Stolen (Magi Rising Book 1) Read online

  “I understood Rull to mean that everyone gave an equal effort to keep Pûleêr running smoothly,” he said, wiping the sheen of sweat from his brow. He took another deep breath, but the short fight apparently hadn’t winded him. He jerked his chin toward me and said, “Pretty much what you just said.”

  His blue eyes were wary as though he was unsure of what I might do. I wasn’t insane; nothing was going to make me fight him. However, to say he’d won my friendship with the fight would be an oversimplification. He didn’t have my trust, but I respected his ethics. I nodded my agreement. “That was my understanding,” I said. “If anyone spits seeds in the mud, someone is going to have to pull the plants up later. And I was told that the bûyî shows up in areas previously cleared, then grown over and cleared again.”

  “Anyone want to tell us differently?” he asked, his lip curling in a sneer. No one else was stupid enough to challenge him, and he gave a curt nod and announced, “Then everyone knows what they should be doing.”

  Several people shuffled into action, and I opened my mouth to tell him thanks.

  “What the fetid rot?” Esi hollered.

  My gratitude dried up as I spotted her running toward us on the perimeter road, her golden hair flowing behind her, and the lush jungle on her left side, the leaves rustling as she passed. Esi’s flushed face was contorted with anger.

  I tore my gaze from her and glanced around at the group—seeing what Esi would.

  Rot.

  15

  Three of the four young men were still unconscious. Rumi and another young female were kneeling by Teso—the third to go down. Six members of our unit stood rooted to the ground, eyes wide, still staring at Svîk. A few other magî were yanking up plants, some actually making an effort to clear the undercanopy’s new growth, others just stripping the leaves from the stalks. Their pathetic attempt made it apparent they hadn’t been working to restrict the growth possibly ever since the rules of Pûleêr had changed.

  “What happened?” Esi growled, fixing Svîk with a glare. “What did you do?”

  “They started it,” I said. “Pilk threw the first punch.”

  She turned her wrath on me. “Why would he do that?”

  I understood the implication—much better than I had an hour ago. To attack Svîk bordered on being suicidal. Did the council all know this? I frowned, contemplating if Rull’s placement was intentional. And if so, was Esi’s delay likewise? Were the lot of them that manipulative? The idea didn’t seem so far-fetched. But were they trying to kill Svîk or the lazy magî?

  I watched Esi as I spoke, looking for any indication that she’d known what would happen. “Rumi and Lis were spitting guava seeds into the mud, and Teso and Pilk were throwing fruit at each other. No one was working. I got mad . . .” I inhaled and shrugged. “Svîk said he understood Rull’s instructions the same as me. Pilk offered to give Svîk lessons in manners—I think it was manners.”

  Esi closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.

  “It was manners,” Svîk said, crossing the last couple of feet to my side. “Although there was nothing sincere in his offer.”

  I flinched, nervous to have him at my side and just as nervous with the idea that he could’ve been on the opposing team. As a Serîk he had to be used to some elitist favors.

  Esi opened her eyes and glanced upward at the canopy. She mumbled something about patience as she shook her head before fixing me with her gaze. “I think you’d better go home—”

  “What?” I asked as disbelief punched me in the gut. “What did I do?”

  “Enough,” she said, the golden flecks in her eyes dancing with emotion. “We can talk about it later. And you can stop in the center of Pûleêr and pick up Bizi for tonight.”

  I nodded, frustrated because she was dismissing me, as if this was my fault. Even if she was giving me the day off, the message she sent to the rest of the group was not that we were united, but I was separate, even more than the Serîk.

  “Sure,” I said. I turned to leave and then thought twice about what had happened. “Thanks,” I said to Svîk. “I’m glad to know someone has my back.”

  “Right is right,” he said, jerking his attention from Esi to me, but his brow was still furrowed when he faced me. “It wasn’t a problem.”

