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Chapter Twelve

From a distance, Balagada had looked crowded. It was even more apparent as Tanden wandered along the narrow streets, Soren trailing behind because they often couldn't comfortably walk side by side.

The paths zig-zagged between the buildings and in some cases over them. Once, Tanden climbed a staircase and noticed that the path was now crossing the roof of the building they had just walked past. And staircases were everywhere. Tanden took them slowly and cautiously, grateful that his foot was feeling better and unwilling to set back his healing.

Tanden tried to soak in any information he could. Bits of conversation gave him a feel for daily life in Balagada. Tiny details in the way houses were built helped him guess at the order they had been built in. He thought the city had started at the water and worked its way up the hill throughout the years.

Most people quietly watched as they passed by. Tanden didn't mind the stares. He was used to being watched whenever they explored cities where Teltans weren't common. His light skin and blond hair, combined with being fairly tall and wearing different clothes, made him an interesting oddity for local people. Soren may have been even more fascinating, with his tattooed arms. Tanden heard more than a few whispers, but didn't engage anybody in conversation. He noticed pretty quickly that the people's Alvarian wasn't quite the same as Elorie's, and he wanted to get a feel for the differences before trying to communicate.

It made sense that the city was so packed. It already took up nearly all the land on the river island, and there was nowhere to expand. The dead city—Balagaya, Tanden reminded himself—certainly couldn't be relocated or built around.

He was quite surprised when the narrow path he had been following opened into a wider yard. The grassy yard must have had a purpose, otherwise Tanden guessed it could have held at least two of the little buildings. At that moment, it was being used by about a dozen children, who were playing a game.

Tanden watched curiously, as one of the children rolled a woody ball towards a row of what appeared to be tall woven baskets. The ball knocked over three of the baskets, and the child threw his fists up in the air triumphantly.

"What are they doing?" Soren was finally able to step up beside Tanden, and take in the scene.

Tanden shrugged. "I have no idea, but I want to try." He crossed over to the kids, who all stared at him curiously as he approached. He crouched in front of the one currently holding the ball, and in careful Alvarian, asked, "What are you playing?"

The boy blinked at him, but didn't say a word. Tanden was about to try phrasing his question differently when one of the other boys, maybe a little older, piped up.

"You have to knock down the baskets." He pointed at a line, roughly dragged through the dirt. "Stand there, and roll the coconut." The boy pointed at himself with his thumb. "I'm the best. I have eight points already!"

"That's very impressive," Tanden said. "Do you think my friend and I could try? We're visiting, and we'd like to learn about your home."

The boy looked around at his friends, and spoke quickly. Tanden understood that he was asking what they thought of the strange men joining their game, but the boy's language was so filled with regional slang that it was hard for Tanden to understand every word.

After a brief, quick conversation, the boy turned back to Tanden and spoke more seriously and clearly. "You can play. But you won't get eight points."

Tanden smiled. "No, probably not," he agreed. "How many turns do we get?"

"Four rolls," the boy said. He waved at the younger boy. "Give him the coconut."

The younger boy did. "Thank you," Tanden said, accepting the strange ball and standing up. It was a shell of some sort, with a wooden texture. He stepped up to the line the boy had indicated, and rolled the ball toward the baskets. The ground wasn't perfectly flat, and the ball wasn't perfectly round. It rolled off to the left side, missing the baskets entirely.

The talkative boy ran to collect the coconut and brought it back to Tanden. "Try again. Roll two."

Tanden rolled the ball a second time. This time the ball rolled off to the right as he accidentally overcorrected.

The boy ran after the ball again, laughing. When he brought it back, a triumphant grin was plastered across his face. "Roll three."

Again, Tanden tried to roll the coconut across the bumpy ground. He was slightly luckier that time, clipping one of the baskets and tipping it over. The audience of children cheered for him.

"One point!" the boy announced as he went to collect the ball. "Last roll," he said, handing over the coconut a third time.

Tanden's last roll was his most successful. Having finally figured out how the coconut would move, he managed to knock over two baskets. The children clapped again, and the boy grabbed the ball. "Three points!" he announced. "Pretty good for your first time playing. Is your friend going to try?"

Tanden looked over at Soren and switched to Teltish. "Think you can beat three points, mate? My little friend here says he's the best, and he has eight points."

"He's definitely better than you," Soren laughed. He accepted the coconut, planted both feet at the line, and rolled it.

Tanden was sure the ball was going to miss, but then it rolled between two baskets, nudging them both. One of them wobbled into the basket beside it, and all three fell.

The children erupted into cheers. One of them ran to grab the coconut, then tossed it to the boy, who handed it back to Soren.

Soren's next two turns missed, but with his final roll he managed to knock down one basket, giving him the grand total of four. Afterwards they hung around for a bit, watching a few of the children take their turns. The boy kept up a happy chatter the entire time, sometimes talking about the game, or telling Tanden stories about the other kids. Tanden didn't learn much about the city in general, but it was fun talking to the boy.

