Chapter 14: There's No Place Like Home
Nabooru's mouth turned dry just watching her companions. Not because of the sun, high in the sky, its heat bearing down upon them. That was home, she'd grown used to the struggles of living in the Gerudo Desert. She hardly noticed the way rough sand and slicked clothes clung to her. Survival required meticulous planning, wary eyes, and the viciousness to keep moving just to spite that blazing sun.
But most of all it required water.
"Check it again," Nabooru ordered Bethmasse as the big woman overturned the empty bucket.
"Nabs, I've checked three times. The well is dry." The big woman said as she wiped the sweat from her forehead. "What do we do?"
Another empty well, how many did the Gerudo have left? And more important for the present, which could they reach before that sun claimed them?
"We don't have enough water to make it to the Oasis," Makeela said.
"I am well aware," Nabooru hissed. To reach the closest of the Gerudo's hidden wells required several days hard ride. Ganondorf's honor guard of twenty vai and all their horses could make perhaps half that distance with their current supply.
"We need to go back then," Mulli said. "We'll be delayed, but perhaps-"
"We're closer to the Oasis than we are to the border," Desqueza pointed out. "Mulli if we go back we're even more likely to die."
"Oh," the young warrior said. "I just thought. Oh."
Bethmasse lowered the bucket one more time, while the vai argued about their best course of action. Nabooru couldn't help but watch her pull it back up. Hoping to all the ancestors, to the Three, to anyone who listened, that it would rise filled to the brim, with so much water some of it spilled out from the uneven swinging of the rope.
But no divinity felt like answering her hopes. When Bethe heaved the bucket up, only dirt and pebbles rattled within. Without another word, the big vai untied the bucket from the rope and brought them both back to her horse.
"Nabs," Mulli whispered. "What do we do?"
"We need to make it to the well at Palu. That is our only option."
"We won't make it there either," Desqueza said. "Not all of us anyway. Not with the water we have."
Bethe returned from her horse and started to lay down the planks and stones the Gerudo used to cover their wells and keep them hidden from Hylians or the occasional scavenging lizalfos.
"What are you doing that for?" Jocquine said. "The well's dry."
"It is for now," Bethe said. "But perhaps in a few months, if we get some rain."
"When was the last time you've heard of a dry well getting full again?"
Bethmasse shrugged. "Doesn't mean it can't happen."
As she worked covering the well, the others all looked to Nabooru, expecting some decision. Every breath wasted here meant one breath shorter that they'd need on the path to Palu.
What would Gan do?
He'd be ruthless, he'd sacrifice everything he needed just to win. No matter how it hurt.
She pulled out her sword, the other vai stepped away from her, confused expressions etched on their faces.
She'd fought with this sword over many years of war. One of the finest pieces of steel to ever come from the desert. Not magical, she couldn't call it to her hand like Ganondorf did with that monstrous black greatsword he wielded. But when she returned from her first raid, her mother presented it to her. She'd spent every rupee she had just to show Nabs her pride. Nabooru kept it at her side every day since.
The blade tumbled to the ground, kicking up sand as it landed. Then three of her four daggers followed. Each clanging against each other or thumping to the ground. Now all her companions stared at her, even Bethe stopped her work.
"We drop everything we don't need. We're traveling as light as we can."
None of them so much as grumbled, and some of her sisters held closer attachments to their equipment than she. She'd heard Bethe brag about her massive-headed spear more times than Nabs could count. Passed down mother to daughter for eight generations. How many fires had passed with the big woman pointing at one of the symbols etched into the blade and recounted a story about some great battle between a renowned knight and her great-great grandmother, or when another of her ancestors slew two lizalfos in a single thrust. She'd heard the tales so many times, Nabs could recite them from memory. In truth, some nights she wished never to hear Bethe's stories again.
But she almost choked up when the stone-faced woman took the spear over her knee and broke it to pieces and plunging the spearhead deep into the sand. "So no one could steal my family's legacy," she said when Mulli questioned her about it.
And Jocqueline took off the small silver pendant that Saevus had given her, kissed it once, then dropped into the growing pile of equipment.
