Seeds of Rebellion
Page 106
“We’re both in our fifth month,” Nia explained. “He’s two weeks older.”
“I come too,” said the heavily scarred man, his accent much thicker.
“He’s Raz, our mentor,” Io explained. “He killed a mangler while unarmed, to save our mother.”
“Tree,” said Ul, holding up three fingers. He pointed at Raz, scowling and clenching a fist, as if to suggest he was tough. Then he held a hand out toward the other two and moved the other hand like a jabbering mouth while rolling his eyes.
“Father!” Nia exclaimed, appalled.
“We sometimes talk too much,” Io apologized.
Ul spat some chattering syllables.
“We must wait until after dark for the boat,” Nia translated. “We should remain here for the present. He will send for some agreeable food.”
After many thanks had been expressed to Ul and his clan, the meeting ended. Nia and Io gravitated toward Corinne, Jason, and Rachel—perhaps because they appeared to be of a similar age. The conversation started slowly and politely, with Rachel and Jason explaining that they were Beyonders and Corinne explaining that she used to live in a swamp.
“You have interesting pasts,” Nia said. “I have never left these hills, though I’ve yearned to see the world.”
“You speak our language well,” Jason said. “Have you had a lot of practice?”
“Chiefly among my people,” Nia said. “Many among us endeavor to keep the tradition alive in the hope of future alliances.”
“We once met a messenger from Kadara who spoke with us,” Io said. “He wanted us to attack the army besieging the city of Highport. Father told him we would send Kadara the same assistance in their hour of need as they sent us when we faced extinction.”
“Afterward, Father told us that if there had been any hope of success, he would have attacked,” Nia said. “Regardless of our past grievances, none of us are pleased to see Kadara fall and the emperor grow stronger.”
“I can’t believe you guys are five months old,” Jason said. “When I was five months old, I was a bald little baby who couldn’t do much more than cry.”
Io chuckled. “Our lives move at a different pace. Our parents begin teaching us the moment we are born. We never sleep. Our minds mature faster along with our bodies.”
“I was less than a month old when my mother discovered my aptitude for English,” Nia said. “It is why I was given such an extravagant name.”
“I was the same,” Io said. “In Ji, two syllables is a very long word.”
“We come from a long-lived line,” Nia explained. “We develop a touch slower, but we live longer than many drinlings. Some of our ancestors survived nearly three years.”
Rachel looked away.
Io touched her shoulder. “That sounds quick to you.”
“A little,” Rachel replied, not wanting to emphasize her discomfort. How unfair for them to live so briefly!
“I have heard that some outside our culture feel this way,” Io said. “You must understand, our lives feel sufficient to us. Does your life feel long enough? Eighty years?”
“Yeah,” she said. “I guess.”
Io smiled. He had a smile like his father. “Yet compare yourself to the Amar Kabal. If you tally their many lives, they could endure a hundred times longer than you. Or more. To them, your life seems fleeting. To you, our lives seem short.”
“To us, all of you live much too long,” Nia joked. “How tedious it must become!”
Rachel forced a smile. “I see what you mean. It’s all relative.” She still felt the wizard who had devised a two-year life span must have been terribly insensitive.
“Besides,” Io said, eyes twinkling, “we have some advantages. We never get ill. And we don’t have to wait for food!” He tore up a clump of weeds, put it in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed.
“No way!” Jason said. “That won’t make you sick?”
“Our bodies consume a lot of energy,” Nia explained. “We need plenty of nourishment.” She shoved a palmful of dirt into her mouth.
Rachel winced. “Doesn’t it taste bad?”
“Not to us,” Io said. “It probably tastes bad to you because your body can’t use it.”
“Don’t you like normal food better?” Jason asked.
“Depends on what you call normal,” Nia said, biting off a portion of a dry twig, clearly enjoying how Jason cringed. Rachel could hear the twig snapping as Nia chewed. “Unlike many other cultures, we never cook our food.”
Io made a disgusted face. “Talk about ruining flavor.”
“The stick doesn’t hurt your teeth?” Corinne asked.
“Our teeth are tough,” Nia assured her.
“Okay, I’m a little jealous,” Jason admitted.
“Just wait a few months until you have to treat us as your elders,” Nia replied.
Rachel laughed along with the others, but the thought still made her a little sad.
CHAPTER 25
THE LAST INN
Jason leaned against the side of the ship, staring out at the rolling swells and the coast beyond, blue with distance. The scent of the salt on the air made him thirsty, and he took a sip from his waterskin. He tried not to think of poor Corinne, huddled at the back of the boat, unable to keep any food down.
After dizzying heights, blasting winds, and murderous zombies, the ocean voyage had been just what he needed to get his equilibrium back. He almost regretted that they would reach their destination tonight. He supposed he was relieved for Corinne’s sake.
For almost a week this boat had represented the only safety he had really known since departing the Seven Vales. Long and narrow, with a dozen oars on each side and a big square sail, the drinling vessel had outpaced a variety of more elaborate ships manned by Kadarians.
Jason had watched the drinlings in awe that first night. A stocky people, they tended to have more muscle than height; they were broad through the shoulders, with long torsos and sturdy legs. They seemed to put all of their power into each stroke, but still found reserves for another and another and another. They didn’t break to rest or to sleep. Only to eat and to drink.
Heaps of black tubers had crowded the boat at the outset of the voyage. Nia had explained that the dense tubers were a favorite among her people, due to their rich nutrients. Inedible to most living things, the rootlike growths flourished beneath the soil among the hills where the drinlings dwelled.
