Chapter 20: Not Much of a Map

The next morning found Tarek and Tavi still rowing northward in a dull stupor. They hadn’t dared stop for fear of Yura search parties. Conversation had been tense and sporadic before succumbing entirely to exhaustion. Tarek’s mind buzzed with countless things he wanted to say ranging from the important to the completely trivial, but the taut silence from the front of the canoe stilled his tongue. Tavi didn’t want to hear from his blood-cursed reprobate of a brother, and Tarek couldn’t fault him for it.

When they drifted near a tall hillock that emerged from the water, they watched it from a distance before approaching. Their experiences with dry land and things that looked like it had been mixed since leaving home. This, however, was nothing more than a shrugged shoulder of the Land perhaps five man-lengths across, dusted with a mix of large trees, saplings, and tall grasses. It looked as inviting as a crackling fire to the brothers, both of whom were soaked through, chilled, and sick to death of rowing.

Without words they decided to paddle closer. When they did, their relief turned quickly to disgust and dismay.

“I think that must be every single rat in the entire Land,” Tavi said.

“You can’t even see the dirt,” Tarek replied.

As they watched, they saw not just rats and mice, but rabbits, frogs, and even a large capybara all struggling through the writhing mass of land creatures that had gathered to what was likely the only dry spot for a day’s walk in any direction.

“At least it’s not ants this time,” Tavi said, his eyes still riveted to the fur-carpeted ground.

“If I had a bowstring, we’d have all the meat we needed for our entire journey,” Tarek said.

“Good luck starting a fire,” Tavi replied sourly.

“We could eat it raw.”

“Capybara, maybe, but raw rat sounds like a good way to get the bloody shits and die. Besides, it’d all go bad in just a few days. Xochil’s journey meal will last longer than that.”

“You’re right. Honestly, all I want right now is a bare spot to lie down on.”

“I don’t think we’re going to find that either. You’d have a nice blanket, I suppose, but I prefer mine without nails and teeth.”

Tarek sighed mournfully. “Isn’t there some way we could keep a patch of ground clear?”

“Fire, which…” Tavi gestured to the weeping sky. “Or you could sprinkle a line of powdered fire peppers in a circle, but I can’t imagine how much you’d need. And I don’t know if it’d work when it got wet. You could also just thrash violently the entire time you slept.”

“Yes, fine, I get it.”

“Or you could use your filthy magic and tell them all to go away.”

Tarek glanced at his brother, who looked back stone-faced.

“Tavi, I didn’t mean to. I was trying not to. I almost had it, and then…”

“Then you thought you’d break your promise and feed on the old man like a leech.”

Tarek slapped his oar against the water. “I don’t know what I’m doing, all right?” His yell echoed over the water, and the nearest rats on shore scattered.

Tavi blinked in surprise.

Tarek was embarrassed by his own outburst, but he swallowed the feeling and gave his tongue free reign. “I didn’t ask for this any more than you did. I’m doing everything I can to get rid of this magic, and you acting like I’m about to sprout fangs doesn’t help.”

Tavi looked away, his jaw set stubbornly. “Tell it to someone who doesn’t have to clean up after your mistakes.”

Tarek leaned in. “You chose to kill that man. I understand why, and maybe you were even right… but maybe you weren’t.”

The muscle in Tavi’s jaw twitched, and he said nothing.

“You’re smart, but you’re still just a boy, Tav. There might have been another way – we’ll never know. I know I shouldn’t have tasted his blood, and I’m sorry for that, truly, but the guilt you feel for killing him… that’s yours, and I won’t take it.”

Tavi’s shoulders slumped, and he wiped at his eyes. “You’re supposed to be the elder now. But I feel like I have to take care of everything, because…” he gestured formlessly at Tarek. “Most of the time I don’t know what to do.”

Tarek reached out and gripped his arm. Then, remembering the Yura chief and Xochil’s words about the power of his touch, he consciously put his hand back in his lap. “Neither do I. We’ll figure it out. You collect the blood next time – that’s a good idea, and I should have listened. But sometimes you have to listen to me, too. I take care of you; you take care of me. Right?”

Tavi knuckled one last tear from his eyes. “Right.”

“And I say let’s leave this crawling mess for some constrictor or caiman to make a meal out of and find ourselves a nice big tree branch to sleep on.”

“I’m pretty sure I’d already decided that, Tarek.”

“Let me be the smart one just this once, little elder.”

Tavi rolled his eyes. “Such wisdom.”

* * *

The world looked a little less bleak after a solid three handspans’ nap in the nook of a huge ficus. Tarek’s dreams of blood now featured the Yura chief alongside Kanga, but he was slowly learning to put the dreams aside and not let them worry him. Maybe you should let them worry you more. Your will crumbled at the first sight of blood. He rubbed his face and allowed himself a good waking stretch before letting his habitual guilt take hold. This ficus had a thick canopy, and their resting spot was very nearly dry.

“All right, little elder, where are we going now?” he asked Tavi, who was already awake and using a twig to draw in the layer of fine dirt and dust that blanketed the center of the nook.

Tavi wiped his hand through the dirt patch to smooth away his mathematical markings and set to work with his drawing tool. “Locotl showed me an old map of Zuma’s once. It showed the whole Land. I’ve been thinking about it a lot.” He considered his scratchings and added one last symbol. “There.”

Tarek crouched over the drawing. “You can’t remember it any better than this?”

Tavi thwacked him with his twig. “I didn’t forget, that’s all there was!”

