| SORCEROUS SIGNALS |
| Written by Abigail Carter / Artwork by Marge Simon |
| Make a donation to this writer |
| Sea Weavers |
Eva winced as the drop of blood fell into the pool of water.
She hoped it wouldn't taint it much. Should she stop and
wait to heal? There was no time.
She knelt at the water's edge, the water lapping at the
rock shelf, the warmth of the stone seeping through her
skirts. She drank in the metallic smell of the sea, the
refracted sparkle of the sun, and the raucous cries of the
gulls over head. She loved this place. She concentrated
and relaxed, there was warmth, brine, sparkle and birds.
"Good morning," she said to the seawater. A smile lifted
her lips; they were old friends.
***
"It's impossible." Corbin gazed at the cliff above him.
"Just give me your hand."
"I'm telling you, there is nothing to hold on to."
"You don't have to hold on to anything, I'll do the holding,
just reach up."
Corbin closed his eyes and, balancing on the very tip of his
toes, reached into thin air. "Orlan!" Corbin's toe began to
slip.
"Got you!" Orlan's rough hand grasped his and yanked.
Corbin scrabbled, until he found a hold for his other hand.
Toes found crevasses to rest in. He leant his face against the cold rock and waited for his heart to stop
hammering.
"How far is it?"
Orlan looked up and grinned. "Barely any distance at all."
Corbin followed his gaze and groaned. "Liar."
***
"Are we ready?" Eva asked. The water smoothed. Reaching out her right index finger she began to draw
careful circles on the seawater until she felt the connection. At that point, with a deliberate slowing of her
movements, she began to lift her finger from the surface. A spire of water came with it. She spun it up
higher and higher, tighter and tighter, until an opaque thread swirled from finger to water.
With a flick of her left wrist she set a wooden bobbin spinning in the air and, with a touch, attached the
thread. She watched as the bobbin spun and the thread wound. Then when satisfied she had enough
she broke the sea's connection with a word.
The bobbin hung.
Pulling it close she cradled it, then, once content she had infused every drop of the thread with the
warmth from her body, she spoke, "loyalty." For a moment the water glowed under her fingers, before
transforming into a vibrant red twine, much the same texture as wool. Eva smiled.
"Thank you." She said to the water, and rippled her hand across the surface to caress it. "She will like
the red."
From the little Eva had been told of the child, it seemed an appropriate color, but she felt a moment of
unease. She hoped it wasn't her own blood that had directed the water's choice. It was impossible to be
sure. Feeling guilty, she cleaned her palm on her skirt. She really must slow down on the rocks; they
were cutting her hands to ribbons.
Placing the bobbin with care so as not to snag the thread, she began again. Twice more she spun
strands from the sea, until she had added threads for 'caution' and 'fleet of eye', just as she'd been
asked to. Unusual requests for a young girl.
***
Corbin lay in the shadows gasping, but trying to be silent. Everything hurt.
Orlan lay to his left, his eyes lit with excitement, his own breath already under control. "Now what?" he
mouthed.
Corbin buried his face in the moss. He didn't share his brother's skill at climbing, or his thrill of their
quarry's proximity. After a while he stopped shaking. All right.
He mouthed words at his brother. "North. The pass."
Orlan nodded and made to move.
Corbin gripped his shoulder. "Careful."
Orlan rolled his eyes and made a great show of checking out the area before raising an eyebrow. Corbin
smiled with exasperation and fondness and nodded. They moved on.
***
Eva recorded her work, using a seawater thread to inscribe the wooden panel. At least that was what
she told the ever-waiting soldier. He never seemed to notice that she only ever wrote a single word and
that each time it was different. She was, of course, grateful because she didn't want to explain what she
was really doing. But at the same time it made her angry. He was the Emperor's man through and
through. He showed no curiosity about the person he was assigned to assist. He never asked her name,
discussed her children or thanked her for her work. He simply took the threads and walked away, just as
he did now. She watched his back as he went back to his companions and his duty. It wasn't their fault,
but they were a blight on her landscape. Black tents, open fires, stores piled, men scattered, doing
whatever it was they did, scarring her clean pristine shoreline. She hoped they wouldn't find it necessary
to stay long. Their treaty with the Emperor was demanding and intrusive.
Ending her appraisal of his retreating back, she noticed one of the villagers, Cattie, waiting by her porch.
There was never a moment of peace. She smiled to herself. Eva's husband said she liked it like that.
Perhaps he was right. Eva called across the rocks to her daughter. "Hany, it's time to go."
"Eva." Cattie greeted her. "Can I have a minute?"
"Of course." Eva led her onto the porch that fronted the cave. Her loom stood at one end and a table
with chairs at the other.
"Inside?"
Eva stared at her. "Cattie what's wrong?"
Cattie ducked her head and frowned. "Inside."
Eva drew chairs around the fire and sent Hany to play in her room. "Tell me."
"My daughter needs a new coat. She needs new threads."
"But she only had one a few months ago."
"But it is not enough this time. She needs it stronger. She climbs, just as she always has, but now,
sometimes she freezes and it takes whole minutes before she can go on. It is just as it was when she
was a child. Always the coat compensated, with two of the three threads designed to help her, but not
any more. I am afraid one day she'll be unable to get down, and worse if her confidence continues to fail,
she may fall."
Eva watched with bemusement as Cattie picked at the fabric of her skirt. And what else? Never before
had Eva and sea produced a coat that didn't work. "I'm sorry," she said.
Cattie smiled. "It's not your fault, there is so much to do now, and you are so busy."
"You think I made the threads wrong?"
"No." But her face said that she did.
"I may be busy, but I still know what I'm doing. She has just changed more quickly this time." Hurt and
consternation made her voice harsher than she intended. She pushed a stray hair back from her face. "I
will make you more threads"
"Thank you; and you're right. I'm sure it's my daughter not you. Children change so quickly.
Cattie slipped away, her face brighter, a great weight lifted. But Eva felt uneasy. She could hear the sea
shifting in her head; restless, jittery. She rose to her feet to pace.
Was she really so over-worked she was failing her own people? Since they had agreed to help the
Emperor, to share the secrets of the sea and the coats, there had been so much more for her to do, but
she hadn't felt that she was doing it badly. She lifted the kettle and placed it over the fire. She needed
tea and five minute's peace.
"Mummy?" Hany called from her room. Okay, well maybe she'd settle for the tea.
***
Corbin frowned. "Look at the state of you," he said. "You're filthy. What have you been doing?"
"Rolling in the mud." Orlan looked him in the eye and waited.
Corbin met his stare. It was a brotherly thing.
They stood, neither willing to yield. Eventually Orlan laughed. "You were always more patient than me."
Corbin grinned back. 'Honor maintained', he was now able to ask, "Why are you covered in mud?"
"Because, I might have a thread for stealth, but it's red. Red is not a subtle color."
"I wonder why Mother chose it?"
"So I'm helping her gift, by camouflaging it in a natural fashion."
"Fashion that ain't, but sensible it is. Let's go."
***
"They've forgotten again." Eva stood hands on hips, balanced on the rocks, the wind tugging at her
skirts, the waves breaking at her feet.
Liale frowned. "Forgotten what?"
"The gift."
"How do you know?" He crouched, never quite so at home with the uneven surface, and pushed the bowl
of stew into a hollow in the rocks, careful to ensure that it wouldn't slip.
"Because I have spun four sets of threads today, two for villagers and two for the Emperor's courtiers."
"And there are only three gifts."
"Exactly." Absentmindedly, she ran her fingers through her husband's long black hair, not even noticing
the soft smile on his lips. "What part of 'one gift per thread set' is it that is so difficult for Aryan to
convey?"
"Is it not his fault."
"No, but it is his responsibility. I will have to go and wrangle with him. Again. I'll be back late."
"I'll do dinner then." Eva noticed Liale look with longing at the stew he had just gifted to the sea on
Cattie's behalf.
She laughed, stopping her caress and pulling him to his feet. "The rest of that pot is sitting on the table.
Our people don't forget their obligations, a gift for the sea, and a time-saver for the Spinner. The floors
have been washed too."
Liale smiled in return. "You are wonderful."
"I know."
***
Corbin chewed on a chunk of stale bread. "Well that was a waste of time."
"Yup."
"Is that it? Yup?"
"Yup."
"No helpful suggestions? No flashes of your usual insightful inspiration? No crazy schemes?"
"Nope."
Corbin threw the last unbreakable crust to a hopeful bird. "Then we'll go east. Sleep under a tree and try
again tomorrow."
"You know there might be nothing to find." Orlan pushed the stopper back into the water skin.
"Yup."
***
"A gift was given, I saw it myself." Aryan crossed the room to pour water.
"One gift. I took two sets of threads for you, there should be two gifts." Eva countered.
"Details. The sea won't realize."
"Of course she will. And you know it. Why do you cover up his sloppiness?"
"Because I am his chamberlain, and such details are beyond his notice."
"Then you had better notice properly for him."
"I'm sorry. I will." He drank and grimaced. "I have another noble who would request a coat. Will you see
him now?"
"You said 'him'?"
"I did." Aryan stood, his eyes conveying the challenge.
"Aryan, the threads are spun for the mothers to weave. Not the fathers." She pushed her hair back from
her face, and closed her eyes, reaching for the sea with her mind. She focused, it took more effort here.
"Oh, Eva, just humor me."
"No. It doesn't work like that. The mothers are given the gift. It is they who know a family best and so
can work with their strengths and weaknesses. Enhancing what nature has already given. That is what
the threads and coats are for. They are a gift to help us to bring up our children as responsible, healthy
adults. To keep our husbands safe, to keep the mothers strong. To help us to protect our families in the
only way we can, not with swords and traps, but words and love. The men may wear the coats, but it is
the mothers who must ask the sea for them. The sea will not gift threads to men."
"Eva, this noble has come a long way. You can't expect his wife to travel over such distances alone."
"She needn't have come alone."
"You don't understand."
"No, it is you who do not understand. Or should I say your Emperor. He cannot just decide to change
things because it suits him. Either he does it right, or he does not do it at all."
"Please, Eva, the husband has consulted his wife. Lord Garce is very influential, a particular favorite of the
Emperor. Just adapt."
