Chapter 20
- Crat'ax -
The village feels strange with all the Dry tribesmen here.
It should feel victorious. The platforms creak under the weight of splix, the drying racks are already full, and the smell of gutting and smoke lies thick in the air.
There are large heaps of new things that the other tribes have brought and that will make our lives better and easier in the year ahead.
Some want another Day of Trade soon, so that they can get more splix in exchange for their wares.
Men laugh louder than usual. The visiting tribes linger instead of leaving quickly, despite our canoes and our men being ready to take them back to the Dry they live in.
There are too many men here now. Too many colors of stripes. Too many eyes.
I notice it first when Callie walks past the racks with Gren’ix. Conversations stumble. Heads turn. A few smiles flicker, not unfriendly, but measuring. Staring, of course.
When she laughs at something Gren’ix says, one of the traders leans toward another and mutters something I can’t hear.
I step closer without thinking and place myself beside her. Her shoulder brushes my arm. She glances up at me and smiles, warm and easy, unaware of the way the air tightens around us.
“All right?” she asks quietly.
“Yes,” I say at once. “Just… many visitors.”
She nods. “Many traders. Many new things for the tribe. Splix for the others. Everyone is happy. Almost.” She sends a glance toward the opening of the bay.
I think I get what she means: she’s not happy.
When she moves on, I remain where I am, watching the men who watched her. They look away one by one, but not quickly enough.
“Fine work,” says Ires’ax from the Bututa tribe, coming to stand beside me. His eyes follow Callie as well. “A run like this will be spoken of for many seasons.”
“It was a good day,” I agree. “The Deep was generous to us. And to you.”
He nods. “So it appears. But mostly to you.”
“To the tribe,” I correct.
His mouth quirks. “Yes. To the tribe. And to you.”
We stand there a moment longer. Then he clears his throat.
“The woman,” he says. “She is… remarkable.”
“She is mine,” I reply, my voice calm. “Only mine.”
He lifts both hands slightly, palms out. “Of course. I mean no insult. I only wonder.”
I arc my eyebrows and calmly put my hand on the handle of my knife. “About what?”
“About whether the Deep will be so generous again.” He glances at me. “And whether such gifts come only once.”
I look at him fully now. “Say what you mean, outtriber.”
Ires’ax hesitates. Then he gathers his courage. “Are there more women like her?”
“I don’t know,” I lie.
“But she knows things,” he presses. “Craft. Nets. Plants. I heard it spoken of. She speaks as if she has seen other peoples. Other ways.”
“She has,” I say shortly. “She comes from far away, where there are women. Many. But they are not here. Only Callie.”
“And so,” he continues, still careful, “she came to you. Not to all of us.”
“I did not ask for her,” I snap.
“No,” he agrees. “The Deep chose, you say.”
“Do you question your Ancestors when good things happen?” I ask. “We accept what the Deep gives us. Who are we to decide? Who am I to give Callie back because some other men wish they had her, too?”
“Some say,” he adds, “that the Deep gives signs in pairs. A blessing. And a curse.”
I feel heat rise in my chest. “You speak too freely of things you know nothing about. Talk of your Ancestors, not our Deep. Unless you also see the truth.”
Ires’ax inclines his head. “Perhaps. But these are strange days. The jungle has changed. There are white bulbs everywhere. And then there are… other things.” He glances toward the lone platform with no hut on it.
Then he steps back. “Enjoy your good fortune, Crat'ax. Perhaps we shall meet again next year.”
He leaves me standing there with the echo of his words and the sense that they will not be the last.
Later, as the sun dips lower, more men find reasons to stand near me. None are openly hostile. That makes it worse.
“Is she Dry-born?” one asks.
“Does she worship the Deep?” another wonders.
“Will she stay?” someone else says, as if discussing weather.
I answer them all, briefly and firmly.
But when Carter’ez joins me near the fire, his expression is not curious. It’s troubled.
“The traders talk,” he says quietly.
I look up at the evening sky. “It’s hard to stop them.”
“Yes. But this time they talk about balance.”
I turn to him. “Balance? Do they not like our canoes? Yes, I saw the Opreti man falling into the bay. One should never try to stand up in a canoe. But he was rescued.”
“Another kind of balance,” he says. “One man has a woman. And many others have none.”
“She’s not a thing to be divided,” I say sharply. “There wouldn’t be much for each.”
“You know what I mean.” He sighs. “The Adropo tribe was just the first. There will be others. Others like Sprub’ex.”
“Then we shall deal with them like with Sprub’ex.”
He hesitates, then adds, “They also talk about what we keep in the water over there.”
My jaw tightens.
“It sounds as if they know. They say powerful things draw powerful things,” he continues. “And that when such things gather, disaster follows if they are not managed. The Plood and the Darkness… the connection is well known.”
“She’s not Plood,” I state wearily. “They didn’t send her.”
Carter’ez meets my eyes. “The men look at her. Then they look at the cage.”
Anger flares, hot and sudden. “She has nothing to do with that!”
“I believe you,” he says. “But other beliefs spread faster.”
I watch the smoke curl upward, gray and heavy against the sky. The special red-smoke wood is all gone.
When Callie finds me again, she’s holding two bowls of stew.
“They’re already talking about next season’s planting,” she says, handing me one. “Gren’ix thinks we can double the beds if the fertilizer works the way I think it will.”
“That’s good,” I say. “Gren’ix likes his plants. And the tribe needs them.”
She scoops a spoonful of stew. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing in particular. It’s been a long day. I’m… empty.”
She does not believe me, but she lets it go. “Today was good. Wasn’t it?”
“It really was,” I say. “The best day the tribe has seen.”
“And things can get better,” she continues. “When we go to see Theodora. When things settle, as you say.”
I don't answer at once.
She lifts her head slightly. “Crat'ax?”
“It will take time,” I say carefully.
“How much time?”
“I don’t know.”
Her eyes search mine. “You said after the splix run.”
“The run was huge,” I reply. “And now there is trade. More splix than we’ve ever had.”
Her mouth tightens. “There is always something.”
I reach for her, but she bends away, out of reach.
“I will keep my word,” I say.
She nods, but I feel the doubt settle between us like a third body.
After she sleeps, I lie awake.
I think of the Plood and the Darkness. Of how they are said to leave ruin behind. I think of how Callie came to me out of that ship and made my life rich beyond measure.
I think of the men’s eyes, and the tribesman who was cast out.
I think of the thing in the cage, patient and quietly mocking.