“I’d rather eat badger dung than centipedes,” she said.
“Have you ever tried one?” Tobble asked, his mouth still full, manners momentarily forgotten.
Khara nodded. “Awful. They’re dull as dirt.”
“Not as dull as wobbyk meat,” I added. Instantly I regretted my words when I saw Tobble’s expression.
“It’s rather hard to enjoy a meal,” he said, “when your companions are discussing how you taste.”
On the cave floor next to Tobble, Khara piled the grass and leaves she’d collected. “So I’ve gone from captor to companion?”
Tobble didn’t answer. His mouth was already full of dorya leaves.
Khara sat cross-legged close to the fire. She stared at Tobble and me as if she were solving a puzzle. “You two make a strange pair indeed. What was it that brought you together?”
I resisted responding. Khara had no right to know anything about us. Still, I had many questions myself. If I answered hers, she might return the favor. And what I gleaned might aid me in the days ahead.
“I rescued Tobble from a sinking boat,” I said. “And he seems to think he must return the favor three times.”
“Wobbyk Code,” Tobble explained, green leaf juice dribbling down his chin.
“Ahh,” said Khara. “And how old are you, Tobble?”
“Forty-two.” Tobble wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m the baby of our family.”
“At forty-two?” Khara exclaimed. She narrowed her eyes. “Wait. How long do wobbyks live?”
“A very long time. I’m perhaps”—Tobble stopped to taste a fresh leaf—“perhaps eight in human years.”
“And you, Byx?” Khara asked.
“I’m eleven.”
“And dairnes live about as long as humans, as I understand it.”
“They could,” I said darkly, “if it weren’t for humans.”
Khara nodded. “Sadly, that is true.”
“How old are you?” Tobble asked.
“Fourteen. Old enough to marry, and then some.” Khara made a sour face. “Or so they tell me.”
“I answered your questions,” I said. “Now you must answer mine.”
Khara half smiled, half nodded. “Fine.”
“Why are you a poacher? Why kill for money?”
“A girl needs to survive. Or a boy. Or in my case, a little of both. As it happens, I don’t have many options these days.” Khara stared past me. “I used to,” she added with a shrug. “In any case, I’ve always had a gift for tracking.”
Tobble licked his palm. “It’s wrong to kill living things.”
“Tell that to the centipedes in your belly,” Khara said, rolling her eyes.
“They’re not . . .” Tobble hesitated. “It’s not the same with bugs.”
“I suspect the bugs would beg to differ.”
Tobble opened his mouth to respond, but instead decided to stuff a wad of grass into it.
“How long did you work for them?” I asked. “Those poachers?”
“A few months, mostly as a guide. Before that, I worked for another group of them. And before that, another. I take work where I can, when I can. I rather like to eat.”
“Won’t they be mad that you ran off?” asked Tobble.
“For a bit, no doubt. That’s why I’m lying low, keeping to the back trails.” Khara waved a hand. “Although, truth be told, that crew of simpletons couldn’t find me without me there to guide them.”
“Two more questions,” I said.
Khara kicked at an ember. It sent up a few halfhearted sparks. “Have at it.”
“Your sword. It changed while you were fighting the serpents.”
“Yes,” Khara said with a sly smile. “That is a story for another day.”
“Answer me this, at least,” I said. “Where are you taking us?”
Khara pursed her lips. She seemed to be debating whether or not to answer me. “I suppose,” she said, “you have a right to know. Whether you like it or not, I’ll tell you the truth.”
“And whether you like it or not,” I said, “I’ll know if you are lying.”
“Ah, yes. I’ve heard those stories. Is it true what they say? That dairnes don’t lie?” Khara asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
“We don’t. It’s not in our nature.”
“Does that mean you can tell when I’m lying?” Tobble asked a bit nervously.
I merely smiled.
Tobble gulped. “Oh my. How can you know a lie for sure?”
