The Killing Moon (Dreamblood #1)(60)
“Come,” Ehiru said. They left the pool, dried themselves, dressed in clean clothes, and then headed to Talithele’s tent. “Wait outside,” he told Nijiri, and the boy nodded and slipped into the shadows behind the tent. He would come if and when Ehiru called him, and that would happen only if Talithele wanted him there.
The minstrel encampment had mostly settled for the evening, though some of the younger members had started an impromptu performance, playing lyre and cymbals at the water’s edge. From within the tent Ehiru heard silence; Talithele’s attendant either had gone, or slept along with her. If they had been Gujaareen he would have gone in without asking. Instead he drummed his fingers against the taut hide of the tent wall. “Elder? May we speak?”
There was a stir from within, followed by another of the old woman’s racking coughs. After the cough stopped he heard, “As much as speech is possible, whoever you are. Come.”
Ehiru slipped in through the tent-flap. Within, the tent was spacious and comfortable, lit by a beeswax lantern that hung from the smokehole. The honey scent did not quite disguise the smell of age and sickness, but Ehiru paid that no mind. Thick fur rugs covered the floor and cushioned the hard stone. The inner tent walls had been painted in brightly colored geometric patterns of some southern style he did not recognize. At the center of the chamber lay two pallets, but only one was occupied at the moment. The old woman was there, struggling to sit up and greet her visitor.
Ehiru moved quickly to crouch at her side and prop her against a stack of cushions nearby. “Forgive me, Talithele-elder. I did not mean to interrupt your rest.”
“Couldn’t rest with this damn cough,” she muttered. He heard Gehanu’s choppy accent in her words. She narrowed her eyes at him then, looking him up and down. “Ah-che. The handsome boy who joined us in Gujaareh. They give you ‘take care of the old woman’ duty for the night?”
Ehiru smiled. “It would be an honor if they had, Elder, but no. I have come for a different purpose.” He paused while she coughed again, harshly and with obvious pain. A flask of water and a cup sat on a tray nearby. When the spasm passed, he poured water for her and lifted this to her lips, holding it while she sipped. She nodded thanks when she was done.
Setting the cup down, he paused for a moment and then reached into his robes for his waist-pouch. Pulling it out, he opened it and poured his Gatherer ornaments into his palm.
She peered at the polished stones with bright-eyed curiosity. He picked up the cicada and held it up for her to see. “Do you know what this is?”
There was no mistaking the blue-black gleam of jungissa, or its characteristic hum when he tapped the cicada’s back. Talithele’s eyes widened. “Kilefe, che? What we call the living stone. I heard that it hummed, but never saw it for myself.”
He smiled. “We call it jungissa. The hum is not life, but magic. The stones fall from the sky, now and again; we believe they are remnants of the Sun’s seed, scattered across the heavens. It took ten years to carve this one, and it took me five years to master its use.” He turned the cicada in his fingers, thoughtful. “There are only a handful of jungissa in all the world.”
She nodded, fascinated—but then her rheumy eyes narrowed at him. “In my land, we tell stories of the kilefe stones and what the priest-warriors of the river kingdoms do with them.”
Ehiru nodded, gazing into her eyes. “We use them to hold spells of sleep in place, while we travel with the sleeper into Ina-Karekh—what we call the realm of dreams.”
“Ah-che.” She sat back, thoughtful. “You’ve come to kill me.”
“Death is only part of what I bring.” He lifted a hand and touched her cheek. She was old, weak; he could feel the hair-thinness of her tether. With the barest brush of his will he pushed her into the edges of Ina-Karekh, carefully steering her into a dream of pleasant memory. A vision of her home village bloomed in both their minds. Around him were huts with grass-thatched roofs, goats being chased by children, guinea fowl scratching in the dust. He smelled animal dung and grain-dust from the storage house nearby. He saw the tall, handsome youth she’d loved so long ago, and for a moment he loved along with her.
With a sigh of regret he ended the dream there, pulling her very gently back to Hona-Karekh. So near death was she that he hadn’t even needed to put her to sleep for that brief journey; she blinked once or twice and then stared at him.
“In Gujaareh, my task is to help guide others into Ina-Karekh in the manner that I have shown you,” he said. He caressed her cheek, admiring the beauty in every sun-weathered seam of her skin before finally dropping his hand to rest on hers. “I have not the skill to heal you, but I can at least see that your afterlife is peaceful and filled with your loved ones and favorite places.”
She stared at him, then let out a long sigh. “What a seducer you are. I never dreamed I would be courted again at my age, or that I would be so tempted to give in. How many women have you had with that silver tongue?”
Ehiru smiled. “None, Elder. Women are forbidden to my kind. But…” he ducked his eyes, feeling his face heat beneath her knowing gaze. “I have loved many in the course of my duty.”
“Ti-sowu? Loved them, you say?” She cocked her head coquettishly. “Do you love me?”
He could not help but chuckle, though he kept it soft so as not to break the spell of peace. “I believe I could, Elder. When I share the dreams of another it is difficult not to love them…”