She reached within, nothing. The sea gave no sign. She spat out the nail she'd chewed off. "This one
time, I will do it. But I will not do it again."
"Thank you."
"I am beginning to wonder what motivates your Emperor. His nice speech about joint endeavors, the
sharing of lives and the respecting of strangers is beginning to feel hollow. He seems to think he can
take what he wants without any payment, without any thought. The sea expects us to do it her way.
Don't jeopardize our relationship with her, in your haste to get what he wants."
"I'm trying."
"I know you are. It is not you I am warning."
***
"We aren't close enough," Orlan said.
"What do you suggest?"
"That tree will do it."
Corbin tried to keep calm at this point. He didn't want hysteria to crack his voice. "It is hanging out over
the cliff, Orlan."
"It's rooted pretty deeply. Grown like that, rather than slipped there."
"And this matters because?"
"It'll take my weight."
Corbin wanted to laugh. Cry. Scream frustration. Instead he studied the tree with great care. He took a
very long, deep breath and then nodded. He didn't trust himself to speak.
"Excellent." Orlan practically bounced.
Corbin did, at that point, allow himself to roll his eyes.
Orlan chuckled, flicked off his shoes and began to climb. He moved with precision and care, light-footed
and agile. The branches got narrower. He stopped.
"Well?" Corbin whispered.
"Not close enough." Orlan's face was pinched and drawn.
"What's wrong?"
"My coat. 'Caution'. It doesn't want me to keep going."
"Maybe it has a point, Orlan."
"Perhaps it does. But we need to know, and this is the only way." He steadied himself on the branch.
"Okay. It's letting up for a moment." Orlan began to move again, but it wasn't long before he stopped.
"Now what?"
"It is a bit of a jump."
Corbin looked down and shuddered. "Are you sure?"
"You think I'd suggest it if I wasn't?"
"Oh, Hell."
Orlan reached out, perfectly balanced, then cursed and pulled back.
"What's wrong?"
"The coat. Each time I get myself balanced, it distracts me." He spoke through gritted teeth. There was
silence.
Corbin made a decision. "Take the coat off."
Orlan turned back to him, horror on his face. "I can't, it's part of me."
"It's just a coat, and right now it's interfering with your judgment. It's going to kill you. Take it off."
Orlan hesitated for a moment, made to reach out, cursed and struggled out of the coat. It lay on the
branch looking rather forlorn. Orlan made the jump. He landed without problem, now he had the view he
had wanted. Only having got it, he didn't want it any more.
***
Eva knelt on her smoothed patch of rock. The usual soldier away to one side, though these threads were
not for him. The water swirled before her, tying itself in complex knots. It made her uneasy. She placed a
hand deep into the water, closing her eyes, trying to get a clearer sense of its frustration, but all she
could glean was the feeling of disquiet that she already had.
"Why won't you tell me what's wrong? I feel you don't trust me? Or is it just that you hardly know
yourself?"
Sighing, she tried to focus enough to spin. She needed to inscribe the buttons for Hany's latest coat.
"We are doing okay, aren't we?" She said to the sea, as she placed her finger on the water. "Cattie's
daughter's threads are not strong enough this time, but that happens doesn't it? It is not so unusual
that we get it wrong." She smiled at her jangled reflection in the water. "Now, with my children, we are
getting it right. Corbin's threads still hold true, 'forgiveness', 'responsibility', and this last time 'stealth'."
He always had such patience, such sense. I sometimes feel his idea of responsibility has extended to
include the whole village."
The sea lapped at her wrists, apparently calmed by the images of the children she knew so well.
"And Orlan, we always give him threads to counter his rashness and innocence. And nothing has
changed there. He could always be counted on to climb too high in the tree. To swim too far into the
sea." She smiled. "To succeed where the others didn't dare to go. He still has no concept of danger. It
makes him glorious fun to be around, but terrifying too."
The seawater hiccupped, as if laughing at the middle child. Orlan made everyone smile.
"You know it's funny, but knowing which traits became significant in the boys you'd think I could look at
Hany and guess what she will become; that the benefit of seeing them grow would give me clues on how
to guess her future. But it hasn't. Will she stay quiet and withdrawn? Will she stay curious? Should I
give her gregariousness or caution? How can I tell now what will be significant later? I'd like to think
stubbornness will remain one of her strengths, but what if it makes her pigheaded and mulish?" The sea
flicked at her wrist. "Yes, I know that is a rather colorful image. Even after all the years of practice I have
had, all the years of studying the people around me. It is still difficult to make the right decisions. Who
ever really knows what their children will become? But I think our choices, for Hany, this time are fair.
'Forgiveness', 'curiosity' and 'an interest in others'."
She lifted her palm out of the water, placed the tip of her finger onto the surface and began to spin.
Tightening the thread she drew it down to the wood of Hany's button. As she ran her finger over its
surface the water left a silvery trail as she spelt out 'forgiveness'. The word shimmered in the sunlight. In
the mood to remember, she was reminded of the many times she had done this, the most bittersweet of
her tasks. Sweet when she carved words of promise into cradles the fathers made, bitter when it was
onto the coffins.
The buttons finished, she continued the thread to trace words on the usual wooden panels that rested
nearby.
She wrote 'waterproof' and 'strength'.
***
"Eva. I need new threads for a coat for my son."
"Is he okay?"
"No. His breathing grows more labored by the day."
"The coat is failing? Another? I will spin new threads. I just hope they will be enough."
***
Corbin stretched his toes. It was their turn. He'd done his ankles and knees just moments before. Lying
still for so long was taking its toll. Orlan slipped silently down beside him, making him jump. Orlan's face
was ashen. He twitched his head for Corbin to follow.
Still saying nothing, Orlan nodded over the precipice. Corbin crawled into place.
His fingers dug into the turf, and he bit down hard on his lip, desperate not to cry out. Below an army of
men gathered. They all wore coats of threads that had been spun by their mother and woven by the
villagers.
"Am I really seeing what I think I'm seeing?" Orlan whispered.
Corbin just stared. He rubbed grass-stained hands over his face. "We've been betrayed."
***
Eva sat on the shoreline, trailing threads over wooden panels. Her sons were back. It was nice, even if
what they had to say was not.
"You were right." Corbin told her. "The coats are going to soldiers. He is creating an army, using our
gifts to make them strong."
She closed her eyes around sudden tears. "I had hoped not, but the signs were just a little too clear.
People who all wanted the same three threads, men coming when women should have, and of course the
failing of our coats. The sea knew they were not honoring the treaty. She is taking back the whole gift.
Taking it away from all of us."
"We have to break our association with them."
Eva smiled. "Then she will give us back what she once gave us?"
"Yes."
She dug her nails into the wood. "Nothing is that simple. I don't think we can rely on the sea for this. We
have to undo what I started."
Corbin shook his head. "The Emperor will not want to give it back."
"No."
Orlan's eyes lit up with mischief. "We need the contingency."
Eva grinned at her son. "Yes." She finished her writing and looked up. Before her was a ship. Neither she
nor any of her people had made a ship before. The sea had always given them all that they needed in her
shallows, and they had never felt a need to travel. But, the coming of the Emperor had changed
everything. The villagers had never really trusted him. So they had agreed to build a ship. Just in case.
They had done it the way they had thought would be best. Every time Eva spun threads for a coat, she
had engraved a panel of wood for the ship. And she had done it right under the soldier's noses. It had
seemed fitting. She had engraved each panel with words of guidance or protection 'Waterproof', 'Storm
rider', and 'Navigable', to name but a few.
As a result, when she leant back and looked up, their vessel was a strange beast indeed. It glowed under
the weight of its hopeful intentions. The words on each individual panel shimmered in their constant
motion; the sea was never still, giving it a fish-like quality that suited its purpose. It was beautiful, and
seemed almost to breathe as it lay quietly growing on the rock.
"This can be the last panel. Finish its construction. I suspect we don't have much time."
***
Aryan and Eva stood in companionable silence, gazing out over the ever-changing surface of the sea.
Hany threw pebbles into the water at their side. Eva swore to herself, this was nice. She didn't want to
spoil it. It was such a shame that Aryan was not the Emperor.
"Aryan."
"Yes?"
"There is a new fashion in your court."
"Oh, yes?"
"Lying. That soldier, over by the fire pit, is wearing Lord Garce's coat."
"Is he?"
"You are taking us for fools."
"The Emperor thought you too naive to notice."
"He's wrong. We won't stand by and let him abuse the sea."
"Is there truly anything you can do to stop him?" He turned to her then, and looked her in the eye. "Be
careful Eva. You might be right, but the Emperor is an arrogant and powerful man. Remember that."
They stood a moment more watching the waves crash against the shore. "There must have been quite a
storm out there last night." He observed eventually.
"There was no storm, Aryan. That is the sea demonstrating her displeasure. Your Emperor may be able
to trick and even threaten us. But, he has no influence over her. He should be careful. She will have her
revenge."
"I'll tell him."
"And will he listen?"
Aryan smiled his crooked smile, not even turning to look at her. "No. He won't."
To the right, they heard swearing and laughter, and the splashes of men.
Eva stared with horror. "They are swimming in the sea."
She ran without thought and stood over them, her fists clenched, her breath rasping. "Get out. Get out.
How dare you. How dare you defile her and treat her like that."
Aryan was at her side, his voice hard, his orders more effective then her cries. Men were out and dripping
on the bank within seconds. Eva was so angry, that tears came to her eyes. "How could they do that?
How can they not understand?"
"Eva." Aryan hands fluttered through her anger, his eyes focused over her shoulder.
"What?"
"The Emperor has come to see you."
At that moment in time she could have gouged the Emperor's eyes out with her fingernails, but instead
she drew Hany protectively to her side, took a deep breath and curtseyed to the man who stood before
her. He was young and fat, with pinched, selfish eyes.
"My man says there have been oversights." There was no apology or contrition.
She kept her voice steady, contenting herself with the image of slapping him in her mind. "The gifts are
being forgotten. They are meant to be important to the person and well-considered."
"I see. And we owe many gifts, do we?"
"Yes."
"Very well." He beckoned to one of the dripping men. "One gift, of great value, to compensate for the
many missed." He drew a dagger and jabbed it under the man's ribcage, twisting the blade up into his
heart. There was a terrible moment of stillness, then he flopped screaming and floundering into the sea,
in a gross caricature of the swimming he'd just been reprimanded for.
