It ain’t long in the yarnin’, nay. Meronym weren’t in the Valleysmen’s store when the Kona attacked Honokaa, nay, she was up on the town walls sketchin’ the sea till a torchin’ crossbolt kicked that sketchbook out o’ her hands. She got back to the Valleysmen’s store b’fore the town gate was down, but Unc’ Bees shouted her I was missin’, so she went off lookin’ an’ that was the last she seen o’ my kin. Her horse ’n’ helmet she’d got from a Kona chief who’d charged down an alley an’ din’t charge out no more. In Kona gear an’ riotsome annacky, Meronym bluffed a way out o’ the blood-shot ’n’ torchin’ town. There weren’t no battlin’, nay, it was jus’ more a roundup, see, the Senator’s army s’rendered faster ’n anyun. Meronym first rided northly Valleywards, but Kona was gath’rin’ thick round Kuikuihaele for their swarm into the Valleys so she’d turned inland ’long the Waimea Track, but that road was thickly sentried an’ she cudn’t pass for Kona if stopped. Meronym turned southly reck’nin’ to reach Hilo an’ see if it was still in freesome hands. But Sonmi stayed her for long ’nuff to glance a cart trundlin’ by, an’ stickin’ out o’ that cart was two feet, an’ on those two feet was Prescient boots, an’ only one Windwardsman she knowed what weared Prescient boots. She daren’t try to rescue me in daylight, an’ one time she lost the cart ’cos she’d roundybouted a platoon o’ horses, an’ if it weren’t for the Kona’s bladdery chorusin’ as they gewgawed the Hawi boy she might’ve missed us in the dark an’ ridden by. Oh, the risk she’d taked to rescue me! Why din’t you hide an’ save your skin proper? asked I.
She made a stoopit question face.
Yay, but what’d we do? My thinkin’ was stormin ’n’ fearin’. The Valleys is raided ’n’ burnin, prob’ly . . . an’ if Hilo ain’t fallen yet, it’ll fall soon . . .
My friend jus’ tended my wounds ’n’ hurtin’s with bandagin’s ’n’ stuff, then raised a cup ’n’ med’sun stone to my lips. This’ll help fix your busted body, Zachry. Shut up your yibberin’ an’ sleep now.
A murmin’ man woked me in a leaky Old-Un shelter with leafs bustin’ thru the window holes. I was achin’ in a dozen places but not painin’ so sharply. Mornin’ was brisk ’n’ leeward-smellin’, but I mem’ried the desp’rate new age what was shadowin’ Windward an’, oh, in my head I groaned to be wakin’. ’Cross the room Meronym was speakin’ thru her orison to that sternsome Prescient what’d catched me sivvyin’ thru Meronym’s gear that first time. I gazed on for a beat, marv’lin’ once more, see, colors are spicier ’n’ brighter in orison windows. Soon he seen me risin’ an’ cogged me with a raise o’ his head. Meronym turned too an’ howzitted.
Better ’n yesterday. I stepped over to see that spesh Smart. My joints ’n’ bones groaned some. Meronym said I’d ’ready met this Prescient what she said was named Duophysite, an’ I said I’d not f’gotten ’cos he’d been so scarysome. The windowed Prescient was list’nin’ to us, an’ his skel’tony face soft’ned jus’ one shade. Oh, I wish we wasn’t meetin’ in such dark times, Zachry, said Duophysite, but I’m askin’ you to guide Meronym on one last trek, to Ikat’s Finger. You know it?
Yay, I knowed it, northly from the Last Valley over Pololu Bridge, a long spit o’ land what pointed nor’eastly. Was the Ship an-chorin’ for Meronym at Ikat’s Finger?
The two Prescients bartered a glance, an’ Duophysite spoked after a beat. We got bad news of our own to teach you, sorrysome to say. The orisons on Prescience an’ the Ship ain’t answered no transmission for days ’n’ days.
What’s a transmission? I asked.
A message, said Meronym, a window, an orison gath’rin’ like we was discussin’ with Duophysite now.
I asked, Are the orisons busted?
Way worser it may be, speaked the windowed un, see in recent moons a plague’s neared Prescience Isle, westly from Ank’ridge, yay, a terrorsome sick what our Smart can’t cure. Jus’ one in two hundred what catch this plague s’vive it, yay. Us Prescients on Ha-Why we got to act like we’re on our own now ’cos the Ship prob’ly ain’t comin’.
But what ’bout Anafi, Meronym’s son? Meronym’s face made me wish I’d bit my tongue off b’fore I’d asked.
I got to live with not knowin’, said my friend, so bleaksome I could o’ blubbed. I ain’t the first un who lived so, an’ I ain’t the last neither.
Well, that yibber busted a hope in me what I’d not cogged I’d got. I asked Duophysite how many Prescients was there on Hole Ha-Why.
Five, answered the man.
Five hun’erd? I asked.
Duophysite seen my dismay an’ knowed it too. Nay jus’ five. One on each main I o’ the chain. Our hole true is simply telled, an’ it’s time now you knowed it. We anxed this plague’d reach Prescience an’ snuff out Civ’lize’s last bright light. We was searchin’ for good earth to plant more Civ’lize in Ha-Why, an’ we din’t want to scare you islandsmen by big numbers of offlanders.
So you see, spoked Meronym now, your fears ’bout my true aims ’n’ all wasn’t total wrong.
I din’t care ’bout that no more. I said, if Prescients was like Meronym, yay, five thousand of ’em’d o’ been welcomed in the Valleys.
Duophysite darked, thinkin’ how few Prescients might be livin’ now. The boss o’ my tribe here on Maui where I’m speakin’ to you from is a friendsome leader same as your Abbess. He’s say-soed two war kayaks to cross the Maui Straits what’ll be at Ikat’s Finger come noon the day after ’morrow.
I vowed him I’d get Meronym safe there by then.
Then I can thank you for helpin’ her in person. Duophysite plussed there’d be space on them kayaks if I wanted to ’scape off Big I with her.
That settled my mind. Thank you, I telled the stranded Prescient, but I got to stay an’ find my fam’ly.
We stayed hid in that ruin one more night for my muscles to knit ’n’ my bruisin’ to heal. Heartbuggahin’ it was not rushin’ back to the Valleys for battlin’ or reccyin’, but Meronym seen the Kona horses ’n’ crossbowmen pourin’ t’ward the Valleys via Kuikuihaele an’ she ’ssured me, there’d not o’ been no dragged battlin’ for Nine Valleys yay it’d all o’ been over in hours not days, nay.
Bleaksome ’n’ haunted day it was. Meronym teached me how to use that spesh shinboney shooter. We practiced on pineapples then giant burrs then acorns till my aim was sharp. I sentried while Meronym sleeped, then she sentried while I sleeped some more. Soon our fire was dirtyin’ twilight mist again an’ we dined on Kona rations o’ salt mutton ’n’ seaweed an’ lilikoi fruits what growed in that ruin. I filled the horse’s oat bag an’ petted him an’ named him Wolt ’cos he was ugly as my cuz, then gloomed hurtsome, wond’rin’ who o’ my kin was still livin’. True-be-telled, not knowin’ the worst is badder ’n knowin’ it.