Jala's Mask (32 page)

“You sound just like Jala's father,” Azi said.

“Except unlike the former Lord Mosi, I'm not the one who caused all this in the first place,” his uncle said stiffly. “But I'll do what it takes to make sure the Kayet remain strong. This is the course the winds have laid for us, Azi. We'd be fools to try to steer into them instead.”

Azi met Kona's eyes. “What about your family?”

A smile tugged at the corners of Kona's mouth. “They'll get used to my Rafa name a lot faster than they'll get used to having me as their queen.”

“And you? Can you be happy as my queen? Can you still love me knowing that I chose her instead of you?”

“Of course she can,” his uncle said. “The Bardo girl made things hard on herself. It's easy enough to do what we tell her and take care of your children when you have them. She won't even have to leave her family.”

“Is that all you think a queen should be, Uncle? What about the king? Should the king simply do as you say, too?”

“I may not be your father, but I'm doing everything I can to teach you to be a good king,” his uncle said. “I won't be around forever. Listen to me now, and you'll know what to do once I'm gone. There's no reason to deny it now. That Bardo girl twisted your head around until you couldn't steer straight. But it's not too late.”

Azi turned away from his uncle. The man was more of a father to him than the old king had been, but at that moment he couldn't stand the sight of him.

“Is that what you believe?” he asked Kona. “That I was tricked by her? That I never really loved her?”

“You're still here, aren't you?” she asked.

Azi started. “What?”

“You wanted to know if I'd be happy as your queen. I don't know. I never wanted to be queen. Your uncle says you need me, and maybe you do. Maybe I can help. Everything that's happened is so much bigger than either of us. Will I love you? How can I answer that? I don't know this king I see in front of me where Azi used to be. You will not rule, but resent your uncle ruling for you. You say you love her, but do nothing to help her.”

Azi tensed. “I do love her. More than anything. But what can I do?”

“You can sail into the wind,” she said softly. “If that's what it takes to get her back.”

“What are you doing?” Lord Inas spat. “You're only confusing the boy more.”

She turned her hard stare on Lord Inas, and her expression made him fall silent. “The Kayet don't need a boy, and I don't want one.” She turned back to Azi. “If you were seduced by her, then you were a fool. Maybe I could love a fool. But if you do love her and choose instead to stay here, with me . . .” She hesitated only for a moment, just long enough to close her eyes and breathe before meeting his eyes again. “I could be your queen, but I could never love you.”

“I love her,” Azi whispered. “I'm sorry.”

“No. You're not,” she said. Her eyes glistened with tears, but she blinked them away. “You're sorry you hurt me, or you're sorry you had to see me hurt. It's not the same thing at all.”

Azi felt his own eyes burn, but he wasn't about to let her see him cry. He didn't have the right, not after what he'd done to her. After what his uncle had done, using her like nothing more than a token in a game.

“You could have stayed with me if you really wanted,” Kona went on. “But you chose her. That was easy. So choose her again now, when it's hard.”

“What am I supposed to do? Get a ship and sail off to the mainland alone?” The thought had in fact crossed his mind more than once, but it was impossible. Wasn't it?

“You were a sailor once. And you're the king.”

“Are you mad, girl?” his uncle sputtered. “Do you wish him killed?”

Kona ignored his uncle, as if he wasn't even there. “A part of me still wishes you won't go, even now,” she told Azi. “I don't want to say good-bye. But if—when—we see each other again, it'll all be different. So this is still good-bye, in a way.”

She leaned forward and kissed him, lightly, on the cheek. She smiled at him, and Azi knew it was the last time she would ever look at him like that again. Then she turned and walked away down the beach without a second glance.

Azi's uncle was still trying to find the right curses to throw at her back, the right threats.

“Uncle?” Azi said. “Shut up. Your king commands it.”

Lord Inas spun back around to face him. “Or what? You'll exile me like that wretched Bardo girl exiled her father? Go ahead. If this is what it takes to get through to you, to make you act like a king, I'll gladly go. Forget her, take any girl you want to be your queen, but let the Bardo girl go.”

“Her name is Jala,” Azi said. “Jala. Your queen. The woman I love.”

“She's a corpse, and you're throwing away your family, your throne, your
life
—”

Azi grabbed his uncle by his shirt with both hands and pulled him close, ready to shake him. He was surprised how light the man was.

“You know it's true,” his uncle said. “You're just too weak to admit it. A sentimental weakling. Jin would never have been so foolish. I don't even know whose son you are.”

He was holding him up off the ground, Azi realized. Since when had his uncle been shorter than him? Underneath his buttoned shirt the great Lord Inas was thin, wasted away with grief and wine and worry in place of food and life.

Azi set him down gently. “You've been like a father to me, and you know it,” he said. “I can't exile you, Uncle. I'm not as strong as Jala. But it's easier to let someone you love go when you don't know what it's like to lose them.”

His uncle clenched his fist, and for a moment Azi though the man would hit him. But instead Lord Inas just seemed to deflate. “So you would have me lose you because you can't bear to admit she's gone?” He sounded old. He was old, Azi realized.

“If you don't want anything to do with me when I return, that's your choice, not mine,” Azi said. “I won't just let her go. If there's even a chance, if there's something I can do . . .”