“I come too,” said the heavily scarred man, his accent much thicker.
“He’s Raz, our mentor,” Io explained. “He killed a mangler while unarmed, to save our mother.”
“Tree,” said Ul, holding up three fingers. He pointed at Raz, scowling and clenching a fist, as if to suggest he was tough. Then he held a hand out toward the other two and moved the other hand like a jabbering mouth while rolling his eyes.
“Father!” Nia exclaimed, appalled.
“We sometimes talk too much,” Io apologized.
Ul spat some chattering syllables.
“We must wait until after dark for the boat,” Nia translated. “We should remain here for the present. He will send for some agreeable food.”
After many thanks had been expressed to Ul and his clan, the meeting ended. Nia and Io gravitated toward Corinne, Jason, and Rachel—perhaps because they appeared to be of a similar age. The conversation started slowly and politely, with Rachel and Jason explaining that they were Beyonders and Corinne explaining that she used to live in a swamp.
“You have interesting pasts,” Nia said. “I have never left these hills, though I’ve yearned to see the world.”
“You speak our language well,” Jason said. “Have you had a lot of practice?”
“Chiefly among my people,” Nia said. “Many among us endeavor to keep the tradition alive in the hope of future alliances.”
“We once met a messenger from Kadara who spoke with us,” Io said. “He wanted us to attack the army besieging the city of Highport. Father told him we would send Kadara the same assistance in their hour of need as they sent us when we faced extinction.”
“Afterward, Father told us that if there had been any hope of success, he would have attacked,” Nia said. “Regardless of our past grievances, none of us are pleased to see Kadara fall and the emperor grow stronger.”
“I can’t believe you guys are five months old,” Jason said. “When I was five months old, I was a bald little baby who couldn’t do much more than cry.”
Io chuckled. “Our lives move at a different pace. Our parents begin teaching us the moment we are born. We never sleep. Our minds mature faster along with our bodies.”
“I was less than a month old when my mother discovered my aptitude for English,” Nia said. “It is why I was given such an extravagant name.”
“I was the same,” Io said. “In Ji, two syllables is a very long word.”
“We come from a long-lived line,” Nia explained. “We develop a touch slower, but we live longer than many drinlings. Some of our ancestors survived nearly three years.”
Rachel looked away.
Io touched her shoulder. “That sounds quick to you.”
“A little,” Rachel replied, not wanting to emphasize her discomfort. How unfair for them to live so briefly!
“I have heard that some outside our culture feel this way,” Io said. “You must understand, our lives feel sufficient to us. Does your life feel long enough? Eighty years?”
“Yeah,” she said. “I guess.”
Io smiled. He had a smile like his father. “Yet compare yourself to the Amar Kabal. If you tally their many lives, they could endure a hundred times longer than you. Or more. To them, your life seems fleeting. To you, our lives seem short.”
“To us, all of you live much too long,” Nia joked. “How tedious it must become!”
Rachel forced a smile. “I see what you mean. It’s all relative.” She still felt the wizard who had devised a two-year life span must have been terribly insensitive.
“Besides,” Io said, eyes twinkling, “we have some advantages. We never get ill. And we don’t have to wait for food!” He tore up a clump of weeds, put it in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed.
“No way!” Jason said. “That won’t make you sick?”
“Our bodies consume a lot of energy,” Nia explained. “We need plenty of nourishment.” She shoved a palmful of dirt into her mouth.
Rachel winced. “Doesn’t it taste bad?”
“Not to us,” Io said. “It probably tastes bad to you because your body can’t use it.”
“Don’t you like normal food better?” Jason asked.
“Depends on what you call normal,” Nia said, biting off a portion of a dry twig, clearly enjoying how Jason cringed. Rachel could hear the twig snapping as Nia chewed. “Unlike many other cultures, we never cook our food.”
Io made a disgusted face. “Talk about ruining flavor.”
“The stick doesn’t hurt your teeth?” Corinne asked.
“Our teeth are tough,” Nia assured her.
“Okay, I’m a little jealous,” Jason admitted.
“Just wait a few months until you have to treat us as your elders,” Nia replied.
Rachel laughed along with the others, but the thought still made her a little sad.
CHAPTER 25
THE LAST INN
Jason leaned against the side of the ship, staring out at the rolling swells and the coast beyond, blue with distance. The scent of the salt on the air made him thirsty, and he took a sip from his waterskin. He tried not to think of poor Corinne, huddled at the back of the boat, unable to keep any food down.
After dizzying heights, blasting winds, and murderous zombies, the ocean voyage had been just what he needed to get his equilibrium back. He almost regretted that they would reach their destination tonight. He supposed he was relieved for Corinne’s sake.
For almost a week this boat had represented the only safety he had really known since departing the Seven Vales. Long and narrow, with a dozen oars on each side and a big square sail, the drinling vessel had outpaced a variety of more elaborate ships manned by Kadarians.
Jason had watched the drinlings in awe that first night. A stocky people, they tended to have more muscle than height; they were broad through the shoulders, with long torsos and sturdy legs. They seemed to put all of their power into each stroke, but still found reserves for another and another and another. They didn’t break to rest or to sleep. Only to eat and to drink.
Heaps of black tubers had crowded the boat at the outset of the voyage. Nia had explained that the dense tubers were a favorite among her people, due to their rich nutrients. Inedible to most living things, the rootlike growths flourished beneath the soil among the hills where the drinlings dwelled.