***
Eva's shock was absolute.
The emperor raised an eyebrow. His point made, he turned and walked away.
Eva pulled Hany close, hiding her face from the body that now floated in the shallows. How could he do
that? How could he?
"No." Eva's voice carried, shaky from emotion, over the rocks. "There will be no more threads."
The Emperor stopped.
"You consistently refuse to understand. Take pleasure in deliberately doing it wrongly. So now you won't
do it at all."
"Eva, consider your words." Aryan stepped towards her.
"My people are losing their connection with the sea. Losing the benefit. I have to think of them. You
refuse to thank the sea for her gift. You don't deserve it. You refuse to use it properly. I know you are
giving the coats to others who were not intended to wear them. They are personal gifts, not a cure-all.
They cannot go to the wrong people. We will do this no more."
The Emperor turned then. "Yes you will. Aryan."
Aryan's hands fluttered for a moment, just as they always did when he was unhappy and unwilling. Then
they stopped and the orders began. Soldiers started rounding up the villagers.
Eva knew to fight was useless, but not to fight was unthinkable. They weren't going to do this to Hany.
The child had seen too much. They weren't going to have her.
"Hany," she whispered. "When I say, run to the cave. Okay?"
Hany managed a soft "Yes."
Eva drew a deep breath and raising her arms she called to the sea.
Tight tornados of water rose just beyond the shore, spinning up to the height of a man. With a
wordless gesture they stilled and for one terrible moment the soldiers looked up at spires of water, as
hard as ice, glowing blue in the dusk. "Now." Eva whispered to her child. Then the tornados moved and
consumed the screaming men, with all the unforgiving fury of the sea on a tempestuous night. Crushing
and ripping with the fury of a mother whose children are threatened. Men might set traps and build
fortifications, accepting the inevitability of battle, but women. They wait. They wait until the enemy is
upon their doors, has proven his terror is real, then they sweep the children behind skirts, they pick up
their pitchforks and scream their rage. They may not plan or manipulate, but there should never be any
underestimating them.
***
Silence hit with the smash of spent water.
Eva gagged, horrified by what her desperation had led her to. "Hany?" She swept the shore, but the girl
had done what she'd been told. "Thank you." She whispered to the sea.
"For what? The sea seems to have abandoned you, or do you have another tornado waiting for me too?"
Aryan seemed unfazed by the loss of half his soldiers, the destruction of their makeshift camp and, that
the villagers were no more than a little damp.
"No. No more killing. The sea wants us to live and prosper. There must be no more death." Eva knew
from the surging whispers in her head the sea would not help her again. She had helped for Hany's sake
and that was that.
The Emperor still stood, dead men scattered at his feet, but he was not even scratched by the
devastation. Eva swore in her head, hard, heavy words that would have shocked if she hadn't been so
desperate. His death would at least have solved one thing.
With her fury spent and curtailed, the soldiers who were left had the villagers rounded up and kneeling
on the soft sand within minutes. She couldn't decide which was worse, the fact they had done it at all, or
the fact it had apparently been planned for.
"The weaving will continue Aryan." The Emperor spoke, as if nothing more significant had occurred to
interrupt his speech than a bucking horse. "At least now we don't have to play any more games." He
smiled; mean, thin-lipped triumph, then turned. "Oh, and for every twenty coats made, sacrifice the
weakest worker. The sea must have her price."
Despite herself Eva moved, every fiber of her being wanting to place angry hands about his neck.
She heard a step behind, darkness fell.
***
"Hany? Hany? Are you here?" Corbin tried to keep his voice low, but desperation was making it hard. He
cast a concerned look back at Orlan.
"She's here. I know it." It wasn't the first time he'd said it.
They reached a dead end in the tunnel.
"She isn't, Orlan. She isn't here. They have her. She's too young for all of this. She shouldn't be part of
it. We should have been here. Protected her."
"Shut up."
"We let her down. Not saying it won't stop it being true."
"No, shut up. I can hear her breathing."
Corbin strained, and just above the whisper of the sea he too could detect the soft snores of his sister.
Orlan grinned, lifted his torch up and revealed a shaft in the flickering flames. Hany was curled on a ledge.
"Thank goodness."
***
Eva floated. There was sound and there was movement and there was depth. She had a sense of a mind
so vast it remembered eons. A mind so vast it spread beyond the horizon. A mind both gentle and
terrible in its generosity and care. A mind to be appreciated. A mind to respect.
And Eva did respect it. She felt no fear. There was only security, nurturing and love. Eva floated. There
was sound and there was movement and there was depth.
***
Corbin bade Henry find a meal, it had been a long trek and they had found no one. Hany looked up from
the pool of seawater
where she played as she heard the familiar voice. But her smile faded at the sight of her brother's face.
"Mummy?"
Corbin put his arm around her shoulders. "Not yet, little one. Give us time."
He led her into the cave and gazed around. Twenty-five. Twenty-five survivors were all they had been
able to discover. They had enough food and water for now. But their supplies would not last long.
Orlan grabbed his arm as he entered the cave, a whirl of energy in the midst of defeated stillness.
"The boat is finished." He winked at Hany. "Time to move onto the next stage."
***
Cattie brought Eva her breakfast. Her eyes were red, her hands shaking and she wouldn't look Eva in the
eye.
Eva couldn't bring herself to speak and she watched the young woman struggle with cup, plate and
cutlery, keeping her own head bent, her own presence withdrawn.
But with the whisper of a closing door, and the click of a lock she began to tremble. Her temper. Her
volcanic, unpredictable temper. That was what had brought them to this. It was all her fault. Better that
she wasn't there. Better that there be no one to endanger her people further with dangerous outbursts.
Better that there be no one to spin. Better that she no longer 'be'.
She gazed down. The dinner knife did not look sharp enough, but as she had no experience of such
things, she dismissed her doubts. She would try anyway.
***
Corbin and Orlan exchanged glances. They both knew what had to be done. Neither wanted to do it.
Orlan drew his knife first, but did not move. Corbin drew his own. "Wait." He mouthed. In his mind's eye
he saw his sister and his mother.
He didn't look back at Orlan. He didn't want to share this moment. If he did it alone, then he could
pretend it had never happened.
The soldiers died in their sleep. Peaceful and unaware. Put like that it was a good way to go. Desirable.
But a man was supposed to be infirm and tottering when he looked for such ambitions. Not young and
uniformed.
Corbin walked away. He did not look back. Orlan's knife was back in his belt. He did not speak. There
were cries of alarm behind them, as others came. Corbin turned, guilt dictating his response, but Orlan
grabbed his wrist. "Run." He breathed, and led them through the shadows.
***
Aryan's hands fluttered. "Did she succeed?"
The physician cut the bandage and put what was left in his bag. "No, my Lord. She will be fine."
"Foolish woman. There is never any way out."
The physician twitched his head and left.
Aryan folded his hands. "There is never any way out."
***
Corbin saw Orlan freeze across the clearing, and slipped back into deeper shadow. He couldn't see
whatever it was that had given Orlan pause, but he trusted his younger brother's instincts. The bark on
the tree pressed rough against his palms, a bramble pricked his ankle, but he did not move.
The soldiers slipped through the trees with such skill, that if Orlan hadn't spotted their shadows they'd
have been caught. You had to admire them. Hate them, of course, but admire them too.
Corbin opened his mouth to let out the involuntary breath he'd drawn. Through the trees his eyes
stayed focused on where he knew his brother had last been. Then the men were gone. He waited, but
they did not reappear. Just a little bit longer.
But Orlan was already moving. He was stopped by a knife-blade to his throat. The soldier had been
standing in the shadows.
Orlan's eyes swiveled to Corbin. "He's good," he said.
"Yep." Corbin stepped out into the clearing.
The soldier's eyes went wide at the sight. "Didn't see you, though."
"We'll always be better."
"You are the prisoners." The man observed.
Orlan and Corbin still held each other's gaze, the ghost of a smile on each pair of lips. "Yes."
***
"Eva." Aryan was there again. Polite, smart and implacable. It was amazing how much you could hate a
person. It was almost palpable, bile rose in her throat even as she set eyes on him, and her head ached.
"Go away."
Aryan sighed and for a moment he knelt on the floor, facing her where she rested on the bed. He ran his
fingers gently over her wrists, where bandages hid the cuts she had made with the knife the night
before. It had been too blunt to do anything but tear her skin, and they had found her too fast for her
to succeed.
She felt such guilt. Better that she was gone, and no longer responsible. But she wasn't, and she was.
Aryan sighed, "This is the way it will be. You will do as you are told. Please."
She looked him firmly in the eye. "I wish," she said.
But Aryan just shook his head. "No point." And he rose, his movements studied and graceful as always.
"It is out of your hands."
The next man to enter was the Emperor.
He was wearing Corbin's coat.
He did not speak; he just looked her in the eye and gestured to a servant. In the corridor she could hear
anger and fear, and the occasional grunt of pain. Her heart sank.
Orlan was dragged into the room, kicking, and shouting. Corbin was still, his face turned behind, his eyes
never leaving the one who followed.
"Hany," she gasped. The little girl cried out and, as she pulled to her mother, Corbin moved. Having been
docile and easy up until now, their grasp was lax with him. He slammed hard into the guards, making
them loose their grip on Hany and she ran to Eva
Orlan calmed, the distraction no longer required.
Once Corbin was dragged to his knees and bound they made to take Hany, but the Emperor shook his
head.
"Your daughter is yours. You understand I cannot return your sons." Eva buried her face in the soft
russet hair. She couldn't do this. She couldn't. Hany whispered into her chest. "The ship is done."
That was something at least. But how would they get to it?
"I like this coat." The Emperor stroked the fabric. The coat was black, with light and dark grey detailing
around hem and cuffs that ran almost three quarters of the way up the coat. Whatever pattern or
design a mother might choose, the threads were of equal proportion. "Perhaps I will have one
commissioned for me. Of course I need no controlling, but a little reinforcement of my perfections would
be no bad thing." He laughed at his own immodesty.
Eva watched her son. Corbin shivered from so much more than the cold. His face was pinched, and now
that he was at rest Eva could see that he was struggling to breathe. It shocked her, she hadn't realized
how dependant they had become on the coats. They took them off at night with no problem. She
wondered how long Corbin had been separated from his.
