Fevered Star (Between Earth and Sky, #2)(82)

“Fuck off!” she screamed, but it came out mumbled and hoarse. Her head throbbed, but if she was going to die, she was going to do it fighting.

“What’s this?” the second man said. “The fish talks? Maybe we take her tongue, too.”

“The fish does more than talk,” came a soft, singsong voice, and Xiala almost wept in relief as Iktan seemed to appear from nowhere, the grass parting to make way. “She Sings. Do you know about a Teek’s Song, my friends?”

“Tsiyo!” the woman exclaimed in surprise.

“It is an ancient magic, a gift from the time of the gods woven into their very making,” Iktan continued. “It is said that they can kill with a single note. Imagine that. A simple melody”— xe hummed a note, stretched it out until it bent into something strange and unsettling—“and your brain will burst and leak from your ears. Or was it that your heart will shatter and leak from your anus? Well, either way, you’re leaking, so…”

The hands that held her let go.

“Just a bit of fun, tsiyo,” the first man said with a nervous laugh. “We wouldn’t have really hurt—”

“Careful, friend,” Iktan said, voice as cold as the frost on the riverbanks, “that your next words don’t call me a fool.”

“Our sincere apologies,” the woman offered, voice shaking. “We should have never come.” And then they were scrambling away, falling over themselves as they scattered back toward town.

“Pathetic,” Iktan murmured as xe watched them go.

Xiala heaved, trying to find air.

“Skies, Xiala!” Iktan swore. “Did they hurt you?”

“Land sickness,” she croaked. It had to be. Oh, Mother waters, it had to only be that. She rubbed at her throat, panic heavy on her chest.

“Land sickness? Shall I take you to the river?”

“No,” she mumbled. “Rivers feel different. They are not the sea. They don’t… they are not the Teek Mother.”

“No,” Iktan said. “They spring from the gods of snow and rain.”

Xe dropped down beside her and opened a waterskin. She took it and drank, swallowing as quickly as she could.

“Those things you said about a Teek’s Song,” she said, once she had drunk enough. “They are forbidden. We don’t use our Mother’s gift as a weapon.” She didn’t know why she said it when all she could think about were the times she had used her Song as exactly that, and why she thought Iktan would care. “We soothe the waters, can soothe men, too. Only sometimes…”

“Shhh,” Iktan whispered. Xe hoisted her arm around xir shoulders and pulled her to her feet. “Please don’t ruin it for me, Xiala. Right now, I live with the fantasy of you bursting Ziha’s insides until she shits her guts out. It keeps me going. Don’t take it away.”

She choked, wanting to laugh, wanting to explain her Song was not supposed to work on women, but instead, she only found tears.



* * *



Their progress back to camp was slow, and Xiala had to stop and rest even for such a short distance. Ziha was there to greet them, her face a mask of anger that morphed into alarm once she realized Xiala was sick.

“I was about to send scouts out to find you,” Ziha said. “I thought you had run.”

“Run where?” Iktan asked, exasperated. “Never mind. Just help me get her inside.”

“Take her to my tent,” Ziha said, and Iktan brought her in and settled her down on the now-familiar furs. Xe covered her with a blanket while Ziha built up the fire.

“Are you comfortable?” xe asked, and Xiala nodded. “Good. Rest. I must speak to our commander.”

Xe motioned Ziha to come with xir outside. She could see them talking just beyond the doorway, heads close. She wished she had Serapio’s hearing, but even without it, she knew their talk was about her. She tried to stay awake to follow their conversation, read gesture and tone, but her eyes grew too heavy.

She awoke once only long enough to see that both Iktan and Ziha were gone, and then she awoke much later to Ziha coming through the entrance. She was sweating, and her shoulders were high around her ears. A muscle worked along her jawline, and her eyes were hooded. Tension thrummed through the room, enough that Xiala fought through her exhaustion and forced herself to sitting.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, wary.

Ziha threw something down on the furs. A white stone with a light brown center, its end trailing ragged, bloody threads. No, that didn’t make sense. Stones didn’t bleed, and this one looked too round and perfect to be a river stone. With horror, Xiala realized what it was and skittered backward, trying to put distance between herself and the gruesome trophy.

“Iktan told me what happened,” Ziha said, voice terse. She wiped at her brow with a shaking hand. “It was unacceptable. There are rules of hospitality, lines that cannot be breached, else they shame us all. I hope this punishment is satisfactory.”

Xiala looked up at her, face pale. “You took her eyeball?”

“Only one, same as they wanted from you. Iktan told me that there are some who collect Teek parts for cacao. Or luck. Or sport. I want you to know that will not happen as long as you are under my protection.”

Xiala wasn’t sure what to do, what to say to such justice, even when it had been committed on her behalf. Ziha was staring at her, hazel eyes turned as hard and unyielding as tourmaline, so Xiala only nodded and whispered, “Thank you.”