Sky City, Malel, Tokoban
165th day of the Great Star at morning
It was time. The peace-weaving would not yet have concluded – would barely be halfway through its course – but the councils had argued, bitterly and at length, and the members of the shamanic conclave, advisers to the council, had journeyed to the ancestors and to Malel herself for guidance. In the end, agreement was reached.
It wasn’t unanimous, but as the Wet strengthened, even Lilla couldn’t help but see that they needed to do something. The enemy were building another line of pyramids, this time in Yalotlan hill country far too close to Tokoban’s border to go unanswered, and there had been another desperate influx of Yaloh refugees to strain Tokob villages and cities. Yet they were not going to war, despite some of the more strident voices on the councils and among the Paws.
Instead, they would destroy the stockpiles of wood and stone and paint that would become pyramids. They would not take life unless they had no choice; they would not hunt down the builders and kill them, for they were likely to be slaves. They would simply … halt construction. Resistance without violence, as far as possible, to prevent the magic within the pyramids being brought to life and thus all the land through which it rang belonging to the Empire.
But before Malel would grant her blessing, she had a demand. And her first children had listened.
Tokob wore their finest tunics and salt-cotton, their best jewellery and paint. There were so many drums that the plaza shook with sound and Lilla could feel it through his chest. The ejab had space at the front of the crowd so that those whose hearing was stopped by the spirit-magic could still take part.
Two thousand warriors of the Yaloh and Tokob were grouped behind the ejab, and as many others as could fit into the biggest festival plaza crowded its edges, its streets, the roofs of the buildings lining it.
The bone flutes joined in, a jarring, skirling, skating sound as though the spirits themselves were flooding into the flesh world with bloody intent. And then the rattles, a low sliding counterpoint slithering between the drumbeats like the Snake-goddess who helped bring the world into being. Malel’s second creation, the wise and patient predator who gave strength and kinship to the ejab.
The heartbeat of Malel. The wails of the spirits. The hiss of the Snake. Lilla’s heart waited, sweat beginning to break out on his skin. And then it came, rushing out of the dawn from a hundred shamanic throats. The coughing roar of the Jaguar, brother to the Snake. The warriors’ god.
Lilla’s heart gave a great liquid thud and began pounding faster than the drums. Malel was listening and so were her daughter and son. Listening to the first children and their allies. They crouched close, their presence felt in wind and cool and pressure. The Jaguar called again; the Snake hissed; Malel’s heart beat. The people crammed into the plaza moved in time, swaying and stamping their feet as the music and the gods swept them up into one creature, a single form with thousands of eyes and mouths and hearts and hands.
At the top of the plaza, above the steps where the musicians knelt, on a platform open to sky and wind and rain and sun, the shamans roared and whirled in a complex dance around the prisoner. Lilla’s heart ached; Tayan should have been up there. The dance grew faster, the leaps of the shamans more exuberant, their roars now interspersed with wails and whoops and Lilla felt it, felt the gathering magic, felt the closeness and tension, a blanket of power sitting heavy across the Sky City.
And then, at some unseen, unknown signal, the shamans fell still and the music halted. Between one beat and the next, one breath and the next, silence.
‘Malel, mother, goddess of all the world, hear our prayer.’ Vaqix’s voice, normally so reedy, throbbed with power and control. He had stood immobile next to the kneeling prisoner throughout the commencement of the ritual, but now all of its magic was gathered in him.
‘Snake-sister, Jaguar-brother, hear us. Spirits of before, spirits of now, spirits yet to walk the world, hear us. Ancestors, hear us. We do not call to you all through some petty need; we call to you from danger and dire terror. We call to you, O Malel, O Snake and Jaguar, O spirits, O ancestors! We call to you for our very lives and our very way of life.
‘And so that you might hear, and so that you might listen, and so that you might intervene, we offer you a life. One life for thousands, O Malel, that you extend your protection over Tokob and Yaloh. That you purge the threat from our borders. That you grant us life in which to honour you, O Malel.’
Aez, the Axib Coyote of the Empire’s Melody, had been washed and dressed in a long, belted tunic, blackened with charcoal. His fine hair had been shaved at both sides and the remainder braided. Vaqix and the Yaloh high elder, Zasso, pulled him to his feet. He didn’t resist: to fight a sacred, ritual death would be to condemn his spirit to the Underworld.
The two shamans cut the seams beneath Aez’s arms and lifted the tunic from him. His face and body were covered with thick, alternating stripes of chalk and charcoal. Even from this distance, Lilla could see his chest heaving, though he worked hard to keep his expression neutral.
‘Thank you,’ Lilla whispered, as did thousands of others, a susurration of noise lifting from the plaza. ‘Thank you for the honour of your life.’
