What the Water Gave Me (Izdihar and Subira)

[Subira]

Her euphoric mood swiftly sobered by the child's eerie calmness and the danger that she so willingly and knowingly courted, Subira gulped as she watched the little girl hop into the water and start swimming toward the narrow raft tethered to the Librum rocks. Every muscle in her body cried out for her to scoop the girl out of the water, already vibrant with swirling coils and tendrils of blood-red dye, and away from the predator swimming below the raft. The last thing that she needed was the stain of a child's blood marring the glow of this surprisingly pleasant day, made splendid by their victory over the other reed boats and the joy of piloting a boat again. Already, fear had replaced Subira's ebullience: fear for the child's suffering, fear of her screams -- or worse, her silence -- if the predator followed the inky lure to the water's surface, and fear that this bright day in honor of love would darken with the presence of death and pain. Even as her body yearned to drag the little girl aboard their raft, though, Subira's mind fought down her instincts and forced her to stillness. Hadn't her philosophy tutor been married to an Ano Cultist who had studied at the Librum? And hadn't he told her a little about their teaching methods, like cutting their initiates' arms with knives to train them to endure pain with equanimity? The stories he'd told her had given her nightmares for a week, but they'd also driven home the lesson that she was an outsider and could not judge the Librum's ways. Subira had no right to stop the child at her lessons. She might be the captain of her vessel, but the laws of the sea held no sway over the students of the scales. A cold chill ran down her spine as she watched the child's progress through the reddened water, making her shiver. For a brief, absurd moment, Subira envied Izdihar's peculiar, almost barbaric attire, sharply reminiscent of the clothing worn by the uncivilized horsemen who might have killed her and her crew on that long-ago day when their ship crashed upon their shores. One could not shiver under all that leather, she was sure. She found her voice and spoke a little too harshly, despite her efforts to sound normal. Too forthright by nature to dissemble, Subira could not hide how much the child's trial had unsettled her. "Perhaps...we should leave this place now," she ventured. "We have no business here. We should not be disrupting the child's...her lessons." Just saying the words made her feel chilly all over again. If it had been one of her own sailors swimming in a pool of red toward a raft, with a terrible bloodthirsty predator nearby, Subira wouldn't hesitate to help him. The Ano Cult was something else, though. They had their mysteries, their fearsome ways of turning living, breathing men and women into masters of brilliant, cold deduction and logic. She dared not interfere. "Andrick, help me back the raft out of the archway," she instructed the human servant. "We'll rejoin the other boats and claim our prize from Uncle Harpenres. You'll have a princely sum to enjoy during the festivities, especially if the West Winds are contributing a little of their wealth to you." Turning her face resolutely away from the swimming child, Subira forced herself to concentrate on reversing her usual stroke and moving the reed raft backward through the water. Slowly but steadily, the boat began withdrawing from the shadow of the arch. She thought she saw a hint of movement in the water beneath the boat and hurriedly averted her gaze, telling herself not to think about the child anymore. Her duty was to her ship and the Souths, not to some stranger's life. Instead, she lifted her eyes to the West Winds noblewoman on the dais and tried to smile. "Andrick won't say it, but I'll thank you for him for your generous offer," she called to Izdihar. "It's an honor to conduct a lady with such a kind heart to victory."

[Izdihar]

There was a beating heart somewhere, Izdihar had always thought, waiting for the hands of the Ano Cult to palm it once more. Fear for the child had her balanced on the edge of the dais, poised like a bird preparing for flight; but the water washed over the child too soon, swallowing her even as Izdihar swallowed her protest, a cry unleashed curdling in the back of her throat. An Ano Cultists would have named her fear well founded but irrelevant. Izdihar would have smiled, sweet and low, before delivering a wintry cut and dismissal. It was the Eypharian noble's manner of slapping the faces of fools. The sea wind fluttered the end of her gauze scarf -- barbaric. She had chosen this attire for a reason. Dismayed eyes regarded the unfurling of chum in the water, watching the dilution of pigment in as abstract a fashion as any cultist might appreciate. Gnora was a goddess whom she respected, the Ano Cultists figures of admiration and intellectual wariness. Yet in the end, she found something intrinsic missing from their panorama. It was like having a sunrise without hue. As Subira spoke, she stepped down from the dais, releasing the pole with a reluctant pair of hands. The starboard side found her peering over, watching the movement in the giant's depths, long, thin and cold. She did not know her face had drained of color. "You flatter, Subira," she murmured, flat and distracted. "As for Andrick," and here her head turned, ripping regard from the child and water and the beast. The emotion that had softened the brutish man's countenance earlier had not gone unnoticed. "You are welcome."

