The Burning Ground

Chapter 11

On the fourth day after leaving the village, the Shishim Remnant left sand and sawgrass behind and found a road heading north. As Wintshikan stepped onto the worn paving, she sighed with relief-at last some solid land that didn’t slide away from under her feet and slip into her sandals until each step was a punishment. Never mind that she’d walked mountain trails for sixty years now; her knees hurt, and there was an ache in the place between her shoulder blades that she couldn’t reach.

No more swarms of black biters that lifted off the sawgrass and drank the sweat on her arms and face, walking over her sticky skin with their tiny tickling feet until she wanted to scream.

This was open land like the Meeting Grounds. Fields with small herds of maphiks and zincos grazing under the eyes of mallits and femlits. Flocks of small dark maphabirds following the beasts and pecking at the droppings. It squeezed her heart to see those familiar things here in the lowlands she despised.

The paving was cracked, even crumbled in places, square flags of stone held together with a dark tarry substance. The jomayls’ hooves click-clacked loudly on that stone. Their red eyes flickered in the sunlight, and one after the other they announced their pleasure at the footing with drawn-out nasal honks; they’d liked slogging through the sand even less than she had.

A breeze touched her face, cool air with a touch of brine, stirring the heart-shaped leaves in a small grove of young vevezz a short distance ahead, turning them over so the silver sides caught the sunlight, letting them fall again so they shimmered from pale green to silver and back again.

Kanilli rode one of the pack jomayls, Zaro was slumped on the back of another; she was miserable, covered with welts from the biters. The last time Wintshikan had checked on her, she’d been running a slight fever, but she’d become angry when Xaca wanted them to stop so she could tend her daughter. “I hate this place,” she said. “If I have to crawl, I’ll keep going.”

Luca and Wann rode ahead of them, talking energetically, guiding their jomayls with the balance of their bodies, looking as wild and unconfined as the sea birds that soared overhead.

We’re not even a Remnant now, Wintshikan thought, not Pixa at all; we’re turning into something else, and I don’t know what it is.

Would it have been better to stay on the Round and fall at the hands of the Imps where at least they’d know who they were, what they were? Would it have been better to hold more tightly to the bond with God and let One harvest them, set them aside to be reborn into the Company of the Faithful? I want things to be like they were, she thought, I want to know what I’m meant to do. Her eyes burned with tears-which made her angry with herself, then angry with God for allowing this. Which appalled her so much, she tried to wipe the thought away with her tears as she scrubbed her sleeve across her face.

Zell leaned down to stroke Wintshikan’s hair. Xe was riding.a packer jomayl, but xe was all the gear it carried. Xe’s joints had suffered in the passage through the edges of the salt marsh, and xe could no longer walk because something had gone wrong with xe’s hip. Even riding meant endless grinding pain, but xe never complained nor would xe permit Wintshikan to hold the Remnant in camp longer than necessary. +I can rest when we reach Linojin+, xe signed. +And I’d certainly rather ride than scratch+.

By mid-afternoon the Remnant was moving through a patchwork of small farms, the land intensely tilled, some plots with vegetables, berries, and fruit trees growing together, three levels of crops ripening at the same time. There were more people working in those fields than Wintshikan had seen since the last Grand Gather.

Her heart ached again when she looked at them. They were lightly clad because it was a very warm day, so she could see that they were unarmed except for cultivators and pruning shears. Not a single rifle anywhere. No guards, no fences, no watchchals. It isn’t fair, she thought, it isn’t right that life on the far side of the mountains should be so terrible, and here so peaceful that those folk don’t care that we’re strangers. No guns, no guards, no walls, yet they’re calm and contented, at ease with the world. It just isn’t fair. They ought to feel some kind of guilt for their good fortune, they should lower their eyes when we go past and be ashamed because they have so much while we’ve lost everything.

By mid-morning on the next day there was a dark blot visible on the northern horizon. At first Wintshikan thought it was a cloud though there wasn’t a wisp in the rest of the sky, but as the hours slid away, the blot turned into shining white walls and dark green foliage with the patchy browns and grays of a fishing village obscuring part of it. The coast curved closer to the road so the ocean was visible again in the west, a shattered blue so brilliant that her eyes hurt looking at it.

When they were close enough to make out the sails of the fishboats out in the bay, the road turned suddenly eastward, curving away from the city. Luca and Wann rode a short distance along the curve, then turned and came trotting back.

Luca dropped her hands on her thighs, scowled down at Wintshikan. “I don’t know what to do,” she said. “The closer we get, the more I don’t want to go in there.” She nodded at the Pilgrim Road half a mile off. “Look at them there. Walking. What’re we supposed to do with these?” She dug the fingers of one hand in the roached mane of her jomayl and scratched vigorously, drawing a mooing moan of pleasure. Her face hardened as she glanced over her shoulder at the city. “Walls,” she said, then shivered.

Wintshikan brushed her hand across her eyes. She’d drifted out of the habit of leadership on the difficult walk north from that village, ceding its problems and pleasures to Luca.

Zell touched her arm and tried to give her the Heka’s Shawl, but she shook her head. That was done with now. It was sad, it meant that all the past was really gone now, but at the same time it was almost a relief to acknowledge the passing. She straightened her shoulders.

“Hm. I’ve heard they don’t allow weapons inside Linojin, so-Luca, why don’t you and Wann take the gear and the jomayls except the one Zell’s riding to that village over there. See if you can find a place where to stay. Nyen, you and Hidan go with them, no telling what kind of thieves live there. Xaca, I want you to come with us and mind the children.”

Xaca nodded, but Kanilli wasn’t pleased at all with this division. “Ahee, Heka, I want to go with Luca and Wann.”

“Quiet, Kanli, you help your mother take care of your cousin. I don’t want to hear any more nonsense out of you.” She rubbed her thumb across her chin. “I mean to see the Anyas of Mercy about Zell and about Zaro’s bites. Don’t know how long that will take to set up. I… hm yes,. I don’t like the thought of walls either. Soon as we can, we’ll join you. That sound all right?”

Luca smiled, the grin that lit up her face and gave her the charm her usual sullen stone face denied her. “Sounds real good,” she said. “Kanilli, you keep on whining like that and for all I care, the Heka can leave you with the Anyas of Mercy, maybe they can teach you some manners. Now, move your little butt and help Zaro down, get her up behind Zell.”

Wintshikan stood a while, watching the four ride off across the open grassland, then she shook her head and started walking toward the Pilgrim Road, Xaca quiet beside her, a sulky Kanilli stumping at her side, the lead reins of the jomayl clutched in her fist.