"And then my brother tripped me and I fell off of the roof." After telling stories about all the other kids, the boy had launched into a story about himself. "And I got this scar." He pointed at a shiny line on his shin. "But I didn't cry at all, even though it hurt a lot. And my dad was so mad at my brother and—" He cut himself off suddenly.

Tanden followed his gaze to see Elorie standing at the edge of the yard. Even among other Alvarians she stood out. She was so beautiful, her clothing vibrant and colourful. It was clear with just a quick glance that she didn't come from Balagada.

She crossed the yard. "I didn't expect to find you playing pata," she said in Teltish.

"Oh, is that what it's called? I forgot to ask," Tanden said. "Is it a common game in Alvara?"

Elorie nodded. "Very common. Try playing it on the ship sometime." Her hair swept over her shoulder as she glanced back the way she had come. "I found out about Balagaya. You can visit part of it, tomorrow when the sun is at its peak. A woman... priestess, is the best Teltish word. A priestess will meet you at the bridge. She'll show you around and answer questions, if they aren't offensive. I told her you're harmless and curious. Oh, and you must wear only blue."

"That's convenient," Soren said.

"We can do that," Tanden said, nodding. "Thank you. What's her name?"

"Amna-Laxi."

"Laxi meaning religious leader?" Tanden guessed.

Elorie thought, then nodded. "More or less. The Laxi muxil doesn't work quite like the others do. People aren't born with it, they choose it. And those women never have children, so they can't pass on the muxil the same way."

"That's fascinating," Tanden said. Suddenly, he realized something else he hadn't thought to ask the boy, and he switched back to Alvarian. "My name is Tanden. These are my friends Soren, and Elorie-Eko. What's your name?"

"Jacey-Dell," he replied proudly.

"Storytellers and historians," Elorie said in Teltish, before Tanden could ask. "Those who remember. His mother is probably the city's recordkeeper." In Alvarian, she added, "That is a very strong muxil, Jacey."

Jacey beamed at her. "Thank you!"

In Teltish again, Elorie said, "Are you two ready to go back to the ship?"

"I suppose we should," Tanden agreed. He got to his feet and switched to Alvarian. "Thank you for teaching us pata, Jacey. I'll have to practice a lot to get as good as you."

"We will play the next time you visit," Jacey said.

Tanden laughed. "Yes, of course. Goodbye for now. Goodbye!" he called to rest of the children.

The children's chorus of goodbyes followed them as they left the yard.

***

At midmorning the next day, Tanden rummaged through all of his clothes, finding blue items for both he and Soren to wear. It wasn't difficult. Blue was the colour of the Tandrans, and so it was the colour he tended to own and wear. Even in other countries, when buying local clothing, he leaned towards blue whenever it was an option.

The outfit he finally settled on consisted of dark blue pants and a royal blue tunic. He considered both his cloak and leather nautical jacket, but ultimately decided that either option would be too warm.

Soren didn't own as much blue. A handful of his tunics were blue, but none of his pants. Since Elorie had said "wear only blue", they didn't want to risk him wearing one of his usual pairs of black or brown pants. Soren tried on a pair of Tanden's, which fit well enough, if a little short around his ankles. It would have to do.

Closer to noon, they let Ivern know they were heading out into the city, and left. Elorie wasn't interested in coming, and she hadn't asked permission for more than two guests, anyway.

They made their way through the winding, narrow streets and staircases. They didn't have directions, but getting to the other side of the city was the obvious first step. Once at the city's highest point, they could see all the bridges. Amna-Laxi was easy to spot, dressed in a flowing blue outfit.

Amna noticed them long before they reached her. When they arrived at her side, Tanden wanted to say something polite and grateful, instead, his gaze went past her to the bridge and he blurted out— "It's grown!"

Amna blinked. She was a surprisingly young woman, probably just past twenty and her muxil-choosing ceremony. Tanden collected his thoughts enough to wonder if her age was why she was willing to show them around. "It's grown?" she repeated.

"I'm sorry. The bridge. I just assumed it was built across the river, but..." Tanden looked at the bridge again. It was made of wood, but it hadn't been constructed. Instead, roots from nearby trees had been braided and bound together, stretching across the river to meet with roots from the other side. The roots were huge and old, growing thick and strong in their woven tangle. Rocks and soil had been placed along the roots, creating a flat surface to walk along. Other roots and branches had been given similar treatment to create railings on either side of the bridge.

"Yes," Amna said. Her voice had a serene, lilting quality and a slightly different dialect than what he had heard in the city. Tanden guessed she was from somewhere else, maybe further up the Danil River. "It is a living bridge. You have never seen one?"

Tanden shook his head. "No. Sorry, I should introduce myself."

Amna smiled. "You are the captain, the one who speaks Alvarian like a sailor. Tanden. He is Soren, and he doesn't understand us."

"No, but I'll translate for him," Tanden said. "I speak it like a sailor? Is my accent bad?"

