Compis: Five Tribes (21 page)

It was a Roaneu
, Nikka realized, waking up from her dream.

Kanae walked with sure strides over to the pot that was still bubbling in the corner and with a practiced hand and a protective glove, lifted it off the bar it was hanging on and walked back to him.

“Come, this stew should be nicely cooked by now,” she said, leading him back to the house.

He closed the door behind him and followed her around to the back entrance of the house, which was closer.

“There's a necessary down the hall with running water where you can wash up. It's cold, but it serves the purpose,” she said, settling the pot on a trivet.

“A necessary?” he asked, having never heard the word before.

“Oh, sorry. The bathroom, I meant. I grew up Aquis, and that's what we called it. Old habits die hard,” she said.

She turned to her cupboards and started pulling out eating utensils and dishes, along with sides for the meal: butter, bread and such. Luka admired the craftsmanship and organization she'd created in the kitchen. It wasn't a large room, with what seemed to be only one corner for cooking. There was a stove, pantry, and sticking up from the floor he saw the handle for the cold box to keep the food fresh. On the other side of the room was a small table placed in its own corner and three chairs surrounding it. Just enough for company, if the need arose.

He remembered his things on the porch.

“My bags,” he said.

“There's a small room directly past the necessary on your way down the hall. You can put your things in there,” she said, without turning around. “Hurry along now. Don't want the food to get cold.”

He did as she ordered, retrieving his things and then set them on the small bed—well made—and then went and washed his hands and face. He rejoined her in the kitchen where she was ladling stew into two wooden bowls.

She gave him one bowl of stew and he seated himself in a chair. Setting her own bowl at the place next to his, she went back to the counter for a platter of bread, a small plate of butter, and a pitcher of ice cold water.

“I know stew seems a bit hot for this weather, but it's quick to prepare and can cook all day without me having to tend it.”

“It's delicious,” he said, savoring the flavors of the herbs and vegetables. “Besides, I'll be glad enough of stew when the rains come.”

“True enough. With you here to help me in the workshop, I'll be able to give more time to varying our meals. Hama said that you and your parents did woodwork?” she asked.

“Mostly decorations for buildings and some larger display pieces. The kind of thing you put in temples or use to make a house look nice,” he said.

“That makes sense, given the Aeris talent for designing and crafting buildings. That spire on the Citadel tower, for instance, one of my favorites. You'll find that my work here is more practical. I make tools, harnesses, wagons, and the odd piece of furniture—although that's more hobby than fast trade.

“I'm sure you've noticed by now that the Terris aren't much for decorating. We believe in function over form, purpose over pretty. Gardening, livestock, weaving—these are the things that we prefer to put our hands to. These are things that keep us closer to the earth, our sacred element.”

He slurped down the last of the liquid in the bowl, then took a large slice of bread and slathered it with butter. Kanae did the same.

“Lucky for you, the tools are all the same in our business, even though the end product is different. Once I see you at work, I'll be able to gauge what you'd best be suited for.”

They ate in silence for some long minutes and then Luka asked the question he'd been longing to since Hama had mentioned his new home.

“Did Hama tell you about my problem?” he asked.

“Your problem? Oh, you mean the bit about your Lumenta?” she asked.

He nodded and swallowed. “They can't figure out what it is,” he said.

“Don't let those stuffed shirts get you down, Luka. You're not the first person this sort of thing has happened to. Problem is, it's rare enough that all the leaders of this and that run around like headless bugs. You'll find your place, else Iam wouldn't have picked you for this tribe.

“Look at me, I've got the most useless Lumenta there is. Took ages to discover it. You know why? We're landlocked out here, if you haven't noticed. Know what my Lumenta is?

“Seal, that's what. Saltwater creature, waterbound, flops around like a fish on land. That's why I don't look more animal than human. Yet this is my home, it's where I fit and I wouldn't want to live anywhere else. The Terris are my people and they've been good to me, despite my difficulties early on.”

