Beneath the Thirteen Moons (5 page)

“Do you See it?” she asked him, knowing that he’d taken more zabba than her, hoping her own Sight proved wrong.

But he shook his head. “I can barely make out the water, much less See anything in it.” His brows drew together and he shrugged. “I don’t understand it, it’s like I’m in some kind of foreign land. I can’t See the Patterns clearly and when I do they won’t rearrange the way I want them to.”

The boat rocked again, this time with enough force that they both squatted and grabbed a side of the hull.

“You have to use their nature when you Push, not bend them to your will. The swamps are young and vital.” Mahri heard several “plops” around the boat. “It’s not like the tame city that you’re used to.”

Korl flushed. “I didn’t think it’d be this different.”

“And I don’t have time to give you lessons. Give me my pouch, Korl.”

He shook his head, that golden hair catching the dying rays of the sun and throwing glints of light at her. “You can’t push your tolerance this far. The next piece of root may be your last.” He turned and began to paddle furiously. “Pole, water-rat!”

Mahri flicked her wrist and the bone retracted. “I can’t pole, Korl. Don’t you get it? The water here is open straight down to the bottomless sea.” The boat suddenly shot straight up, plummeted so quickly she felt her stomach in her throat. “This creature’s huge, straight from the deep, come up for a snack of petals. The swamps don’t have all the thick, woven roots of the city trees. Sea beasts can break through them. Give me the pouch!”

Her craft near tipped over.

He quit paddling, turned to face her, his hand hovering near the pouch. Then his brows rose, his mouth dropped open, and Mahri felt a wet sticky rope wrap around her neck. Jaja lay trapped within that noose also, squashed against her ear, grunting with the effort of breathing. She tried to scream, only issued a strangled grunt before her feet left the deck, her bone staff falling from nerveless fingers. She hung in the air, her feet dangling a man’s height above the deck, scrabbled at the slimy thing that choked her but couldn’t break its hold.

Korl lunged for her legs and she tried to kick him away. By-the-moons he’s doing it again, she thought. Reacting before thinking about the risk to himself. Korl caught her legs, tried to pull her down, nearly hanging her for good in the process. She held on to the sticky thing, her bones cracking from the weight of the man as the monster flung her higher, then pulled her down into the water with a loud splash.

Prince Korl held onto her legs with stubborn strength.

Mahri closed her lids on the swirl of white petals, used the Power to See instead. Not enough root, and she’d have to use most of it to hang onto consciousness
for lack of air, but in her panic she Saw clearly their destination, the black mouth-slits that the beast stuffed the petals into. That they’d be stuffed into.

It’s a tongue, she realized. That’s what’s wrapped around my neck and it’s bringing us to the beast’s mouths. She could See thousands of the slimy things, wiggling through the water’s Pattern. Think, think.

The water roared past her ears.

Tongues are sensitive, she thought. Well, at least human ones are, but Korl had her bone knife because he had her belt. And the surface of this thing felt tough as mosk-leather.

Suddenly the drag stopped, her ears rang in the silence as the creature’s tongue hesitated for a moment.

Perhaps he’s full, wondered Mahri with maniacal hope. The lack of oxygen’s making me giddy. And what’s that Royal doing anyway?

He crept up her body, hugging her closely, never releasing more than one hand at a time from his hold on her. She’d be covered with finger-bruises.

He locked his legs around her waist when he reached it, his hands finally letting go of that punishing grip. Mahri’s eyes flew open. Through the darkness she could make out the pale strands of his hair waving like grass in the wind, the fist of his hand around her knife as it plunged forward. The tongue jerked down again and Korl flew backward, his legs like a vise around her waist, holding on, then they were flung in the opposite direction and he slammed into her body.

Mahri’s grip slackened. Too much, all this squeezing and pummeling. Her lids drifted down, she reached out
almost lazily with the Power and the most amazing thing happened. She Touched the beast, not just the Pattern of its body but that of its mind. Like the native, she thought, in my dream.
And maybe this is a dream, so why not let us go, sea beast? Dreams are too insubstantial to make a good dinner
.

