Chapter Nine #2
At least Gwynira had spared the people of Rahvekya from sharing the same grim fate as the Imperial subjects on the mainland.
She had refused to let Sorin steal their ability to the Dream for himself, saving them from generations of hopelessness and disconnection—not to mention the chaos that currently gripped the rest of the Empire.
For that alone, Naia owed her a great deal.
Sachi continued speaking, her voice subdued. “We’ve been traveling to places where newly awakened Dreamers and Voidlings are showing up. Sometimes, all we can do is control the damage after the fact. But when we can reach them in time . . .”
Zanya finished her wine. “I thought we knew the extent of it,” she said softly. “We were making progress in Kasther. Sachi founded a sanctuary for the new Dreamers there, and watching them learn to Dream was beautiful. But I don’t think I understood how massive the Empire is.”
“There are so many,” Sachi agreed. “How often have we crossed the Empire now, following the reports Elevia has managed to gather? I’ve lost count.”
“So have I,” Zanya admitted.
Naia finished drawing the last bit of water from Sachi’s hair and dropped the sparkling mass of droplets into a basin by the hearth. Sachi thanked her with a squeeze of her hand before turning on the stool to face her.
She met Naia’s gaze. “The good days are the ones where we can reach them in time and get through to them. When we can’t . . .” Her voice cracked. “Those are the bad days.”
Even speaking of their work had made them sadder, wearier.
They were both bending beneath this weight, and that was the real danger here, wasn’t it?
There was no one to truly help them. Only Zanya could safely deal with those who had awakened to the Void.
And even though the other members of the High Court stood a better chance of assisting Sachi with the new Dreamers, she felt every loss so keenly—and they could not prevent the emotional toll those losses were taking on her.
“It’s an impossible task,” Naia whispered.
“We know.” There was no denial in the acknowledgment, only aching truth. But Sachi’s lips turned up in a smile as she looked over at Zanya. “But we’re good at those. Impossible tasks.”
Zanya’s soft smile matched her lover’s, and connection pulsed between the two of them, filling the room more completely than the crush of servants who had accompanied Naia.
She knew that the nature of Sachi and Zanya’s relationship still puzzled some in the Sheltered Lands.
They weren’t accustomed to the idea that creation and destruction walked hand in hand.
To them, one was the essence of life, and the other an enemy.
The notion that their beloved Dream could also be beloved of the Void was so foreign to them that it was simply unthinkable.
This, at least, was a comfort that Naia could give them.
“You know,” she murmured, “the two of you have always made so much sense to me, and now I understand why. The people here have different beliefs than the ones common in the Sheltered Lands. The division between creation and destruction, the Dream and the Void—it isn’t a division at all.
They go together. You cannot have one without the other.
” She gestured between Sachi and Zanya. “Just like you. Two halves of the same whole.”
Sachi closed her eyes only to have an errant tear escape and slide down her cheek. Zanya smoothed it away, a grateful smile curving her lips.
After a moment, Sachi inhaled on a ragged sigh. “Tell us more,” she urged. “Are you Rahvekya’s answer to the idea of Creation?”
“You mean, am I you?”
Sachi laughed. “Yes, I suppose I do.”
“No,” Naia told her, then grimaced apologetically. “The two of you don’t exactly . . . exist.”
Sachi’s eyes went wide, and Zanya barked out a delighted laugh.
Naia hurried to explain. “Rahvekyans don’t consider creation and destruction to be entities of their own. They’re more like ubiquitous aspects of being. The inevitability of both life and death exist in—and are reflected by—everything.”
“I see.” Sachi wrinkled her nose. “But they do believe in gods.”
“Of course. Though they tend to offer greater respect to the ones who command the elements versus representations of more . . . abstract concepts.”
Zanya huffed out another low laugh. “No wonder the locals don’t seem very impressed by us, Sachi.”
But Sachi leaned forward, her eyes alight with interest. “So someone like Ash or Dianthe would take precedence over, say, Elevia or Aleksi?”
“On the face of it? Yes,” Naia admitted. “The Rahvekyan people’s lives are so greatly affected by the earth and sea that anyone with the ability to gentle either would be of great importance.”
Sachi rested her chin on her hands. “Fascinating.”
It felt so at odds with the customs of the Sheltered Lands that Naia almost apologized reflexively.
“Someone like Elevia is recognized as a god, of course, but their respect would be for her knowledge and skills. She would be viewed much like a very experienced elder. The same applies to Aleksi and his diplomatic talents.”
Sachi cocked one eyebrow. “And if they knew that one facet of Aleksi’s power involved enabling new life to flourish in barren soil?”
“That would instantly elevate him in their estimation, possibly above Ash and Dianthe.” Naia retrieved her wine from where it had sat, warming by the hearth. “Surviving the harsh physical elements means little if you’re only going to starve instead.”
“Fair enough,” Zanya observed as she began to braid Sachi’s hair.
Sachi seemed so eager to learn more that Naia offered another bit of Rahvekyan doctrine.
“In addition to the Dream and the Void both existing in equal measure in all things, we also believe that everything has a soul—man, beast, plant, rock. That is how the island and I coexist. There is no concept of the inanimate here.”
“The differences are so intriguing, are they not?” Sachi’s brow furrowed. “They obviously believe in the rebirth of souls, as well.”
“Actually, they don’t.” There, at least, Rahvekyan beliefs aligned very closely with those of the Sheltered Lands.
The prevailing thought in both lands was that death was not simply an ending, but the ending.
