The Red Sea (24 page)

"I told you to leave us be," the woman said.

Her voice sounded nearly identical to the old woman's. She had the same symmetrical face, the same light irises shot through with dark brown. With a jolt, Dante realized she
was
the old woman.

Niles lowered himself to one knee. "Lord of this land. Forgive our intrusion."

"I reserve my forgiveness for those who deserve it." The woman was handsome, made moreso by the easy command in her eyes. "I don't know which is worse. That two usurpers have come to us, or that they've brought two outlanders with them."

Niles blinked at the sand, cheeks flushing. His jaw worked, but he couldn't find any words.

"We're not any happier to be here," Blays said. "We're trapped on the island. If you don't help us, sooner or later we're going to die, and then you'll
never
be rid of us."

The woman leaned on her staff. "You think you'd be allowed here? Have you seen any of the usurpers in our city?"

"Well, no. But I've been a little distracted by the flying oceans and floating trees."

"Here's a question for you," Dante said. "Do you want to spend the rest of your time here fighting to keep us out?"

She smiled tightly. "At least you're more amusing than these weeping toadies." She flicked her hand at Niles, who remained kneeling; her monkey mimicked her gesture. "What do you want?"

"To learn how to lift the ronone."

"I am glad to tell you in truth I don't know."

"Those who came before you knew. You've never asked them about what wiped out your people?"

"I know the cause: the Mallish."

Dante tensed his jaw. "But surely you were curious about the sickness."

"I'm happy to be dead. Why should I care what killed me? When a bird sings for you, do you ask it why? If so, it's no wonder the birds don't speak to you."

"Those who came before you knew, didn't they? Couldn't you ask them?"

She drummed her fingers against her staff. "That would be in my power."

"Then what can we do to convince you to aid us?"

"I don't know. Make me an offer, outlander."

"In my world, I'm a sorcerer. One of the most powerful there is."

"And this matters to me how?"

Dante gestured at the air, groping for answers. "I could help your descendants. Heal them, if they're sick. Or build them stone fortresses to keep them safe. Do you know what they're using now? Wooden shacks. At the mercy of fire, storms, enemy attacks."

"That's because their brains have been made stupid by Mallish blood," she said. Dante would have sworn the monkey chuckled at this. "Besides, I don't care for my descendants' lives. I'd rather they die. The sooner they're brought to the truth, the happier they'll be."

"I've traveled far. I've seen wondrous things and know many secrets. I can tell you about parts of the world you never knew."

"And will never see. So what's the point?"

"Then I could…" he trailed off, shooting a glance at Blays.

"Don't look at me," Blays said. "She's got a pretty good point."

Dante turned to Winden. "Please tell me you're more help than he is."

She pressed her lips together, regarding the sand. "If your god stepped down before you, what would you offer him?"

"My devotion. I have nothing else."

The Dresh woman laughed ringingly. "Your devotion interests me about as much as the sand fleas that used to bite my ass."

She drove her staff into the sand. Her eyes ballooned to the size of plates, then stormheads. Dante willed himself to stay on the beach. As her eyes engulfed him, he launched into a stream of invectives. He was cut off halfway through by the clap of water swallowing him up.

He shot to the surface of the cloud-wrapped sea. "Son of a bitch!"

Niles glared at him, water streaming down his goatee. "I told you to hang on!"

"I tried! It was too slippery."

"What was? Your attention? The rest of us were doing fine."

"Then why are
you
here?"

"Because we're together," Niles said. "All part of the same dream. The same will. So do your damned job!"

Dante kicked at the water beneath him. "And you're quite the teacher, aren't you? Such a marvelous leader. No wonder that, now that my father's gone, you're about to lose the entire island to the Tauren."

A knife appeared in Niles' hand. Dante felt a pang of fear. He reached for the nether. When none came, the fear doubled—and then he remembered Niles couldn't hurt him, either. And he laughed.

"This arguing," Winden said. "Is it getting us closer to our answers? Or are you two like the south wind: hot air we can only pray will go away?"

Niles put away the knife, cheeks as flushed as they'd been beneath the Dresh woman's judgment. "You're right. Anger will get us nowhere." He shifted his gaze to Dante. "And you're right, too. I'm not the man your father was. But I was his friend for a very long time. He had more patience than either of us. That's part of why he was such a good leader—and a fine teacher, too."

