Nahi
Finally I have some time to write. It has been a few long days on horseback and my body aches beyond belief, but I am not sure I can blame all of my discomfort on our travels. The drugged artemisia our harasha gave us last night has been slowly working its way through our bodies and my throbbing headache is proof enough of this.
Akuli says the masked man was not even a real harasha, but an imposter. The turquoise jewelry he had on beneath his black cloak would apparently never have been worn by a real one, although we’ll never know the truth since the man is dead, lying cradled in a hollowed out tree a half-day’s journey from here - far enough from the road to not be seen by wandering eyes.
But not far enough away to be caught by my wandering thoughts.
It was already very late and the three of us were situated comfortably around the fire when the harasha came back from his horse with a large waterskin and offered it to Akuli. The guardsman gave it a sniff and then nodded enthusiastically, hoisting the bag over his head and letting the drink trickle from the spout into his open mouth. Across the fire pit as I was, I could tell from the dark liquid that it was not water.
“It’s artemisia,” Akuli said, closing the bone tip and throwing the waterskin to me over the dying flames. I could see him give a nod of thanks to the silent man in black, and it was returned. “Very strong, so be careful,” Akuli warned me.
It was herbal flavored, bitter and potent, causing a chill and then a subsequent warmth to course throughout my body. I took a second sip and then threw the leather-stitched bag back to Akuli.
At the time I simply thought that the harasha was trying to be kind, showing us a quiet act of sharing on the road to the Shule, but now I know he had far different motives. Myria was already asleep, curled up next to me under her blankets, but Akuli and I were primarily the ones he was worried about. Drugging us with the artemisia would make his job significantly easier hours from then. And now that I think about it, the harasha never drank a sip from his own waterskin - but of course before the end of the night Akuli and I took many.
Much later a scream brought me awake.
With a curse I frantically tried to get up, but I realized that my hands were bound tightly behind my back. I was able to knock the heavy blanket off my head with repeated violent kicks and immediately saw Akuli lying next to me, his body limp and his face bloodied. He was not bound as I was, I realized, and his fingers twitched as if his mind was caught in a bad dream.
A second scream came forth and I arched my chest and shoulders up so that I could see the source of it. Past the glowing embers I could see Myria standing in the distance near the ring of trees. Most of her body was covered in shadow and then I understood why – she was in the arms of the cloaked harasha, and the harasha’s back was facing me.
My eyes were cloudy and had trouble adjusting, but I could still understand what was happening. She was being pushed up against a thick truck of a tree, and the harasha was slapping her hard in the face as she continued to yell out for help.
I slithered on my chest over to Akuli, using my feet to push myself across the fine-grained dirt and spin myself around. I urgently whispered to him and kicked his side forcefully with my bare feet, but soon realized that he would not be waking soon. Akuli was either unconscious or dead, but in either case he was completely useless.
On the ground next to him were three objects: a large rock the size of his head, a gold dagger (dropped by either the guardsman or the harasha), and the half-full wineskin of artemisia from earlier in the evening.
Kicking myself into position, I blindly found the gold dagger behind myself and clasped it with my bound hands.
“Just what do you think you’re doing, gardener?” It took me a second before I realized that it was my harasha talking. After the initial surprise of hearing him (of all people) speak, I made the mental note that he had a higher-pitched voice than what I expected.
He was craning his neck anxiously back at me as he most likely was trying to undo either Myria’s riding pants or his own, buried beneath the dark folds of his cloak. I saw his masked face look my way briefly before turning back to Myria, obviously not concerned with me for the moment.
“Akuli, take this,” I said, feigning that he was awake. I desperately tried to cut away my binds behind my back but soon realized the futility of doing so. Lying there on the ground as I was, I knew it would take me many minutes, if not hours, to break free. As such, my best option was to lure the man towards me. “Take the dagger. Quick!”
“Looks like I have to finish him off, doesn’t it?”
It worked. The cloaked man let Myria go and swung back in my direction. From my tilted vantage point I saw him walk over to Akuli and me until he stood directly over us. All I could see were his boots, but I could hear him curse as he realized that I had tricked him and that Akuli was not awake at all. But by the time turned back towards Myria she had fled, running into the darkness of the thinned out forest past our camp. Over the crackling sound of the glowing embers in front of me I could hear her wide steps – the soft crunch as her bare feet touched the dry pine needles of the forest floor.
