Chapter 217 40. Somewhere to Return To

In the wake of Feena’s attempted coup, I’m once more struck by how different Fa’aun culture can be, despite our similarities. When Jira implied that the former elder’s failed coup would soon be forgotten, I thought it was a pretty savage putdown, but as always the chieftain—former chieftain, now—is uncannily prescient even without using her skills.

Feena’s fall from grace and Remi’s ascension to chieftain in name as well as practice is still the subject of gossip around the village, but the prevailing sentiment there is something to the tune of “well, it’s about time.” The former elder’s discontent was well known, as was the fact that Remi’s been running the village more or less by herself for nearly a decade. Even the dissolution of an entire family within the clan is taken pretty much in stride.

Maybe it’s just that the tribe is used to change as former nomads, or it could just be that Fa’aun culture is more tolerant of major upheavals in general—but I suspect that the real reason for the lukewarm reaction to the failed coup is that it’s overshadowed by something that people find far more interesting.

“Another species joining the clan? And a dungeon-borne at that! What a strange time we live in—oh! Greetings, cousin!”

I offer the gossiping woman a stiff smile and bow as I pass. She was letting me overhear that on purpose. Something that I’ve learned from the “naked conversations” in Fa’aun drying rooms is that they are often used to “politely” say things that would come across as rude if said directly to someone’s face. It feels kind of passive-aggressive, but I’ve gotten used to “accidentally” overhearing gossip about me.

Also, despite rarely actually using the common term for clanmates with each other, the tribe has delighted in calling me “cousin” at every opportunity. Even the ones who don’t think I should have been welcomed into the tribe are at least entertained by the novelty of it.

“I feel like a circus attraction,” I sigh, saying it just loudly enough for the gossipers to hear—two can play at that game.

Msshi snickers next to me, carrying a large crate of supplies in their thick upper arms.

“You already draw attention to yourself as an oddity,” they remind me. “What’s different about this?”

“I don’t know,” I reply with a shrug. “Before, I was just a weird guest passing through. Even in Stebaari when I had people basically bidding on me like an auction, that was limited to a few interested parties. Now that I’m part of the tribe, everybody’s got an opinion about it, you know?”

“More than you might realize,” they chuckle. “That has been the fate of my people in Stebaari for as long as any of us can remember. As passing traders, we were a curiosity—but once some of us chose to settle in the empire we became an issue instead.”

Right, of course they’d understand. They’ve been a minority their entire life while I’ve only just barely gotten my first taste of it.

“Sorry, I guess that was a bit insensitive of me,” I say.

“Not at all! I always enjoy our conversations,” they reassure me. “Certainly more than practice with Miss Violet.”

“How’s that been going, by the way?” I ask.

Obviously I’ve seen Msshi and Vi sparring, but from my perspective all they’re really doing is whacking each other with sticks, so I’ve not really watched too closely—you know, on account of not wanting to be whacked with sticks.

“I’ve leveled,” they reply. “I’m up to three in my fighting class, and five in the one I’ve been training with you.”

I blink. “Wait, you’re doing two at once? What about your core class?”

Msshi adjusts their posture a bit to balance the crate better—they have to lean way back when carrying heavy things, which looks terribly uncomfortable, but apparently isn’t as bad as it looks.

“That’s a Fa’aun concept,” they answer. “One’s path is not as simple as a single class. Our traditions encourage experimentation and flexibility. A path may be winding, branching, or circular.”

“Huh. You know, I don’t think I’ve asked, but what did you do before we dragged you off on this whole adventure?”

They shrug with their lower arms—which is a weird gesture, but it gets the message across.

“This and that. I’ve yet to find my true path.”

“Really? But aren’t you like...married?”

Msshi laughs. “Another Fa’aun assumption. Finding one’s path is not a rite of passage, but a lifelong goal. It’s rare for one to find their true path on their first Crossroad. That is why I told you that yours was a success.”

“Because it’s the [Crossroad], right?” I ask, pronouncing the word in The People’s tongue. “Where paths lead and where they begin.”

The serpentfolk language is complicated beyond just being hard to pronounce. A lot of words carry multiple meanings depending on context, and more important words tend to have even more meaning packed into them. Their word for “Crossroad” would be just at home describing the start or end of a journey, a literal crossroads, or even just any situation where someone has a choice to make.

“It’s still strange to hear our words spoken so clearly in your voice,” they remark. “But yes. For me, aiding your rescue in Stebaari was another [Crossroad]. I knew that this would be a new chapter in my life, so I did not hesitate to choose new classes more befitting the path before me.”

We arrive at the ship and I help them carry the crate up the gangway.

“You’re not worried about falling behind in your other classes?”

“In the city I might have been,” they muse. “But on a ship, there is always work to be done. Everybody contributes, regardless of levels. Not unlike a tribe. Even back home, though, our community has a way of finding work for even the most aimless.”

