Sona and the golden beas.., p.10
Sona and the Golden Beasts, page 10
But a cloud covered the moon, and there was no second arrow. She glanced back again—the Hunter’s shadowy form was urging the reluctant Cardamom forward. She heard Cardamom neigh, then heard the crack of a whip. A whip! On her family’s sweet horse!
Cardamom screamed. But he refused to step onto the dam.
The Hunter swore loudly, and finally, the horse stopped screaming. The cloud moved on, and Sona squinted in the moonlight. The Hunter was holding something to Cardamom’s ear and had gotten the horse to step onto the dam.
“Keep going!” Raag cried.
Sona forced herself to turn forward. She hauled on Willa’s lead and brought her the last few steps to reach the shore. “We’ve got to get out of here!”
“Yes, but I think I can do something first,” Raag said. He put his hands together and bowed, then reached into a saddlebag and pulled out a stringed instrument, a much smaller version of what he’d played at Ayah’s house.
“What are you doing?” Sona cried as Raag sat on the bank facing the dam. The Hunter was on the dam now; he was going to catch them.
“Get up on Willa and get ready to run when I tell you.”
“But—”
“There’s a village tucked into a curve of the river a few miles downstream. Go there and ask for Yaami and tell her you’re with me. They will help you. Just get ready.”
Sona climbed onto Willa’s back and turned Willa parallel to the river as Raag plucked a string on the instrument and a single note rang out. And then he began to sing.
Sona couldn’t understand the words, but the lyrics were made of short syllables—a work song, a song to make one try and try until the work was done. A song to make one believe one could do anything, could change the course of rivers.
And in the moonlight on the dam, she saw small dark figures emerge and start scurrying toward the Hunter. Beavers! But they couldn’t possibly do anything against a Hunter. He would kill them like he’d killed so many animals that crossed his path.
But the beavers stopped well short of reaching the Hunter; instead, they darted back into the dam and disappeared.
“Raag! Jump on! We’ve got to go!” Sona cried.
But Raag shook his head and kept singing.
And Sona refused to leave him at the mercy of the Hunter.
Sona counted to ten. To twenty. To fifty. The Hunter made slow but steady progress, leading Cardamom on top of the dam. He was almost halfway across.
And then, suddenly, the Hunter stumbled as the level surface of the dam in front of him broke apart.
Cardamom reared, and the reins slipped out of the Hunter’s hands. The fracture grew, and the dam split, allowing the water from upstream to start flowing with a trickle that quickly became a larger stream, then even larger, as the pent-up water of the Genla broke through its chains.
Free of the Hunter’s grasp, Cardamom stepped back, and finding the footing treacherous, wheeled with rolling eyes, desperate to return to safety.
The Hunter shouted at the horse, and Sona bit her tongue to stop herself from crying out. She didn’t want Cardamom to fall into the river and be swept away.
Cardamom’s front leg slipped into the water, and he screamed.
But then he found his footing and ran back to the far shore, kicking forcefully. Cardamom reached the opposite shore as the dam broke away completely. The dislodged piece started to float downstream with the Hunter on it, picking up pace as the full force of the river pushed against it.
The Hunter crouched on the floating piece of the dam. He took a mighty leap toward the part still attached to the shore where Raag sat.
“Raag! Get on!” Sona yelled.
Raag stopped singing. He scrambled to stand and ran toward her.
The Hunter’s leap fell short, and he landed with a splash in the water, scrabbling for the edge of the dam. But the current caught him, and he roared as the Genla carried him away. “I’ll find you, girl! And that demonic fish! I always get my prey!”
Sona and Raag stayed silent for a moment, listening to the Hunter’s fading cries as he was swept far downstream.
“That is one crazy Malech,” Raag murmured.
“We did it. We escaped him,” Sona said shakily. “You were marvelous. You saved all our lives.” She offered Raag a hand.
Raag grasped her hand, and she pulled him up onto Willa’s back.
“You were marvelous,” Raag said. “You saved that golden Fish.”