And she drifted free, only the arms of Korl now held her, pushed her back to the surface of the water, dragged her into the boat and forced the water from her lungs. Mahri breathed in the perfume of bruised petals and wondered if she still dreamt.

“Jaja?” she whispered from a throat too painful to be anything but reality. No chattering reply and she opened her lids to see Korl searching the boat.

“Where?” he asked, then cursed one of Mahri’s favorite words and flinched in self-disgust. “You are a bad influence, water-rat.” He stood, swayed just a moment, and dove over the side of the boat.

He took my pouch with him, thought Mahri, too tired to be angry, unaware that she’d even fallen asleep until the splash of rain in her face woke her up. How long had she been out? Moonlight glowed inside her empty boat and the feeling she had in her chest made her want to scream beneath the weight of it.

“Korl!” Silence. She didn’t notice her tears that mingled with the rain. “Jaja!”

A tiny squeak of acknowledgment. She let out a ragged breath, saw the fingers that clutched the edge of her craft and crawled over to where Korl’s body floated in the water, his pale hair haloed around his head. Jaja tried to squirm out of his arm but the man held him with the same frozen grip he had on the boat.

“Prince Korl, let Jaja go.” He didn’t answer her, seemed to be in some kind of stupor. How long had he been floating there, anyway? She tried to peel away his fingers, gave up and jumped into the water next to him. She could still hear the plops of those feeding tongues amid the patter of rain and hurriedly untied her belt from around Korl’s waist.

Mahri had to swim to the other side of the boat so that it wouldn’t tip over when she climbed in, barely escaped another seeking tongue and swore under her breath. She opened the fish-scale pouch and selected a large piece of the zabba and eagerly chewed it, gagged, shuddered, amazed at how the Power now flew through her system.

It seemed that the coma had changed her in more ways than one. Her pathways seemed enlarged, able to let greater Power flow through her. She could still remember the pain when she’d had her first bite of zabba, when the poison had forged the beginnings of small pathways to her brain. She’d thought she hadn’t the immunity to the poison, that she might die like so many others who’d tried the root. Instead, after that first initial agony, she’d felt the changes in her head, the chemical reaction that allowed her to really See the world around her.

The overdose of root had felt the same. Only now her pathways had enlarged and Mahri Saw things that she didn’t know anyone was capable of Seeing. Like other minds.

She repressed a shudder of terror for the unknown, and with the ease of long practice, banished the unwelcome speculations of her altered condition from her thoughts.

Mahri tied the belt around her waist, more confident with its familiar weight around her, and retrieved her bone staff. Saw into the water, Pushed it under Korl and hauled him aboard. She managed to release Jaja from his clutches and between the two of them, dragged the prince into the narwhal tent. Then she carefully Saw into Korl.

He’s only tired, she decided. And assured of his recovery she roiled the water and propelled her boat through the clogged channel, wondering about how much easier it seemed, the Power in her system barely tapped by the Seeing.

When they emerged from the flower-tunnel the channel narrowed; the now unhindered rain flooded the half of her boat not protected by the tent. Mahri bailed, continued to Push the current, and sang the bawdiest chanty she knew. The downpour shrank to a light mist and as she reached for the pouch again a pale head emerged from the tent.

“Food,” the prince demanded. “Water.”

She had Jaja fetch her journey sack while she reached for more root, stilled when he spoke again. “Another of the dangers from zabba is that it kills your appetite—and eventually you. From starvation. Eat, Mahri.”

So they sat together and ate by the glow of the moons, and drank fresh rainwater from the buckets attached to the boat for that purpose.

“That’s the second time,” she said, noting the damp and tattered condition of his clothes, “that you’ve rescued my monk-fish. You don’t need him to get home. So why’d you do it?”

Korl frowned, his face all soft angles in the moonlight, and answered without hesitation. “Why wouldn’t I?”

And Mahri knew then that he was a dangerous man, that she’d have to be very careful. He was of that rare breed that not only seduced the body, but also the heart.

M
AHRI CONTINUED TO
S
EE INTO THE CURRENT AT
occasional intervals, to nudge it along, make sure they followed the water’s path and protect her boat from any obstructions. Before the coma, that would’ve taken all of her concentration, and she tried not to wonder at her capacity for the Power now.