[Colombina]

“Miladies.” The bullish man bowed his head to the women, giving them all the credit for the victory. Subira’s mention of the coin reminded him there was a prize apart from goodwill. Money had meant nothing to him for eras; there was nothing he wanted to purchase apart from necessities and his salary covered that amply. Every other want was an intangible, too costly for any man to buy. Infected by the spirit of the afternoon, he wondered if Cheva’s feast would have anything worth purchasing. Andrick’s cloistered pleasure was altered by the young girl’s presence. He noted her bait was better for monstrous fish than crocodiles, but the ridged beasts favored the Librum. Little lure was needed, they could grow fat on students with crude ideas of fear. He never cared for the practice. When Izdihar bent over the side of the boat to observe the crocodile, Andrick flinched. Soft, he was growing soft. Subira was eager to navigate the boat backward, away from the sopping student and her thin raft of lashed palms. Andrick complied, though his focus was elsewhere. The child was perched in the very center of the raft, her legs drawn into her chest. She shivered, but it could not have been for cold under the merciless light of noon. They drifted further away, leaving the uncomfortable puzzle of how the girl would return to the dock unscathed. Amidst the taut air, a cannon from the deep fired, slamming their boat’s belly with unnatural force. Braided reeds returned to leaves of grass as they were shredded and torn from the center of the ship. The water warped and leapt with a monster’s thrashing. Something powerful wanted to tear the tender heart out of prey but was left furious with the brittle taste of straw. Its hunger left a hole big enough for a woman to slip through. The damning breech tore wider with ever gust of water that surged into the vessel. The shelter of the Librum’s dock was five boats away and a taupe fin rose and fell amidst the chop of the water. As the boat began to sink, it seemed the sailors would also be afforded the opportunity to confront fears. OOCHello, my luvs! Do what you like but don’t reach safety, we’re going to have a bit more fun.

[Subira]

The first thought that came to Subira's mind, when she realized that the reed boat's hull had been torn and gouged and water was rushing in through the breach, was, Oh, gods damn it, not again. For an instant, her mind traveled down the dusty avenues of memory to another ship and another hull breach, which had ended in such catastrophe. Not again... Only a faceful of water thrown up by the attack brought Subira's thoughts back from the black abysses of that long-ago storm and into the present day once more. In many ways, the two situations could not be more different, for the fear of capsizing and drowning here was negligible at best, within the shallow waters of the estuary and so close to the Librum's docks. Instead, the three of them had to face not one but possibly two angry and aggressive predators circling around their vessel. Undoubtedly drawn by the young girl's lure, the shark lurked near their rapidly collapsing boat, surely just waiting to sink its mighty jaws deep into their defenseless flesh. That crocodile was probably somewhere nearby too, if it had not been driven away by the arrival of the shark, and its jaws would be no less vicious or painful. In both situations, though, everyone had to think quickly to stay alive and unhurt. Subira desperately searched her memory for any lectures or lessons on what to do in the event of a shark attack. Most of her lessons had been about sailing ships, though, not pleasure vessels, and sharks seldom attacked a wooden ship that wasn't sunk or capsized. Her memory gave her nothing. The hole in the vessel's belly rapidly widened, splitting the reed boat nearly in half, and most of the deck was sliding beneath the waves. With nothing else to guide her, Subira reacted on pure instinct. "Can you swim?" she shouted to Andrick above the sound of tearing reeds and splashing water. "Or you?" she asked, turning to Izdihar. "We need to get out of the water, quickly!" The vessel pitched sideways, throwing her to one side and dumping her unceremoniously in the water, but Subira managed to keep hold of her oar. She tried to look for the shark's ominous fins breasting the waves, but couldn't find it amid the tossing spray and churning waves. Grasping it firmly with her lower arms, she adjusted her grip on the oar as though brandishing a quarterstaff, in the forlorn hope of using it to defend herself if the shark returned for another massive bite. Surely, a good hard jab to its eyes or gills ought to have an effect. The thought of trying to fend off a terrible predator like a shark with a mere length of wood made Subira feel cold all over, or rather even colder than she was already feeling while fully submerged in the water. To her own surprise, though she wasn't panicking or screaming, even while the midst of a crisis that no one could possibly have imagined or foreseen. Her mind felt numb and cold, as though all emotion and thought had been forcibly throttled down. If only I had been like this last time, she thought. If only I could have stayed cool and collected, instead of going frantic and mad with terror. She was the pilot of her vessel, no matter how humble it was, and no pilot could afford to wail and wring her hands if her ship and her crew were in danger. "Stay calm," she called to Izdihar and Andrick, marveling at the distant, detached sound of her own voice. "Don't thrash or kick. Don't let it sense your fear." She maneuvered in the water to turn away toward the Librum docks. With her two upper arms, Subira struck out toward the docks, so far away yet still the closest shelter that they could possibly hope to gain. Truly, the Eypharians were a superior race in every way, even when they were swimming for their lives amid the ruins of their reed pleasure vessel while a dangerous predator was close by, for only an Eypharian could manage to swim while holding onto a weapon at the same time. Of course, she would have gone even faster with all four arms propelling her through the water, but she rather doubted she'd be able to outswim a shark. "Follow me," she panted, turning her head toward her passenger and the human slave. Her breaths came hard and fast as she tried to swim and yell simultaneously. "Cling to a piece of wreckage if you have to and paddle toward the docks! If you want to live, swim for the Librum!"