Sona shook her head. “I didn’t know what I was doing. I wanted . . . I felt I should hold my hand out. It was just good timing.”
“I couldn’t have done better if I’d sung the Song of the Fish.” Raag twisted to look Sona in the eyes. “I’ve never, ever heard of a Malech with such a way with animals. Other than—”
“If you compare me to the Hunter again, I’ll push you off this pony.” Sona shoved Raag lightly.
Raag laughed. “No offense. If the Fish loves you, you’re clearly something special.”
Sona’s face heated, and she smiled. “You’re rather special yourself. Tell me, how did you do that thing with the beavers?”
Raag grinned. “I’ve studied hard with Matrka. There’s a reason why the Malechs have outlawed music. I called down dam-nation on him.”
Excerpt from a letter from Zol Mallani, Governor of Tir Province, to Jamas, Minister of Trade of the Royal Isle of Malechia
YK 648
Year 168 of the Devan Fourth Age
73 years before the Present Day
All is well, Minister, for now. The harvest is coming in, and we will have plenty to feed all of Devia, to send back to our dear Home Isle, and to trade around the world.
Mining operations are in full swing, and the gems seem inexhaustible, no matter where we delve or how deep we dig. My fellow Governors tell me the same is true in every province but Parvat—I hear it is a stark, cold place, with little to offer in the way of shelter, arable soil, or treasure. It has been abandoned by the Devans themselves, so I see no reason to waste our resources searching further.
With the huge profits from the gem mining, we have built roads, ships, and shelters for Malechs and Devans alike. The Goldstorms have been bad this year, it’s true, but we shall build stronger and higher to prosper despite them.
It pains me to think what the Devans would do without us, as they are a thoroughly uncivilized people who have no centralized leadership and waste time quarreling among themselves. And then there is their insistence on clinging to their simple earth worship when we know that it is the Wind God who blows blessings to us all.
I say to you truly: not only is Devia the gem in the belt of our far-flung empire, but we are the true saviors of Devia!
Yours in loyalty and honor,
Zol Mallani
14
Disguised
It was full dark when Raag signaled to bring Willa to a halt. The children dismounted and fed and watered the animals at a small stream that spilled into the Genla.
“Here’s the tricky part,” Raag said.
“Here’s the tricky part?” Sona said incredulously. Her breathing was still uneven from their close call on the dam.
“We need to get to safety in the village. We can tell the village leader, Yaami, and her people all about the Fish and the Hunter. But before we meet them, we need to disguise you a bit,” Raag said.
“What? Why?”
“They’re not too fond of Malechs here, so we need to make you a Devan.”
Sona’s skin prickled. Raag was getting rather close to the truth. Maybe she should tell him?
“Raag—”
“You’re already wearing a Devan-style shirt from Ma, so that’s good. Take out your earring, okay? And I have some paint here that’ll make your ears as golden as any Devan’s.” Raag pulled a jar out of his pocket.
Sona smirked as she removed her earring and put it carefully in a secure pocket. If she hadn’t used Ayah’s ointment this morning, she wouldn’t need any paint for her ears. “As golden as your ears? The ones you hide underneath all that hair?”
“I’m Devan through and through, whether or not my ears are visible,” Raag said.
There was a quaver in Raag’s voice that Sona hadn’t heard before, not even when they were both so worried about Ayah, not even when they were fending off the Hunter on the dam. She meant only to tease him, not upset him.
“Never mind,” said Sona. “Let’s do it.”
Raag opened the jar, and the contents inside glittered gold.
“That’s not Golddust, is it?” Sona asked.
“It’s not,” said Raag. “We both know that Golddust doesn’t stay golden. This is made from some special clay, and then Matrka and Ma know just how to sing so it can disguise someone.”
Sona nodded and thought of the healing ointment in her pack, the one that also disguised her own ears. “But why would a Malech want to pretend to be Devan? And why would any Devans allow them to?” she asked.
Raag shrugged. “Who knows? In any case, I raided our stores before we left. Here—” He dipped his finger into the paint, which was thick like cream. “Show me your ears.”