“You unclean bastard, now I’m going to have to chase after her.”
I swung my legs out, catching him off-guard. Scissoring my feet just so between the folds of his cloak, I wedged his legs between mine and sat up, coiling my upper body around his waist to knock him down onto the dying embers. He let out a high-pitched growl as both of our bodies hit the ground and ashes billowed up into the air. Bright red and blue charred fragments covered both of us, and the man tried urgently to get away but I kept him in place with my clenched legs.
His screams told me that the fire was burning him, but it was obviously not hot enough to engulf him in flames as I had hoped. Arms flailing within the folds of his cloak, he most likely was searching for a knife and so I assumed I only had a few seconds, if that.
Eventually he reached out and hit me, not with a blade but a large half-burnt log which must have been resting by his side. It broke apart upon impact with my head, but it still stung and I lost my grip on his legs and spun away. This was probably fortunate, since just then I saw the waterskin lying in the dirt at my side. It lay directly between me and the harasha, angled perfectly on the fire.
Lurching my body one last desperate time, I landed onto the bladder-shaped bag and watched on as a fine stream of dark liquid curved up into the night air and back down onto the red and blue coals. A fountain of fury, it landed perfectly in the center and immediately awoke the sleeping flames. The harasha was on his knees by then, situated perfectly over the fire. As the flames rose they found the black fabric and within seconds he was consumed.
Lit up in bright orange, he ran around in screaming panic for a few moments before sensibly dropping to the ground and falling away from view. Soon all I could hear were the muffled sounds of him rolling in the dirt and his whimper-like cries. Although I could not see him, I could see the orange glow cast onto the ringing trees, which eventually started dimming.
Meanwhile I had found the gold dagger again and was working feverishly to cut the rope behind my back, but my progress was painfully slow. I had cut through one strand and was working on the next when I heard him get up again.
I clenched my eyes in frustration as I realized that the harasha would not be burnt to death as planned, but only seriously injured - and I knew then that he was venomously coming back for me. The sounds coming out of his mouth were not even words and they were getting louder.
Turning onto my back, I raised my feet in a defensive posture, ready to kick him as he came near. It was my only option.
When he stumbled into my field of vision I opened my mouth in shock, staring up into his gruesome appearance. Much of his black cloak had been burnt away, including the mask which had covered his face. Instead I looked into his brilliant red eyes which reflected the light of the fire, yet part of me wondered if it was not a reflection at all but his rage showing instead. He was grimacing in pain, as if smiling wildly for a portrait. Only after he took a few more staggering steps closer I saw that his lips were completely gone.
“I was only supposed to get rid of your companions,” he said, his voice sounding oddly tinny, as if it was far away. “You, I was supposed to bring to the intercessor, but now I can’t do that anymore. Now I need to give you the pain. First I’m going to burn away your golden hair of yours, and then the rest of-”
He stopped in mid-sentence and uttered a short exhale, seeming to hold his breath for the longest time before leaning forward slowly and falling to the ground directly in front of me. With my mouth still open in shock, I saw a single arrow coming out of his back, the light blue and green feathers at the end looking very familiar.
It was one of Akuli’s arrows.
Shifting my gaze to the darkness beyond, I saw Myria standing there by the ring of trees. Dropping Akuli’s bow at her feet, she ran towards me then, kneeling down and cutting away my binds.
We sat there in the dirt in silence, too shaken to speak. Holding each other tightly, we waited until the dawn.
Akuli awoke the next morning to the relief of Myria and me, and together the three of us hid the harasha’s body after searching it. We found nothing interesting on the body itself (besides the elaborate turquoise necklaces which I wrote about earlier). As for his saddle pack, besides the usual travel gear we found a roll of unspent hilma and bone pipe, another spare black harasha’s cloak and mask, and an unusually large number of gold coins.
Dropping the gold coins onto the dirt, I exhaled in frustration. “Who was this man?” I asked Akuli and Myria.
“Or more importantly what did he want?” asked Myria. “If it was not to escort you to the Shule.”