Your soul would be returned—in the Sheltered Lands, back to the Dream.
And in Rahvekya . . . “Here, you are conveyed back into the essence of the world, of magic, of being. And you no longer exist as a discrete entity, separate from the whole.”
“Very similar to the Sheltered Lands, then.” Sachi sighed.
“I don’t know that I agree with it. I mean, I know that souls return to the Dream, but the notion that they stop existing as such?
I cannot accept that, for I have seen otherwise.
” Her face brightened with a smile. “So why could they not come back? You did.”
“Perhaps our Naia is a special case,” Zanya suggested.
Naia very much doubted that, since Theron—Einar—had returned, as well.
“Or,” Zanya continued, “maybe everyone got it just a little bit wrong.”
“Does it really matter?” Sachi asked. “How and why you came back, that is? Or does it only truly matter that you did?”
It was a question Naia could not answer, not without spilling the truth of Einar’s rebirth, as well. She was happy to be back, glad to have a second chance not only to live, but to love again. She desperately needed it, considering how she and Theron had left things between them.
But the why was even more complicated—and elusive. Had she been returned for a chance to address all the things left unfinished in her previous life? Or did the universe need something from her now?
It was a heavy thing to consider. “Everything is so different now,” she murmured, and she wasn’t even sure what she meant. That circumstances had changed since this morning? Or since her last existence?
Sachi leaned forward, suddenly intense. “The things you didn’t know weren’t less true just because you didn’t know them. They were always there. By that same token, they are not more true now that you remember. You are who you have always been, Naia.”
Naia inhaled a shaky breath that felt almost like a sob. “Yes, but I didn’t feel it, Sachi. Certainly not the way I do now. Ignorance truly was bliss, in a way.”
“It always is. Bliss, that is.” The Dream nearly vibrated with power. “Right up until the moment it isn’t, because the only way to survive—and protect those around you—is to know the whole truth.”
“So it changes nothing?”
“No.” Sachi slowly shook her head. “I think it changes everything. But it doesn’t have to change you.”
Naia could feel herself spiraling under the weight of all the questions.
And, as much as she appreciated the chance to talk through them with the only people in the world who might understand, none of this belonged in an evening meant for diversion and celebration.
They needed to rest, and to remind themselves of their reasons for fighting so hard.
Sachi and Zanya both needed that, and badly.
So Naia finished off her wine, set down her mug, and held out her hands. “You’ve both been very helpful and very polite, so I give you full leave to ask.”
Sachi frowned as Zanya slipped the final pin into her elaborate hairstyle. “To ask what?”
Zanya nudged Sachi’s shoulder as she gathered her brushes and combs and pins. “For the salacious details of her affair with Aleksi and Einar, obviously.”
Sachi gasped in mock outrage. “We would never be so crass!”
Zanya laughed as she laid down her tools and positioned herself behind Naia’s chair.
“I might. We already know Aleksi is capable of turning a lover’s world upside down, but Einar .
. .” She leaned over Naia’s shoulder and pinned her with an assessing look.
“Have you heard the songs they sing about him in dockside taverns? His passions are legendary.”
Naia’s cheeks grew hot, and she covered them with her hands.
Now it was Sachi’s turn to laugh. “Darling, you are—officially, now—far too old to blush.”
Naia had no witty rejoinder. She was too old to blush, ages too old. But she didn’t have a lot of experience with sex, even before she died and was reborn. She’d had exactly one lover in all her thousands of years on Rahvekya . . . and he just happened to be the current subject of conversation.
So she simply said, “Einar does everything with the same amount of focus and dedication.”
Zanya made a noise that was half snort, half laugh—and all speculation. “Then I’m honestly surprised your knees still work.”
“Zanya.”
“What! He’s impressive on the battlefield.” She snorted again. “Though I’m fairly sure I could win a fight against him on land. I would not try it near the sea.”
“I wouldn’t fight him at all, not if I could help it.” Sachi shook her head as she rose and headed for the wardrobe. “He has hidden depths, that one.”
Startled, Naia froze. Did Sachi know? Could she see or sense it? Or had she plucked the truth about Einar straight from Naia’s mind? She watched Sachi closely, but the other woman only winked at her in the mirror over the vanity.
Then Sachi spoke again, still watching Naia in the mirror. “And Aleksi?”
“Aleksi is . . .” Naia could not say more past the sudden lump in her throat.
Everyone from the Sheltered Lands that associated with the High Court knew what it was like to have Aleksi focus on them like no one else existed in the entire world.
But when he really did it, not out of simple, sincere interest but out of affection—out of love—
The feeling was impossible to articulate, and tears sprang to Naia’s eyes.
Zanya squeezed her shoulder and leaned down to whisper, “You don’t have to say anything.”
Naia grasped her hand gratefully. By the time she blinked away the tears, Sachi was standing in front of her, smiling.
“Your hair looks wonderful,” she said.
Naia lifted a hand to the locks that still cascaded around her shoulders. “It’s only half done.”
“No, it’s perfect,” Sachi countered, then pulled Naia to her feet. “Come. We still need to do Zanya’s hair and finish getting ready, and you cannot be late for the ball. Aleksi and Einar have to see you in that dress.”
Naia clung to Sachi, gratitude tightening her throat. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For being here. For listening. For everything.”
Sachi’s soft smile reflected the light that dwelled within her. “That’s what friends are for.”
Naia still did not know how to navigate the path forward. Nothing was settled . . . but perhaps it did not have to be. She would make it, as would Einar.
Because they weren’t alone this time.