Chapter 13 The Provider
Datu
The promised land exists.
It’s an endless pit of unhinged appetite.
A ravine of tongue and mouth, a trip down the gullet, and a boiling hot bath in acid.
Wailing trumpets of silence. When you linger close enough, you hear, feel it in your gut.
They may think it is their own body’s call, but it’s the promised land.
It’s how it calls. How it lures you to feed its own infinite void.
There are no conditions to get in. Good or bad, naughty or nice. One must walk into the jaws of this obscure, divine place that is a god’s sharpest teeth.
I know the way into the promised land all too well. All I need to do is open my mouth.
“Is that some sort of deity the Terra worship?” Xiaoyu points at the shrine where the form of the Void is crudely cut. “I saw they had something like that on the coast, but it’s not the same shape.”
“It does not have a form. It is the god guarding Esoterra.”
Her eyes glaze over from memory or thought. “Strange, right? People always need an image of a god to worship it. I guess that’s what Terra and humans have in common.”
Stroking her short hair, I say, “Of all the centuries I have lived, nobody has perfected the image of him.”
Raising a doubtful brow at me, she counters, “How do you even know it’s male? Pretty sure a god is not put into boxes.”
“Boxes are necessary for organizing. And I know for a fact, the god has a cock.”
SHe gives me a bewildered look. “For a fact?”
“For fucking real.”
She bursts out laughing and smacks my arm. She thinks I’m jesting.
“You do know a lot about us humans. You even know the lingo.”
“Occassionaly, I participate in the ever-evolving human-speak.” It is my way of contending my silence. I am mute, I have no voice, but I know languages very well.
The females have begun to gather around the sacred shrine, setting up candles and whatever offerings they could gather. It is a necessary ritual, one that keeps the island afloat. As they begin to kneel and pray, Xiaoyu tugs at my arm.
“Shit, should we kneel?”
“I would rather you kneel to me in private.”
Rolling her eyes, she scratches her head. “They are quite obviously having a religious mass. We should take our leave if we aren’t participating.”
She is right, and as we exit, she catches sight of something afar. A sparkle, a glimmer. Like a crow, she stalks it while I wordlessly follow her. I know what captured her attention. It’s what the humans call a greenhouse.
Gasping, putting her hand over her mouth in awe. “Oh, my god, is that a mountain made out of quartz?”
I chuckle and urge her closer. “It is the nursery. We found that the rocks keep the sprouts safe in warm temperatures.” Safe from the drought.
“Baby Terra? Can we go inside?”
“Now, now, they are still in their sacs, so if we go inside, you need to be quiet.”
She makes a zipping motion over her lips and excitedly drags me toward the nursery.
Xiaoyu
Holy shit.
Holy shit!!!
“Let me get this straight. You have greenhouses made of QUARTZ?” I’m both hissing and whispering right now.
“We do not process glass. Better to use what naturally grows out of the earth.”
I’m still trying to wrap my head around the whole thing. When we step in, the humid, warm air hits us. It feels like spring here—which is typical in microclimate homes. The sprouts rise naturally from the ground next to what looks like a gravestone.
There are rows and rows of trees of varying species. One looks like a miniature pine tree, but instead of pines, it has pouches of little fruits. At closer inspection, it is anything but. The Terra “fetuses” are enclosed in what looks like a milky, closed pouch hanging from a branch like a fruit.
They are tucked so peacefully that it seems sacrilegious to breathe even a word.
I can’t read the etchings, but it’s Datu who does it for me.
“Jeku of Sikat, beloved provider, father of six sprouts.”
My mouth hangs open in horror. “W-what? Provider?”
“Do not look so terrified. It is the way of the Terra. The only way to pass on is to give life.”
I want to sit down and process for a moment, but Datu yanks me into his arms, hugging me out of my cognitive dissonance. What had I been expecting? That Terra just…get pregnant and pop out babies like mammals?
We are basically standing in a graveyard that is a nursery, too. The “greenhouse” is basically a uterus. How…morbid and yet it makes sense.
“Don’t you guys have another kind of incubator? To keep the babies safe for a period of time?”
“It is extinct. Trapped in amber for centuries.”
I have no idea what he just said. “Are you going to explain?”
“Do not think much of it. They pass on willingly.” He dismisses this.
“Is this why you guys have no males? Because they’re just dying?”
“I admit, the mortality rate of our sprouts have been very high. Most females survive while the males hatch but cannot last long…” There’s deep sadness in his tone, and it’s as if the babies hear him. They wiggle around in their little sacs, little hands reaching blindly.
Oh my god. It’s because of the drought. The male babies are too weak to withstand it, so they just…
“I’m so sorry, Datu.” I hug him tighter. This makes me all the more determined to help them. “Have you tried raising them in a controlled climate like this?”