“He said he was supposed to take me to the intercessor, whatever that means. It was one of the last things he said before you put an arrow through him. I can only assume that he was speaking about the high priest I spoke to in the palace conservatory yesterday. Finn was his name, I believe.”
“He was going to kill Akuli and me,” Myria said.
I nodded. “You two were expendable.”
“Perhaps it was not just this Finn person, but all the intercessors,” Akuli said. “Maybe it was their plan all along to capture you and we fell into their trap.”
“Would they resort to such drastic measures, and why?” I asked.
Myria exhaled as she shook her head. “No. I would be shocked if they would ever condone unclean behavior such as what this man did. Besides, if they wanted you they could have simply trapped you in the city.”
“Well, whoever is involved, there’s definitely a conspiracy going on.”
“That’s as sure as the Mother’s Sea,” Myria said. “But what can we do about it now?”
“We should return to the palace,” I said. “We can carry his body back with us on his horse and notify Chaliani. Your father too-”
Myria was shaking her head vigorously before tilting her head, almost in annoyance. “And what would that prove?”
“It would prove that at least one of the intercessors has other motives. That there is an agenda.”
“There is no proof in what you are saying,” Akuli said flatly. “The high priests will deny it and say that we murdered this man, and you will be caught within the same web which you fled from.”
I looked down in thought until Myria touched my arm and spoke softly. “There is nothing back there for us, Anon. Danger lies in front of us as well as behind us, but the answer to the Still is only this way.” Even though I was still staring at the dead body and strewn coins I could tell she was pointing down the path in the direction we would soon be traveling. “This is our goal. Towards the Still.”
After a moment I looked up at both of them and felt the conviction in their silence. “Fine,” I said. “But we’ll need to carry this body into the woods. We can’t have anyone else stumble across it.”
“I’ll take care of it in a moment,” Akuli said as he gathered the spare harasha cloak from the dead man’s saddle pack and tossed it to me roughly, adding, “Here. Try this on.”
“What for?”
“To see if it fits,” he added dryly.
I didn’t know what Akuli had in mind but I put the cloak on anyway, and the mask as well. The latter seemed to be made out of feathers – it was light on my face such that I could breathe easily underneath it. The cloak seemed to be of very good quality as well, again lightweight, almost synthetic in its appearance although I knew it wasn’t. I turned around in place, seeking Myria’s and Akuli's reaction.
"It's a little short," Akuli said, "but it will do. No one will notice. Put your hood up for a moment.”
Summoning my patience, I did as he asked.
“Make sure you do that from now on. Keep you hood up at all times, otherwise I can see your light hair."
Letting down my hood and removing the mask, I said, “I’m not doing anything until you tell me what this is all about.”
He hunched his shoulders. “It’s only a suggestion. I see no better way to disappear into the Shule without doing this.”
“Are you worried that there are more false harashai looking for me?” I pointed to the dead body at my feet.
“No, but news of your coming has most likely reached the city of exiles ahead of us and so they will be waiting for you-”
“How do they know we’re coming? No one has passed us on these roads-”
He pointed upwards. “By the wing.”
I exhaled. “Well, I’ve got nothing to hide,” I said. “I walked freely in the city with Myria without issue, and I will walk freely in the Shule as well.”
Akuli let out a bitter laugh. “The Shule is not like the city, gardener.”
“And how would you know, guardsman?” Myria snapped back in reply.
“Because I’ve been there.”
Myria and I looked at each other in surprise before turning our attention back to Akuli. “You’ve been to the Shule?” Myria asked.
“Twice.”
“Are there children there?” she asked, taking a step closer to him.
He nodded. “Yes, I’ve seen a few.”
“Why didn’t you say something before?” she asked, her voice full of both anger and happiness.
He shrugged his lean shoulders. “I never could admit it, else I risk exile myself. And even if I did, nobody would believe me.”
“I’m not even sure I do,” she said. Still, she smiled at me in disbelief.
