Bound by Blood and Sand
Page 70
Already the desert around them was different from the last time they’d faced it. Even after they were far enough from the Well that the rain no longer reached them, the desert had blossomed. Plants seemed to grow out of nowhere, pale grasses digging their way through muddy sands. Every bush and cactus had blossoms, bright against the dunes, purples and yellows and oranges that looked like jewels. The foliage spread in front of them like an overgrown garden. Wild and unkempt, but beautiful.
Jae felt nothing.
This time, they didn’t have to ration water so much, even with only the water skin and satchel between them. There was water to be found in the plants, and even if there wasn’t, there was enough water in the air around them for Jae to call. She could make it rain, if they needed water that badly. So they walked until they were tired, slept and ate and drank, and the next night walked again.
Every step brought them closer to Aredann, but Jae could no longer think of it as home. Home was a cramped, dark room she shared with Tal and Gali. Home was Tal smirking as he handed her a date, smiling as he set a gentle hand on her elbow. Home was her brother, and he was gone.
She almost couldn’t do it. The idea of familiar sights turned wrong because he wasn’t there left her anxious, stomach clenching despite being full and sated. She didn’t know how to face the memories waiting at Aredann, or the years that would follow. It seemed almost easier to turn around, to just wander the desert until she fell.
But she couldn’t squander Tal’s gift. He’d wanted to protect the other Closest, so she’d protect them in his name. Besides, she had Elan to consider. He followed her without question, and she knew he’d follow her out into the desert, too, stay with her until they were both gone, just as he’d followed her out there in the first place.
He wasn’t the same as when she’d first met him. Aredann had sanded off his arrogance and posturing, and the desert had honed him, focused him. He was willing to break the Curse, no longer grudgingly but because it would help everyone. Because it was the right thing to do, even if he had to do it alone. He deserved better than to die because she didn’t care enough to live. She hadn’t been able to save Tal; she wouldn’t fail Elan, too.
It took them longer to reach Aredann than it had to reach the Well, since they were no longer driven by the threat of sunsickness or starvation. They didn’t talk much, just kept moving, falling into step together smoothly.
She felt Aredann the evening before they reached it. Even without other-vision, she could sense life, brighter than the scattered blooms across the desert, and when she really looked, she could see so much more. All of the fields they’d worried about were growing, vital, and plentiful. The reservoir was brimming, and the stream that led directly to the estate house was running high. Yet the town itself seemed empty of people. There were plenty in the fields, but only a few in the estate house and nearly none in the town itself.
When she and Elan arrived at the town’s outskirts, the buildings were all dark and no one peered out through the windows. The road was muddy but not trampled, and no one came out to greet them or curse them. Not until they reached the house itself.
The gate was open, and the yard behind it was wild with dark green grass. A lawn at last. Paths had been beaten across it closer to the house, and as Jae and Elan approached, Lady Shirrad ran out, Gali at her heels.
“Jae!” Shirrad threw herself forward, embracing Jae like a long-lost sister. Jae jerked away, then went still for punishment, a habitual gesture. Shirrad didn’t notice, but Elan must have, because he somehow pulled Shirrad toward him, let her hug him instead. “Blood and bones, you’re alive. I knew you would be. When it started raining, I knew you were alive out there.”
“I don’t see Tal,” Gali said.
Jae stared at her. She’d spoken—in front of Shirrad, a crime under the Curse. She didn’t wince as if she was being punished; she just waited, staring right back at Jae.
Who opened her mouth and said aloud what she told herself a thousand times a day: “Tal is dead.”
Shirrad gasped, and Gali’s face fell, as if she was going to crumple. Jae wanted to reach for Gali, to comfort her somehow, but how could she? Tal was dead, and nothing would make that easier to face.
“You should come inside,” Shirrad finally said, all the enthusiasm gone from her voice. “I think we have a lot to discuss.”
Jae let them lead her inside. They went straight to the kitchen, where a few of the Closest were sitting around a stewing pot. They all stared at Jae and Elan, but Shirrad didn’t shoo them away or order them to serve anything in the dining hall. She just grabbed and filled a bowl, passed it to Jae, and then gave another to Elan, before getting one for herself. Gali did the same, and they sat down at the kitchen table.
“Where is everyone?” Elan asked Shirrad between bites.
“Gone,” Shirrad said. “His Highest”—her voice dripped with disdain—“fled Aredann. He said it was because the second quake meant Aredann was falling down more quickly than he’d anticipated. It wasn’t safe to stay and do things in an orderly fashion. Everyone left immediately—except the Closest and me, my punishment for defying him. Disavowed, and left here to die with Aredann.”
But Aredann wasn’t dying, and Jae’s threat must have scared Elthis into leaving the Closest alive. That meant that Tal’s sacrifice had saved them all from the drought—and even saved Shirrad, who’d helped get Tal out of Aredann, despite the Curse. Though if he’d stayed, maybe he would be here now, abandoned and alive like the rest of them.
Or maybe they’d all be dead, because without a sacrifice, it wouldn’t have rained. The Closest would have died of thirst, even after Elthis had left them alive.
Jae ate a spoonful of stew so she wouldn’t have to speak.
“Everything is different now,” Gali said. “With only us here…” She cast a look at Shirrad, then back at Jae. “We’re all the same now. We work together. Shirrad can’t give us any orders, so we’re free to speak. It’s almost as if we aren’t cursed at all.”
Just like Tal in the desert. With no one around giving orders, what difference did it make if the Closest were cursed to obey? If Gali was sitting and eating with Shirrad, elbow to elbow, then it was her choice. Both of their choices.
