Jamassein was large. She topped Raelene by a head, her shoulders and arms made Mick’s look puny, her hair was a giant puffball, she had a lot of glossy black skin showing, a bright red wrap, a kilo of silver bangles, a booming laugh and a direct manner. Raelene liked her at once, but was wary of a back-slap that might break her spine.
“So this is our little world-walker, eh?” She held Raelene at arm’s length and inspected her up and down. “Could be one of ours. Sure you’re not from Brafa?”
“Afraid not. I don’t even know where Brafa is. I’m from Pallama, and I’m Wiradjuri.”
Jamassein let out a great laugh and gave her a light thump on the arm. “Good for you. The midgling here tells me you might be of some use, if only we can find out what. Let’s start with the fingers.”
Jamassein had brought a small barrel, made of staves of dark wood banded with copper. She set this on the table, whipped a length of black cloth over Raelene’s eyes and told her to put her hands inside and report what she felt. Raelene’s major feeling was nervous embarrassment, but she complied. Her hands felt as if plunged into cool water, then met something solid and scaly. It twisted away and she jerked back. “Nothing in there can hurt you,” came Jamassein’s voice, close by. Raelene trusted Jamassein and pushed her hands back. A ribbon of softness flowed through her fingers, then a warm dryness wrapped around one hand. She reported this, and Jamassein corrected her first instruction. “Tell me not about your hands, but what feelings you have about what touches you.”
Raelene rested her hands in the barrel and let her emotions drift. A cool green reminded her of the river in one of its lazy moods back in Pallama, a dry heat of the baking plains, a thin crackly surface of gum leaves, a hard sticky flatness of the road under her bare feet. She shied away from plastic and harsh metal, let herself linger on dust sifting across her palms. Trees came to mind – the softness of paper-bark, the ridges of iron-bark, the random lines of scribbly-gum. They provoked a range of moods: nostalgia, longing, revulsion, affection, pride, longing… Raelene expressed these as best she could to Jamassein, who listened without comment. At last a touch on the shoulder drew her back. She examined her hands, to find them clean, dry and unmarked.
Raelene now noticed signs carved into the staves, marking the hoops into segments. Jamassein was taking careful note of the colours of the copper bands at different positions. When done she stood considering, glancing between Raelene and the barrel, where the colours were fading back into the copper. “Interesting,” she said finally, and proposed a mug of tea.
Jamassein continued to mull over her notes with tea in hand, long legs propped on the balcony rail. Raelene drank her tea and worried. Had Jamassein found something wrong with her? Was she possessed?
When Jamassein spoke to her, it was only to say “We are going to take a short trip. You will need to change your clothes. Wear boots, trousers and a long-sleeved top that tucks into your belt.” This last was said with emphasis. When Raelene went to her bedroom the desired clothes were laid out on the bed. She picked up the jeans – they had been cleaned, pressed and neatly mended; the knees had been reinforced with soft leather and belt-loops sewn at the waist. Raelene wondered if she should tell the invisible house-servant that some of those rips were meant to be there, had even cost extra.
Jamassein nodded approval when she came back to the balcony. “I will make you weightless, and then fly myself. Keep your hands on my shoulders – that way you will not flop around. Would you like a tether?” A tether sounded like a basic safety precaution, so Raelene was totally in favour.
When they took it it was not with a Superman whoosh but a gentle rise. For all that, it was alarming to glide out over the ocean (and the monsters) unsupported. Jamassein turned into a rising curve around Maerile’s islet home, kept rising as they crossed the narrow strait, and headed inland, still climbing. The forest canopy was an unbroken green below, ridge and hill falling from the heights to the sea. The wind in Raelene’s hair (at Jamassein’s recommendation tied back) was only moderate, of the same strength as when she put her head out of the car window cruising down the main street of Pallama. She raised her head and gasped. There, far away yet distinct, above her eyes, was a line of snow-capped peaks. How high they must be, to stand out so at even this distance. They swept in a great arc, fading away to her right, bending back with the coast to her left. The mountains stood commanding over the land as it descended through hill and moor to the forest below, aloof and pure. Mountains she had seen in films and on television, but the reality was something else again.
Jamassein turned her head, and she caught the flash of her grin. “Pretty good, eh? Those are the Qiam Mountains, and beyond is the Frozen Wild.”
“I’ve never seen the like; it’s all flat where I come from.”
Jamassein banked into a tight circle, Raelene looked down and tightened her grip on the broad shoulders. This was not flying as she had imagined it – that involved wings or some other means of staying aloft. Even if she did not know quite how they worked, they were at least there. Jamassein was just standing in the air, leaning forward, legs un-moving, not even flapping her arms. It was, well, it was unnatural. Also, the treetops were a long way down. Looking across at the mountains did not give the same sensation of being up high. Jamassein swung her legs back and they lost height, still swinging in a slow circuit. “Our best guess is that you entered our world somewhere around here,” Jamassein said. “I’ll go lower, under the trees, after I’ve checked the area.”
