Cannibal Kings - A Dark Coming of Age Fantasy

NADYA

Jeran boils a warm broth for Kaki and I. It is a thin, tasteless meal that even challenges the servant’s rations—we often have the last bowl in the Fortress. He speaks more of his architectural designs to Kaki and of the wordless books. To my dismay, he and Kaki discuss other titles which were not wordless, titles that Kaki has picked up in the Youth Library or the Library of Kirill. While Kaki explains the different ways in which the City was described to be covered in stone, Jeran sketches. Kaki nods, agreeing that this vision of the City was how he imagined it to once be, according to Var-Nashi. He and Kaki speak of the maths which would have had to been utilized for buildings such as those.

When he mentions the Cat’talris, Jeran again says that he should visit Lucy. “She worked in religious and plague-related studies when she was a Scholar,” he says.

“A Scholar?” I say. Shame comes upon me. I’d automatically assumed that this Lucy was like Jeran and myself; not Pure enough to read.

“Well,” he says. “Not officially.”

I am not excluded from the conversation, but I do not quite let myself listen in. In the back of my mind, I see those children. Over and over and over.

“We should go,” Kaki says. “The Sergeants will be looking for us.”

“Yes, yes,” Jeran says. A shuffling behind me. “Dear Nadya, do you like to sew? I know many servants of the Fortress do.”

I nod and turn to see him rummaging through his shelf. “It’s my hobby.”

“Your hobby,” he says with a laugh. “As though you can have only one. Ah. Here it is.”

He hands me a packet of papers, made of real bark and not skin. “They are from Lucy as well,” he says. “I was saving them for my daughters, but… well, that is a story for another time.”

I flip the first page and gasp. They are patterns for various dresses. Elegant sorts, gorgeous sorts, of many different old styles. There are long kiminis, with their ruffled ends and puffed sleeves. Slim, womanly janas, which are a Mecraenton staple for many noble women but are hard to find pattern for, armas that have been customized to be more fashionable.

But my heart sores when I see the printed words on the side of each page. I drop the packet. The pages, which were held together with a wooden clip, fall apart in a pile onto the ground and I take an awkward step away. A gust of wind blows, worsening the mess.

“Sorry!” I cry. “Sorry.”

Jeran laughs and kneels to pick of the pages, but visibly winces at the effort, so I do so. I hand him back the pages. “I’m sorry, but I can’t have these. They are really beautiful, but… I can’t.”

Even without the words written for all eyes aside from mine to see, I would not have been able to make these dresses for myself. I keep only two frocks on me for a reason, when I could have had three. My Ospry Moon tempts me, and I am a gullible, guilty Soul.

He knows immediately what I mean. “I see.”

“I’ll take them,” Kaki says.

“Kaki—” I try.

“Perhaps I like wearing dresses,” he says. “Perhaps I like to sew and you don’t know it.”

“I know you don’t.”

He takes the collected papers from Jeran’s hands anyway.

***

Jeran offered to walk us through the City to find the Sergeants, but Kaki didn’t want him to get in trouble. He did not want it to seem as though Jeran had coerced us into his apartment or anything of the sort. I thank Jeran heartedly and even manage to shake his paper-thin hands. He gives me an old scarf to cover my mouth from the smells of the City and pins to clip it against the back of my cloak.

Kaki flips through the designs from Lucy. I try to get him to stop, as I am paranoid. The sound of metal clinking and distant laughter and a slowly rolling fog make me shiver. I need Kaki, who knows this City better than I, to be aware and on guard, instead of having his face in a book.

“...and triple-back stitch is recommended for the hood of this arma,” he reads, “for it allows for more security and—”

“Stop it,” I interrupt.

He eyes me warily. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. You’ve nothing to be sorry for. I mean that. I’m sorry too.”

“As to you, Nadya.” We walk around a street corner and immediately dodge away. A group of thin, hunched men stand there bellowing and banging pans against a doorframe. I hear the screaming of a woman. We try a different turn, only to find it lined with chained bodies.

How could the Suns let this happen?

My faith is a beautiful thing. I would never give it up, as much as I dare to question it. My faith is the reason why I get out of bed each morning—it gives me something to live for. A goal. A Pure purpose. But I wonder how much it causes me to stop questioning. No, that is not right. It is not that I do not question. It is that I do not pursue such things.

“How is it that you are able to read the wordless books?” I ask Kaki. “They are blank pages. I don’t… I don’t get it. Maybe I do not understand how reading works, but I thought you have to be able to see the words on the page. Or is that not true?”

Kaki raises a brow but does not express any surprise in my asking. I’m glad for it. “Well… the truth is, I don’t know. I don’t read them in our language.”

“You know another language?”

“That’s the thing. I don’t. I don’t know how best to describe this. But I don’t see the words either. I hear the, up here.” He points to his head. “I mean, you always hear words in your head as you read, but not as I do, I don’t think. It feels… almost like a voice. Speaking to me.”

“That’s—”

“Yeah?”

“No, go on.”

“Whenever I look at those books, I hear It. In a tongue I believe is as ancient as the texts themselves. I mean, I’ve only been calling them texts because they are bound in page form, but I suppose, by definition, they are anything but.”

