24: CONVERSATIONS IN WICKER
(Kihrin’s story)
We left that evening.
I had expected to wait until morning, but the thriss insisted. The transportation the thriss had provided traveled just as well in the dark as during the day.
I’d also assumed we’d journey by boat. The thriss had a different plan. As the sun set to the east, the thriss presented us with our rides: lizards.
They were not normal lizards. They reminded me of anteaters, with long pointed noses and black button eyes, but dragon-like scales covered their bodies. They walked on their hind legs. Their front legs ended in long, sharp claws. And each lizard stood roughly as tall as an elephant.
They moved faster than they looked, could run for hours, and climbed trees with spectacular agility assuming the tree proved large enough to support them. I’d have assumed no such trees existed, except the Manol Jungle paid no attention to my assumptions. The trees in the Manol were big.
Really big.
However, one didn’t “ride” the lizards. Well, the driver did, hanging on or sitting on the moolthras (as the thriss called them) as appropriate. The passengers rode in a large basket on the lizard’s back, making the creature look like it wore an adorable backpack. Passengers spent the trip strapped into the baskets and lying down, except when climbing left them effectively standing.
I let out a long, nervous breath when I saw those baskets. They didn’t look that large. I noticed another problem, but I didn’t say anything. Teraeth saw the problem too.
He just didn’t see the trap.
“I’ll ride with Janel,” Teraeth said.
I shook my head. “Not how I would have played that one.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Teraeth asked.
Janel raised an eyebrow. “Oh? You’ll ride with me, will you? Just like that.”
Teraeth paused. “I mean … if it’s all right with you?”
“In fact, it’s not,” Janel said. “And I must say I’ve grown tired of the back-and-forth.”
“Janel, if I’ve been out of line, I apologize.” Teraeth looked panicked.
“I mean the back-and-forth between you two.” Janel pointed to Teraeth and me. “I won’t be your scorecard so you can figure out who wins. Thurvishar, would you mind if I rode with you?”
“It would be my honor.” Thurvishar bowed.
“Thank you.” She gathered her pack and walked over to the thriss waiting to help her into a basket.
I turned to Teraeth. “Wow. You’re supposed to be good with women?”
Teraeth growled as he grabbed at his own pack. “Shut up.”
When the thriss helped me shimmy into our basket, I immediately regretted it. Logically, I knew I had enough room to move around. The belts were for my comfort, not my restraint. I wasn’t trapped.
I dearly, desperately, and completely hated it.
I closed my eyes and told myself I was someplace with wide skies and freedom and plenty of space. Not bound by anything. Free.
I didn’t realize I’d been making noises until the lizard started moving. Teraeth, sounding much less angry, asked, “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” I said through clenched teeth.
“Sure. You sound fine.”
I didn’t answer. Neither of us spoke for some time after that.
“I don’t like small spaces,” I said.
“What?”
“I don’t like small spaces,” I repeated. “I think—I just—when my soul was trapped inside Vol Karoth, I couldn’t move or speak. I had no power, no choice. I couldn’t control my body, because it’s his body now. Which is funny, because I used to like being tied up—okay, you didn’t need that much information.”
“Oh no. Please tell me more about your kinks. I’m interested.”
I half laughed and let another stretch of eternity march by.
“I haven’t forgiven you for lying to me,” I said later.
“Lying to you?” Teraeth sounded outraged. “I’ve never lied—”
“When you first told me how you knew about Janel. You lied.”
Teraeth snorted. “Oh gods, I just knew you’d bring that up. Technically, I did not—”
“Shut up with that ‘technically’ bullshit. You purposefully led me to a wrong conclusion, and when I did, you made no effort to correct me. You deceived me. You didn’t know about Janel because I talked in my sleep; you’d already met her in the Afterlife. Hell, you’d already kissed her—”
“How do you know that?” He sounded appalled.
“She told me! I even remember when it happened. That first day on Ynisthana when I saw you perform a Maevanos. You danced on that altar, practically naked, before you plunged a dagger into your own heart. When you Returned from being dead, you had a huge smile on your face. I asked you why, and you said you’d just been reunited with your wife.”
“What was I supposed to say?” Teraeth replied. “Hey, you know that girl? The one you’ve never met but you’re completely obsessed with because a demon fucked with your mind? I’ve been dating her in the Afterlife. She’s the reincarnation of my past life’s wife, and I’m still smitten. She has no idea who you are, though, so I’m not going to introduce you.”
“Asshole.”
“Still guilty. And by the way, it was both. You also talk in your sleep. Kalindra told me. That’s how I knew Janel was important to you.”
“Go to hell.”
“I’m quite certain I’m already here.”
At some point, the lizards began climbing, leaving us standing. It helped. I felt like I had some control when I had gravity under my feet and not my back.
