Awa’s face was flame-hot, her hands cold. They were selling her on her birthday, like a savage girl nobody wanted to feed anymore.
3
Surprise
Djola climbed along the ragged cliffs, agile and practiced. He dangled a moment over a dark tidal pool, appreciating his strength, the salt air, and white-water birds diving for fish. He grabbed three shells, not yet sun-bleached, for the children, and a rare spiky urchin for Samina. He jumped over the pool and ran through a maze of caves and canyons toward their cozy cottage. He chuckled. Home looked like driftwood caught in a rockslide. Tree limbs obscured a broken chimney.
A secret hideaway meant dusty rides to the capital city, ten days on the Empire road or more, if he had to wait out storms. He hated leaving for Council before repairing the chimney or helping Samina fix the windcatcher. Rotating bundles of reeds cooled hot days and warmed chill nights, but were making such a racket, nobody could sleep at night or think during the day.
Samina stood on the roof by the windcatcher. A sweaty tunic hugged her muscled buttocks and thighs. Her face was the golden brown of nearby cliffs. Silver tattoos snaked under one blue-violet eye and over the other. Silver and blue lip-tint matched her eyes. Strange to him once, beautiful now. Djola married Samina for peace and found love.
Mumbling about broken tools, Samina replaced a bent crossbeam. Reed-wheels rotated softly again, like wind whispering in the bushes.
“You’ve fixed the windcatcher despite broken tools,” Djola called up to her, “and I must be going. I’m long overdue.”
“Who travels far in storm season, even on a warhorse?” She leapt down in front of him. “Everyone will be late, even those who live close.” She searched Djola’s face. “You didn’t show Nuar your map, did you?” Samina knew Djola better than anyone.
“We talked a little about it.”
She balled her fists and pounded his chest. “You smell of bats and sea urchins.”
He held up the spiky purple shell and grinned at the delight in her eyes. “Yours.”
She cupped it gently. “How do you find these?” She pressed her body to his and kissed him, a slow dance of tongues and lips. “We should take a ride on the waves.”
“On that flimsy raft? When I come back.” He displayed three flat star discs. “For Tessa, Bal, and Quint.”
“Not a crack or blemish, three perfect shells.” Samina shook her head. “Master of Poisons? Why aren’t you Master of Weeds and Wild Things?”
“Azizi invited me to the stone-wood table and named me Master of Poisons.”
Samina set the shells in a window. “You can’t name yourself? Use your true name?”
“Who masters the wild?”
“Exactly!” An old argument flared out of nowhere, like a poison storm bursting from static and shimmer. Why blame him for the weather? Why fight over the price of tree oil and mangos? Over too many fruit trees going to flower but not to fruit? Over the taste of sand on every breath? Djola agreed, something must be done, that’s why he headed to Council.
“I don’t want you to go,” Samina declared. “We could take the children to Eidhou Mountain, visit my sister. She sent a bushel of mangos.”
“Your sister will be at Council.”
“Sister Kyrie can take care of herself.”
“So can I.”
“On Mount Eidhou, the air is sweet, the rain reasonable.”
“For now. We’ll go when I come back. You’ll be fine here while I’m gone.”
Samina poked him. “The gods of the crossroads are tricksters.”
“Only Nuar and my guard know this place and the guards get lost. Inland villagers think we’re pirates.”
“I am a pirate. We used to raid this coast.” Samina sucked back tears. “Twenty new funeral mounds in the village—a ghost village soon. Let us come with you.”
“When Council sits, rebels rile the people up and priests snatch children to bleed for conjure spells. The capital is no place for you all.”
She took a battle stance. “No one tells me my place.”
Djola raised his hands high. “True. But we agreed to make this our home. You feared Kyrie would turn our children into rebels.”
“I don’t know anymore. Would that be so bad?”
“Rebels chase a hopeless cause. They’re in disarray, a mob.”
“You twist my words against me!” Samina paced around him, a captain on a floundering ship. “Just because you argue well doesn’t mean you’re right.”
Djola retreated to the kitchen, to the smell of ripe mangos, cardamom, and kola nuts. He plucked a slice of warm nut bread from a basket. His Aido bag lay on the table stuffed with map scrolls, Kyrie’s mangos, and Samina’s pirate charms.
“Where is everybody? I must say good-bye.” Djola climbed to the loft and poked blankets and pillows then glanced into the rafters. A fly twitched free of a half-formed spiderweb. Samina raced out the back door to an empty yard. Half the sky had turned orange again.
“Their cloaks are gone.” Djola stepped beside her, touching his shoulder to hers.
“They snuck away. While your men readied the horses.”
Djola headed to the corral hidden in the trees. “Most of the horses are gone.”
“Quint saw something at the ruins by the village boneyard yesterday. Something for you. I heard him tell his sisters. That’s where they went. Zst!” Samina cursed. She never let the children out when storms threatened, even if they wore cloaks and mesh veils. “They’ll get lost. Or worse.”
“Nuar says this is just a bit of bluster.”
“Nobody doubts Chief Nuar’s storm-sense, still…” Sand demons danced in from the table land and joined forces at the canyon walls.
Djola hugged her. “We’ll find them.”
* * *
Djola and Samina scrambled through a tunnel too dark and treacherous for horses. Samina led the way with a smoky torch. They’d reach the village boneyard in under an hour. Djola refused to imagine the worst, Samina’s influence. Pirates saw opportunity in every direction. Horse tracks at the corral had been clear. Djola’s guard, twelve seasoned warriors, rode with the children toward the canyon maze—Quint’s idea. Their six-year-old son was always plotting mischief and keeping spirits high. The sky looked threatening, but sand demons collapsed in fickle winds. His guards were northlanders: Ishba, Sorit, Kahoe—tribes that aligned with Anawanama chiefs after the Empire invaded. They could handle storms or rogue pirates raiding for slaves.
Rano, the captain, was as fierce as a snow bear. He’d come through war and twenty years of peace with Djola. Rano doted on Tessa, Djola’s eldest daughter. When she was born, Rano pledged to die for Djola and his family. Drunken bravado perhaps, but almost true. Tessa probably talked Rano into this adventure. She had a diplomat’s tongue and a pirate woman’s charm. Bal, the middle child, must be guiding the troops—she knew the maze better than anyone.
Djola touched Samina’s back. “Don’t be upset. They’ve planned a surprise.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” Samina picked up the pace.