“It’s better this way,” Shirrad said. “Now that the reservoir is back, we can stay here forever. There’s plenty for everyone, and we don’t need to worry about the Danardaes or anyone else. We’re safe.”
Jae felt nothing.
This time, they didn’t have to ration water so much, even with only the water skin and satchel between them. There was water to be found in the plants, and even if there wasn’t, there was enough water in the air around them for Jae to call. She could make it rain, if they needed water that badly. So they walked until they were tired, slept and ate and drank, and the next night walked again.
Every step brought them closer to Aredann, but Jae could no longer think of it as home. Home was a cramped, dark room she shared with Tal and Gali. Home was Tal smirking as he handed her a date, smiling as he set a gentle hand on her elbow. Home was her brother, and he was gone.
She almost couldn’t do it. The idea of familiar sights turned wrong because he wasn’t there left her anxious, stomach clenching despite being full and sated. She didn’t know how to face the memories waiting at Aredann, or the years that would follow. It seemed almost easier to turn around, to just wander the desert until she fell.
But she couldn’t squander Tal’s gift. He’d wanted to protect the other Closest, so she’d protect them in his name. Besides, she had Elan to consider. He followed her without question, and she knew he’d follow her out into the desert, too, stay with her until they were both gone, just as he’d followed her out there in the first place.
He wasn’t the same as when she’d first met him. Aredann had sanded off his arrogance and posturing, and the desert had honed him, focused him. He was willing to break the Curse, no longer grudgingly but because it would help everyone. Because it was the right thing to do, even if he had to do it alone. He deserved better than to die because she didn’t care enough to live. She hadn’t been able to save Tal; she wouldn’t fail Elan, too.
It took them longer to reach Aredann than it had to reach the Well, since they were no longer driven by the threat of sunsickness or starvation. They didn’t talk much, just kept moving, falling into step together smoothly.
She felt Aredann the evening before they reached it. Even without other-vision, she could sense life, brighter than the scattered blooms across the desert, and when she really looked, she could see so much more. All of the fields they’d worried about were growing, vital, and plentiful. The reservoir was brimming, and the stream that led directly to the estate house was running high. Yet the town itself seemed empty of people. There were plenty in the fields, but only a few in the estate house and nearly none in the town itself.
When she and Elan arrived at the town’s outskirts, the buildings were all dark and no one peered out through the windows. The road was muddy but not trampled, and no one came out to greet them or curse them. Not until they reached the house itself.
The gate was open, and the yard behind it was wild with dark green grass. A lawn at last. Paths had been beaten across it closer to the house, and as Jae and Elan approached, Lady Shirrad ran out, Gali at her heels.
“Jae!” Shirrad threw herself forward, embracing Jae like a long-lost sister. Jae jerked away, then went still for punishment, a habitual gesture. Shirrad didn’t notice, but Elan must have, because he somehow pulled Shirrad toward him, let her hug him instead. “Blood and bones, you’re alive. I knew you would be. When it started raining, I knew you were alive out there.”
“I don’t see Tal,” Gali said.
Jae stared at her. She’d spoken—in front of Shirrad, a crime under the Curse. She didn’t wince as if she was being punished; she just waited, staring right back at Jae.
Who opened her mouth and said aloud what she told herself a thousand times a day: “Tal is dead.”
Shirrad gasped, and Gali’s face fell, as if she was going to crumple. Jae wanted to reach for Gali, to comfort her somehow, but how could she? Tal was dead, and nothing would make that easier to face.
“You should come inside,” Shirrad finally said, all the enthusiasm gone from her voice. “I think we have a lot to discuss.”
Jae let them lead her inside. They went straight to the kitchen, where a few of the Closest were sitting around a stewing pot. They all stared at Jae and Elan, but Shirrad didn’t shoo them away or order them to serve anything in the dining hall. She just grabbed and filled a bowl, passed it to Jae, and then gave another to Elan, before getting one for herself. Gali did the same, and they sat down at the kitchen table.
“Where is everyone?” Elan asked Shirrad between bites.
“Gone,” Shirrad said. “His Highest”—her voice dripped with disdain—“fled Aredann. He said it was because the second quake meant Aredann was falling down more quickly than he’d anticipated. It wasn’t safe to stay and do things in an orderly fashion. Everyone left immediately—except the Closest and me, my punishment for defying him. Disavowed, and left here to die with Aredann.”
But Aredann wasn’t dying, and Jae’s threat must have scared Elthis into leaving the Closest alive. That meant that Tal’s sacrifice had saved them all from the drought—and even saved Shirrad, who’d helped get Tal out of Aredann, despite the Curse. Though if he’d stayed, maybe he would be here now, abandoned and alive like the rest of them.
Or maybe they’d all be dead, because without a sacrifice, it wouldn’t have rained. The Closest would have died of thirst, even after Elthis had left them alive.
Jae ate a spoonful of stew so she wouldn’t have to speak.
“Everything is different now,” Gali said. “With only us here…” She cast a look at Shirrad, then back at Jae. “We’re all the same now. We work together. Shirrad can’t give us any orders, so we’re free to speak. It’s almost as if we aren’t cursed at all.”
Just like Tal in the desert. With no one around giving orders, what difference did it make if the Closest were cursed to obey? If Gali was sitting and eating with Shirrad, elbow to elbow, then it was her choice. Both of their choices.
“It’s better this way,” Shirrad said. “Now that the reservoir is back, we can stay here forever. There’s plenty for everyone, and we don’t need to worry about the Danardaes or anyone else. We’re safe.”
