The crowd gasped. Even some of the militia looked unsettled. The third degree meant Tir and his wives, their children and children’s spouses, and their children’s children would be banished. Ahkio held up a hand for quiet.
“You have an apprentice,” Ahkio said. “Where is she?”
“Here,” said a woman from the crowd around the council house. She was broad and tall as Tir. Hazel eyes, a bit of a squint. Ahkio had looked up her name before they arrived. She looked nothing like her grandmother.
“You’re Shisa’s granddaughter,” Ahkio said.
“Yes. My mother was clan leader before Tir.”
“Will you sit with me in Osono as clan leader of Garika?”
“Don’t you–” Tir began. He stepped forward.
Three dozen militia drew three dozen glowing blades. Ohanni and Shanigan and the other Oras raised their hands, and the air in the square grew heavy. Ahkio knew the Oras’ stance was a ruse; they would not unleash Para on their own people. But the heft of the air made a strong statement.
Tir grunted. “You leave me with no choices.”
“You already chose,” Ahkio said. “When you murdered my sister.”
Yisaoh sneered at him and pointed with her cigarette. “You listen, you arrogant fool. Kirana’s messes were her own. You were off fucking sheep in Osono for years. What do you know what happened with Kirana, what promises were made? We did not touch your sister.”
“Only innocent novices and Ghrasia Madah’s fresh-faced militia, then?” Ahkio said. “You only murdered youths drawn from your neighboring clans?”
“There is a great assumption here,” Tir said. “You assume my sons acted-”
“Don’t lie to me in your own square while the bodies of your sons lie next to us.”
“You’re a fool boy.”
“A lot of old people tell me that,” Ahkio said, “usually when they fear me most.” His other hand had begun to tremble. He stuffed that one, too, into his tunic pocket.
“Why isn’t my youngest here, Kihin? Let him at least look his mothers in the face before you cast us off to Saiduan.”
“Kihin’s fate won’t take him to Dorinah,” Ahkio said. “Ora Dasai has agreed to take him to Saiduan on a mission of importance to Dhai.”
“You mean he’ll be your hostage,” Tir said.
“If you step away peaceably, you can make a life with him in Saiduan, when he’s finished his task for me,” Ahkio said.
“You’ve overstepped. They’ll make us slaves in Saiduan!”
“Would you rather he was lying here?” Ahkio asked.
Tir’s wife Alais put her hand on Tir’s elbow. A moment, no more. She was a solid woman, not yet fifty. Tir did not look at her.
“The militia waits on your decision,” Ahkio said. “Half a dozen will escort you and your family from Dhai. Whether they must do so forcibly is up to you.”
“You ask me to casually choose the course of my life. My children’s lives. It is a decision I cannot make in a moment, a day, a month. I need time.”
“You don’t have it,” Ahkio said.
Alais said, “We will step away peacefully.”
“Alais–” Tir said.
“We will step away,” she said. “He brings us our dead sons and keeps our youngest with his Oras. Do you see another path? I did not birth my sons, nor raise that of my sisters, to see them slaughtered now.”
“It has always been their decision–”
“Shush,” Alais said.
Ahkio felt Yisaoh’s burning black gaze on him but did not look at her. A single man or woman did not make a decision his family did not support, not in Dhai. There were too many family ties to consider. Kin were too close. Tir had not acted on his own. At the very least, his spouses supported and encouraged the actions their sons and daughter took. That’s why it had to be an exile to the third degree… even if it included people Ahkio wished it did not.
Ahkio nodded to Tir’s apprentice. “I will see you in Osono,” he said.
Ahkio held out his hand to Tir. He could not stop the trembling, and he cursed himself for it, but he held the hand there, a last gesture of goodwill.
“Don’t look at me, boy,” Tir said. “Your mother twisted this country, and your sister was blinded to what’s coming. My family’s known for years what we faced, while you relied on some foreigner to come here and set you right. You march Oras and our own militia into Garika, two forces that have never been given leave to work together. You defile your own Book. I will not speak your name again.”
Tir turned into the council house.
His wives followed. Yisaoh made to do the same, but Ahkio stopped her. “Not yet, Yisaoh.”
