“I need to keep an eye out for snakes.” Abbakka did not look up from the ground. “We’ve seen more and more cobras in town?—it’s why Uncle Trimulya insisted we return here even though we were supposed to stay in Puttige for several more months. He says we cannot let Ullal be overrun and that we need to protect our traders if we want to protect our economy. He even ordered all the healers to carry turmeric wherever they go in case they encounter someone that’s been bitten.”
Matanta shook his head, his silken mane rolling in jade waves from the top of his head to the base of his chest. He plodded forward with his eyes straight ahead, looking neither up nor down.
“These mountains are not your little village,” Matanta said.
“Ullal is hardly a little village!” Abbakka straightened her back. “It is the jewel of the coast. Our trade is the envy of all our neighbors.”
The winged lion chuckled as he paused and observed the adaiman swirling above them. He cocked his head toward the biggest one. “He is larger than all his brothers and sisters, is he not?”
“Yes.” Abbakka nodded but her eyes widened as Matanta extended his wings, dwarfing the adaiman and Abbakka herself. The birds chittered indignantly, protesting the display and puffing their feathers. Their change in size was hardly noticeable.
“He does not look so big now,” the little girl conceded. She crossed her arms as she continued, “But I cannot imagine a city so vast that it would make Ullal look small.”
“Can you imagine a bird so big it could pluck you up and take you into the skies?” Matanta tucked his wings and started to walk again. “As I said, this is not your little village. You have no idea the secrets this mountain hides.”
The little girl stared at the sky, slack jawed, and scurried to catch up with the winged lion. She kept a watchful eye for threats hiding behind the puffy clouds that looked like unspun silk, both afraid of seeing a monstrous bird and terrified of missing it. Her stick dragged behind her, leaving behind a thin trail that tangled with Matanta’s footprints.
“If you only look at the sky, a cobra is sure to bite your ankles,” Matanta said with a sigh.
“I cannot look in both places at once!” The girl pointed at the sky and then the ground. “I have to choose where to look.”
“You must at least pretend that you are checking everywhere, child. Have they taught you nothing? Your enemies will always strike when they think you’re not looking.”
“Cowards.” Abbakka raised her stick and held it as if she were ready to fight an imaginary opponent. “They should have the honor to battle face to face instead of in the shadows. Then skill would determine the victor.”
The green lion frowned. “For some, the honor of victory is enough. You must always be wary of the enemy you cannot see.”
The little girl tried to alternate her gaze between the ground and the sky but found that by looking everywhere, she saw nothing. “I cannot know everything that is happening all the time.”
Matanta nodded slowly as he continued to plod forward. “Yes, I suppose it is much harder for you. So, you must always be careful. Do not relax or let down your guard unless you know for certain you are safe.”
Abbakka’s foot dropped into one of Matanta’s paw prints. Her whole foot?—from her heel to the tips of her toes?—easily fit inside the imprint of one pad. She was filled with awe at the immense size and power of the creature who walked beside her.
Perhaps Ullal was small, after all.
“But Matanta,” Abbakka said. “You ask the impossible. I would never be able to sleep if I followed your advice.”
“Yes, little one.” Matanta nodded in agreement. “You must not close your eyes?—even to blink?—unless you know your enemies cannot see you.”
The girl who was not so little anymore laughed so hard that she had to stop walking. The green lion stared in confusion as tears formed in the corners of her eyes.
“Matanta!” Abbakka gasped for air between her giggles and needed a deep breath before she could continue. “Matanta, people have to blink.”
Her winged companion furrowed his brow as he considered her words. “Perhaps that is why so many of you die.”
Chapter 5
Tomorrows became yesterdays in the gray of my todays. I knelt dutifully by Ektha’s side as she prayed at the temple, I went to the practice yard every day to spar and sprint, I accompanied my uncle to all his meetings about our fortifications and military strategy, and I scoured our records for more information about the Porcugi.
There was no time to stop.
So I kept going. I could not give my heart the time it needed to heal, but it could scar. And that would be enough.
One afternoon, my brother-in-law’s messenger burst into the throne room and rushed to the base of my uncle’s throne. Nikith had been back in Banghervari for the last twelve days, but this was the first time he’d sent word. He’d gone there after a search of our records revealed that the last time the Porcugi had attacked, a coalition of the coastal kingdoms had come together to drive them out. Details were sparse, since most of the attacks had happened outside of Ullal. But it was clear we’d sent our ships and soldiers to assist in the effort, and they had returned victorious.
Uncle Trimulya was determined to build a united army again and was convinced that we’d need the help of our enormous, powerful neighbor if we wanted to have any hope of success, so he’d sent Nikith back to Banghervari. Ektha had offered to go, but our uncle had wanted to keep his heir close, and Nikith was more than qualified. As a rajkumar by birthright, Nikith had trained in diplomacy alongside his older brothers. He’d also developed a rapport with the raja of Banghervari’s advisers during his last visit, so our uncle had been optimistic when Nikith left. After a few days without word, though, worry lines had cropped up around Uncle Trimulya’s eyes, and they’d deepened as the silence had continued.
Until now.
