The Scourge (24 page)

I set down the book about modern silver, whatever that is, and trail my hand along the piles. The dust makes them feel like they're coated in flour.

“Come over here, there’s something else I want to show you,” Kadee says. I make my way, cautiously this time, around the stacks to where she stands. She hands me an open book. “Feel this one.”

I run my fingertips across the surface of the page. “It’s bumpy.”

“I found it a while ago, and remembered it when I met you. It’s a book for the Sightless. You read it by feeling the raised dots. There are others like it.”

I can almost feel a pattern to the raised portions of the page. Recurring patterns, although I have no idea what they might mean. A meaning just beyond my touch that unlocks a world of stories. “I want to learn,” I whisper.

“Maybe you can.”

“How?”

“You create your destiny, remember?”

I think about everything that’s happened since I became the Water Bearer.
Not so far, I don’t.

We wander through the piles a few minutes more, as Kadee tells me about books she’s read and others she wants to. I like this peaceful, disorderly place with its musty smell. I’ll miss it when I leave, like so many other things about Koolkuna.

Peree tells me they still need more meat for the feast. He’s going out with a few of the hunters. And Kai’s going with them.

“What about your leg?” I ask, keeping my voice low. I don’t want to embarrass him in front of his new friend.

He picks a bit of dried dough out of my hair. “My warden okayed it. Anyway I’ve got to start testing it sometime, and we won’t go far. We’ll camp tonight, and hunt at first light.”

Although I’m not thrilled to hear that Kai’s part of the hunt, I’m relieved Peree’s going. I don’t think I can survive another night as tense as a bowstring, pretending to sleep.

I’ve never slept alone. I don’t relish the silence of Peree’s empty shelter, so I spend the night at Kadee’s. She lights a cheery fire, and reads to Kora and me from
Animal Fables and Legends.
I dream of chimerical talking animals.

The people tell stories from past feasts—like how one man drank so much plum wine he passed out stuck in the mud around the water hole and had to be pulled out the next morning. Or the time some of the children accidentally set fire to the feast table and charred a week’s worth of food. Their laughter is infectious. I’m as excited as anyone in Koolkuna by the time I bathe and change into one of Kadee’s freshly laundered dresses.

Peree returned in early afternoon. As I passed through the clearing on an errand for Arika, I found him giving Kai an archery lesson. They were teasing each other and laughing, like before. Having fun. Kai slipped away again, barely taking the time to greet me.
I really don’t think I like that girl,
I thought to myself. Peree and I talked briefly, then he left to help Konol prepare the clutch of rabbits and several possums they shot. He sounded tired but content, more like himself.

I feel more like myself, too, as Kadee and I follow the path to the water hole, carrying baskets stuffed with fresh bread and newly harvested vegetables from the garden. Kora skips beside me, and before I know it, I’m skipping, too.

“Finally!” she crows. We skip madly, until we collapse in a giggling pile of arms, legs, and stray lettuce leaves.

We arrive at the water hole, and I help Arika prepare food for the sick ones. Feeding the Scourge is still such a bizarre idea, not to mention that in Koolkuna they make them
part
of the celebration. Nerang finds me as I work, and asks if I’d like to have a chat. We stroll along the edge of the water, toward the waterfall, and sit on a downed tree trunk.

He sighs. “Ah, it’s good for an old man to rest after being on his feet all day.”

I shake my head and smile. “You make it sound like you have one foot in the grave, but you never even seem to sleep. How old are you, anyway?”

“To tell you the truth, I’m not sure. But complaining about my infirmity prompts regular dinner invitations from the widows.”

“Nerang! You’re terrible!”

He’s unapologetic. “I never learned to cook. I have to beg for my meals.”

“I doubt Konol lets you go hungry.”

“He is a good son, if a bit reckless at times. He and Myall appear to have much in common.”

Wild boy. I snort. “Peree seemed happier today after hunting with Konol.”
And Kai
.

“He is improving quickly, but he’s too thin and easily winded. He tries to hide it, but I think his wound continues to cause him pain. Still, I doubt I’ll be able to keep him here for long once you leave.” He mutters about pigheadedness. “It will be quieter, when you go. Your presence in the village caused quite a stir.”

“I appreciate all that the
anuna
—and especially you—have done for us. I’m sorry if we created any problems by being here.”

He pats my arm. “Causing a stir doesn’t necessarily equate to a problem. The presence of
lorinyas
over the years has not always been easy, but we learn from the experience. We learn more about the world beyond Koolkuna, and about ourselves, reflected in the gaze of an outsider. Tell me, what do you think of us?”

I think for a moment, then answer honestly. “I think you’re people who live peacefully with each other, who welcome strangers, who care for the creatures that could be their worst enemies. You embrace kindness and cooperation. Koolkuna is what I’d like my community to become.”

Nerang chuckles. “We hide our blemishes well, then. It’s not always as idyllic as you give us credit for, but we do strive for peace and kindness.”

“Have you had any brilliant ideas about how to convince my people the water is poisoned?” I ask hopefully.

“Without the Myuna to clear their minds, it will be difficult. Even if they trust you, their fear of the
runa
will be strong. You can’t bring the Myuna to them, so perhaps the only solution is to bring them to the Myuna.”

“What do you mean?”

“I spoke to the
anuna
. You may bring your people here to take the waters. Those who wish to may stay. The same offer will be extended to Kadee and Myall’s people.”

“But there are so many of us. And I know you’re worried about a drought.”

“We’ve always been provided for,” Nerang says. “There’s no reason to think we won’t be now.”

