Chabra: The Picnic

Lajita listened to the birdsong for a moment before she opened her eyes, luxuriating in the gentle melody, the sighing of the pre-dawn breeze in the trees, the coolth of the linen.

And the quiet breathing of her Karadi next to her on the bed.

She rolled over to look at Karadi’s bearded face, handsome even asleep with a little dribble from one corner of his mouth.

And this was the Lord of House Chabra!

She giggled, and giggled again when his eyes opened at the sound.

He lay still, one eye looking at her as he gathered his wits. He shut his mouth, grimaced as his cheek touched the wet spot, and rolled to face her while wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You’re up early.”

“You’re drooling, Lord Karadi of Chabra.”

“Women should be seen and not heard, you know.”

“I’ve heard that before, now that you mention it,” she countered. “But I’ve also heard that many men, when discovering a beautiful woman in their bed, think of other things.”

“Perhaps I might as well, if one were in my bed…”

She snuggled closer, slipping under his arm.

“If…?”

Her hand slipped down across his chest, his belly, and lower.

“Oh, my… it seems you recognize the validity of my argument after all…”

Unable to restrain himself any longer, he surrendered to her superior logic.

---

Detail map of the Night Ocean region

* * *

Later, after breakfast, when Karadi had gone to attend to the fields, she walked out onto the balcony and sat on the divan, looking out over the thriving village and the waters of the Night Ocean, the leather-bound diary in her hand.

The book was still new, hardly worn or stained… it was, after all, only a few years old. In fact, she thought to herself, she wouldn’t even make it for more than five hundred years! She yet had to write all of the “prophecies” for the next centuries, but since she had personally confirmed that they arrived safely in the future, she had no doubt that she would get it done.

How she would get it done, how these missives from other Lajitas arrived in the future, what magic was involved, she had no idea, but obviously she would discover the secret one day.

Would there be one for her, here, this day of the Year’s Turning?

Gingerly, she removed the amulet from the small cloth bag hanging around her neck, and touched it to the cover of the diary.

There was no sound, no burst of light, but suddenly, as if it had been there all along, a sheet of paper appeared atop the leather-bound book.

Another missive! From that other Lajita!

She picked it up and began to read.

My dearest self,

We didn’t expect this conversation to continue, one-sided as it is, but yet another year has passed, and when I—and you—pressed the amulet to the diary, this missive appeared. The house is coming along nicely. I know because I distinctly remember you checked it yourself yesterday. Or I did.

I wonder if we checked it at the same time.

Or was it only checked once, and we remember it separately?

My head hurts sometimes.

This talk of me, and you, and us… let me be me, and you, you; it will be so much easier to pretend you are a different person.

There are some things you need to know, I think.

You suspect you might be with child—you are. I wish you’d (I’d?) waited a little longer.

It will be a painful birth, I’m afraid—Zlatka, the Eudoxian midwife, is a treasure. First will be fierce Dhruv and poor Atisha, his beautiful twin sister. A hard birth but all will end well, and they will thrive.

Fear not childbirth. Your other births will all be far easier, so rest easy.

I did write down when each child is born and what you name them, but destroyed that sheet. I had no memory of ever receiving it, but we both know them all by heart anyway. And, I fondly recall the talks beloved Jahleel and I had over names. Even the arguments remain with me now as dear memories. But I must turn to what I so urgently need to tell you.

We know so much, and indeed it is that knowledge that leads across the centuries to the beautiful city of Shiroora Shan and the Great House of Chabra we were born to. We know of where to find the secret lode of silver ore that has provided our wealth, and the pearl beds, or when a landslide will strike or dragon nest, and we can advise the people accordingly. They already are in awe of the Seeress Chabra.

We know knowledge sad, though, as well. Can we shape the future with our knowledge of what is to come?

If I could spare you the heartbreak of our fate…

I wish we could… with your help I would try.