Sona pushed her hair back behind her ears. “Raag—”
“Hold still and stay quiet for a moment. Your ears move when you talk.”
As Raag worked, Sona thought some more. Ayah had told her to keep her identity a secret, but how long could she keep fooling her traveling companion, the one who just saved her life? But Raag finally seemed to like her even though he thought she was a Malech. Maybe now wasn’t the time to upset their new friendship.
“There. All done. Now nothing but complete immersion in water will take that off. I need to go ahead and make sure the villagers know we’re friends. Just stay here and try not to make too much noise. While I’m gone, put some of this stuff on Swara’s ears to disguise the gold. She’s getting too big to be carried everywhere. We’re going to have to pretend she’s a regular dog.” He held out another jar to Sona.
“What’s this?”
“Black coloring. Ma uses it to dye clothes. It should work. Here, use this cloth so your hands don’t get too stained.”
“You’ve thought of everything,” Sona said, taking the piece of fabric.
“Told you I’d be helpful,” Raag said. “Oh, and one more thing, Malech. We’ll be speaking in the Common Tongue here, since we don’t know the local dialect. But you should use the Devan words for places—Tirna, not Tir, and Sindhu, not Sindh. You Malechs want to shorten everything, as if that makes words easier to say. But in the village, you must be a Devan girl, right?”
“Right,” Sona said. She swallowed. “I hope I don’t make too many mistakes.”
“You’ll be fine,” Raag said. “And I’ll be there to help.” Then he disappeared into the brush.
Sona applied the black dye, which was also thick and sticky, to Swara’s ears. Swara squirmed and tried to turn away, but Sona held her head firmly and commanded her to stay. Eventually, she thought she had covered all the gold, and sat back to wait.
But after traveling so far so quickly, waiting was hard. Jittery energy pulsed through Sona’s body. She wanted to run, to hide, to magically transport them all to Mount Meru. To get the amrita for Ayah, to find Swara a safe place to live. Had the Hunter survived his trip down the river? Sona felt in her heart that the danger was not yet past.
So she waited. And waited. After pacing back and forth for what felt like forever, she sat and put her back against a log.
Had something happened to Raag? Maybe she should go and see.
“Sona, are you there?” came a voice. That couldn’t be Raag—he never called her anything but Malech.
“Sona? It’s me, Raag. It’s safe. Come out.”
Sona stood, made sure Swara was tucked in tight in a bag that she put over one shoulder and across her chest, then grabbed Willa’s lead and walked toward the voice. She found Raag with two Devan adults—a woman and a man—as well as a little girl who looked to be about eight years old. Well, this explained why Raag hadn’t called her Malech.
“Welcome, Sona of Tirna,” said the woman in a voice as melodic as the Genla, clasping her fingers and bowing. “I am Yaami, Pitarau of Genpur. This is my husband, Santosh, and our daughter, Revati. Raag has spoken well of you and has explained your urgent errand to help Janaki Pitarau. Welcome, friend. Welcome to Sindhu, the riverlands.”
Sona clasped her hands and bowed. “I am most grateful.”
Sona and Raag followed Yaami until they went up a small hill, through a gap in the trees, and down into a clearing filled with twinkling blue lights.
“Are those tiny fish, flying through the night?” Sona asked.
Yaami smiled. “They are. But they’re made of glass. They are specially made for us at the Sun Temple in Bhoominath, where they have a special talent with glass. Each one contains a tiny oil lamp that burns for a very long time.”
And indeed, as Sona drew closer, she saw that thin ropes had been strung around the clearing, and on each rope were dozens of small blue fish, each lit from within by a minuscule lamp. And every few feet, there was a larger golden fish among the blue. Sona reached out and touched the golden scales, which somehow felt cool and supple, like they belonged to a living fish.
“Those are in honor of Mahseer, the protector of Sindhu, the Great Fish who travels from the river to the sea and back again.”
They had met her! Sona glanced at Raag, and he nodded.
“We must tell you something,” Raag said. “We saw Mahseer tonight, on the Genla.”
