Blossom

"Historical accounts suggest there are more far more species of demons than have ever been named. The absence of categorization and thorough study of infernals remains the greatest threat such creatures pose to the civilizations of mankind." --

Preface to the

Infernal Compilation

of Lady Keya Oko, scribe and Magister-Aspirant, c. 3123 by the Ummran calendar.

*****

Mangroves hugged the shoreline, as far as I could see to the north and south. Exposed roots of the trees crouched over the turquoise waters of the bay like an endless march of millipede legs, screening the vast swamp beyond.

Somewhere, living or dead in that great morass, was my brother.

"Stay on the ship, Lady Keya," Jinai insisted. Her rough, scarred hands -- surely not those of a maid -- gripped the wooden rail of the trading ship as if she were strangling it. "Let Musa lead some of the House guards. It will be safe here."

Jinai's severe expression might have cut stone. Her pinched brow and steely black eyes would never be called pretty. But she possessed the brutal elegance of a panther.

Not for the first time, I wondered whether there was actual affection behind that scowl. Or was it simply a professional inclination to not watch me get myself killed?

My expression, as it always was, lay concealed behind a golden painted mask.

I looked homewards up the coastline, north beyond sight, to where the great city of Namu sprawled. "Mother has already sent a full cohort of House warriors here," I replied. "They returned without Zahar."

"Then how can you -- "

"I am now the oldest child of House Oko," I said, cutting her off. "I am a trained adept to the Temple of Ascendants. I have studied Zahar's expedition, and the stories of this swamp. I am going to find him."

Seku's crewmen finished loading the large canoe with our baskets and gifts. Then the stout merchant and a pair of his sailors climbed down the rope net into the boat, followed by Musa, with his massive hunting bow. Jinai descended nimbly, the slit in her white caftan flaunting an expanse of dark brown skin and lissome thighs.

I glanced down at my gown. It was fashionable but unwieldy. A flowing scarlet confection of cotton and gold thread draped over my bangled wrists, concealing billowing breasts, and covering my sandaled feet. The dress showed as little skin as possible, hiding my pallor both from the sun and hateful attentions. I often wore gloves of eastern silk, even in the humid depths of storm season.

The idea that these roughened seamen might get such a glimpse of my milky pale legs was... unsettling.

Two Oko guards offered to help me. I waved them away, opting instead to perform an ungainly roll over the railing. As my raw, sunburnt fingers grasped the rough palm fiber, I wondered if I was indeed taking this too far.

Zahar was the brave explorer, the slayer of demons. I rarely left the dusty galleries of the Magisterium. I clambered down the side and into the canoe. My descent resembled a tumble more than it did a climb, but I managed to settle gingerly onto a bench of the boat.

The two sailors rowed us towards the river mouth, past a half-submerged sandbar alive with the nests of zebra-striped plovers. A group of fishermen were just now venturing out to trade, long boats piled high with dried fish.

I took one last look at the double-masted dhow, and the six guards in Oko red and gold that I was leaving behind. Another show of force was not going to find Zahar. When the cohort had come to the swamp, weeks before, they had rowed to the cluster of fishing villages where Zahar was last seen. I guessed that no one there was willing to speak truth out of fear.

I would take a different approach.

I drew in a deep breath of salt air. I took off my mask, baring pallid features to the harsh sun.

Musa and Jinai were veteran retainers of House Oko. They had seen what lay behind the mask. The lean bowman smiled nervously at me. Jinai only scowled. She sat beside me, eyes like flint as she surveyed the channel ahead.

Seku and his sailors tried -- unsuccessfully -- not to stare. They were hired only to take us in to the villages, make introductions, and bring us back to the trader. Since there was some shade here, I unwrapped my headdress, revealing straw-colored, wiry hair. I felt naked before them.

I shivered, not unpleasantly, at the thought. I had been freed from my bindings. I was vulnerable.

Everyone knew of the cursed daughter of Oko. The albino with skin of bone-hue and hair of yellow. I stuffed the painted mask into my satchel and eased closer to the merchant, pretending to ignore the spectacle.

I asked Seku about his trade with the locals. How often would he ply these waters, meeting boats with baskets of prawn and crab for the markets in Namu? What did it cost him? What prices did he offer the fishermen? The man, with his tufted beard and easy smile, seemed to sour a little with the questions.