"There was a time when I might have cared," Dante said. "The Pastlands cured me of that."

"Good for you. As for me, I figure I owe him one. I will get you off these islands. Right now, that means getting this right. Are you ready to listen?"

"If it helps me out of here? Absolutely."

"Very good." Niles shut his eyes, visibly composing himself. "When you're willing yourself across these waters, or to stay put in the village. What are you doing?"

"Is this a trick question? I'm willing myself."

"Are you willing yourself to float right now?"

"Mostly, I'm willing myself not to punch you. But yes. I'm floating."

"Look to where your body is in contact with the water," Niles said. "What do you see?"

Dante dropped his eyes to the sea. "Water."

"Drop your brattiness for one second and
look
!"

He glanced up, startled, then looked back to the water. Light danced around him. At first he thought it was the sun, but that was obscured by the fog. He went still, keeping himself propped up with thought alone. Pure white light ringed him, surrounding his trunk and legs, glowing beneath the waves.

He'd seen such light before. The last time had been less than two weeks ago in Bressel.

"This place," Dante said. "It's made out of ether."

Dante gazed down at the light. Stupefied. Dazzled.

Beside him, Blays snorted. "This is some big surprise? Doesn't the
Cycle
claim the whole heavens are made out of ether?"

"Yes," Dante said. "But I'm controlling it. We all are. Just as we move the nether in our world."

Niles drifted nearer. "Your will is what shapes it. When you float here, or swim toward the village, or try to stop the woman from tossing you out, this is what you must grab tight."

Hesitantly, Dante reached for the ether the same way as he would the nether. It came reluctantly, a fraction as readily, but a bit pooled in his hand, shining like mercury lit from within. Now that he called to it, and knew where to look, he saw it everywhere: on the surface of the water, on his clothes and skin, in the tiny droplets of the fog. Everywhere the nether wasn't—rather than hiding in the cracks, like the nether did, ether seemed to line and coat things. Though it was possible that that was simply how it worked in the Mists, where
everything
was ether.

He dismissed it, summoned it, and repeated. He felt as feeble as a man taking his first steps after battling off consumption, yet at the same time, he felt impossibly strong, shot through with power. Before this, he'd never so much as seen the ether unless someone else had summoned it. Now that he'd broken through, though? He thought he might be able to do so back in the world as well.

He continued his practice. Summoning. Releasing. Around him, the others chatted with each other. Bobbing in the middle of the ocean, it was unnerving to divert so much of his attention to the ether, but the water wasn't cold, there was no danger of currents, and as far as he knew, any sharks in the Mists subsisted on wishes and light.

He'd long ago given up any hope of ever being able to grasp the ether. If he'd been on his own, he could easily have continued his study of it for hours, if not days. Knowing that time was passing slower to his body made that thought even more appealing. If this was a breakthrough, though, he could return to it later. In the meantime, he had a death curse to lift.

"I'm ready," he said. "This is the last bath we'll take today."

They swam forward. The ocean rushed past them, its low waves sheened with a light of their own. As they traveled, Dante delved into the ether, feeling its malleability, its ties to this place.

Land resolved ahead. They'd hardly waded ashore before the Dresh woman emerged from the banyans lining the beach. Three jone trotted beside her, tusks jutting from their maws, heads bullishly thick. This time, she was no older than Dante, her face hard and unlined, her muscles lean and cat-like. She carried a tall spear tipped with a six-inch saw-edged tooth.

"This is the third time I ask you to leave," she said. "If you come here again, I'll bring my people with me—and you'll spend the next nine years fermenting in an eel's belly."

Dante moved to face her. "That's how you and your people want to spend your days? Torturing us? Your every second spent trapped with us in our pain?"

"We're here forever. What does a few years matter to us?"

"Do you think it matters any more to me? I'm trapped on this island. I'll spend my entire life fighting to get out of here."

"And it will be wasted."

Her eyes expanded, filling his vision. Dante reached into the ether in the sand and the air, holding on with everything he had, insisting to the Mists that he stay there with his friends on the beach. The Dresh woman's eyes ceased growing. They wavered, flickering like the frenzied beat of a mouse's heart against its ribs, then contracted.

The woman fell back a step. She cried out, drew back her spear, and slung it at Dante's chest. He asked it not to touch him. Somehow, it wound up behind him, massive tooth buried in the sand, shaft wagging up and down. He was beyond glad he hadn't had to find out how much that would have dream-hurt.