Yaami raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Mahseer doesn’t usually travel on the Genla. She is too large to navigate those rocks.”
Sona said, “We saw a golden-headed fish that looked as big as my pony. She was lively and swam upstream swiftly. She came up to us as we walked upon the big beaver dam.”
Yaami nodded. “Ah, that must be Mahseer’s young one. What great fortune! Mahseer has offspring very rarely—less than once a generation. You have brought much joy with this news. We shall celebrate tonight!”
“There’s more,” Raag said. “The fish was pursued by a Hunter.”
Yaami’s face twisted in concern. “What happened?”
“He hurled a spear at the fish, but it missed, and she escaped unharmed,” Sona said. “Then he tried to capture us, saying we got between him and his prey.”
Yaami’s eyes blazed. “How dare he? Where is he now?”
Then Raag told them how the dam broke, and the Hunter was swept away by the river.
Yaami put her hands on the children’s shoulders. “Thank you for telling me this. I will send out messengers tonight that a Hunter has come to Sindhu, and our people must be on the watch for him. If the Hunter lives, he will not rest until he has killed Mahseer. And he will bring soldiers to terrorize our villages, to steal our gems.”
Sona looked anxiously at Raag. Was there no place where they could be safe from the Hunter?
Then Yaami took a deep breath. “But tonight, the Goldstorm is over, and Mahseer and her young one are safe. You are safe, and we will post guards to ensure we all remain so. Our village is well hidden, and no Malechs are allowed here. We will begin our evening meal soon,” said Yaami. “We will feed your pony and let her rest. Please come and eat with us. And first, refresh yourselves.”
They had come upon a village, with cozy huts lit by lanterns that glowed blue and green in the night, all clustered around a central clearing that held a large, still pool of water.
Willa let herself be led away by a young woman. Sona was taken to a bathing hut with basins of steaming water and the scent of herbed soap. In the center of the floor was a bubbling pool lit by oil lamps. Raag handed Sona something surreptitiously—the jar of gold paint for her ears, she thought—and then followed Santosh to a nearby hut.
Yaami continued, “Please soak in this bathing pool for as long as you wish. We have hot springs here, so we can easily use them for washing. There are soaps and scented oils to ease the aches from your travels. Revati will come fetch you when it’s time to gather.”
Sona merely nodded, too amazed for words. How many wonders there were in the world!
Once she was alone, Sona took Swara out of her bag and let her sniff at the pool. The pup wasn’t interested in a bath, it seemed.
“Suit yourself.” Sona laughed. She put Swara back in the bag with a knob of cheese and a piece of bread and commanded her to stay. Then she stripped down and entered the bubbling pool.
It was hot, but not too hot. Sona scrubbed herself with scented salt and herbal soap, then applied an oil whose fragrance reminded her of Ayah’s hair. There was a stone bench at the edge of the pool to sit on. Sona sat, leaned back, and let the warmth of the water soak into her skin, her muscles, her heart.
She missed Ayah’s fingers, massaging her scalp with love. She missed Father’s rumbling laugh and Karn’s quick smile. She missed Ran’s jokes and Lal’s strong arms hugging her. Would she ever see them again? She swiped at her face, and her tears mingled with her sweat in the heat of the pool.
Swara poked her head out of the bag, and Sona laughed again. Here was one reason she couldn’t return to her family, not yet. Once she’d completed her quest, she would go home.
“The Sixth Will Appear” (Devan song):
When Devia is in its darkest hour,
The Sixth Beast will appear.
What once was lost, it shall be found
When the Sixth appears.
What once was hurt, it shall be healed
When the Sixth appears.
Bhoomi will rejoice
When the Sixth appears.
Land, water, people, beasts
All of them will be at peace
When the Sixth appears.
15
The Water Village
Sona dressed quickly in the clean clothes from her bag and scrubbed her stinky traveling clothes and left them to dry on a rack. She had just applied the gold-colored paint to her ears when Revati knocked on the door to the hut. Sona commanded Swara to heel, and Swara came and sat by her leg.
