Emmy

Emmy sat astride her vaemar, waiting in the moonlight. She petted the beast’s mane and patted his strong neck through his thick, golden fur. The huge feline shifted and whined, pawing the dusty ground. It was as if he could sense the tension within her. The moons loomed high above them, which did nothing for her nerves. Their light bathed the whole encampment in pearlescence, gilding Emmy’s fear along with the twined serpents on her blue leather surcoat. Dato was low, hanging just above her head. We are but small things, she thought as she rubbed circles on the vaemar’s neck.

She turned and looked for her companions, but as yet they had not emerged. Charo and Zecha were dressing in their armor and mail, and Rel was gathering as much as she could into as small a saddlebag as possible. The more normal they looked, the easier they would fool the guards. That meant no huge bags of supplies. Thus, Rel had walked her own vaemar to the rear of the building, for ease of sneaking as much onto it as possible. Only Emmy was ready and waiting, with daggers borrowed from Rel at her waist, trying to settle her mount.

Her mind went back to Krodge’s vaemar, Zesi, from many cycles before. Emmy loved spending time with the gentle and formidable beast, often curling against her soft black belly, escaping from the knives of the outside world. When Zesi died, Emmy was still ungendered. In her youthful innocence, she decided she would never love again. Her heart was utterly broken when they sent Zesi away to be burned.

This beast—Skitter, Rel had called him—didn’t share Zesi’s doe-eyed calm. He tottered on uncertain paws. It was strange for the creature to behave this way, for vaemar were prized for their calm nobility and their steely nerves. Perhaps it was her nervousness that seeped into him. Or perhaps he could tell that something was wrong.

‘Shh, now, shh,’ Emmy cooed. She couldn’t muster up the love she had for Zesi, but cruelty would do nothing to calm this beast.

‘I’m afraid that vaemar is named well,’ Rel said as she padded to Emmy’s side. She rode a muscular, short-coated vaemar, whose fur was dark as the night sky. ‘His name is Skitter and as you can tell, he’s a nervous sort. But you will manage. There’s a lot to be said for a kind word and a gentle hand.’

Emmy nodded. The vaemar whimpered a little more but as Emmy petted and cooed, he settled.

‘The vaemarhands say Skitter cannot be ridden and cannot pull a cart,’ Rel said. ‘That was why they were so willing to part with him when I asked for two vaemar instead of one for this journey. They’re cruel to him, so he will not obey. But he can read your heart. He knows you are kindly.’

Emmy allowed herself a smile as she rubbed Skitter’s neck again and bent to whisper into his ear.

‘Good boy.’

When she straightened again, Rel’s penetrating gaze was on her. Emmy tilted her head back.

‘What?’ she asked. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Despite that healer’s sash, you still look too much a soldier,’ Rel said. ‘Here.’

She detached a cloakpin. The heart-and-eye glimmered in her palm.

‘Put it on,’ she said as she rearranged her now half-loose cloak. ‘You need the mark of tsimi upon you. The sash is not enough.’

Emmy wiped the surface of the little badge with the flat of her thumb before she fixed it to her sash, just over her heart.

‘Thank you,’ she said.

Rel too wore the tsimi emblem and sash over her soldier’s mail shirt and blue tunic. But curiously, her arms were bedecked with hundreds of bracelets of many materials Emmy had never seen before. There were leather and cloth ones and rings of every metal Emmy could name—and more she couldn’t. Rel’s ears were newly dotted with piercings of stone. There was even a stud under her lip Emmy hadn’t seen her wear.

Seeing her intrigue, Rel gave a gentle smile.

‘I have seen many battles,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t always tsimi. When I first came here the Althemerians called me Bonebreaker. I have fought many battles and have saved many lives. I earned each one of these.’

She shook her wrists. The bracelets clicked and jangled.

‘How do you get them?’ Emmy asked.

‘It is an Althemerian custom,’ Rel said. She shook her right arm. ‘These are for death. These,’ she shook the left, ‘are for life. You earn one for every life you take and every life you save. Some folk stack their bracelets up when they have no call to but it’s easy to see through their lies. The truth of the bracelets lies in your honor.’ She gave a wan smile. ‘To my shame, on my arms there are more for death than life, but you will see that some others leave their left arms barren.’

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Emmy tentatively reached out to touch the bracelets on Rel’s right arm: her kills.

‘Couldn’t you leave your right arm bare if it bothers you?’ she asked.

Rel shook her head.

‘I do not think that would be honorable,’ she said. ‘For me they are not boasts of my kills, but they are reminders that I have taken lives. It is uncomfortable, but I believe that taking a life should never be allowed to be comfortable.’

She looked at Emmy for a moment. There was a slow upturn of her lips. She removed two metal bracelets from her left arm and passed them to Emmy. ‘Have these. One for Charo. You saved her all that time ago in Bellim, so you should show it. The second is for Zecha, as you doubtless saved him on the boat.’

‘But they’re yours,’ Emmy said.

Rel pressed the bracelets into Emmy’s hand.

‘Yes, so I can do what I like with them,’ she said. ‘May your left arm be full and your right empty. I didn’t learn that lesson soon enough.’

She held up her right arm again. The bracelets clinked and shimmered. She let it drop. As Emmy slipped the metal rings around her left wrist, Rel’s grin returned.