Luka sighed. He felt relief that he wasn't the only one who didn't fit in, but he still preferred to believe that he'd been chosen for the wrong tribe.

“You done?” she asked, clearing away her dishes.

Nodding, he helped her clean up and then followed as she led the way back to her shop for the rest of the afternoon's work. Instead of taking him through the list of tasks he'd be doing and the tools he'd be using, as he had assumed, she took him into the room that she'd come from when he and Duor Hama had first entered the building.

He was surprised to see a personal workspace that had nothing to do with furniture or tools. There were carving tools for fine work—what he'd used when working with his parents—and there were several carved figures on display in the room, in various states of completeness. In the corner, there were two shelves, one with finished statues and one with blocks of wood. The statues didn't have the polish and talent of the old Ignis pieces he'd seen in his life, but they had a life of their own and Kanae's passion for her work showed through them.

He stood in the center of the room as she walked over to the corner and after several minutes of consideration, chose a block two hands high and one hand wide. Crossing the room, she gave it to him.

“I think this will help you,” she said, then explained, “When I was struggling to find my Lumenta the only thing I could do to center myself and get peace was to put my knife to wood and carve up a statue. When you have a free moment, which will be scarce, what with your training and duties here, work on this. Maybe it will give you peace, too.”

He stared down at the hunk of Catalpa wood in his hand and wondered what he could make of it. The possibilities swirled through his mind and he felt excitement for the first time in days.

They were traveling again, he and the vixen, this time moving over broken rock and scrabbling brush on their way to the heights. She didn't rush him this time, but instead, stayed next to him as he worked, climbing slow and steady with aching fingertips reaching and gripping. He'd removed his boots, they were no help, and now they swung from their strings against his shoulder. His toes grabbed each peak and foothold with a steady grasp.

“Have you considered what we spoke of last time, Fire Child?” she asked at one point.

“I have dwelt on nothing else beside these dreams,” he said. “Our travel is slow, and though Alys is excellent company, these sessions of ours are ever in my mind. I wonder what they mean and what Iam is trying to tell me.”

“Is that all you do? Wonder?” she sounded disappointed.

“I try to consider what I could do when we reach the forgotten city. I am hoping to find a spell book or an artifact that will help cure us of this disease.”

“Foolishness! Foolishness!” she barked. “You can not cure the illness your tribe has been cursed with. You and all your tribe are the same, obsessed with the glory of past, unable to get away from it.”

“Well, how am I ever to use magic again if I can't cure the sickness? What is the purpose of all this?” he sat against the ledge looking down at her and inhaled deeply to try and get more air into his lungs.

“Did I ever say anything about curing the sickness? No, I did not. Let me tell you something and hear me, Fire Child, you will never cure the sickness. It is down in the marrow of your bones. You will never be rid of it.”

The words struck him like a thunder clap and he couldn't seem to grasp them.
He would never be rid of it
.
It had sunk into the marrow of his bones
.

“We will always be sick,” he whispered. “Always?”

“You should stop thinking of it as a sickness and thing of it as
The Change
. Your tribe has grown and evolved, yet you all act as though you were still the same. You must change your ways, change your magic!”

“And to do that, I have to learn about the other elements? I have to understand my own magic in order to know how to fix it?”

He turned back to the rocks and started climbing again. It was worth thinking of with more effort, this idea of changing the way he looked at the sickness.

“Each of the elements has a purpose, given by Iam. As it is with water, it is so with fire. Iam has no desire for your element to peter out, to diminish and go away. All the elements need to be present and in balance for the Five Tribes to exist. If one of the elements disappears, then they will all disappear. There will be no more elemental magic in the Five Tribes. Who is to say what will happen after that? Will any of the common magic survive?”

He dwelt on what she had said as he scrambled over the rocks, feet slipping on the occasional loose rock. He didn't dare look down; he'd done a steep climb for more than a few hours. The ground was probably so far away from him by now that it would make him sick to see it. He risked a glance upward, however and was pleased to see that the top was only a few handholds away.

