“Where is Svoz?” Selena asked in a low voice. Two natives stood guard; she could see their shapes through spaces in the uneven branches, and she had no idea if they spoke Tradespeak or not.
“I was ordered to banish him and I agreed. For now.”
“You didn’t resist capture?”
Julian shrugged. “Wasn’t any fun sitting on the shore with our thumbs up our arses, waiting for the tide to come in.”
Niven cleared his throat. He looked dirty and bedraggled; living in the wilds did not suit him.
“Captain Tergus is not being altogether genuine,” he said. “The plan was to wait until the tide came in and then sail to Huerta. For repairs,” he hurried to add when Selena glanced sharply at Julian. “Repairs and then a fast return. But the woman without any…that is…”
“Her name is Ori,” Selena said.
“Ori, thank you. Ori and her native friends arrived soon after you left. The sirrak wished to tear them limb from limb but Captain sent him away.”
“That was merciful of you,” Selena said dryly, moving to sit beside Whistle.
“Perhaps. Or perhaps it was incredibly stupid,” Julian said. “Who is this Ori? She doesn’t look familiar.” He cocked a dry smile. “And I never forget a face.”
“Ori was Haru.”
“The Aluren nuns who blind themselves?” Niven asked. “Of course. I’ve never met one in person. Such devotion…”
“Is insane,” Julian finished.
Niven shot him a dark look.
“The Haru are the most devout sect of the Aluren faith and therefore the most deserving of respect,” Selena said tiredly. Ilior sat beside her and she rested her head on his shoulder. “However, Ori claims she is no longer Haru.”
Julian snorted. “So she gouged out her eyes for nothing? This is why I don’t hold to any religion,” he said, leaning back and closing his eyes as if to take a nap.
Niven gave him a frown, then asked Selena, “Why would a former Haru serve a Bazira? Surely Ori hasn’t turned to the Shadow face…?”
“Remember Byric’s words,” Selena told him. “Accora may not be Bazira any longer.”
“And Ori is no longer Aluren.” Julian shook his head. “Got an island full of apostates. Except for you two.”
Ilior growled low in his throat. “I believe you’ve been instructed not to speak to her, Captain,” he began, but Selena laid a hand on his arm and Julian ignored him anyway.
“If your Bazira is no longer Bazira, what happens to your quest? You’ll kill her anyway? An innocent?” He snorted. “I doubt that.”
“She’s hardly an innocent,” Niven said. “Her past crimes can’t be washed away simply because she no longer answers to the title of Bazira.”
“Our Fourth Principle states otherwise,” Selena reminded him.
“What’s that?” Julian asked.
“The Fourth Principle states that there is always hope for those who have descended into darkness and our duty as Aluren is to light the way and guide them out.”
“And you believe that?” Julian asked quietly.
“Of course,” Selena said. “I believe I told you as much on Isle Uago.”
He regarded her a moment, about to speak. The small pen was quiet, listening to the exchange. He shrugged instead and settled back against the log wall, one hand on the hilt of one scimitar strapped to his waist, for the crew still kept their weapons. “This is the only religion I need.”
“Then I feel sorry for you,” Selena snapped.
Julian’s eyes were cold. “If you light the way for this wayward witch instead of kill her, what happens to your wound?”
Selena said nothing, no words came. She shook her head, and closed her eyes, precluding further conversation. She curled up tighter against Ilior, hoping to sleep but it eluded her. What happens to your wound? The question resounded in her mind again and again, refusing to let her rest.
Night was descending when the natives opened the door to their makeshift cell. Ori stood among them, small and delicate and clothed in linen instead of grass and mud. The cloth that concealed her eyes was still in place.
“What is this?” Selena asked as the natives ushered her crew out. “What is happening?”
“Before you can be brought to Accora, the kafira must ask the native spirits for guidance,” Ori said. “You will not be permitted to bring your weapons.”
“What is a kafira?” Niven asked.
Ori turned her sightless gaze to him with uncanny precision. “You would call her a medicine woman in Tradespeak. She is a holy woman or adherent of the tribe, entrusted with communing with the island spirits.” She addressed Selena. “Accora has been good to the Yuk’ri tribe; they will not allow you to see her until the spirits have been consulted. It is not a dangerous communion,” she added. “You will be safe. I ask again that you leave your weapons…or we’ll have to assume the hospitality between you and the Yuk’ri is no more.”
“Hospitality?” Julian said. “We’ve been in an animal pen for the last ten hours.”
Ori turned to Selena. “I promise no harm will come to you. I can’t make the same promise if you refuse.”
Selena nodded at the crew to obey. They left their swords—including Selena’s sapphire-encrusted Paladin’s sword—in one corner of the cell. Julian laid down his scimitars with a readiness that told her he kept several other weapons on his person.
Good, she thought. And he has Svoz and I have my magic. We are not altogether defenseless should Ori prove to be false.
They were led across the encampment to a hut made from fallen tree limbs and dried leaves the size of paddles. Dusk was rapidly giving up the sky to night and the first stars were coming out. The moon was new; a bad omen, Selena thought.
Inside the hut sat three Yuk’ri natives, two men and one old woman. All three wore dark mud over their pale skin. The old woman’s breasts were exposed, in the manner customary to the tribe, but heavy necklaces of seashells and strange stones lay heavy over them. Her hair was silver and long, with shells and grasses braided into it in intricate patterns. Her eyes were clear blue and cold as the water in the Ice Isles as they watched Selena and her crew enter.
“Blue eyes?” Selena whispered to Ori. “The tribespeople are dark.”
“It is an anomaly among the Yuk’ri to be sure, and likely why she has become the kafira of the tribe. The island gods have marked her.”
Selena took her seat around the centerpiece of the tent: a ring of small white stones that glinted in the falling light. They were arranged in a perfect circle and as night cloaked the island totally, the white stones seemed to glow faintly in the dark.
The medicine woman struck flint to tinder. Sparks flared and burnt out in the dark and then a small flame burned on a small torch made of dried leaves. In its light, Selena stole a quick glance at Julian. He seemed apprehensive; not at all pleased with the situation and when he met her eye, he shook his head. But other Yuk’ri natives stood behind the crew, each holding their long spears and poison darts.