‘O Malel, O Snake, O Jaguar! O spirits and ancestors, hear our prayer! O world that was, and world that is, and world that will be, do not see your children cut from your skin. Do not see your children in bonds and degradation. Do not see your tribes broken and scattered to the winds. Accept this life and this blood; accept this courage and this strong-beating heart. Accept this man, as he accepts his time for rebirth is at hand. We call to you from despair, O Malel. Answer us!’
Vaqix turned to face Aez, who took one single step backwards and then halted. In the silence, Lilla heard a sound, small with distance, a cut-off plea. And then Aez flung his arms wide, baring his chest. To preserve the spirit, his body would die. The high shaman smiled behind the blue of his paint. ‘Fair and noble warrior, your death will carry our prayers to Malel. We honour you. We thank you. Go now in honour and in thanks. Go without pain. Go with peace.’
Vaqix struck, a single hard blow that entered just beneath the ribs and angled upwards, cleaving stomach and lung and then heart. The Axi shuddered once and opened his mouth, but the knife had stolen his breath and whatever sound he made this time didn’t carry to Lilla’s ears. His knees buckled and Zasso and Vaqix caught him. They lowered him gently, reverently, to the platform and he disappeared behind the ring of kneeling shamans.
Lilla’s breath whistled through a tight throat. ‘Thank you,’ he whispered again. Malel was close, her god-born were close, and spirits and ancestors gathered around them. Magic overlaid them. And then a single drum, a single beating heart, that stuttered and skipped, and finally stopped.
Lilla thought his own heart might do the same as the goddess filled him and filled them all. A flute screamed, so unexpected that he jumped, and then the drum started up again, a wild celebration, a rattle bursting through. Next, a cacophony of instruments. On the platform the shamans spun out of their positions and began again to dance, screeching and roaring, flinging themselves into the sky in twisting leaps, clawing fingers reaching for the magic, the spirits, Malel herself.
In glimpses between their whirling bodies, Lilla saw Vaqix and Zasso making the final prayers over Aez’s body, cradling his head and his hands. There were tears on Lilla’s face, tears of joy and thanks. Aez had begun as an enemy; he had died carrying all their hopes and dreams. Had died an ally; a friend. His name would be remembered among Tokob and Yaloh alike.
The shamans split and leapt down the steps over the heads of the kneeling musicians and whirled into the ejab and then the warriors grouped ready to march. They carried bowls of animal blood and whisks of feathers, and as they spun they flicked it high into the air to rain down in blessing.
Lilla turned to Lutek and Tiamoko and swept them up in his arms in turn, planting kisses on their cheeks and smearing the fine sprinkles of blood that peppered their skin. ‘Malel will listen,’ he said. And it wasn’t just as Fang reassuring the warriors of his Paw that he spoke. He knew it. ‘Malel will send us her aid. The Pechaqueh will be stopped. But more than that, the magic will reach Tayan and Betsu, too, even so far from our soil as they are. It will lend its strength to their weaving and they will return home with word of peace. And we will escort the Melody from Yalotlan and then lay down our weapons. Malel will listen,’ he repeated, but softer now as they hugged again and he was jostled by spinning shamans and dancing warriors.
The gods had listened. And they would act.
The shamans had taken Aez’s body up to the womb to hasten his spirit’s passage to Malel, and to honour the life he had given in service of theirs. The long snaking procession was gone, the musicians were gone, much of the crowd was gone.
The plaza was quieter now, subdued, and the goddess’s presence had faded from Lilla’s body, replaced with a cold rain that washed the blood and paint from his skin in long smears that stained his armour and kilt. It seemed fitting, somehow. The magic would linger in them, waiting until it was needed.
His Paw would be one of the first to leave, marching with five others to meet up with those already in Yaloh territory.
They would creep like the snake and the jaguar through the hills and jungle of Yalotlan and destroy every pyramid that reared above the green and living canopy. They would smash the supplies and free the slaves and only kill where there was no other choice. Those were the tasks for which Aez had died and for which they had begged Malel’s aid.
Ossa pranced towards him, his tail wagging furiously, and Lilla bent to scratch his ears, a smile curving his lips as the dog whined and wriggled with pleasure, collapsing onto his side to have his belly rubbed. ‘Wanton,’ Lilla murmured, but he obliged nonetheless.
Xessa hugged Lutek and Tiamoko for long seconds, kissing them both, before she clicked her fingers and Ossa sat up, alert. She pulled Lilla to his feet and then wrapped her arms around him too, standing on tiptoe to reach around his neck. He hugged her hard, a flower of anxiety blooming in his chest. If they go after the Drowned with both Tayan and me gone …
He pushed it away. Tika was leading the planning and practice; she would ensure they were ready before any attempt was made. He lifted Xessa off her feet and squeezed, then put her down and planted a kiss on her head. She was smiling when she looked up at him, but her eyes were shadowed with worry.
