warning she sent. Already, she could sense the coming of a menace unlike any she had known since the days of the Storm Wars.
She shook her head, and scaled tresses swirled through the water. What was to come would be a matter for the people of the Beyond World. It could not be controlled by her ... not without the other Jagasti, who had no interest in intervention.
Turning away, Nama-kwah swam deeper into the border between the ocean of Khambawe and
