Moth

CHAPTER SIX: THE TOWERS OF PAHMEY

CHAPTER SIX

THE TOWERS OF PAHMEY

She thought the wilderness would never end.

Koyee stood upon her boat's prow, watching the darkness of Eloria spread all around. She had spent her life in Oshy upon the border, the glow of the day always to her west, but here full night engulfed every horizon. The moon shone overhead, casting its light upon the Inaro River and rocky plains. Distant black hills rolled to her south, silver limning their facades. Ahead, in the east, she saw only shadows.

The great constellations shone above: the dragon, the snake, the wolf, and many others. Koyee looked up at those stars and sought her constellation, the stars of the leaping fish. Most people worshiped the bright constellations of noble beasts. The fish was smaller and dimmer, but Koyee had chosen it long ago, not only because she was the daughter of a fisherman, but also because she felt sorry for the stars nobody prayed to. And so they had become her stars, and she prayed to them now.

"Protect me on my journey, Sky Fish. Look after me, and look after the spirit of my father."

She returned her eyes to the landscape, seeking the lights of a distant city, of the great Pahmey. She had heard so many tales of the place. They said that hundreds of thousands of people lived there. Koyee had spent her life in Oshy among a hundred souls; she could not imagine a thousand, let alone hundreds of thousands. They said the towers of that city touched the stars themselves, and that a million lamps glowed in windows and upon walls. Surely a city like that would shine like the moon itself, casting its glow for miles.

And yet, as Lodestar flowed downriver, Koyee saw no lights. Once she passed another boat, a dinghy with a lamp, two fishermen, and a single sail. The men waved at her and rowed on. She saw no more life.

Leaving the prow, she checked her hourglass, which she had placed upon the deck. Its bottom bulb was painted with a moon, the top with a sun. A few years ago, a peddler had sold her this trifle for five copper coins. The crazy old man had claimed that millennia ago the world would turn, night following day in an endless dance.

"The sand will flow from moon to sun for the length of an ancient day," he had said, presenting her with the hourglass. "The world has fallen still, but with this masterwork, you can measure the passage of stilled time. It's how they tell time in the big, eastern cities."

Koyee had laughed, thinking him a fool, but bought the hourglass, for its paintings were pretty and its sand glittered like gold. Of course the man had spoken only legends, but Koyee liked to pretend. Since that day years ago, she often let her hourglass run from day to night, then flipped it over again, pretending that the world still spun like in the stories, that the day of Timandra would shine upon Eloria, then retreat again. Often Koyee found it comforting to sleep throughout the night of her hourglass, waking as the sand filled its sunny bulb.

She gazed at the timepiece now. When first sailing out, she had set it sunny-side up, and now the sand was almost drained into its night half. Koyee yawned and her stomach rumbled. She rummaged through her pack and produced a jar of matsutakes--long pale mushrooms she favored. She ate them slowly, savoring each one, letting the earthy flavor spread across her tongue.

"We'll have to ration this food, Eelani," she said to her shoulder spirit. "It's only enough for several days, and I don't know where we'll find more, so don't be greedy."

She raised a mushroom to her shoulder and let Eelani eat. Sometimes she almost believed that Eelani truly nibbled, that the morsels grew smaller. Other times she thought she was crazy. She smiled, placed the mushroom in her mouth, and chewed slowly.