She’d never heard of anyone surviving a zabba-wrought coma, although many had taken the root to their death. Some were more immune than others, Wildings like herself, and of course the Royals—that carefully cultivated line of heredity. Most had such a low tolerance level that they could See into the nature of things but not Push or Alter them; some could do small magics, and most would die from even the smallest piece of zabba. So, as Korl would say, what made her so special?

Cool rain misted her face and the interlaced branches above cleared to give her an unobstructed view of the evening sky. Stars glittered like morning dew around the moons, small and bright.

Could her dream have had some truth? Did her people come from the sky and settle on this planet like tribal wanderers? And if so, where had her ancestors come from—those twinkling lights or even the moons? How powerful they must’ve been to fly from place to place!

The branches crowded together again and ended her stargazing. She could hear Korl’s gentle snores with an
occasional nasal squeak from Jaja within the tent, the rolling of the water, and the constantly changing song of the forest.

Mahri knew this to be her reality—how it had come to be didn’t matter. Yet, why would she dream such a thing? And if it wasn’t a dream… could the natives have helped her to survive the overdose so that she’d help this prince to rule? And why her—and forget about being the other half of someone’s soul. That had to be nonsense.

Mahri groaned aloud. Her head ached from all this thinking, stupid really, since she didn’t have any answers for anything that had happened to her since she’d kidnapped a prince from his bed. Like why a sensible woman like herself could act so ridiculous over a handsome man. She’d never acted this way around Vissa. He was undeniably attractive; a prosperous tavern keeper who had a charmingly crooked smile and tempting rakish eyes. Mahri acknowledged his appeal, might even have felt herself tempted once or twice, but had never succumbed to his single-minded pursuit of her. She was too level-headed, too independent. She didn’t want to be tied to anyone ever again.

Mahri’s thoughts came to an abrupt halt when she Sensed deep water below. She didn’t like what had come up through it the last time and thank-the-moons she had plenty of root now. She Saw into the water and recoiled from the barrage of colors that exploded in her Sight. She quickly readjusted and blinked at the water with normal vision. And gasped at the wonder of it.

For the water glowed in clouds of multi-colored light, in layers that spiraled down to a depth she couldn’t even guess at. Plankton, she thought, but those of a peculiar
phosphorescence. They didn’t glow with the bright whiteness of a sun slug—those barnacled creatures that lived happily in a light globe—but with a muted rainbow of gleaming sparkles.

A display like none she’d ever witnessed before, Mahri stood in transfixed delight for so long she felt dizzy from the sheer pleasure of it.

This is why I’m a water-rat, she told herself. To live on a boat, not up in the trees, and to be a discoverer of so many of the sea’s treasures. She couldn’t wait to get to the village, to tell Caria of this new phenomenon, to see the delight on her sister-in-life’s face as they racked their minds to name this new…

Mahri shook her head and clenched her fists. If she’s still alive.
If I reach her in time. Brez and Tal’li had counted on me, too. I watched them die and a part of me felt relief that I’d be free again, with only myself to worry about. Ach! Can my selfish need for independence be threatened by even this sister-friend?

“Stop it,” she said through clenched teeth, her hand inching toward her pouch. Mahri dug out a handful of root and bit it with furious determination. She’d never wanted her lifemate and son to die—she’d loved them! And she’d save Caria this time regardless of the cost. The flow of Power made her spasm and slam into the deck with bruising force, her muscles convulsing in sudden uncontrollable jerks.

“Water-rat?” mumbled Korl sleepily, the husky timbre of his voice making her shiver even harder. “What did you do?”

She opened her eyes and the sparks of Power that emitted from them reflected off of Korl’s face, made
him sit back on his heels and shake his head in horror. “Woman, you’ve done it this time.”

Mahri crossed her arms, tried to hold herself together by hugging tightly. “Then don’t let me waste it,” she stammered. Her teeth chattered like it was the cold season, instead of the warm. “Help me up.”

