For the Gods and Their Changing Minds (Chapter 2)

Place

Arakarta: Rindu and Kisah’s kingdom

Silver: An independent state located about an hour away from Arakarta

Faction

Ayir: Those who can control water

Bara: Those who can wield fire

Character/object

Larc: A barkeep in Silver

Len: A medicine that doubles as a drug when taken in small quantities

Lili: Rindu’s attendant

Rindu didn't know which of the two was louder, the pungent smell of sweat and alcohol or the wailing of the drunks at the back of the tavern. But she didn't mind either. She pushed through the crowd of people, who in turn only looked at her funny for a mere second. No curious stares, no whispers, nor judgement. No one knew or cared who she was. A stool was free at the bar, Rindu claimed it before anyone else could.

"We haven't seen you in a few weeks," Larc said from behind the bar. "Busy burning stuff?"

"More or less, yes," Rindu replied, feeling inside the pocket of her trousers. The small bump made her giddy. "A glass of arrack, please."

"Sorry, there's only ale left."

Rindu groaned but accepted it. Anything to wash the awful training session with her father from her mind. Larc’s brown curls fell on his forehead as he poured her glass. Rindu ignored the instinct to push them back because the last time she’d given in, her lips had ended up on his not long after. It would've been quite romantic had it not happened against the wall where the drunks like to piss. Rindu winced thinking of strangers' secretions on her clothes.

"Thank you," she said as Larc placed the drink in front of her.

The stench was abominable, but Rindu was desperate. She reached to her pocket and pulled out the leaf she’d stolen. Larc shook his head when Rindu placed it on the bar and pushed it toward him. But then he grinned, flashing his dimple—that took the weight off her shoulder. Larc bent down and retrieved a hammer.

This way was a primitive one, but she couldn't exactly melt the leaf with her fire. Her power was defective. So Larc hit the leaf with his hammer. The loud bang would have turned heads anywhere else, but this was Silver. In Silver, nobody cared. The leaf crumbled into red powder, and Rindu halved it with the side of her palm. The other half was for Larc. He swiped it carefully into a small cup before covering it with a stained white cloth.

"You're not going to drink it?" Rindu asked.

"When I can sell it instead? There's cheaper stuff for getting high around here, Rindu."

Rindu shrugged and swept her half of the Len into her ale. A speck flew and Rindu fanned it away. The powder blended in her drink at once and she tipped it back.

"Slow down, you're a lightweight," Larc said as he prepared another pint for another patron. Rindu liked that he lingered despite being the only barkeep in a busy tavern.

"No, it's fine. I'm just hungry.”

"That makes it better." He shook his head. "Your father?"

Rindu cringed. Even Len couldn't suppress that. "Satria," she corrected him in between gulps.

He lifted an eyebrow. "I don't understand you, if I'm being honest."

Her blood chilled, her mood lifted. Len worked hard and fast.

"What's so hard to understand?" she replied. For some reason she wanted to laugh but decided to hold it in.

"You're twenty-five—"

"Twenty-three."

"You're twenty-three. You're rich. I'm sure you can find work with your power here in Silver. Or even in the World Beyond."

"What’s your point?"

"Why are you still in Arakarta?" he asked. His tongue didn’t roll the “r” in Arakarta.

He leaned both arms on the bar. The pressure of holding his weight made his muscles visible. Rindu drank again. Larc took her pint away before inching his foreigner’s face closer—the tip of his high nose bridge slicked by sweat, his green eyes crowned by such long lashes. "I think half is more than enough with the Len, Rindu."

She didn't protest; he was right—with that face he could never be wrong. But the potency of Len diminished the need for any other substance.

"So?" he asked again.

"Because it's my home, and I have a duty to stay."

"You've come here for years, and not once have I seen you smile walking in. Not until you have enough alcohol in your body, at least. You always say that you’ve failed, and that's bad because everyone is expecting great things for you."

His wet lips were distracting.

"It sounds like you don't have a place in your own home. Like you have to earn it or something. You should—"

"Sssh," Rindu replied. "You're ruining my high."

Larc chuckled, inching even closer. He was so close she could smell the ale and carrot on his breath. His hand burned her cheek when he touched her.

"Rindu?" A voice with an Arakartan accent came from her right.

She must've been so high—no Arakartan would come here. But Larc turned to see who it was, and she did the same.

Kisah stood a few steps from them.

Rindu grinned. "What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Dinner," she replied, pointing at her half-empty glass as if it was an achievement.