Each of them had something they loved. Some part of their history or their home. Reminders of lovers lost, or their ancestors' blessings. Things they'd never see again.
Nabooru sighed as she looked down at the pile. Now to get to the hard part. She cleared her throat to get everyone's attention. "Put all the food and water we have on Bethe's, Caeiti's, and Makeela's horses and half the tents. Release the rest."
That got a few groans, and a couple curses. Every one of these vai had ridden half a dozen horses to their deaths in battle. All of them knew to avoid getting attached to the creatures, to harden their hearts and think of them as little more than another weapon. But no one ever truly followed that wise advice. Their mounts fought with them in the worst battles of their lives, they bore their wary bodies, led them to glorious victory and carried them to safety when injured. They all loved their horses, and their hearts broke to release them to die in the desert alone.
But that was life in the desert. The horses made travel faster, but not near fast enough to make up for all the water they drank along the way.
Nabs' own horse was a great chestnut colored steed she had named Mouse, because of the odd shape of his ears. It had been a gift from Gan after she healed from the wound, she took on Satori Pass. Gan always had a way with horses. Storm remained the best horse she had ever seen, and Mouse was not far behind.
She wanted to make him one of the exceptions, he was strong enough. As strong as Caeiti's horse at least. But how would it look to demand everyone else sacrifice their mounts while she did not do the same? A good leader puts the burdens on themselves, not those beneath them.
She took the light canvas of the tent she had tied to Mouse's saddle and draped it over Makeela's horse along with a few others. That done, she returned to her horse and quickly looked for anything that might be valuable for their survival. Most she discarded or didn't bother taking from the saddle. In the end all she took was her waterskin and some dried riding pork she had taken to munch on.
Then she took her shield, covered in a leather casing to keep the gleaming mirrored surface hidden from the sun. It took her so long to find this shield, could she truly discard it? She'd need it, she knew. Whatever happened with Gan's plan, success or failure, the day would come when she faced the witches.
No, the shield stayed with her.
"That the best idea?" Dessi asked, as Nabs slung the shield over her shoulder. "It'll slow you down."
"You want me to carry it, Nabs?" Bethe asked.
"I can handle my own kit."
They gathered the horses together, and after checking twice that they had all they needed and could carry, they drove the animals off. Chasing them, waving their arms, and shouting, smacking them when needed. Getting the horses to start running away. It was always easier that way, battering the loyal warhorses as a unit. She did not know if she could drive Mouse out alone, but you always found the strength to bear hardships when done with those you love.
"See if you can get them running that way," Nabooru pointed roughly south-west. Her vai dutifully obeyed, though some gave her confused looks.
"Isn't the Palu Well that way?" Mulli asked once the horses started to run.
"Yes."
"Then why make them run ahead of us? I don't want to see Fleethoof and have to run her off again."
Nabooru sighed, one needed to be heartless as the whipping sands in the desert, and take every advantage offered. "Because if we have any luck at all, over the next day or two we'll come across either a dead horse or the buzzards picking at it. Either way, that's a free meal."
Mulli scrunched her face in distaste but nodded.
"We need to get moving sisters," Nabs called over her shoulder as she started marching across the desert. "It's a long walk ahead of us."
Without their horses it took five and a half days to make the journey to Palu. Their waterskins emptied near a day before, and their throats turned rough as the sand that surrounded them. But they made it. None of them died, thank the ancestors. Though the last few miles, Bethe and Caeiti carried Jocqueline between them after she collapsed from the heat.
But they made it.
Mulli cried when their bucket came up full and Nabs wondered how her body had any liquid left within it. As they cupped their hands to catch the water that sloshed out of the bucket, Nabs ordered each of her sisters not to swallow it. They needed to hold the water in their mouths and let it clear away the mucus and sand that solidified in them, and let it trickle down their dry throats.
Each of them knew to do this, of course. But it was one thing to have heard your mother tell you how to survive in the desert while you were a young vai, and another thing entirely to remember to do it when every part of your body wanted to guzzle down as much water as you could.
