Call the Rain (14 page)
Authors: Kristi Lea
Illista watched the scene unfolding with fascination. She could almost feel the fire burning between the two Xan Segra lovers.
“Enough,” interrupted Joral. “No one else is going to die because of me. Shikan, I release you from the betrothal. You are free to marry Rafil if that is your wish.”
A collective gasp went up from the crowd. Qitkan bowed again, nearly groveling. “Please be merciful to us. We of the Xan Segra can be useful to powerful ones such as yourselves.”
Joral made a noise of disgust and regarded the chief. “Peace, Chief. I don't need to marry your daughter to be your ally. The news of King Zabewa worries me. Chieftess Vituri knows him as a heartless mercenary. Illista has told me that he has invaded her homeland forcing her into hiding. Mulavi's own words and actions in poisoning the Xan Segra water and attempting to incite war between us show that he is not to be trusted. We need to stand together as one Segra people.”
Illista's heart swelled at Joral's speech. She took a deep breath. After so long speaking as a Waki, she did not trust her own voice. But these people who sheltered her needed to hear what she had to say. Joral needed to hear it. “The rains that feed the Xan Segra lands also run to the Ken Segra's. I think that Mulavi had done some magic to hold the rain back. Last night I broke some sort of…barrier that was keeping the rain away. I called it back. There will be enough water.”
Qitkan stared, mouth agog. “You...called it?”
Illista felt her cheeks flush a deep red as every eye in the tent stared at her. “The rains…the water…they speak to me. This is my family’s magic that Zabewa tried to steal. This is why I have been hiding. I am sorry that I ever brought his attention toward you, that he would steal from you to find me.”
Qitkan shook his head. “No, little one. Don’t blame yourself for the evil deeds of another. It was Zabewa and his henchman Mulavi who stole the rains from us. You have brought them back. You could have escaped and left us to our misery, but you didn’t. You stayed and risked your own life to restore what Zabewa stole. We are in your debt.”
The room erupted in a chorus of murmurs. Joral turned to her, his eyes liquid pools of blue brimming with emotions she could not untangle.
Heads nodded and Qitkan bowed even lower.
“What happens to Mulavi?” asked one of the Xan Segra warriors once the commotion quieted.
Chieftess stepped forward. “As the Ken Segra were the ones to capture him and reveal his plots against us, we would like the honor of his punishment.”
“What sort of death do you call for, Vituri?” asked Qitkan.
She smiled a broad, almost feral smile. The smile of a wolf mother who has caught the hyena among her cubs and is poised above his throat. “Mulavi does not die by Segra hands. We have friends among the Waki miners to the East. The Waki are especially well suited to the dark, smoky work deep within the tunnels far from the sunlight, but they also require the assistance of taller folk. I think they will find Mulavi and his men to be acceptable. You may think that our serving folk are peace-loving. But they are, I assure you, quite capable of handling the mercenaries.”
Qitkan clapped his hands and three Waki filed quietly into the tent carrying cups of grol. One stopped in front of Illista, standing half a head shorter and nearly twice as broad. “Nunzi.”
The woman glanced up and the back at her feet.
“Thank you for helping me and my sister.”
Nunzi's head bobbed up and down.
Illista clasped the woman’s hands within her own.
“Please look at me. I am the same Illista I have always been.”
Nunzi raised her head slowly. Illista smiled at her broad, familiar face. The woman's face had the almost-smiling, nearly expressionless look that all the Waki had, but her eyes spoke of her uncertainty and intelligence.
“You do not need to hide your eyes from me, ever. I hope that we can continue to be friends.”
Nunzi's glance flicked behind Illista to where the Chieftess stood and then back to Illista. “Of course, child.” she whispered.
Illista grabbed the woman by the shoulders and drew her into a fierce hug, spilling grol down the front of them both. She ignored the heavy silence around them as the Segra watched the strange display of affection between the changeling and the servant.
Nunzi pulled back, and Illista gently took the cup from her hands. Then, with a whisper to the joyfully singing beverage, the spilled drink withdrew from the fabric of their clothing, gathering into drops that flowed upwards and back into the cup.
“I should have assigned you to the laundry instead of the cooking tent.” Nunzi said, her voice ringing out across the quiet room.
Illista laughed and dropped a kiss on her forehead.
***
Joral watched the beauty by his side as they were served a feast worthy of a king. She thanked each Waki servant, many of them by name. He found himself doing the same.
He didn't miss how her gaze flicked to his cup each time it was refilled or to the platters of food as they were brought in. “Does the food taste different now?” he couldn't help but ask.
She smiled. “It is not the taste. It is the sound. Every dish, every ingredient has its own voice.”
He eyed his grol cup askance. “How can you eat something that is talking?”
Illista laughed, the sound bubbly and more relaxed than he had ever heard from her. “I don't know. But it doesn't feel wrong. The voice isn't like the cry of an animal. It is more like a scent or a color.”
They stepped outside the tent after the long meal into the starry dark of night. He felt peaceful, almost. He thought they had an understanding with the Xan Segra now. He hoped the two tribes would agree to work together in the future. He turned to Illista.
“You are not bound to stay with us, you know. I will escort you to the edge of the Segra territories. All the way to the ocean if you want.”
She shook her head. “Are you so quick to be rid of me?”
Joral quashed the sadness that threatened to well inside of him at the thought of her gone. He had just begun to know her and yet he felt he had known her forever. “If I were being selfish, I would forbid you to leave.”
She was quiet for a moment. “The sea does not call to me like the rains here do. If I may, I would like to stay with the Segra.”
Joral took Illista's hand and pulled her around to face him. “You don't have to serve anyone, not the Segra, not me. I want you to stay, not for the rains or for the tribe. For me. I have never felt so complete as when I am with you.”
The shadows of the night seemed to deepen as he looked into her eyes.
And then she smiled a smile like a rainbow after the storm. She launched herself into him, flinging her arms around his neck. He caught her and pulled her close and kissed her. He drank of her kiss like the sweetest water from the sacred pond.
When he pulled back for breath he felt the dampness of a light drizzle falling all around them, soaking into his hair and trickling down his back. Rain had never felt so welcome.
“I love you Illista.”
“I love you, Joral.” She reached forward to plant another sweet kiss on his lips. “Tomorrow I will teach you to swim.”
The End
A voracious reader since before she can remember, Kristi has always been drawn to romance, science fiction, and fantasy (preferably all three). Now, when she isn’t reading her favorite books to herself or to her kids, she is writing her own stories. Kristi, her husband, and their two children live with a pair of cats rescued from life on the streets of suburban St. Louis.
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