The Scourge (22 page)

“It’s hard to forget your mother disappearing,” he says coldly. I touch his arm. When she speaks again, Kadee sounds like she's pleading. Pleading for Peree to understand.

“I wandered for days, frightened and lost, until I found Koolkuna. These people took me in, and showed me for the first time that what I knew in my heart, but never revealed for fear of what others would think, was true. It was very hard to return home, but I couldn’t be away from you any longer. I missed you terribly.”

Peree doesn’t respond.

“I was eager to share my good news with our people, but my hopes were shattered when I told your father. He thought the time I spent on the ground had driven me mad. He said if I told anyone else, he would take you from me. So I tried to forget what I knew, and to carry on with my life, even if it meant living a lie. Eventually, I couldn’t do it any longer. I was miserable . . . ready to harm myself. The night I left, I told Shrike I was returning to Koolkuna, and I wanted to bring you with me. He flew into a rage, and threatened to kill us both. So I came back alone.”

Peree scoffs. “Unbelievable. You blame Father, when you’re the one who abandoned us?”

“No, of course not. Your father is a strong-willed, brave man, fiercely loyal to his family and his people–” I can only imagine the look Peree gave Kadee when she spoke of loyalty. “But he’s human. I didn’t expect him to believe me right away, but I did hope he might trust me enough to come see Koolkuna for himself.”

“He wouldn’t go?” I ask.

“Like Groundlings, there’s little Lofties fear more than exposure to the Scourge. Walking through the forest only on blind faith is a journey not many would be willing to make. Shrike was afraid I would spirit Peree away, take him where he didn’t dare follow—here to Koolkuna. No, he wasn't willing to go.”

Peree was willing.
It was through the caves, not the forest, but he came with me. I didn’t consider how daunting it must have been for him to leave the trees.

“Son, to see the man you’ve become is a joy I didn’t think I’d ever have, the answer to my prayers over the last ten years,” Kadee continues. “I’ve been content here, but I wasn’t
happy
until the day the men carried you into the village from the Myuna—the day I saw you again. And to know you have a caring, faithful friend is an added blessing.” She squeezes my hand, and I smile at her.

“Did you tell anyone else about Koolkuna, before you left?” I ask.

“No, stars forgive me, I didn’t have the courage after Shrike’s reaction.”

“But he knows you’re here now, or at least he knows Koolkuna exists,” Peree says slowly. “He may have told someone.”

I almost choke on my tea. “Do you think he told Aloe? She was more supportive of the idea of me searching for the Hidden Waters than I thought she’d be.”

“Shrike and Aloe have always been close,” Kadee says, a hint of something unexpected in her voice. Envy? Regret? “Or at least as close as a Groundling and Lofty could be. What did the Council say about you accompanying Fennel?”

Peree snorts. “What Council? We don’t have one anymore.”

“What? Why not?” She sounds genuinely shocked.

“Not enough of us left to need one.”

Haltingly, his voice pitched low, he tells her the story of the fever and its aftermath. As Kadee begins to cry, I excuse myself and slip out, giving them privacy. I need air, and time alone to think. My mind is overloaded with information and my body brims with pent-up emotion.

A steady rain finally falls as I wander toward the clearing where I heard the sick one. Was that only yesterday? I’m just now starting to consider the implications of what we learned. Almost everything about my community, where we live, how we live, is based on the belief that the Scourge is monstrous, existing only to consume us. And the framework of my life as well—the combined gift and curse of my Sightlessness, my responsibilities of stocking the caves and collecting the water—was defined by the flesh-eaters. It collapsed in one morning.

I reach the clearing. I can hear the stream bubbling over the soft thrum of rain on leaves. And I hear something else. Voices singing in the first language of the
anuna
. I stand under the canopy of a tree and listen, strangely soothed by the unfamiliar, discordant tune.

Footsteps approach, followed by the sweet scent of clove blending with the fertile smell of moist earth. I wonder how Nerang keeps his pipe lit in the middle of a rainstorm.

“Come in from the rain, young one.”

I don’t move. “Why are they singing?”