We have excellent memories—good enough to memorize every word that The Lajita wrote. But something happened to me five days from now, five days after I received this missive I write to you, on the first day of the Week of the Blooming Cherry in the Month of the Year’s Turning. The first Lajita warned me that on that day of an accident in the waters off the island that will one day anchor the Great Seawall. She warned that four children would drown: Tasha and Radha, daughters of the fisherman named Ogan who lives close to where the largest mountain stream enters the Night Ocean—his home has a row of whitish stones around the base of the wood plank walls. Cadman, son of Hafez, a farmer living just outside the new Eastern Gate. And Haarith, almost a man, the only son of widowed Afreen, a weaver who lives in a back room at the “House of Grushak,” which is of course merely The Leaping Whale.

I knew them all: it is yet a small village, and I know everyone. Obviously, so do you.

That morning, after suitable preparations, I prepared sweetcakes and berries, and beautiful peach blossoms that Batauta had brought me, and invited the four children to join me at the House. We enjoyed a splendid morning together. Tasha and Radha were especially delighted, and later, while I was engaged with them, I realized the two boys had snuck away.

Cadman and Haarith set out together in a small boat, leaving us womenfolk with their sweets and laughing at their secret adventure, only to capsize as an unexpected wave took the boat broadside and flipped it over. In the cold waters of the New Year they quickly drowned.

The boys drowned, but not the girls.

I saved the girls, and that means (unless memory betrays me or I have gone entirely mad) we can sway the flow of history, we can change the future.

I saved the girls, and while I have no way of knowing if you succeed or fail, I am confident you, in turn, can save the boys.

Lajita pursed her lips and looked down into the streets of Rashahan—Shiroora Shan to be—below, the missive forgotten in her hand.

She thought back to her own memories, recalling mention of the two boys drowning. Try as she might, she could not recall ever reading of the two girls being drowned, or even of enjoying a picnic.

Was the first Lajita misremembering, or confused?

It seemed unlikely… her memory was fine, and she was confident she remembered the “prophecies” of the Lajita correctly… they had, after all, guided her thus far, revealing the location of the secret spring that would water the Great House of Chabra for centuries to come. The giant teak trees had been where she had read they would be, even though the villagers had doubted that teak could grow in the area, especially to that size.

She knew family details, names, origins, so much more information about the villagers before she ever met them.

Time and time again she had demonstrated, to her own satisfaction and the astonishment of the villagers, that she had secret knowledge.

Could that other Lajita have been mistaken? Even though she herself was, in a sense, that other Lajita?

She couldn’t believe it… but…

The alternative was that she had changed the course of fate itself, altered the future. And if the future could be altered, didn’t that mean the Lajita herself could vanish? Obviously, since she was here, now, she hadn’t vanished, but what if something she herself did affected the future of the Lajita, or House Chabra itself?

But wait… Why only think of the worst?

If she could affect the course of history, she could also guide House Chabra through the disasters and misfortunes that awaited it in years to come!

Her eyes widened, one hand flying to cover her mouth.

Every Lajita might have done this! Every one of us might have changed the future past, guiding House Chabra to safety and glory for centuries!

She frowned.

But there was no mention of it in any of the missives from The Lajita.

She scratched her head and laid the missive back down. Sighed.

She heard voices from the courtyard and rose from her cushion on the balcony.

“Karadi? Is that you?”

“Sun’s hot today!” came a grumble from downstairs.

She looked over the railing into the central courtyard to see Karadi fanning himself with his hat, looking up at her.

“You look ravishing today, Lajita.”

“Thank you. Is that a compliment or an invitation?”

“Again!? You’ll wear me out, woman! I’m too hot and tired to do more than admire the view, I’m afraid.”

“I’ll get you some tea,” she said, and quickly took the stairs down to the ground floor. Karadi had moved to the lower deck, just under the balcony where she had been reading only minutes earlier. Shaded and often with a cooler breeze, it was the ideal place to rest and cool off.

The big pot of tea in the kitchen was cool to the touch as she poured him a cup. It wasn’t fresh tea, of course, although it had been brewed just a few hours earlier, but it was still delicious, and the evaporation from its cloth covers had cooled it in spite of the heat of the day.