[Izdihar]

Within the short span of her life, this daughter of the Westwinds had witnessed many whirlwinds. They were poisoned tipped and sly, shrouded by the reach of the hands not hidden or the glitter of gold crossing palms. This was something altogether different. Fear pierced her vocal cords when the boat heaved, a grip to the side already slipping when the waters began to rush through the breach. Subira's calm commands cut through the cacophony of ripping reeds and Laviku's legion of wet, hungry mouths. Stay calm, Izdihar echoed in her head, a part of her smiling inside for the tip of the imagined Ano Cultists' hat. So it was with calm, control bartered and battled for amid Painted Faces and the Pillars of Dust alike, that she raised her voice to provide what, to her at least, was the most importent bit of information. "Subira, Andrick. I can't swim." Seconds slipped and with them through the cracks did she, plunged into the deep with one of daggers her wise Aunt Esi had gifted her just that dawn. A gulping breath filled her lungs and held there as the waters closed over her head. Heart rustling, she bent and with a quick stroke sliced through the laces of first one boot and then the next. They were kicked off, the commotion causing her to rise in the water. Six arms moved, dagger clutched in one hand and all her others yearning for the clutch of something solid, anything solid that was not the slick, hulking beast that had destroyed their day.

[Colombina]

Izdihar reached and her slick fingers slipped as something bobbed out of her constricting hand. She fell slowly, illuminated in the tones of the half living- blues, gray and white. Above her was a new sun, it trembled and hesitated along the surface of the water and round her was a new quiet. The sea dampened the claps and cracks of ungainly bodies, transmuting all into beings fluid and flown. Her last bubble of exhaled air warbled out of her mouth, shimmering like a drop of mercury. What wondrous calm. Serenity should have boiled away by now, but something was pressing on her from without. It soothed and consoled, saying she had done a fine job so far, but it would be taking things on from here. Izdihar felt her dagger plucked from her hand, and a confident arm about her demure waist. Up she and Andrick went together. His right boot dropped beneath them, now an alien artifact for fish to inhabit and coral to creep over. They broke the surface and air healed the desperation Izdihar now realized was present in her head and chest. Andrick treaded water as he crossed Izdihar’s chest with his bandaged arm and pulled her back against him. His manners were unnaturally calm. Moving boxes, cutting a roast, fleeing a shark, it all evoked the same look of dutiful concentration. The expression that made him look simpleminded in other scenarios, now conveyed orderly thoughts. “Try to float on your back, milady.” With the beautiful West Winder tucked against him, he made slow powerful stroked towards a buoyant scrap of what had once been cargo on their pleasure boat. “Grab hold, milady.” He half slumped her body over a small mostly empty barrel of beer that once sat in the shaded center of the boat. The irony of the situation was not lost on Izdihar. Behind them the craft was unraveling; the braids of reeds snapping and sundering around the gaping hole. The vessel’s bow slumped and its aft lurched under the weight of water. After making predatory circles, the shark had lunged through the water at the sinking wreckage. It took hold again and thrashed with fins cutting above the water. Its limber body curled with quick, snapping motions as it tore another dissatisfying piece loose. Convinced of the inedibility of this slow creature, the shark submerged into the paths the trio could not see. Andrick was partially towing Izdihar, his steady face cast towards Subira. His bandages were sodden, betraying patches of malformed skin on his arms. Despite his slow stroke, they reached near Subira. “Milady!” The servant meant the South Winder this time, his perpetual courtesy was proving confusing in crisis. Izdihar was pushed towards her new companion. Their “captain” could steer this tiny vessel now. “Go—“ The end of the request was swallowed with water, as Andrick was pulled from sight, and Izdihar’s dagger with him. As they looked back on their lives, the women would recall the chime it took to reach the rocks of the Librum as one of the longest of their lives.

