If Rasia refused to fight any longer, then Kai would do so for her. The moment tajih stepped through the door, he unfurled from the ottoman under the windowed view of the temple gardens and organized his presentation atop the Mythkeeper’s famously gold desk. He had been waiting all morning for her to come into work.
“What is going on?” tajih asked, concerned. “Are you in trouble? Have you been at the temple all night?”
“What?” He looked down at himself and realized he wore his night robe. He had been obsessively thinking about Rasia’s predicament and searching for a solution, and he might have woken up in the middle of the night with an idea that wouldn’t leave him. He had taken the underground tunnels from the house to the temple to do some late-night research. Might as well, since Rasia had been staying at Ysai’s house since the argument.
“Yes, I mean . . . listen,” he said and pulled out her tall-backed chair for her to sit. She eyed him and then walked over to sit down and imperiously looked over all the scrolls he had gathered for her to study.
“A few centuries ago, before much of the Grankull had navigated beyond the mesas, there used to be a contingent of scribes that explored and charted the Desert.” He cited his references: recorded accounts, personal entries, and old sketches.
“I know,” tajih said, patiently.
“Well, yes, I know that you know, but I pulled everything you could use to convince the Council. They do not know.”
“Convince the Council of what?”
He asked for her patience. She crossed her arms and conceded. “Okay, so, most of the missions ended when we reached the Dragon’s Coast, primarily because the other directions became too treacherous and too dangerous to continue exploring. No one made it far into the deadlands or past the northern forests, even though throughout the years, missions were sent to try again. Our need for more food sources always forced us to try again, but that all changed with Zephyr-kull’s father. He made it through the northern forests, and yet there’s no record of how he accomplished this. Thus, I can only assume that the Council knows how to get through the northern forests but doesn’t want anyone else to know.”
He stopped in his presentation and looked to his tajih for confirmation. She reluctantly nodded. “It was a decision of a Council before me, but yes, they swore Raiment Foreigner to silence as a condition for allowing him to trade here.”
“Why?”
“For many reasons, and some I’m inclined to agree with. One of our biggest concerns was the fact that the outside world has no magic. It is believed to have died out.”
“Impossible,” he said. “Magic doesn’t die. They just don’t know where it is.”
“But if that is what they believe, what do you think would happen if the outside world were to hear of the sort of things that Nico-po could do?”
“That’s it, isn’t it?” he asked. “The Grankull has been searching for years for other sources of food, and it just gives up, even knowing all that Raiment Zara-kulani brings in every year? Ava-ta silenced him. She was the one who made this decision.”
“With a majority vote of the Council, but yes, she did greatly influence that vote,” tajih revealed. “She only wanted to protect you.”
“It’s too late for that,” he said. “Raiment Zara-kulani has become rich off our evory. It is valued in other parts of the world in sums the Grankull can barely comprehend. That sort of greed will bring outsiders here whether we want them or not. If there is a way, other people will find it, and we need to be prepared for when they come.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“We need to know what is out there. We can’t keep our heads in the sand. You have the full authority to bring back those scribes of old if you wanted to, and I can think of no better candidate than Rasia Dragonfire. Look,” he said quickly before she responded. “Here are her maps.”
He spread them all out on the desk, including the large one that engulfed the gold surface and hung off the edges.
“This map is just pictures.”
“Look,” he insisted. He rolled out the official Grankull map to compare. “Truly look at them. There are places and markers on Rasia’s maps that don’t exist on any map here in the temple, and they are more accurate regarding distance, too. She did all of this without any of the standard cartographer tools. Her writing might not be perfect, but all she needs is a little practice. She is brilliant. All she needs is the chance to prove it.”
Tajih stared at him and said softly, “You really care about her, don’t you?”
He raised his shoulders to his ears. “She was always going to leave,” he said achingly. “Sooner or later. Is the Grankull so willing to let the greatest asset of this generation walk away? If there is not a job here to fit her, then it should build her one that does.”
“Okay,” she said, convinced. “Creating this job is within my authority, but I can’t lift the secrecy ban regarding the forests. That must go through the Council.” He splayed his hands meaningfully over all the information he had gathered for her to present her case. “I get it. Thank you for doing my job for me, but why not wait until after the voting season? By then, most likely your jih will be in power and this will be easier.”
“But, by then, Zephyr-kull’s father would have already left for the year, and it would be far safer for her to leave with him. She could submit an eyewitness account of how he gets through the forests as one of her first tasks.”
“Alright. I’ll present it in the next Council meeting,” tajih promised. “But don’t get your hopes up. Politics are always unpredictable during the voting season.”