  His words and expression didn’t match, and maybe the fight wasn’t a problem—not for him. But apparently, it was for me. I took a couple steps on the perimeter road, feeling the resentful stares of the members of Pûleêr burning into my back. I turned the sequence of events over in my head as I walked, and the more I thought about what happened, the more incensed I became. Why was I being ostracized for calling them out? Shouldn’t some of the magî be glad? Or was the status mentality so ingrained that disrupting the balance wasn’t appreciated?

  The rumble of thunder overhead announced another shower, adding more moisture to the soggy terrain. The rivers and tributaries would be overflowing, making it impossible to get out of western Qralî. I was stuck in this twisted status-game until the rainy season passed which might not be so bad if I understood the rules of this place.

  “Oh, and milk Bizi later this afternoon,” Esi called after me just as I stepped around the bend.

  I stopped walking, the desire to lash out so great I could barely move. But underneath the wrath was the sharp sense of betrayal. Esi had been my friend—I thought she’d been my friend—and friends should have each other’s backs. But when it came time to stand up for me, to defend me to the members of Pûleêr, it was the Serîk who’d stepped up. And my friend had dismissed me.

  Maybe she wasn’t my friend after all.

  I spent the entire day at the waterfall, the banks of the slow river higher even than I’d anticipated. As the light faded, I heard Esi calling my name. I wasn’t ready to go back, to forgive her and pretend that nothing had happened.

  “Come on, Taja,” Esi hollered. “If I have to traipse all the way back there to fetch you, I’m going to make you do my laundry for a month.”

  “I’m coming,” I shouted, rising from the river bank. I turned toward the path, barely illuminated now, and grumbled under my breath, “And I’m not doing your laundry.”

  I shuffled through the jungle, heedless of the fronds. Something sharp sliced into my arm, and I hissed with the pain and scooted away from the razor grass. Stupid grass—I should’ve remembered the cluster of sharp blades. Clutching my bicep, I marched after Esi, the warm wetness of my blood oozing between my fingers and making my hand sticky. I paused to tear a strip of fabric from my tunic, bound my cut, and then scurried down the rest of the path, stepping out onto the perimeter road right in front of Esi.

  She reached forward and pulled me to her, hugging me as she whispered in my ear, “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

  Here, in the dark with no one around, she hugs me? Like that’s going to make up for what she did in public?

  A break in the clouds above the canopy allowed for ample light. I leaned back to look her in the face, to measure her sincerity. Her features were twisted in a tortured grimace, and I tilted my head to the side and asked, “What?”

  Esi laughed, and the tension between us waned, but only a little because I didn’t understand.

  “Come on,” she said, throwing her arm around my shoulder and tugging me toward her house. “I’m sorry I snapped at you like a viper. I was scared, and all I could think to keep you safe was to send you away.”

  “Safe?” I ran through the events for the thousandth time. “Safe from what? Or who?”

  “You mean well. I can see that you do,” she said, and then she sighed. “And I admire your beliefs. But some of the magî are strong, and a few of them have tempers.”

  I narrowed my eyes, waiting, for I could feel the but behind her words. “I’d rather you just tell me,” I said. “Whatever’s going on would be easier and safer to navigate if I understood. I’m doing exactly what you said and taught me was necessary to stay safe in Pûleêr. You to
ld me it was fair and equal—but it’s really not. And those other magî weren’t just not working; they were making more work. So sending me away—the public shaming—makes me feel like you’re hiding something. Incidentally.”

  “I can see that,” she replied.

  We continued on the perimeter road until we got to the path leading back to her home. Rain started to fall again, the soft pattering of drops filtering through the canopy above and dripping onto the thick fronds around us.

  “And?” I pressed, waiting for her to step onto the path. “Why send me away from the group? Why yell at me like that? Why make it look like I’m in trouble when I’m not the problem?”

  She took a deep breath and then strode forward without answering.