To Raelene it was simply a sea of green leaves. Could it have been around here? They had only been flying a short time, but she supposed distances as the magician flew were much shorter than as the girl staggered. Jamassein took off one of her silver bangles and let it go. It fell slowly, circling around in lazy spirals until it vanished into the trees. A short while later it reappeared, circling up to slip back on to Jamassein’s forearm. Jamassein flicked it around and grunted.
“Couple of tree-squid, an owl-cat, a black bear. Worst thing around is a troop of hurler possums, mostly asleep this time of day.”
“Would I be eaten, walking through here?” asked Raelene nervously.
“If you met a dire-cat you would be. But I doubt the land intended you for a meal, so one did not come your way,” was Jamassein’s reply. It was not entirely reassuring. Jamassein drifted down, angled across until she found a gap, slipped through the canopy into the cooler green shade beneath. There was a second layer to be negotiated before they were hovering above the ground. Nothing looked familiar to Raelene. Just leaf litter, tree trunks, ferns and small shrubs, with the odd rock poking up. The same in each direction. Jamassein was dangling another bangle from her smallest finger, and now took them slowly across the forest floor. They wove in and out of the trees, moving quietly as a whisper, feet a metre above the ground. The light was a filtered green, shot through with shafts of gold where the canopy thinned. Birds chattered and screeched above, and Raelene saw a large lizard dart behind a fallen log. After some minutes Jamassein gave a cluck of satisfaction. The bangle had turned on her finger, and now she followed the course it showed. It was luck, or perhaps not just luck, that this area was not much frequented, remarked Jamassein. The trail she had found was very likely Raelene’s. Raelene could not see a trail at all, nor recognise any landmarks.
She did recognise the cleft she had scrambled out of days ago when at last the trail led there. When she pointed to it, Jamassein restored her weight, gravity claimed her and she dropped on to the ground with an oof. A quick scramble and she was looking between the rocks, at dry leaves and twigs. No stairs, no portal to home, or to anywhere else. Jamassein joined her after muttering some Words, to look over her shoulder with glowing blue eyes. Literally glowing – her eyes cast blue light on the lichened stone. Raelene was so fascinated by this that she only let out a small scream when a dry rubbery suckered appendage groped her neck.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Jamassein turned in a flash, forearms poised to strike, then looked up. And grinned! A flustered Raelene was about to demand an explanation when she caught a broad wink from Jemassein. She followed Jemassein’s gaze up, to see a long tentacle dangling from a rubbery sac, itself suspended by other tentacles from an overhanging branch. Two eyes in the sac were rolling around, and then the thing giggled!
“That was a good joke, well-played. My friend will laugh too, when she gets her breath back.” Jamassein’s hand on her shoulder gave a squeeze.
“You think so? You really think so? I’ve been practising on the possums, but they don’t laugh at all,” said the sac in a high-pitched voice.
“Eh, possums … No sense of humour,” returned Jamassein. “I bet the wolves would be rolling on the ground.”
“I’ll give them a try. What about this one?” Out of nowhere a giant fanged shape leapt at them, mouth gaping and claws reaching. Raelene gave another startled shriek; Jamassein barely flinched as the shape passed through them and vanished. The sac clapped its tentacles in glee. “Made you jump!”
Raelene controlled her temper with an effort, gritted her teeth and gave a forced laugh. “The wolves would love that one too,” Jamassein told the sac.
“You think so? I have lots more jokes.”
“I am sure you do. My friend here met some men a few days ago who would really appreciate a good joke like that one. It was just down the river a little way. Did you see them?”
“Down the river? I do not reach so far that way. If you are friends with my little sister here, can I be your friend too?”
“Of course you can. Your little sister has much to learn, so best we are all friends,” said Jamassein in a warm tone.
Raelene frowned? ‘Little sister?’ Octopuses were no relatives of hers. The thing reached down a long tentacle and stroked her face. Raelene did her best not to flinch.
“Just hatched. Lots to learn. Come visit and I’ll show you how to do good jokes, but you can’t have this place. Not yours. Water too quick for you, trees too close. What name do you give the bone and blood people?”
“Err, Raelene,” said Raelene cautiously. This conversation was way over her head. Sister? A place of her own? No, not a ‘place’, but a Place; the word did not mean ownership but belonging, that patch where you and the land were one. But not here, apparently, in this jungle. That suited her; it was not a country where she felt comfortable. The tentacle gave her a playful prod and retreated, the sac hauled up into the tree until lost in the branches.
“That was informative,” remarked Jamassein. “More so than I hoped for. Let’s get back before that spirit calls in the wolves for a tickle session.”
* * * *
Raelene was still quivering a little when they landed back on Maerile’s balcony. The flight had been fast and low, a thrilling whip across the tree-tops, out over the surf and around in a tight curve to a smooth touch down. The exhilaration warred with irritation, confusion and the aftermath of an attack by a tiger, even an illusory one. Jamassein’s sang-froid did not help; Raelene did not feel events like these should be treated as normal. As soon as her feet touched the floor she demanded to know what just happened. Why was an octopus calling her a sister?