“Go soak your head.”
“Would you rather I say this in front of your family?”
She walked down the steps to him. Her mother, Alais, paused in the doorway and watched her.
Ahkio moved away from the house to a barren patch of ground near the rain barrel at the side of the council house. “You know I could have done worse for you.”
“Why? Because I had the heart to stand up to you?”
“Let’s not play. The boy you tried to kill in the temple lived.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The novice you stabbed on the steps of the scullery stair, sneaking around with Ora Almeysia.”
Her look was incredulous. “Don’t insult me.”
“You were in the temple the night my sister died. I have a witness.”
“The night she died?” Yisaoh shook her head. “I wasn’t there. Check the Line records in Garika. I left the next morning, the day I heard word of Kirana’s death. Not before. You think I walked there, attacked some boy, and then walked all the way back – a two-day journey! – only to take the Line the next morning? What, do you think I flew home on the back of a parajista? It’s quite obvious you never taught logic to your little sheep students.”
She made to walk back up the steps.
He grabbed at her sleeve. She jerked her arm away. “Don’t even think about touching me, any part of me. Don’t come within leagues of me.”
“You say you wouldn’t kill a boy, but you were happy to kill me.”
“That wasn’t my preference. Now, if you’ll give me back some measure of my own autonomy, I have things to pack.”
“I’m afraid you can’t go back to your rooms.”
“What?”
“I’ve sent my assistant and a contingent of militia to empty your rooms, and Kirana’s quarters here in Garika as well.”
“You have no right.”
“I have every right. You’ve been exiled.”
She took a pull from her cigarette and regarded him a long moment. “You think you’re clever enough to save this country on your own? You aren’t half so clever as you think. I wish whoever killed Kirana had killed you instead. The country would be better off for it.”
She crushed her cigarette under her heel and walked back into the council house.
Ahkio twisted away stiffly. He paused a moment in front of his bear, then mounted. He looked at the mob in the square. He needed to say something to them. Anything. Instead, he was leaving militia the color of mourning in their square. And he could think of nothing to say to that, nothing that would make it any better.
As he turned his bear about, Liaro rode up beside him. “Could have gone worse,” Liaro said.
“They may kill us yet,” Ahkio said.
“They’ll think about it a lot harder this time.”
“Let’s hope.”
“Did you really mean what you said, about exile to the third degree?” Liaro said.
“Yes.”
“You know who else that means, right?”
“Yes.”
“That includes some of my cousins. It nearly included me,” Liaro said. “And it definitely includes Meyna and Mey-Mey. Rhin and Hadaoh.”
“I know their names, Liaro.”
“Just wanted to make sure you weren’t forgetting.”
“I’m not going to forget.”
They were a sodden, downtrodden group filing into Osono four days later, short a dozen militia members who had stayed behind to escort Tir and his family to the harbor. Caisa had returned with her escort, though, driving a cart full of Yisaoh and Kirana’s belongings, unhurt and fairly crowing at the success of her theft.
Clan Leader Saurika met Ahkio in the Osono square. It was not a market day, so there were few people out to greet them.
Saurika reached for Ahkio’s hands. “Are we kissing now?” Saurika said. “I’d like to welcome you as clan family.”
“I accept,” Ahkio said. He kissed both of the old man’s cheeks.
“Welcome home, Kai,” Saurika said. “Fancy a game before we talk business?”
“I’ve had enough games in Garika,” Ahkio said, and he was surprised when Saurika laughed.
“Welcome to the seat, Kai.” His face grew serious. “You’re here to see Meyna and her husbands.”
“I wanted to tell her myself.”
“Too late for that,” he said. “We had a messenger arrive hours before you.”
“Is Meyna still here?”
“I don’t know if they’ll see you.”
“Let me go with you,” Caisa said, sliding off her bear. Ghrasia had issued her a sword along the way, a plain metal blade, not infused. Ahkio worried she didn’t know how to use it, but she insisted she had taken classes at the temple and was very capable.
“I’m going by myself,” Ahkio said.
“I know Meyna,” Liaro said. “That’s not terribly smart.”