“So… it’s like a vision,” I say. “Sent to you as—”

“No, no. Here, wait. Get out of the way. That coach is about to barrel through us.” We scramble onto the side of the street, pressed up against a wooden wall. Above it, a drawing of a bag to indicate that it is a Shop for General Items. It it closed, the lights out. “It’s not a vision, or an auditory vision, or anything like that, Nadya. I don’t know how to describe it.”

“But Jeran can’t hear it? Or this Lucy?”

“No, I don’t think so. When he gave me the book, he could not.” He sighs. “It gets you wondering, right? I told you about the lost religion, the Shenai’s Cat’talris. Well, a lost religion, a lost City of Gold, and a lost form of writing? Or communication, or whatever this is? It doesn’t make sense does it?” He looks out, running a hand through his long black hair. When he turns back, it is with a grin. “One Moon, it will make sense to me. You know, Nadya, I actually had a very similar reaction to the wordless books that you did to these scrolls.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” he says. “I know that what I hear isn’t normal. I suppose that ‘not being normal’ should be my normal at this point… it took me eight Moons to come back to the City, to ask for the diary from Jeran again. We’d been exchanging books and information for some time, then: between me, him, and Lucy. But it didn’t really amount to anything. Until Var-Nashi’s diary. It scared me, a little, Nadya, to hear that Voice. And I had no one else to speak to about it. To be gifted an ancient tongue should be a horrific thing, should it not?”

“It makes you uncomfortable,” I realize.

“Yes,” he says. “A bit. Perhaps in another life, I’d have been a good noble boy. Maybe I would actually care for the Trials. Maybe I would have been the youngest Court member to be admitted. That would have been nice, wouldn’t it? But I can’t see myself doing that. I’ve agonized over it countless times. I know it is all a matter of will: of course, I could force myself to study for the Trials and be a part of the Court. I could learn to understand our politics in a way that would be seen as productive. But—perhaps it is a bit selfish of me to think this. There is a small, spiteful part of my brain that does not want to ever work with these people. I try not to think of the past, but the thought of working with the other Pure kids makes me sick. You understand?”

Up until just now, I have never heard Kaki ever bring up the proposition of ‘another life.’

I suppose I’d always thought it was only ever I who daydreamed of something more, of an alternate reality where I’d have been a better version of myself. Perhaps Kaki has understood me better than I’ve understood myself this whole time.

“And yet I pursue wordless books and ancient histories, because they interest me.” He cocks his head. “Maybe it’s silly—”

“No, I get it,” I say. “I completely get it.”

“I know.” He twiddles with the edge of his cloak. “Whenever someone like the Lightened Ranna and the Father come around, I think of the fact that I could be a savior, if I really wanted to. The other nobles have not realized this yet, but they should soon: I would be an asset to the Court just as much as I would be a hindrance. If I were to play my cards right, they could use my lack of Enlightenment as a way to exploit the cultish groups which have already formed around my existence. No one does this. I keep a low enough profile to avoid such things, but I imagine that, when I’m older, people will realize. Perhaps this is also silly, but I want to pursue these histories as long as I am able, before my lineage as Enlightened Everleigh’s blood and my Purity catch up to me, whether I am a part of the Court or not, I will have a hand in its functionings. I already know that. That is why I’m sorry for bringing you here. It’s a selfish whim of mine and I can tell it’s traumatized you and—”

“Don’t call yourself selfish. Don’t you dare. Or if you are, so am I.”

“No,” he says earnestly. “Nadya, you are anything but. Don’t try to protest. Let me have this.”

I am silent for a long time. Truly, I do not know what to say.

I consider Kaki to be my best friend. Surely, I am his. And yet I lack the words to convey just how much it means that he has opened up in this way. For this is a side of him I have not seen.

We stand in a foreign City, surrounded by dead bodies and gutters of blood, the Moons glowering above us. I still flinch when I hear a metal hit metal from the apartment above me, mistaking it for the same shot I heard at the Fyi Festival. This is where we are, and yet this is the closest I have felt to Kaki in a long time.

“I understand,” I say. “Thank you for telling me.”

I have always believed one does not need physical touch to show or understand love. It is not simply the temptation of the indulgence of excess touch, it is a personal belief. But, for the first time in my life, I understand why one would yearn for a hug instead. Sometimes words are not enough to express your gratitude.

So, very tentatively, I reach out a hand and squeeze Kaki’s forearm.

He does not hide the shock from his expression. I pull away quickly, glaring at the ground. He says nothing further.

Soon after, the Sergeants find us. They berate us, they yell at us for running away. Kaki explains that we were scared and confused, and my shock is still visible enough on my face for them to believe it. We are ushered back into the coach that follows them.

***

Missus Yarna, to my surprise, waits at the gates of the Fortress. Word of the protest has gotten back to our capital, leaving she and many of the other servants worried about my safety. She rushes towards me as I leap out of the carriage, Kaki in tow. The other servants bombard me with questions while Missus Yarna demands that I be brought back to the Ospry Temple at once for Prayer and then to be washed-up.

