But Fikiri had arranged it. John started to say as much but then stopped himself.
"You want me to forgive Fikiri?" John asked.
"I doubt either of you will ever forgive each other," Ji replied. "But I need you both to put the past behind you. The Fai’daum can’t accommodate either of your vendettas. Do you understand me?"
"I do." John knew winning this war mattered far more than finding redress for his personal losses. He understood that, but he wondered if Fikiri did as well.
"Don’t worry. I’m not going to try to kill Fikiri," John said. "I just don’t trust him."
"I wouldn’t expect you to."
"Do you trust him?" John asked.
Ji lapsed into silence. Her ears flicked as though her thoughts were annoying insects. John relaxed against the door. His throat felt dry. Absently, he stroked Ji’s shoulder.
She glanced up at him. John removed his hand immediately.
"I’m sorry. I didn’t mean – "
"It’s all right, Jahn." Ji shrugged. "You have a kind touch and my back itches."
John scratched Ji’s back.
Ji stretched into his efforts. Then she said, "When Umbhra’ibaye falls, Fikiri will be there. I have seen him and I have seen Ravishan." Her eyes narrowed as if she were trying to focus on something far out of sight. "But I have seen many things. The future turns and changes like a cloud caught in the wind. It could move in many directions. But there are always ruins. And no matter what, I always see Ravishan and Fikiri in those ruins."
"But what does that mean?"
"If I knew that, I would have won this war already," Ji replied.
"So we march south and hope for the best?"
"You do not go south," Ji said. "It is too dangerous for you to go to the south."
"Why?" John asked.
"Because of what you are," Ji said. "The Great Gate is at Umbhra’ibaye and it knows you. It was created to awaken to your blood. If that happens, all of Basawar could be lost."
"But I won’t open the Great Gate," John said.
"You may not mean to, but it would respond to you. It has been fed with the blood of nothing but Rifters. It is nearly a living thing now and it has already awoken to your presence once before."
John recalled the slabs of broken yellow stones littering the forest. "You mean when I crossed from Nayeshi?"
"Yes, even broken, it opened for you," Ji replied. "If you wanted it to open for you now, it would. And I think that you could not keep yourself from wanting it to open."
"Of course not," John said. "I want to go home. After this is all over I’m going to take Laurie and Ravishan home with me."
Ji stiffened beneath his hand.
"If you do, you may well kill those of us who remain here."
"What? No!" John objected.
"You must have felt how weak this world is, Jahn. Haven’t you wondered why?" Ji asked. But when John was silent, she went on, "When the Great Gate opens, life bleeds from this world. Basawar trembles on the brink of destruction every time the Great Gate is used. That was the cause of the war between the Eastern Kingdom and the Payshmura. Our queens wanted the Great Gate destroyed."
"But the Great Gate has been opened before. Ten times. Basawar is still…fine." But John knew that wasn’t true. He’d felt the starved sickness of the land. He knew from records that the air had grown thin. The soil no longer produced the quantities of food it once had. Each time the land recovered, but not for centuries, and it had never returned to its natural fertility.
"What if I didn’t leave right away? What if I waited five or even ten years?"
"In a hundred years it would still be too soon," Ji said.
"If I only opened them for an instant…" John suggested.
"It is not worth the risk." Ji shook her head. "I wish I could show you what I have seen, Jahn. First there will be the killing wind, a suffocating storm that chokes every living thing it touches. Entire cities will die in a night. The sea will be thick with the stench of rotting creatures. Then the lands will waste. First orchards and fields will wither away, then even the wild grasses and weeds. If something survives, I do not see it."
She was describing a world in the last throes of hypoxia and drained of nitrogen. John knew that at once, but he didn’t want to believe it. "But you’re not sure it will happen. You said that the visions change."
"My visions do change," Ji replied, "but only because the actions that cause them change. If the Great Gate continues to be used, then it will destroy Basawar. For the sake of this world the Great Gate must be broken before it can be opened again."
John bowed his head down against his knees. He squeezed his eyes shut.
He wanted to go home.
The promise of returning had kept him going. It had fueled his every decision since he had arrived here. He had been able to endure beatings and humiliation because he had known that someday, somehow, all of this would be over and he would arrive back at home.
When he got home, he’d eat tacos so spicy that his eyes would water. He’d watch television and drink cheap beer. He’d speak English loudly. He’d do things he’d never done before. He’d take Ravishan dancing and they would stay out all night.
He would take Laurie home. He’d put flowers on Bill’s memorial. He would forget about Basawar, about burning bodies, about the Rifter.
Tears welled in John’s eyes. He had to fight to keep from crying. How could he be so petty and pathetic? Countless lives were at stake. An entire world stood to be lost. And all he could think of was how much he wanted to go home.
Ji nuzzled his leg with her cold nose. John stroked her head and shoulders as if she were a real dog. He took a deep breath and concentrated on the calm perfection of the stone surrounding him. If he wanted to, he could go. He was the Rifter and not even Ji could stop him. The Great Gate would awaken to him. He could go home.
Sheltered beneath the vaults of stone, John could feel the hundreds of men and women living in the Warren. Little black goats scampered across the stone streets. Shepherd boys chased them. He didn’t know most of these people, and yet he felt them, as he felt the earth and air around him. How many of them would he sacrifice for his own happiness? Two? Ten? A hundred? A thousand?
An entire world?
No, he had happiness. He had it here, with Ravishan. He didn’t have Mexican food or television or even a flushing toilet, but he still had happiness.
John wiped his eyes. "So, I won’t go south. What should I do then?"
"We will need you to keep the ushiri’im occupied in the north," Ji said quietly. "We don’t want them to guess that we are mobilizing in the south."
John nodded.
Ji considered him with a sympathetic animal gaze. John stroked her head. He felt childish doing it, knowing that she was nothing like the dog he’d owned as a boy; still he petted her and took comfort in the distant memory.
"It does no good to pine for a place you cannot return to," Ji told him quietly. "Let it go and look to the life you have here and now. That is all any of us can do."
•
It wasn’t until late that evening that John actually noticed just how much of Nayeshi he’d already abandoned. He had been doing it unconsciously for years: allowing Basawar words to replace English, forgetting names and places, becoming accustomed to tattooed fingers, carved bones, and a man who stepped out of the empty air into his arms. His memories of the life he’d lived seemed distant now and nearly as unreal as a dream.
That knowledge troubled John but not as much as he would have expected. Still Ravishan noticed the difference.
"You seemed distracted today," Ravishan commented as they lay close in their bed. Only one lamp remained uncovered; it cast a faint green illumination along the sharp line of Ravishan’s jaw and bare shoulders.
"I’ve just been thinking about things…" John replied and Ravishan gave a soft laugh.
"Yes, I gathered that much. Care to tell me what you’ve been thinking about?"