I had to think for a moment. “I haven’t had a lot of practice. Adult dairnes don’t lie to each other. Pups try sometimes, until they realize there’s no point. Once, my brother Jax—”
I stopped myself midsentence. Just saying the name out loud made me reel. I didn’t want to talk about my family.
I didn’t want to venture anywhere near that icy black chasm of pain.
“But what does it feel like, hearing a lie?” Tobble pressed, too busy eating, apparently, to notice my discomfort.
Khara was watching me closely, clearly intrigued.
I took a steadying breath and forced an answer. “It feels like . . . Have you ever heard a mockingbird mimic a seajay, or maybe a Dawson’s hawk? It’s an almost perfect imitation, but not quite. There’s something missing, and you hear the wrongness of it. You feel it in your belly.” I looked right at Khara. “The false note you sounded when you tried to make the dairne warning call? That’s what it’s like when I hear a lie.”
“My,” said Tobble, eyes wide. “I’m not sure I would enjoy having that power.”
“In any case, Byx, what I have to say to you will be the truth,” Khara said.
I leaned forward, ready to listen. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
17.
Khara’s Plan
“We’re going to Cora di Schola.”
I exchanged a look with Tobble. No, he didn’t know what that meant, either.
“And that is . . . ?” I asked.
“It’s an island city. Its real name is the Isle of Ursina. But everyone calls it ‘Cora di Schola.’ It means ‘Heart of the Scholars.’”
“Why do they call it that?” Tobble asked.
“It’s shaped roughly like a human heart. And it’s home to scholars and students. The Imperial Academy of Alchemy, Astronomy, Theurgy, and Science is housed there.”
I had to digest each word separately.
“Alchemy,” I’d learned from Dalyntor, was the art of blending substances to create new substances, like medicines. “Astronomy,” I thought, had something to do with stars. “Theurgy” was the study of spells and incantations. And “Science”? I was not quite certain what that was, but it sounded impressive.
“Imperial” sounded impressive, too, until I remembered—
“Imperial?” I cried. “As in the Murdano?”
“His Imperial Highness, the Murdano of Nedarra, Defender of Truth, Guardian of the Righteous, Peacemaker of the People, and so on and so on and so forth,” Khara said, waving her hand.
“But—but it was the Murdano’s soldiers who—”
“You’ll see very few soldiers on the isle,” Khara said. “Soldiers aren’t welcome there. It’s a place of learning.”
“But still, it’s called the Imperial—”
“He’s the Murdano. Everything is his, I suppose. He remade the calendar. He rewrote the dictionary. He has power over everything in Nedarra, including the great governing species.” Under her breath she added, “At least that’s what he thinks.”
“But why are you taking us there?” I pressed. I was mindful of my promise not to attempt escape again. I was even more mindful of what had happened when I’d tried. But I wasn’t about to march to my own death, if that was what Khara had planned.
“We have to go,” Khara said. “We have no other options.”
“I don’t like this,” I said. “I’ve never been to a human city. It sounds too risky.”
“I don’
t like it either,” said Tobble.
Khara held up her palms. “You have no choice.”
“I won’t go,” I declared.
“You realize I could have let the poachers kill you like the Murdano’s men—” Khara fell silent, avoiding my eyes.
I felt daggers in my heart. My imagination conjured pictures—pictures that turned sadness to slow-burning anger.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” Khara said, and I sensed that she was sincere. She rubbed her eyes. “I’m tired, and not speaking as carefully as I should. Forgive me.”
I gave a little nod but said nothing. There was nothing to say.
Minutes passed. The only sound was Tobble’s enthusiastic chewing.
I didn’t want to speak. But far too many questions were boiling in my brain. I needed answers.
“So,” I finally said, keeping my voice even, “your plan is to hand me over to the Murdano?”
“Hah!” Khara gave a dark laugh. “I’m not exactly on friendly terms with the Murdano or his men. No, I’m taking you to a man I know, a famous scholar. A wise man. His name is Ferrucci the Gharri.”
“What’s a ‘Gharri’?” Tobble asked.
