Iron Binds

.9. Loka, Padix, Aniugus

Once Leja begins to speak, it is the bursting of a dam. She saw the smoke from their fire as an odd dark plume within the fog and worried that lava had begun to flow in the channels. When, on closer inspection, there was no lava, her curiosity led her to their camp. She belongs to a small group of Sha-Azzuri people, as Corso deduced, who make use of the lava tunnels to hunt and forage undetected on the lush slopes of Sepurci. Their village is by a cove on the north coast, where they can send out fishing boats without being constantly harassed by imperial warships.

And she has not been inside the village in months, for a deadly plague has been slowly eating away at her people, choosing whom it kills, whom it disfigures, and whom it spares apparently at random.

Antare asks for a description of how the illness progresses. For some, Leja says, there is a fever and nothing more. Others' lungs fill with yellow phlegm and their hearts stutter and stop. Others sweat and shit until they die of thirst and malnutrition. Still others recover from their long torment only to find that their hands shake for weeks thereafter, too violently to sew or build or carry water.

"You're sure there aren't multiple diseases?" Antare asks.

"The ones who had the fever alone care for the very ill and never become so themselves," Leja explains. "At first, our khabant said that the old gods were punishing us for cowardice or sin—but then he fell abed with fever, and his eldest daughter choked to death on her own blood. He does not say such things anymore."

Antare nods, though it is likely that only Nezetta can see it in the dark. "Right," he says. "So. Shelter in exchange for healing?"

"You will have to speak with my mother," Leja says, "and she will not trust imperials. But if you are willing to enter the village..."

"And not to leave until the disease runs through me or is cured," Antare finishes.

Nezetta's heart stutters to think of it, of the disease running through Antare, but she says nothing. What choice do they have? An alliance with people who know the island, the environment, is certainly better than living alone in the woods, hopelessly vulnerable while Corso and Antare recover from their injuries.

"I'll be fine," Antare says; Nezetta must be projecting her worry.

"You do not have to do this," Nezetta says.

"No, I do," he replies.

We can find another way, she thinks. She already knows, somehow, that he has decided to do this. More than that, she trusts that he can.

And yet.

"I have a question," says Corso. "Are your people likely to kill me on sight?"

"Not right away," says Leja. "They will hear what I have to say, and then they will hear what he has to say." She gestures toward Antare. "Your fate is not for me to decide."

Nezetta frowns, something hot flaring in her belly: not anger, precisely, but something like it. "No one is killing anyone," she says. "If your mother does not agree to our terms, then we will go on our way in peace."

Leja goes quiet. It strikes Nezetta late that she has spoken out of turn, perhaps broken some sort of unseen social law—but then, as Corso had so eloquently expressed, there is no law here, and she will not abide by implied threats of bloodshed. In the dim light, Leja looks more pensive than angry.

"I will bring my mother to you," Leja says. "She will be protected by her afkhat raaghbenr, who are sworn to defend her against all foes."

"I said peace," Nezetta snaps, the words gone from her body before she can think to hold them inside. "We have no intention of harming your mother."