"It is fine, just different. You wish to learn about Balagaya," Amna said. "Foreign visitors usually only care about trading, not learning."

"I'm interested in both. But only because trading pays for my ship and my crew, so that I can explore and learn."

Amna looked at him for a moment without saying anything. It felt like she was looking into him, trying to understand him. Tanden wasn't sure what to do, other than to stand still. She turned to Soren next, giving him the same scrutinizing gaze.

"I've seen men like him before," Amna said, after a long moment.

"That's not too surprising. Soren's Crelan," Tanden said. "They're well known to be spectacular sailors."

Amna accepted that explanation with a nod. "It is good that you are wearing blue." With a ruffle of her cloak, she held out a bundle of blue cloth. "Put these on. You must be covered, to not offend the spirits."

Tanden accepted the bundle. It came apart as two long, rectangular scarfs. He handed one to Soren, then watched as Amna pulled part of her own scarf up over her head. He copied her, wrapping the scarf around his shoulder and covering his head. Beside him, Soren did the same.

Amna treated them both with a serene smile, then turned and began to cross the bridge. She ran her hand along the root-handrail, not quite touching it, but seeming to steady herself with it anyway.

Tanden glanced at Soren. "Speak up if I forget to translate."

Soren shook his head. "If you forget, that means you're learning something interesting. I can wait to hear about it."

Tanden took his hand and squeezed his fingers quickly. Not nearly as romantic as a quick kiss, but the meaning was the same. Then, tentatively, he stepped out onto the living bridge. Only to find that it wasn't nearly as worrying as he had feared. The bridge felt sturdier than the Wanderlust's yards. And even though the river beneath them raged with rapids, it seemed less dangerous than a fall onto the hard wooden deck from high in the rigging.

It wasn't until he noticed Amna patiently waiting at the other end that he realized he was crossing slowly. Not from fear, but awe. It was hard to look away from the expertly tangled roots and branches. Quick glances both up and down river confirmed that the other bridges were similarly grown, although not nearly as big.

Reaching the other side, Tanden immediately asked his first question. "Why is this bridge bigger than the others?"

"Spirits don't need wide bridges," Amna replied easily. "They simply need the bridge as a guide. Come." She turned, waving a hand at them to follow and carried on down a dirt path. "Keep quiet. When it is appropriate to talk, I will, and then you can ask me all your questions."

Tanden nodded, and quickly translated the instructions for Soren. Then, all hope of him remembering to translate anything fled from his mind. In front of them was Balagada, but smaller. A perfect, meticulous recreation of the living city. It sat on a boulder shaped vaguely like the river island, in the middle of a courtyard surrounded by squared off pillars. A complex of small buildings opened onto three sides of the courtyard.

Other women dressed in blue robes were moving about the complex. A pair leaned over the miniature city, carefully dusting it with bundles of feathers. A small group walked into the largest of the buildings, directly across from the entrance. Others carried things, others just walked quietly with their heads bowed. None of them spoke, although some did look up at their visitors curiously.

Amna waved at Tanden and Soren again, and the three of them crossed the courtyard, heading for a path on the left. The path was wide and smooth, probably tamped down by hundreds of feet over the years. At the end, they were met with what looked like another replica city, although maybe a third or fourth the size of the real one.

"This is Balagaya," Amna said.

When it seemed that was all she was going to say, Tanden clarified. "The dead city?"

Amna nodded. "Everyone who passes in Balagada is carried here, and laid in their home."

It made sense suddenly. The houses weren't big enough to live in, but they were big enough to lie dead in. The dead city was sort of like a mausoleum, with small buildings instead of dark rooms. It was beautiful, in a way.

He turned to Soren. "They're graves," he said quickly in Teltish, and then in Alvarian again, "Are the spirits here?"

Amna shook her head. "The spirits are in Balagana. The spirit city. We may not visit there."

"We can't?" Tanden asked. "Or nobody can?"

"Only the eldest caretakers may enter Balagana," Amna said. "And so none of us may visit. Visitors are welcome in Balagaya. Families often come to pay respects and care for their family's home."

"But the spirits aren't here," Tanden said, puzzled.

"Usually, no. They visit four times a year, on the holy days. The homes are decorated with flowers and candles to welcome the spirits. And if they find their home is welcoming enough, they may cross the bridges into Balagada, to watch their families."

"What happens to homes that aren't decorated?" Tanden asked. "Where do the spirits go?"

"Every home is decorated. We are caretakers," Amna pointed out. "If there is no one who wishes to greet a specific spirit, we do it. The spirits we welcome often visit the temple, blessing us instead of watching over living relatives."

Tanden took a moment to explain everything to Soren. Then another question came to him. "Are there ever spirits you don't want to welcome back? Maybe criminals?"

Amna bobbed her head in a sort of half-shrug, half head shake. "No, because those people aren't resting in Balagaya, so their spirits cannot go to Balagana. Do you want to visit the temple?"

"Yes, please."

As they walked up the path towards the courtyard, Tanden whispered the last discovery to Soren.

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