"I saw the canals she filled with water in Bocoum. Heard tales of the things."
"Yes, that's part of the problem. She is doing things without understanding the consequences."
"Consequences?" The word-and the yawning things it might mean-seemed too big for her small mouth. "What consequences? Like the foulthings?"
Looking slightly impatient, Shen glanced back at the Santoth, signed to them with her hands, then turned back to Kelis. "They want us to start moving. They know how slow we are. I can't tell it all to you. Some things I don't have words for. Yes, the foulthings are part of it. The Santoth made those themselves, and they regret it. But they say the beasts are nothing compared to the curses Corinn could unleash. Every time she takes from one place and puts in another place, she leaves a scar between the two. Others of the song can use those scars to enter the living world."
"Others of the song?"
"Kelis," Shen said, placing a hand on his shoulder like a mother might to a child, "the Santoth weren't the only sorcerers ever thrown down or banished. There were others. There were evil ones like the Five Disciples of Reelos. There were early mistakes of Elenet. There are sorcerers from other worlds the Giver created. Some of them-especially if they put their ears to the scars-can hear Corinn's singing, too. Some of them have already begun speaking to her, gaining strength from her. She may not even know it, but the Santoth believe she has opened doors. It is only a matter of time before things step through those doors into this world. That's why we must go to Acacia, speak to my aunt, let the Santoth study the book, and prepare to face whatever is coming."
Shen exhaled. "I think that's enough for now. Are you ready? It's a long walk."
Kelis could not imagine what to say. Better that he be practical. "We should wake your mother and Naamen."
"She's not going to like this," Shen said, speaking through a crooked grin. She pushed herself to her feet, looking over at her mother's form, wrapped tight in a blanket. "I'll wake her with a kiss. That will be nice, won't it?"
He nodded and watched the girl walk away, again revealing herself to be the child she was, light on her feet and small, so small. But what was in store for her?
A little distance away, Leeka stood immobile, face hidden, though his body turned to follow the child. And a little farther, when Kelis swung his gaze toward them, were the sorcerers, immobile and yet seething with motion, watching them all. Impatient.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Mena found the note beside her on the bed when she awoke. Seeing the square of paper, she knew exactly what it was, and the knowledge twisted her heart. Melio… It meant he was gone, probably afloat already on one of the early transports sailing from Acacia for the Teh Coast. A cruel trick, for he had given no sign that he would leave her like this when they spoke last night, nor when they made love just hours ago. He had said not a word when she yet again washed herself clean of his seed. Or perhaps he had.
The night before, naked against him, still breathing hard from the conclusion of their lovemaking, she spoke as if it were just another night. True, she did touch on the bizarre realities of their life, but these were topics they turned over many times.
All this that we're doing," she had said, "in so many ways, it feels unreal. I live it, yes. I do it. I slay monsters and ride a winged lizard and lead armies to battle… It's strange, though, when I step back and imagine how others will hear this story. That's what it is, you know? It's a tale from the distant past. It's Edifus and Tinhadin. It's Hauchmeinish. It's the Forms before they were Forms. How is my killing Maeben or slaying the foulthings any more probable than the Priest of Adaval slaying the wolf-headed guards of the rebellious cult of Andar?"
"There were twenty wolf-headed guards, for one thing. You had much safer odds."
Mena nudged him. "Be serious."
"Even if people forget the Priest of Adaval, they will not forget Mena Akaran. Not Maeben. Not the slayer who flies with beauty. Not the warrior princess who beat back the savage Numrek. Such things can't be forgotten."
Had they said more? Yes, she believed they had. Strange, though, that they had managed to speak of mundane things. She had described a dream she had had in her childhood, one in which she and a girl had tried to catch fish with nets. He had claimed he never dreamed, saying life was strange enough for him by far. They had talked nonsense about which were worse, the bites from mosquitoes in Senival or those of the black flies of the Aushenian spring.
At some point, Mena had rolled away from him and, without thought, out of habit, really, went to perform the brief ritual of cleaning her sex and washing away his seed with the herb mixture he so hated. Perhaps it was at that moment that he parted with her. For, when she slipped back into bed, he turned away without comment or protest. His breathing had been steady, though not yet that of sleep, and she had chosen to wrap an arm around him and hook her ankle over his and share the silence. That silence, though, may have been different to him than it was to her.
The note she held pinched between the fingers of her two hands testified to that.
M,
You were right about everything, of course. I was slow to learn, but I know it now,
M.
She knew the words by heart, for she had written them to Melio almost ten years earlier. It was the note she had written him. And below it, the same postscript: I love you. If ever the world allows it I'll prove it to you.
Exactly what she had written just after returning from killing Maeben on Uvumal and just before she gave herself up to Maeander Mein. On that occasion, she could not face saying good-bye to Melio. There was too much uncertainty before her, everything in the world at risk, and she had not been sure that she would be able to face it if he asked her not to. She penned the letter and set it beside him and snuck away on silent feet. Cowardly in many ways. Hurtful in others. And yet the things she wrote to him were completely true. He had been right; she had been slow; she did love him and wanted to prove it someday.
How to interpret this newer version of the same? Was he making the same promises to her? No, because he had no need to prove himself. He had never failed her in any way. Or was he reminding her of the things she once promised and had failed, thus far, to deliver? Yes, she thought so. There was only one thing more she could have done to prove her love to him, and she had held off doing it year after year after year. She deserved to be reminded of it. If it really was meant to remind her of her note to him, she understood; and if the world allowed her another chance, she would not fail to give her all to him. She would prove her faith in him, if not in the goodness of the world.
If that was her refrain for the morning, by the afternoon she had taken on another. She's only my sister, Mena told herself time and time again. I don't fear my sister.
The fact that she repeated this a hundred times as she walked to answer Corinn's summons rather belied the assertion. When Mena entered her office, Corinn stood behind the chart table, studying the array of maps and documents displayed there. She looked up, distracted for a moment, and then calmed her features. "Mena, I'm sorry that Melio has had to leave. I know that must be hard for you."