Beloved Night

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Hey, hey, hey," Jabari murmured from where he stood in the horse stables. "It's okay. You don't need to buck like a crazy beast." In animal speech, he added, I thought we were friends.

Wind, Isika's horse, showed the whites of his eyes and kicked at the wall behind him. Friends is a word for people, he replied.

Jabari sighed, clutching the reins tightly with one hand and wiping sweat off his chin with the other. He was irritated beyond measure, and the last thing he needed was a horse educating him on human and animal word choice.

Okay then, but you have to admit that we've been through a lot together, he said. No need to kick at me.

They stood at a standstill, Jabari trying to encourage the horse to lift his foot so Jabari could check it, and Wind flatly refusing. At the other end of the stables, someone strode in. It was Bara, the horse keeper. She walked to the door of Wind's stall and crossed her arms, looking at Jabari with barely concealed amusement.

"What's this?" she asked. "Arguing with the horses again?"

Jabari gritted his teeth. "He won't listen to me," he muttered.

She continued to watch him, arms crossed, narrowing her eyes as she surveyed him. She wore her tightly coiled hair short and natural, and her tunic was sleeveless, showing dark brown arms that were muscled from years of hard work.

"I don't get it," she finally said after several long breaths where Jabari tried not to snap at her for staring. "Isn't this one of your giftings? Why is it so hard for you?"

Jabari blew a short, impatient breath. "If I knew that, I wouldn't be here."

Ivram, second elder, had grown increasingly frustrated with Jabari over the previous months and finally assigned him to spend time in every place where he had a gift but wasn't "performing to potential," whatever that meant.

Jabari leaned his elbow on the side of the stall and considered the horse, who tossed his head and refused to look at him.

This wasn't even his fault. The thought came unbidden, insistent, though he didn't want it. Jabari had no strength because their Whisperer was weak.

And you wonder why the horse does not want to cooperate with you, said a familiar and alarming voice in his head. The horses in the stable began to protest, neighing loudly, shaking their heads, shuddering their coats, and pawing at the ground with their hooves. The stable was suddenly full of dust, and Bara whirled around to see what had happened.

Jabari already knew, even before she turned back and pointed an accusatory finger at him.

"Get them out of here! What are you thinking?"

Jabari hurried out toward the door, shooing the huge cats out of the stables as he went, but turned back to call, "They go where they want! Not my fault!"

Are you crazy? he demanded, looking back and forth at the two Palipa, giant silver cats who had put the horses into a panic. As he and the cats passed by the horses in their stables, the horses reared and whinnied. I'm here to improve my gathering gift and animal speech. You've set me back weeks!

They arrived at the yard, and Jabari could see Bara letting the horses out from the other side of the stable. The horses ran as fast as they could, out to the far end of the long meadow, tossing their heads and working out the jitters they couldn't help feeling in the presence of the large cats. Jabari shook his head. They wouldn't trust Jabari anytime soon.

He turned to face the Palipa, the heat of the midday sun blazing down on his head. Hera, the mother cat, sat looking at him impassively. Her head reached the middle of his arm, nearly his shoulder. Her grown cub sat beside her, washing his paws and ignoring Jabari.

What's that supposed to mean about the horses not wanting to cooperate with me? Jabari asked.

Hera narrowed her eyes into slits. Why would they? We all serve the World Whisperer. As long as she is loyal to Nenyi, we have unwavering loyalty to her. Even creatures as stupid as horses can feel that you blame her for your weakness.

Jabari frowned. He stood without answering for a long moment, then realized he was clenching his fists. He forced himself to relax them.

"What are you talking about?" he asked aloud. The Ancient Ones could understand human speech, and he momentarily lost the ability to ask nicely in his head. "I love Isika. Even before I knew I loved her, I was loyal to her."

The silver cat's eyes were steady on Jabari's face, and he forced himself not to flinch or look away.

You believe, Son of Andar, that something about Isika and her place as World Whisperer is causing the problems with your own gifting. It is ugly to shift blame to her, young one. You show that you do not understand Isika, her power, or your own.