But he answered nonetheless. House Oko was his most important buyer. I was the acting leader of the House.

The sailors rowed us down a watercourse as placid as blown glass, so narrow that it would be difficult to turn the boat. The shining backs of porpoises crested the surface ahead and in our wake. Storm-colored shorebirds passed overhead, far above. These were the headwaters of the Ijon, a river that formed the border of the Ikanje Empire with the Flamingo Coast to the south, and the Hill Kingdoms to the west.

The channel twisted and turned until the sails of the dhow disappeared far behind, and we were surrounded by foliage as bright as emeralds. The odor of bad eggs and saltwater had not dissipated since we left the open sea. Shapes of fish and seaweed lurked beneath the rippling green water, denizens of a shadow world. I resisted the urge to unfurl a scroll and record what I was seeing, and instead resolved to commit its beauty to memory.

"Lady Keya," Seku smiled, "I struggle to see the purpose of this expedition. The people of these villages are simple and coarse. They cannot comprehend the richness and value of life as we do in the great city of Namu. I fear you waste your time."

The waterway split, and the sailors rowed us into an open lagoon. Birds and frogs called across the placid surface.

"And there are rumors," the merchant insisted, "of smugglers, bandits and worse that hide out in the swamps. It is not safe."

Musa licked his lips and began to string his bow. Jinai scanned the marsh like a bird of prey. Big puffs of kinky, dark hair on the sides of her head quivered in the salt breeze. She turned and looked me in the eye.

"I have heard such rumors," she said.

She was, in her way, saying much more. Jinai was common-born. She had been a scavenger until she was near grown - one of the hundreds of savage children who roamed the alleys and pits of Namu. The habits of thieves and bandits were not far from her experience.

Jinai served as both a clandestine bodyguard and the closest thing I had to a friend. She and I were opposites in almost every way. I had long ago accepted my fascination with her fierceness, but it was not a sentiment I could ever share.

I felt no obligation to answer to the merchant. Jinai, on the other hand...

"I'm certain this is nothing beyond the capabilities of Musa and your brave men," I said to the trader. "Your assistance has been invaluable, Seku. I welcome your counsel. But I have decided."

This is what was required of me. To project confidence, even when I did not feel it. My father was ailing, my mother indecisive, my sisters only girls. I was the leader of House Oko, and that meant taking certain risks.

I became lost in those thoughts as we paddled through tight waterways, and the sun's rays twinkled through the treetops. The lagoon was brown and muddy here, with yellowed leaves floating on the surface like scattered pieces of gold. The warmth was like a bath. Sweat trickled down my spine under the gown, slicking my sides, and dampening the heated insides of my thighs.

Even being so physically close to others was a new experience to me. I had spent most of the day-long journey on board the dhow in the cabin.

Now I found my gaze drawn to the muscled chest of the sailor at the prow as he rowed. The men smelled pungently of fresh sweat, and faint coconut from the oil on their dark skin. I shifted on the wooden bench, uncomfortable with where my imagination was taking me. I had never lain with a man. I had long doubted I would ever have the chance.

"Lady Keya," Musa nodded sharply towards our rear. I turned, squinting to see a vaguely human shape, up in the tree boughs. From the corner of my eye, I saw more movement, obscured by dappled light and shadow.

Musa, kneeling in the well of the boat, drew an arrow. The lethal shaft was near the length of my leg. Musa was born of a famed tribe of elephant hunters. With such weapons, they could bring down even those magnificent beasts.

"They are all around us," Jinai urged. "My Lady!"

"Do what you must," I said quickly to the archer.

Musa arched his spine, drawing the bowstring back past his jaw, and let the arrow fly. By the time his target screamed, the bowman was drawing and aiming again.

Other attackers reared up from the water, wild-looking men with mats of fibrous grass and twigs in their hair. A net flew through the air towards our boat. The sailor in the stern batted it away with his paddle, and it sunk into the swamp.

Men came surging through the shallow water on both sides. The sailors leapt overboard. Seku and his men did battle with knives and paddles.

In an eye's blink, a short baton appeared in Jinai's grasp. The handmaid wielded it with vicious efficiency, laying out two attackers on the right side of the boat in as many heartbeats.