  No. Fetid. Way.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, following her with raging determination. “I thought we were friends. First, Ruin leaves.” I held up my hand when she turned around, like I’d seen her do to stop me from interrupting. “I know he’s just an animal, but he was with me ever since I woke up, and now he’s not. And then you kick me out of a unit when I was the only one advocating for work, but the Serîk—who knocked out four of the group—gets to stay, and—” Her jaw hardened, and I changed course. “—then you all but tell me not to bother coming for dinner. This whole fair and equal thing obviously means something to my soul because it really makes me want to beat Rull, maybe even kill him, for being a hypocrite, and if you’re in on that, I’m not even sure what to say. So will you please tell me what the fetid rot is going on?”

  Esi tugged me close again and smacked her lips against my cheek. “I’m sorry about Ruin because I know you like him. But he is a predator, and I was always afraid he was going to kill me while I slept.”

  “Liar,” I said and then pushed my lips out into a pout. She was distracting me, but I couldn’t move on without coming to his defense. “He fought another panthera for your goats.”

  She bumped her hip against mine. “No, he saved Bizi, the one you always milked.”

  This was true, so there was no reason to deny it. But I was done with the distraction. I stared at her until her faux smile fell.

  “Listen,” she said. “Rull is the head of the council, but truthfully, he is the council. He’s the strongest magî here, and he picked the rest of us. I only got the spot because my mom died while working for him. And while I liked the perks of being on the council, you’re right: it’s not fair.” She dropped her arm and faced me. “Svîk basically marched into the dining area and ousted the council on their rotten fair and equal policies—that’s literally what he called them. You’ve already been so vocal with your criticism that I was worried what might happen.”

  “What did happen?” I asked.

  “People were in an uproar,” she said. “At least at first, and then Rull and Svîk talked most of them down. The council reviewed the rules before dinner, Rull read them aloud, and everyone got to vote. After all that, Svîk announced that if anyone misunderstood and took their frustration out on you, he’d deliver justice, like he was meting out today. Anyway, I think he’s interested in you.”

  I shook my head, shocked by the turn in conversation. Because what she said, and what she didn’t say, I couldn’t believe it. Everyone in Pûleêr, even Svîk who’d just arrived, got to vote on the new rules—except me. And somehow Esi thought I would be distracted by his interest in me?

  “Are you joking? This isn’t—I don’t even care about him—not like that. How could you send me away?” I took a deep breath, grimacing as I struggled to formulate sentences from the frustration raging within. “And don’t insult my intelligence by saying you were trying to protect me. I have amnesia not stupidity. Did you know about all the hypocrisy—all this time—and do nothing?”

  Esi threw her hands up in the air in an extravagant display, but the hurt etched on her face seemed sincere. “I admit, I’ve liked going to see my cousin in Terit, but I already said no one else was willing to go, so that’s not why I told you to go home. I wasn’t trying to protect my place on the council; I didn’t want you to get in any trouble.”

  What? My heart thumped against my ribs, aching to be free to pound some sense into her. “Why would I be in trouble?” When she didn’t answer, I ground my teeth in frustration and added, “Did Svîk get in trouble?”

  “There’s different kinds of trouble,” she said with a grunt. “Besides, who’s going to punish him? It would probably take more than a dozen magî . . . and then how would he even be punished? And what for? He basically defended you when you called out the rest of the unit for being lazy and entitled.”

  I was glad for that, but her worry on my behalf rankled more because it seemed like a double standard . . . Seemed like? No, it was a double standard! “So, what exactly would I get in trouble for? And how is me not being there—”

  Esi shoved the door open, the loud grating sound too much for me to compete with. The smell of goat and sour milk billowed out of the enclosed space, and I grimaced. My frown shifted to a smile as Bizi got up from the pile of rags and bleated her welcome on her way over to greet us.

  “I understand your frustration,” Esi said, stepping into her home. “And I never said it was fair. But you’re a girl, and even though no one uses magîk, there are plenty who judge a magî’s worth on their power. No one even knows what your power is—including you.”

  “So everyone who used to get away with doing nothing is now upset?” I shook my head, and the water in my hair splattered through the air. I gathered up the ends and twisted them to expel the moisture. “But the majority has to see this is a better way, right? Instead of just saying fair—or whatever—it will be.”