The younger cat stopped washing his paws and blinked. Humans are stupid when they blame.

Jabari could not really believe that he was standing in a stable yard being castigated by creatures on four legs. I don't blame her, he insisted. But the words weren't convincing, not even to him. He didn't want to blame her. The thoughts came without his permission. He knew they weren't rational. He didn't know how to stop them.

We came for another reason, said the younger cat. He went back to washing his paws.

We did, Hera said. She stood and stretched, then settled back down. Jabari waited.

The elders are together in the meeting space, preparing to call Isika in. We don't think you should miss what they are planning. It would be helpful for you to go and hear what they have to say.

Jabari squinted at the cat. She settled back on her haunches. He wasn't sure what she meant by her cryptic words, but they seemed to be all she would offer. He took a moment to absorb the shift in his plans, then turned to gather his things.

Don't follow me back in here, he warned as he went toward the stable. He felt their flickers of amusement, and, glancing back, saw them stand and fluidly lope away, the sunlight flashing on their silver hides.

Bara was still in the stable. Jabari walked to the hook on the back wall to take off his apron. Bara eyed him without saying anything, still clearly annoyed.

"They should know better," he said. "Especially Wind. When we went into the Desert City, the Palipa used their magic to make Wind, Night, and a few of the other horses invisible. They should be used to the scent of their magic."

"I'm not sure anything could get horses used to the scent of a large predator," Bara said. "Even these ones, who love Isika enough to allow large cats to cover them in magic."

Jabari nodded, dropping the apron onto the hook and winding his ser onto his head.

"Something came up, and I have to go back to the palace. I'll try to check Wind's shoes another time. If he'll ever let me get close to him again."

He picked up his pack and swung it over his shoulder, looking at the older woman.

"What do you think is stopping me from progressing?" he asked, feeling desperate, suddenly, for an answer.

She considered him. "You are arrogant," she said finally. "And also somehow afraid of your strength. Animals don't like that. You need to command love from them the way Isika does."

"You don't think Isika is arrogant?" he asked. "And I mean that in the best way."

"Isika is brave and sure of herself," Bara replied. "It's not the same thing. I'm shocked that you would think it is." She turned away, shaking her head, and he flinched at the pity that had flashed in her eyes. "You have a lot of work to do, little brother."

The dry grass crunched under Jabari's feet as he headed up the hill to the castle. Underneath everything else he had picked up from the horses that day had been a single-minded ground note of fear. Fear of hunger. The drought went on and on, and like all grazers, they were afraid of drought. Their fear made them skittish. That wasn't his fault.

He looked up at the sky, a brittle, faded blue. Not a single cloud drifted overhead. There should be rain now, cooling the earth. Every year, without fail, Maween experienced three to four months of rain that made them miserable indoors but was provision for the rest of the year. The rest of the seasons had brief storms, but the wet season was the basis of life in their region. Last year's wet season had been meager, and this year again, there was nothing. No rain.

The people of Azariyah had begun walking around with a furrow between their eyes, chewing their lips, wringing their hands. The land could not survive without rain for another cycle. They knew why it was happening, but they didn't know how to stop it.

The Desert King had pulled Maween into his net of authority. He had weakened their Whisperer and taken her sister. Their protection was breached, and he could pelt them with curses. They were vulnerable to him.

Jabari knew, deep within himself, that someone with his power should be able to counteract this curse, shift the weather and change the course of events for the rainy season. So in a way, it was Jabari's fault. But in a way, it was everyone's fault and no one's fault.

Humans waste time thinking about fault, Jabari heard Hera say from a distance.

It was a waste of time. Jabari needed to focus. Their impossible task was to find a way to break the betrayal magic that kept them tethered to the malevolence of the Great Waste and Mugunta's power. Betrayal magic tied them down and prevented them from being the strong kingdom they had been during and before Queen Azariyah's reign.

They had their World Whisperer, and she was powerful. Ivram thought she was perhaps mightier in her power than even Azariyah had been. But the betrayal magic had crippled her. Jabari felt frustrated, powerless, and above all, irritated.