"We need to go," Kisah said. He then eyed Larc, who was now serving some drunks a little way down the bar.

"No."

"Rindu."

"I'm not finished."

"Arindu," he said, creases visible on his forehead, his voice even deeper.

Rindu didn't understand. What could he be so unhappy about? She wasn’t breaking their pact.

"We have a mass to attend. Your father will notice if you aren't there."

Defeated, she could only afford a groan, which he ignored. Kisah reached into the pocket in his dark blue trousers, which matched his silky tunic, and pulled out two shiny coins to pay for her drink. It was way too much for a single Silverian ale, but Larc accepted them. Kisah ushered her toward the exit, his right arm in front of her as if thinking he had to shield her from the drunks. But they were Silver’s finest—they never judged. Rindu needed protection from her fellow Arakartans, not them.

It was nearing midnight but the street was still alive. Humbleborn Silverians, mostly in grey or brown clothing (or yellow if they’d thrown up on themselves, which was not uncommon at this hour) loitered about. Affordable taverns and pleasure parlors lined the narrow street, preying on anyone with no inhibition left to resist wasting their hard-earned coin. The night breeze hit her face like a soft kiss. Rindu closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. 

"What are you doing?" Kisah asked.

Then she felt it—sensations rising from old memories. It started at the nape of her neck before crawling down her back. She shivered, small goosebumps spread across her bare shoulders, then she let out a giggle when she felt a tingle in her gut. 

Rindu opened her eyes. "You've never tried it? The Whispering Wind's Memory?"

Kisah shook his head then swiped a strand of black hair off his face.

"It's as the elders used to say: if you close your eyes and breathe when the wind touches your face, you'll relive a memory." 

"Which memory did you see?"

"It always comes without images. You just feel a rush," Rindu replied. "The one I had just now was light. It felt tender and warm."

"I don't need the wind to feel that way,” he muttered, adjusting the arm bangle he wore over his long uniform sleeve.

“But what were you doing in the tavern? In Silver at this hour?” she asked before one of the pleasure parlors behind him caught her eyes. There was a burning in her chest that didn’t come from her high. “Did the satisfaction come with a new thirst?”

Kisah followed Rindu’s gaze to the parlor. He scoffed. “No, I came to find you.”

Even his scoff sounded beautiful like the way he spoke, the way he looked, the way he breathed. Maybe he could thank his parents for that. They were important in Arakarta, great defenders during the Revolt, and kind and loving toward their son.

“But how did you know I was here?”

“You’re not as mysterious as you think you are, you know,” he said, his voice deepening again. He was angry.

Someone was banging on what sounded like pots and pans, and Rindu was high enough to consider it a pretty melody. She wanted to linger. Badly. Kisah pulled her by the arm and she half hoped for an invitation to dance, but he simply picked up his pace, claiming they had no time.

Nonsense.

“We should walk back to Arakarta. It’s a beautiful night,” she said.

“It will take us an hour. More if we want to avoid stepping on all the horse shit. We’ll take the boat,” he replied, not saying more even after Rindu’s second groan.

The Bliss Strip was close to the main canal connecting Silver to Arakarta—and was the main reason why she often frequented Larc’s tavern. Kisah asked Rindu once or twice for directions; he didn’t know Silver like she did. Buildings became sparser as they continued along the dirt path and concrete eventually gave way to wild grass and fertile trees.

There was nobody left when they reached the port dock. The Ayirs in charge of this one must have returned to Arakarta to prepare for the Mass. Only a single boat was available. Kisah held his right palm in front of his hip. With a subtle movement, the water around the boat eased, then stilled, almost frozen. He extended his left hand to Rindu, guiding her as she stepped aboard the boat. She sat in the first row. Kisah settled next to her, leaving the two rows behind them empty.

He stretched his left hand out over the water and the boat began to move. Steady, like his nature. That was one of the many differences between her and Kisah. Not only was he an Ayir and not a Bara, but he was also much more skilled. But that didn't bother her tonight. Tonight, the water was astonishingly beautiful. Tonight, the lights of the sky above twinkled on the surface of the canal.

When she told him about it, Kisah replied, “Rindu, the sky didn’t let his moon and stars out tonight. There’s nothing reflected on the water.” His voice was still unfriendly.

