Chapter Eleven Ris
chapter eleven
ris
I’m half carried back to the farm by Kopiro, Ryla, and Vullis. We nearly go tumbling over the sea cliffs several times trying to make our way by starlight alone. The world is still spinning, and I’m not sure if it’s the piyata cider or the smash to the head.
‘I’ve never met a half-decent Seaguardian, have you?’ I ask bitterly.
‘I hope they all step in sheep shite,’ Ryla curses through gritted teeth.
‘Ah but rotten apples, Ris,’ Kopiro replies.
I wince. ‘Spoil the whole barrel. That’s what they always forget to add.’
‘I’d rather a fist in the face than the mind games of some of them,’ Ryla adds. At least you know where you stand.’
‘Speaking of—’ I stumble, leaning on Ryla’s arm as they help me steady my feet. I let out a groan like an elder.
‘Did they break anything?’ Vullis asks.
‘Just my spirit.’
Ryla barks out a gruff laugh. ‘How can you quip at a time like this?’
‘It’s that or lie in a puddle and wait for death.’
‘Grim.’
‘You did ask.’
We’re not as quiet as we hoped to be. Biba wakes up, frightened by the noise, and then by the blood. Fetch bounds up to me, trying to lick my wounds. My friends try to keep everyone away as they clean me up on the sofa.
‘She’s all right, little one,’ Kopiro says soothingly to Biba.
‘Her face is hurt.’ I can hear from Biba’s warbling voice that she’s close to tears.
‘Nothing serious. Go back to sleep, Biba,’ he tries again.
‘She’s clearly upset,’ Ryla argues, picking up Biba and patting her on the back.
‘Let her come,’ I sigh, holding my arms out for her. Ryla brings her over, setting her down carefully on the sofa.
Biba reaches for my face with her small hands, and I flinch. I can’t bear that I do, but that’s the truth of it. Her hands are a weapon.
‘Be careful, it’s delicate,’ Vullis warns gently.
Biba touches my temple and ear, her fingers cold and smooth.
Warmth spreads across the side of my head.
The room stops swaying and my vision steadies.
The throbbing across my head eases, turning from a vomit-inducing migraine to a dull headache behind my eyes.
The world narrows, dark edges creeping into my periphery so I can only see Biba’s face.
She is still on the verge of tears, but she hiccups a joyous laugh.
And now I understand. I snatch her hand away and everyone startles.
‘She meant no harm, Ris,’ Kopiro says, alarmed.
‘I know. I just don’t want her to have to deal with me like this.’ I bite back what I desperately want to tell her: that her kin did this to me, in some twisted form of protection. Why are we cursed to hurt the ones we love? ‘Thank you, Biba. Let the adults talk now; go back to sleep.’
She reluctantly follows Vullis as he beckons her back to bed with the doll Dodi. Her face is full of confusion, as if she’s questioning what she did. She didn’t look like that after the otter-cat; then it was a detached curiosity. But this stabs at the heart of me. Am I cruel to distance myself?
Ryla takes out that infernal map and unfurls it on the table. We all stare at it like it’s a cursed object. No one wants to speak first, and we wait until Vullis has returned from putting Biba to bed. They leave me to break the silence.
‘I have to do it,’ I say eventually.
‘You can’t,’ Ryla hisses, slapping their hand on the table.
‘Ryla,’ Kopiro snaps, placing a hand on their shoulder.
‘It’s the only way.’ I direct my stare at each of them in turn: Ryla’s raw anger, then Vullis, who bites his thumbnail; and finally, to Kopiro, whose face is the softest among them.
They scan each other’s faces, too, trying to gauge the group.
They are scared and angry on my behalf. I feel their love radiating throughout the room. But this is something I have to do.
‘Those waters are infested with Seaguardians and pirates,’ Ryla protests.
‘And cryptids, if you believe those fisherfolk tales,’ Vullis chimes in.
‘And no one has ever returned, at the queen’s behest or otherwise,’ says Kopiro with finality.
The breath catches in my throat at the truth of that.
‘You’re not a sailor, Ris,’ Kopiro pleads. ‘How will you get there? You don’t even know what you’re looking for.’
‘Something rare and valuable. It must be,’ Ris insists.
‘You remember the first edicts, right?’ Vullis asks, rubbing his chin. Before the edict on gifted children, when the queen’s quest was an honour.’
‘Promises of titles and cosy little seats up in the Bastion for anyone who could succeed,’ Ryla curls their slip.