“No wiser than anything else I’ve done,” Ahkio said. “Honestly, both of you. Stay here. This is something I need to do on my own.”
“We’ve had enough funeral feasts!” Liaro called after him.
Ahkio started the long walk to Meyna’s house. He had not slept well since he left, and his pace was sluggish. He did not expect to sleep well for some time. He walked up the spongy ramp to the house. Everything looked the same. He cracked open the door and called, “Meyna? Rhin? Are you home, Hadaoh?”
No answer.
Ahkio pushed open the door.
All was in order. He saw row upon row of carved eating sticks laid out on the table where Meyna had left them. Rhin’s boots, caked with mud from the sheep fields, sat by the back door. Ahkio called into the house again.
He walked onto the back porch. Stared down into the community green behind the house. A dozen children played there, shrieking as they pelted one another with sticky thorn flowers. He saw Mey-Mey sitting away from the group, surrounded by a pool of the purple flowers. She smashed their faces into one another and threw them halfheartedly at the other children.
He recognized big, broad-shouldered Hadaoh speaking to a neighbor across the green. But Rhin and Meyna were nowhere to be seen.
Ahkio walked back into the house, calling for Meyna. He heard movement upstairs. A heavy thumping. He went up the stairs that curved around the inner core of the tree, to the second level of the house.
Meyna stood at a long table in the open room at the center of the second floor. Her hands were covered in black soil. On the table, little semi-sentient orb-blood plants squiggled in the piles of dirt. Meyna brought up a hatchet and severed the red cylindrical head from the stem of one of the plants, then tossed both pieces into a foaming bucket of salt water at her feet. Ahkio had seen her cull the plants before but recognized this as something different. She was murdering all of them.
Meyna glanced up at him, hatchet raised, fingers clasping another wriggling plant. “I wondered how long you’d be,” she said, and brought down the hatchet.
“I hoped you’d still be here. I sent you letters. Did you get them?”
“The Soarina sisters are coming for the plates and Rhin’s unsold ceramics,” Meyna said. “You’d be surprised how much Afara Soarina wants them now that they come so cheaply. But the plants… well, no one wants the plants.”
“The letters, Meyna?”
She laughed. The laugh grew louder and deeper, until she doubled over, clutching her belly. She had to set down the hatchet. “Marry
you
?” she gasped. “After what you just did?”
Despite the hatchet in her hand, he wanted to hold her. He wondered if he was mad for feeling it. But this woman had held him and comforted him. She’d welcomed him into her home, made love to him, done everything but marry him.
“If you’d just answered-”
“You don’t love me or my husbands. You love power,” she said. She held up one of the wriggling plants. “Do you want one? I have thirty, and thirty more after that. Not much use for them where we’re going. They breed like flies in the woodlands. Beautiful but troublesome little things, liable to bite off a hand at maturity. But so sweet before they become deadly.”
“They killed my sister, Meyna.”
“You know that isn’t true. Is that what Ora Nasaka told you?”
“Yisaoh was seen in the temple–”
She lay down the hatchet. Leaned toward him. Her face softened. “It doesn’t have to be this way,” she said. “Come with us, Ahkio. Ora Nasaka is turning you into something horrible. I do want to marry you, Ahkio, but I don’t want some Ora’s puppet. Give your title to some other scheming madwoman.”
Ahkio’s heart raced. How long had he waited to hear her propose? Years. The dying plants wriggled on the table. He saw her hand covered in their sap. She knew what he wanted. She had always known. She offered it now because she’d run out of options. The more Dhai talked of love, the more all he could see was politics.
“It’s too late for that, Meyna.”
“Let me give you a piece of advice, Ahkio,” Meyna said. “Your sister had a good many irons in the fire. She was obsessed with that temple and kept you out of it for a reason. She asked me to take you into my home. And I did come to care for you, Ahkio. I did. But I can tell you that whatever she was doing there had nothing to do with the Garikas and everything to do with her own obsessions. Be careful you don’t become just like her.”
“Kai?” someone called from downstairs. Ahkio recognized Caisa’s voice.
“Here,” Ahkio said.
Caisa mounted the steps. She had one hand on the hilt of her sword. She eyed Meyna’s hatchet.