The Emperor smiled, swaying the generous fabric around him. "Very smart, very dapper. You must
charm all the girls in a coat such as this."
Corbin, winced and shook his head. He was struggling to stay focused.
"Never mind Corbin. Your Mother will soon have your next coat ready for you. Or you'll be dead. Either
way you won't be needing this back."
Eva avoided his gaze. "What you want, won't work."
"Never the less. Aryan."
Aryan stepped forward. "The Emperor has questions."
She sighed. "Yes, I know. He wants answers to all the questions I wouldn't answer when we signed the
treaty. Fine, here are the answers. A coat with more than three threads makes the wearer become
volatile and unpredictable, so I will not make one. Making other garments, which can be introduced with
the coats, would have the same effect. And smaller items like vests or armbands, wouldn't be enough.
We don't do what we do by accident. We do what we do, in the way we do it, from generations of
experimentation and learning."
Aryan smiled at her, his hands twitching as if he thought of applauding. "Well yes, I think you have
covered most of the topics. Let me tell you what he has in mind, and perhaps, once you realize how
reasonable his demands are, you will capitulate without the need for violence." His eyes flicked
meaningfully to her sons. "The Emperor wants loyalty. Absolute. He wants shielding. And he wants guile
in his generals, obedience in his foot soldiers. Unquestioning obedience, just in case there is any other
kind. You see, I did listen. I know that I must be specific in my requests."
Despite herself she was drawn in. "We've been through this, Aryan. It isn't that simple. You can't just
give the men the same coats, and expect the same responses. You have to take into account their
existing personalities when making decisions for the future."
He frowned at her. "But these are just conscripted soldiers." He made them sound like a category of
their own, some type of subspecies.
"Surely you can see that one style of coat cannot work for all? Take my sons. If you give obedience and
loyalty to Orlan, you might as well squish him into a ball and leave him to die. You take away his creativity
and freedom to improvise. If you give
Corbin obedience and loyalty to only one man you would tear him in two. He cares for everyone with the
same intensity and regard. He could no more follow one man than you could cut off your hand.
"What you want is some magic recipe, with the magic ingredients, that will work on every man. Life isn't
like that. If it were, all parents would be standing in line waiting for the absolute solution to their
children's happiness.
"It is pure laziness on your part. Even you should know one size does not fit all. Cannot fit all. Nothing is
that simple. Surely not even you."
"You overstep your boundaries."
"Sorry, I forgot the rules. Pleasantness until the time for pleasantness is past. I'll try not to forget
again." She bobbed her head in a parody of a curtsey, and grimaced.
"There isn't time to analyze each man. That is just ridiculous."
"That is why we are a small village, who change the coats regularly, as people grow. Trying to apply one
to all is madness, and asking for madness in return."
The Emperor stopped admiring the coat. "It doesn't bother me whether or not a few of the slaves
cannot cope with their fetters. There will be one design, and it will do for all."
"Fine. I'll make your coats, your way."
The Emperor smiled, then paused, blinked and went pale. On first hand, he appeared to be experiencing
the effects of wearing a coat not designed for him. With a grimace he took it off and threw it into the fire.
Corbin bit his lip. It was only a coat. Only a coat.
***
With the dawning of a new day Eva and Hany went to spin. The light was soft on the rocks, muzzy, as if
newly awakened like her. How could life be so terrible, and yet the world so uncaring? She glanced at the
soldier who accompanied them and wondered how long it could all last.
Stepping in front of him, she took in deep breaths of the sea air and began to walk. All along the shore,
in the wooden porches built specifically onto the fronts of the caves mothers sat. The clack clack clack of
the looms as they worked providing a harsh counterpoint to the soft shush of the waves. She passed
them all. Mothers cooking and mothers nursing. Mothers scolding and mothers warming tea. Life just as
it always had been, just as it always should be.
But there were little telltale signs as she walked that gave the game away. The lack of men just sitting,
smoking on pipes as they waited for the morning to warm. The lack of children trawling the rock pools
for tiny gems of flotsam to cherish. The signs of wreckage, where her anger and the sea had caused
havoc. And of course the fact every loom had a work in progress upon it. Mothers sat sewing together
the last pieces of coats their children might never wear. Worse to think they might. For they wove coats
that enslaved and deadened. The pain of their task was evident in every face she passed. Some of the
women nodded to her, but others turned their heads, unable to forgive her for loosing her temper, and
then for not refusing. For forcing them to make the same decisions over family and principles. The same
decisions that meant they sat and wove, as she went to spin. All against their wills. All to keep alive
family members who would be forced to wear coats that would slowly kill them. Coats they had made.
How could their world have come to this? The sea was responsible. Without it there would have been
none of it. Anger ran through her. What a waste of her wonderful village.
Ignoring cuts and abrasions she pulled herself over the rocks. Eventually she stood on the smooth stone
she had knelt on so many times before.
"Look at what you have brought us to," her fists clenched, her nails digging into her palms. "Look at
what we have become. This gift of yours has destroyed us. Our people are enslaved, my boys
imprisoned and a ship stands useless." The water at her feet remained impassive and calm. She picked
up a rock and hurled it as hard as she could.
"Don't be like that. Don't be still and indifferent. Be apologetic. Be evading. Be angry. Just be something.
Don't you dare pretend
not to be. How dare you. How dare you pretend that this has nothing to do with you. You made us a
desirable commodity and someone came and took it." The sea rippled across the lower rocks.
"You told me how to look out for them. You nurtured them as well as me. Don't you care? Doesn't it
bother you they have come to this? That the gift could not save them?
At the very least you could have refused the Emperor the gift. But no, you let it work. You let the
spinning be successful. Why did you give the gift to him? He who would abuse it, waste it; denigrate it?
Have you no conscience?"
The seawater remained impassive.
Eva lifted her head and screamed her anger up and away from the sea. She screamed and screamed,
until her voice broke and then she fell to her knees and sobbed, her salt tears lost in the brine before her.
How long she remained there she had no idea. Her tears had dried up long ago. Her mind was befuddled
by the wash of waves and the refraction of reflection. The world had shattered and was now reformed.
Time was lost and her world was gone. But in and out of her mind words washed through. Hope. Life.
Trust.
She accepted them.
***
Corbin rose stiffly from the damp ground. His coat was heavy from rain and mud, but he was weighed
down by far more than that. "Loyalty', 'obedience', and 'shielding'.
He bent down to pass a cup to one of the children. The coat tugged at him, its intentions at odds with
his own.
He picked up wood for a fire he would not sit by. The coat seemed to burn, his breath caught in his
throat and he nearly dropped his bundle, but despite the coat he delivered it. His loyalties were not to be
questioned. No coat was going to rule him.
***
Eva returned to the House, the guard waiting outside in a mockery of good manners come way too late.
Hany sat on the wooden porch, hiding behind the loom. Before her was a bowl of seawater. As Eva
watched Hany placed her right index finger on the surface and began to trace circles over the water.
Eva's mind reeled as she watched Hany make the connection with the water. The thread began to rise up
to the bobbin she held in her other hand.
Hany looked up. Woman to woman their gazes met and Hany grinned.
So this was what the sea had had in mind. Another weaver, one the Emperor did not know about, one
he could not control!
***
Corbin met Hany at the fence. She smiled and handed him a plate of fresh vegetables. He smiled back.
Under the plate was a set of tiny threads, threads that said 'love', 'hope', 'freedom'. Of course, the
words did not matter; just their presence would be enough. He slipped them into his pocket; ignoring
the pain than ran like a shock through his torso. He moved away.
Corbin watched as Orlan dragged his weary, hunched body over to the makeshift bench. All he was, was
now bent under the weight of a coat that enslaved not empowered him. Corbin's heart ached for him.
Corbin sat himself on another bench. Henry slumped, trying to warm himself in the pale sun. He opened
his eyes, eyes that once had sparkled, but now were dull. "You should run boy. Get him out while he still
has the strength to go."
Corbin grimaced, a twisted parody of a smile. "Shut up old man. We'll all go, when we're ready."
Corbin patted Henry's shoulder, weaving one of Hany's tiny threads into his coat without his knowledge.
Henry still spoke out, but most did not anymore. The coats were taking effect.
Corbin clenched teeth against pain as he wove. He kept the responsibility of the escape plan on his own
shoulders, and the price. But it didn't matter; watching Henry relax as the thread began its work on the
emperor-given coat was all Corbin needed. He stroked his own 'prison'; it too was now littered with
additional threads. Countermanding threads that, as their numbers grew, would jangle the original
messages. There could never be more than three.
Corbin gasped as he contemplated treason, and the coat reacted, but sanity lay in a sense of duty; he
just hoped it wouldn't kill him.
***
Eva stood at Aryan's side, Hany's hidden behind her skirts. She was going to protect her from what was
to come, in any way she could. The Emperor was seated upon his large and fiery stallion, held in check by
a nervous stableman.
Before them lay the battlefield. Two bodies of men. How pathetic they looked. Like children lined up for a
game. But this was no game and men would die. Her sons were with those men.
In the distance other soldiers stood, sons of farmers and fishermen, called to defend their homes.
Determined but terrified. They faced the Emperor's trained infantry.
Before her the Emperor's stood implacable. Silent and stiff, their image as ragged as those they faced,
for each had different colored threads, despite the fact they contained almost identical sentiments.
The Emperor raised his sword, his gold cloak fanning out behind him in the gentle breeze, his face was
rouged, his eyes outlined. He looked perfect.
"Charge." The command came from both sides and in that instant the armies moved.
The Emperor's host dissolved into chaos. Men milled in confusion, others ran in the wrong direction,
defiantly disobeying the orders. Some had the sense to turn on the Emperor's volunteers, but most
sank to their knees and wept their relief.
Eva watched as Orlan turned, his arrow locked into his crossbow. The Emperor fell without any drama, or
beauty, into a puddle that did not drown him. It didn't need to. Orlan's arrow was sticking out of the
back of his head.
For a moment, she saw Aryan's face before her, a flash of fear, and then he was gone, swept away in
the general mêlée.
Corbin grabbed her attention, sweeping Hany into his arms and repeating the cry that was going out.
