Chapter 12: Water for Strangers
Mataon’s surviving boot slipped on the third stone.
Splsh.
Cold water climbed his ankle. Orvek caught his sleeve before the rest of him followed.
"I had that," Mataon whispered.
"You were falling," Zahr said.
"I was testing the depth."
"With your face?"
"Walk," Almina said, before he could answer.
The blindfold turned the route into sound and pressure. Water brushing stone on his left.
Shhh. Shhh. Shhh.
Ivara’s fingers closed on his wrist whenever the path narrowed. Orvek held his sleeve from behind. Barni kept bumping his right calf, either guiding him or filing a complaint.
The route bent twice. The air cooled.
Then Ivara stopped so sharply that he walked into her shoulder.
Her bow came up.
Mataon froze. "That was you stopping, not me failing to stop. I would like the record corrected."
"There is no record," Zahr said.
"Then this world has already failed administratively."
Cloth scraped over stone. Orvek moved past him. A moment later the blindfold loosened.
Ivara pulled it away and kept one hand in front of his face until he was looking where she wanted.
They stood in a narrow pocket cut into the rock. The passage west vanished behind a curtain of roots. The stream crossed the floor in two shallow channels and joined under a low shelf of grey stone.
He could see the water and the wall opposite. Nothing beyond it.
A safe place to rest without learning the route.
Ivara pointed at his eyes. Then at the western roots.
"Don’t look west," Mataon said.
She tapped two fingers against her bow.
"And the second reminder is an arrow. Clear procedure."
Barni shook water off one paw.
Frrp.
Most of it landed on Mataon’s coat.
"Your support remains invaluable."
Barni sat with his back to him.
Orvek lowered himself against the wall. The movement pulled at the wound under his wrap. His jaw tightened. He made no sound.
Ivara took one waterskin off her belt.
One.
Mataon looked at Orvek’s dry lips. At Ivara’s controlled breathing. At Barni’s tongue showing between his teeth. At his own hands, which were trembling again.
Four drinkers. One container. No idea when they would find another clean source.
Ivara gave the waterskin to Orvek first.
He drank once and passed it back.
She pushed it at him again.
He refused.
Their argument started with two gestures and reached open hostility in under five seconds.
"Efficient," Mataon said.
"You admire poor conflict resolution," Almina replied.
"I admire speed."
Mataon held out his hand.
Both of them stopped and looked at him.
He pointed at the waterskin, then drew four short lines in the wet grit. Beside Orvek’s line he drew two marks. Beside Ivara’s, one. Beside Barni’s, one. Beside his own, half a mark.
Ivara stared at the drawing.
Then she erased his half mark with her boot and gave him two.
"That seems excessive."
"You cannot organize anyone while unconscious," Zahr said.
"I have attended meetings that suggest otherwise."
"You died after one."
"That was terrorism, not poor chairmanship."
"Drink the water," Almina said.
Ivara held the waterskin against his chest.
Mataon drank. Not much. Enough that the ache under his ribs eased and his tongue stopped feeling like cloth.
He passed it to Barni, who sniffed the opening, looked at Ivara, and drank in careful little laps.
Lap. Lap. Lap.
He stopped before she pulled it away.
Orvek took the next share without arguing. Ivara drank last.
Nobody got what they wanted. Everybody got enough to keep moving.
That was usually the beginning of a workable policy.
• •
Ivara crouched in front of him and took his hand before he could object.
Two fingers against his wrist. She counted his pulse, checked the colour under his nails, then reached toward the mark below his left eye.
Mataon leaned back.
Her hand stopped.
He pointed at the mark, shook his head, and held up one finger. Slowly.
Ask first.
Ivara watched him for a second, then opened her palm in question.
Mataon nodded.
Her thumb touched the skin under the mark. Pain ran behind his eye. He hissed and caught her wrist on instinct.
Orvek shifted. Barni stood. The little rock pocket filled up with bad decisions.
Mataon let go immediately.
"Pain," he said, pointing at the mark. Then touched his chest and shook his head. "Not you."
Ivara did not soften. She did wait until he lowered his hand before checking again.
"A successful medical consultation," Mataon murmured.
"You nearly started a fight," Zahr said.
