Jay Lake - Green

“… not so much a fool,” the Temple Mother was saying. “Even our youngest aspirants would know better than to think the Goddess meant our troubles were literally coiled within this one’s heart like worms in a dog.”

“It is a clean solution,” the woman called back down. “And does not turn against the word of the Goddess.”

“Do not be stupid,” I called out, surprising myself.

The Temple Mother gave me an angry look.

“We are in convocation,” I told her. “Surely I am given right to speak.”

“You are not vowed or sworn,” she said. “Even so, the Goddess called you by name, so you stand tall in Her sight. Speak if you must.”

I stood and stepped to the center of the sacred circle. Turning around, I saw a knot of women in justiciary robes. One of them had loudly called for my friend’s death.

“You insult our intelligence,” I said, “and betray the clear intent of the Goddess. My oldest and greatest friend has crossed the Storm Sea to bring me word of a disaster in the north. The Lily Goddess has joined Her voice to this foreign news to ask that we return there. The Dancing Mistress holds close some deed or choice or hope or love that will play a part in the unfolding of this.”

“There is no argument here.” The Temple Mother looked around. “We have been given as clear a directive as has crossed this altar in my lifetime. There will be no appeasement of the Bittern Court. There will be no killing of this stranger.” Her gaze settled on me. “You have been banished from the shores of Selistan. From these shores you are being cast.”

She then gave her orders to Mother Vajpai. “Wrap them both in beggars’ robes and march them to the Avenue of Ships. There you will throw them into the sea, with three handles of Blade archers to see that they do not return to Kalimpura. If either of them sets hand or foot back on land, pierce it with an arrow.”

Mother Vajpai bowed her head. “So it shall be done, Mother.”

“This is the will of the Goddess,” the Temple Mother called out.

The answer echoed in a mix of voices almost as loud as the Goddess’ voice had been: “This is the will of the Goddess.”

I had never seen such a run. As crowded as this city ever was, almost forty women with weapons in their hands and murder in their eyes cleared a path through which you could have driven an elephant. A knot of toughs in Bittern Court colors were shoved back just in front of the Blood Fountain, and I saw a great many disappointed Street Guild men as well.

We moved through the late afternoon like the blackest, most dangerous festival processional. Blades and prisoners swept down Jaimurti Street toward the Avenue of Ships. People scattered, but followed to see what the fuss was. Everything on the streets of Kalimpura was a show for someone.

I watched children racing along, the little cutpurses and beggars. How many of them had been sold already? How many would live long enough to grow into their lives? How many was I leaving behind?

“Green.”

I looked over at the Dancing Mistress and found my eyes full of tears.

“This is change, not death,” she said. “The path remains open before you.”

Then we spilled out onto the docks. Mother Vajpai was taken up onto the shoulders of Mother Adhiti. She stood there-a trick of balance I’d shown her, I realized with a strange, quirky pride-scanning the waterfront. A crowd gathered around us, ringing my escort of Blades with shouting faces. Someone tossed a rotten fish over the heads of the Blades. As I did not dare raise my hands to block the missile, it struck me with a wet, stinking slap.

Mother Vajpai jumped down and, using our battle code, called for fighting as needed but to cause no deaths. She then pointed east, curiously enough toward Arvani’s Pier. We hustled along as fruit, fish, and stones began to shower down. The women did not strike back, though they could have. Riot was unfolding in our wake.

I saw the purpose in Mother Vajpai’s plan quickly enough. The Blades took the base of the pier, where it met the waterfront, pushing the Dancing Mistress and me out onto the tongue of stone. A single handle scrambled ahead, forcing anyone working there up the gangplanks of the moored ships and effectively clearing our path.

“You will leap from the end.” Mother Vajpai pointed. “The Blades will stand over you as directed, but there you will be free of thrown cobblestones.”

“Thank you,” I said, though it seemed foolish.

“I suggest you speak quickly to whatever captain will listen first as you swim alongside.” Her face clouded. “I should hate to have you killed.”

“So would I.”

The Dancing Mistress took my hand. The sense of Mother Vajpai’s words must have been clear enough.

Followed by twelve archers, all women I knew, and some of them women I had been very close to indeed, the Dancing Mistress and I walked to the end of the dock. The rails of the dozen ships we passed were crowded with sailors, longshoremen, and idlers being harangued by panicked pursers and mates. The onlookers were all too busy laughing and jeering in the dozens of languages of the sea.

This show would be remembered in the taverns for years to come. I waved broadly, pretending a bravery I did not have.

Then we were at the end of the pier, and the women were driving us forward at arrow point without breaking stride. I went into the ocean with my teacher beside me, wondering if we would come up whole and how many dead-eyed monsters awaited us here.

Returning Once More

S OMEHOW I took in a mouthful of harbor water. It was foul-not just the throat-closing saltiness of the sea, but a mix of stagnation and bilge and whatever had flowed out of the bottom of Kalimpura as well. I found the surface and kicked hard to keep my head and shoulders in the air, spitting the whole time.

The Dancing Mistress struggled, though the tide was slack and there was almost no chop. I launched myself into her and tried to buoy her up. “Breathe!” I shouted in Petraean. “And do not thrash so!”

She calmed a bit. I tugged at her as I kicked in a backstroke toward the footing of the pier. Up along the top, I could see Mother Vajpai frowning at me. She was surrounded by drawn bows.

Time for a better plan, I thought. A ship was moored to the left, in the last tieup along Arvani’s Pier. She was a low, wide, open-topped coastal trader, in truth an overgrown longboat. Half a dozen Selistani men lounged at the taffrail. They stared as they passed a pipe.

The Dancing Mistress’ struggles slackened. Dragging her with me, I grasped hold of the ship’s rudder for support.

“Here,” I said to her, “hold on to this chain.”

“You there,” one of the men called down in Seliu. He spoke with a thick Bhopurti accent. “Hands off. You might break something.”

They all laughed at this wonderful joke. An arrow shot right in front of them to splash in the water beyond. The men and I looked at the pier to see Mother Vajpai there, shaking her head. Mother Gita winked at me.

So it truly was not the Blades’ desire that I die today. I drew some small comfort from this prospect. Even in the heat of the afternoon, I was shivering. The water wasn’t cold, but I was. The Dancing Mistress’ condition grew worse, shaking and coughing. I’d never before seen her frightened.

“Man, bring us aboard,” I said in my best imitation Bhopurti accent. Hiding the Stone Coast in my speech had been harder.

The leader glanced at the array of bowwomen, then back at me. His laughter was gone. “You are a danger, little boy.”

I had to get out of the water. “I am far more than a danger. I am an opportunity.”

“For what?”

“Bring us aboard, and I shall tell you.”