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It was obvious that Wuk Lamat was a failure even among the companions she chose. They had all worked together so seamlessly during the boat chase and the unexpected tunnel detour. She had just flailed around with her axe while Bakool Ja Ja baited her into acting like a fool.
And she was trying to be Dawnservant?
The sun had just crossed the horizon. Many Fires took on the glow of the dozens of campfires on the grounds, bathed in the last vestiges of daylight. Above her, the sky mirrored the cliffside meadows in vibrant splashes of pinks and yellows and purples. The beauty of her surroundings turned bittersweet as she realized she had never truly noticed the rainbow of colors that Kozamaku'a was so famous for.
There were so many things she had never noticed because she never cared to learn. A kneading, twisting feeling in her stomach that had nothing to do with the nausea began to make masa out of her guts. It felt the same as when Namikka had caught her pouring salt on the garden slugs as a kitten. Her childhood naivety led to the slow, painful death of dozens of innocent slugs. Her adulthood naivety was going to lead to the suffering of her people and her nation.
Lately, being Dawnservant felt less like a way to make everyone happy and more like a responsibility so big she could never hope to take it on.
Erenville nudged her arm. Wuk Lamat caught the questing glance he sent her way; he always knew when she was beating herself up. She tried to smile but it felt flat on her face.
"If you have time to think, you have time to fold," he said, handing her a corn husk spread with masa and spiced beans.
Wuk Lamat genuinely smiled at that. She must have been lost in thought for a while if the husks had softened and the dough rested. She wrapped the husk into thirds around the masa and folded up the bottom. Alisaie took the tamale out of her hands and finished it off with a thin strip of husk. Next to her sat Alphinaud, who was watching the pot to make sure no tamales fell off the steamer into the water and the water didn't evaporate. On his other side, A'chago picked out corn husks from where they soaked in a shallow dish and passed them to Erenville, who layered the masa and filling.
Again, seamless. At least this time she got to be a part of it.
Once all the suitable husks were used up, Wuk Lamat watched as A'chago helped himself to a portion of the filling right out of the bowl and get whacked upside the head by Alisaie.
"She laughs! And here I was thinking that you would not show signs of life," Erenville said softly.
"It's because you didn't sing the song for my nausea," Wuk Lamat replied.
"I am not singing the song."
"What song?" Alisaie interrupted. "Wait, never mind that. Wuk Lamat, are you feeling better?"
There was only open, honest concern on Alisaie's face, but Wuk Lamat cringed at the memory of her earlier weakness on the boat. Then cringed at her cringing. She was on this quest to become a worthy Dawnservant, wasn't she? So she would have to face this weakness and overcome it, just like any other. She strained for the courage to answer.
"I want to thank you all for agreeing to join me on this quest," Wuk Lamat began. "Especially because I was a stranger to you when I arrived in Sharlayan. But I...I don't know if I will ever be ready to be Dawnservant. You came all this way for nothing."
A great gasping chasm opened in her chest, and to her horror, the burning that accompanied it signaled tears were soon to follow. It was ironic. She towered over everyone in their group, but never in her life had she felt so small.
The silence that descended after she spoke didn't stay for long. Almost immediately, Krile and Alisaie were trying to rally her spirits.
"You don't need to be ready now, that's what the quest is for," Krile reassured her as Alisaie nodded vigorously.
"Knowing your own weakness is the first step to overcoming it," Alisaie added. "You said earlier that you know nothing of your people. Well, aren't we resolving that right now? We're learning, aren't we?"
Their words rang true, but Wuk Lamat found she could not believe them. Koana knew the economic and political stance of every culture in Tuliyollal. Zoraal Ja knew each strength and weakness and martial advantage.
What did she know? How to ride in a parade float and serve maté?
She found herself staring at her feet instead of at her companions. Her boots were still damp from their battle on the river. She gently scuffed them against each other.
"I don't think I will ever be as good as my brothers," she said softly.
"Who cares?" A'chago cut in. Wuk Lamat flinched at the harsh delivery. She looked up to find A'chago's gaze challenging hers.
"Who cares?" he repeated. "You're not trying to become Dawnservant so your brothers can pat you on the back. At least, not from what you told me."
Wuk Lamat's face burned as if A'chago had slapped her. Her muscles tensed up with the desire to storm away, but the tension bled out of her as quickly as it came. "I don't even remember what I told you," she said with a weary sigh.
"I do," Erenville said. He pushed his knee against hers—his version of a hug. Wuk Lamat saw nothing but steady determination in the face of her oldest and dearest friend. She knew him like the back of her hand. She knew implicitly that he meant whatever he was about to say.
"You said that you were going to be Dawnservant because you loved Tural more than anything in the whole world. And you wanted nothing more than to serve its people and protect the peace between them." Erenville recited her words as seriously as she had first said them, that night in the markets under the glowing lanterns.
Wuk Lamat remembered how much she meant every word of it then, even if she had been well into her cups. Her love for Tural was so vast it seemed uncountable, so deep it was incomprehensible. She loved her country. A ferocious sense of pride sparked in her belly and began to fill her chest with new vigor.
"That's right," she said. "My reasons for joining the contest have nothing to do with my brothers."
Everything, everything she ever did and ever would do, was for the nation that raised her when it could have turned its back. Every Turali was her mother and father, her brothers and sisters. They had welcomed her and loved her and nurtured her to the woman she was today. She owed it to them and their future to win the contest.
A different chasm, one that felt as if it were full of light, cracked in her chest. She felt bone-deep acceptance of her situation settle in her soul. She wasn't smart like Koana, or strong like Zoraal Ja. All she had was her willingness to work and live and love alongside her people, and she would use it to be the Dawnservant they deserved.
She hadn't realized she was speaking aloud until Alphinaud raised his cup. "Hear, hear!" he cheered.
Even the flush of embarrassment couldn't dampen the excitement she felt. She shared a grin with her companions; they all mirrored her joy back to her.
A'chago leaned back with his hands behind his head, a satisfied smile on his face. "If love's the only weapon you got, you better wield it to the very end."
"That's surprisingly poignant," Alisaie said.
"Because it's mine," Krile said, miffed. "That's a line I wrote in the cover of a book I gave to Raha. And it's 'you must wield it to the very end'."
A'chago considered her for a moment, then shrugged and flicked his tail. "You might wanna talk to him about that, he's been going around saying it's his."
An affronted gasp from Krile was met with an eruption of giggles from Alisaie. Wuk Lamat couldn't help herself, she laughed too. Her heart felt so much lighter than it had at the beginning of the evening. It was like Namikka always said; the best remedy for melancholy was food and friendship.
Erenville huffed out what could be the ghost of a laugh as A'chago recounted all the other idioms and sayings G'raha had stolen from Krile, at her incredulous request. "I am glad you are feeling better," he said to her without looking away from the scene. Alisaie had joined in and was eagerly adding to the list while Krile clutched her chest in mock-outrage.
"The only thing that could make this night better is if you sang the song," Wuk Lamat teased him. "Come on, sana sana, colita de rana..."
Erenville shot her a look out of the corner of his eye. "No."
Wuk Lamat laughed and leaned her whole body against his, and knew that he was in a good mood because he let her.
This, this rite of succession, these challenges, it would all work out. She would play to her strengths and accept her weaknesses. She'd do it for Tural. The rite had been going on for a few weeks now, but it felt like tomorrow would be the first day. The evening breeze played with the feathers in her hair as she inhaled the sweet scent of the wildflowers. The stars glittered like a thousand tiny promises for a better future overhead.