The Drowning City - Amanda Downum [115]
The river was different here. The Mir she knew was soft-voiced, relentless but gentle, deep and dangerous but not angry. The water behind the dam raged and surged, pushing against her prison, constantly searching for a way out, a way free. She tasted of stone and snowmelt, carried dizzying images of falls and cataracts, of soaring mountains and jagged crags and the distant lands beyond them.
Zhirin closed her eyes and listened, let the river’s voice fill her, let her intentions spill out. She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, but when she opened her eyes again the eastern sky had begun to gray and she knew what she needed to do.
“I’m no engineer,” Asheris said when she returned to the bank, “but I think we can manage to open the floodgates.”
Zhirin shook her head. “It’s not enough. She wants freedom. Can you break the dam?”
He and Isyllt looked at each other, dark face and white wearing identical frowns.
“I can find the faults,” Isyllt said at last, “but I’m too weak to do much else.” Her mouth twisted at the admission.
Asheris smiled wryly. “Show them to me and I can exploit them. This is a day of breaking bonds.”
“And everything else,” muttered Isyllt, touching her swollen lip.
Zhirin stood in the center of the causeway while Asheris and Isyllt went about their work. She couldn’t bear to watch the plumes of ash in the western sky, the rain of cinders; instead she bent her head and let the river’s dark thoughts fill her.
She knew what was needed. What was demanded. It was a much lower price than the mountain had claimed. And when she thought of her city burning behind her, of Jabbor’s forests, it was easy to agree.
He would understand, she thought. And even if he didn’t, this was better. Her love of the river was older than her feelings for him, older than her desire for the cunning sorceries of the Kurun Tam. Still, she was glad she’d known both. Even glad she’d met Isyllt, when she thought about it. Gladder still to know that she wouldn’t grow as cold and heartless.
She searched in her purse, found the wooden comb Suni had given her. It took a moment to free her braids; ash and bits of leaves fluttered loose. As soon as the teeth touched her hair the water answered, waves rising and strengthening. Somewhere in the churning depths in front of her she felt spirits stir, glimpsed pale mottled faces and long weed-green hair.
Sister, they called. Sisterdaughtermotherriver.
“We’re ready,” Isyllt called soon after. “Get clear.”
“No.” The strength of her voice surprised her. “This is where I need to be.”
She saw understanding in their faces. “Are you sure?” Isyllt’s voice was much gentler than she’d ever heard before.
“You don’t have to,” Asheris said. Not arguing or pleading, and she was grateful for it.
“No. But this will be best.”
The lake surged and roiled, waves crashing against stone, high enough that their spray slicked her face. The voices of the reed-maidens filled her head.
“I’m ready,” she told them. “Do it.”
Asheris and Isyllt clasped hands, and she felt the magic gathering beneath her. She waved once in farewell, then turned back to the waiting water.
“Mother,” she whispered, and wasn’t sure if she meant Fei Minh or the Mir. Her hands tightened on the railing, rust scraping her palms. No, that wasn’t the way. She inhaled a damp breath, blew out her fear as the lower dam crumbled with a roar.
The causeway shattered.
She raised her arms and opened them to the oncoming wall of water. It hurt for an instant, as the impact broke her limbs, drove shards of rib into her lungs, but the river took the pain.
The river took everything.
Chapter 21
Dark and fast, the river runs, thick with flotsam—jagged stone and bits of iron spinning in the current before they sink into the mud; a girl’s shattered body; a daughter’s soul cradled in her mother’s arms. Water rushes over the banks. Spirits ride the surge, ecstatic in their freedom.
The river rages, decades of anger unleashed, tempered by a daughter’s grief, a daughter’s hope. A daughter’s bargain.
The mountain shakes, heaving the river in