She sat on a cushion next to his divan and handed it to him.

“Aahh…”

Karadi savored a long drink.

“Thank you. That was delicious,” he said, then patted the divan. “I feel much revived… come, join me.”

She hesitated for a moment, then sat next to him, gathering her saree under her.

He pulled her closer to steal a kiss, one hand moving upward across her belly and upwards, seeking an opening.

She kissed him perfunctorily, turned her head away.

He pulled his head back in surprise.

“It’s not you, dear Karadi,” she said, turning back to face him. “It’s me. Actually, it’s the three of us,” she said with a mischievous grin.

He frowned, shook his head.

“I don’t… the three… You’re pregnant! From this morning! Already!”

He leapt to his feet, fatigue forgotten, and pulled her up off the divan to hug her tight.

“Put me down, you idiot!” she shouted, laughing. “I’m not a bear to wrestle!”

“With a son!”

“Yes, Karadi, with a son. And a daughter, too. I said the three of us, remember? One child for each of us,” she explained as he gently returned her to the divan.

He sat on her cushion and grasped her hand, looking up into her face, eyes glowing with excitement.

“A son! And a daughter!? You know?”

“Of course, you silly. I always know. I am The Lajita, remember?”

He grimaced.

“It is unseeming to boast in front of your husband, woman.”

“Perhaps it would be if you were my husband…”

He shot to his feet, adjusting his own clothing.

“We shall be married on the morrow!”

“Oh, sit down, Karadi. We shall be married on the summer solstice, three months from now, and the twins—Dhruv and Atisha—shall be born on the autumnal equinox.”

“It is a man’s job to name his son!”

“It is already decided, dear Karadi. One cannot deny fate.”

Even as she said it, though, she wondered… hadn’t the other Lajita done just that? And asked her to do the same?

“Ever the seeress!” he laughed, and hugged her tight once more. “Dhruv is a good name indeed.”

As is Atisha, thought Lajita to herself. Pitiful Atisha—I must save her!

“We must find you a physician,” said Karadi. “I will ride to Eudoxia and bring back the finest to serve you.”

“No need for that,” smiled Lajita. “I think you’ll find that Zlatka, who tends the kelp beds to the east, is a midwife of rare skill, and adequate for my needs.”

“Zlatka? That sounds Eudoxian…”

“It is, my dear, but no matter. When the time comes, fetch her, and she shall put your heart at ease.”

“Perhaps you should rest,” he said, “while I fetch her now.”

She placed her palms on his broad chest, looking up into his face.

“I’ll have no need of a midwife for months yet. Trust me.”

He raised one eyebrow.

“I do, but…”

“Back to your work, and leave me to mine! Now off with you!”

His laughter echoed in the corridor as he left.

* * *

The house had been largely completed the previous year.

Lajita had suggested certain features based on her knowledge of what was to come, but there had been no trace of this first house left by the time she was born, over five centuries in the future. She knew where it had been built, because the main house of House Chabra had stood in the same spot all those years, but few details of its original construction or design. She did, however, know how many children would be born, and when, and knew that their family would become steadily richer over the years, in children, in power, and of course in gold. Only reasonable when one considered how it had brought prosperity to the northern Night Ocean and beyond for over five hundred years, she thought.

The house was a two-story structure of mostly brick and wood, and this year Karadi had installed several decorative terra cotta pieces. It was quite large compared to most dwellings in the area, which was only now beginning to grow from a village into a town, but it was still vastly smaller and coarser than the enormous mansion she had grown up in: the main house of House Chabra.

She had insisted that it be built larger than anyone thought necessary or appropriate, and made sure that it could be expanded in the future. It included a number of features rarely found in rural communities, such as a master and three other bedrooms upstairs, in the private section of the house, and a drawing room on the ground floor, along with an unusually large kitchen and storage facilities.

