The Last of the Wilds

past them were faintly visible. Tiny curls of light decorated the surface.

Glow worms, she thought. Their presence indicated just how dirty the water was. She was too terrified to worry about getting sick, however. She had never travelled so fast before; she was sure she was going to be dashed against the wall before they made it out.

The tunnel began to curve this way and that. They had to swim frantically to avoid colliding with the occasional outcrop of rock. She glimpsed all manner of things stuck in cracks and dips of the surface - even, to her horror, a skull.

Just as her lungs were beginning to protest, she rounded a corner and found the current was sweeping her toward a slash of dark blue. Rissi let go of her and swam forward so he shot through the narrow gap. She kicked out and managed to slip through without touching the rock.

The current eased and died. She looked back to see a rock wall fading into a haze. Below she could see a vague hint of sea floor. In all other directions was a depthless blue that was somehow frightening in its potential.

The urgency of her need for air was more pressing, however. She swam toward the rippling surface above. As she broke through she gasped out the breath she had been holding then began sucking in another.

Before she could get a proper lungful of air, her head plunged under the surface again and she gulped in water. She kicked upward, broke through into the air again and coughed out the water. All the time she had to fight to keep her head above the surface.

“Rissi!” she called frantically.

“Imi,” came the reply. There was a pause, then his head appeared.

“Why is it moving so much?” she gasped. “Is there a storm?”

He laughed. “No. This is normal. These are waves.” He grinned. “You haven’t been outside before, have you?”

“Yes! But it wasn’t this... this wavy.”

By keeping her legs moving, she found she was able to rise and fall with the waves.

“So where now?” he asked.

“What?”

“Where’s the treasure?”

“Oh.” She gathered her thoughts. “Xiti Island.”

He stared at her in dismay. “Xiti!”

“Yes. Do you know the way?”

As he shook his head she felt a wave of disappointment. “Oh. I should have asked.”

“I know where Xiti is,” he told her. “But it’s far from here. It would take hours for us to swim there.”

She felt hope return. “How many hours?”

He shook his head again. “Three. Maybe four.”

“That’s not too bad. We could get there and back by tonight.”

“How long will it take to get this treasure?” He frowned. “What is the treasure? I’m not swimming all day if it isn’t worth it.”

She smiled. “It’s worth it. I overheard traders talking about sea bells. They said there were some there the size of a fist.”

His eyes brightened. “Did they? Then why haven’t they taken them?”

“Because...” Imi considered her answer. Would he change his mind if she mentioned the landwalkers? “Because they’re waiting for them to get bigger.”

“Bigger,” he repeated. “I guess they wouldn’t notice if a few went missing... But... we’d be stealing them, Imi. What if we got caught?”

“ ‘Nothing the ocean grows is owned by any man until it is taken,‘ ” she quoted.

His lips twitched, then he began to grin. “I’ll be rich!” He looked at her. “But you’re already rich. What do you want sea bells for?”

She smiled. “A birthday present for my father.”

“So that’s what this is all about.” He laughed. “We’re outside the city and both already in trouble. We may as well keep going. Follow me.”

He dove under the surface. Taking a deep breath, Imi plunged under the waves and swam after him.

Mirar regarded the growing contents of the makeshift table in surprise. A bowl of soup steamed in front of him. On a thick slab of wood lay something wrapped in leaves that smelled of roasted meat and herbs. A bowl of green leaves and fresh roots sat to one side of this and another of steaming cooked tubers on the other, and there was the usual bowl laden with ripe fruit.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“A feast,” she replied.

“Is this what’s been keeping you busy all morning?”

“Mostly.”

“What’s the occasion?”

“We’re celebrating.”

“Celebrating what?”

She placed the two wooden cups he’d carved on the table then straightened. “I haven’t detected your emotions in over a week. I think that’s long enough to prove you’ve got the hang of hiding your mind.”

He narrowed his eyes. “That’s not all.”

“What? Being free to leave the cave is not reason enough?”

She produced a leather pouch and lowered it to the cups. Out of the hollow stick that acted as a spout came a stream of dark purple liquid. The aroma was familiar, though he had not smelled it in centuries. Teepi, the Siyee’s liquor.

“Where’d you get that from?”

“I traded for it. With the Siyee.”

“They came back?”

“Yes, early this morning. I think they’re concerned I’ll perish. Or that I’ve decided to stay.”

“Hmmm.” He picked up the cup and sipped. The fiery liquor warmed his throat. “It’s just as well I have learned to hide my thoughts. We can’t stay here much longer.”

“No,” she agreed. She sat down and picked up her bowl of soup. “They also gave me a girri. I had to cook it today, so I thought I might as well make us a feast. Nothing much else for me to do now.”

He watched her drink the soup. “You’re getting bored with me, aren’t you?”

She smiled slyly. “No. I have never found you boring, Mirar. In fact, I’ve always found you a little too interesting for my own good.”

He chuckled. So. There it was. The invitation. He had noted the way she sometimes looked at him. Thoughtful. Curious. Admiring. The spark of attraction was still there for her. Was it for him?

He thought back to other times circumstances had brought them to each other’s beds and felt an old but familiar interest flare. Yes, he thought. It’s still there.

“I got to wondering today,” she said, setting her empty bowl aside, “if any of the other Wilds have survived.”

She looked up at him, seeking his opinion. He took another sip of Teepi, giving him time to slowly extract himself from pleasant memories.

“I doubt it,” he replied.

She pursed her lips. Which reminded him of another time when she had paused and made that face, considering what they might do next. She had been naked at the time, he recalled. He shook his head to clear his mind.

“If you and I are still alive, why not them?” Emerahl insisted. “We know The Oracle was killed, and The Farmer, but what about The Gull? What of The Twins and The Maker.”

“The Maker is dead. He killed himself when his creations were destroyed.”

She looked at him in horror. “Poor Heri.”

Mirar shrugged. “He was old. The oldest, apart from The Oracle - and she was half mad.”