“A title of honor. It’s bestowed only on the greatest scholars. They’re men who know all there is to know about the stars, or the shape of the world, or animals, or history. Ferrucci is a good and honest man.” Khara shrugged. “I’ve brought him unusual finds in the past.”
“‘Finds’?” I repeated.
“Rare animals or plants. Ferrucci studies ways to protect them. My plan is to take you to him and seek his advice. He’ll know what to do with a dairne.”
“And why are you bothering to do this?” Tobble asked. “What do you get out of it?”
“I’m trying to help Byx,” Khara said evenly. “But if Ferrucci sees fit to reward me for my efforts, I won’t argue.”
“So that’s your plan, Khara? You’re going to sell Byx?” Tobble leapt to his feet, whiskers quivering. “Byx is my friend, and I do hope you understand that I will not let any harm come to her.”
“I told you,” said Khara. “This is the best I can do.”
“It’s only fair to warn you,” said Tobble. “You do not want to see an angry wobbyk. We are fearsome to behold. I in particular am known for my fierce temper.”
“Thank you, Tobble,” I said. “But—”
“Back home they called me Tobble the Terrible.”
Khara stared at the ground. She might or might not have been smiling.
“So sell me it is?” I said. “To the highest bidder?”
“You think I have choices.” Khara’s voice was a whisper. “When I have none. I have no other way to help Byx. And if helping Byx helps me, so be it. I need the money for my family.”
I looked at her sharply. It was the first Khara had ever mentioned her family.
“Why not sell your sword?” Tobble asked.
Khara pulled the sword a few inches out of its scabbard. “This rusty thing?”
“It wasn’t rusty when you were dicing up serpents,” Tobble pointed out.
Khara leaned toward us, her gaze intent. “This sword,” she said slowly, “has been in my family for generations, and I am the first woman ever entrusted with it.” She shoved the sword back into its worn leather scabbard. “It will stay safe while in my care, even if that means my death.”
Tobble held up his paws. “Fine. If you value a rusty blade over the life of my friend Byx, so be it.”
“It’s not that simple, Tobble,” Khara said. “It never is. Dairnes are rare in this part of the world for a reason. They’ve been hunted to near extinction for their fur—”
“It is amazingly soft,” Tobble interjected.
“But there’s something else at work here, something I don’t understand.” Khara chewed on a nail, lost in thought. “What the Murdano’s soldiers did at the mirabear hive”—she looked at me, then looked away—“didn’t make any sense. They were killing for killing’s sake. And I don’t know why. What I do know is that Ferrucci, at least, will value Byx as a living creature. He’s a scientist, not a killer. This is Byx’s best chance to stay alive. You have to trust me.”
“From trust to dust,” I muttered.
Khara cocked her head. “What did you say?”
“It’s a dairne saying. It means if you trust a human too completely, you’ll end up as nothing but dust.”
“And yet you have no choice.”
We fell into a cold and uneasy silence. Khara was the first to speak, and when she did, her voice was muted.
“Byx,” she said, and then she added, turning, “and Tobble, you, too”—she inhaled deeply—“you love your families, yes?”
“Loved,” I muttered, “might be the more appropriate verb.”
Khara gave a small, terse nod. “Well, I love my family, too. And it is my job to help them weather hard times. No matter what the cost.”
She locked her eyes on mine. I saw dark, deep pools of sadness. Whether it was my own gaze, reflected in hers, I could not say.
“My family is in dire straits,” Khara said. Her voice cracked. It was a vulnerable sound, something I hadn’t heard from her until now. A giving in, like winter ice on a pond tested too soon.
“My relatives are often hungry,” she continued. “Ill. Sometimes even desperate. When I can, I send them the few extra coins I’ve managed to collect from my work as a guide. Finding Byx means I have a chance to truly help them, for the first time in my life. And it means helping Byx, too.” She shrugged. “At least, that’s my hope.”
“Your hope?” Tobble demanded.