He pulled himself up and over the edge, heaving his weight with sore and shaking arms. He was eagerly anticipating the end of his dream, when he would be able to wake up on his pallet, under a warm sleeping blanket, listening to Alys' soft snores in the tent beside his.

He pulled on his boots, then they stood at the top of the cliff, the vixen and Zyander, looking out at the canyon in front of them.

“Where are we?” he asked.

The view was incredible. He was standing on one cliff of many; as far as the eye could see, they crowded around the deep canyon like the graceful spires of the Citadel. The winds whipped at his skin and dried his eyes. If he stayed up here much longer, he would experience an almost diabolical thirst. Wind was a terrible thing up so high, but luckily, right before the rains as it was, the weather was temperate, which helped temper the biting kick of the gusts around him.

“These are the Cliffs of Iverside. Every child among the Aeris knows of them. There is a ceremony once a year, during Magna Venta, where the tribe celebrates their element's origin—here. This is their holy place, and that is why we come here today.

“Wind brings our weather, it helps to keep the birds on wing. Air is what we breathe. It is a vital part of our bodies.”

“Okay, so now what?” he asked, looking down at her.

“Now, you fly,” she said, nipping him on the ankle, teeth penetrating through the leather of his boot. He jumped.

“Ouch, what are you-” his words cut off as his foot slid on the loose rocks and he tumbled over the edge.

He screamed as he plummeted, willing himself to wake up, but instead, he fell further and further. Staring up at her foxy face looking down at him, he was astonished to hear her bark, again, “Fly!”

Somehow, he turned, like a hotcake on the griddle being flipped over. Now he was watching himself move toward certain death and instead of the mere seconds it should have taken, time was stretching, stretching, until he slowed to a stop, feet from the bottom of the dry canyon floor.

He thought about putting his feet down, to walk back along the high cliff sides until he reached the path he'd started at, but instead he wondered if maybe he could will himself upward, and fly, as the vixen had ordered. He curled his arms and legs toward the canyon floor, not to stand up, but more to arch himself up as though he was curling into a diving position.

He shouted when it pushed him up back toward the clifftop. He whooped when somehow he was able to glide upward again, pushed by the wind itself, or so it seemed. He turned circles and swooped and dipped, enjoying the weightless sensation.

Then he woke up, again.

~~~~~

“What do they mean, the dreams? Do you think Iam seeks to tell you something?” asked Alys, as they ate their evening supper.

After the third dream, he'd related the vixen and her teachings to Alys on their journey further south. Alys was full of questions; he was a curious fellow in normal situations, but this was even more interesting than usual.

“I'm not sure. Part of me thinks they are nonsense, but then why would they be serial? Why would each dream be a continuation, with the same character and the same theme?”

“It's a good question. Personally, I think they are true dreams. Have you noticed the way you rub your chest all the time now? You never used to do that.” Alys poured Zyander some more tea. Their original stash was growing smaller, but they were both well-versed in herb lore, so they were able to add to it with their findings along the way. In the same way, they dug up tubers and wild onions to add to the evening meal.

Zyander looked down at his hand, which was even now rubbing the material of his shirt over his rib cage and breast bone. He couldn't say why he did it now, except that he felt something there, growing, taking over his body.

It was only a matter of time before he lifted his shirt and saw the golden palm on his chest, he was sure of it.

Nikka had never believed in true dreams until that night. She'd never had one and had never heard of anyone who had, except for the Divinaris. The Divinaris were a species unto themselves, secretive and reticent, except for festivals, gatherings, and teaching. She had heard they dreamed of the future, telling of fortune and famine alike, to keep the tribe healthy and unified. Even if a dream was true, she'd never heard of one that showed something that happened in the past.

It was as if that story of Jerem's had been the complete opposite of what had happened in reality, except the reality was a dream that didn't make sense. Seals becoming people when on dry land? She had never heard of such a thing. She couldn't erase it from her memory and the image of the seal lad becoming human haunted her brain with a fever that wouldn't extinguish.