Akuli continued on. “Believe me when I say to you the city of exiles is no Nahi City. There may be a few children here or there, but they will rob you blindly while you look upon them in pity. And they are the least of our worries. The rings will fight amongst themselves to capture the gardener here, since they will rightfully assume the Eye will pay a large sum for his safe return. Therefore we need to disguise Anon until we are able to find a safe place to stay. And a harasha is a perfect disguise, since no unclean would ever harm one.”
“And why’s that?” I asked.
"You know who they are. Chaliani told you."
"He didn't tell me much. Only that they are in charge of the criminals. Transporting them out of the city. Protecting them as well."
"What else do you want to know?"
"Well, for one, why do you think I'm safe feigning as one?"
He shrugged. "Because nobody attacks a harasha,” he said, as if I had asked the stupidest of questions.
"So that's my question. Why?"
"Because that's all these miserable people have. The Intercessors write the law. The guardsmen enforce it and defend the lawful. The harashai defend the unlawful. It’s just the way it is.” He turned towards Myria. “May I borrow some of your lip paint? I know you have some. I saw the way you reddened your lips after you went to the river a few days back.”
“Why would you ask me such a question?”
“Because if you have a harasha, you need an unclean.”
Shaking her head in annoyance, she walked to her mount and started rummaging through her own pack. Finally finding a short slender stick wrapped in golden foil, she carefully gave it to the lanky guardsman. “Be careful with it,” she said.
“I will,” he said as he sat down among the wildflowers near our clearing and took out his dagger.
“What in the Mother’s Sea are you doing now?” Myria asked.
Ignoring her, he started painting a word on his forehead with the red stick, using his dagger as a mirror. While he worked, Myria and I simply watched, finally sitting down ourselves once we realized it would take some time. And all the while, I wondered about him.
I figured that Akuli was perhaps a few years younger than me, but his appearance and disposition both hid this fact. He was bald and certainly tanner than the rest of us, and the overall feeling one got when watching him was that of a sinewy efficiency. He was almost gaunt, one could say, but at the same time I knew that he was not weak – far from it actually. He had single piercings in his ears as well, from which hung blackened pearls.
I lay back, giving up on trying to understand the complexities of the elusive man and gazed instead at the multicolored buds surrounding me, and the blue sky beyond – the simple things which needed no explanation. I had almost died the night before and I spent the next few minutes appreciating the life around and inside me until I spoke up again.
"What does it say?" I called out while still starring into the sky.
"Murderer,” he answered after a lengthy pause.
"So this is our disguise then?” I asked no one in particular as I pulled the petals from a nearby flower. “You're to be my prisoner, convicted of murder. I am your harasha. Myria is what? Accompanying you?"
Everyone was silent for some time, but after a while Akuli surprised me by speaking up.
"The disguise is only for you, Anon. You are dressed as a harasha, which you obviously are not. By the time we are on our way back from the Shule, I will have killed someone. So it really won't be a disguise anymore for me. It will be the truth.”
I sat up then and looked at Myria, noticing that she had the same look of confusion upon her face that was most likely on mine.
“Who do you plan on killing?” I asked softly.
Akuli’s eyes darted to mine behind the gleaming dagger. “You should start getting used to your disguise, Anon. And the harashai do not speak.”
A few hours ago we set up camp just before dusk so Akuli would have enough light to hunt by and during that time Myria and I gathered wood for the fire. Earlier in the day I started wearing the harasha mask and robe since we are figuring we will start meeting others in the road, but by then I removed them both since we were alone.
“Do you know him well?” she asked me. We were walking slowly through the forest as we gathered the fire wood, the light around us a deep purplish blue with the fading sun.
I knew she was speaking about Akuli. “No,” I said. “Not nearly enough. I know Chaliani appointed him as my personal guard, and I’ve reached out to him a few times but he’s been always detached. I figured that as a guardsman that was expected of him.” I turned to her. “You?”
She shook her head absently, looking down at the ground. “I met him for the first time the other day. As you know, I tend not to stay in the palace much these days.”
“There is something not right about him,” I said, knowing the real reason why she brought him up.
“I know,” she said highly, picking up a log and then dropping it again once she realized that it was rotted through. “There is something that is consuming him. It is scary, Anon.” She wiped her hand on her thigh, turning to me. “I feel that we have just escaped the clutches of a dangerous man, only to land in the palm of another. Do you know where he plans on leading us once we are there?”
