Search: A Novel of Forbidden History by Judith Reeves-Stevens, Garfield Reeves-Stevens

Island.”
    Hamilkir knew what his next question had to be. “Then we’re to build new ones that can?”
    “We must. I’ve brought the knowledge.”
    “We have it here as well.” The knowledge of the bridge ships was safely preserved on the stone altar in the outpost’s Chamber of Heaven, along with the eleven other gifts.
    “Do you have the workers?”
    “Yes. And the forests.”
    Rutheme clicked again. On her ship, both rows of oars were being set in motion to maneuver it to port. The wind was too strong to risk the sails, and they’d been struck.
    Hamilkir saw beyond the reason for her questions. “You no longer have those resources at Ehschay.”
    “We’ve had to turn the library into a fortress.” Rutheme wrinkled her forehead in confusion. “We’ve given them everything. Yet they attack us. Do they not do that here?”
    “A few ambushes out past the farmlands. It’s more a question of differences between the hunters in the forests and those we’ve taught to farm.” Hamilkir knew there would likely be more ambushes in the time to come as logging operations expanded for the new ships suited for the voyage home.
    The
ahkwila
here believed the oak forests held special properties that Hamilkir had not seen demonstrated, and so could not accept. For, if an unseen force could produce no consistent effect, in the way that channeled lighting could always attract certain metals, then the force wasn’t simply unseen, it wasn’t real. The people of the oak, however, had yet to grasp that basic understanding of the world and its workings: that a thing was a known fact, or it was not.
    Rutheme glanced at the
ahkwila
standing together, waiting for her ship to reach the dock so they could moor it. She dropped her voice as if she feared that one among them might understand her language. “Do you feel safe here?”
    “I do. We’re making a difference. The oak people honor the library.”
    “Then they’re different here. Different from all the others.”
    All the others.
Hamilkir was afraid to ask her what she knew about the other outposts. Though, in time, he knew he must.

    That night, the storm raged and lightning flashed. This time, though, it wasn’t captured in the rods of iron to be stored in glass jars and slurries of iron filings. Instead, the scholars and apprentices of Kassiterithes gathered in the great hall for theevening meal. Not for companionship—the
khai
had little need of that—but to hear the story of the crossing of the dark sea.
    It had been uneventful. For three days of the crossing, the winds had slowed, so the rowers had toiled: Bridge ships were never becalmed. Most importantly, the star paths remained true. When land had been sighted on the seventy-second day, the watchtowers of Hamilkir’s outpost had been easily seen through the lenses of the distant eye. Rutheme’s wayfinding had been that precise, even on a voyage that she, and her
khai
rower, Torhiram, had never made before.
    After the formal stories had been told and reports given, the visitors mixed among their fellow scholars to ask and answer questions. Rutheme and Torhiram shared Hamilkir’s table, but the conversation was strained.
    Hamilkir was puzzled when he realized the cause of the unusual tension: the presence of his
ahkwila
concubine, Brighid. True, at first sight, she could seem alarmingly pale, the straw color of her braided hair indicative of disease had she been
khai
. Even so, he had learned that, like all creatures, different
ahkwila
took on forms and coloration specific to their different regions. This was a known fact, and easily adjusted to.
    Instead of her appearance, then, Hamilkir wondered if it might be his concubine’s knowledge that caused his guests’ concern. He had seen the flicker of surprise in both Rutheme and Torhiram as Brighid had greeted them in their own tongue. Yet why would anyone be troubled by evidence of knowledge shared?
    Finally, he thought he saw the answer in Rutheme’s eyes.