[Subira]

A sudden, startling shock of recognition jolted through Subira when the rapidly sinking Izdihar raised her voice and admitted that she couldn't swim. Her movements through the water slowed as the insistent memory made her forget where she was for a moment and even overcame her fear of a shark attack. Ever since she had seen the name "Izdihar" on that slip of paper this morning, Subira couldn't shake the feeling that the name was oddly familiar and that she must have encountered this lady before. Yet, no matter how much she'd searched her memory, she hadn't been able to dredge up more than an image of a little girl's face. Now, though, the three words "I can't swim" from Izdihar's lips ignited a train of memories that made her remember exactly who Izdihar was. "Izzy!" she cried aloud in astonished recognition. Still treading water and clutching her oar, she laughed aloud. "Oh, of course! Izdihar...Izzy. No wonder!" For a moment, she was seven years old again and standing at the edge of the Souths' private docks at the bay, with her sister Tesha tagging along behind her. Beside her, pretty Izzy from the West Winds was shaking her head and telling her that no, she didn't want to go into the water because she couldn't swim and anyway, she didn't want to ruin her nice new clothes. Winking at Tesha, Subira had reached down into the water and splashed a handful onto Izzy's bright silks. She remembered hooting with laughter to see the well-bred mask melt from Izzy's features as she whirled and started furiously splashing her back. Even Tesha had joined in the game, spraying them both with water until they started chasing after her. They had returned home in the dusk dripping wet and breathless from shouting, laughing, and playing tag along the docks. In the present moment, a wave splashed Subira full in the face, and she smiled as the taste of salt in her mouth echoed the memory of Izzy giggling triumphantly as she hit Subira full in the face with a double handful of water. It was indeed no wonder that she kept thinking of a young girl when she heard the name Izdihar. With her memories coming clear, Subira recalled a thousand other incidents where they played together, whispered secrets to each other, and explored their House grounds. They had been playmates in childhood, despite the Souths' ill-concealed contempt for the West Winds' pretentious, high-society ways. It was strange that they would meet again like this. Now, with Andrick swallowed by the water, Subira laboriously swam toward Izdihar as she clung to a floating beer barrel. The human slave had done his duty well and died as nobly as any House guardsman. If they made it through this crisis, Subira vowed she would recommend to the captain of her House's guard that Andrick be given a true guardsman's funeral for helping to save Izdihar from drowning. First, though, they had to make it to the Librum, before either of them could start making any plans for the future. "Izzy! Izzy!" Subira called to the West Winds lady. She poked the barrel with one end of her oar. "Grab hold of this, and I'll...I'll..." She looked doubtfully from the barrel to the Librum docks. Subira was fairly certain she was a better swimmer than Andrick was, but she knew she didn't have the human slave's monstrous strength. He would have been able to tow Izdihar back to the Librum, but she wasn't sure she could manage it. Her grip tightened on the oar. No one else was going to die on her watch, especially not someone who used to be a playmate and friend. "I'll drag us to the docks if it kills me," Subira finished. Her voice softened as she looked at the lovely, dripping woman, so different and yet so reminiscent of the sopping-wet girl-child on the docks over twenty years ago. "Izzy," she repeated. "Izzy, I remember you. I can't believe you still haven't learned to swim after all this time," she added, attempting to sound teasing and playful. "I promise, if we get through this, I'm going to make you learn, and no mere shark is going to make you come close to drowning again."

[Izdihar]

Relief should have thrust through belly and limbs at the cinching of Andrick's arm about her waist; but instead it wafted, an almost dreaming haze having settled over her. It was not until her head broke the surface, lungs starving for air, that desperation made itself evident, reminding her with a hacking cough that dribbled water from her mouth. It was, perhaps, not her loveliest moment. Grasping hands closed about the beer barrel, a bubble of laughter rising from the very pit o her stomach as she clung and gulped, too grateful for words. She smiled though, a shining, damp miracle of a thing at her savior. It was in that moment Andrick waspulled away from her, slipped beneath the surface by the beast that had taken their boat. Abruptly, Izdihar thought of the girl, the little girl who had thrown chum into the waters and had shivered on a raft. Her arm slipped on the barrel, lowering her further a few inches while her heart beat too hard and Subira's voice called, speaking the pet name of childhood. Izdihar had not forgotten. "Andrick!" She shrieked, but it was too late and she impotent. It was the same story, a thrice told tale. Water splashed and the sun pulsed too cruelly, causing her to squint at the Southwinder as the oar poked out. She grabbed hold, wanting out of these waters, blistering earth firm beneath her almost as badly as she wanted anything. "I'm never going into the water again," she told Subira. "You'll have to teach me to swim in air." A flutter of laughter, a kick of feet. She tried to assist, tried to not drown all the while casting looks behind her, fear of the shark and fear for Andrick, the child. The swim to the dock felt an eternity.