I nearly lost my balance and fell overboard. But I managed to clutch my satchel of scrolls. I huddled over it, legs and arms splayed like a crab, hoping that the boat didn't capsize. I winced at the cries of pain and the smack of wood striking flesh.

In moments, the fight was over. Four men lay floating, dead or dying. I guessed that Musa had dispatched more, and that some few might have escaped.

Jinai and Musa hauled the unconscious body of one of the men she had struck over the side and into the boat.

"Is anyone hurt?" I asked, hoping only to sound useful.

"No," said Seku. His sailors, after scanning the waters, steadied and climbed back into the boat. "But we need to get to the village as soon as possible."

As the crewmen began to row, following a route known only to them, the rest of us tied our captive's wrists and ankles. He had to lay nearly upon our feet in the close quarters. Jinai stuffed cloth in his mouth to gag him. The club she had used to such devastating effect had vanished again, somewhere in her voluminous caftan.

The man smelled of the swamp, of mustiness and decay. While he looked strong enough, he was older, with missing teeth and streaks of gray in unkempt hair and beard.

I scrutinized him, wondering if he was indeed a bandit and why he would attack us. I looked forward to questioning him.

I glanced up. Jinai was watching me.

"You should have stayed on the ship," she said quietly.

*

Demons ran rampant on the outskirts of the city of Namu. Such was said in the palm-lined salons and halls of the Magisterium. Scholars told of the infernal creatures ravaging towns, abducting women and eating children. Demonic cults spread like plagues across the countryside, and of hordes of beasts had been summoned by southern witches to invade the Empire. The Hazard -- the teeming slum outside the city's ancestral warding stones -- was even rumored to be ruled by demons preparing to invade the great city itself.

Zahar and I had spent years tracing these reports. He had made a name for himself and House Oko, peeling away the rumors to discover the truth, and slaying a few actual demons.

Like any other scion of a great House of the Ikanje Empire, my brother and I aspired to be magisters, dedicating ourselves to furthering research and pursuing knowledge. But Zahar was a field researcher, relying on his sword as often as his scrolls. I assisted by conferring with scribes and reading through the Magisterial archives. I had compiled a singular collection of historical notes and accounts of demonic activity, but I had never been in real danger before.

By the time we reached the nameless fishing village which had been our destination, sunlight was fading fast, choked off by the spreading canopy. The settlement was built on a hammock -- a level rise of dry ground, crowded with grass huts on wooden stilts. Rickety bridges crossed gullies and connected the hammock with several huts on the edges that floated on rafts in the water. Slim ancestral warding stones that reached up to the treetops marked the perimeter of the little swamp island.

"Aren't you going to wear the mask?" Jinai said.

The Golden Magisters usually wore masks in public. But if I was to get any farther with these villagers than my House already had, I would have to gain their trust.

"No," I said.

A few villagers tramped down to the water's edge with torches to greet us. As amongst the common folk of the city, the man wore a tunic, with the two women also clothed in colorful

kanga

wrap skirts. Seku made proper introductions, and I greeted them with a respectful bow. But they hesitated when they saw my skin, ghostly as it was in the dusk.

"We have rooms for you," one of them, a skinny, balding man stammered, "in the huts of a few of our families."

"What about these that float in the water?" I asked.

"They are working huts, for storage and cleaning fish. You can use them if you wish, Lady, but they are outside the wards."

Whatever offense I had given by not staying in their homes was, I hoped, lessened by my freakish appearance. No one wanted to host a cursed guest.

"My retainers and I will desire some privacy. I can place my own warding stones," I said. "The new stones on the perimeter should strengthen your own wards."

"You are a priestess, Lady?" another, a middle aged woman, asked. She was sober-faced, as if she never smiled.

"I am."

"You must be very powerful," she said, her emphasis on "you".

I didn't take her words as a compliment. There were those that would kill an albino, just to harvest her supposedly magical body parts.

"I can perform naming ceremonies and blessings as you wish," I offered.

The woman gave a polite smile. "We will have food and clean water brought to you."

"Who is this man?" the balding man asked, shining light on the bound captive struggling in our boat.

"He attacked us as we approached the village," Seku said.

"Can you tell us anything about him?" I asked the villagers.

"He is not from here," the woman said, too quickly. "Those are southern markings." She pointed to the scars on the man's cheeks.