She scoffed her less beautiful scoff and kept looking at the twinkles Kisah couldn’t see. If Rindu stared at them any longer, she'd be tempted to swim. But too soon they arrived in Arakarta, and Kisah quickly helped Rindu out of the boat. He led the way, traversing the deserted city center and eventually arriving at the Path which connected the main island to the small island housing only the palace and its extensions. The temple stood at the foot of the hill holding up the palace. Its door was closed. The Mass had already started.

"Wait," she whispered, stopping Kisah’s hurried tracks before he opened the door.

He turned to face her. "What is it?"

 "I'm so thirsty."

He nodded, face still tense. Cupping his hands together, he muttered, "Ayira."

Water flowed into his palm out of thin air. He had pulled it from afar with such grace and ease that she couldn’t even be jealous. Rindu reached for his wrist, impatient, spilling some of the liquid. She caught his pulse; it thumped harder as her lips brushed the side of his palm to take in the water—it felt warm on her tongue.

The first sip only made her thirst grow. Needing more, she drew closer. She glanced up, expecting him to still be angry, but his expression had softened. His gaze was fixated on the water, pulling more so she could drink as much as she needed.

Rindu drew back, letting out a heavy exhale, wiping her lips with her thumb. "So, it's not waste water, huh?"

He waved both hands to send away the remaining droplets. "Who's the barkeep?"

"Just someone I know from the tavern."

He clenched his jaw. "You took Len. What happened?"

“No, I didn’t,” she replied, giggling.

It felt good to be looked at the way Kisah looked at her now. He no longer looked angry. Tense maybe, but there was warmth in his gaze that Rindu craved whenever he wasn’t around.

“You don’t usually hold my gaze this long without it.”

Rindu died a little. Len could only do so much when it came to him.

“So, what happened?” he repeated.

She sucked in a breath. "My father threatened me with exile."

Kisah just stared at her for a while. "You should just rest tonight. I'll think of a reason to tell him," he finally said.

"After you dragged me here? No chance." Rindu shook her head a little too hard. "Besides, we can ask the gods a question tonight. Maybe they'll tell me what to do."

Rindu didn't wait for his reply. She fixed her topknot and straightened her posture. Growing up under Satria’s watchful eye, Rindu never had the option of presenting herself less than perfectly among other Arakartans in the Mass. The thought of having even one stray strand of hair killed most of her high.

Of course, she’d rather spend the night in Silver—or on the crater of the Red Mountain, but she needed answers. And although Rindu would have preferred to speak to the gods in solitude, Arakartans never pray unaccompanied. The gods feared any Arakartan on their own wouldn't be able to discern their voice from the gods’.

The Gods Hymn blared through the circular chamber as Rindu walked in; its vibrancy shook the dark walls. She sighed in relief when she saw her father hadn’t yet arrived. Lili and the fourteen other Silverians in the choir stood across from the entrance, their voices loud but non-threatening. Sturdy and resounding.

When Rindu first tried to convince her to join the choir, Lili had refused. "You're not going to rid me that easily," she’d said, which couldn't be farther from Rindu’s true intent. As Rindu’s attendant, she possessed the highest work ethic. Rindu was thankful, but felt little need to have someone help her dress or remind her to study. So Rindu, as headstrong as Lili was truthful, pestered her until Lili gave in.

Rindu stood still, waiting, her heart beating fast, when the familiar warmth touched her back.

"Let's just sit in the outer layer," Kisah whispered, stirring a shiver along her skin.

She nodded. Faces of admiration, mostly for him, welcomed them as they moved into the room. They looked down when Rindu and Kisah met their gazes, of course, so as not to be impolite. Some of the women fiddled with their sheer scarves or capes, and the men with the end of their long sleeves. They’d traded their bamboo fans for the extra fabric to keep off the midnight chill.

"I'll come with you if it happens. The exile,” Kisah whispered once they settled.

Rindu sighed, keeping her gaze on the ground. He didn't mean it, of course. Kisah had worked his whole life to become a Chief Assembly—an honorable and almost impossible endeavor. Leaving Arakarta would mean it was all for nothing.

"Or I'll train with you," Kisah said when she didn't reply.

Rindu would rather leave the island tomorrow than have him watch her fail again and again. He knew of her damaged power—was one of the very few who did—but it was easier to pretend he didn’t.

“I’ll be fine,” she replied, still not meeting his gaze.

Before Kisah could get another word in, the entrance to the temple swung open. Her father and the Chief Assembly Prakasa walked in, taking away even the most stubborn high left in her blood.