“Do you miss it?” I ask as we work to secure the cargo in the ship’s hold. “Home?”

“Of course,” they answer immediately. “But my path is entwined with that of my partner. I’ll return home one day, much richer for having gone on this journey with you. I do not regret my choice.”

No matter how many times they tell me that, I always worry that they do. I can’t imagine just setting aside my entire life to help a stranger, and I don’t know how I’ll ever repay Msshi for that, or even express my gratitude.

“Msshi, if there’s ever anything we can do for you, no matter what it is, will you promise to tell us?”

They cock their head curiously. “What is this? You’ve already been very helpful.”

“I mean anything—no matter how big,” I clarify. “I’m serious. Promise us?”

They lower their head to match my height and flick their tongue. One of these days I swear I’m gonna learn how to read those expressions.

“If you insist, then I swear it,” they solemnly reply. “Though I doubt I’ll ever have a request worthy of the oath.”

“As long as you know that you can ask,” I say. “That’s enough, I think.”

* * *

At long last, the time has come for us to leave the Degala tribe. Our window to depart is shrinking, and Shaa’s envoys will be arriving any day now. Remi has promised to delay them in negotiations as long as she can manage, but there’s no avoiding it—Shaa’s getting their fleet, and it’s not going to be far behind us.

I don’t know if there was a better way to handle it. Maybe we could have stayed and fought, or maybe Talla could have gotten her family to do something to help from the mainland, or any of a dozen maybes and what-ifs. In the end, though, it was probably too much to ask for people to shed blood to prevent a conflict so far from home.

Degala survives another day, Shaa saves their strength for the battle ahead, and the rest of the Baanu clan gets to hold them over the coals for violating the independence of the tribes. Everybody wins—for now. The consequences will come when those ships land, but even then it will take a long time for them to reach all the way back here.

Not so for the Blessed Lands. Or for us. For better or worse, we’re sailing straight into that storm.

“Having second thoughts?” Vi asks as I stare wistfully out at the tribe gathered to see us off.

“More like fiftieth thoughts,” I sigh. “All I’ve got is a vague premonition and the faint hope that we can do something to change things for the better, but what if we’re just throwing ourselves on the butcher’s block for no reason?”

“It won’t be for no reason,” she replies. “Whatever else happens, it won’t be pointless. I promise that.”

I chuckle sadly. “You know, I thought you’d be the one trying to talk me out of it. Saying that we should put ourselves first.”

“We can’t just run forever,” she murmurs. “And for the first time, we’ve got somewhere to return to.”

Somewhere to return to, huh? I cast my gaze over the floating village. The food is nasty, the weather is awful, and it’s impossible to get from one place to another without ending up covered in mud and smelling like a bog. The Degala tribe has settled in one of the most awful places to live I’ve ever seen, but they manage to thrive. A testament to human—or, I guess Fa’aun—ingenuity.

Is it home? No, not really. Home is still a blue planet third nearest to a yellow star, populated by a bunch of ugly hairless apes, devoid of magic, and obsessed with shoving computers into places they don’t belong. A fuzzy memory of a place that might not exist, and that we’ll probably never see again.

We haven’t even been here that long. But Vi is right. Even if it’s not home, it’s a place to come back to. A place where we’re welcome. That’s worth protecting, even if our time here has been short and—if I’m being honest—kind of unpleasant.

I’m not sure what we’ll be able to accomplish in the Blessed Lands, but there’s only one thing we can do—Remi’s first words as chieftain echo in my mind.

“We’ll just have to do our best then, huh?”

“No,” Violet retorts. “We’ll keep improving. If our best isn’t enough, then we’ll keep going until it is.”

“Yes! Hahaha! Yes!” Maggie cackles. “We’ll grow so powerful that the entire world trembles beneath our heel!”

“Or at least until we can live comfortably without being in constant fear for our lives,” Evie suggests more reasonably. “Violet is right, though. We do need to grow stronger.”

I sigh and rub a sore shoulder. “Don’t we always? I feel like there’s only so many times we can roll the dice on ‘get stronger or die trying’ before we land on ‘die trying.’”

“Better that than die doing nothing,” Maggie argues.

“We won’t be dying at all if I have any say in the matter,” Vi adds.

“Well, we’ve got a long hecking voyage ahead of us,” I muse. “I don’t know how to do the geometry, but we’re headed to the equator under those rings.”

I nod up at the ghostly arch on the horizon.

“That’s got to be, what, thirty or forty degrees of latitude?” I wonder. “Thousands of kilometers, even if we were going in a straight line—and we’re not.”

This voyage is going to make our entire journey from the convergence point to Stebaari look like an afternoon stroll.

“Plenty of time to prepare,” Vi agrees.

It might not even be an exaggeration to say that by the time we arrive at our destination we’ll have spent more time in this world on a ship than we have on land. And still, I can’t shake the feeling that it won’t be enough.

“Let’s make the most of it.”