Jaja scampered up her chest, stroked her face with his webbed hand and made a low crooning noise. For just a moment Mahri could swear she heard his thoughts as clearly as she had during her dream:
No, no spirit-friend. Can’t help you with so much Power. Crazy, crazy friend.

“Jaja, I’m not crazy. The only thing that matters is getting to the village in time.”

The monk-fish’s soft brown eyes widened in surprise. He put his tiny black nose close to Mahri’s face.
You hear me thinking to you, spirit-friend?

“Aya,” she breathed, “just like in my dream.”

Her pet splayed his fingers over his face, covering it with webbing.
You shouldna’ be able to. No-no ready, friend.
And it felt as if a wall of black slammed down between them and she could again only sense Jaja’s feelings.

“Help me up,” she repeated to Korl, as he stood staring down at the two of them, his mouth agape, his pale hair agleam in the moonlight.

“You were talking to him,” he said. “I mean, not just you talking to him, but like he was talking to you, too.”

“You’re babbling, Prince.”

With hands that trembled he wiped rainwater from his brow. “It’s not possible. Nobody can See into another mind unless they’re Bonded, nobody can wield the kind of Power you have. I’m going to ask you again
and this time I want a straight answer.” He took a deep, steadying breath. “Who are you?”

Mahri’s head pounded with waves of untapped Power, although thankfully the convulsions had stopped. She was a fool, yes, to take this much root. Her immunity to the poison could only go so far. But she didn’t want to live if she failed her family this time, so it wasn’t the dying that scared her, but the Power-changes that had happened to her since the coma. That they might be permanent, that she’d be this powerful for the rest of her life. The thought frightened her, because with great power came great responsibility and that’s something she’d never purposely seek. “I’m just a water-rat, Prince. And as scared as you are by what’s happening to me. I can’t hear him anymore, if that makes you feel any better.”

He must have read the genuine fear in her face and for some reason that reassured him, because he adopted his superior attitude and raised one pale eyebrow. “Of course, just a temporary anomaly, probably from the accumulation of so much root in your system.”

Reassured by his own superior logic, he bent over and picked her up, set her on her feet. Mahri swayed like the breeze, so the man stood behind her, his chest pressed to her back, his arms wrapped around her to hold her steady. His breath stirred the curls of her dark red hair as he spoke again, as if to himself. “I could do a thesis on this. ‘The Aberrant Affects on Root Overdosage’ by Healer Prince Korl. I like the sound of that.”

Mahri understood about half of what he said as she melted against him. He felt deliciously warm.

“Wait a minute.” He stiffened. “You can’t—you’ve never heard my thoughts, have you?”

“No,” murmured Mahri, her fingers raking through the hair on his arms. “But I’ve heard your body.”

Power whipped through her like bolts of lightning, her every nerve afire, her skin sensitive to the slightest of touches. It made his nearness practically unbearable. All he has to do, she thought, is come near me and I can’t think of anything else but getting closer. I just have to have him—all of him—and then maybe this craziness will stop.

Korl turned her in his arms and impaled her with those mesmerizing eyes. “What do you mean, you can hear my body? Are all Wildings as powerful as you?”

“I don’t need the Power to hear it.” Mahri stared, could see the fear in his face. No, she couldn’t hear his thoughts but she could imagine them well enough. If there were other Wildings like herself hidden in the swamps, what a threat that would be to the Royal line’s dominance. For if they banded together, they’d have a good chance of defeating even the Royal’s numbers, invading the Seer’s Tree, learning the guarded knowledge, allowing access to the root to any that could tolerate it. A Royal’s worst nightmare.

Mahri then knew for certain that she could never let him return home. He’d start a Hunt like the one that had taken her mother; with his tales of her Power, his fears that there could be more like her. But she knew of no other Wildings like herself. It’d taken her years of exposure to the root to attain the level of tolerance she had for it now and most of the zabba she’d eaten this trip belonged to the village. She’d used it because it would save their lives, and although they’d lack for food and warmth in the cold season, at least they’d be alive to see it.

