Between the Mountain and the Sea

By R. Morgan

"I love this book. Really really love this." Casey Blair, author of The Tea Princess chronicles: A Coup of Tea, Tea Set and Match and Royal Tea Service

 

"The societies in this book are so rich with detail … I always felt like I could see and feel and smell everything." Alison Cherry, author of Red

 

Olendara —  a tropical port city of warring gods and cultures, jungles and canals, faith and obsession.

 

Before their mother got sick, twins Iyo and Issa couldn't wait for the end of their apprenticeship. Iyo dreamed of joining the secretive fighters guild and killing the invaders whose harsh rule reduces their lives to mere survival. Issa craved the peace of diving for the waterstones that heal and purify in the hands of the priests. Alone in the sea, no one can sneer at her invader heritage. 

 

When they steal a divine waterstone in a desperate gamble to cure their mother, they shut themselves out of any future they could have imagined. Instead they enter a world of gods, visions and betrayal. Now their lives, everyone they love and the very existence of their city may be at risk of destruction.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Fourth Gorgon
• Release date: Feb 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9781948516075

Book preview

Chapter 1

Ready? Iyo asked his twin sister Issa. He tucked a stray lock of her tawny hair under the scarf to hide it. Today was one of the three days a year Issa had to face the invaders, and they were known for taking what they wanted.

R— Issa cleared her throat. Ready. With her animal-gold eyes lowered and her hair hidden, all traces of the invader who had raped their grandmama during the Conquest of Olendara disappeared and she looked fully Olendaran, brown skin over sharp bones.

I’ll be there, Deeka, their seven-year-old neighbor said, curling her hand into Issa’s.

And me, Deego, her twin said.

We’ll take care of each other, Issa said and somehow managed to raise her chin while still looking down.

They crossed the Westing Bridge over the canal and joined the streams of Olendarans entering the market square to declare their taxes for the next season. Not even Deeka and Deego, starting their apprenticeship rotation as oyster divers today, were exempt, though they would barely earn enough to buy one family portion of rice this season. And after taxes, not even that. Iyo pushed away thoughts of their own earnings—reduced now that Mama and Uncle were so sick—and started to pay attention to his surroundings.

The old temple, as scarred and maimed as any living veteran of the invasion, still dominated the square in spite of the gouges in the blue stone façade where the invaders had hacked away the images of the Whale and Dolphin. Most of the arcades were bricked up with the warm yellow stone that looked so right in the rest of the city and like a forty-year-old wound here. There were only three entrances now, open and ready to swallow Olendarans. The closest was heavily guarded. It led to the caves below the old temple, once the holiest place in Olendara, where the ocean met the land and priests had asked for miracles from the Whale and the Dolphin. Or so the priests said. They were dungeons now and no miracles occurred there.

Wooden stalls closed up around them, narrowing the view to vendors and their wares, which was mostly fruit in this section. Papaya, salak, mango—the smell of durian rolled over them and Deego sneezed. We should talk, to blend in more, but I can’t think of anything to say. Anything I can say here. A gold-skinned invader lounged against a stall piled with imported star melons. The tricolor braid and whistle pinned to his black and red vest swung as he straightened, frowning at Iyo. No, at Deeka, who was openly staring.

Deeka, stop looking at him, Iyo hissed.

Issa pulled Deeka closer, and Iyo cut behind a row of bundled sugarcane that reached higher than their heads. On the other side, Issa led them the long way around, out of sight of the invader and his three-squad, while Iyo kept a watch behind. After a few turns, Iyo signaled that the invader hadn’t followed and Issa stopped at Mama and Uncle’s empty stall. One withered flower was caught between the counter and the upright, a reminder of normalcy. The cabinet underneath, where Uncle locked his spinning wheel, looked untampered with, due as much to the neighbors’ care as the taxes to hold the spot. Mama should have been there, Uncle spinning coir at her side, watching the invaders who bought her flowers.

What are we doing here? Deego asked. Are your mama and uncle better?

Iyo winced.

Of course they’re not, Deeka said. She stuck her wet finger in his ear and made him shriek, a sound he cut off quickly. He looked around to see if anyone had noticed.

Everything they did was circumscribed by the invaders. Resentment flared, but Iyo pushed it down. If he thought about how much he hated them, he wouldn’t be able to do the things he had to do.

Don’t fight here. Issa pulled the kids apart. We’re just stopping for a moment. She touched the dead flower but left it in place. Iyo?

My line is even longer than I expected. I should go with you.