"A successful consultation by emergency-room standards."
"Your standards are becoming suspiciously convenient," Almina said.
Ivara coiled the thread around two fingers and held it near his wrist.
The moss darkened blue at once.
She pointed at the stream.
Mataon crouched. The water ran clear over pale gravel, silver weed leaning with the current. Nothing on the surface. That did not make it safe.
He asked a narrow question. Only what the water could do about the trace, given what they had already seen.
<---------------------------------------------------------->
[All-Knowing Worlds - Local Observation]
Observed effect:
running water disrupts weak residual transmission;
moving mineral particles scatter passive trace patterns;
scent and surface residue are reduced through washing.
Not affected:
active registered claims;
reserved Authority costs;
direct recognition by a valid witness;
deliberate tracking already fixed on the petitioner.
Current confidence: 64%
Warning: Reduced transmission is not severance.
<---------------------------------------------------------->
The answer was less than he wanted and more than nothing.
"The water can blur the trail," he said. "It can’t cancel the claim."
Ivara understood none of the words. He used the thread instead.
He pointed at the blue moss, dipped his hand in the stream, and motioned for her to test him again.
She caught his wrist before he could put the divine mark on his face under the water too.
"I was not going to drown myself."
"Your history weakens that assurance," Zahr said.
"Once. I died once."
"It was memorable."
Ivara waited while the water ran over his hand and sleeve. Then brought the thread close.
The blue came back. Slower. Faint at first.
Then stronger.
Her shoulders came down a fraction. Not relief. A smaller emergency.
She pointed at the stream, at Mataon, then along the channel deeper into the rock pocket. Then at Orvek’s boots and Barni’s paws.
Wash everything that touched the eastern trail.
Mataon nodded.
They worked without language.
Orvek cleaned mud from his boots and the lower edge of his wrap. Ivara rinsed the control-seal plate and sealed it in waxed cloth. Mataon washed his remaining boot, his hands, and the torn hem of his coat.
Barni objected to being placed in the shallow channel.
Grrr-rrp.
"You walked through blood, mud, and one dead animal," Mataon told him. "This is not persecution."
Barni hooked both front paws over a stone and refused to move.
Ivara pushed gently from behind.
Barni turned his head and showed her one small white tooth.
She stopped.
"He has invoked diplomatic immunity," Mataon said.
"He has threatened the scout," Zahr answered.
"Diplomacy has several schools."
"Wash the animal," Almina sighed.
It took all three of them.
Splsh. Scrb. Frrrp.
Barni came out soaked, furious, and twice his normal width. He shook himself between Mataon and Ivara.
FWHRRP.
Ivara closed her eyes as the water hit her face.
And for the first time, Orvek laughed.
It was rough and short and surprised, as if the sound had got out before he could stop it. Barni stared at him, plainly noting a future grievance.
The laugh stopped when a distant metal note travelled through the stone behind them.
Tnnng.
The bellwire.
Not beside them. Further east, passed from one listener to the next.
Ivara corked the waterskin.
Her hand went to the black cord at her wrist. Three knots had been tied into it. She touched the third, then pointed at the hidden western roots and shook her head.
No further. Not on her word alone.
She pointed at herself. One finger. Then raised two.
A second scout was needed before a stranger crossed the third waterline.
Mataon nodded. A rule that limited her own discretion.
He liked it immediately. That worried him.
"You approve," Zahr said.
"A field agent shouldn’t be able to expose an entire refuge alone."
"You have known her for twenty-seven minutes."
"And already she has more oversight than several governments."
Ivara motioned for silence.
Something had moved in the joined channel under the stone shelf.
Not against the current. With it.
A small head rose until only two black eyes and a line of wet blue skin showed above the water.
It looked at Ivara. Then Orvek. Then Mataon. Then Barni.
No teeth. No charge. No fear.
Click.
The creature blinked.
Click.
It looked at Orvek.
Click.
Ivara slowly raised four fingers.
Click.
Barni’s pale blue eye narrowed.
The creature kept staring at Mataon.
Click.
Five.
There were four bodies in the rock pocket.
Then it slipped under the surface and swam west, toward the route Ivara was not allowed to show him.