‘Be safe,’ she signed simply. Lilla nodded. She hesitated, then she licked her thumb and pressed it to his temple and he stilled, shocked, before a rush of affection and gratitude surged through him. She had gifted him a piece of her courage, her spirit, to aid him in the war. She had named him family.
He pulled her into another embrace, almost overwhelmed. Over her shoulder, he saw Toxte, Ilandeh, and Dakto approaching. Lilla let her go. ‘Look after this one for me when I’ve gone,’ he signed to Toxte.
Xessa’s eyes narrowed and her hands began to move, but Toxte interrupted, cocking an incredulous eyebrow. ‘She’s the one who looks after me and you know it,’ he replied. Xessa’s irritation turned to a blush of delight and Lilla hoped they would hurry up and become lovers before he got back. So much blood in their faces when it should be much further below. He grinned, but didn’t say it.
‘What’s wrong with those two?’ he signed instead, pointing at the Xentib who were arguing in low, intense voices.
Toxte shrugged. ‘They’ve been like it all morning, far as I can tell.’
‘Dakto,’ Lilla called, suddenly wanting to part with everyone on good terms and make sure Ilandeh did nothing to antagonise Xessa again while he was gone. ‘Everything all right?’
Dakto hurried over, Ilandeh trailing behind looking furious and bewildered and a little bit scared. His stomach turned over.
‘Fang Lilla,’ the Xenti said, ‘do you have room for one more in your Paw?’
Something that sounded suspiciously like a sob broke from Ilandeh’s mouth and she half turned away. Xessa, unsure what was happening, nevertheless went to her and put an arm around her shoulders.
‘You have been ordered to fight?’ Lilla asked, surprised.
Dakto shook his head. ‘No, but I want to. I’ve been out with you before. I’d like to fight at your side. With what’s coming – what you’re trying to achieve – I thought, well, I want to help.’
Lilla looked from Dakto to Ilandeh, staring at them from the protective circle of Xessa’s arms. Her expression was mingled betrayal and fury. He could see Ilandeh’s thoughts as clearly as if she signed them: Don’t say yes. Please don’t say yes. He stared around the plaza at the warriors scattered across its immensity with their families. The rain was steady and cold and they were all soaked, but few made their way to shelter. Time was slipping on, and at highsun they would form into their Paws and filter down through the city and out, down into the treeline, the jungle, gone.
Lilla still had to say goodbye to his mother and sisters, and yet here he was, dealing with the Xentib again. He swallowed his sigh. A flight of green and red parrots caught his eye, heading from someone’s allotment in the city down to the orchard. He watched them go, breathing in rain and stone and home. Ilandeh’s eyes were like coals on his skin.
‘It is dangerous, Dakto,’ he said eventually. ‘We risk much. We risk everything. Especially with the prohibition against fighting unless there’s no other choice.’
Toxte signed his response for Xessa and she tightened her arms on Ilandeh as the woman sagged. She was too shocked to cry.
‘I understand, Fang. This is … this has begun to feel like home, and we haven’t had that in a very long time.’ Dakto’s voice was low, but Ilandeh heard him anyway.
‘Then stay,’ she begged, on her knees in the rain now. Ossa licked her neck; she shoved him away. ‘Stay, Dakto. Please. I have no one else.’
‘You have Xessa and me,’ Toxte said immediately, signing the words. Xessa nodded.
Dakto crossed back to her and pulled her to her feet. ‘This is home,’ he repeated. ‘And I have the skills to defend it. I have to do that. Let me do that. Let me fight in Yalotlan, for our gods. Our future.’
‘We need all the help we can get, Ilandeh,’ Lilla said softly.
Ilandeh’s face crumpled. Dakto wouldn’t stay for her; he’d made that clear. Maybe if a Toko made the decision for them, it would be easier to live with.
‘Take him and go, and Malel watch over you both,’ Xessa signed, maybe coming to the same conclusion. ‘I love you.’
‘I love you too, crazy eja,’ Lilla signed. He wanted to tell her that Tayan would be back soon with news of the peace-weaving, but he feared the words might conjure his husband’s ghost. That perhaps a ghost was all that was left to them. ‘Come on then, Dakto,’ he said and Ilandeh finally began to cry.
Lilla looked to Toxte. ‘Look after her,’ he signed again and this time Xessa had to press her lips hard together against the storm of emotion.
‘I will,’ Toxte said aloud. ‘I swear. You just come back, Fang Lilla. We need you. Xessa needs you and him both.’
Lilla flinched that Toxte had conjured Tayan after all. Please, Malel, watch over my husband. Send him back to me alive. That’s all I ask.