He shakes his head. “A sheltered, cocooned life is a fate worse than death.”
His words slice something open in me, and I have to clench my body before I spill my guts out. All my life, I’ve been holding back. Stifling myself that I’m suffocating.
“Yes. Yes, it is.” I say it out of passion. Experience. Before letting him go, I squeeze him tight. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out. Pinky promise.” I hold up my pinky, hoping he understands.
Datu curls his around mine and bites my knuckles. “I will hold on to that.” Our fingers tangle together as we stroll through the nursery.
What bothers me, though, I have not seen Terra children, so I ask him.
“Esoterra compensates. There are very few males and we are birthing males who die when they are barely a year old.”
I look at all the sprouts, a heaviness settling in my heart. “These are all males?”
He nods, so I straighten my back. “They will live. I will make sure of it.” I feel it, a certainty racing through my veins. It’s as if I’d just realized my purpose. My calling. This is it. This is what those dreams were for.
“How long until they…open?”
“Hatch,” he corrects me. “They do not hatch at once.” Datu’s eyes shift toward the entrance of the nursery. Somebody is inside with us.
I spin around and find the same tall woman Datu called Savi. “My apologies for interrupting, my chief, but I hear Hara asking questions I can provide answers for.”
Datu inclines his head for her to continue. I don’t understand why she doesn’t look directly at him.
“Raiki, the main caregiver, tracks every trove. A trove is gifted by the provider—in this case, Jeku. These are the eldest sprouts, so they will hatch by summer time.”
“How long until summer here in human time?”
“Two months, approximately. They gestate for ten years.”
Fuck. That is a long time. “Those are fast-growing trees, right? Is it different in the other village?”
“No, every sprout hatches after ten years.”
“Got it,” I dig out my pen and paper, writing down every information they give me. Datu and Savi patiently answer everything I ask, and every now and then, the latter would randomly touch Datu for reassurance. If she had not looked so upset, I would have felt some type of way.
When Datu hauls me out to relax for a minute, he explains to me, “There is no need for jealousy. As one of the few males living, I act as their father.”
“Might I remind you that I’m human, and I do not know that. It just looks like flirting to me.” The stress is getting to me, and he hands me a fruit from my bag.
“Eat, please.”
For the first time, I do without protest. No fear, no deliberation of how much I’ll gain. Right now, I am dead set on working—which means I need to have all the energy.
“I really need to talk to Ingar.” I mutter with my mouth full.
The air whips around us. “For what reason?”
Making a weird noise in my throat, I point accusingly at him. “See, you’re even feeling some type of way when you know Ingar and Teva are together.”
“That is different,” he defends, but it’s too late. There’s resignation and amusement in his expression.
I swallow all my food and place my hands on my hips. “What is this, huh? Is this some sort of relationship? Why are you acting so possessive?”
I have a feeling his eyes are phosphorescent. They glow in times of strong emotions.
“Do not act like you don’t know I want you.” He snarls at me. “That my mouth’s watering at the thought of eating you again. That I am dying to sink into every single hole you have.”
Again, I am rendered speechless. Not knowing how to react, I just huff loudly in offense—clutching the toga tighter to me like pearls.
“See that? You aren’t prepared for real answers.” He admonishes arrogantly.
In a span of thirty seconds, our whole dynamic shifts. We’re not just unlikely allies anymore. I’m not the quiet, detached botanist sent to collect pollen, neither is he the blithe, blasé chief. And whatever we are now, it’s stronger, potent than ever.
I squeeze my thighs together, reminded again of what happened last night. The tension between us hangs like a guillotine.
“You and I—we’re working, not fucking.” I gesture to the two of us, attempting to maintain some kind of professional boundary.
“Why are you fighting it?” His voice caresses me.
“I have the Great Wall of China around, nobody invades me.” I’m talking out of my ass.
“You do not have a wall. You are the wall.” He grins wryly, triumphantly. “Lucky for me I can scale heights much steeper than meager walls. I’m far superior than a whole battalion of Mongols or Huns.”
I hate how witty he is. I hate how he understands everything I say. It makes him harder to ignore…and more attractive. Much, much more attractive.
Opening my mouth for a retort, he watches me expectantly. Embarrassingly, I stutter. “Well, y-you’re a-a—”
“A-a-a,” he is now openly ribbing me, and I clutch my hair in defeat. “I told you, you aren’t living here like you did back in the Otherlands.”
Bruh.
I poke his chest, hissing, “You’re lucky I’m not good at arguments.”
He hauls me into his arms, and that does it. I’m losing my breath and swooning like a damsel.
“I will let you win any other argument, just not this one.”