“That’s it. It’s done.” She kept her head bent over the ashes.
“That’s it ?” Rashid asked. “That was the whole ceremony?”
“That’s all it had to be,” Leeta replied. Her voice sounded choked; for some reason, I worried she was angry at me.
“But nothing happened!” Rashid protested loudly.
“Things happened,” Leeta answered, still not looking at anyone. “You can’t put two people together without things happening. Maybe folks on the outside can’t see the change, but it’s real. When you’re quiet and tired enough, you stop posing and you stop worrying. For a few seconds, you aren’t trying to be something other than what you are; for a few seconds, two people are real, and balanced. Me and the boy, Mistress Night and Master Day. Then, of course, we go back to posing again, because reality is terrifying; but we made the balance, and we made the difference.”
At that moment, I admired her: her faith. She was clearly embarrassed to defend the ritual in front of Rashid—Leeta probably knew about rotations, revolutions and axial tilts too—yet she’d come out here to dance anyway, because that’s what a priestess did. The only magic in the entire universe might be inside her own head; but that could be enough.
Maybe it had to be enough.
Rashid opened his mouth to ask another question, to dissect the moment, to explore our quaintly absurd “superstitions”…but he was interrupted by an arrow speeding out of the darkness and an explosion of violet flame.
FIVE
A Bribe for Bonnakkut
A second arrow followed on the nock of the first and this time I had a better glimpse of what happened. The arrow shot straight for Rashid’s unhelmeted skull; but before it penetrated his temple, the arrowhead struck an invisible barrier and vaporized in a crackling burst of violet light. That arrowhead was made of flint, flint which blazed like straw falling into a blacksmith’s forge…and the flame burned so hot, it incinerated the arrow’s shaft and fletching with the same gout of fire. The flash left an afterimage of purple streaked across my vision, but in the ensuing darkness, I could blearily see a violet outline surrounding Rashid from head to toe.
The outline extended around Steck, still cuddled against Rashid’s knee.
Another arrow brought another eye-watering explosion as the barb struck the violet fringe…and it occurred to me, Leeta and I should hightail it out of the target area before we regretted not having violet fringes of our own. I looked around for Leeta, intending to shield her with my body as we crawled away—it’s a man’s duty to safeguard the women of his village. Leeta, however, had already scurried into the darkness on her own initiative; so instead of making a strategic withdrawal as the heroic protector of a vulnerable woman, I scuttled into the bushes like a raccoon caught stealing garbage.
I found a place to crouch behind a bigger-than-average birch and waited as a flurry of violet flashes speckled the blackness. How many archers were out there? Probably the whole Warriors Society. Cappie must have dragged them out of their beds when she got back to town, and they’d followed Steck’s heavy-booted tracks from the marsh to this clearing. The first few arrows were aimed at Rashid, so Cappie must have told the men about his stink-smoke weapon; now the shots split half and half between knight and Neut, trying to pierce the violet barrier that shielded the two.
“Is this really necessary?” Rashid called over the crack and sizzle of arrows burning. “My force field was designed by some very smart beings in the League of Peoples. Unless you’re carrying laser rifles or gas bombs, you don’t have a chance of touching us.”
As far as I could see, he was right: the barrage was a waste of arrows. Then again, men of the Warriors Society weren’t famous for developing new strategies. If something didn’t fall down when they hit it with a stick, they’d try
“That’s it ?” Rashid asked. “That was the whole ceremony?”
“That’s all it had to be,” Leeta replied. Her voice sounded choked; for some reason, I worried she was angry at me.
“But nothing happened!” Rashid protested loudly.
“Things happened,” Leeta answered, still not looking at anyone. “You can’t put two people together without things happening. Maybe folks on the outside can’t see the change, but it’s real. When you’re quiet and tired enough, you stop posing and you stop worrying. For a few seconds, you aren’t trying to be something other than what you are; for a few seconds, two people are real, and balanced. Me and the boy, Mistress Night and Master Day. Then, of course, we go back to posing again, because reality is terrifying; but we made the balance, and we made the difference.”
At that moment, I admired her: her faith. She was clearly embarrassed to defend the ritual in front of Rashid—Leeta probably knew about rotations, revolutions and axial tilts too—yet she’d come out here to dance anyway, because that’s what a priestess did. The only magic in the entire universe might be inside her own head; but that could be enough.
Maybe it had to be enough.
Rashid opened his mouth to ask another question, to dissect the moment, to explore our quaintly absurd “superstitions”…but he was interrupted by an arrow speeding out of the darkness and an explosion of violet flame.
FIVE
A Bribe for Bonnakkut
A second arrow followed on the nock of the first and this time I had a better glimpse of what happened. The arrow shot straight for Rashid’s unhelmeted skull; but before it penetrated his temple, the arrowhead struck an invisible barrier and vaporized in a crackling burst of violet light. That arrowhead was made of flint, flint which blazed like straw falling into a blacksmith’s forge…and the flame burned so hot, it incinerated the arrow’s shaft and fletching with the same gout of fire. The flash left an afterimage of purple streaked across my vision, but in the ensuing darkness, I could blearily see a violet outline surrounding Rashid from head to toe.
The outline extended around Steck, still cuddled against Rashid’s knee.
Another arrow brought another eye-watering explosion as the barb struck the violet fringe…and it occurred to me, Leeta and I should hightail it out of the target area before we regretted not having violet fringes of our own. I looked around for Leeta, intending to shield her with my body as we crawled away—it’s a man’s duty to safeguard the women of his village. Leeta, however, had already scurried into the darkness on her own initiative; so instead of making a strategic withdrawal as the heroic protector of a vulnerable woman, I scuttled into the bushes like a raccoon caught stealing garbage.
I found a place to crouch behind a bigger-than-average birch and waited as a flurry of violet flashes speckled the blackness. How many archers were out there? Probably the whole Warriors Society. Cappie must have dragged them out of their beds when she got back to town, and they’d followed Steck’s heavy-booted tracks from the marsh to this clearing. The first few arrows were aimed at Rashid, so Cappie must have told the men about his stink-smoke weapon; now the shots split half and half between knight and Neut, trying to pierce the violet barrier that shielded the two.
“Is this really necessary?” Rashid called over the crack and sizzle of arrows burning. “My force field was designed by some very smart beings in the League of Peoples. Unless you’re carrying laser rifles or gas bombs, you don’t have a chance of touching us.”
As far as I could see, he was right: the barrage was a waste of arrows. Then again, men of the Warriors Society weren’t famous for developing new strategies. If something didn’t fall down when they hit it with a stick, they’d try
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