Dakto extricated himself from Ilandeh’s grip and returned to Lilla’s side. ‘She may never forgive me for this, but I feel it, in here.’ He rubbed his chest. ‘This is the trail I’m supposed to walk. This is right.’
‘I make no promises to you, nor have I made any to the rest of my Paw – I cannot promise you will come back alive. I can promise I won’t risk you unnecessarily.’
Dakto looked at him; they were of a height, and the Xentib face was calm and clear. ‘That’s enough.’
The city was behind them. The best part of the day was behind them and they were deep in cultivated jungle, the trail just wide enough to walk two abreast as the cloud and the trees combined to steal the light. They’d have to rest soon.
‘Do you know any of our touch-sign?’ Lilla asked quietly, breaking the comfortable silence between him and Dakto.
The Xentib warrior skipped over a tangle of vine that crept across the trail, brow furrowed. ‘Touch-sign? What’s that?’
‘We’ve taught most of the Yaloh warriors; you should know too. It’s sign language for the dark.’
Dakto scowled, slowing. ‘But if it’s dark …’ he began. ‘Do you take me for a fool?’
‘Well, you did volunteer to destroy pyramids when you could have stayed at home.’ Lilla laughed as the man’s scowl deepened. ‘No, look, let me show you.’ He squinted down the trail. ‘Looks like we’re making camp anyway – there’s a clearing up ahead that should squeeze us all in. Come on.’
They pressed forward until the trail lightened and they could see the sky again, filtering out into a clearing and finding a rotting tree to use as a lumpy seat. ‘Give me your arm. All right, touch-sign can never be as eloquent as full sign, but it’s still really useful. Here.’ He held Dakto’s forearm in his left hand and with his right drew a long straight line and then a triangle at the end – a basic arrow – with his fingernail. ‘Direction.’ Next, he drew a big cross. ‘Negative. So the arrow and the cross mean don’t go that way.’
Lilla drew a large loop from inner wrist, up the forearm and down to outer wrist. ‘What do you think that one is?’
Dakto looked up, biting his lip. ‘Apart from ticklish?’
‘Apart from ticklish,’ Lilla confirmed with a grin.
‘Well, supposing we are at the start point, it might be … go in a circle? Circle around?’
‘Retreat. See? You’ve gone back to the start. Circle is just that, a circle,’ and he drew on Dakto’s inner arm. He showed him a few more, making the Xenti close his eyes to really understand the feel of the instructions.
‘Good,’ he said a few minutes later. ‘Of course, we’ll have to practise, but—’
‘Let me try,’ Dakto interrupted and Lilla obediently extended his arm and closed his eyes. Dakto’s fingers were gentle on his arm and then his fingernail scratched a crossed arrow.
‘Don’t go that way,’ Lilla said, pointing and grinning. Dakto let out an annoyed huff and drew another sign. Lilla frowned. ‘Again.’ The sign again, lighter this time, even harder to read. He started to open his eyes when Dakto’s lips touched his, soft and hot and faintly salty. He sucked in a surprised breath and jerked away, his eyes flying open. ‘Dakto,’ he breathed.
Confusion flitted across his features. ‘But I thought …’
Lilla pulled his arm out of the man’s grip, embarrassment flaring hot. Had he missed the signs? Had there even been any signs? He didn’t think so. ‘No. I’m sorry if I led you to believe … but no. You know I’m married.’ He stood up, wiping flakes of bark from the seat of his kilt, flustered.
Dakto scrambled to his feet, too. ‘We’re going to war,’ he said in a low voice, his hand on Lilla’s arm to stay him. ‘We could die. Tayan might never come back from the Singing City.’
Lilla managed a small, pained smile. ‘I know.’ Dakto leant forward again, but Lilla put his hand on his chest, firm. ‘I know all that. And yet I am married. I’m sorry, my friend, but that’s all we can be. There are enough warriors around you who are free, though. Both Lutek and Tiamoko, for two. I could—’
‘I don’t want Lutek or Tiamoko,’ Dakto said and there was such despondency in his tone that Lilla almost felt guilty. ‘Forgive me, Fang, I have misread … everything. It won’t happen again.’ He moved to the other side of the clearing and stood there with his head bowed, ignoring the quiet industry as the camp was prepared.
For an instant, Lilla was tempted to call Dakto back and apologise again, but didn’t. Doing so would only give the man fresh hope and there was none to be had.
Tayan’s quick mouth and lively eyes flashed across Lilla’s mind, and his absence was suddenly sharper than obsidian. The words Lilla had spoken at their parting came back to him: ‘You’re taking my heart with you. Make sure you bring it back.’ And Tayan’s reply, whispered against his mouth as he stretched up for a final kiss: ‘I leave mine here, my love. Look after it.’
‘I will,’ he promised quietly. ‘Always.’