‘Nothing like that anymore,’ I reflect, bitterly. ‘Now it’s a cursed quest, for the foolhardy. A reprieve from a death sentence.’
Vullis places a hand on my arm, warm and reassuring, knowing that Larkin is on my mind. ‘He wouldn’t want to be remembered that way.’
I jerk my arm away. ‘He forfeited that right when he abandoned his family!’
The room is silent, the echo of my shout hanging in the air. Have I woken Biba? Is she really asleep, or feigning it so she can listen to the adults?
‘And Salvacion has the gall to ask me to follow his footsteps.’
‘She’s trying to help you, in her own way,’ Kopiro says quietly.
My voice is thick in my throat. ‘I know,’ I say.
Her form of aid sits heavy on my skin: an impossible choice to remain and live in fear of the day they come for Biba – or to pursue a fool’s errand and live to hope.
Over the past few weeks, I have felt trapped here with my daughter. Afraid her joy or sorrow may explode. Unpredictable power in soft, untrained hands. I sneak a look at the door.
‘It seems I have become one of those desperate folk. It’s the only way to protect Biba. Her powers are stronger now. She . . . scares me sometimes.’ How can a mother be scared of her own child?
Kopiro places a hand over mine, as if trying to smother my confession. ‘Something is amiss in the world – that’s for sure. You’re not the only one to feel it, Ris.’
‘What do you mean: stronger?’ Ryla asks, tentatively.
‘She is more than touched,’ I whisper through parched lips. ‘I’ve seen her do impossible things. Unholy things.’
‘What kind of things?’ Ryla presses.
‘She can undo death,’ I whisper.
It is as if all the air has left the room. Ryla straightens up; Kopiro grips my hand tighter.
Vullis clears his throat. ‘In that case, maybe the temple is the right place for her.’
I glare at him. ‘How can a place that snatches children from their families be right?’
‘She could learn to control her powers,’ Vullis pleads. ‘I know you’re trying your best to teach her, Ris – but you don’t have the gift.’
‘Are they happy there?’ I ask desperately. ‘We have no idea what goes on there because we never hear from them. No one does. The best I could hope for is that one day I would see her standing on some balcony at the Bastion, next to the royals. Is that what you want?’
Ryla sighs and opens their hands in submission. ‘That’s the thing, Ris. We don’t know. And we don’t know what would happen if she stayed here without guidance.’ After a beat they add, ‘Have you asked Biba what she wants?’
‘Biba is a child,’ I snap. ‘She has no idea what she wants.’
The silence is thick until it becomes so stifling I must crack it. ‘It’s only a matter of time until they come for her. If I had any doubts, tonight has taken them away.’
I look over to the map, to the Winter Isle flung out furthest from the mainland.
They say you can’t see it until you’re practically on land because of the mist that surrounds it, an unsettling haar, which gathers around the temple like a shroud.
They commune with the dead there, living a life detached from the rest of Paranish – one devoid of bonds and community in the traditional way.
They are the Bastion’s obedient servants.
In theory, it is a great honour to be gifted, but try telling this to grieving parents whose child is being stolen in the middle of the night.
Visitors are forbidden at the temple. Once they take them, they are no longer yours. They are theirs.
I swallow hard. ‘Do I have any other choice but to do as the queen asks?’
‘You’ll need to find someone who can read that,’ Vullis begins tentatively.
I can understand a map’s shapes, but it means nothing beyond that.
‘You could try Umasa.’
I blow out air from my cheeks and then cry out as the pain becomes too great.
Ryla pats me on the back as I weep. The broken skin on my face stings, and I examine it through puffy eyes, gently touching my swollen jaw.
I’ve never been a dainty beauty, but it will be a few weeks before I can see what kind of permanent damage Salvacion has done.
‘Salvacion really fucked up my face.’ I try to laugh, then sob again.
‘You look like the wrong end of a sheep,’ Ryla teases, eliciting another painful laugh.
Vullis, ever the host, begins to build a fire. ‘We’ll stay here tonight, Ris. Whatever you need.’
‘Tomorrow, we can make a plan. Tonight, you rest,’ Kopiro gives me a sympathetic look, his eyes gentle and brimming with tears.
‘Thank you,’ I say, holding each of their gazes.
A glint of light in the corner catches my eye. It’s a sliver flash, shining for a moment and then gone. The softest creak of wood I recognise as the bedroom door closing. Another thing to deal with in the morning.
Fuck it, let Biba see. The world is full of violence and broken things, some of them at her own hand. She’s not some frightened little bird I must protect. She is growing up faster than I ever dared to believe.