Mahri grimaced. “I know of no other Wildings, and by the time we reach the village even I will probably cease to be. Like you said, Prince, I’m a freak of nature, not likely to be repeated anytime soon. And as for hearing your body,” she snaked her hands down the ridges of his chest, circled them around his waist to his lower back, slowly inched down until they rested on the sloping curve of his bottom. “I hear what any woman would when a man wants her.” And with a brazenness that reflected in her olive-colored eyes she caressed those mounds of muscle, tight beneath their thin layer of silk, pushing them towards her, grinning when she felt his hardened response.

Korl froze. “You’re purposely baiting me.”

“Aya.”

“Do you mind telling me why?”

Because I can’t help it, thought Mahri. Because every time you come within touching distance, I just have to touch. “We of the lower classes,” she replied, “Handle a physical attraction like we do all other things.”

“And that is?” He stepped back, moonlight playing around the tightness of his curled lips, those round eyes narrowed to slits. She’d insulted him, somehow.

Mahri shrugged. “We let it happen. Let it burn itself out, then go back to work.”

“But what if,” he growled, “it doesn’t burn itself out? What if,” and he took a menacing step towards her, “the flame just gets hotter, and you just want more? And more?” His voice lowered to a huskiness that made her blink. He traveled the same path with his hands that she had earlier but cupped her bottom, lifted her off the deck, and with harsh angry movements rubbed her against him.

Undaunted, Mahri wrapped her legs around his back and grinned. “But then you’re talking love, Great Prince, and we both know that between us, it’s an imposs…” She grabbed her head.

“What is it?”

“Hush, let me See.” For although she’d had little difficulty maintaining their passage through the channel with her Power, as if to Push had become as natural as breathing, this new ability to See into the thoughts of creatures demanded her full attention. And she dared not say anything to Korl about it.

Slow thoughts reached her. Contented peace, a wisdom that could be detected but not understood, a language that could be interpreted just barely in her own words.

“A narwhal,” she breathed.

Korl peeled her off his body and spun. “Where? There’s no place big enough for it to be beached.”

Mahri sagged to the deck, her head still held in her hands. She couldn’t tell him that the whale lay far below in deep ocean, too far to See its body but not its thoughts. The only time a narwhal could be seen was when it blew a spout on the open sea, or dying, washed amongst the trees like a mountain of black oil. What would he think if she told him she could hear one of the great beasts? He’d called her a freak and although she’d never admit it the remark had stung.

“No, I meant my tent. My narwhal tent. I need to lay down.”

He looked at her with sudden concern. “A little zabba, Mahri. Let me Heal you, if I can.”

At least it would keep him occupied so she nodded, offered a tiny bit of root and let him See into her while
she communed with the great creature. It swam far down the roots of the trees, sucked up the glowing plankton in a lazy, contented way, made clicking sounds to its brethren. There were more. Mahri shuddered.

“The root’s already taken care of your bumps and bruises,” Korl murmured. “But there’s so much Power in you I can barely See further. There’s—something.” He sat on his heels and shook his head. “You’ve developed new pathways, I’ve never seen anything like it, and I couldn’t mess with them, anyway. Your nerve endings are traumatized—I’ve repaired as best I can, but expect the shakes.”

Mahri barely heard his words, instead she concentrated on pulling away from the creatures below. They knew the leviathans! Those ancient ones that left their bones within the trees. Bones that could only be shaped by the Power, that were stronger than any substance known, that seemed, at times, to retain the life of their owner. She shuddered again. She was an ignorant water-rat. She’d have no connection with such as those, no matter how remote.

Jaja suddenly snatched up her braid and played with the shells in her hair, whipped the dark red rope around and tickled her nose with the bottom strands of it. She looked up and although he scampered playfully, making Korl laugh, she saw the serious looks he threw her way, the question in those alien eyes.

Why can’t I hear you anymore
, she thought at him.
Yet I can hear the narwhal, and even the small pathetic mind of a sea slug.
It’s getting worse, the noise. And I can’t stop the Seeing.
Help me!
And she felt another black wall slam across her mind, this time blocking all
thoughts from her Power. She hadn’t even been aware of the tiny mind flicks of the plankton, the crazed hunger of a night stalker, the slow preponderance of a seastar, the contented thoughts of roosting nightwings. Until they stopped. Mahri breathed a sigh of relief.