“Ferrucci is a good man, Tobble. Yes, he will probably pay me for bringing him one of the last of the dairnes. But he will also protect Byx.” Khara rubbed her eyes. “If a safe haven exists for her, Ferrucci is the one man who can find it.”
Khara reached toward Tobble and touched his shoulder, a gesture of penance, it seemed to me. “I can’t do that for Byx, Tobble,” she whispered. “And neither can you.”
“I can try,” Tobble said. “Which is more than you are doing.”
Khara exhaled, long and slow. We avoided each other’s eyes.
“I have a different question for you,” I finally said to Khara. “When we get to the island, what will this Gharri person do with Tobble?”
“Oh, no one has much use for wobbyks,” Khara said with an apologetic nod to Tobble. “They’re mezzitti.”
Tobble snorted.
“What’s ‘mezzitti’?” I asked. It was a word I didn’t recall from my lessons.
Khara looked incredulous, clearly surprised by my ignorance. “Well, of course, there are six governing species: humans, raptidons, felivets, terramants, natites, and dairnes. That’s according to the Antic Scrolls of the First Coimari. They are the species that can speak—”
“I speak,” Tobble interrupted.
“—can speak,” Khara continued, “can make tools, can learn and pass along learning, and are capable of theurgy.”
“Unfair,” Tobble grumbled. “What use is theurgy, anyway? Silly spells. Magical potions. Ridiculous visions.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Khara said. “The law decrees you must be fifteen to begin training in theurgy.”
“Dairnes don’t practice theurgy much,” I said. “Dalyntor calls—called—it a ‘lost art.’”
“Women aren’t allowed to study it,” Khara said. “Not anymore, anyway.”
“Anymore?” I repeated.
“Before this Murdano took power, some women were allowed to learn theurgy. My mother used to know a bit.”
“So what are mezzitti?” I asked again.
“Mezzitti can’t perform even the weakest theurgy.
“Mezzitti are species like wobbyks, starlons, and gorellis,” Khara continued. “They can communicate with humans and use tools, but they lack the ability to do magic.”
Tobble sighed loudly. “Totally unfair.”
“The six great governing sp
ecies may not prey on one another, according to the Scrolls. At least that is the decree. Whether it is actually adhered to is another story. Especially when it comes to my own species.”
“Meanwhile, feel free to eat me,” said Tobble.
“Below mezzitti come all the species that cannot communicate with humans, use tools, or do magic,” Khara said.
“Inferritti,” said Tobble.
“Yes.” Khara nodded. “Chimps, whales, crows, crickets, and on and on and on.”
She stood, hands on hips. “Well, that’s enough for now. We should rest. I hate to waste a day, but you two are in no shape to travel.”
“I have more questions,” I said. “Many more.”
“I’m sure you do,” said Khara. She looked at me with a strange mix of frustration and sympathy. “Get some sleep. We’ve a long way to go. We’ll leave tomorrow morning before dawn.”
“Rest,” I muttered. As if that were possible after all I’d just heard. And yet when I looked over at Tobble, he was once again fast asleep.
I wondered if the ability to sleep anywhere, under any circumstances, was a wobbyk gift.
Khara draped him with a blanket and handed me one as well.
“I wish I could do more for you,” she said quietly. “I really do.”
She wasn’t lying, that much I could tell. But it was cold comfort indeed.
Perhaps there is another way, I told myself. A way to avoid Ferrucci, to escape with Tobble, to find more dairnes, to . . .
I fell asleep, my mind whirring with plans, none of which seemed any better than the fate about to befall me.
18.
A Crumpled Map
I dozed fretfully off and on throughout the day. We had serpent again for dinner, and Tobble munched on leaves and bugs, but there were no more questions asked or answered. Khara seemed preoccupied. She spent much of the day near the cave entrance, pacing back and forth.
That night, I tried to force myself to sleep. But every time I closed my eyes, I thought of the horrors I’d witnessed. The deaths of my packmates. The hideous serpents. Who knew what more lay ahead?
It seemed like only moments ago I’d been safe in my mother’s embrace, watching butterbats flutter overhead.