Waterborn

Left alone once more, she reflected on what small comfort came from answers. After all, she now understood most of the events of the past few months. Her power began to waken when she began to bleed. The Riverghost had sensed her, lurked in the fountain while her father summoned its lesser brethren, and then come after her. Whether it meant somehow to feed on her or was merely drawn to her like a moth to a flame was immaterial, though she suspected the former, considering how the ghost in her room was able to draw form and substance from the merest contact with her blood. Who had the demon ghost once been? Someone like her, of course. A child filled with forces she neither wanted nor understood. She had lived below the Darkness Stair—for how long? She had died there, and the River, torpid and uncaring, had drunk her into himself.

She scratched at her own scale, her own sign of exile.

Evening found her still there, and in the entry room across the courtyard, she heard a door open, and voices. She bolted up in her bed. If it was the priests, she was doomed. She wondered, wildly, if she could climb the wooden trellis to the roof, make her way to the Great Hall, steal their victory from them. But it was too late; footsteps slapped across the courtyard, hushed in soles of soft leather.

Her visitor was no priest. The woman who uncertainly entered her room and leaned against the doorjamb was the last person she ever expected. Almost, in fact, she didn't recognize the woman. Slim, beautiful despite being a few years past her prime, coiled hair shot with a magnificent streak of gray. Eyes as wide and black as Hezhi's own, the same eyes, so many were wont to say.

'Mother?' Hezhi gasped, even then uncertain.

'So,' the woman said, her voice cool, but edged with some almost concealed emotion. 'You know me, at least. That is more than I expected.'

Hezhi nodded her head, unable to speak. She tugged at her sleeve, making certain the scale was concealed.

The two women gazed at each other, neither speaking, for a long moment. The elder finally broke the silence. 'You've grown into a pretty thing,' she said. 'Soon you will have many suitors.'

'I have one already,' Hezhi corrected quietly, sitting up and brushing at her disordered hair.

'The Yehd Nu boy? Yes, I've heard about that. You embarrassed him quite soundly.'

Her mother's speech was glacial, each word carefully shaped as if just recalled from a distant memory. Hezhi noticed the discreet black stain beneath her nose, the dark cast to her lips.

'I didn't mean…' she stammered, but her mother held up a hand.

'No, you should keep him guessing. And soon…' She paused, wrinkled her angular face, brushed at it with a finely manicured hand. 'Yes, soon you will have many suitors, and have your pick of them.'

Hezhi nodded, still unwilling to offer anything to this ethereal creature, this woman she had seen only from afar for most of her life. When was the last time they had spoken? In her garden, two years ago? It seemed at least that long.

'Well, I…' Her mother seemed to search for words and frowned down at the floor as if she might find them there. When she looked back up, her glazed eyes held a frankness in them, an unspoken truth. 'I just wanted to see you, Hezhi. It's been a long time since we talked.' She smiled, a false and painful smile. 'After all, I did bear you, didn't I? Nine months in my belly you were, though you struggled to escape much earlier.' She shrugged. 'I just wanted to see you, tell you I'm looking forward to you joining us soon. That will be nice, won't it?'

Hezhi could see Qey, across the courtyard, wringing her hands, pretending to slice onions. She was crying, but of course, she always cried when she sliced onions. Halfway across the courtyard was a handsome, smart-looking man in royal livery, trying not to seem uncomfortable. Her mother's bodyguard? Or a Jik? But no, the Jik she would never see; they were less visible than ghosts, and when their knives found your heart it was always from behind.

Her mother smiled at her for a score more uncomfortable breaths. 'I just wanted to say hello,' she explained. 'You're really a very beautiful young woman.'

'Thank you.'

Her mother nodded. 'I hope we see you soon,' she concluded sluggishly, turned. Signaling her man with a slight crook of her wrist, she departed.

Her visit left Hezhi with a tight heart, a need for air. Dizziness crept up on her, and she realized her breathing was too hard, too fast. Why would her mother come see her now, of all times, after all these years? But Hezhi knew, she knew.

Even the most remote of mothers might want to see her child one last time.

Especially if she knew her child was soon to die. Or vanish.

 

 

Ghan had a harried look about him, as if he hadn't slept. His face was tightened into a frown more bitter than usual, and he ushered her into the back room without delay.

'It was more difficult than I imagined. I'm afraid I awoke some of my own sleeping enemies,' he said tiredly.

Concern for the old man stole up through her other fears. 'I never wanted to create trouble for you,' she said.

'No, I created my own troubles long ago,' he informed her. 'Old debts can be put off for a time, but they must be paid eventually.'

'They let you see the books?'

'Yes,' he verified shortly.

She waited.

'There isn't much that can be done,' he said at last. 'Only one thing, really.'

'But something?'

He shrugged. 'It is a chance. Some of the older texts speak of a time before the Blessed were consigned…' A look of agony washed over his face, and his jaw worked soundlessly, like a mute gibbering. 'You know,' he gasped, after the spasm passed, 'one can dance around a Forbidding, if one is clever. Sometimes I am not clever.'

'Before they were sent underneath,' Hezhi finished for him softly, wishing she could erase his pain.

'Yes.' He seemed composed again. 'Before that began, they were dealt with in other ways. Some were killed. Others fled Nhol entirely, or were exiled to some distant land.'

'And now? Why not now?'

'There are uses for the Blessed,' he muttered. 'Under the right circumstances, their power can be controlled, manipulated. Used to enhance the Chakunge's power. More than that, though, was the nagging paranoia of the royal family. One does not let a rival power loose in the world.'

'I don't…'

'Some evidence indicates that the… change'—Again he shuddered, lightly—'is so tied to the River that if one is not near him, if one is far away, it will not occur.' He paused, watching her, letting that sink in.

'Leave Nhol?' It was a bewildering thought.

'Surely it has occurred to you,' he said softly.

'I… no, I hadn't thought of that. How? Where would I go?' Even as she said this, her dreams came flashing back behind her eyes; deep forest, mountains, the gray-eyed man. Was that what they were about, her dreams?

'I made a wish…' she muttered.

'What?'

'The day I began bleeding, I drank Sacred Water. I wished for someone—a man, I guess—to come and get me, free me from my problems. It was a stupid wish, I know. It feels stupid talking about it. But after that, I began having dreams of a far-off place, of a strange man.'

'You were bleeding,' Ghan whispered. 'Your first blood.' He frowned, wrinkled his brow as if remembering something. 'Blood is motion,' he said softly, and it had the sound of something quoted. 'Blood is motion, and thus spirit. Spirit is the roots of the world.'

'What is that?' Hezhi asked.

'An old, old saying,' Ghan said. 'I never thought about it much. But the Royal Blood sets things moving, Hezhi. The River knows the feel and touch of Human blood, the scent of it. But the blood of his children he knows