Našobok blinked, surprised. “I didn’t say…” Then shrugged. “Ai, only what I deserve, courting the likes of you. Of course you know.”
“I didn’t, before last night. I… it was like the Star-basket, pouring into me.”
“Then you know more than I ever have. And what knowledge I do have, I gave oath. Can you understand? It will never pass my lips.”
“Then I’ll say it. And I do understand, now. It’s because of the wreckage Grandmother endured that our ancestors decided Shapers must be purged from thisLand. Even those who were our own. So”—his eyes slid upwards, met Našobok’s—“any who would defy that, even to use such things for our good and protection? Ai, they would do well to hide, lest we eliminate them, too. Hide, beneath the truth.”
“What if everything is truth, Tohwakelifitčiluka?”
“Then, Našoboka’qékla, we’ve nothing to hide.”
“I cannot speak to what’s not mine to tell.”
“Then speak to what is yours. Did shamanKin offer you a place? When they couldn’t”—so long ago—n’da, merely a waning of Moon ago—he’d wanted it; now Tokela could barely voice it—“purge River from you.”
“I wield nothing; I’m merely an outcast tainted with River’s possession.” So careful, the talk. Našobok was trying.
“Can Alekšu help one who is tainted by Chepiś?”
“There is no taint in y—”
“Isn’t there? When you came for me…” Tokela’s thoughts ran apace with his heart, hammering swift. “You said you wouldn’t take me there, to duskLands. That we couldn’t go there. It’s because Grandmother’s true Spirit hides in duskLands caverns, a’io? And Chepiś mustn’t know or come near.”
“Neither”—Našobok reached out, gave Tokela’s arm a slight shake—“must they come near you. Tokela, belay these questions for another Sun’s rising, and for one who can answer. One who knows the answers.”
But even that was an answer. “It’s just… there are others. I’m not alone. There are others, but…” Cheeks stinging, Tokela dropped his eyes. “They still aren’t like me, are they?”
“You aren’t alone. I’m here. We have this much of an oath between us: while I breathe, you are not alone.”
And me. It came, faint, upon Wind. I’m like you.
Anahli.
If they don’t accept us, oathbrother, we’ll make our own Clan. Somehow.
Eyes stinging now, as well as cheeks. Tokela shook his head and shrugged from the blanket. “I don’t know if I’ll ever understand. You’ve never turned away. You don’t care what I am. What they’re hunting—”
“Who. Who they’re hunting. You aren’t a thing.”
Not a thing. At his toes, Fire hissed content.
Tokela stared.
You are not a thing. I’m glad you finally hear me in thisnow.
Why haven’t I heard you before? Tokela pitched the not-talk just as silent, just as if he’d always known how.
Perhaps you haven’t wanted to listen. You are River’s, true enough, but you are also child to all of Us, little brother. You remember My co-tenant, first of shamanKin, but do you not remember how you opened to Us, let light into the darkness to Dance with you?
Tokela reached out, stroked fingers over the heat. It was somehow just as perilous—just as wrong—to not acknowledge the presence as it was to cede to it.
You let Us take you, little brother. Even as you took the wilding Riverbrother after, in another lovely Dance through which River spoke, washed calm through you both with the pounding heat of seed and heart-blood.
A steady hand gripped Tokela’s chin. “Come back, tšukasi.”
The endearment warmed. “I wasn’t far.” As he spoke, Tokela realised its veracity. The Elementals had quieted somehow, commingling within his heart. Not out of control, like Stars always were, like Fire had been lastdark beneath Them—Reaching Them, that was the way—a transfer carried on rough, hot Wind for perilous heartbeats. “I just… I need to know. Could shamanKin help me? Would they?”
“I swear to you, I don’t know. I think Palatan means to find a way, but things aren’t so simple. Ai, well.” Našobok grinned. “Nothing is, with you.”
Tokela couldn’t help a return smile; it laced his voice, wry. “But I’m not merely one who hears Elementals. I’m enemy. Shaper. Part… Other.”
“You’re not an enemy.”
“But still, we’re heading away from duskLands.”
A shrug, then Našobok sniffed at the cooking basket and tsked approval. “This much I do know. The shapingWells are wild, beyond even the control of what Chepiś made them. The one we approach might subvert their sorcery, help hide us. You might be conversant with other Elementals”—this with a twist of brow, more puzzlement—“and how that’s possible I don’t know, because my heart recognises you as River’s. I didn’t think it was possible to be held by more than one. Either way, you say She will hide you, and I believe you. Still, our fight is to get there.” Testing with his fingers, he found their meal cool enough to eat and dug in.
Our fight. Tokela wasn’t sure he could fully express the emotions rising within his own Spirit, let alone in outwards voice. “But you’re worried.”
“Of course I’m worried!” Našobok pushed the warm porridge towards him. “You had me scared to leaking. I don’t like being that helpless, I don’t want either of us to be in that place again, and I’m not so thick as to think we’ll have smooth sailing just because the waters have calmed beneath Sun’s gaze.”
The confession lay between them, oddly reassuring.
“Eat,” Našobok insisted. “I had to sleep, but we need to get some lengths behind us before Sun’s heat forces us to halt. Are you able for some hard riding?”
Tokela nodded. Našobok smiled, brief but wide, and began eating. Between bites, he hummed a travelling orison beneath his breath. Tokela tasted the stew; at first unwilling, then ravenous.
Perhaps it was why, at first, he shrugged away the odd lightness of his hands and head. He didn’t know enough about what his Spirit made of him, but it did make him hungry.
But as