“You’re sure?”

“How many numbers can you remember of the circle’s constant?”

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Tarek looked at him blankly. “What?”

“Just answer. Circle’s constant: go.”

Tarek opened his mouth and closed it again.

“Here’s a hint: it starts with three.”

“Thanks, but I don’t know why a circle is constant or why numbers are involved.”

“It’s a number that describes how big a circle is around based on how far it is across, and it never ends, it just keeps getting more precise. I can recite the constant to twenty places.”

“I’ll assume that’s impressive. Why are we talking about this?”

“Because you said I forgot the map, and I don’t forget things. What’s more, I described the circle’s constant to you less than six moons ago, so maybe you should point that forgetting finger back at yourself.”

Tarek sighed. “All right. It’s just not much of a map. It’s hardly even a doodle.”

“Blame the person who made it, then. I guess few enough of us ever leave home that maps were never very important. One of Zuma’s kids started chewing on the map after Locotl showed it to me, and he didn’t even care.”

Tarek surveyed the dirt scratchings sourly. A crude tree that could only represent the Heart of the Song stood in the center with four broad, squiggly lines radiating out from it at the points of the compass. Those were the Land’s major rivers, of course, and scattered amongst them were characters representing the names of each tribe. The rune for the Catori was clear as day just to the right of the line representing the Ix River, and the letter marking the Yura tribe stood directly opposite. Some of the other tribes he could recognize from their letters, like the Kuruk and the Hinta, but it had been too many years since he memorized the child’s song giving all the tribe names of the Lost for him to call up some of the others easily.

That was all there was to the map: one tree, four rivers, and a double handful of letters. No mountains or distinguishing features of any kind.

“Do we really not even know where the Land ends?” Tarek marveled.

“You know the stories as well as I do,” Tavi replied. “Dangers of the mist, death to those who wander, and all that. Is it any surprise that no one ever mapped the coastline? Is there even a coastline? I know there’s the one about Maka the Painted Man finding a saltwater shore deep in the black mists, but I always wondered about that. If he died, who told the story? Maybe the Land just goes on forever in the mists.”

“In all directions?” Tarek objected. “Besides, we know there’s a sea out there. Where else would all the creatures live that come in during the floods? Can you imagine the Old Woman of the Water coming from anywhere other than some deep, endless sea?”

“I’m not saying you’re wrong,” Tavi shrugged. “I’m saying we don’t know.”

Tarek regarded the crude drawing in the dirt. “All right. I still think we go back to the Catori last. Where to from here?”

“We have to keep heading west,” Tavvi opined. “If we angle north as we go, we’ll run into Iktaka lands to collect from them. It’s either that or cross back over the Ix, bypass home and travel to the Chogan, and that seems like a waste of precious time. Plus, once we hit the Iktaka, we could head due north until we hit the Tamarok and from there find the Shinsok.”

“You’re saying find awfully easily,” Tarek said. “Just because the Iktaka’s rune covers a five-day walk on this map of yours doesn’t mean we can just stroll right through the middle and happen across it. We could pass within a half a handspan’s rowing of a village like ours and never know it was there.”

“People make noise, Tarek.”

“So does the jungle. And the rain. And all the animals.”

Tavi frowned and said nothing.

Tarek unbound his braid and scratched his head. His hair was almost dry, and it was a lovely feeling. “We can’t waste days. We need to get to all the tribes and back to Xochil by the equinox. I have no idea how we can possibly make it in time.”

Tavi grimaced and dug his drawing stick into the bark next to his foot as he wrestled with an idea. “You could ask the animals,” he said grudgingly. “They can tell you whether humans are close by or not. Right?”

Tarek shook his head. “No. I’m done with that.”

His brother tossed the stick at him. “Do you think I didn’t notice you making a leaf pouch full of our journey meal and hanging it from a branch for your little otter friend earlier?”

Tarek picked up the stick and poked at the dirt himself. “I was hoping you were asleep. But that’s different. I’m responsible for him being here.”

“Tarek, listen. I know I haven’t been… I’m doing this with you because I want to see you free of this magic.”

“That, and I’m supposed to take care of you.”

“Somebody has to.” The boy suddenly stopped speaking and his eyes welled with tears. Tarek knew he was thinking of their parents.

“Tav…”

“Don’t,” he grated, holding out a hand. A long moment passed.

Tarek waited. There was nothing else to be done. They’d both had these pangs, and they wouldn’t go away any time soon.

Tavi swallowed and brushed wetness from his eyes. “What I’m saying is that I want your blood magic gone. It’s scary, I hate it, and when it comes to humans, it’s a problem. But maybe Xochil was at least a little bit right. You may have to use it a little bit in order to get rid of it. What would we have done about that caiman last night if you hadn’t scared it off?”

Tarek grimaced and looked to the sky, scrubbing his hands through his unbound hair. “Deciding to use it at all feels wrong. Backwards.”

“Backwards is having to travel the whole Land in three moons’ time to be rid of something you never asked for, but here we are. If the monkeys and birds can tell us where to go and save us time, then I can put up with it.”

Tarek busied himself rebinding his braid. “We’ll see.”

“I looked in the bag the old man gave us, but no magic pathfinder has shown up yet,” Tavi said dryly. “I keep hoping.”

Tarek snorted and threw the stick out into the water far below. “Not very helpful for a magic man, was he?”

Tavi stood and put a hand on Tarek’s shoulder. “We use what we have,” he said. “It will be all right.”

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