Blood Indigo by Talulah J. Sullivan

Author:Talulah J. Sullivan [Sullivan, Talulah J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Magical Realism
Publisher: Forest Path Books
Published: 2021-04-20T22:00:00+00:00

QUIET, TOO quiet. Even the oddling not-sounds that had dogged his steps since… since Chepiś… those, too, were silent. Only the Riverling sink pool, feeding from top to bottom, lapping at Her banks as Tokela climbed the weeping tree wykupeh and settled against the weeping tree’s sturdy bark.

Normally, he was good at the wait.

Normally, he didn’t mind being alone.

But too much spun through his Spirit. What had happened with Mordeleg? With the t’rešalt?

With Anahli?

Tokela stared at the hareKin mask, hung up on the doorway, willing Å¡a to answer.

Ša didn’t, but the sink pool did; beckoning and promising, if not answers, at least easement of questions. As Sun sank beyond the far trees, Tokela clambered down.

He took the mask with him, setting Å¡a carefully on the sandy bank like a guardian, and went for a swim. Not merely a swim, though; he glided through a haze of water and thought, diving deep and coming up for breath only when he absolutely had to, and finally everything went numb and slow and chill.

Aware, this time, when he’d company. But this time the murk was clean, silt and water as opposed to treacherous slime and undertow. The Riverling seemed to encourage, press him forwards.

Tokela didn’t want to fathom any more complexities, not now. Nor did he have the courage to approach. He stood, River tickling his belly, as Našobok squatted on the bank, also waiting.

“I was afraid I’d have to come looking for you again.”

I was afraid you might not come looking. Again, awkward, too complex, too exposed. Talk stuck to the back of Tokela’s mouth. Again. He trailed his fingers in the water, tiny sketches, then noticed what he was doing and stilled his hands.

Was Našobok just giving Tokela breath? Or had he reconsidered sharing such breath?

“What did you do with Mordeleg?”

“Hunh.” Našobok shifted, foot to foot. Tokela suddenly realised: his cousin was uncertain, too. “Let’s say I set some things in motion. And if none will finish those things, I will. Either way, Mordeleg won’t be in a position to bother you again. Let his own people deal with him. Hopefully with a lodging pole.”

The thought of Mordeleg getting clobbered with a well-peeled tree trunk tucked a grin into Tokela’s cheek.

“Look at me, Tokela.”

Uncertain, Tokela did so. Našobok still hunched on the bank, resting his forearms on his knees. But he had taken up the hareKin mask, was twirling ša in his fingers.

“Ai,” he ventured, very soft. “In thisNow you bear a very different face than when we Danced.” A frown teased at Našobok’s brow as he considered the mask, almost thoughtfully.

Tokela found he’d talk for this as well; still awkward, but there. He gestured to the mask. “It was that face.”

“Was it?” Našobok’s eyes met Tokela’s own, darksight glinting in the full Moons flickering through the trees. Long heartbeats spun out, heavy yet underlain with the soft soothe of the Riverling’s song.

Tokela looked away. It seemed a nest of viperKin lay writhing in his belly, all coils and tiny, stinging fangs.

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