  “Calling those magî ‘upset’ would be an understatement,” she said with a sigh. She ran her hand through her golden waves, splitting her hair into sections before twisting it into a braid. “There were plenty of those who worked to clear the jungle who knew and said nothing for various reasons—”

  “Like you?” I asked, staring at her.

  She shrugged and then leaned over to pet Bizi.

  Or to hide a blush of guilt. I cleared my throat, impatiently waiting for her to speak.

  She kept her attention downward as she said, “Most of us on the council rotated into a work group on occasion.”

  “Are you saying you haven’t always rotated in?” I asked, tilting my head for a new perspective. How could an on-occasion-pretense make anyone feel good about a lie they’re perpetrating. Indignation flared, and I tugged my wet tunic off and wrung it out with fierce energy. Part of me wanted to march into the communal center tomorrow morning and scold any and all who were in on the sham of equality. “So how many magî are angry?”

  “Rull is a good leader, charismatic, especially when he needs to be. He wouldn’t be the leader if he wasn’t.”

  Her defense of him sent an ominous chill over my wet skin, and a different question pressed to the forefront as I grasped the magnitude. “What percentage of Pûleêr is upset with me?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know,” she replied. “But Svîk is going to be assigned to the same group as you for a while, to make sure you’re safe.”

  “Wait,” I shook my head with disbelief. “You want me to believe the council decided to help me stay safe by assigning a Serîk who just showed up to protect me?” The wrongness of her implication fueled my ire, and I tossed my tunic, with excessive force, over a line strung from a tree to the corner of Esi’s home. The wet fabric looped around twice, smacking me on the chin. I glared at the offending garment and then spun to face her. “Because I’m a girl with unknown magîk who ousted an inequitable and unethical system—”

  “I know how it sounds—”

  “I don’t even care how it sounds!” I snapped, my heart thumping in my chest and my face flushed. “I’m talking about what it is! Wrong is wrong—no matter what.”

  Esi nodded, but her slumped shoulders contradicted the gesture of agreement. “I’m not disagreei
ng with you. Sometimes real life doesn’t follow the rules of ideology, and people do what they have to do for survival.” She swallowed, and her features hardened. “But maybe you’ve forgotten how things work in the real world.”

  Stunned by her cruel dig at my amnesia, I drew back, blinking rapidly to clear the burning sensation. Esi’s verbal assault settled, a heavy weight deep in my chest. Hurt, mine and hers, all mixed up in my heart and in my head.

  She turned her back to me and, just in case I couldn’t take the hint, pulled off her tunic as she stumbled to her bed. Dropping the wet garment on the floor, she walked away—from me, from our disagreement—as though my feelings didn’t matter. Heaving one more sigh, she collapsed onto her cot, burying her face into the bedclothes, and released a frustrated groan.

  It doesn’t matter what she thinks. I sniffed before scrubbing the moisture from my eyes. Swallowing the plug of emotion, I ducked into the hovel and pulled the door closed behind. Darkness swallowed us, and in the belly of Esi’s home, swirling with the acrid smells, bitter tension tugged at my heartstrings. But I wasn’t wrong, and I couldn’t apologize for what I’d said. So, I silently shuffled, by memory, to my own pallet and waited for sleep to claim me.

  Hours crawled past, the seconds measured by the chirping of bugs and hooting owls. I turned the events of the day over and over in my mind again, looking for what I could’ve done different, and I still felt honorable. Eventually, fatigue scattered a fine layer of gritty dirt between my eyelids, and the remaining moisture glued them closed.

  Esi was gone when I awoke, as was Bizi, and the door was open. I got dressed and checked outside, but they were nowhere to be seen. I stood in the middle of the single room home, and the space felt bigger. I spun in a circle and frowned. Esi had taken every pail and lined them up by the door. More than half of the containers were gone already, all of the empty ones and the ones with ripe cheese. There were a few buckets left, one each of yogurt and whey, and a couple with cheese. My heart sank, and when the bell rang for breakfast a moment later, uncertainty held me fast. Esi had implied there might yet be trouble.