Lord Inas spat in the sand at Azi's feet, and then he, too, walked away.

His uncle was right. He was throwing it all away. Only his love for Jala would be left.

Jala, Askel, and the remaining Hashon man rode slowly back to the city. They each rode a horse of their own now. The Hashon man was in the lead. Jala's reins were tied to his saddle and Askel's tied to hers, and the remaining horses trailed behind them in a crooked line.

The desert wind blew at their backs as they rode, scouring them with sand and tugging at their clothes. Jala thought it would tear the mask off her face, but the mask didn't move.

“What will you do when you get there?” Askel whispered behind her.

“Find Natari, get Marjani, and get out of here,” Jala said. “We'll burn the grayships if we can find them.” It was what she should say, but the words sounded hollow to her, like the things she cared about mattered less than they had only hours before.

Escape, her people, even the vast expanse of desert felt small compared to that other thing slowly flooding her mind.

There is a price for this, island queen
, the voice whispered, as soft as sand, as old as the river.
Lord Stone the deceiver, my old enemy, still holds the palace, but with the Anka the people will rally to us. This is why I brought you here.

“What did you say?” Askel said. He was looking at her strangely.

“Nothing,” Jala muttered, though she wasn't sure. Her voice sounded so very far away.

Who are you?
she asked.

Who are you?
the voice of the river asked her in return.

She was the voice of the river. The true leader of the Hashon, the river-people. On her banks the people lived, and on her banks they died. When the people came down from the far-off mountains, fleeing from the cold, cruel stone, the river had taken them in and nurtured them. But the stone was jealous and stole the heart of the people. The Anka. All their stories, all that made them who they were, the stone kept as a hostage. For a while, the river was silent.

But now the Anka had returned to the river, and on the river it would stay. Lord Stone would fall, and Jala would once again take her place among the people.

Jala shook her head.
I'm not Lord Water
, she told herself. But the thought had come so easily, so naturally, just like the tongue of the Hashon had come to her when she needed it. Was this sorcery, then? Or something else? She touched the mask but dared not take it off. She needed Lord Water's voice if she was going to free her people.

There is a price . . .

There was always a price for sorcery, Askel had warned her. He'd tried to make others pay the price for him. Someone else could wear the mask. But who could she trust to free her people and burn the ships? Who was she willing to sacrifice in her place if the price for this sorcery was her life? There was no one else. She had to be the one. If she stopped now, this would all be for nothing.

“You have to remember for me,” she said to Askel. “In case I forget. We have to free everyone. We have to burn any ships we can't take. Then we have to flee this place.”

“My queen? What are you talking about?”

“If I forget myself, you have to remind me. Promise me.”

“Is it the mask, my queen? Is that what worries you? Let me wear it for you.” He sounded hungry. “I am a sorcerer, my queen. Let me use my skills to help you.”

“Promise me!” Jala said, and the power of the river was in her voice again.

Askel reared back, his eyes wide. “I promise,” he said. Then, after a long while, he spoke again. “Who are you?”

Jala faced Askel. “I am Lord Water.”

Wearing the mask, Jala walked through the city's streets with the Anka held high. Her followers—Lord Water's followers—surrounded her to protect her from those wearing the paper masks. “Stone feels nothing for you,” her followers called to people they passed. “The river brings us life. The river brings us the Anka.”

It was like living a dream. She walked and talked, but it was like she watched herself from some small part of her mind. Thoughts and feelings washed over her, engulfed her, and even though a part of her knew they were not her own, she felt and thought them all the same.

A dream, but a dream that was more real than anything she'd felt before. She could lose herself in this. She could become this.

People filled the streets. A man ran past wearing one of the fire masks, a broken chair in his hands. He threw it into the nearest window, shattering the glass. A woman ran up behind him and flung a flaming bottle of oil through the broken window panes. Within moments, flames had begun to engulf the building.

Jala kept walking. The glass from bottles and broken windows crunched under her feet.

More fires lit the sky, and the graffiti flames that marred the city's walls seemed to shimmer in the orange glow, as if they, too, might burn at any moment. Lord Stone had caused this, she knew. He'd sacrificed too many people in his drive for revenge, left too many broken families and grieving friends. Hurt, anger, and desperation had always been the kindling Lord Fire used to twist the people to his madness. He whispered to them until they put on the fire masks and let the fire carry them.

Lord Fire had been an unknowing ally to her, for a while, but now she needed the people to return to her. “You have been deceived,” she called out. Her voice echoed off mud brick walls and limestone, her voice was carried on the wind and the angry waters of the Hashana. “It was Lord Stone who stole the Anka from you, Lord Stone who sacrificed your brothers and sisters, your sons and daughters. Lord Fire would have you burn the city in your grief, but the water can quench even the strongest flames. Follow me, and let your madness wash away.”

Her words brought hope, and people looked at her with eyes clear of madness, and they saw the Anka. They believed in her, and with their belief her power grew. This was her city. These were her people. Soon even Lord Fire began to lose his hold on them, and those who were not completely lost pulled off their masks. They cried out as they began to feel the burns on their faces and ran to the river, seeking solace from their pain in its cool water.