She thought for a moment about what she needed to do. It was almost time for Karadi to travel to Karida, ostensibly to fetch some fine porcelain but actually to make the connections they needed to jump-start the glassware and crystal industry here. She decided it could wait until after she figured out what to do about the two drowned children. Or was it four?

The other Lajita said she had changed history, saving the two girls but still losing the boys to the sea. So history—the future—could be changed. Did she have to invite them to a picnic as the other Lajita had? Or should she try something else?

If the other Lajita could change history and invite the children to the house for sweets, she should be able to invite them elsewhere.

Or do something else entirely…

She realized that she didn’t have to invite them anywhere at all, she merely had to make sure they didn’t drown, and that might be even simpler.

She wrapped her shawl around her head and walked down the gentle, curving road to the village and The Leaping Whale.

The inn was open, as it always was, but the tables on the tavern side were empty. The master had washed the floor and was spreading fresh sawdust.

“Master Grushak, good day to you.”

“And to you, Mistress Lajita,” he replied, setting the straw basket of sawdust down and brushing his hands together, sawdust flying. “I see Master Karadi here on occasion, but you are a rare visitor.”

“As it should be, Master Grushak, for a woman who prefers a quiet tea.”

“What can I do for you today?”

“I would speak with Mistress Afreen. Is she here?”

“The weaver? Yeah, I think she’s in the back,” he said, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. “Go on through and see.”

“Thank you. I can hear the clatter of the shuttle.”

She nodded and cut across the room to the small door that led to the rear of the structure. The weaver rented a room here, and had a loom set up in a cleared section of Grushak’s storage area.

The corridor was quite dark, but the room was bright with indirect sunlight through the openings high on the wall. Even though the sun’s rays did not penetrate into the room directly, it was more than bright enough outside.

Afreen was seated at her loom, fingers adeptly adjusting threads as the shuttle flew back and forth and the frames clacked up and down. Originally from Zeenar, she had come here years ago and made a living weaving and sewing cotton and silk. Lajita suspected she supplemented her income by serving customers in Grushak’s establishment.

“Blessings of Nath-Horthath, Mistress.”

“Ah, Seeress Lajita. And blessings upon you,” replied Afreen without slowing her fingers. “I have not yet finished it, I’m afraid, but there is yet plenty of time.”

Lajita smiled and shook her head.

“No, I’m not here for the wedding saree. I wanted to ask where I could find your son.”

“Haarith?” Her fingers slowed. “What has he done now?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that. I heard that he was looking for a job, and thought he might be interested in something I need done.”

The shuttle finally stopped, and Afreen stood, massaging her left hand.

“He’s probably down at the pier, I think. What sort of job?”

“The stairs through the woods to the house need repairs. It’s not difficult work—just repairing the holes from the rains with stones and wood. My Karadi will be happy to help him with the heavy ones.”

“He’s certainly strong enough, and goodness knows he’s searching for some way to make some money. He’s not one for farming and waiting months to see a few beans, that one.”

Lajita laughed politely.

“The farmers and fishermen don’t need any helpers?”

“Not for pay, I’m afraid… later, when the fish run or the harvest’s ready, they’ll come running, though.”

“Shiroora Shan is growing,” said Lajita. “He’ll have no trouble finding a job soon.”

“Shiroora Shan? Oh, you mean Rashahan. Why do you call it that?”

“Rashahan is merely a babe in arms, but it will grow into a mighty city, and that city is named Shiroora Shan. The name Rashahan will live on as Ta-Rashahan-Bar, the Street of the Weavers…”

Sha paused for a moment as she saw the city she had been born in once again, in her mind’s eye. Afreen gaped at her, committing the Seeress’ prophecy to memory.

“If you’ve no objection, then,” continued Lajita as if nothing had happened, “I’ll walk down the pier and ask him.”

“Thank you, Seeress! Thank you!” Afreen bobbed her head in thanks tinged with awe and a little fear. “He seems to like the sea, but it’ll be good for him to make a little coin.”

Lajita nodded, still a little distant, and took her leave.

