The Drowning City - Amanda Downum [38]
The door creaked softly and her hand neared her knife hilt. Riuh Xian ducked his head into the room.
“Good, you’re awake.” He’d washed the ashes from his hair and replaited his beaded braids. In better light he was younger than she’d thought, not far past twenty.
“What time is it?”
“Nearly noon. You missed breakfast.”
She wrinkled her nose at the thought; last night’s feast still sat heavy in her stomach.
He tossed a folded bundle to her. “Grandmother says I’m to take you to Cay Lin, if you wish.”
“I know the way.” It came out harsher than she meant, and he began to turn away. “But I don’t mind the company. Thank you.”
She bathed in the clan bathhouse and dressed in hunter’s clothes—calf-length trousers and loose tunic under a snug vest. In traditional clothes, she was suddenly aware of her shorn hair. Practical, but out of place among clansfolk’s long beaded braids. Such a ridiculous thing to worry about, but she tugged a cap over the damp spikes anyway.
A group of girls led by Riuh’s lovely cousin Phailin left the village for the stream and Xinai and Riuh went with them, ducking quietly into the woods along the way. No telling how many eyes the Khas had watching Cay Xian.
They crossed the stream—a narrow tributary of the Mir, but wide enough to survive the dry season—and headed northeast toward Lin lands. They walked in silence, but she felt Riuh watching her. She tried to ignore it, to ignore the way his hand lingered on her arm when he helped her up steep slopes and over fallen trees. Think of Adam, she told herself, think of the job, but the forest swallowed such things, filled her head with warmth and jade-colored light and the smell of sap and earth.
She nearly missed the marker. The stone had fallen, half-covered by mud and vines. Crouching, Xinai brushed away dirt and leaves, bared the carved bear clan-sign. Cay Lin was only a league away. Whatever was left of it.
Riuh stopped, wiping a thin sheen of sweat off his brow. “Would you rather go on alone?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
“I’ll be here.”
He didn’t tell her to be careful and she liked him more for that. She smiled, quick and clumsy, then turned and began to climb the bramble-choked slope that led to the village.
The woods weren’t empty; all around she felt watchful eyes. Not soldiers, but ghosts and spirits. Her charms shivered around her neck. Wise to be gone from here before nightfall, though the thought galled. She should have nothing to fear on her family’s lands.
Should or not, she knew she did. Many spirits resented human incursion into their lands, or simply found them good eating. And a clever spirit was more cunning than a tiger when it came to stalking prey, and had more than claws and teeth to bring it down.
Trails were long overgrown, landmarks reclaimed by the jungle, and it took her more than an hour to reach the stone walls. The sight of them struck like a blow in the pit of her stomach and she stumbled to a stop.
The wooden gates had rotted away, only a few moss-riddled timbers fallen in the opening. Vines crawled the walls, crumbling the arches. Wind rustled the leaves of the canopy and spears of light danced across the ground.
Cay Lin. The clan-heart. Her home. Home to nothing but ghosts now.
She crossed her arms to still her shivering, then forced them down again. Lifting her chin, Xinai stepped through the ruined gate.
The emptiness was a solid thing, a weight in her chest. Nothing dwelled here, not even animals. Shutterless windows stared like accusing black eyes; she couldn’t meet their gaze. Somewhere in these leaf-choked streets was her house, the houses of her friends, the shops they’d frequented. The well she’d drawn water from, the pool where she’d tossed wishing stones—dried now. She saw no bones, though she could still remember where the bodies of her kin had lain untended.