Ilapara gives in to a surge of worry and steps closer to him. “What is it?” But before he can answer, something casts a shadow over them, and when they look up, they see it seeping through the high canopy like grains through a sieve. Then it swoops down faster than any of them can react.
“Watch out!” Salo cries.
Too late. While the main cloud of darkness veers away, a thin stream—flies, Ilapara notices after the fact—reaches out like a tentacle and wraps itself around Tuksaad, whisking him off the ground. She has just enough time to shout his name before she suffers the same fate, and the last thing she sees as an invisible force pulls her out of reality and into a horribly empty chasm is a face painted black with arcane ciphers.
41: Kelafelo
Namato—Umadiland
As the full moon approaches, each day counting down to Akanwa’s scheduled sacrifice at the Anchorite’s altar, Kelafelo finalizes her plans for escape.
Despite Kelafelo’s vow never to see the slave girl as her daughter, the Anchorite’s revelation about her malicious plans for the girl opened her eyes to the simple fact that she isn’t as empty as she thought she was. Moreover, that being empty isn’t what she wants for herself anymore.
If Urura’s death stripped her of her humanity, Akanwa’s arrival returned a small piece of it. She is not Urura and will never be, but she returned a modicum of color and laughter to Kelafelo’s life, and for that reason alone, Kelafelo loves her.
She makes no changes to her routine or preparations that will give her away to the Anchorite. She continues to work on her Axiom. She rereads every book on the Anchorite’s shelf, treatises on poisons, alchemy, and soul charm creation. She does her best to appear the hardworking apprentice resigned to a difficult task.
But in the privacy of her own mind, she makes plans for a life away from her master. She will disappear with Akanwa in the night while the old woman sleeps, and then they will take a boat and sail upstream, perhaps make their way to a town along the World’s Artery.
She won’t even need to awaken and become a mystic. She already knows enough about mind stones, soul charms, and healing elixirs to earn a decent wage. She will be free to live as she chooses, with no parent or husband or sister-wife to answer to. She will build a new life for herself and Akanwa.
On the eve before their intended escape, however, three days before the full moon, Kelafelo returns to the hut from laundering clothes by the river to find Akanwa missing.
At first she figures the young girl has gone chasing after the bronze-furred monkeys that sometimes come to scavenge through their rubbish pit or steal fruit from the Anchorite’s garden. But as the hours progress and the suns dip lower without any sign of her, a sick worry begins to twist her stomach into knots.
She walks over to the garden to find out if the Anchorite has seen the girl, but the old woman isn’t there either. She walks down to the river, calling out Akanwa’s name. Not finding her there, she trots back and searches the hut just in case she’s missed her, but the girl is nowhere in sight.
She searches the compound again, the chicken coop, the garden for a second time. She runs along the path to the village of Namato, the same path she used when she first stumbled here in search of vengeance over a comet ago now, but Akanwa isn’t there either.
When she is out of breath, she stops and shades her eyes with a hand, searching the flat savannas for any sign of movement. Did they go somewhere together? But where would the Anchorite take the girl, and why?
Kelafelo calls Akanwa’s name until her throat feels raw; then she runs back to the hut and searches it again. She looks everywhere twice and then thrice. She looks until she realizes that her whole body is shaking. Eventually she leans against the hut and waits, convincing herself that the Anchorite wouldn’t do anything to the girl. It is Kelafelo who is meant to perform the sacrifice, not the old woman.
When the Anchorite finally appears in the compound later that evening, however, Kelafelo takes one look at her and knows. She knows it in her bones and in her soul, and the knowledge breaks her.
Still, her trembling lips have to ask. “Where is Akanwa?”
“I sold her off.” The Anchorite stops and leans on her staff with both hands. She might as well be giving a lecture on magical theory or announcing what she wants to eat for dinner. “It was a bad idea in retrospect. I underestimated how strong a bond you’d form with the girl.”
“Where is she?” Kelafelo asks again.
“You will never see her again. You’d have either tried to escape with her, or if you’d gone through with it, it would have destroyed what little humanity you have left, which is worse. We shall have to purchase a different slave. Perhaps an older man. Someone you won’t get too attached to.”
For the first time Kelafelo realizes that she can tell when the Anchorite is lying to her. It’s in the way her fingers keep tapping her staff. She cares what I think of her. A measure of cold clarity comes to Kelafelo’s vision. “You didn’t sell her off, did you.”
The Anchorite frowns. “It doesn’t matter. The girl is gone, and you should get over it. Need I remind you why you limped here begging for my teachings? Have you lost sight of what you are here for?”
On the contrary, things are suddenly very clear to Kelafelo. The Anchorite is absolutely right: she came here for a reason, but Akanwa took her away from that path. The time has come for her to return to it.
She lets tears fall down her cheeks and wipes her eyes. “I’m sorry, Mamakuru. You are right. I wasn’t going to do it. It would have been too hard.”
The Anchorite waits for her to compose herself before she speaks again, this time in a mild voice. “I should apologize for putting you in this position. Living alone for so long has made me a stranger to human compassion, but I should have known better. Sometimes we simply aren’t strong enough to go against our most powerful human instincts, and none is more powerful than the love of a mother. But don’t worry; I am committed to making sure you reach your potential. I have taught other students before, but you have been the most promising.”
Deeply grateful that the Anchorite has restored her vision, Kelafelo wipes her eyes one last time and says, “I thank you, Mamakuru. I will try not to fail you.”
And in a way, this is entirely true.
For a plan she never intended to put into motion, Kelafelo executes it flawlessly. On the night of the full moon, the Anchorite sits up in her pallet to find Kelafelo watching her from the table across the hut. Straining for breath, she presses a hand against her chest.
The hut is lit only by the moon’s crimson light, which lances through the shutters, but Kelafelo can clearly see the moment the old woman realizes what’s happening. It’s right when she gasps and turns her head toward the table.
To her credit, her voice is free of panic. “What have you done?”
“I mixed up a concoction from your poison vials,” Kelafelo answers, also calm. “Bloodrose essence to mute your sorcery, a slow-acting paralyzing agent, something to sharpen your senses so that you feel everything. And in case you get any ideas, your little centipede can’t save you. I trapped it in an urn and buried it just before you woke up.”
“How? I would have detected the poison in my food.”