"We go for the ship."
Finally, they had their chance, a new beginning, and a new place to hide until they could find others to
trust.
She hoped it wouldn't taint it much. Should she stop and
wait to heal? There was no time.
She knelt at the water's edge, the water lapping at the
rock shelf, the warmth of the stone seeping through her
skirts. She drank in the metallic smell of the sea, the
refracted sparkle of the sun, and the raucous cries of the
gulls over head. She loved this place. She concentrated
and relaxed, there was warmth, brine, sparkle and birds.
"Good morning," she said to the seawater. A smile lifted
her lips; they were old friends.
***
"It's impossible." Corbin gazed at the cliff above him.
"Just give me your hand."
"I'm telling you, there is nothing to hold on to."
"You don't have to hold on to anything, I'll do the holding,
just reach up."
Corbin closed his eyes and, balancing on the very tip of his
toes, reached into thin air. "Orlan!" Corbin's toe began to
slip.
"Got you!" Orlan's rough hand grasped his and yanked.
Corbin scrabbled, until he found a hold for his other hand.
Toes found crevasses to rest in. He leant his face against the cold rock and waited for his heart to stop
hammering.
"How far is it?"
Orlan looked up and grinned. "Barely any distance at all."
Corbin followed his gaze and groaned. "Liar."
***
"Are we ready?" Eva asked. The water smoothed. Reaching out her right index finger she began to draw
careful circles on the seawater until she felt the connection. At that point, with a deliberate slowing of her
movements, she began to lift her finger from the surface. A spire of water came with it. She spun it up
higher and higher, tighter and tighter, until an opaque thread swirled from finger to water.
With a flick of her left wrist she set a wooden bobbin spinning in the air and, with a touch, attached the
thread. She watched as the bobbin spun and the thread wound. Then when satisfied she had enough
she broke the sea's connection with a word.
The bobbin hung.
Pulling it close she cradled it, then, once content she had infused every drop of the thread with the
warmth from her body, she spoke, "loyalty." For a moment the water glowed under her fingers, before
transforming into a vibrant red twine, much the same texture as wool. Eva smiled.
"Thank you." She said to the water, and rippled her hand across the surface to caress it. "She will like
the red."
From the little Eva had been told of the child, it seemed an appropriate color, but she felt a moment of
unease. She hoped it wasn't her own blood that had directed the water's choice. It was impossible to be
sure. Feeling guilty, she cleaned her palm on her skirt. She really must slow down on the rocks; they
were cutting her hands to ribbons.
Placing the bobbin with care so as not to snag the thread, she began again. Twice more she spun
strands from the sea, until she had added threads for 'caution' and 'fleet of eye', just as she'd been
asked to. Unusual requests for a young girl.
***
Corbin lay in the shadows gasping, but trying to be silent. Everything hurt.
Orlan lay to his left, his eyes lit with excitement, his own breath already under control. "Now what?" he
mouthed.
Corbin buried his face in the moss. He didn't share his brother's skill at climbing, or his thrill of their
quarry's proximity. After a while he stopped shaking. All right.
He mouthed words at his brother. "North. The pass."
Orlan nodded and made to move.
Corbin gripped his shoulder. "Careful."
Orlan rolled his eyes and made a great show of checking out the area before raising an eyebrow. Corbin
smiled with exasperation and fondness and nodded. They moved on.
***
Eva recorded her work, using a seawater thread to inscribe the wooden panel. At least that was what
she told the ever-waiting soldier. He never seemed to notice that she only ever wrote a single word and
that each time it was different. She was, of course, grateful because she didn't want to explain what she
was really doing. But at the same time it made her angry. He was the Emperor's man through and
through. He showed no curiosity about the person he was assigned to assist. He never asked her name,
discussed her children or thanked her for her work. He simply took the threads and walked away, just as
he did now. She watched his back as he went back to his companions and his duty. It wasn't their fault,
but they were a blight on her landscape. Black tents, open fires, stores piled, men scattered, doing
whatever it was they did, scarring her clean pristine shoreline. She hoped they wouldn't find it necessary
to stay long. Their treaty with the Emperor was demanding and intrusive.
Ending her appraisal of his retreating back, she noticed one of the villagers, Cattie, waiting by her porch.
There was never a moment of peace. She smiled to herself. Eva's husband said she liked it like that.
Perhaps he was right. Eva called across the rocks to her daughter. "Hany, it's time to go."
"Eva." Cattie greeted her. "Can I have a minute?"
"Of course." Eva led her onto the porch that fronted the cave. Her loom stood at one end and a table
with chairs at the other.
"Inside?"
Eva stared at her. "Cattie what's wrong?"
Cattie ducked her head and frowned. "Inside."
Eva drew chairs around the fire and sent Hany to play in her room. "Tell me."
"My daughter needs a new coat. She needs new threads."
"But she only had one a few months ago."
"But it is not enough this time. She needs it stronger. She climbs, just as she always has, but now,
sometimes she freezes and it takes whole minutes before she can go on. It is just as it was when she
was a child. Always the coat compensated, with two of the three threads designed to help her, but not
any more. I am afraid one day she'll be unable to get down, and worse if her confidence continues to fail,
she may fall."
Eva watched with bemusement as Cattie picked at the fabric of her skirt. And what else? Never before
had Eva and sea produced a coat that didn't work. "I'm sorry," she said.
Cattie smiled. "It's not your fault, there is so much to do now, and you are so busy."
"You think I made the threads wrong?"
"No." But her face said that she did.
"I may be busy, but I still know what I'm doing. She has just changed more quickly this time." Hurt and
consternation made her voice harsher than she intended. She pushed a stray hair back from her face. "I
will make you more threads"
"Thank you; and you're right. I'm sure it's my daughter not you. Children change so quickly.
Cattie slipped away, her face brighter, a great weight lifted. But Eva felt uneasy. She could hear the sea
shifting in her head; restless, jittery. She rose to her feet to pace.
Was she really so over-worked she was failing her own people? Since they had agreed to help the
Emperor, to share the secrets of the sea and the coats, there had been so much more for her to do, but
she hadn't felt that she was doing it badly. She lifted the kettle and placed it over the fire. She needed
tea and five minute's peace.
"Mummy?" Hany called from her room. Okay, well maybe she'd settle for the tea.
***
Corbin frowned. "Look at the state of you," he said. "You're filthy. What have you been doing?"
"Rolling in the mud." Orlan looked him in the eye and waited.
Corbin met his stare. It was a brotherly thing.
They stood, neither willing to yield. Eventually Orlan laughed. "You were always more patient than me."
Corbin grinned back. 'Honor maintained', he was now able to ask, "Why are you covered in mud?"
"Because, I might have a thread for stealth, but it's red. Red is not a subtle color."
"I wonder why Mother chose it?"
"So I'm helping her gift, by camouflaging it in a natural fashion."
"Fashion that ain't, but sensible it is. Let's go."
***
"They've forgotten again." Eva stood hands on hips, balanced on the rocks, the wind tugging at her
skirts, the waves breaking at her feet.
Liale frowned. "Forgotten what?"
"The gift."
"How do you know?" He crouched, never quite so at home with the uneven surface, and pushed the bowl
of stew into a hollow in the rocks, careful to ensure that it wouldn't slip.
"Because I have spun four sets of threads today, two for villagers and two for the Emperor's courtiers."
"And there are only three gifts."
"Exactly." Absentmindedly, she ran her fingers through her husband's long black hair, not even noticing
the soft smile on his lips. "What part of 'one gift per thread set' is it that is so difficult for Aryan to
convey?"
"Is it not his fault."
"No, but it is his responsibility. I will have to go and wrangle with him. Again. I'll be back late."
"I'll do dinner then." Eva noticed Liale look with longing at the stew he had just gifted to the sea on
Cattie's behalf.
She laughed, stopping her caress and pulling him to his feet. "The rest of that pot is sitting on the table.
Our people don't forget their obligations, a gift for the sea, and a time-saver for the Spinner. The floors
have been washed too."
Liale smiled in return. "You are wonderful."
"I know."
***
Corbin chewed on a chunk of stale bread. "Well that was a waste of time."
"Yup."
"Is that it? Yup?"
"Yup."
"No helpful suggestions? No flashes of your usual insightful inspiration? No crazy schemes?"
"Nope."
Corbin threw the last unbreakable crust to a hopeful bird. "Then we'll go east. Sleep under a tree and try
again tomorrow."
"You know there might be nothing to find." Orlan pushed the stopper back into the water skin.
"Yup."
***
"A gift was given, I saw it myself." Aryan crossed the room to pour water.
"One gift. I took two sets of threads for you, there should be two gifts." Eva countered.
"Details. The sea won't realize."
"Of course she will. And you know it. Why do you cover up his sloppiness?"
"Because I am his chamberlain, and such details are beyond his notice."
"Then you had better notice properly for him."
"I'm sorry. I will." He drank and grimaced. "I have another noble who would request a coat. Will you see
him now?"
"You said 'him'?"
"I did." Aryan stood, his eyes conveying the challenge.
"Aryan, the threads are spun for the mothers to weave. Not the fathers." She pushed her hair back from
her face, and closed her eyes, reaching for the sea with her mind. She focused, it took more effort here.
"Oh, Eva, just humor me."
"No. It doesn't work like that. The mothers are given the gift. It is they who know a family best and so
can work with their strengths and weaknesses. Enhancing what nature has already given. That is what
the threads and coats are for. They are a gift to help us to bring up our children as responsible, healthy
adults. To keep our husbands safe, to keep the mothers strong. To help us to protect our families in the
only way we can, not with swords and traps, but words and love. The men may wear the coats, but it is
the mothers who must ask the sea for them. The sea will not gift threads to men."
"Eva, this noble has come a long way. You can't expect his wife to travel over such distances alone."
"She needn't have come alone."
"You don't understand."
"No, it is you who do not understand. Or should I say your Emperor. He cannot just decide to change
things because it suits him. Either he does it right, or he does not do it at all."
"Please, Eva, the husband has consulted his wife. Lord Garce is very influential, a particular favorite of the
Emperor. Just adapt."
She reached within, nothing. The sea gave no sign. She spat out the nail she'd chewed off. "This one
time, I will do it. But I will not do it again."
"Thank you."
