Reluctantly, Isao moved forward, shuffling his feet. Khalem pushed him on, no doubt to make sure Isao didn’t double back.
Celty hesitated, sending one last glance over her shoulder at Ranbelt. His lips had turned down and his brow was furrowed, giving rise to a mournful expression. He caught her gaze and grinned at her with a full-lipped smile.
One of the tribesmen prodded Celty in the arm and she stumbled back into line.
"He cannot come?" Isao again asked the leader, his voice ringing through the cave corridor as they swept down the darkened hall, now unencumbered by ropes. "What crime has Ranbelt wrought against your people?"
"None," the leader said, the thin figure moving through the dark space with unusual ease.
Celty carefully picked her way along the path, not having adjusted to the darkness.
"Then I must beg you to release him and spare his life. Consider it part of our agreement."
"Why would you work so hard to save him when you have your own freedom?"
"He helped save our lives. And if he is innocent, then he shouldn't die just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I am a leader. My job is to save lives, not see them taken. I ask this of you from a diplomatic standpoint."
While walking, Celty listened to the two of them, attempting to intuit whether this leader was a bad person. She derived no horrible sensations or gut reaction about the Chief. Still, if Isao kept pushing, she thought, the Chief might decide not to let them live.
Fortunately, silence ensued as they continued on through the cave system. Celty glanced at the Prince; clearly he was stewing on the matter; his brow was heavy. Every now and then he opened his mouth as if to speak, before he quickly closed it again.
Celty thought of Ranbelt with a shiver – one of gratitude, one of dread. At least she wasn’t burning.
There was a break in the walls off to the left. The tribesmen walked into it, carrying torches that illuminated the path as they changed direction.
The group stepped into another open space ringed with lit torches and simple decorations. An animal skin decorated with drawings stretched across one wall. A small bed stuffed with dried grasses sat in one corner.
The Chief turned around in the middle of the room, reached for the bottom of the mask, and pulled it off.
Isao and Khalem gasped. Celty stared, speechless.
A beautiful woman no older than thirty had revealed herself. She boasted violet eyes and ebony hair streaked with red highlights.
""Greetings, Chief," Isao murmured, inclining his head. “Thank you for revealing yourself to us."
Celty's heart beat faster. She'd never met another person who looked so much like her. But it was the woman’s eyes – her distinctly violet eyes –that really grabbed Celty's attention.
The two women stared at each other for an eternity, wrapped in the intensity of the moment.
"Svagat sahod," the woman murmured to Celty, never breaking eye contact.
The words weren't Saman, and they weren't the guttural clickings of the tribesmen. They were in some different language – one Celty didn’t know. But they stirred something hot within Celty’s chest, and warmed her heart. There was . . . something familiar in those words.
For just an instant her mind flashed back to a faint memory. From before she was a slave perhaps? Just as quickly, it faded away.
"My name is Rhaeneis," the woman said, turning back to face Isao. "I detect a rare purity in your soul, and that means I want to trust you. I feel that you will keep your promise to me – one day. Though perhaps it may not be possible right now."
There was the sound of approaching feet and a low whistling. Celty whirled around, a gasp on her lips.
Ranbelt.
"Hullo!" he called, waving his fingers. "Guess my lucky start hasn't abandoned me, has it?"
"Ranbelt!" Isao cried, his eyes lighting up. "But . . . you’re alive!"
“Thanks to you, Prince,” Ranbelt sang, accompanied by a nod of his head.
Isao turned to Rhaeneis with questions in his eyes. A thousand questions rushed to Celty's lips, but she held these back. Isao navigated the diplomatic and royal world with ease and talent, and it made no sense to interrupt his impressive skills.
Before Isao could get a question out, Rhaeneis explained, "It was a test. I had no intention of burning him after I learned your identity. Your care and concern for a stranger – particularly one such as him – means that you are pure in heart and likely a leader I can trust. An honorable soul never leaves his allies behind. For this reason, Prince Isao, I have decided to help you."
Khalem clapped a hand on Isao's shoulders and squeezed.
Isao bowed his head. "Thank you, Chief, for your trust. You have my deepest appreciation.”
"There is an easier pass through Shonin, one that will be far safer for you to take. We will allow you to pass through it. I will have two of my guards take you to ensure your safe passage."
Two more guards stepped into the room, holding Ranbelt's mandolin and hunting knife, Isao and Khalem's weapons, and a leather bag.
The former captives accepted their belongings as one guard gave the unfamiliar bag to Celty. She slipped it open to find pouches of fresh water, dried meat, and a few pouches of leafy greens. Two lengths of rope and leather strips, no doubt meant to be bandages, were at the bottom.
"Food," Rhaeneis said, meeting her gaze. "Not much of it, as we have little to give, but it will help. And provisions. Enough to get the four of you through the worst of the mountains. I wish you the greatest luck on your journey. May you complete it swiftly, then return home to restore us to honor."
Isao bowed before the Chief and knelt down. Celty sucked in a sharp breath. Prince Isao –soon to be Emperor of the entire empire – kneeling before a wild tribeswoman?
"Rhaeneis, your generosity is most appreciated."
Rhaeneis nodded once, studying him with approving eyes. "I see you give me respect, Isao, and I give it to you in return. May we work together for the betterment of all our peoples."
While Isao stood and the small group prepared to leave, Celty gazed on Rhaeneis. An urge to talk to her – to question her relentlessly – poured through Celty. Why did they have eyes of the same color? The same streaks of red in their dark hair? Such things couldn't be an accident. They never were.
"I know your questions," Rhaeneis declared. "I know what you desire. You will find your answers on the island of Mahel. Seek them in the western archipelago, called Samudra. Although I'm not sure you can handle the truth, it's there, if you desire to find it."
These words confused Celty.
Just because the two of them looked alike…did that mean anything? Were they from the same place? Were they family? Or was it just some strange, cosmic accident?
But, no. The woman wouldn't tell her where to find her answers if their similarity in appearance was a fluke, would she?
And why wouldn't Celty be ready to handle the truth, whatever that might be?
Celty shook all her confusion and doubts aside. If she could find clues about where she came from, she'd do it at all cost. Not knowing had to be more difficult than discovering the truth.
"My tribesmen will take you on the other side on the safer path," Rhaeneis said, walking with them to the door of her chambers. "May luck guide you on your way."
They traversed the new mountain pass with ease, thanks to Rhaeneis's tribesmen, who guided them carefully all the way to the other side.
Once they arrived on the other side, the tribesmen lifted their arms in farewell before turning to scramble back up and through the rocks in silence.
Ranbelt, though whistling, hadn't said much on the journey so far. None of them had.
"So," Ranbelt asked, biting off a dried piece of meat now. "Where are you going?"
"To the southeast," Isao said, glancing off the top off a rock outcropping to the smaller hills that rippled outward from the mountains. The sun bounced off the distant hills, bathing them in a warm yellow glow. "We want to reach the Isan nation."
"Near the capital?"
"Havin, yes."
"Why are you going there?"