She made a rude noise. And spend all day here? No. I’ll find someone to walk over with. In spite of the invaders’ own laws against stealing women, it didn’t stop them from harassing women, and Issa’s unique coloring seemed to rouse an avaricious, animal-like response.

Iyo left Iss, Deego and Deeka in a line with only a few mothers and uncles and their apprentice-age children. His line, in contrast, snaked halfway down one side of the square and hooked to the right in front of the old temple before curling around the bell tower and ending at the table set up over the First Holy Well, which was capped, blocked and the centerpiece in the rite of seasonal humiliation.

The younger twins in front of him were arguing about the children’s races tomorrow during the festivities. Later today the guilds would issue invitations to their apprentices to join as adults. Tomorrow, all seventeen year olds would be initiated into adulthood. His invitations and his initiation. For a moment, the old, familiar worry about what happened during initiation, while the rest of Olendara partied, pushed aside the newer, sharper worry about Mama and Uncle.

Tomorrow we’ll be adults. It felt no more real than when he had thought ‘next year we’ll be adults’ or ‘in four years we’ll be adults.’ For the first time, he didn’t know if he wanted to be an adult, not if it was anything like this last moon and a half.

The line crept forward. Worry for Mama and Uncle swept over the other worry, rearranging it like a wave over shale. A three-squad ambled by, two men white as raw fish, the third dark, their kilts the color of fresh-spilled blood. Their posture, swords and crossbows said they owned the plaza. Deego and Deeka’s blind cousin Loira, who fed the Olendaran prisoners in the old temple, didn’t get out of their way fast enough and they tripped her. One of Loira’s other cousins caught her and earned a casual slap for spoiling the invaders’ fun.

Iyo’s hands curled into fists. The invaders moved on to the old man scrubbing sea parrot guano off one of their precious beast statues. A group of Belennite refugees walked by and blocked Iyo’s view.

Another normal day.

Across the square, voices rumbled in upset. The twins in front of him stopped arguing, their shoulders tense. Iyo’s neck prickled. The line was too bunched up for him to see anything. What’s happening? he asked.

The girl behind him whispered, Something at the new registration table.

Whale and Dolphin drown it, not today. Not Issa.

Deego darted out of the crowd. Iyo! It’s Issa. An invader—you have to help.

I shouldn’t have left her alone. He pushed out of the line and grabbed a hammer from a cobbler’s stall.

No, boy, don’t do that, the cobbler implored.

Stay here, Iyo said to Deego.

Iyo ran. He dodged another snarling statue and the Olendarans who had stopped to stare. As he got closer, he could see Issa with a pale invader’s fist wrapped around her hair, forcing her face up. A gold woman and a dark man watched. Issa’s scarf was gone and her tawny eyes stared back at him unblinking. Did the invader understand her expression? Was he enjoying her fear?

Iss said loudly in their language. Her voice cracked on the last word.

a merchant said, your law.>

the invader said.

The gold one smacked the merchant. The pale invader bent Iss’s head back farther.

Olendaran. The law does apply to me,> Issa said, her voice flat with fear.

Rage narrowed Iyo’s vision. The invader wasn’t going to let go, and the others weren’t going to stop him. Iyo raised the hammer. Two small hands circled it and he jerked free. Deego threw himself at him, wrapping his arms around his waist, mashing the hammer into his side.

Iyo, Iyo, Iyo, he yelled, drawing attention to them in the too-quiet market.

Don’t be stupid, a stranger said. You know the penalty for using a weapon against them.

Don’t be stupid, Deego said. Be smart. Please, Iyo. No weapons. No fighting. Your grandmama needs you to stay alive. Look at Deeka.

Deeka was perched precariously on top of a stack of large amphora that were probably full of oil—no, indigo dye by the stamp on their sides. Iyo sucked on the scar on his lip. He wanted to smash through the invaders and kill them all, but the kids were right. He wasn’t thinking. The punishment for attacking an invader was death. With a weapon, torture before death.

Deeka mimed pushing the top amphora off. Iyo jerked his chin in agreement and dropped the hammer. She rocked back and forth on the pile. At first nothing seemed to move, but a great heave that tumbled her from her perch set them toppling. They bounced and rolled unevenly and hit the beast statue with the same accuracy she used with her slingshot on rodents. The amphora shattered. Blue dye drenched the statue from muzzle to rump. It looked offended.

Bystanders jumped back and murmured in dismay. Everyone except the invaders crowding Iss stared. Whale drown them. Iyo ducked behind two men and yelled in his best invader accent,

The pale invader looked away from Iss. She stomped on his toes and he reared back. She slid out of his grasp and along the edge of the table. Iyo bowled into the group, elbowing their ribs with more force than he would in a crowd of Olendarans. Even the little pain he caused was satisfying, and it opened enough space for Issa to run.