Emmy looked at Rel, elegant astride the sable-furred vaemar, her long fronds glistening in the moons’ light. Curiosity bred curiosity, and Emmy ventured another question.

‘Rel?’ she asked.

‘Yes, Emmy?’

‘Why are you here? With the Althemerians, I mean. I know you said you were waiting for me, but why here?’

‘Ah,’ Rel said, though she did not look at Emmy. ‘That is a boring story.’

‘Will you tell me?’ Emmy asked.

Rel shrugged, chuckling.

‘I suppose it will pass the moments before Charo and Zecha arrive,’ she said. ‘As I said before, Belfon is not like Althemer or Metakala or Va Chress, or even the slavers in Valtat. In all these places, the female is the soldier, the ruler. The female is power. In Belfon, things are tipped on their heads. Males have the power—like with the Masvams—and females are permitted little.’

‘Right,’ Emmy said.

‘Females are expected to abide and obey and stay at foot of the male.’ Rel’s jaw clenched. ‘But I couldn’t stomach that, so I left, and you know the rest of that story.’

Emmy nodded.

‘You said you earned your freedom,’ she said, ‘so why are you still here?’

Rel blew out her cheeks and shrugged. The moons painted her green fronds silver.

‘I had nowhere to go,’ she said. ‘I cannot go back to Belfon even though it is my home. I am ingufu. Evil. Because I couldn’t supplicate myself before the males. I don’t belong there. I found a new home with my friend but now she is gone. She said I had to stay here and so I did. And here you are, and here I am.’

Emmy nodded, regarding Rel with round eyes.

‘I know how it feels to have nowhere to go,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to go back to Metakala. In fact, I don’t know where I want to go. Folk treat me like a demon.’ She chanted, singsong: ‘“Moon Rogue, Moon Rogue. Go back to your hole and die…” That’s what they said. Everyone.’

Rel exhaled a sharp ‘ha!’ and shook her head.

‘Let me tell you about ingufu: “Moon Rogue,” in your words,’ she said. ‘The idea of Moon Rogue, someone forgotten by the goddess, is a fable. It is a made-up story to scare little younglings into obeying their parents. They say there are demons in the Dark and the Moon Rogue leads them. These demons spread their wings across the Arc of the Sky to bring eternal night, and all that their shadows fall upon are doomed to eternal punishment, darkness, never-ending pain—ha!’ Rel made a sweeping gesture across the encampment. ‘What is this, if not evil? Evil comes from folk, not gods. I do not believe in any kind of Dark. Do you know what the Uloni god Meia does for punishment?’

Emmy sat up in the saddle. The name of her folk sent her heart fluttering.

‘What?’ she asked.

Rel shook her head, spreading her free hand to the sky.

‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘Folk bring their own punishment. If you turn from the path of goodness and do not turn back, you turn from god. You push yourself away. And what could be a worse punishment than being far from god?’

Rel’s question rang in her mind as Emmy sat back, wondering where Krodge was now—or how close Bose was to his god.

Finished them off, I did.

‘Will you tell me more about Meia?’ Emmy asked.

Rel inclined her head. The green of her eyes was touched with pewter.

‘I will,’ she said, ‘but the best one to ask is Bomsoi. She will tell you all you need to know when we see her.’

‘Bomsoi,’ Emmy said.

Rel’s eyes crinkled.

‘Yes, Bomsoi,’ she said. ‘I miss her very much. I think you will like her when you meet.’

A creak drew their attention. Both Emmy and Rel turned.

‘Ah, they’re finally ready,’ Rel said.

Two soldiers in blue tunics and mail shirts emerged from the healer’s building, gleaming in the paleness of the moons’ light. It was Charo and Zecha.

Charo’s face was too old under her burnished helm. Zecha looked handsome in his uniform. For a moment Emmy was proud. He had always wanted to wear and uniform and fight. But her pride disappeared as quickly as it came. This was no game. With Masvams on the prowl, they could easily be dead within hours.

Her vaemar whimpered again, as if reading her thoughts, and Emmy murmured words of comfort into his tall ears.

‘Let’s go,’ Rel said, turning her vaemar towards the guards at the gate. ‘The sooner we leave this place, the better.’

She held out a hand to Charo and pulled her onto the vaemar behind her. Emmy did the same for Zecha and the four set off in a short arc across the compound. They stopped their vaemar in front of the guards.

‘We’re going to pick shrooms,’ Rel said in a tone that asked no permission.

The older of the two guards squinted up at her, shaking her head.

‘Is this really the time for that?’ she asked, ‘considering the soldiers march in the morning.’

Rel glared, keeping her chin high but her eyes downturned.

‘This is the perfect time,’ she said. ‘And regardless of whether it is or not, I will not justify myself to you or anyone else who knows nothing of healing.’

The guard held up her hands and backed away.

‘Whatever you want,’ she said.

‘Indeed,’ Rel replied.

She kept her chin held high and her back straight as she urged her vaemar into motion again. Trying to imbibe some of Rel’s courage, Emmy tilted up her chin and clicked her tongue to signal movement to Skitter. Her heart pounded so loud in her ears she was sure the guards would hear it and sense her fear and guilt, but they didn’t. And together, the four padded away from the encampment.

As they built up speed, Emmy’s heart continued to pound. This time it was with excitement. Only one thought rolled around in her head, keeping time with Skitter’s stride.

We’re free. We’re free. We’re free!