“Tree-squid,”replied Jamassein. “They live in the upper branches and eat birds.”
“That does not answer my question,” said Raelene with some asperity.
Jamassein chuckled. “True. Let’s have some tea and a bite. Flying always leaves me hungry. Also, Maerile will want to hear this.”
Perforce Raelene had to wait until they were all settled with tea, fruit and sweet rice-cakes. Jamassein then began.
“First, the spot where Raelene entered our world showed unusual traces. It was not a Power that manifested there, but something deeper, more foundational. World calling to world, if you will, and to a Prime world. Second, it was at the heart of a spirit domain, and a kindly spirit at that. For one thing, it chose to speak through a tree-squid and not a wolf or a dire-cat.”
“Kindly?” cried Raelene indignantly. “It scared me half to death!”
Jamassein dismissed this with a wave. “Believe me, many spirits will do worse than play practical jokes, particularly if they see you as a threat or a rival. Which is the third thing – the spirit called Raelene ‘little sister’. It recognised her as a being connected to the land. Problem is, which land? The spirit spoke of one with less water and fewer trees. All the clues we have point to Dravishi, probably somewhere up north. That’s Imo Miri and Lague territory, and I’m not welcome to either. What we need,” she said to Maerile “is a geographer, or a Lague bone-reader or just someone who can take Raelene on a tour without getting chased by the locals.”
Maerile thoughtfully nibbled a star-fruit, then ran a number of names past Jamassein. Most were dismissed out of hand – ‘too fusty’, ‘lacks the access’, ‘definitely not him’, and there was little enthusiasm for any of the few remaining. Some other ideas were tossed around – could they fly down to one of the Saka ports and ask around? (Chancy) Petition the Skull-Moot? (Too Slow). Enlist some venturers? (Where and Which?).
To Raelene the conversation was very like one of those talks where white fellas from the government decided what to do about a Koori issue. She didn't understand much of what they discussed, but surely she had a right to be included. When she made this point, the pair were immediately apologetic. Maerile put the position succinctly: the land had called Raelene here, and their best guess was it wanted her in northern Dravishi. What the land wanted it would get, so best to go along. The questions was: how to get Raelene to Dravishi safely. Maerile and Kashlei could not go and Jamassein was unwelcome in northern Dravishi.
“If the land wants me there, and went so far as to pull me here, can it not take me the rest of the way?” asked Raelene.
Jamassein made a face. “If Maerile had not intervened, those men would have sold you in Lagash. Maybe to a merchant from Frouan. Who would have been ship-wrecked on the Dravish coast. And so on. The land will get you there, more or less in one piece, but you might not enjoy the trip.”
“What if I stay here, to learn more?” asked Raelene, in a spirit of curiosity.
Jamassein shrugged. “The land gets impatient, and an earthquake topples Maerile’s home into the sea, or a wave plucks you from your bed. The land will have its way.”
Raelene thought of her home, of remorseless drought that left sheep dead in the paddocks and fish gasping in the drying river, of floods that swept away fences and roads and bridges, of heat that killed birds as they flew, of fires so hot that trees blazed up before ever a flame reached them. There too the land would have its way, and cared not for humans. It had not cared for her, but to this land she was special. Special in some way that mattered to the land rather than to her, but special nonetheless.
Unable to think of a solution, Maerile and Jamassein had turned to snacks and white wine. Raelene picked up a finger of thin pastry curled around cheese and parsley, bit into the flaky crust. The pastry melted away, the cheese was sweet and tangy. It would go well with sweet chilli sauce, she reckoned.
“If I was back home, and I needed to go on a trip, I’d ask around my mob. Rels and friends – my people, you know. They’d ask others, and someone would get back to me. So who are my people here?”
That made her hosts scratch their heads. Jamassein confessed that they were not quite sure. Raelene was clearly not a spirit, and did not have the aura of a Power (yes, they had looked). She was human (of course I am! thought Raelene), with some new ability.
“Like doing magic?” asked Raelene. The two laughed – no, doing magic was quite ordinary.
“The thing is,” said Jamassein “that neither of us knows much about this sort of thing. I work on geo-morphological potentials, while Maerile does vegetable sortation.”
“Oh. I don’t know what those are. What about Kashlei?”
“Fibres,” was the answer. “He puts magic into cloth.” That explains the snappy dress, thought Raelene.
“So what do I do?” She meant it as a question about well, what next?
“The land talks to you, and listens to you,” Jamassein told her, taking her aback. Jamassein added “I think,” which rather spoiled the effect.
“The issue is how to get you to that land which wants to talk with you,” put in Maerile, returning to practicalities.
Jamassein took a sip of wine, then sat up. “Raelene has a point. We have been thinking too narrowly. We don’t know of anyone suitable, but others may well. Let’s put the word out.”