"I am beginning to wonder what motivates your Emperor. His nice speech about joint endeavors, the
sharing of lives and the respecting of strangers is beginning to feel hollow. He seems to think he can
take what he wants without any payment, without any thought. The sea expects us to do it her way.
Don't jeopardize our relationship with her, in your haste to get what he wants."
"I'm trying."
"I know you are. It is not you I am warning."
***
"We aren't close enough," Orlan said.
"What do you suggest?"
"That tree will do it."
Corbin tried to keep calm at this point. He didn't want hysteria to crack his voice. "It is hanging out over
the cliff, Orlan."
"It's rooted pretty deeply. Grown like that, rather than slipped there."
"And this matters because?"
"It'll take my weight."
Corbin wanted to laugh. Cry. Scream frustration. Instead he studied the tree with great care. He took a
very long, deep breath and then nodded. He didn't trust himself to speak.
"Excellent." Orlan practically bounced.
Corbin did, at that point, allow himself to roll his eyes.
Orlan chuckled, flicked off his shoes and began to climb. He moved with precision and care, light-footed
and agile. The branches got narrower. He stopped.
"Well?" Corbin whispered.
"Not close enough." Orlan's face was pinched and drawn.
"What's wrong?"
"My coat. 'Caution'. It doesn't want me to keep going."
"Maybe it has a point, Orlan."
"Perhaps it does. But we need to know, and this is the only way." He steadied himself on the branch.
"Okay. It's letting up for a moment." Orlan began to move again, but it wasn't long before he stopped.
"Now what?"
"It is a bit of a jump."
Corbin looked down and shuddered. "Are you sure?"
"You think I'd suggest it if I wasn't?"
"Oh, Hell."
Orlan reached out, perfectly balanced, then cursed and pulled back.
"What's wrong?"
"The coat. Each time I get myself balanced, it distracts me." He spoke through gritted teeth. There was
silence.
Corbin made a decision. "Take the coat off."
Orlan turned back to him, horror on his face. "I can't, it's part of me."
"It's just a coat, and right now it's interfering with your judgment. It's going to kill you. Take it off."
Orlan hesitated for a moment, made to reach out, cursed and struggled out of the coat. It lay on the
branch looking rather forlorn. Orlan made the jump. He landed without problem, now he had the view he
had wanted. Only having got it, he didn't want it any more.
***
Eva knelt on her smoothed patch of rock. The usual soldier away to one side, though these threads were
not for him. The water swirled before her, tying itself in complex knots. It made her uneasy. She placed a
hand deep into the water, closing her eyes, trying to get a clearer sense of its frustration, but all she
could glean was the feeling of disquiet that she already had.
"Why won't you tell me what's wrong? I feel you don't trust me? Or is it just that you hardly know
yourself?"
Sighing, she tried to focus enough to spin. She needed to inscribe the buttons for Hany's latest coat.
"We are doing okay, aren't we?" She said to the sea, as she placed her finger on the water. "Cattie's
daughter's threads are not strong enough this time, but that happens doesn't it? It is not so unusual
that we get it wrong." She smiled at her jangled reflection in the water. "Now, with my children, we are
getting it right. Corbin's threads still hold true, 'forgiveness', 'responsibility', and this last time 'stealth'."
He always had such patience, such sense. I sometimes feel his idea of responsibility has extended to
include the whole village."
The sea lapped at her wrists, apparently calmed by the images of the children she knew so well.
"And Orlan, we always give him threads to counter his rashness and innocence. And nothing has
changed there. He could always be counted on to climb too high in the tree. To swim too far into the
sea." She smiled. "To succeed where the others didn't dare to go. He still has no concept of danger. It
makes him glorious fun to be around, but terrifying too."
The seawater hiccupped, as if laughing at the middle child. Orlan made everyone smile.
"You know it's funny, but knowing which traits became significant in the boys you'd think I could look at
Hany and guess what she will become; that the benefit of seeing them grow would give me clues on how
to guess her future. But it hasn't. Will she stay quiet and withdrawn? Will she stay curious? Should I
give her gregariousness or caution? How can I tell now what will be significant later? I'd like to think
stubbornness will remain one of her strengths, but what if it makes her pigheaded and mulish?" The sea
flicked at her wrist. "Yes, I know that is a rather colorful image. Even after all the years of practice I have
had, all the years of studying the people around me. It is still difficult to make the right decisions. Who
ever really knows what their children will become? But I think our choices, for Hany, this time are fair.
'Forgiveness', 'curiosity' and 'an interest in others'."
She lifted her palm out of the water, placed the tip of her finger onto the surface and began to spin.
Tightening the thread she drew it down to the wood of Hany's button. As she ran her finger over its
surface the water left a silvery trail as she spelt out 'forgiveness'. The word shimmered in the sunlight. In
the mood to remember, she was reminded of the many times she had done this, the most bittersweet of
her tasks. Sweet when she carved words of promise into cradles the fathers made, bitter when it was
onto the coffins.
The buttons finished, she continued the thread to trace words on the usual wooden panels that rested
nearby.
She wrote 'waterproof' and 'strength'.
***
"Eva. I need new threads for a coat for my son."
"Is he okay?"
"No. His breathing grows more labored by the day."
"The coat is failing? Another? I will spin new threads. I just hope they will be enough."
***
Corbin stretched his toes. It was their turn. He'd done his ankles and knees just moments before. Lying
still for so long was taking its toll. Orlan slipped silently down beside him, making him jump. Orlan's face
was ashen. He twitched his head for Corbin to follow.
Still saying nothing, Orlan nodded over the precipice. Corbin crawled into place.
His fingers dug into the turf, and he bit down hard on his lip, desperate not to cry out. Below an army of
men gathered. They all wore coats of threads that had been spun by their mother and woven by the
villagers.
"Am I really seeing what I think I'm seeing?" Orlan whispered.
Corbin just stared. He rubbed grass-stained hands over his face. "We've been betrayed."
***
Eva sat on the shoreline, trailing threads over wooden panels. Her sons were back. It was nice, even if
what they had to say was not.
"You were right." Corbin told her. "The coats are going to soldiers. He is creating an army, using our
gifts to make them strong."
She closed her eyes around sudden tears. "I had hoped not, but the signs were just a little too clear.
People who all wanted the same three threads, men coming when women should have, and of course the
failing of our coats. The sea knew they were not honoring the treaty. She is taking back the whole gift.
Taking it away from all of us."
"We have to break our association with them."
Eva smiled. "Then she will give us back what she once gave us?"
"Yes."
She dug her nails into the wood. "Nothing is that simple. I don't think we can rely on the sea for this. We
have to undo what I started."
Corbin shook his head. "The Emperor will not want to give it back."
"No."
Orlan's eyes lit up with mischief. "We need the contingency."
Eva grinned at her son. "Yes." She finished her writing and looked up. Before her was a ship. Neither she
nor any of her people had made a ship before. The sea had always given them all that they needed in her
shallows, and they had never felt a need to travel. But, the coming of the Emperor had changed
everything. The villagers had never really trusted him. So they had agreed to build a ship. Just in case.
They had done it the way they had thought would be best. Every time Eva spun threads for a coat, she
had engraved a panel of wood for the ship. And she had done it right under the soldier's noses. It had
seemed fitting. She had engraved each panel with words of guidance or protection 'Waterproof', 'Storm
rider', and 'Navigable', to name but a few.
As a result, when she leant back and looked up, their vessel was a strange beast indeed. It glowed under
the weight of its hopeful intentions. The words on each individual panel shimmered in their constant
motion; the sea was never still, giving it a fish-like quality that suited its purpose. It was beautiful, and
seemed almost to breathe as it lay quietly growing on the rock.
"This can be the last panel. Finish its construction. I suspect we don't have much time."
***
Aryan and Eva stood in companionable silence, gazing out over the ever-changing surface of the sea.
Hany threw pebbles into the water at their side. Eva swore to herself, this was nice. She didn't want to
spoil it. It was such a shame that Aryan was not the Emperor.
"Aryan."
"Yes?"
"There is a new fashion in your court."
"Oh, yes?"
"Lying. That soldier, over by the fire pit, is wearing Lord Garce's coat."
"Is he?"
"You are taking us for fools."
"The Emperor thought you too naive to notice."
"He's wrong. We won't stand by and let him abuse the sea."
"Is there truly anything you can do to stop him?" He turned to her then, and looked her in the eye. "Be
careful Eva. You might be right, but the Emperor is an arrogant and powerful man. Remember that."
They stood a moment more watching the waves crash against the shore. "There must have been quite a
storm out there last night." He observed eventually.
"There was no storm, Aryan. That is the sea demonstrating her displeasure. Your Emperor may be able
to trick and even threaten us. But, he has no influence over her. He should be careful. She will have her
revenge."
"I'll tell him."
"And will he listen?"
Aryan smiled his crooked smile, not even turning to look at her. "No. He won't."
To the right, they heard swearing and laughter, and the splashes of men.
Eva stared with horror. "They are swimming in the sea."
She ran without thought and stood over them, her fists clenched, her breath rasping. "Get out. Get out.
How dare you. How dare you defile her and treat her like that."
Aryan was at her side, his voice hard, his orders more effective then her cries. Men were out and dripping
on the bank within seconds. Eva was so angry, that tears came to her eyes. "How could they do that?
How can they not understand?"
"Eva." Aryan hands fluttered through her anger, his eyes focused over her shoulder.
"What?"
"The Emperor has come to see you."
At that moment in time she could have gouged the Emperor's eyes out with her fingernails, but instead
she drew Hany protectively to her side, took a deep breath and curtseyed to the man who stood before
her. He was young and fat, with pinched, selfish eyes.
"My man says there have been oversights." There was no apology or contrition.
She kept her voice steady, contenting herself with the image of slapping him in her mind. "The gifts are
being forgotten. They are meant to be important to the person and well-considered."
"I see. And we owe many gifts, do we?"
"Yes."
"Very well." He beckoned to one of the dripping men. "One gift, of great value, to compensate for the
many missed." He drew a dagger and jabbed it under the man's ribcage, twisting the blade up into his
heart. There was a terrible moment of stillness, then he flopped screaming and floundering into the sea,
in a gross caricature of the swimming he'd just been reprimanded for.
***
Eva's shock was absolute.