It was a short stroll down the waterfront—Rashahan was, after all, but a small village. The ramshackle pier, weather-worn rough-cut planks supported by massive tree trunks sunken into the sea, was bustling with fishing boats unloading the morning’s catch, fish flopping, cats snatching up prizes to eat in their private places, gulls whirling overhead, nets and baskets and fishermen and merchants bargaining and arguing with shouts and laughter.

She spotted Haarith helping one of the fishermen transfer fish from his cast net to a straw basket.

“Not that one,” scolded the fisherman, pointing to a long, thin, yellowish fish. “Tastes terrible.”

Haarith grabbed it from the basket and threw it back into the sea.

“Thank you, lad,” said the fisherman. “Here’s a copper for your trouble.”

He flipped a coin to Haarith, who caught it neatly in his fist and dropped it into his wallet.

“Master Haarith!”

He turned to see who had called.

“Lajita of House Chabra, Master Haarith. Might we speak?”

He jumped down from the fishing boat and walked up to her, wiping his hands on his filthy dhoti.

He nodded his head in greeting.

“I asked your mother if you might be interested in doing a little labor for me, Master Haarith. For pay.”

“Sure! What do you need?”

“Just a few repairs to the stairs up to our house… the rain’s washed a few holes here and there and it’s difficult to use anymore. The holes all need to be filled in with stone, and the steps made solid. Karadi will help you with the heavy ones, of course.”

He straightened.

“I won’t need help moving stones, Mistress. Even the heavy ones.”

“You look very strong, Master Haarith!”

He preened.

“I expect it will take a week or so,” she continued. “You’ll have to find stones of the right shape and prepare the steps to mount them securely. It needs to be built so the next rain doesn’t cut new holes.”

“That’s easy… Me and Cadman know our way around the rock face.”

“Who is Cadman?”

“He’s my buddy; his pa’s a farmer over on the east side. Can he help?”

“And how old is this Master Cadman?”

“Uh, maybe eight or nine, I guess…”

“I don’t think he’d be much help, but if you want to work with him that’s fine, too,” said Lajita. “Now, about payment… I was thinking ten laurels a day, if that’s acceptable? You can pay Master Cadman out of that if you like.”

“Uh… how about an even twelve?”

“It had better be done properly, Master Haarith!” warned Lajita.

“I will be, I promise!”

“Very well then, twelve copper laurels. You may start tomorrow. Here is your first day’s wages in advance, in evidence of my good faith.”

She held out the twelve copper coins she had waiting in her hand, each stamped with the laurel emblem of Celephaïs.

Haarith, a huge grin on his face, picked them up eagerly.

“I’ll go get Cadman, and we’ll start right away!”

“Excellent! Thank you, Master Haarith,” said Lajita. “I knew you could handle it for me.”

“Thank you, Seeress!”

“No, no, thank you, Master Haarith,” she smiled. “Go on.”

He bobbed his head once more and jumped off the pier onto the sand, trotting along the shore eastward.

“Well, let’s see how that works out, shall we?” said Lajita to herself, watching the receding boy. “And now to invite some girls to a party.”

* * *

The first day of the Week of the Blooming Cherry came, and the house was noisy with the laughter and running feet of several young girls. Lajita had invited not only Tasha and Radha, but several dozen of the young girls of the village “to get to know everyone better.”

Many of them first said they had too many chores to do, but she shamelessly used the growing strength of her reputation to convince their parents—or whoever they were working for—to give them the afternoon off. In the end most of them were able to come at least for the sweet cake.

She asked Karadi to keep an eye on the boys, too, to make sure they were repairing the stairs properly. He knew something was up, used to her secret knowledge and sudden orders, but did as she asked, lending his strong arms to their labor.

And, in the process, making sure the boys didn’t slip off to sea, although she hadn’t mentioned that to him yet. She wanted to see what happened first, and if by some chance the boys did die, she wanted to avoid burdening him with the grief.

Later, if all went well, she planned to tell him the whole story and see what he thought. She was having trouble understanding how she (or some other Lajita) could change history now even through it had already happened by then. If the past were malleable then what good would her memorized history be?

