Freak storms chased the fleet out of the Gulf. Pezarrat sold off contraband and headed to the floating cities sooner than planned. Djola rejoiced. Spies said Urzula might visit the floating cities. An audience with the queen meant word of Samina and the children. Hope was still a habit.
7
Love
Awa slipped Bal the smoked fish and crumble bread she’d stolen from the feast basket. They were both starving, sleepy, and Awa wanted to curse. The enclave had marched day and night, in and out of Mama Zamba caves and ravines, with only brief pauses for water and nuts. Now they paddled in several barges across a cold underground lake. Under what ground and toward which stars Awa couldn’t say. She was a mapmaker and hated feeling lost.
Awa was sixteen, a grown woman, and Isra still kept her in the dark. They headed to a secret crossroads, a ceremonial ground where Sprites might become Elders, if they couldn’t wait until the next big gathering of the clans. Jod and two other Sprites had decided to be shadow warriors. Waiting two years for the sweet desert gathering would be punishment, so Yari and Isra agreed to let them cross over early. However, Jod and his comrades, Cal and Neth, had to prove themselves exceptional. Yari dug up shadow warrior scrolls and prepared tricky questions. Isra dragged the enclave to a little-known region to test their scouting skills. If Jod, Cal, and Neth failed to stay hidden for a day, they would have to wait for the clan gathering to become Elders.
The underground lake was blue-green, liquid turquoise. Probably beautiful if your belly was full and your feet weren’t throbbing. The air was thick and warm—the breath of an exhausted beast. Sunlight streamed from tree-lined holes in the ledges above them, illuminating gray, bronze, and red walls. The cave’s wrinkled surface called to mind elephants wallowing in mud and spraying each other with clay.
A dream image—Awa was paddling in her sleep. Jerking awake, she ducked before hitting vines and strings of rock hanging over the lake. More wasted beauty. Why come this way? The barges passed into deep darkness, and Awa shivered. Isra had to know a better route. For some reason, vie wanted everyone to feel lost. Elders kept so many secrets and hidden scrolls. Awa was too tired to be annoyed. She’d be mad later when she had more energy.
This dark passage was the longest so far with no one lighting a torch. Something red smoldered up ahead—a bed of coals? Would Awa have to walk barefoot over fiery rocks to get out of the cave? Father’s thoughts, not hers, still plaguing her. Awa gripped Bal, who was calm, in shadow-warrior form, singing a rhythm for the paddlers. Awa leaned into that. Even so, when the barge bumped solid ground, she shrieked.
Yari lit a torch and cursed. A path led up a steep incline. The red that Awa had spied was a flame bush glowing in a sunlit opening. Isra waved everyone off their barge. Bal leapt ashore and helped unload supplies. Two other barges bumped land and more torches were lit. Light didn’t help Awa figure out where they were. Cold, hungry people tromped on elephant-skin stone and grumbled. Awa gathered Yari’s books and stumbled off the barge. They had more books than usual, brought from a secret cache for the ceremony.
“Quit pouting,” Isra whispered to Yari. “Sprites have gone out scouting since the gorge—why not let a few cross over early?”
“You insisted they were ready to scout, not me,” Yari replied.
“But you led them into danger,” Isra said. “You risked their lives.”
“You brought Jod into the enclave and he has your heart.” Yari frowned. “Jod draws spirit from elsewhere. He could end up a lapsed Elder.”
Like Father? Jod was a pain, but not—“Someone who knows us and hates us and works against who we are?” Awa blurted this.
Isra put a hand to vie’s lips, crossing fingers then flicking them in the air to say, “Just between us.” Clumsy hand-talk. Vie gestured at Yari, “Better to find out Jod’s true spirit before he sits in a circle of Elders.”
Awa headed back for a second load of books. She would never tell Jod that Yari had doubts. In fact, she never spoke to Jod. He brushed her off like dust from his boot on the way to fussing with Bal. Jod and Bal fought over anything. Jod was bigger and stronger than Bal, and thought he was smarter than everybody, but Bal was more skilled. She used his strength and arrogance against him.
Jod’s Aido cloth always unraveled—he was a worse weaver than Awa and never carried shade with him. Bal could disappear in bright sun, like Isra, Yari, and the best Elder shadow warriors. Jod called Bal’s skill cheating. Isra broke up fights between them before Jod suffered inglorious defeat or called in Cal and Neth for an ambush. Jod claimed ambush by his friends wasn’t cheating.
Yari thought most fights were a waste of spirit. Vie scolded Bal for letting Jod bait her and Jod for letting Bal make him itch and steam and lash out. Bal never picked a fight with Jod. She just never backed down when he picked one with her. Bal being Bal made Jod want to fight. Why was Bal to blame?
Awa rehearsed a speech to argue with Yari: We have to stand up for who we are. She was always arguing in her mind with Yari, never face-to-face like Isra. She caught her foot on a root and tripped, Yari’s books slipping from her arms.
“Let me help you,” Jod said, rushing toward her.
“I can manage.” Awa scowled at him, suspicious.
“I’ll carry the big ones.” Jod picked up heavy tomes and smiled at Awa blankly, as if they’d never met before. Hazel eyes looked right through her to Bal who tugged baby goats onto solid ground. “No problem.” Jod toted the heaviest books in one arm. He was dressed as an Elder in a blue cloud-silk robe. A new bow was slung across his back; a diamond-tipped blade hung from his belt.
Jod ran past Bal and headed to the surface. He was good with a knife and better than anyone at giving Isra the answers vie wanted to hear. Isra praised Jod even when he was mediocre, and Jod would be an Elder before Bal, who was excellent at everything!
Bal had chosen to wait and gain more skill before crossing over. Never let the enemy know your heart. Bal hid jealousy and anger well, but Awa caught flaring nostrils and measured breath in Jod’s wake. Jod being Jod and everyone thinking him handsome and brave made Bal want to fight. Was that wrong?
The enclave set up camp on a grassy saddle between mountain peaks. Tents were pitched, goats corralled, and water hauled in. A few weavers set up looms. Awa stared at unfamiliar cliffs. She had no idea where they were. If she chose griot for crossover, she’d have to do better at finding her way. Maps were tricky stories. Tell the wrong tale and you were lost. Tonight she’d read the stars and orient herself better.
“I wish it wasn’t so steep,” Isra said. “Up is great, but down. Zst!”
“Your knees are fine,” Yari said. “This is the safest place for the crossover ceremony, since we’re in such a hurry. Your idea.”
“No, their idea.” Isra pointed at Jod and crew. “Let’s hope they don’t fail.”
Yari sighed. “This test is good for everyone.”
Awa expected Jod to fail. Bal was fast and quiet and could track anyone, even Isra. After sunset when festival tables had been set up, Awa saw Jod steal an Aido cloth cape and sneak off. Stealth wasn’t his downbeat. Awa lay on a table, staring at an inky sky, waiting for stars to rise. She always kept track of the nights. Bal appeared over her. Green-flecked eyes flashed light from the cook fires. Her chin was sharp, her grin crooked. A vision.