The Nalendar
by Ann Leckie
Down at the riverfront at Kalub, the little gods congregated in clouds, flies and dragonflies and even small birds approaching would–be travelers. They scattered out of the way of wagons and carts, circled over the flagstoned road and then re–formed. Umri walked through them, careful not to jostle or hit. The citizens of Kalub paid deference to a host of more powerful gods, including the river itself, but it was wise to be wary of even these tiny things.
A small bird lit on her shoulder. “Take me with you, I’ll see you safely to your destination!” it chirped.
“No thank you,” said Umri, “I’m seeing someone off.” The tiny brown bird cocked its head, eyeing the bag in her hand, but flew off without saying more.
She found a vantage out of the stream of traffic, in the shadow of a wall, and scanned the docks, her eyes shaded against the glare of the sun on the waters of the broad Nalendar. Women in bright, draped dresses, scarves tied around their hair, sailors in short kilts and very little else… there!
Rilhat Imk, round–faced, dark–haired, somewhat pale—his mother had been a slave from somewhere north, rumor said—in a brilliant red and blue coat she had seen him wear before. He was on the deck of a boat just now casting off, standing self-importantly at the rail. Umri watched as it moved out into the channel and started downstream.
“Now, for a boat going upstream,” she said, more to herself than for anyone else to hear.
“You’re from the Silver Isles,” piped a tiny voice. Startled and apprehensive, she looked around, expecting to see one of the birds or flying insects.
“Down here!” the voice said, and she looked down at her feet, and then crouched, her dull green dress puddling behind and beside her on the gray stone. On the top of her foot was a tiny, black lizard, hardly as big as her thumb, and that only including its long, bright blue tail.
“Excuse me,” she said. “I didn’t see you at first. I’m sorry, but I’m not looking for protection, or a guide.”
“You are from the Silver Isles, I can tell by your accent.”
“I am. And I need to be on my way, good day to you.” She gently lifted the lizard onto her finger, and moved her hand aside to let it step into the road.
It stood firm. “Why are you going upstream? Your home is in the south.”
Umri searched her memory for advice on being rid of a persistent god. She found none. “I like to travel.”
“I suppose otherwise you’d never have come so far from home,” piped the tiny lizard. “Take me with you! The captain won’t charge for me.”
“I’m sorry, god whose name I don’t know, but I don’t make long–term deals.”
“After long and sorry experience I don’t make them either. No agreements, no promises. Take me with you on the boat.” Umri tipped her hand slightly, but the lizard tightened its grip.“I want to go upstream. If I were a great, powerful god it would be a simple matter, I would merely will myself there. But I am as you see me, and no one will sacrifice to me and make me stronger. So I’ll make a small, short–term deal with you. Take me with you, and I’ll choose the best boat going upstream.”
“That would be the fastest, and the soonest departing,” she said, and then was struck by an unsettling thought. Her only real fear of Imk was that she would be forced to injure him, and face prosecution in a city where she had no family—and he might impress a judge as nothing more than an overly persistent suitor driven to desperate means by love. No, it was better to leave town for a while and avoid the problem altogether. But if he had set a spy on her, she might be in real danger. “Has someone sent you to me? Or spoken at all to you concerning me?”
“No!”
“You are not currently under any obligations to anyone else?”
“None whatever.” Its blue tail twitched.
The answers seemed straightforward. And gods didn’t lie, not without serious consequences. But they could mislead, and obfuscate. “Do you have any association with the slave broker Rilhat Imk?”
“What sort of question is that?” squeaked the lizard. The tiny tail whipped from left to right. “Any association! Surely I’ve spoken to someone who’s heard of someone else who knows this person.”
“You’re not working for Rilhat Imk, or working for someone who’s working for him?”
“I am not working for anyone. And I will not be working for you. I merely wish to board a boat going upstream without being crushed on my way across the dock. Take me with you, and I will be sure we’re on the fastest and soonest departing boat going upstream. No further obligations. Although,” said the lizard, “a very small prayer wouldn’t hurt.”
Umri laughed in spite of herself. “A small prayer I can do. What shall I call you?”
“For now, ‘Little Skink’ will do. And you?”
She took a deep breath. “Nalemeindundawyumrisayedynaremend.”
“What, that’s all?”
“Well, no. That’s just the first part. And I’m usually just called Umri.”
“It seemed short, for the Silver Isles. How I admire such names! So informative. Is it true your names include the phase of the moon when you were born?”
“Yes,” said Umri.“And where I was born, and who my mother and father were. And their parents. And a few other things.”
“I will call you Umri, to save us both time. Speaking of which…”
Smiling, Umri made a small prayer to Little Skink. “Ah, thank you,” said the skink. “What a lovely flavor that had, very pleasing. And now, fortified as I am, I can tell you that the Reasonable Expectations is the vessel for us.”
“Which you had ascertained before you even spoke to me,” Umri said, her initial apprehension returning.
“I have kept my word!” the skink insisted.
“You have. I am merely being cautious.”
“Wise girl! And now, for the Reasonable Expectations.”
Fast was a relative term, going upstream. Rowers strained against the current of the wide and muddy Nalendar, and sometimes, where the water ran very fast, the boat moved forward by means of crewmen pulling ropes tied to trees on shore and progress was mere feet a day. Still, the sun was bright, the breeze pleasant, the banks lush and green, and the sky a crystalline blue. Other passengers sat mostly in the shade to one side of a cabin wall, now and then complaining desultorily of the heat.
“It might have been faster to walk,” Umri said. She stood at the stern, leaning on the rail, a fishing pole in her hand, her eye on the line that stretched out behind the boat. The captain, a tall, weather–beaten man, had lent it to her.
“Why didn’t you?” asked Little Skink. It was perched behind her ear underneath her headscarf, and tickled when it twitched.
“A woman alone on the road? I’d have had to hire guards, or make a deal with a god for protection.” She had made the customary offering to the Nalendar, of course, but no traveler on the river neglected that, and it wasn’t a matter of contracts. “No offense, but…”
“None taken. You’re quite right.”
They were both silent a while, no sound but the water and the rhythmic chant of the crewmen as they pulled the boat against the current. “Could you help me with the fishing?” Umri ventured. “One time, no obligations. Just… interest a fish.” The skink didn’t answer, and she wondered what lay behind its silence. “I’d trade a prayer… no, two prayers.” No answer. Gods, especially little gods, were greedy for prayers. “Why not?”
“Unfortunately, this stretch of the river is not well–disposed towards me,” said Little Skink.
“Which stretch?”
“Oh, well.” Umri’s ear itched as the skink flexed its feet. “The whole thing, actually.”