With the sunset, after the last of the girls had left, Karadi brought the two boys up to the house.

She thanked them for a hard day’s work, paid Haarith his wage (from which he promptly paid Cadman) and gave them all chilled tea and the last of the sweets.

That evening, she showed Karadi the missive she’d received on New Year’s Day.

“All four of them live, Karadi. The missive says the other Lajita saved only the girls ‘last time,’ and the time before that all four died. But they live!”

Karadi shook his head.

“You sure this other woman isn’t just lying?”

She slammed her palm down on the table with a scowl.

“That ‘other woman’ is me, you idiot!”

“I guess,” he mused, sipping his ale. “I mean, I understand that you’re from the future Shiroora Shan, and all these prophecies you know are actually just notes that you write to yourself, but it’s tough to understand what’s really going on… If all four died, and then only two, and now none, then your history isn’t real anymore…”

He took another sip.

“And if your history isn’t real anymore, where did you come from?”

“Damn that Shikhandi!”

She crossed her arms and stared fiercely into the air, as if willing him to appear in front of her.

“He said he was from up in the mountains, right?”

“Yes… but there is nothing in those mountains except hideous beasts and death. Much farther north lies fearsome Irem, which has been dead for countless centuries even here.”

“I’ve never heard of anyone living in those mountains.”

“Nor have I,” she agreed. “Certainly no people.”

“I’ve mentioned that name a number of times, and nobody seems to have ever heard it before.”

“Well, that was over five hundred years from now, so that’s not too surprising.”

A distant clanging interrupted them: the village bell!

Karadi sprang to his feet and raced to the balcony, looking down over the village. The moon was about half-full, making it difficult to even discern the individual buildings, but he saw torches gathering in the village center.

To the east was a much brighter light.

“Looks like a big fire outside the Eastern Gate… I’ve got to go help.”

“Fire…? To the east…?”

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Cadman’s farm is just outside the Eastern Gate… I’m coming with you!”

Karadi lit two torches, and they ran down the path to the village, jumping over the few places that hadn’t been repaired yet.

A bucket brigade had already been set up, and Karadi took a place near the front of the line, using his taller height to throw each bucket a little deeper into the growing fire. Most of the village was there by now, with several bucket lines passing buckets of water from the irrigation channel, and passing the empties back.

Flaming embers shot up into the night sky as the terrified livestock—cows and goats—raced away into the darkness, freed from their wood barn. A sudden explosive crack, and another, as bamboo burst in the heat.

A fresh bloom of sparks flared, and faded in the wind.

“Cadman! Cadman, where are you?” shouted Hafez, the farmer, shielding his face from the inferno with his arm. “Cadman!”

He made as if to enter the house, but one of the crowd grabbed his arm and pulled him back. Hafez didn’t even seem to notice, just kept trying to pull forward into the flames.

The roof fell with an explosion of flame and sparks, and he stumbled back, tripping and falling.

A few hours later the fire had been reduced to a steaming, smoking pile of blackened lumber and debris. The animals were safe but the house was burned to the ground.

Nobody had seen the boy. Hafez braved the searing ruins, poking the ash and wood with a sturdy pole.

By the time the eastern sky began to pale and the torches had guttered out, Hafez was sitting on the ground staring blankly at what had been his home, still mumbling the boy’s name in a cracked voice, rocking back and forth in sorrow.

They found his half-burned body a little later, trapped under a massive tree trunk: the fallen ridge beam.

Karadi, body blackened by soot, sat next to Lajita, a bucket of water between them. He cupped another handful and sipped a little, then wiped the rest across his forehead.

He started to wipe it off with his saree, and hesitated for a second.

“Oh, go ahead,” laughed Lajita. “It’s already got holes burned in it, a little soot won’t hurt any.”

He looked down at his saree and saw it was covered in mud and ash, and had more than few charred holes and rips.

He shrugged, dipped the hem into the bucket, and proceeded to wipe his whole face.