The emperor raised an eyebrow. His point made, he turned and walked away.
Eva pulled Hany close, hiding her face from the body that now floated in the shallows. How could he do
that? How could he?
"No." Eva's voice carried, shaky from emotion, over the rocks. "There will be no more threads."
The Emperor stopped.
"You consistently refuse to understand. Take pleasure in deliberately doing it wrongly. So now you won't
do it at all."
"Eva, consider your words." Aryan stepped towards her.
"My people are losing their connection with the sea. Losing the benefit. I have to think of them. You
refuse to thank the sea for her gift. You don't deserve it. You refuse to use it properly. I know you are
giving the coats to others who were not intended to wear them. They are personal gifts, not a cure-all.
They cannot go to the wrong people. We will do this no more."
The Emperor turned then. "Yes you will. Aryan."
Aryan's hands fluttered for a moment, just as they always did when he was unhappy and unwilling. Then
they stopped and the orders began. Soldiers started rounding up the villagers.
Eva knew to fight was useless, but not to fight was unthinkable. They weren't going to do this to Hany.
The child had seen too much. They weren't going to have her.
"Hany," she whispered. "When I say, run to the cave. Okay?"
Hany managed a soft "Yes."
Eva drew a deep breath and raising her arms she called to the sea.
Tight tornados of water rose just beyond the shore, spinning up to the height of a man. With a
wordless gesture they stilled and for one terrible moment the soldiers looked up at spires of water, as
hard as ice, glowing blue in the dusk. "Now." Eva whispered to her child. Then the tornados moved and
consumed the screaming men, with all the unforgiving fury of the sea on a tempestuous night. Crushing
and ripping with the fury of a mother whose children are threatened. Men might set traps and build
fortifications, accepting the inevitability of battle, but women. They wait. They wait until the enemy is
upon their doors, has proven his terror is real, then they sweep the children behind skirts, they pick up
their pitchforks and scream their rage. They may not plan or manipulate, but there should never be any
underestimating them.
***
Silence hit with the smash of spent water.
Eva gagged, horrified by what her desperation had led her to. "Hany?" She swept the shore, but the girl
had done what she'd been told. "Thank you." She whispered to the sea.
"For what? The sea seems to have abandoned you, or do you have another tornado waiting for me too?"
Aryan seemed unfazed by the loss of half his soldiers, the destruction of their makeshift camp and, that
the villagers were no more than a little damp.
"No. No more killing. The sea wants us to live and prosper. There must be no more death." Eva knew
from the surging whispers in her head the sea would not help her again. She had helped for Hany's sake
and that was that.
The Emperor still stood, dead men scattered at his feet, but he was not even scratched by the
devastation. Eva swore in her head, hard, heavy words that would have shocked if she hadn't been so
desperate. His death would at least have solved one thing.
With her fury spent and curtailed, the soldiers who were left had the villagers rounded up and kneeling
on the soft sand within minutes. She couldn't decide which was worse, the fact they had done it at all, or
the fact it had apparently been planned for.
"The weaving will continue Aryan." The Emperor spoke, as if nothing more significant had occurred to
interrupt his speech than a bucking horse. "At least now we don't have to play any more games." He
smiled; mean, thin-lipped triumph, then turned. "Oh, and for every twenty coats made, sacrifice the
weakest worker. The sea must have her price."
Despite herself Eva moved, every fiber of her being wanting to place angry hands about his neck.
She heard a step behind, darkness fell.
***
"Hany? Hany? Are you here?" Corbin tried to keep his voice low, but desperation was making it hard. He
cast a concerned look back at Orlan.
"She's here. I know it." It wasn't the first time he'd said it.
They reached a dead end in the tunnel.
"She isn't, Orlan. She isn't here. They have her. She's too young for all of this. She shouldn't be part of
it. We should have been here. Protected her."
"Shut up."
"We let her down. Not saying it won't stop it being true."
"No, shut up. I can hear her breathing."
Corbin strained, and just above the whisper of the sea he too could detect the soft snores of his sister.
Orlan grinned, lifted his torch up and revealed a shaft in the flickering flames. Hany was curled on a ledge.
"Thank goodness."
***
Eva floated. There was sound and there was movement and there was depth. She had a sense of a mind
so vast it remembered eons. A mind so vast it spread beyond the horizon. A mind both gentle and
terrible in its generosity and care. A mind to be appreciated. A mind to respect.
And Eva did respect it. She felt no fear. There was only security, nurturing and love. Eva floated. There
was sound and there was movement and there was depth.
***
Corbin bade Henry find a meal, it had been a long trek and they had found no one. Hany looked up from
the pool of seawater
where she played as she heard the familiar voice. But her smile faded at the sight of her brother's face.
"Mummy?"
Corbin put his arm around her shoulders. "Not yet, little one. Give us time."
He led her into the cave and gazed around. Twenty-five. Twenty-five survivors were all they had been
able to discover. They had enough food and water for now. But their supplies would not last long.
Orlan grabbed his arm as he entered the cave, a whirl of energy in the midst of defeated stillness.
"The boat is finished." He winked at Hany. "Time to move onto the next stage."
***
Cattie brought Eva her breakfast. Her eyes were red, her hands shaking and she wouldn't look Eva in the
eye.
Eva couldn't bring herself to speak and she watched the young woman struggle with cup, plate and
cutlery, keeping her own head bent, her own presence withdrawn.
But with the whisper of a closing door, and the click of a lock she began to tremble. Her temper. Her
volcanic, unpredictable temper. That was what had brought them to this. It was all her fault. Better that
she wasn't there. Better that there be no one to endanger her people further with dangerous outbursts.
Better that there be no one to spin. Better that she no longer 'be'.
She gazed down. The dinner knife did not look sharp enough, but as she had no experience of such
things, she dismissed her doubts. She would try anyway.
***
Corbin and Orlan exchanged glances. They both knew what had to be done. Neither wanted to do it.
Orlan drew his knife first, but did not move. Corbin drew his own. "Wait." He mouthed. In his mind's eye
he saw his sister and his mother.
He didn't look back at Orlan. He didn't want to share this moment. If he did it alone, then he could
pretend it had never happened.
The soldiers died in their sleep. Peaceful and unaware. Put like that it was a good way to go. Desirable.
But a man was supposed to be infirm and tottering when he looked for such ambitions. Not young and
uniformed.
Corbin walked away. He did not look back. Orlan's knife was back in his belt. He did not speak. There
were cries of alarm behind them, as others came. Corbin turned, guilt dictating his response, but Orlan
grabbed his wrist. "Run." He breathed, and led them through the shadows.
***
Aryan's hands fluttered. "Did she succeed?"
The physician cut the bandage and put what was left in his bag. "No, my Lord. She will be fine."
"Foolish woman. There is never any way out."
The physician twitched his head and left.
Aryan folded his hands. "There is never any way out."
***
Corbin saw Orlan freeze across the clearing, and slipped back into deeper shadow. He couldn't see
whatever it was that had given Orlan pause, but he trusted his younger brother's instincts. The bark on
the tree pressed rough against his palms, a bramble pricked his ankle, but he did not move.
The soldiers slipped through the trees with such skill, that if Orlan hadn't spotted their shadows they'd
have been caught. You had to admire them. Hate them, of course, but admire them too.
Corbin opened his mouth to let out the involuntary breath he'd drawn. Through the trees his eyes
stayed focused on where he knew his brother had last been. Then the men were gone. He waited, but
they did not reappear. Just a little bit longer.
But Orlan was already moving. He was stopped by a knife-blade to his throat. The soldier had been
standing in the shadows.
Orlan's eyes swiveled to Corbin. "He's good," he said.
"Yep." Corbin stepped out into the clearing.
The soldier's eyes went wide at the sight. "Didn't see you, though."
"We'll always be better."
"You are the prisoners." The man observed.
Orlan and Corbin still held each other's gaze, the ghost of a smile on each pair of lips. "Yes."
***
"Eva." Aryan was there again. Polite, smart and implacable. It was amazing how much you could hate a
person. It was almost palpable, bile rose in her throat even as she set eyes on him, and her head ached.
"Go away."
Aryan sighed and for a moment he knelt on the floor, facing her where she rested on the bed. He ran his
fingers gently over her wrists, where bandages hid the cuts she had made with the knife the night
before. It had been too blunt to do anything but tear her skin, and they had found her too fast for her
to succeed.
She felt such guilt. Better that she was gone, and no longer responsible. But she wasn't, and she was.
Aryan sighed, "This is the way it will be. You will do as you are told. Please."
She looked him firmly in the eye. "I wish," she said.
But Aryan just shook his head. "No point." And he rose, his movements studied and graceful as always.
"It is out of your hands."
The next man to enter was the Emperor.
He was wearing Corbin's coat.
He did not speak; he just looked her in the eye and gestured to a servant. In the corridor she could hear
anger and fear, and the occasional grunt of pain. Her heart sank.
Orlan was dragged into the room, kicking, and shouting. Corbin was still, his face turned behind, his eyes
never leaving the one who followed.
"Hany," she gasped. The little girl cried out and, as she pulled to her mother, Corbin moved. Having been
docile and easy up until now, their grasp was lax with him. He slammed hard into the guards, making
them loose their grip on Hany and she ran to Eva
Orlan calmed, the distraction no longer required.
Once Corbin was dragged to his knees and bound they made to take Hany, but the Emperor shook his
head.
"Your daughter is yours. You understand I cannot return your sons." Eva buried her face in the soft
russet hair. She couldn't do this. She couldn't. Hany whispered into her chest. "The ship is done."
That was something at least. But how would they get to it?
"I like this coat." The Emperor stroked the fabric. The coat was black, with light and dark grey detailing
around hem and cuffs that ran almost three quarters of the way up the coat. Whatever pattern or
design a mother might choose, the threads were of equal proportion. "Perhaps I will have one
commissioned for me. Of course I need no controlling, but a little reinforcement of my perfections would
be no bad thing." He laughed at his own immodesty.
Eva watched her son. Corbin shivered from so much more than the cold. His face was pinched, and now
that he was at rest Eva could see that he was struggling to breathe. It shocked her, she hadn't realized
how dependant they had become on the coats. They took them off at night with no problem. She
wondered how long Corbin had been separated from his.