“What are we going to do about Janel?” Teraeth asked.
I laughed—not a nice laugh, if I’m being honest.
“I’m serious.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think that’s up to us. She’s going to have her own opinion.” I looked over toward him; even I couldn’t see Teraeth clearly in the dark. “You know what I don’t get? How someone who goes wild for independent, self-assured women—Kalindra, Tyentso—keeps treating this one like she’s a fragile doll. You heard she killed a dragon, right? Two dragons? Have you slain a dragon?”
Teraeth sighed. “My memories of her are screwing me up.”
“Elana Kandor marched into the Korthaen Blight—while pregnant with your child—and demanded the morgage stop attacking Khorvesh. And the morgage agreed. How meek could she have been?”
“I guess I didn’t know her.”
“Yet you married her. Was it an arranged marriage or something?”
“Marriages were … different back then. I married her because she was pretty and I liked her singing and she had good, strong childbearing hips. We didn’t talk.”
“Wow. Really? So you would just come home from your latest conquest, rape your pretty wife with the nice, wide hips, and leave again?”
“It wasn’t rape!” Teraeth protested.
“I wasn’t there, so how would I know? But I’m pretty sure the only difference between being a wife and being a slave in Quur is who gets the money from the sale.1 And if she didn’t have any choice in the matter, how exactly is that not rape again? Oh, right, it was legal. Technically.”
Teraeth let out a long, shuddering breath. “I’m screwing up.”
“Well, far be it from me to tell you what you’re doing wrong,” I said spitefully.
“Oh, fuck you.”
“You wish,” I snapped.
I had a half second to recognize the sound of a belt being unbuckled before Teraeth shifted over and pressed me back against the lizard saddle with his hand at my throat. “You son of a bitch,” Teraeth hissed. “You know what the worst thing is? Worse than failure, worse than that moment when you realize you’ve screwed up irrecoverably, the arrows are falling, and you’ll never be able to make this right? Watching the two people you love fall in love with each other. Don’t you think it fucking kills me every time I see you hold her hand, every time she cries in your arms, the way you laugh and smile at each other? And who am I supposed to be jealous of? I’ve spent four years trying to win either one of you over, and it took you both one day—one whole day—to forget I existed.”
An impossibly heavy weight settled on my chest. My throat closed up. The two people you love echoed through my head as the refrain to a song I couldn’t stop replaying.
“Teraeth—”
“Fuck you. I don’t want to talk about it.” Teraeth’s voice hitched, someone trying as hard as they could to hold back tears. Teraeth pulled away, moved back over to his side of the basket, and buckled himself back in.
“Teraeth—” I didn’t know what to say. I resorted, desperately, to quoting Teraeth’s own words. “You had to know you were never going to own her.”
Teraeth laughed, the sound blending with the choking sob that followed. “That’s a goodly part of her charm,” he whispered, which had been my response four years before. Then he added, in a voice so soft I barely heard it, “Yours too.”
I didn’t know what to do. I felt gutted. Everything ached, a swirling vortex. I leaned back and exhaled slowly. Everything seemed broken and ugly. All I wanted—desperately wanted—was to fix this. To somehow make it right. Except I didn’t know how. I wasn’t even sure what “fixed” looked like. What did I want?
Teraeth had never made a secret of the fact he wanted to coax me into bed with him, but Teraeth welcomed anyone into his bed, at any time, for any reason. We were still friends, but Teraeth saw no problem with sleeping with his friends too. I did. That was that. I’d shoved our relationship into a corner I never had to examine.
Teraeth’s confession … gods, was he really saying what I thought he was?
“I wouldn’t assume she’s falling in love with me,” I finally said. “She’s … she’s Joratese. They like physical affection. It doesn’t mean anything romantic. But she’s a stallion—every time you try to protect her, what you’re saying is she belongs under your idorrá, your authority. That she needs your protection. That’s not the way they do things where she’s from. She’s going to fight you. She can’t stop herself. She has to put you in your place.”2
“Idorrá?” Teraeth’s voice was faint. “I conquered Jorat. You’d think I’d be more familiar with their culture.”
“It’s been five hundred years. Whatever culture existed when you stopped by has changed. You should ask Janel to explain it to you. She’ll do a better job than I would. I barely understand it myself. Mind you, I don’t think the way they do things is a healthy basis for a relationship. That whole idorrá/thudajé business. It’s all superiors and subordinates. If one person’s dominant, the other person has to be submissive. I don’t know. I guess I’m just enough of a romantic to think that’s great for bondage play and terrible for love.”
Teraeth actually laughed. Just a tiny bit of the ache in my chest eased. “You know, sometimes I forget you grew up in a brothel. I keep thinking you’re inexperienced because you’re such a prude.”
I choked out a laugh. “Prude? I’m not a prude.”