“It’s a song of celebration. The Myuna has not been as plentiful of late. Where is your friend?”

“Talking with Kadee.”

“Good, they have much to discuss.”

I turn on him. “How long? How long have you known who we were?”

“I suspected where you were from the moment I saw you. You were dressed so similarly to Kadee when she first appeared in Koolkuna. But I didn’t know who your friend was until Kadee told me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me what you knew?” And I don’t just mean why didn’t he tell me he knew where I was from, or that Peree was Kadee’s son, but all of it—all the secrets he’d been keeping. I don’t have to say it. He understands exactly what I mean.

“First, because you were close to physical and mental exhaustion when you arrived. You needed time to rest and regain your strength. Second, Kadee needed to be the one to tell you both. How your friend may be related to my friend is not any of our business, despite what Kora’s doll might have to say on the matter.” I crack a small smile at that. “And third, you weren’t ready to hear it. You needed your strength, and you needed your friend to mend first. Those needs coincided with the amount of time required for you to drink from the Myuna before we showed you the nature of Koolkuna’s protection.”

Protection.
The word bounces around inside my head.

“Nerang, what is it about being Sightless that protects me?”

I catch another whiff of the sweet smoke before he speaks. “When Kadee told me about the protection provided by your Sightlessness, I was puzzled. Then the answer became clear. The illusion caused by the poison is powerful, but because you are Sightless, you’re less convinced. Your eyes don’t deceive you, if you will, as ours do. And, from the beginning you were told you could not be harmed. You
believed
you were protected, as much as others believed they were not. And so it was.”

I shake my head, boggled by the idea. “All my life Sightlessness has been celebrated as a gift to myself and my community, something to be grateful for. But it’s meaningless. A weakness after all.”

“Forgive me for making assumptions, but I suspect it has given you much.”

“Like what?” I scoff. “Other than more scars and bruises than I can count.”

“Bravery, strength of character, willingness to sacrifice for others. Even wisdom. You may be Sightless, young one, but you have more vision than most your age.”

I try to resist, but the corner of my mouth lifts again. “I bet Yindi couldn’t stay mad at you either.”

Nerang chuckles. “True.”

I comb my wet, stringy hair back from my face. “I don’t know what to do with all of this. It’s too much.”

“Give yourself time.”

“I don’t have time! I need to go home. I’m afraid to think about what’s happening back there. And now I somehow have to convince my people that pretty much everything they believe isn’t true.”

“Faith has been limited since the Fall,” he agrees. “At first we tried to simply tell
lorinyas
the truth, but we found we had to prove it to them by having them drink from the Myuna. Yet, you have one advantage we do not.”

“What’s that?”

“Your people know you, and trust you. You can use that.”

I think of Adder and Thistle. “Not all of them.”

“I didn’t say it would be easy, young one.” He puffs on his pipe. “Of course, there is another choice you can make.”

I wait, but he doesn’t say anything. “What is it?”

“You can stay. Create a life here in Koolkuna, as Kadee did. You would be welcome.”

I step back, startled by the powerful yearning his words prompt in me. I can picture it—my life in Koolkuna. Working in the sunny gardens instead of alone in the caves; drying and preparing herbs for Nerang, maybe even learning his healing arts; taking Kora under my wing; getting to know the others who have been so kind to me since I arrived. I want that life badly. The safety and comfort Koolkuna offers is seductive.

And I could have it. I could stay here. I could let people think I died trying to find the Hidden Waters.

Eland, Aloe, Calli, Bear, Fox
. . .
Like a dead roll, I hear the whispered names of the loved ones I’d never be with again if I take that path. I shake my head, and take another step away.

“No.”

Nerang’s voice is gentle, as if he could hear my thoughts and sympathized with my struggle. “I thought you would say that. Well, then. Before you go we will talk about what might be done to convince your people they need not fear the
runa.
”

The singing faded away while we spoke, leaving only the steady tattoo of rain in its absence. A shout rises from the village.

“Ah, the hunting party has returned,” Nerang says with relief. “And they’ve had success, from the sound of it.”