[Colombina]

The water slipped into their mouths and eyes, bringing tears without meaning and a sudden searing bitterness on their tongues. When they pulled against the sea, it held fast and bid them stay. New weight was added to their limbs and into their thoughts crept a feverish dread of what filled the dark hollow beneath them. Come evening, when they finally slept again, their skin would remember that rhythm, the tugging of tides washing over weary bodies. From the surface of the water, the Librum was a mountain and its arch a mouth slowly closing. The rickety raft was abandoned and there was no sign of the student. Whether this was her choice or the crocodile's was unknown. The "docks" of the Librum was a sloping ledge of stone, a cliff into the water. It was treacherously sharp with barnacles and black clusters of mussels. At the end of the steep path was the partially hidden door to the perilous stairs. Attempts to open it showed it was currently locked. This seemed of meager consequence until the women noticed the rising tide. They had time, but how long?

[Subira]

Subira had thought that, once they reached the rocks at the Librum's feet, she and Izdihar would be safe. How wrong she was! If she were not so bone-weary, so single-mindedly focused on survival, she would have cursed their ill luck to be shipwrecked at the Librum, rather than near the South Winds' bay or the Pressorah's floating palace. The two of them had reached the docks and managed to climb a little ways out of the water, but the waves were rising noticeably and would swallow them as mercilessly as they had already swallowed Andrick. As it was, her arms ached from the effort of hauling herself and Izdihar toward the Librum rocks, and blood ran freely from her hands and legs from scrabbling up the rough, barnacle-encrusted ledge. Now and again, saltwater lapped against the ledge and ran into Subira's myriad cuts, causing her to gasp at the stinging agony. For a moment, she didn't even notice the thin trails of red trickling from her legs, until a small movement in the shadowy deep made her think of the shark. She looked at her hands, then at the water, and back at her hands. This would never do. Clinging grimly to the steep ledge, Subira cautiously leaned down to tear strips of linen from the hem of her sheath to serve as bandages. Her sandals were missing, and she noticed detachedly that her feet were bleeding as well. The fine, pleated fabric ripped easily between her determined hands. Before long, her dress was shredded in several places from hem to knee and Subira was rapidly wrapping the wet linen around her equally torn skin. The cuts and nicks still stung mightily, but at least they weren't bleeding right into the water. The last thing they needed was to draw the predators back toward them; they had done enough damage to Subira, Izdihar, and Andrick. A rueful thought about how her mother would scold her for mangling her dress made Subira think about the other Souths who had taken part in the impromptu race. How could she have forgotten them? They shouldn't feel nearly so alone here at the Librum, not when Uncle Harpenres had offered a dozen mizas to those who reached its docks. Certainly, she and Andrick had plowed past them during the race, but even so, the others should have reached the Librum by now! Where were they? "Izzy, watch for the others," she instructed the West Winds woman. "The other pilots and passengers who were supposed to be rehearsing with us. They should be here by now, or at least someone should have noticed that we had gone missing." She balled two fists at her sides in momentary frustration. "Someone should care enough for that, shouldn't they?" Clenching her teeth, Subira shook her head. Impulsively, she tore more shreds from her dress, leaving short tatters around her legs. Giving a handful of wet linen strips to Izdihar, she went on, "Anyway, if you see someone coming, call out to them and wave these to get their attention. Or better yet, use your shawl. It's bright, so it'll stand out more in the water." She looked back toward the well-concealed door that led inside the Librum. "And if you have any ideas on how to get us out of here, I'm open to suggestions. Until then, I'll...I'll..." Subira faltered there, unable to end the sentence with anything worthwhile. It was so hard to think at all when her arms ached, her hands stung, and her throat was parched. She wished ardently that someone else were there to help them, to give her orders and relieve her of the burden of decision-making for a little while. Uncle Harpenres, or her father, or her older brother Iriei... Yes, Iriei would know what to do with some strips of linen, an empty beer barrel, and an oar when trapped on a bare rock with the tide rising high and predators circling close by. "I'll help you," she finished lamely. "I'll wave the oar and shout until my lungs are raw. If no one comes, I swear I'll...I'll tear off more pieces of my dress to make us a sling or something and lash us to this thrice-damned rock until another initiate comes out and sees us. I'll pound on the door until it caves in." She turned her face to the sea, her profile clear and keen against the background of the sea. "Surely, someone would notice that we're here, wouldn't they? Someone besides that shark, or that crocodile."