“Oh, you’re a prude,” Teraeth said. “Apparently, you’re just not naïve.”
“Not about the act itself. Love? Sure. I’ve no clue what I’m doing when it comes to love.”
“None of us do,” Teraeth said. “Obviously.”
“Look, I realize we have a lot to discuss—” I paused. “I need time.”
“At least you’re still talking to me. That’s a start.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I suppose it is.”
We didn’t travel nonstop. The lizards halted every few hours at regular rest stops along the tree line, seemingly designed for all functions one might require except food—which we’d brought with us. We stretched our legs, took care of necessities, ate, and drank.
I couldn’t tell when day broke, because even outside the baskets, we’d moved under such a dense canopy, no light made its way to the jungle floor. That floor turned glassy smooth as we entered a flooded area, the real ground somewhere under thirty feet of water. The temperature dropped from lethal hot to humid and warm.
I made a special effort to include Teraeth when we stopped for breaks. Not to ignore him, not to snap at him, not to fight with him. While I wrestled with my emotions, I knew one thing: I wouldn’t help the situation by showing Teraeth his heated confession had been a mistake. I wanted Teraeth to be honest with me.
Even if it complicated my life a hell of a lot.
Still, I would have been lying if I didn’t think our relationship had turned uncomfortable. I couldn’t ignore the situation, but I also didn’t want to confront it. Thurvishar threw us the occasional worried look, but otherwise said nothing. Janel acted like everything was fine.
She was either oblivious to the subtext or didn’t think her opinion would help.
We napped while traveling, sleeping fitfully. The moolthras moved with a surprisingly smooth gait, but it still jarred me awake more than once.
One of those times I noticed Teraeth had been watching me sleep.
“Okay, that’s not creepy,” I murmured.
“Sorry,” Teraeth said.
He didn’t sound even slightly sorry.
“Answer a question for me.” I yawned, turning over on my side while I readjusted my belts.
“Yes?”
“What are you going to do after you save the world?”
Teraeth stared at me.
I raised both eyebrows. “Oh, come on. What are your plans? We save the world, re-imprison Vol Karoth, defeat Relos Var, destroy the demons, fix all the bad things. What happens next?”
“I…” Teraeth’s voice trailed off.
Teraeth had never planned on “what happens next.” Teraeth’s whole world must have been prophecies and special destinies since childhood, learning his chosen status on his mother’s divine knee. Or maybe just remembering it from his past life.
“What would you do?” Teraeth asked in lieu of answering.
“Hmm. I used to think I’d open a tavern, but really I just wanted to give my father a nice retirement. I was going to be the world’s greatest thief. No guarded vault or dragon hoard would be safe. Now? I don’t know. I might tag along after Janel. Pretty sure if this all sorted itself out tomorrow, she’d be right back in Quur overthrowing the empire. She has ambition. A hell of a lot more than I do.” I paused. “You can’t tell me you wouldn’t enjoy tearing down the Quuros Empire.”
Teraeth laughed. “If we ask nicely, the current Quuros emperor will help. I’ve just been fighting this for so long…” He sighed. “More and more, I wish I didn’t remember who I used to be. People shouldn’t remember their past lives. It hasn’t done me any favors.”
“Sure. It’s more than a little awkward to realize your father in this life used to be married to your widow from your last one. That would unnerve the hell out of me.”
Silence descended, walked right past pause, and settled firmly into stunned to stay awhile.
Oh no.
“So…” I cleared my throat. “No one’s mentioned that?”
“No, funny how that just hasn’t come up in idle chitchat.” Teraeth paused. “Wait, are you joking? Because if you’re joking, well done. You got me. I jumped at that, hook and bait.” He paused. “Oh gods. You’re not joking.”
“No. Sorry. Not joking. Doc told me about it back on Ynisthana. He married Atrin Kandor’s widow, Elana. Which I suppose is a sort of revenge. You took his country; he took your wife.”
Teraeth exhaled.
Then he started laughing.
The laughter verged on the hysterical, to the point where Teraeth started coughing. I reached over and slapped him on the back, fighting laughter myself. Not because it was funny but because that sort of laughter is contagious.
“My mother has a wicked sense of humor,” Teraeth finally said.
“You know, the stories don’t give Thaena nearly enough credit for that.” I was about to ask Teraeth if he was okay—although that seemed unlikely—when our ride slowed. The thriss steering the lizard tapped the top of the basket.
I understood their language enough to get the gist: climb out, you need to see this. Around the same time, a change of wind or just proximity carried a new scent: burning wood.
When we climbed out, we stood before a bridge arching over gigantic trees grown together into a larger whole. Each tree loomed so large the buildings jutting from their sides seemed like natural extensions rather than man-made constructs. The walkways joining them looked like lace.
And all of it was burned to a husk.