The Continent (The Continent #1)(39)
“The problem, Miss Sun, is manifold. Yes, a sailboat could likely make the distance you have described. But we are amidst the kazuri ko—the ‘anger of the sea.’ The coastal waters are icy at this time of year—treacherous—and remain so until the winds of autumn blow the bergs back to the north. We do not venture far beyond the marina until that short time between summer and winter. To do so would be to place oneself in the belly of storms that do naught to ships but sink them.
“Secondly, we are at war, as you know. Even if the weather were favorable, we have endured great violence in the north this year, and ought not spare the men required to see you safely to your island.” His expression is apologetic. “I sympathize with your situation, Vaela Sun. Should the tides of war turn in our favor, and should the seasons pass without incident, ensuring safer conditions, we can reevaluate your request. But for the time, as much as it pains me to decline, I must say no.”
My throat clenches and I swallow involuntarily. Silence weighs upon the room, upon me, thick and palpable like a suffocating fog. I struggle to find words, but there are none within my reach.
“I can take her to the island,” Noro says quietly, his eyes fixed on the table. “I do not fear the kazuri ko.”
“Mind your place, boy,” growls the man to Teku’s left.
Noro is unmoved. “I may speak if I wish, Shoshi Kaken.”
The man glares back at Noro. “Teku has spoken for the village. It is not your privilege to compel his judgment.”
“I merely offered to escort the girl back to her people,” Noro says. “She does not belong here.”
The man called Shoshi gives him a joyless smile. “Yes, she has lost her home. And would you lose yours, Noro Zensuke, by abandoning your village and taking to the sea—sinking like a stone in that great yawning tomb of ice and water?”
Noro clenches his teeth, the lines of his jaw tightening. Teku places a hand on Shoshi’s shoulder.
“Peace, Shoshi,” he says. “Young Noro only wishes to do what is honorable. He is to be commended.”
“I thank you,” Noro says.
Teku nods. “But Shoshi is right. You are one of our most valued itzatsune. We depend upon your skill, Noro, and need you here. You have some experience with the sea, yes—but even a salt such as you must practice wisdom. I would not commit you to the deeps just yet.”
Noro bows his head. “I am at your command, Teku Ana.”
Teku turns back to me. “I hope you can understand our position, Vaela Sun. It is not my wish to keep you from your people.”
I shake my head, feeling lost and overwhelmed—and suddenly very ill, now that the numbing barrier of hope has fallen away. “Of course not. You are kind to even consider my request.”
“Good,” he says. “Then I think we shall send you to the healer without further delay. See to it, Noro—and return to the council when Vaela Sun is settled. We have more to discuss.”
The night no longer seems blanketed in wintry softness, but rather feels bleak and cold. The Spire will not collect me. The Aven’ei will not deliver me. The war between the nations of the Continent is unlikely to ease, and this strange and unfamiliar place—Hayato—is to be my home for the foreseeable future.
I ought to feel grateful—grateful to have survived the plane crash, to have been rescued from the Topi, to be treated with such hospitality by a people who have no obligation to me whatsoever. But I do not feel anything of the kind; I am merely angry and resentful. A black thought snakes through my mind: I wish I had died with the others aboard the heli-plane.
Even as I imagine the words, I am appalled by them, scalded by their reckless, roiling venom. I did not think myself capable of such depths. Could it have been scarcely two weeks ago that I was safe at home in the Spire, laughing and dancing and enjoying my party? Now I walk through the dark night in another world, thinking dreadful, shameful thoughts, indulging my own piteous state. My mother and father would be ashamed of me.
We reach our destination after a short while—a narrow house on another residential street. Noro turns to me before knocking at the door. “For what it may be worth,” he says, “I am sorry about the council’s decision. I know it was not what you wished to hear.”
“At least I may put the matter to rest in my heart for now.” As an afterthought, I add, “Please know how much I appreciate your efforts on my behalf.”
He nods, and gestures toward the house. “The healer is called Eno, and though she is mute, you will have no difficulty in communicating with her. She will take good care of you.”
“I have no doubt.”
He raps on the door and takes a step back. As we wait, he looks at me thoughtfully, and for the briefest moment, takes my hand in his. “Be well, girl,” he says. The warmth of his fingers around mine lingers long after he lets go, and it is a surprising comfort on a night that seems otherwise void of all consolation.
CHAPTER 13
FOR FORTY-ONE DAYS, I DO NOT LEAVE THE HEALING room.
The first week is quiet; I turn my face to the wall when Eno comes to open the drapes each morning; I close the curtains when she goes out the door. I do the exercises she prescribes, but decline to go outside. The four walls around me become my personal fortress; my wound heals, my heart aches, and I sleep.