The pale invader grabbed at Iyo’s elbow. He jerked free and kept running. A glance over his shoulder showed the invader running a few steps after them before his fellows called him back to deal with the more serious problem of the defaced statue. They had been bending their own laws and they knew it. Issa’s appearance always had that effect on them.

His hands trembled with anger as he tapped Issa on the shoulder. They slowed to a walk, just two more Olendarans leaving the market. Issa pulled her second scarf from her belt and covered her hair. Her breath was uneven. Iyo didn’t look at her; his anger might catch the wind again and fly. There were too many invaders tempting it.

When they reached the wide, stone bridge over Slow Turn Canal, Iyo pushed aside the other pedestrians to reach the railing and looked back. A buffer of empty space surrounded the blue statue and the dark-skinned invader next to it. But they didn’t look like they were organizing a search to find Deeka. Iyo’s hands trembled harder at the realization of just how much he’d allowed Deeka to risk. I wasn’t thinking.

He leaned on the railing, and the chipped stone bit into his hands. Do you see them?

They’re fast… look.

Deeka waved from the steps of the Westing Bridge, and Deego was jumping along the row of boats tied up along the canal below her.

I shouldn’t have let them do that.

You couldn’t have stopped them and also helped me. They know their age protects them.

Not as much as they think.

Or as much as you thought either, Issa said. Look, the invaders aren’t whistling for reinforcements, just impressing everyone in sight into a clean-up gang.

Drown it. I hope that’s all it is. Nearby merchants produced baskets of water and the impressed Olendarans knelt to scrub the statue. Did you get them registered?

No, Issa said. Dora Dano will have to take them.

I didn’t pay either, drown them. You’ll have to come back with me later.

I know.

Deeka and Deego met at the entrance to Flower Street, hooked their arms over each other’s shoulders and strutted out of sight, as proud as any rooster. Relief stole the last of Iyo’s energy and he slumped against the railing.

That’s that. She slid a glance at him, and he saw the long scratch on the side of her face.

Iss, I’m sor—

Nothing wrong with me. Which meant she didn’t want to talk about it. She never did.

Chapter 2

Salty water trickled down Issa’s already wet forearms, stinging in the cut on her elbow where she’d whacked it against the boat earlier. On a normal day, Issa would expect to find about four waterstones, but it hadn’t been a normal day for a long time. She always hoped, but she’d tried to stop expecting. She levered the shells open, and, sure enough, the one hundredth gray oyster of the morning stared back at her like a dead eye.

Without looking, she flipped the meat into the first bamboo basket in front of her. The shells went in the second and her next oyster came from a third. Issa eyed Iyo’s baskets and slowed down so they would finish at the same time. Not even the delicate crystal oysters she was shucking were enough to keep her from worrying. There was so much to worry about her thoughts swam in circles like a fish with only one set of fins.

The murmurs of the priests, which were meant to be comforting to those who needed it, were barely audible; the voices of the youngest children rang more shrilly than usual against the walls of the warehouse, while the older apprentices gossiped feverishly. Beyond the open double doors, sea parrots screamed and fought over scraps, and fishing boats knocked into the docks.

Across from Iyo, the twins Elu and Elia labored carefully over their smaller harvest. Issa, Iyo, Elia and Elu had grown up together, neighbors and friends, and had spent the first years of their apprenticeships together, rotating among all the guilds. Four years ago, Elia and Elu went as apprentices to the silk guild, and Iyo and Issa to the divers and the priesthood. But now, because of the mumbling madness and the waterstone shortage, even the silk guild had sent as many apprentices as they could to increase the oyster harvest.

Elia and Elu had lost the knack of shucking oysters quickly, but Issa didn’t mind. It was unexpected and, in the middle of so much trouble, comforting to spend the last days of their apprenticeships together.

But the warehouse was as full as a thimble left out in the rainy season, and not everyone knew how to behave themselves. Like the boy from the third quarter staring at Issa’s and Elu’s hair instead of the oyster in his hand.

Iyo glared at the boy, the scar on his lip turning white and his brown eyes narrowing. The boy’s twin sister got the message and elbowed him in the ribs. Hard, by the outraged pain on his face.

If Issa didn’t hate being stared at so much it would have been funny. Elu didn’t even notice, but then his hair wasn’t as bright as hers and his eyes were brown, not animal colored.