We brought our baskets into the floating hut. Seku and his crewmen retired to the huts offered by the villagers, after I thanked him and assured him that we would not need their services more this night.

Before I joined the others, I knelt on the grassy earth in prayer, trying to feel the local spirits. I could glean that these were a hard-working people who had lived on this land for centuries.

From one of the baskets, I withdrew slender warding stones, which Musa and Jinai helped me to sink into the shallow water around the hut's raft. The floating platform stank of dead fish. My fingers, still red from sunburn, stung on the rough clay of the stones. The platform rocked slightly, and twice I nearly stumbled on the hem of my caftan.

"By my nameless father," Jinai swore, after my second near-fall.

She knelt before me, producing a small, curved knife that appeared in her hand like some magic trick. Before I could do more than gasp in shock, she cut a slit in my gown that bared my leg, nearly to the damp junction of my thighs.

"Tomorrow, we're both wearing more practical clothing," she muttered.

Jinai was right, of course. But it wasn't her opinion that had me so unnerved. Because of my station and my color, the only people who ever touched me were the maids who helped me bathe and dress. I hesitated, quivering at that closeness of Jinai, even as she and Musa went on to pound the stones into the mud with wooden mallets.

I kneeled to perform consecration rites, chanting the names of eighteen generations of Oko ancestors. I called upon them, and those of the village, to protect us from demons. As I concentrated, I could again feel those that had been buried under the ground of the settlement, those that the villagers called upon for their blessing and protection.

And I felt more. A spiritual wound scarred this place. One no longer fresh, but still festering and bleeding.

As I was still wavering from the weight of the communion, Jinai helped me to stand. We went inside to inspect our new quarters.

The inside of the circular hut was split into a smaller area with pottery jars of salt and tools for cutting and drying fish, and a larger rear storage area that was mainly empty. The floor was covered with fresh reeds, and we lit a tallow candle under the smoke-hole in the roof.

Jinai and Musa carried the captive into our hut. She wrinkled her nose as she set the man's ankles on the floor. He reeked of his own waste.

Musa cut the gag with his knife. He eyed Jinai and turned to leave, apparently deciding her presence was protection enough. "I'll only be a few steps away, if you need me," he said.

"Why did you attack us?" I asked the captive.

The man stared at me. "Cursed freak," he spat.

The handmaid kicked him over onto his belly. Jinai knelt, grabbing one of his fingers, and giving it a savage twist. I flinched as the bone snapped, and he screamed.

"I serve only Blossom," he moaned, in what seemed to be a clipped accent.

"Tell me about... Blossom," I said, flatly.

He said nothing. Jinai tensed, but I shook my head at her.

"What is your name?" I asked.

"Baba," he said.

"You are from the south?" I asked, in the Gujari dialect that was spoken on the Flamingo Coast.

Baba again said nothing. He was lean enough to have missed a few meals. If he was a bandit, it appeared he wasn't a very successful one. I recalled that the men had been armed with crude clubs when they attacked us.

"Your partners who were with you, they serve Blossom as well?" I said, still in the southern language.

Baba nodded. So he did understand Gujari. His face was broad, and one of his eyes was lazy, which unnerved me as much as his odor.

"Is Blossom human, Baba?" I asked.

"Blossom is more glorious than any human,"

"Would you take me to Blossom?" I asked.

"Gladly," he said, with a gap-toothed grin.

"Is that why you attacked us?"

He nodded, his cheek rubbing against the reeds. "We only wanted to take you to Blossom," he said, still moaning over his broken finger.

"I may grant you that wish," I told him.

I questioned him more, but he gave no more information. Finally, the retainers dragged him back into the boat, still bound and gagged. I followed them. As Musa checked the bonds a final time to ensure that they were secure, I spotted curious villagers watching from the shadows. I would have preferred to post a guard, but I knew our people were tired. Seku and his crew were not House Oko, and I wanted to ask little more of them.

"This man is dangerous," I called to our audience. "Do not free him. We will tend to him in the morning."

Musa took the front room of the hut. Jinai and I retired to the rear. We were both sleeping on two kangas. The cloths could also serve as wrap skirts and mats for carrying burdens atop the head. The handmaid spread hers out near the doorway, which was covered with a thick antelope hide curtain.