“It’s too much to ask. You can’t–”

He quiets me. “We’ve enjoyed good fortune. We would like to share it with others.”

I’m humbled by the generosity of the offer. It’s everything I’d been hoping for, but didn’t dare admit. To know my family and people are safe, and not under the influence of the poison, to not have to hide in the caves, to choose to live on the ground or in the trees—it’s a stunning vision.

Would the Three even consider it? I think about it. They would have to be persuaded to allow me to lead everyone through days in the dark caves, culminating with a suicidal swim. All to convince them that the reality they’ve always known
isn’t
real. It’s ludicrous.

I shake my head. “They’ll never do it.”

Nerang is quiet for a moment. “Did you not walk among the creatures, trusting the assurances of your people that you would be safe?”

“That was different.”

“Why? Don’t discount your authority so easily, young one.”

I fling out my hands. “Young one! That’s my point! I’m not one of the Three, or one of the elders. I’m not even an adult yet. No one will listen to me.”

“They trusted you to collect their water, and to search for the Myuna.”

They didn’t have a choice.
“Thank you, Nerang, truly. I’ll present your offer to my people. But I don’t even know how I’m going to get home yet.” I gesture to the plummeting waterfall. “Is there another way into the Dark Place? I don’t think I can get in the way I got out.”

“Kadee knows the way through the forest. She agreed to guide you.”

“Really? She’s willing to go back?” I ask.

“It surprised me as well.”

While we talked, the last of the light faded from the sky, and was replaced only by the brighter, more focused glow of the bonfire. A babble of voices was audible over the waterfall before, but now I only hear two.

“Well,” Nerang says, standing, “we’ve successfully avoided the last of the preparations for the Feast. Shall we return and enjoy the fruits of their labor?”

“You really are terrible, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m hungry.” He takes my arm, and his voice is abruptly serious again. “Be cautious when you return home, young one. Change can be frightening, and fear makes people dangerous.”

We walk back along the edge of the water hole, and the two voices grow clearer. Wirrim and Kadee are telling a longer, more detailed version of the story of Koolkuna that I heard when I arrived. We stand at the perimeter of the circle of light and listen.

“Where were you?” Peree whispers in my ear, startling me.

“Talking with Nerang,” I whisper back. “Did I miss the offering?”

“Yeah. Lucky you.” He pauses. “I don’t know, feeding the Scourge. It’s disturbing.”

“I know.”

“You missed the blessing of the children, too,” he says. “They call them
gurus
, or something. It was strange, sort of the opposite of the Exchange.” One more difference between here and home.

I have renewed admiration for Wirrim and Kadee’s gifts as they tell the story of the early days of Koolkuna. I can feel the terror of the
anuna
as they escape the City and make the dangerous journey to their ancestral home, their fear slowly changing to relief as they realize what they’ve found in the Myuna: refuge, salvation, deliverance.

Peree slides his arm around my waist. Standing in the glow of the fire, with the soothing flow of the waterfall, surrounded by people who accept me despite my being a
lorinya,
and held by someone who cares for me, I feel secure. Not a common feeling for any Groundling. I want this for Calli, for Eland, for all my people.

Wirrim blesses the Feast, and a few moments later the music starts. The instruments and rhythms sound similar, but not quite the same as our own. All around us people begin to pair up.

Peree takes my hand. When he speaks, his voice is formal. “Fennel, would you like to dance?”

I smirk, and lower my voice, trying to imitate his melodic voice. “Groundlings and Lofties don’t dance together.”

“Why not?”

“Tradition, I guess.”

He pulls me close, his hands spread against my back, and he whispers in my ear. “To hell with tradition.”

Then he kisses me. A brief touch of his lips against mine, but enough to send lightning bolts streaking across my body. Before I can react, he spins me around and we’re off. I didn’t know the Lofties danced much, up in the tops of the greenhearts, but Peree clearly learned somewhere.

I can’t stop grinning. I finally got my dance.

“Take a walk with me?” he asks, when we reach the cooler air close to the water. I don’t care where we go, as long as it’s not to sleep. I don’t want the night to end. He whistles to the music as we stroll through the trees that surround the water hole. After passing a few other couples seeking solitude in the darkness, we’re alone.

“Nerang’s quite the dancer,” Peree says. “He’s full of surprises, isn’t he?”

I laugh, thinking about how he gets his meals. “Yeah, he is.”

“So what did you two talk about for so long?”

I hesitate. I don't want to ruin the mood. “Tomorrow.”

“What’s the plan?” he asks casually.

I fill him in on my conversation with Nerang. His offer surprises Peree, too, but the news that Kadee will take me back doesn’t.

“I asked her to be your guide,” he says.

“You did?”

“What did you think, that I’d let you go by yourself? Wandering through the caves or the forest all alone, when she knows exactly how to get there? What kind of Keeper do you think I am?”

“A devious one.”

“Well, you’re still going to have a tough job once you get there. Koolkuna will be about as real to our people as camels and cassowaries. But Nerang’s offer is generous.”

We amble down the path to the village, our hands still linked.

“Dark out here,” Peree says. He pulls me to a stop. “Wait, I want to try something.”

“What?”

“I want to feel what it’s like to be Sightless.”

“Close your eyes and you pretty much have it,” I joke.

“No, really. I’m going to walk for a while without looking where I’m going.”

“But you can open your eyes any time. That makes it different.”

“I promise I won’t for at least thirty paces. Would that be more real?”

Nope
, I think. But I don’t say it out loud. I’m touched that he’s trying to empathize.

“Okay, here goes,” he says. I hear him limp away several paces, already veering off the path. “
Ugh
, reminds me of being in the caves.”