“No. He only said that he had been to the Shule many times before and knew of a place to stay.”
“Mother’s Sea knows where he’ll lead us.” Finding a long slender branch, she cracked it in two.
“It’s going to be fine,” I said. “We will let him lead us for the time being since it makes sense right now. He’s the only one who’s been there, and we can use him. Once that stops working for us we will leave him if necessary. I will not let his obsessions divert us from what we are here for.” I found a solid branch and broke it in half using my foot as leverage. A dry snap echoed throughout the woods and I could hear birds take wing in the distance.
“You could leave him so easily?” she asked me.
“Yes.”
“Do you feel that way about everyone you meet?” I could tell from her voice that she was being playful, as if challenging that I would think that way towards her as well. “Like they are pieces in a game of antitwin, to be discarded when they serve your purpose?”
“What did you say?” I turned around to meet her gaze.
“It was a jest and not a good one at that,” she said, thinking that I was perhaps offended.
“No, no. The game. The pieces on the board. What game did you say?”
“Antitwin?”
“Yes,” I said. “You know of it?”
“Why of course I do, Anon. I am an intercessor’s daughter, not some easy bar maid. I learned the game of games when I was only seven washes old, and I’m very good at it too, mind you. Probably could teach you a thing or two.” She paused. “Are you all right?”
She had been walking the entire time but had turned around noticing that I had stopped. I closed my mouth and hurried up to meet her as we continued to walk back towards our camp, the growing bundle of sticks getting heavier with each passing moment.
“It’s just that I think I might know that game,” I said.
“Well, I sure hope so,” she said, but then I saw the comprehension in her eyes. “Oh,” she exhaled, her voice extending. “You mean from where you come from?”
“Yes,” I said. “What are the pieces called? They are black and white? Ten pairs?”
She nodded. “Yes. Ten pairs of pieces, each pair making up one light and one dark piece. The gardeners are the most powerful yet exposed pieces. If your opponent captures your gardener, they win the game, yet you need to win with yours.” Myria looked sideways at me with a smile. “Based on that scar of yours, the gardener pieces would be you. And then we have the two harashai, which I guess could be you as well, given the wonderful costume which you have packed away. After that, let’s see, we have the two intercessors, the two Eyes of Nahi, the two fishermen, the beasts, the pair of unclean, the infants, and the guardsmen.” She was speaking more quietly as she progressed, as if she realized that the players in the game were in fact starting to mimic reality in a very close way.
“Do you know these pieces?” she asked me.
Underneath the bundle of twigs I had been counting along with my fingers. “No,” I said. “The game of antitwin I know uses different names. But you mentioned only nine,” I said.
“Nine? Are you sure?” She started going through them again and then I caught the one she had missed previously. It was the pair of women.
“Ah, yes. The infamous pair of women,” she said. “Apparently the person who created the game of antitwin valued the role of women so much that in his unbridled enthusiasm he dedicated an entire two pieces to our sex. Isn’t that generous of him?”
I smiled. “Well, you have roles like fisherman, gardener, and infant. I imagine those pieces could be made female, correct? There is nothing gender-specific about them.”
“That’s true, and I’ve played many a board where the pieces do in fact resemble women. But these pieces I speak of – the two women – they represent the woman in the dream of the gardener. You know the story, do you not?”
I nodded. “I most certainly do. Chaliani brought me his personal book of the intercessors while I stayed at the palace. Reading it helped me greatly at the time, so I ripped it out and bound it in my journal.” Thinking about that story while we walked, I grew curious and asked her a question.
“What’s their function in the game?”
“The pair of women? Oh, well, I said before that they are infamous, and it is because of their role on the board. It is said that one loses a game by forgetting about the gardener, but one wins a game by never forgetting about the woman.”
“I’m not sure I follow you.”
“It’s all about manipulation. You can control where your opponent’s gardener piece is by using your woman piece as long as it is the opposite color. If the gardener’s piece is dark and your woman’s piece is dark, then they will not know each other. Same with the white pieces. But if they are the opposite, then he will be drawn to her. But of course the woman has no power herself.” She looked at me briefly with a playfully irritated expression. “So she can only used as a lure.”