“I’m off to the Night Ocean for a quick dip,” he said. “Join me?”

“No,” said Lajita quietly. “I’ve something I need to check first…”

He cocked his head and raised an eyebrow, waiting.

“I need to see if Haarith is alright… have you seen him?”

“Haarith? Umm, yeah, I have. He was scooping buckets of water, over there.”

He pointed to the closest irrigation channel.

Lajita stood up, working her fingers to get the cramps out. She’d passed a lot of buckets that night, empty and full, her arms and back ached fiercely.

“I’ll go have a look, thanks. Let me know if you see him, OK?”

“OK. I’ll head back up after a quick swim to cool off, and wash off.”

She nodded, eyes searching the dwindling villagers.

She walked back through the Eastern Gate, the white stone still blindingly new, toward The Leaping Whale. She asked several people along the way if they’d seen the boy, but nobody had.

Was he dead now, too? Death delayed but never cheated?

Grushak was doing a booming business, serving cool ale and even a few meals to villagers returning from the fire. When there was a disaster the whole village turned out, and Grushak had been on the bucket brigade with everyone else. Once things were under control, though, well, a man’s gotta make a living.

Still, he had cut the prices on everything by a third.

He was much too busy to talk so she slipped past and into the back.

“Mistress Afreen? Master Haarith?”

Afreen’s head popped out of a doorway.

“Seeress Lajita!”

“Good morning to you, Mistress. I trust you’re uninjured in the fire?”

“Uninjured, but until I wash this smoke off I cannot approach my loom.”

“Karadi is swimming in the Night Ocean—I may join him, actually.”

“No jellies this time of year… a good idea!” laughed the weaver. “Is there something…?”

“I wanted to check that your son is OK?”

“Haarith? Of course, he’s fine. He’s already back in bed… a slab of meat, a little ale, and he’ll sleep until noon today.”

“Ah, good, good… by all means, please let him sleep. In fact, take the whole day off. The stairs can wait.”

Afreen nodded happily.

“I will, thank you. How’s he doing?”

“Oh, the stairs are coming along nicely. He and Cadma—”

She stopped.

“Cadman? Oh, no… they found him?”

Lajita nodded silently, eyes glistening.

“He was trapped under the ridge beam when it fell. Hafez is heartbroken.”

“Oh, poor child. And Haarith will be heartbroken, too… they were best friends, always together when they didn’t have work to do.”

“Tell Master Haarith how sorry I am, please.”

“I will, I will… poor Cadman.”

She took her leave and walked down to the sea, deep in thought.

Dozens of villagers were there, washing themselves off after the fire, or just getting ready for the day’s work. She nodded to several as she passed, finally spotting Karadi sitting on a rock.

She sat down next to him.

“Haarith, at least, is alive,” she said slowly. “And the girls.”

“Cadman’s death is not your fault, Lajita,” he said. “You cannot shoulder the blame for every death or disaster fate throws our way.”

“But I can! And I should!” she protested. “I knew Cadman would die this day, and I could have saved him had I but tried harder!”

“Most people cannot wrest even one victory from death,” he countered. “You have won three battles this day; no easy feat.

“You have some knowledge of what the future will bring, but you cannot know everything.”

“But I knew this!”

“Did you? You heard that some children drowned in the Night Ocean, but nobody drowned. The fates you foresaw for those four children did not come to pass. Three yet live, and the fourth died much later, on the morning of a different day, of a different cause.

“What you know did not happen, Lajita.”

“It didn’t happen because I stopped it from happening, as did the other Lajita before me,” she hissed, angry and sad at the same time but trying to keep her voice down.

He reached out and pulled her closer, his arm around her shoulders.

“It’s not your fault, love, and nobody thinks it is.”

He held her for a moment, then stood, shaking his sea-wet hair.

“I have to wash the salt off… Do you want to get in, too, or shall we just go home?”

She let out a deep sigh and pushed herself up, hands on her thighs.

“Let’s just go home, Karadi.”

END