Outlanders

Chapter 8: Under banyan tree

ABIDA

LUBDENSTADT

OLD REPUBLIC

I leave my outlander housing unit an hour after midnight in my darkest clothing, a satchel across my back. I stay on the side streets and alleys as much as I can on my way to the park, where the trees will provide cover until I reach the Elbe river and the edge of the Cherny forest, where I'll find the plants we need. Bloodroot for red on the banks of the river, nettles for green if I'm lucky. Despite the mild evening I wear my gloves - bloodroot juice is toxic enough to burn the hands, and fatal if you drink enough of it. Not that anyone in his right mind would want to drink it anyway - it doesn't smell actively bad, but that doesn't mean it smells good either. My feet fall into a familiar rhythm, the steps following the pulse of my headache, beating like a drum against my skull. Unsung words rise to my lips, almost escaping before I stop myself.

Mi deh rock so

You deh rock so

Under banyan tree

The words repeat themselves in a refrain despite my efforts to concentrate on my surroundings to block them out. Citizens call songs earworms when they won't leave your head. But how can I have trapped an earworm when I don't even know where I've heard it before? I've no idea what a banyan tree is, and yet the lyric is there, repeating itself to my headache with the image of something I've never seen before. I hear a sound behind me and freeze. I can see the entrance to the park just 200 meters away, but a main thoroughfare with no cover at all stands between us. A part of me wants to run for the cover of the park, but the rational part of my mind knows that will only draw more attention to myself. I slowly lower down into a crouch at the edge of a building facing the park and the bridge. The park is a calculated risk. Due to its proximity to the bridge and the citizen neighborhoods on the other side of the river, the area before the park is more patrolled than the rest of the outlander neighborhoods. But it is also the only covered route to the forest; on the citizen side of the river, the path is cleared of trees to preserve the river views and left empty of housing in case of flooding. Nobody cares about the park's trees blocking the view on the outlander side - lucky us.

I take deep, calming breaths, motionless in my crouch. Sure enough, a two man patrol makes its way across the bridge toward me. They haven't seen me yet, but the closer they get the higher my chance of exposure. I force myself to remain completely motionless and focus on keeping my breaths as silent as possible. They are more than halfway across the bridge when a sudden sound comes from the street perpendicular to mine- a brusque sound, like metal falling against metal. The patrol turns toward the sound and picks up into a run, clubs in hand. In their haste they run past me without taking notice, following the other street. I'm not sure I'll have another chance tonight, so after a few minutes of waiting for the sound of their boots beating the pavement to fade I make my move. Half-crouching, I run as silently as possible and don't look back until I've reached the trees of the park by the river. Whatever caused that sound may have saved my life tonight, god willing. I promise myself I'll use my second chance well, and move forward through the trees with a racing heart.

DUVAL

CHERNY FOREST

OLD REPUBLIC

It's a risk to go to the river but with the new moon tonight I'm willing to take it. I'm sick of washing my face in a shallow, muddy stream and more than sick of washing my clothes in it, too. The fresh, clear water of the river will do me good. In Jemya Province we are never far from water, and I miss the smell of salt brine despite myself. The Old Republic's Elbe river is a poor substitute for the ocean, but she's all I've got.

When I left camp Sedar didn't bother reproaching me, and instead said all he had to say in a glance. With the power of his gaze sometimes I wonder if he's extracted and mastered some tongue of the eyes, a language for wordmages without sound. After all, he won't tell anybody how many tongues he's mastered. When I found the courage to sate my curiosity and ask once, "Pride bein' sin," was his only response. The man's probably got more magewords than normal words in his head, and won't share them with a soul.

Sedar isn't given much to talking, and much less to praise so his response was no surprise. For an outlander raised without any knowledge of wordmages, I think my five successful extractions are pretty damn good. But god forbid Sedar speak a word of praise to me. Pride bein' sin, and all. Without Zola to break the tension the company of Sedar can be overwhelming. His silence and perfection are suffocating, especially when I can do nothing but worry about Zola's mission. She's all I've got left of Jemya Province and the New Republic, my home. With each step though the dark underbrush of the Cherny forest I put all of my weight on the balls of my feet and slowly descend my heels, stopping and stepping elsewhere at the merest sound of dead leaves, silent as possible. Raised without wordmages or no, this, at least, is second nature to me. Slipping out into the forest at night, quiet as death, the night sounds surrounding me. Even in Jemya Province my skin is darker than most, and my mother used to say she dipped me in midnight when I was a babe to keep me safe at night. I made use of my "powers" often as a child, sneaking out at night, crossing the swath of forest between our house and the beach. I didn't realize until I was much older that being "dipped in midnight" didn't make me special, or give me powers like she made me believe. It makes me an outlander, clear and simple - and even amongst outlanders, the more you look like a citizen, the better.

Lost in my thoughts, I hear the river before i see it. On my bank the trees reach over, roots occasionally spilling out into the water. The forest continues on the opposite bank, but the trees are less dense. I take off my shirt and pants at the water's edge and ease myself slowly into the current, the chill of the water raising goosebumps along my arms. I should wash my clothes first and set them out to dry, but I can't resist the dark water. They say that in the Jemya Province we learn to swim before we can walk, and maybe that's true. With the water up to my chest I push off the bank with my legs and release myself backward into the river, face to the sky, floating on my back. The water ripples around me and I feel calm for the first time in days. The five tongues inside of me are not fighting for space, magewords nearly rising to overpower me. They are now under calm waters, flowing together as a part of me. The night has always been a safe place for me, and I feel myself slowly relax despite Sedar's training. In the night waters of the Old Republic I find echoes of home. That's why I think I've only imagined the muttered singing at first. The sheer impossibility of it - a song of my island.

Moon shine tonight

Come mek we dance an sing

I almost mutter the line in repetition when in shock I realize the sound is real. I sink lower into the water and move closer to my bank of the river, listening.

Mi deh rock so

You deh rock so

Under banyan tree

The sound is coming from the bank across from me, and moving closer. I almost don't see her when she comes into my line of sight, crouching low to the opposite bank, stepping periodically and reaching down. She is absorbed in some task, repeating the same song to herself.

In the darkness I can just make out a form with long hair tied back in a thick braid, the sound of her voice softly released, somewhere between humming and song. The forest is forbidden even to citizens at night, the presence of wolves almost as deterring as the patrols of citizen protection units. Something tells me this woman is not a part of a patrol - the improbability of a song of my island sung in the Cherny forest is one thing; the improbability of a citizen patrol unit singing it is too absurd even to imagine.

Oddly enough, her movements are completely silent, with only the sound of her voice betraying her presence. Does she even realize the danger she's put herself in?