The Emperor smiled, swaying the generous fabric around him. "Very smart, very dapper. You must
charm all the girls in a coat such as this."
Corbin, winced and shook his head. He was struggling to stay focused.
"Never mind Corbin. Your Mother will soon have your next coat ready for you. Or you'll be dead. Either
way you won't be needing this back."
Eva avoided his gaze. "What you want, won't work."
"Never the less. Aryan."
Aryan stepped forward. "The Emperor has questions."
She sighed. "Yes, I know. He wants answers to all the questions I wouldn't answer when we signed the
treaty. Fine, here are the answers. A coat with more than three threads makes the wearer become
volatile and unpredictable, so I will not make one. Making other garments, which can be introduced with
the coats, would have the same effect. And smaller items like vests or armbands, wouldn't be enough.
We don't do what we do by accident. We do what we do, in the way we do it, from generations of
experimentation and learning."
Aryan smiled at her, his hands twitching as if he thought of applauding. "Well yes, I think you have
covered most of the topics. Let me tell you what he has in mind, and perhaps, once you realize how
reasonable his demands are, you will capitulate without the need for violence." His eyes flicked
meaningfully to her sons. "The Emperor wants loyalty. Absolute. He wants shielding. And he wants guile
in his generals, obedience in his foot soldiers. Unquestioning obedience, just in case there is any other
kind. You see, I did listen. I know that I must be specific in my requests."
Despite herself she was drawn in. "We've been through this, Aryan. It isn't that simple. You can't just
give the men the same coats, and expect the same responses. You have to take into account their
existing personalities when making decisions for the future."
He frowned at her. "But these are just conscripted soldiers." He made them sound like a category of
their own, some type of subspecies.
"Surely you can see that one style of coat cannot work for all? Take my sons. If you give obedience and
loyalty to Orlan, you might as well squish him into a ball and leave him to die. You take away his creativity
and freedom to improvise. If you give
Corbin obedience and loyalty to only one man you would tear him in two. He cares for everyone with the
same intensity and regard. He could no more follow one man than you could cut off your hand.
"What you want is some magic recipe, with the magic ingredients, that will work on every man. Life isn't
like that. If it were, all parents would be standing in line waiting for the absolute solution to their
children's happiness.
"It is pure laziness on your part. Even you should know one size does not fit all. Cannot fit all. Nothing is
that simple. Surely not even you."
"You overstep your boundaries."
"Sorry, I forgot the rules. Pleasantness until the time for pleasantness is past. I'll try not to forget
again." She bobbed her head in a parody of a curtsey, and grimaced.
"There isn't time to analyze each man. That is just ridiculous."
"That is why we are a small village, who change the coats regularly, as people grow. Trying to apply one
to all is madness, and asking for madness in return."
The Emperor stopped admiring the coat. "It doesn't bother me whether or not a few of the slaves
cannot cope with their fetters. There will be one design, and it will do for all."
"Fine. I'll make your coats, your way."
The Emperor smiled, then paused, blinked and went pale. On first hand, he appeared to be experiencing
the effects of wearing a coat not designed for him. With a grimace he took it off and threw it into the fire.
Corbin bit his lip. It was only a coat. Only a coat.
***
With the dawning of a new day Eva and Hany went to spin. The light was soft on the rocks, muzzy, as if
newly awakened like her. How could life be so terrible, and yet the world so uncaring? She glanced at the
soldier who accompanied them and wondered how long it could all last.
Stepping in front of him, she took in deep breaths of the sea air and began to walk. All along the shore,
in the wooden porches built specifically onto the fronts of the caves mothers sat. The clack clack clack of
the looms as they worked providing a harsh counterpoint to the soft shush of the waves. She passed
them all. Mothers cooking and mothers nursing. Mothers scolding and mothers warming tea. Life just as
it always had been, just as it always should be.
But there were little telltale signs as she walked that gave the game away. The lack of men just sitting,
smoking on pipes as they waited for the morning to warm. The lack of children trawling the rock pools
for tiny gems of flotsam to cherish. The signs of wreckage, where her anger and the sea had caused
havoc. And of course the fact every loom had a work in progress upon it. Mothers sat sewing together
the last pieces of coats their children might never wear. Worse to think they might. For they wove coats
that enslaved and deadened. The pain of their task was evident in every face she passed. Some of the
women nodded to her, but others turned their heads, unable to forgive her for loosing her temper, and
then for not refusing. For forcing them to make the same decisions over family and principles. The same
decisions that meant they sat and wove, as she went to spin. All against their wills. All to keep alive
family members who would be forced to wear coats that would slowly kill them. Coats they had made.
How could their world have come to this? The sea was responsible. Without it there would have been
none of it. Anger ran through her. What a waste of her wonderful village.
Ignoring cuts and abrasions she pulled herself over the rocks. Eventually she stood on the smooth stone
she had knelt on so many times before.
"Look at what you have brought us to," her fists clenched, her nails digging into her palms. "Look at
what we have become. This gift of yours has destroyed us. Our people are enslaved, my boys
imprisoned and a ship stands useless." The water at her feet remained impassive and calm. She picked
up a rock and hurled it as hard as she could.
"Don't be like that. Don't be still and indifferent. Be apologetic. Be evading. Be angry. Just be something.
Don't you dare pretend
not to be. How dare you. How dare you pretend that this has nothing to do with you. You made us a
desirable commodity and someone came and took it." The sea rippled across the lower rocks.
"You told me how to look out for them. You nurtured them as well as me. Don't you care? Doesn't it
bother you they have come to this? That the gift could not save them?
At the very least you could have refused the Emperor the gift. But no, you let it work. You let the
spinning be successful. Why did you give the gift to him? He who would abuse it, waste it; denigrate it?
Have you no conscience?"
The seawater remained impassive.
Eva lifted her head and screamed her anger up and away from the sea. She screamed and screamed,
until her voice broke and then she fell to her knees and sobbed, her salt tears lost in the brine before her.
How long she remained there she had no idea. Her tears had dried up long ago. Her mind was befuddled
by the wash of waves and the refraction of reflection. The world had shattered and was now reformed.
Time was lost and her world was gone. But in and out of her mind words washed through. Hope. Life.
Trust.
She accepted them.
***
Corbin rose stiffly from the damp ground. His coat was heavy from rain and mud, but he was weighed
down by far more than that. "Loyalty', 'obedience', and 'shielding'.
He bent down to pass a cup to one of the children. The coat tugged at him, its intentions at odds with
his own.
He picked up wood for a fire he would not sit by. The coat seemed to burn, his breath caught in his
throat and he nearly dropped his bundle, but despite the coat he delivered it. His loyalties were not to be
questioned. No coat was going to rule him.
***
Eva returned to the House, the guard waiting outside in a mockery of good manners come way too late.
Hany sat on the wooden porch, hiding behind the loom. Before her was a bowl of seawater. As Eva
watched Hany placed her right index finger on the surface and began to trace circles over the water.
Eva's mind reeled as she watched Hany make the connection with the water. The thread began to rise up
to the bobbin she held in her other hand.
Hany looked up. Woman to woman their gazes met and Hany grinned.
So this was what the sea had had in mind. Another weaver, one the Emperor did not know about, one
he could not control!
***
Corbin met Hany at the fence. She smiled and handed him a plate of fresh vegetables. He smiled back.
Under the plate was a set of tiny threads, threads that said 'love', 'hope', 'freedom'. Of course, the
words did not matter; just their presence would be enough. He slipped them into his pocket; ignoring
the pain than ran like a shock through his torso. He moved away.
Corbin watched as Orlan dragged his weary, hunched body over to the makeshift bench. All he was, was
now bent under the weight of a coat that enslaved not empowered him. Corbin's heart ached for him.
Corbin sat himself on another bench. Henry slumped, trying to warm himself in the pale sun. He opened
his eyes, eyes that once had sparkled, but now were dull. "You should run boy. Get him out while he still
has the strength to go."
Corbin grimaced, a twisted parody of a smile. "Shut up old man. We'll all go, when we're ready."
Corbin patted Henry's shoulder, weaving one of Hany's tiny threads into his coat without his knowledge.
Henry still spoke out, but most did not anymore. The coats were taking effect.
Corbin clenched teeth against pain as he wove. He kept the responsibility of the escape plan on his own
shoulders, and the price. But it didn't matter; watching Henry relax as the thread began its work on the
emperor-given coat was all Corbin needed. He stroked his own 'prison'; it too was now littered with
additional threads. Countermanding threads that, as their numbers grew, would jangle the original
messages. There could never be more than three.
Corbin gasped as he contemplated treason, and the coat reacted, but sanity lay in a sense of duty; he
just hoped it wouldn't kill him.
***
Eva stood at Aryan's side, Hany's hidden behind her skirts. She was going to protect her from what was
to come, in any way she could. The Emperor was seated upon his large and fiery stallion, held in check by
a nervous stableman.
Before them lay the battlefield. Two bodies of men. How pathetic they looked. Like children lined up for a
game. But this was no game and men would die. Her sons were with those men.
In the distance other soldiers stood, sons of farmers and fishermen, called to defend their homes.
Determined but terrified. They faced the Emperor's trained infantry.
Before her the Emperor's stood implacable. Silent and stiff, their image as ragged as those they faced,
for each had different colored threads, despite the fact they contained almost identical sentiments.
The Emperor raised his sword, his gold cloak fanning out behind him in the gentle breeze, his face was
rouged, his eyes outlined. He looked perfect.
"Charge." The command came from both sides and in that instant the armies moved.
The Emperor's host dissolved into chaos. Men milled in confusion, others ran in the wrong direction,
defiantly disobeying the orders. Some had the sense to turn on the Emperor's volunteers, but most
sank to their knees and wept their relief.
Eva watched as Orlan turned, his arrow locked into his crossbow. The Emperor fell without any drama, or
beauty, into a puddle that did not drown him. It didn't need to. Orlan's arrow was sticking out of the
back of his head.
For a moment, she saw Aryan's face before her, a flash of fear, and then he was gone, swept away in
the general mêlée.
Corbin grabbed her attention, sweeping Hany into his arms and repeating the cry that was going out.
"We go for the ship."
Finally, they had their chance, a new beginning, and a new place to hide until they could find others to
trust.
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