“I know. Thank you,” he said. He knew the chances were slim, but he would never forgive himself if he didn’t try.
“I don’t need help,” Nico said as she boiled water for the tea. She glanced over at Kai, judging him as he fussed over cleaning their saucers. “Why don’t you go out there and sit with him?”
Nico finally managed to wheedle him into agreeing to an informal tea out on the veranda. There was a full moon tonight, so people had the day off from work. Most people spent the day doing errands or spent the time with family and flames. He could hear Rae laughing outside from the kitchen. Kai wouldn’t know what to do with himself. He didn’t have anything to say.
“You don’t have to say anything,” Nico said and poured the boiling water over the tea leaves. “No pressure. You can take things as slow as you want.”
He wished Rasia were here to shield him from all the awkwardness, but she was out in the Desert with the hunting kulls practicing drills. Maybe she wouldn’t be so pissed at him by the time she returned home. Maybe he’d have the chance to earn her forgiveness before the true hunting season began, when he wouldn’t see her in several blinks of the Hunter’s eye.
Nico lifted the tea tray. He snatched off the bowl of prepared sliced peaches and jujubes, just to have some excuse as to why he was helping (not hiding) in the kitchen. She shook her head at him, and he trailed after her outside to the veranda. Rae held their hand over their eyes and jumped on count, showing Kenji the newest game they had learned in school. Kenji looked up with those laugh-lines at the corner of his eyes, and Kai could see the concentrated effort to pretend this was all normal. Unconsciously, his hand went up to his shroud and nervously adjusted it around his face.
“Kailjnn,” Kenji acknowledged.
Kai gave a quick nod, then wobbled down to the low veranda table. Nico set down the tea tray, and Rae ran over to stick their fingers all over the peach slices.
“Now that you’ve been at it for some time, do you prefer teaching little ones or the new-faces?” Nico asked, charging forward with the conversation and proving true that no one required Kai to provide any input. He’d wanted this his entire life, to finally be a part of the family, to belong, and in the end, he couldn’t bring himself to breathe a sound.
“They both have their challenges,” Kenji laughed.
“Honestly, I didn’t think the school prepared me very well for the Forging,” she said. “There’s so much knowledge I found lacking, and what about those families that can’t afford school? They are literally thrown out into the Desert without an oar to turn. If everyone has a job, then the expectation is that everyone should be able to afford school, but when food is scarce, that is simply not how it works. People are forced to choose how to allocate their resources. They are forced to favor one child or none at all. School should be free.”
“I ended up alright,” Kenji said, thoughtfully. “Sometimes I do wish I had gotten the chance to go to school growing up, but Anji-ji was undeniably brilliant with numbers. It was hard putting him through school, but we did it. And now he single-handedly designs the Grankull’s windship fleet.”
“You don’t talk about your family much,” she said. “I can recite the names of Ava-ta’s bloodlines, but I barely know anything about yours.”
Kenji lounged back in the cushions, settling in, and took a sip of tea. Surrounded by the pottery and the lush vines sprawling around the pergola posts, he looked like an artist’s perfect subject. “My ancestors bred and trained horses.”
A stone dropped in Kai’s stomach. Everyone knew what happened to the horses.
“Oh,” she said.
“Yep. The family was pretty poor afterward, but tah was always prideful about that legacy. It would have been great if he cared less about that and more about his gambling debts. Got him killed in the end, so it was just me, Anji-ji, and your granta. I wish you could have known her. She was a tough little thing with fingers that could work a loom the speed of a hummingbird. You were too young when Death came for her.”
“Putting Anji-ji through school all worked out in the end though. Jih suggested to your granta that I play at one of his pourings, right here on this veranda. The musicians had their equipment set up under those trees, and kulani sat right where you’re sitting right now. I still remember that moment when she looked at me. After dinner, she asked if I wanted to dance.”
Nico smiled, knowing this part of the story. “And you told her no. No one had ever told Ava-ta no before. After that, you were invited to every pouring afterward, and the real dance began.”
“Yep.”
Nico smiled and looked out from the veranda. “I would like to do that—host a big pouring like old times. Maybe as a celebration once the election ends?”
“That would be nice,” he agreed. “Any update on the campaigns?”
“My competitor for the Wing-seat can hardly drum up enough support to compete against me. The Hindlegs Councilor is in my pocket. My candidate for the Belly Councilor is running unopposed. Ashe-shi is doing surprisingly well, but Ysai-kull is having a tough time against his tajih, and the campaign for the Pelvis seat is getting really messy. They’ve recently sent assassins after each other. I have a meeting scheduled with the Pelvis Councilor today.”
