The Heart of Betrayal (The Remnant Chronicles #2) - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,23

hundreds of miles south of us and the current calms. But there are creatures in those waters that few will risk encountering, even on a raft.” He rolled over and looked at me, lifting up on one arm. “Only the bridge, Lia.”

A bridge that required at least a hundred men to raise and lower.

Our gazes were fixed, and the unstated question—how do I get out of here?—hovered between us. I finally moved on, asking more about the bridge’s construction. It seemed a carefully wrought wonder, considering the hapless construction of the rest of the city.

He said the new bridge was finished two years ago. Before that there had only been a small and dangerous footbridge. Resources were limited in Venda, but the one thing they didn’t lack was rock, and within rock were metals. They had learned ways of mixing them that made the metal stronger and impervious to the constant mist of the river.

It was no small task, extracting metals from rock, and I was surprised that they seemed to be accomplished at it. I had noticed the strange glint in the bracelets that Calantha wore, like nothing I had ever seen before—a beautiful blue-black metal that shone bright against her pale wrists. The circles of metal jingled down her arms when she lifted the platter of bones, like bells ringing in the Sacrista in Terravin. Listen. The gods draw near. For a people who discounted the blessings of the gods, the hush that had fallen when Calantha spoke had been startlingly devout.

“Kaden,” I whispered, “when we were at dinner, and Calantha gave the blessing—you said it was an acknowledgment of sacrifice. What were the words? I understood a few, but some were new to me.”

“You understand more than I thought you did. You surprised everyone when you spoke tonight.”

“It shouldn’t have been a surprise after my tirade this morning.”

He grinned. “Speaking the choice words of Vendan is not the same thing as commanding the language.”

“But there are still words that are foreign to me. None of you ever said that blessing over a meal in all our way across the Cam Lanteux.”

“We’ve grown accustomed to living many different lives. Some of our ways we have to leave behind once we pass the borders of Venda.”

“Tell me Calantha’s prayer.”

He sat up and faced me. The glow of the candle lit one side of his face. “E cristav unter quiannad,” he said reverently. “A sacrifice ever remembered. Meunter ijotande. Never forgotten. Yaveen hal an ziadre. Another day we live.”

The words bored into me and all the ways I had misinterpreted the wearing of the bones.

“Food can be scarce in Venda,” he explained. “Especially in winter. The bones are a symbol of gratitude and a reminder that we live only by the sacrifice of even the smallest animal and by the combined sacrifices of many.”

Meunter ijotande. I was shamed at the beauty of every syllable of what I had once called barbarian grunts. It was a strange emotion to feel side by side with the bitterness of my captivity.

There were so many times I had looked at Kaden back in Terravin and wondered what storm was passing through his eyes. I knew what at least part of that storm was now.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“For what?”

“For not understanding.”

“Until you’ve lived here, how could you know? Venda is a different world.”

“There was one more word. Everyone said it together at the end. Paviamma.”

His expression changed, his eyes searching mine and warmth lighting them. “It means—” He shook his head. “There’s no direct translation in Morrighese for paviamma. It’s a word of tenderness and has many meanings, depending on how it’s used. Even the tone in which it’s said can change its meaning. Pavia, paviamas, paviamad, paviamande. Friendship, thankfulness, care, mercy, forgiveness, love.”

“It’s a beautiful word,” I whispered.

“Yes,” he agreed. I watched his chest rise in a deep breath. He hesitated, as if he wanted to say more, but then he lay back down and looked up at the rafters. “We should get some sleep. The Komizar expects to see us early in the morning. Was there anything else you wanted to know?”

The Komizar expects. The warmth that had filled the room was swept away with a single sentence, and I pulled the quilt closer. “No,” I whispered.

He reached out and snuffed the candle with his fingers.

But there was still a question stabbing me that I was afraid to ask. Would the Komizar really send Rafe home piece by piece? Deep down, I knew