And so, once more, I watch the City from the Fortress, safe within four walls and with a roof over my head, as I have always done.

I sit at the Temples and thank the Suns for my safety, for the love they show me.

I find myself crying on the balcony. When Missus Yarna notices this, she says, quite alarmed, “Nadya? Where are you hurt?”

“Nowhere,” I say. I do not know why I am crying: I was a mere witness to violence, not its victim or perpetrator. Perhaps I cry because I am grateful.

The next Moon, Enlightened Everleigh calls upon Kaki and I. We enter her large chamber and find her sat on the ground, like a child, completely naked. Her long white hair covers her chest while her knees are up to her chin. I glance away with a gasp while Kaki tries to keep himself from gagging.

“Oh, Suns, I did not need to see this right now. Auntie,” Kaki says, “what are you doing?”

“Bakiyoria,” she says. “They tell me you almost died in the City. Is this true?”

Kaki shakes his head. “No. No, that is an exaggeration—”

“If you were to die in the City, hardly anyone would care, I think,” she muses. “Or perhaps the people would care too much. I don’t know. I don’t remember. Bakiyoria, they tell me that you associate yourself with the Boneheads. Is that true? The Sergeants… Mitia… is this true?”

“I—no, Enlightened, it’s not—”

“But you sneak around so often,” she murmurs. “So, so often. I know, they know. They all know. They whisper to me that they know.”

“Who is ‘they?’” Kaki demands. “Suns, nevermind. I won’t get a straight answer out of you, will I? You knew we were going to the Fyi Festival. I suppose you should discuss with the Court what we saw. The Boneheads may become a problem if the public panics and thinks that we do not have the ability to protect the children of our City, like they so graciously showed in the—”

Enlightened Everleigh interrupts with, “The people say you need someone to reel you in. You cause havoc, everywhere you go. Even if you are not physically there, you cause havoc, Bakiyoria. They say it was you who enticed the Boneheads because you have the power of prophecy. That is what they will say. Why do you do this? Why can you not remember to stay quiet?”

“I do remain quiet,” Kaki says.

“I know. I know.” Enlightened Everleigh rubs her forehead. “I was fourteen when I was married off, Bakiyoria. The Court says you need a wife. Or a husband. Prince or princess of the Cratic, I do not mind. Take your pick. They are twins, not much older than you.”

“Wait, what? Hold on, what are you saying—”

“The Sen Fair comes soon. That is the excuse I gave. You will be Purer during the Sen Fair. You will make friends and prove your usefulness at the Sen Fair, to the Court. Yes, you see? Everyone knows your lack of effort towards the Trials, but you will prove you love this Fortress at the Sen Fair, you see? You see, Bakiyoria? Please tell me you see.” Her voice cracks. “I forgot to tell you something and now I don’t remember.”

“Are you trying to marry me off?” he says. “To the Cratic?”

“No,” she says. “Not soon. Not now. But if you do not become a member of the Court, you must be useful in other ways. That’s what they are saying. That is what they mean.”

“Who is ‘they?’” Kaki demands.

Enlightened Everleigh shrugs. She waves a hand and the light from the room filters in to center around Kaki. It lights up the burn marks on his face and arms. She creates a circle of pale white light that traps him, leaving everything else in darkness. I cannot keep my jaw from dropping. From this perspective, Kaki seems an ethereal being.

But then, with another wave of a hand, Enlightened Everleigh manipulates the light to cast a deep set of shadows onto Kaki. It fractures his face and his skin, so that it ages him. His dark hair does him an injustice. He seems absolutely Soulless, devoid of life. She draws the light to create a web-pattern of shadows, only further trapping him.

I realize that this is the most concern she has ever conveyed for her nephew her entire life, and done so without a single word spoken.

“Your life is not yours, Bakiyoria,” she says. “Just as my life was never mine. Be smart. You are no child. You are caught in a web of politics.”

“I know that,” he says. He shows his burnt arm. “Suns, I know that, Auntie. I’m trying.”

“You lie. Neither of us are.”

And then the light goes out completely. Enlightened Everleigh casts us aside with an incoherent: “My girl, my girl, my girl. Go away. Stay safe, my girl. My girl, my girl, my girl….”

The Sunlight never returns. We must find our way back to the door in darkness.

***

Kaki said nothing when we left her chambers. I asked if he was alright, and he just nodded and said that we should both go to sleep.

The next Moon, I hear rumors that he went to one of the Temples and Prayed. As Kaki is not one to ever visit a Temple unless forced to, this causes a lot of commotion around the Fortress. Many agree that he had something to do with the protest at the Fyi Festival, which most do not view as a Fortress but an act of terrorism against the children of the City—the timing is too suspicious. The boy who is both rumored to be a savior by some in other Cities and the bringing of our end in others is right there when almost thirty-five children are killed? This is clearly the Suns warning us to keep Bakiyoria away from Enlightenment, some say. No, it means that we need a new Enlightened to keep terrorists like the Boneheads away as our current ones do nothing, and Bakiyoria is the closest to Enlightenment out of anyone here, others say.

But I choose not to believe that he even went to the Temples. Rumors only harm him.