Kai zoned out as they talked of politics. It was all Nico talked about nowadays, and he was already well-versed in the current political situation and how hard it was to usurp established seats. He leaned over and cleaned the stickiness from Rae’s cheeks and eventually was pulled over to the swing bench. He sat Rae in his lap and pushed them into the air.
“Jijih,” Rae whispered, in that loud childish voice, “It’s okay. Tah knows you’re a good dragon, now.”
“Yeah?” he smiled and hugged Rae in his lap. They swung on the bench, then stopped at the sight of someone approaching down the road.
“Fair winds,” tajih greeted and smiled even further to see them all gathered.
“Ji-lani! Join us,” Kenji greeted, waving her over. He leaned on the leaves twined over the railing. “Does jijih need me to come rescue him again? If he keeps getting pulled out of meetings, they’re going to catch on.”
“Wait, what are you two doing?” Tajih raised her hands. “I don’t want to know. I’m here to speak with Kai-po regarding his request last week.”
He slammed his feet to the ground to stop the swing. His heart pounded in his chest. He asked, hoping, “You heard from the Council?”
“I didn’t know the Council was meeting,” Nico said, frowning.
“It was an emergency meeting.” Tajih cracked a pleased smile and said to him, “The Council said yes.”
He jumped to his feet and then scrambled to grab Rae before they fell.
“Said yes to what? What’s going on?” Nico asked.
“The Council has agreed to offer Rasia Dragonfire the position of scribe,” tajih explained, “like the scribes of old who charted the Desert. They agreed to lift the secrecy ban and fund an expedition for Rasia Dragonfire to join Raiment the Foreigner on his travels. It was Kai-po’s idea.”
“And they agreed to everything?” he asked. “To the gonom and the money?”
“Yes, it is an official job. It’ll follow the same rules as the hunting kulls.”
“Wow,” Nico looked between him and tajih. “That is an amazing opportunity for her.”
“You’re partly responsible,” tajih said. “The Council has become increasingly concerned about your campaign. They hope that this new position shows that the Council can be progressive. The Council just voted. It’s approved. I talked to Raiment Foreigner this morning, and they’ve agreed to cut his trade taxes if he allows Rasia Dragonfire to officially submit to the public record an account of his passage through the northern forests and beyond.”
“Where is Rasia Dragonfire?” tajih asked. “I’d like to see the expression on her face.”
“She is outside the Grankull right now. She’s with the kulls running drills,” he answered.
“But Raiment Foreigner is due to leave in two days. She needs to be here. She needs to be back on time.”
“She will. I’ll make sure of it,” he promised.
“Okay. Get her here,” tajih insisted, nodding, and then left in the direction of the temple.
He couldn’t stop smiling. He did it. He found Rasia a way out. Then his mind crunched the numbers. He needed to leave now. He turned to Nico. “I need you to sell Ava-ta’s dagger at the market. I need you to get Rasia’s windship out of the impound. I’ve got to go get her or she’s not going to make it back in time.”
“No point in doing all that. I’ve got a few webs I can pull. I can get you a ship,” Kenji said, and shrugged.
He froze. He said, hollow over the words, “I didn’t ask for your help.”
“Seems to me you need it. The impound office is closed today.” Kenji stood and stretched from the table.
His jaw tightened. It hurt to physically creak the word from his mouth. “Fine.”
Kenji finished off his tea and set off down the road. Kai glared at his retreating figure.
Nico hunched, introspective, staring at the tea leaves like bones tossed in the sand. She asked softly, “You’re going with her, right? If that’s what you want to do, I’ll be supportive of you. Tah is around to take care of Rae. Things are going well with the campaign, and I’m fairly sure I’ll have the votes when the time comes. You’ve been doing well with the meditations and at containing any large outbursts. It’ll be good for you to do something for yourself. Out there in the world, you won’t have to look over your shoulder anymore. I admit, it’s scary to think of you out in the unknown, but I feel better knowing you and Rasia will be together. I question Rasia’s dumb decisions sometimes, but I don’t question that she’ll protect you with every fiber of her being.” She leaned forward. “Kai, I can change the Council, and you can earn your face, but the fact of the matter is, you’ll never be safe here.”
Kai hadn’t really thought beyond the fact that Rasia would be potentially leaving. Now it was real, and he had a choice to make. His brain tentatively tried to consider the possibilities, but his bones felt interred to the spot.
“It’s not forever. You can leave with Zephyr’s father and return with his caravan within the year to make it back in time for the next Forging. Zephyr did it. By then, everything will be different, I promise. This is perfect. You finally have a chance to truly experience life. Go live, Kai.”