The idea of eating freshly cooked game twice in one summer makes my mouth water. “Are there more animals here? Because of the Myuna?”

“The animal populations are returning. It was a good sign that you saw a predator in the Dark Place. The return of the large animals means their food source, the smaller animals, is thriving. They in turn will stay near the Myuna, bolstering our food supply.”

I think about the tiger—or whatever she was—and her babies, and the dark, hopeless hours that followed, and I shiver. “You said the Myuna hasn’t been as plentiful? What happens if it dries up?”

“It won’t, as long as the rains stay,” he says, but worry infuses his voice. “I must go and see Konol. Would you like to meet him?”

“Yes, I would . . . but later.”

“As you wish. I hope you’ll stay at least until the Feast of Deliverance. The moon is full in two days’ time.” He grunts. “And it may take us two days to convince your pigheaded friend he’s not strong enough to make the journey back with you yet.”

I sigh. “I know.”

“I could use my incense to drug him again,” Nerang says thoughtfully, and I laugh. “But hopefully it won’t come to that. Until later, then.”

I turn my face to the sky. The rain is diminishing; the clouds have finally wrung themselves out. Individual drops join together and slip away down my nose and cheeks. I find the boulder I sat on before and curl up next to it, ignoring the chill.

“Fenn.”

Peree’s voice drifts through the trees. I slow my pace, listening for him, unsure if he’s there in my dream, or in the rain-soaked reality I’ve left behind. Could he be in both? I pause, one foot on a firm, sunlit patch, and the other sinking into spongy, wet ground.

“I’ve been looking all over for you. Are you alright?” He leans over me.

“Yes,” I mumble, but I stay still, reluctant to give up the powerful sense of freedom in my dream. Until I realize I can’t feel my fingers or toes. “Actually, I’m freezing.”

“Let’s get you inside.” He pulls me to my feet, and wraps his arm around my hunched shoulders. He leans heavily on his crutch as we walk.

“How are you?” I ask.

“Okay, I guess. We both said things that needed to be said." He sounds less angry than I've heard him sound since he found out Kadee was alive. "My grandparents, her parents, died during the fever outbreak. All I have left is my grandmother Breeze, Shrike’s mother. Did I tell you that?”

“No—I’m sorry.”

“So was Kadee.” He’s quiet for a moment. “I realized something. She left us . . . but she didn’t really leave us behind.”

I consider again how I would feel if I stayed in Koolkuna and never saw Aloe and Eland again. “I can believe that.”

He leads me into his shelter and gets to work on the fire. I sink into the chair.

“I’m having a hard time believing any of it,” he says. “If I hadn’t seen the way the creatures looked . . .”

“They sounded pitiful. I wanted to help them.”

“Yeah,” he grumbles, “I wasn’t too happy when you touched that one.”

I shrink from the memory of its cadaverous skin under my hand. Where are the
runa
now? How do they survive without shelter, extra clothes, a fire? No wonder they don’t live very long.

“If you want to change," he says, "your pack is there on the bed. I brought it over . . . in case you needed anything. ”

I pull a cloth out to dry myself, and the extra dress Kadee gave me, but I can’t change with Peree three paces away. So I hunch in a chair and listen to him work. He hoots in triumph as flames finally pop and hiss into existence. Then he seems to notice my dilemma.

“Change. I’ll go outside.”

I dry off and pull Kadee’s dress on quickly, then call him back in. “I can turn my back if you want to change,” I tell him.

“That's not necessary.” He sounds amused. His soggy shirt falls to the floor, and I assume his pants are next. The heat from the fire is suddenly stifling. I shuffle things around inside my pack, trying to look unfazed, but who am I kidding? Every sliver of my attention is focused on him.

“What’s that?” he asks.

I realize I’m gripping Peree’s knife, the little bird he carved, and the rabbit’s foot. They were all rolled up in the fabric remnant Bear gave me. I crumple the cloth bear in my hand to hide it, and hold his knife out to him instead.

“Here, I took this out of your pack when we left the caves.”

He takes it from me. “Thanks, I’ve been missing it. And now I can finish your bird. Is that the foot of a rabbit?”