She pressed her palm to her brow. "Why don't you just
die
?"

"It sure would be easier than this," Blays said.

"All your cares would fall from you like a leaden robe. Do you have any idea what it's like? How free you could be? You see what we have here. Why would you choose to struggle and ache when you know the peace that awaits you?"

The sun broke free of the mists, warming Dante's skin. A breeze blew off the water, cooling him perfectly. The air in his lungs refreshed him like the first drink of water in the morning. At once, the woman before him was so beautiful it hurt to look at her. By comparison, he felt shabby, shopworn. Why
did
he fight on? There was no nobility in suffering, was there? If he was bound for this place anyway, why not cut to the chase?

"Odds are we'll be back here sooner than we'd like," Blays said. "Until then, we've got business in our world."

"You don't have to." She reached out and touched Blays' face; tines of jealousy pierced Dante's heart. "You can choose death at any time."

Dante found his voice. "We don't belong here. Not yet. The gods must have created the two worlds for a reason. We'll stay in ours until they decide it's time to take us."

"Your world exists to make this one feel like a blessing. You can feel it's true, can't you?"

Blays folded his arms. Steam rose from his sleeves. "Why are
you
still here? Why not move on to the Worldsea? That's what you're supposed to do, isn't it?"

She smiled at him. "Hate. Hate for those who flensed us from our land."

"And we hate the Tauren," Niles said. "That's why we have to go back."

The woman's smile fell away. She moved before him, gliding, and stuck her finger in his face. "You lie. You tell yourself tonen so you don't have to face the darkness. It isn't the Tauren that propels your struggle."

His voice was a whisper. "No."

"Then why? What drives you to come here where you don't belong?"

"Because we hate ourselves! For what we did to you! We've devoted everything to your forgiveness and it's still not enough."

She sputtered with laughter. "How could it be? All your pleading and sobbing, has it brought any of us back? Returned the island that was taken from us?"

"We know we can't do that," Niles said, voice ragged. "Sometimes I don't know why we try. None of us were alive when it happened. Why do we still feel responsible?"

"You didn't just kill us. You took our skin. You're still wearing it today."

"I think we—they—did that to honor you, in their way. To let you live on in the only way they knew how. They would have undone it, if they could. But they couldn't. Neither can we. But we'll do anything to make it right."

The Dresh woman sighed out all her anger, turning to face the sea. "You say this. Yet you let the Tauren profane our sacred place."

"The Dreaming Peaks?"

"The only part of your world that still matters to us."

"Do you want us to clear them out?" Dante said. "And then you'll tell us what we need to know?"

"We're getting so tired of this." She crouched beside the waves, letting her fingertips dangle in the lapping water. "All the bowing and scraping. The Dreamers—so patient. So kindly. So exhausting. Maybe it's time we set the past aside." She clawed her fingers into the purple sand, scooping up a handful and casting it into the waves. "Toss the Tauren out of our place. And I'll find out what you want to know."

"But they're too strong," Niles said.

"No—you're too
weak
. Until you've proven your strength, you'll have nothing." She picked up her spear and stood. "Don't come back until then. If you do, all of the Dresh will pass into the Worldsea. And all forgiveness will go with us."

She walked down the shore. The three jone padded beside her, nosing at the shells dotting the beach.

"Well, we still don't have answers," Blays said. "But we weren't dropped into anything hideous, either. I'll count that as a win."

Winden shifted her feet. "I don't know if we can trust her to keep her end of the bargain."

"We have to," Niles said. "If we had any better options, we would never have come here in the first place. We have to take back the Dreaming Peaks."

Dante eyed him. "Is this why you're helping me? To continue your fight against the Tauren?"

Niles folded his arms. "Like I knew what they'd ask of us? Coming here was your idea."

"Still, it's mighty convenient. To get what I want, I have to help you get what you've wanted all along."

"This is the path we've been given. If you'd rather walk it alone, that's your call."

Overhead, the fog returned, blocking out the sun. "We'll deal with whoever's in the Dreaming Peaks. But that's as far as I'll get involved."

"If we hit them there, you know they'll retaliate," Blays said. "They might even come for Kandak."