Head Council Member Nira paused at a nearby group whose haul was almost entirely bearded oysters, the least valuable kind in Little Docks Harbor, but as likely as any others to cradle waterstones. Nira patted their shoulders, and the Dolphin brand and the six stars representing waterstones and her priestly status rippled as she flexed her arm.

Iyo paused, hands in mid air, staring at the brand, and then looked around as if to see if anyone had noticed. Issa ducked her head. Did Iyo’s stare mean he wanted to be a priest or didn’t? Would he ask to join the fighters, even if they didn’t give him a guild invitation today? He hadn’t confided in anyone, not even her, these last moons. She didn’t know what he would do, and she always knew. But thinking about his guild invitations meant she wasn’t thinking about her own, or initiation tomorrow.

A breeze, smelling of brine and seaweed, swirled in and teased her hair, lifting drying strands into the air. She pushed it back without letting go of her knife or oyster. The gestures were so reflexive they didn’t even break her rhythm, just added an extra half beat.

Elu missed his toss. Elia teased him about adding to the fishy smell that no amount of scrubbing removed from the floor. Elia looked as Olendaran as Issa wanted to look, like Iyo, with straight brown hair that resisted the breeze, eyes and skin almost the same brown, and a pleasingly sharp-boned face.

Nira’s shadow fell across Issa’s hands. Another good haul, Nira said. Good work. Issa, those shells will fetch a good price. She hesitated and then pressed on, addressing all four of them. And your mothers? she asked, as someone had asked every day for the last eight.

Every day since the priests’ announcement that the waterstones didn’t work on the mumbling madness and were too few to waste. Because each time a priest used a waterstone, for healing, water purification, or the rituals for birth and death, it shrank, eventually away to nothing.

And your uncles? Nira persisted.

A shell cracked in Iyo’s hand. Elu gave him a horrified look and blurted out, "No changes, manni Nira. Not any of them."

I am sorry, Nira said. We’re looking for a cure that doesn’t involve the waterstones. She no longer promised they would find one soon, as she had a moon ago. I know they’re proud of you. Your grandmothers are. See me at the door for your guild chits.

When she was gone, Elu said, You have to be polite to priests. Especially since you might become one of them.

I was. Iyo threw the broken shells into the basket.

Only because Elu stopped you, Elia said. We could all see what you were thinking. They can still change our guild chits, you know.

They won’t, Issa said, trying to make them stop talking. All anyone did was talk. They feel too sorry for us. She tossed oysters to everyone. Come on, we’re almost finished.

You’re making it sound like we haven’t earned them, Elu said.

Look! Elia shouted. She jumped to her feet, spilling oyster shells, and thrust her fist into the air. Pinched between her thumb and her first finger was a waterstone. Light shattered through the gem and broke into rainbows.

Elu crowed as stridently as the sea parrots. Elia pulled him up and into a dance, their bare heels drumming. The other divers took up their beat, clapping and pounding knife hilts on the wooden floor. Some of the younger kids started the chant for a successful catch.

Issa stomped one foot, but kept shucking oysters. She felt sick. One waterstone. When we used to find hundreds a day. How can they celebrate?

The noise almost covered Iyo’s gasp. Issa snapped around to look.

In his hands, a waterstone glinted wetly in the shallow cup of its shell. It held all the colors of water: cloudy green under the mist, lucid blue in the sunlight, opaque black in the shadows, white under the wind.

A gift from the Dolphin and the Whale. Our gift.

Hide it. The words were out of her mouth before she knew she was going to say them. She flicked her fingers out, reinforcing her command—it was a command—and he flipped his palm, oyster, waterstone and all, over. He slipped the waterstone into his loose sleeve and bent his arm to hold it in place.

We’re stealing a waterstone. It was like something had taken control of them.

Emotions washed over Iyo’s face: fear, worry, hope. Hope for the first time in days.

Hope made me do it. No matter how wrong it was or who else it hurt, for the chance to save Mama and Uncle.

Iss… the priests…

She knew. The priests were treating fewer injuries and letting broken bones heal with time. They’d stopped replacing the waterstones for water purification in homes, and already people had to go to their neighbors for water. Every waterstone counted.

He reached into his shirt. It’s not too late.

Shut up. They need it. She stopped herself from hunching forward and clenched her hands on her knife.

The noise was dying down around them and this bubble of privacy was about to pop. She held his gaze, trying to feed the hope she’d seen there. We have to, she whispered. It’s our chance to do something.

She saw the hope catch him, like it had caught her. That’s the last one, he said a little too loudly.

