Finally Thunder had furled ša’s jagged pinions and drawn the clouds away, bringing Sun to dry wet garb and warm their skins. But with it had come their first clear dark. With it, Stars.
Našobok hadn’t known, then.
To Tokela’s credit, he’d lasted some time. Perhaps such fortitude had miscarried, merely allowed this… whatever-it-was to build. Or perhaps the drug that had made Tokela so pie-eyed on Galenu’s cart had lasted just long enough and no more.
Had Našobok realised, he’d have found some before they ventured the dryLands plain. For now, he could only hope they’d run into a yakhling caravan.
“Better here,” Tokela husked. “Grandmother at my back. You as shelter. Always, you try to shelter. Only this time you can’t. I’m so sorry.” He let his eyes close, lashes inky shadows amongst the fading, indigo-and-clay Marks stippling his cheekbones. “Are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Sorry.” The forlorn twist beneath snarled the breath in Našobok’s lungs, sent his heart into small, shattered pieces. “That you came for me.”
“Never. I’m here. We’re both here. You’re not alone.” He meant it, yet couldn’t help the tiny thrill fissuring up his spine as Tokela gave another shudder, eyes rolling. No longer his—or perhaps his in a twisted, extraordinary way—a gaze of white squall, light and murk shifting and twisting, Stars reflecting ever on, down and in.
At times like this, it was easy to believe Tokela had been sired by Chepiś.
Našobok tightened his grip and bent closer, shadowing those eyes from Starlight with his body and the long, ebon fall of his hair. “Make talk with me, Tokela. Stay with me.”
“Can’t.” It was a gasp.
“Then”—Našobok bent closer, breathed the talk against Tokela’s neck—“ask me.”
“Won’t.” It was faint within the dubious shadows of sanctuary. “Not a… good place.”
So Tokela wasn’t as far gone as all that. “Indeed, a poor choice, but here we are, a’io?—and better the distractions of pleasure than pain. You don’t have to face this alone.”
“Alone.” Harsh, like sand in a grain mortar. “What happens”—another shudder and gasp—“when we get to your ship?”
Ai, this was a different thing altogether than bringing amongst his crew one possessed by Elementals… and who also, it seemed, heard the Void-within-Stars long ago loosed upon thisLand by Chepiś.
No wonder Sarinak and Inhya had resorted to drugs. It was startling that they’d let him go with Galenu. More, why had Palatan left him there? And what of Aylaniś?
What had happened?
Time for that later. For now? “Cast it from your heart. We’ll know what to do when River is beside us, a’io?”
“I knew what to do. I didn’t listen. Didn’t want. But River would sing my name, tell me how…” Another shudder and the eerie, inwards turn of focus that Našobok had come to realise was Tokela… listening. “She’s faint, here, so faint… but She can swallow even Stars, reflect them back, away. She’ll hide us.”
“A’io. I believe you. But first we have to get there.”
And they’d a ways to go. At least another Sun’s passage before they even saw Her marshes and bottomlands. Another dark of naked Stars.
Not counting, of course, however long after that it would take them to catch up with Ilhukaia, making her steady way downRiver. But there they’d have trees, and River.
The Moons’ combined light pulled crimson from Tokela’s hair, slatted across his forehead to spear one eye. The pupil contracted, as if in answer.
“Can’t… let it.” Small flickers waged war behind Tokela’s visage; more of Sky’s realm than any of Earth’s scape, and Thunder sending shards of lightning across to warn: I come with storms upon my tail, take care. Našobok shifted to block the changing light—shield and thrown shadow, spreading the tail of his leather longcoat behind him to cover as much of Tokela’s legs as possible.
Somehow, it worked. As if Stars were indeed eyes, and Našobok set upon keeping their gaze from the one They hunted.
“Ask,” he whispered, cupping his hands about Tokela’s face.
“N’da. Can do it. Will…” Finally, the Stars in Tokela’s eyes dimmed, one by one. Then those eyes closed and, still twitching and shivering, Tokela went limp.
Sleep, escape, it didn’t matter. Našobok pushed up to hands and knees, dubious of their situation.
It most certainly wasn’t a good place: the middle of dryLands, in a wash muddy from Rainfall, amidst meagre protections of scrub and brush. Chepiś sorcerers with their odd singing-net of Stars weren’t the only predators to worry over. They couldn’t stay here overlong.
The spotted bay mare who’d carried them was nibbling, matter-of-fact, at what sparse forage she could find: sweetsage and needlecreeper, mostly. Našobok chirruped to her and she raised her head, ears pricked. He preferred riding River’s back to any Kin upon thisLand, but he’d learned a few horsetalker ways in his time.
“My tail is killing me, old friend,” he murmured, half-silent as his gaze lowered to Tokela. “But my Spirit wails harder. Ai, Palatan, if only you were here.”
Tokela remained quiet beneath him, twitching and sweating despite the chill. Našobok gave the soft, carrying trill that meant “come here” and the mare obeyed.
It took more innovative encouragement to convince her to lie down, propped over Tokela as he was. But her training had been thorough—even the castoffs from duskLands superior to any others. Našobok kept clucking and persistently tapping behind her knee; with a resigned sigh, the mare at last lowered herself with a whump and a sprinkling of sand. Her recumbent body would offer some protection, with Našobok’s longcoat serving as the rest while he set up a lean-to. And invoked Fire’s protection. He’d heard the rumbling cough of lionKin more than once.
It didn’t take long. He squandered some time attempting to find sticks long enough for shelter