"They'll do that eventually no matter what we do. By hitting them in the Peaks, at least we'll have softened them up for the Kandeans."

Niles had said that all they had to do to go home was to fall asleep. They headed into the shade and lay down. Despite the dense atmosphere, there was plenty of light. Between that and everything swimming through his head, Dante was afraid it would take hours to fall asleep. But after a few minutes, it greeted him as if it had been waiting for him.

He inhaled through his nose, taking in the dewy mountain air. He opened his eyes. He lay on the blankets in the temple. Outside, it was dark. He felt so hungry and shaky that he could have believed they'd been under for days.

The others stirred on their blankets and mattresses, groaning. While they stretched and rubbed their eyes, Dante extended his hand and reached for the ether. The room remained dark. His heart beat faster. Frustration twisted a cold knife in his heart.

And then light glimmered on the back of his hand.

He grinned. "Winden. I need paper and ink."

She sat up, massaging her temples. "And I need a minute to recover before I start taking orders."

Blays stood, planting his palms in the small of his back and stretching backwards. "You have got to be the most boring person I know. We just got back from the underworld, where we were tasked with casting down an awful villain, and the first thing you want to do is write in your diary about it?"

Dante got up to search the room. "I have to get this down. What we saw there—it's worthy of a
Cycle
of its own."

He found quills and a pot of ink—possibly the same instruments Niles had used to write him the fraudulent paternal letter of summons—and located a blank book among the volumes on the shelves. He retired to one of the back rooms and began to write. An hour later, the light of his torchstone faded and he ignited a candlefruit. Hours later, this dimmed and he used it to light another.

Before the second fruit faded, daylight crept through the open walls. Dante finished, leaving some thirty blank pages for later notes, and sat back. His hand was cramped and his back wasn't much better off, but he felt energized. At last, some small good had come from traveling to the islands. Even if he couldn't leave here, his work could. And what he'd learned would change everything they knew in Narashtovik.

The others had gotten some sleep, but were soon woken by the cardinals cheeping from outside. After a meal of san gruel, the four of them gathered in the shade of the porch.

"Do we know how many people the Tauren have in the Dreaming Peaks?" Blays said.

Niles pursed his lips. "Both our scouts have been lost. We had to pull back behind the Broken Valley. Before that, reports were they had some twenty men there. And at least one sorcerer at all times."

"That doesn't sound like much."

"They may be counting on us not wanting to fight on sacred ground. Or they may believe we wouldn't dare provoke them. It's also possible they intend to use it as a staging ground for more raids, but don't want to commit too many troops there before they're ready."

"Can we call on your warriors for help? Or do we still need to keep our endeavors a secret?"

"I'll tell our people we have to drive the enemy out of the holy peaks." Niles smiled wanly. "It won't even be a lie. It's a strategical maneuver, too. Seizing the overland route will make it much harder for the Tauren to strike Kandak."

"We need hard numbers," Dante said. "Or planning is pointless."

"I might be able to drum up thirty troops. Would that be enough?"

"If your reports on the Tauren are accurate. How soon can you have them ready?"

"This same afternoon. It will take time to cross the valley, though. We tore down the ropes to keep the Tauren from using the crossing against us."

Dante nodded. "Winden and I will deal with that. You bring your troops up to us as fast as you can. If you can spare any shells, I'm sure we could use them."

"What about me?" Blays said.

"I think it's time for you to deal with your fear of narrow ropes over high places."

Niles headed down the trail toward town. Dante, Blays, and Winden traipsed deeper into the mountains, crossing the bridge above the raging ocean on their way to the Broken Valley.

There, as promised, all the ropes had been torn down. But vines hung from the branches like leafy cloaks, trailing down the sides of the plateaus and mingling with the roots holding tight to the cliffs leading to the bottom.

Dante gazed down into the thicket crushing the passage between the plateaus. "Any idea where the ropes wound up?"

"Most were hauled away," Winden said. "Those that weren't? Tossed down there." She pointed to the right. Below, ropes and tackle tangled the brush.

"Want to be useful?" Dante said to Blays. "Go get those."

Blays eyed the ravine. "Know what, I don't think this is where my talents are best spent. I want Niles' job instead. I can walk down a hill and go yell at troops with the best of them."

Tree roots held fast to the sides of the rock. Blays worked his way down, aided in a handful of spots by harvested vines. He carried a machete with him.