The door to the conference room was ajar, so Jabari nodded at the guard and stepped in quietly. He wanted to hear the last fragments of conversation before they noticed him.

"We can do it the week after next," Jabari's father was saying.

Jabari blinked and took in the room. Light streamed in from the high windows, illuminating the rugs and cushions around a low table, where the four elders sat or reclined.

"Not soon enough. We need it to take effect immediately, before we have to send our animals away to find pasture." That was Ivram, his voice low and troubled.

"We could send gatherers with them to protect them," Laylit, Jabari's mother, suggested.

Ivram shook his grizzled head. "We need all our gatherers here," he said. "The coronation must happen next week."

Jabari had been following until then, but at these words, he blinked and nearly staggered. He stepped farther into the room, so they couldn't help but notice him.

"Coronation?" he asked.

A multitude of emotions crossed over their faces as he watched. All four elders, elegant in their robes, were striking. His parents, Andar and Laylit, beautiful in their bright colors that highlighted the same deep black skin Jabari had inherited. And then Ivram with his dark skin, wise eyes, and graying head, and his wife Karah, pale-skinned with long red hair tied back in a hundred braids.

At the moment, though, their faces were a combination of irritated, exasperated, or angry.

"I have it on good authority that your faces might stay that way if you keep looking at me like that," Jabari said, winking at his mother, who had threatened him with that outcome many times when he was a boy. He crossed the room in a few long strides and collapsed onto one of the cushions, reaching for flatbread and soft cheese. His stomach growled, and he realized with surprise that he hadn't eaten anything that day. Too busy with the horses, who now would hate him forever because of the wretched Palipa. He spread cheese on a piece of bread and then looked up to find everyone still watching him. Ivram had his head in his hand.

"You were not invited to this conversation," Andar said mildly.

Jabari felt a flash of anger. "I thought you must have forgotten to invite me since I'm sure I just heard you planning an event that you wouldn't dream of without consulting Isika, or even me."

Laylit sat forward. "Isika is on her way," she said. "But why would we consult you?"

Jabari gaped at his mother. "She is my friend and beloved," he said. "This is about our future!"

His father scoffed. "This from a person who 'allowed' Gavi to stay in the Desert City without consulting any of us."

"I didn't realize it was only Gavi's influence that kept you civil, Jabari," his mother added. She was trying to speak lightly, but her voice broke.

Jabari stared at a pattern in his woven cushion. So that was why they had grown more close-mouthed around him. He had noticed that where they might once have included him to train him for eldership, they were now holding more meetings behind closed doors. He and Ivy, Ivram and Karah's daughter, had often flowed in and out of meetings without being stopped, but now they were left out of important conversations.

The pieces were coming together. The elders didn't trust him because Gavi had chosen to stay in the Desert City with Aria, and Jabari and Ivy hadn't stopped him.

"Gavi made his own choice," he said, trying to keep his voice controlled. "It hurts me as well, but he is my brother and equal. How should I have stopped him?"

He spread his hands on his knees and looked at them. What a mess they were all in. He didn't even want to look at the elders. He was disappointed in their response to Gavi's absence. Disappointed in himself for not being able to change anything. Of course, he had tried to change Gavi's mind about staying in the Desert City. He missed Gavi like he was sure he would miss his arm if it was gone.

"Isika should be here to hear this, though, don't you think?" he asked when the silence grew thick enough to be deeply uncomfortable.

"I should be where?"

Isika's voice was clear and musical, and Jabari turned so quickly that he felt a twinge in his neck. She was the most beautiful creature on the earth, he thought again as he saw her. He shifted to get up, but she widened her eyes at him, just a fraction, and he stayed where he was. She stood looking at them all, hands loose at her sides, head c****d to one side. She looked like a queen already. Jabari thought that he might be the only one who could tell that she was nervous. He could see it in her jaw.

The silence grew, then Laylit sat forward.

"We want to hold the coronation ceremony," she said.

Isika's face was faintly puzzled. "Well, yes, I knew that," she said.

"Next week," Laylit added.

There were two, maybe three heartbeats before Jabari lunged, just as Isika's knees gave out and she crumpled to the floor.