I nodded as we reentered the clearing of our camp. Akuli was not back yet, and I dropped the large bundle at my feet near where I thought the fire would be before taking the lighter bundle from her and doing the same. It was fairly dark by then. The only light was from the random pink sparks filling the air – illuminated insects calling out to one another.
“You said that I am the gardener,” I said.
“Well, that’s certainly what everyone is calling you. Personally I don’t see your mark as being that significant. It is only a scar-”
“That’s not my point. Don’t you see it?”
“See what?”
“You’re obviously the woman piece,” I said.
She was silent, but then spoke up. “I don’t see how I fit that role besides being a woman myself-”
“Think about it. The same-colored pieces who don’t know one another. How I knew you, yet you didn’t know me. You don’t think that sounds oddly familiar?”
Silence continued as I knew she was pondering the ramifications. Wishing to see her expression in the dusk, I approached her.
“Yes, but now we know one another,” she said quietly. “Like the oppositely colored pieces on the board.”
“And now I am incredibly drawn to you.”
I took her face in my hands and kissed her in the darkness of the clearing, fearing that she would recoil from my advances but then feeling her relax in my arms. We stood there long enough for the forest to forget us. A chorus of creatures far above us began singing, something between the melodic chirpings of birds and the rhythmic buzzing of insects. Whatever they were, they eventually quieted down with the sound of Akuli walking near.
“You’re forgetting one thing,” she said quietly to me, biting her lip. “In the game of antitwin, the woman is used as a lure. Nobody seems to be doing that to me.”
“That’s what I’m worried about,” I replied. “Maybe they are, and we just don’t realize it yet.”
By the time the three of us were eating, the chorus from our nocturnal friends above us was filling the night air again (which still sings even as I write this) and we were silently listening to it while we ate. It stopped the second Akuli asked me a question.
"Do you know what they really are?" He was looking up at the stars through a break in the trees.
I was so surprised at the question, at a question, that I was speechless for a long time. At last I answered him. "The stars? Yes. I know more than I'd care to."
"Tell me about them."
"I'd be happy to, but are you sure you wish to know? Perhaps you might be more comfortable with the ideas you already have."
"The Father Sea spread his seed across the sky, and one of them landed in the Mother Sea, thus creating Nahi. That is our belief. Is that not yours?"
"No."
"What do you believe, then?"
When thinking of an answer I didn’t care if I hurt Akuli’s feelings (nor did I think I even could), but I did care about what Myria would think. She was sitting next to me, listening aptly. And the more I thought about it, the more I knew that truthfulness was the best option.
"I'm not sure what I believe anymore," I said curtly.
“Tell me,” he said.
“You’re sure you want this knowledge? Once you hear it, it will be with you forever. I am asking both of you.”
“Go on,” Akuli said.
I turned to Myria. “How do you feel about this?”
“Well, apparently I’ve been up there with you,” she said. “Everyone says that I died in the shipwreck in the Palm of the Father so it shouldn’t really be a surprise to me, should it?”
“True enough,” I said.
So in the end I gave them both the brutal truth, even though I knew it would probably not help them much. I gave them numbers, definitions, statistics, scientific concepts they had no hope in understanding in the five minutes of my ramblings. And when I finally finished, I looked up at the glorious simplicity of the night sky from my humble vantage point of the forest floor and my explanation almost seemed amiss. Down here, Akuli's words made more sense to me.
"So all of these stars,” Akuli eventually said. “Each of them is a sun like ours, only far away?”
“Yes.”
“You said some of them are already dead? That the light from the sun is all that remains for us to see?"
"That's true."
"Is it the same with people, Anon? Good people die, go back into the Father Sea, yet their light remains here?"
I truthfully told him that was a profound correlation I had not thought of before.
There was a period of silence before the chorus above us gathered its nerve to start up again. All for nothing – Akuli's voice silenced it once more.
"If that's true, then the man whose name is Utte is the opposite. His light has died washes ago, yet now his body lives on here. You should know that when I find him, I will send his body back to where his light is.”
I turned to him sharply. “Utte? This is the man you intend to kill?”
But only the chorus of the night replied.