Issa straightened and looked around. The youngest divers were doing a ring dance around Elu and Elia, but the older divers had returned to their baskets with more enthusiasm. Some days the Dolphin and the Whale were bounteous and many waterstones were discovered. She knew they were thinking maybe today would be one of those days.

No one was looking at Iyo and Issa.

No one had seen them steal a waterstone.

Maybe the Dolphin and the Whale had been bounteous and we’re stealing it.

Issa didn’t even know the punishment for their crime. She’d never heard of anyone stealing one before. The priests worked for the common good of Olendara, and the waterstones were their most important tool.

It was unthinkable.

Had been unthinkable.

Mahral

I knelt next to my third-sex sibling Dusan and one of the new soldiers on the walkway at the rear of the government complex. Dusan’s pale face was drawn tight in a grimace of pain and they clutched their arm above the break. I squinted in the midmorning light off the harbor. The humerus bulged unnaturally against Dusan’s skin, but hadn’t broken through. Thank the Three.

Will you give me your hand, Dusan? They shook their head before I finished the question. Tears made their white eyes shiny. Like me, Dusan was third-sex, but they had the pale hair, eyes and skin of He Who Is More than Himself, while I was golden like They Who Are More than Themself. The new soldier was dark like She Who Is More than Herself. If Dusan had been a girl, the three of us would be a complete set, three colors, three genders, a living devotion to the Three Gods.

The stone floor was uncomfortably hot and rough under my knees, but I wouldn’t move until Dusan did. Someone would come and help soon if I couldn’t convince them to cooperate. Your good hand. I’m going to fix your arm, but I need your help. You’re being very brave, but I know you can be even braver. Inspiration struck. As brave as your big sister, Ruminis.

As predictable as sunrise, they stuck out their hand. I am as brave as Ruminis, Mahral. Will you use the godspower to fix it?

Their question stung like a hard poke to a bruise. They didn’t mean to hurt me; they were five and excited about stories of the Three and their gifts to us, and I was a natural focus of that excitement as one of only two people with the godsfire in Port Imperial. I’m sorry, Dusan, I can’t use it to heal you. You know the godspower doesn’t work here, yet. But I’m very good at broken bones even without it.

What about Nu? They tilted their head at the half-grown cat the soldier held by the scruff of his neck. Nu had a bloody gash in his flank almost as long as he was and his tail looked oddly short. He mewed with his eyes half shut but didn’t try to escape.

I’ll take care of Nu. Our little feline cousins, the small cats, wandered through the complex, sometimes into more trouble than they—or kids—could handle. Ready? I poked the back of their hand with the sedative I’d snatched from the dispensary. Squeeze my hand.

Their grip relaxed before their eyes fluttered shut. I caught them as they slumped forward. Quickly, I examined them for other injuries and, finding none, set their arm.

What’s your name again? I asked the soldier, even though I really should have remembered. He’d been here for a month already with the newest rotation of soldiers from home. I’d even sat with him once at dinner with Mother and Father, right after his troop swore their oaths to Father as the representative of the Emperor. Father was my biological father, but as the governor he was the symbolic father of every Lion’s Child in the government complex in Port Imperial, which was every Lion’s Child in Port Imperial.

Tollen, he said.

Support their arm as I lift them.

He was careful, his dark face set in serious lines, and he held onto Nu. I kept a sharp eye on him, but, though his vest and kilt were heavily stained with sweat, he seemed to have adapted to the so-called weird physics of Port Imperial. I didn’t notice them myself. He didn’t shuffle his feet and walked steadily. So far I approved of him. Inside, the hallway felt cool compared to the exposed walkway. My sweat-dampened vest came unstuck from my spine, adding to the feeling.

You know where the infirmary is? So what happened? I asked.

Some kind of vermin attacked the cat, Tollen said. I don’t know why the Father has half the doors and windows open.

I didn’t repeat Father’s lectures on governing and architecture and climate. Tollen would hear them soon if he hadn’t already. He’d get it eventually or he’d be sent home. It would be punishment for him, but if it happened to me, reward, if—when—it happened. A mongoose, I said. A native pest.

It chased the cat under the gate to the lioness’s yard, he said.

I stopped in shock, but recovered with a quick shuffle and didn’t stress Dusan’s arm.

The child. Dusan? Climbed over it and fell, trying to save him, he said. I pulled them both out. He wasn’t bragging, just answering my question matter of factly.

That could have been bad.

As if in answer, the lioness Rajkarat roared, and our heads turned like needles on a compass, although we knew we couldn’t see her. I imagined her, as she was when she was led into the city,