It was only when she was certain that each of her sisters were safe that she took her first drink. And what a drink it was. She would have traded all the wine she had ever tasted, if it meant that from now on all drinks tasted as sweet as that first sip of well water.
They stayed at the Palu Well for a full day, relaxing, gathering their strength and filling every container they had with water. Then they made the last leg of their march to Oasis. Miserable, stinking, and covered in sores and sunburn. But after a week's march, they made it to the walls around the Oasis just as the sun set.
The Gerudo lived in small tribes all about the desert. Wandering from well to well, hunting sandseals or gathering food from the small pockets of land where some rudimentary farming could get done. In exactly one way, Nabs had been lucky in her childhood. The witch's had their own well. They all still had to farm and hunt, but they were never low on water.
But as soon as she left those hags behind, she and Gan learned just how precious and rare water could be. How every day in the desert meant toil and sweat and fear.
Except at the Oasis. The only place that could sustain a group of people of any real size. If you controlled the Oasis, you controlled Gerudo Desert. And so, the people made its walls mighty, with towers that almost rivaled those found in the castles and keeps of Hyrule.
Normally, Nabooru found a bit of pride in the walls of the Oasis. It may not be as imposing as Hyrule Castle, but then Hyrule had the Gorons to bring them the stone to build it. The Gerudo mined the stones of these walls themselves, carried the rocks across the desert themselves, and built the gate themselves. But after a week of marching through the desert on foot while conserving water, she had no more time for pride. Especially now that upon arriving late into the night, the gates were closed.
"Oy!" she shouted at the gatehouse. Her voice sounded harsh as the sands. "Open up!"
"Who's that down there?" A guard shouted from atop the gates.
"Nabooru! Open up!"
"The Nabooru?" the guard called back down with a chuckle. "Get off it."
"You don't think I know who I am?"
"I think if you were Nabooru you wouldn't come wandering in from the desert on foot like a beggar. Get out of here."
"Open this gate, or I swear to you. I will climb up this wall, snatch your sword from your hand and then cut your head off with it. How's that sound?"
The guards muttered amongst themselves. Then a new voice called down. "Right, that sounds like you, Commander. Stand back, we'll open the gate."
Nabooru stepped away, nodding to her sisters.
"Ganondorf was a fool to never bring you to speak with the king and his advisors," Desqueza smirked at her. "You have such tact."
Nabooru glared at her, but more playing the part for the sake of the joke than any real malice. If Desqueza could joke and smirk that meant their troubles were over. At least, the troubles that her sisters needed to worry about.
As the gates fully opened a row of guards armored and holding spears rushed out among them. At their head a tall vai with close-cut hair and her helmet under her arm. She looked vaguely familiar, perhaps someone she had fought beside during some battle? But which one, she could not say.
"Vasaaq, Commander Nabooru," she said with the same voice that recognized her, then she saluted. "I apologize for my subordinate. She did not realize-"
"There is no issue captain. But my sisters need lodgings in the barracks and I will need to speak to the Matrons."
The captain frowned. "I'm sorry commander, but I don't have the authority to call a council of the Matrons. Half of them are asleep."
Nabooru pulled Gan's letter from her pack and handed it to the captain. "Here's your authority. Get it done." Then she sniffed under her arm. If she was going to speak before the Matrons she couldn't go in looking like this. "And I'll need a bath."
"All of us, Nabs," Jocqueline piped up from behind her.
"I'm sorry, again, but the Oasis is under orders to use as little water as possible. I don't think I can open up the bathhouse."
Enough of this. Nabooru stepped up to the guard and looked directly into her eyes. The captain swallowed and tried to look away, before seeming to realize there was nowhere else to look. Nabooru spoke slow and clear. Making certain that her voice didn't sound angry, or at least not too angry. The added hoarseness of the journey made it impossible to sound pleasant. But the important thing was to make her orders firm, so a guard captain would never dream of refusing her. "Then find out what water can be spared, exactly. And bring it to us. Understood?"
"Yes, commander. Yes. Right away."
"Wonderful, thank you, captain." She smiled and backed away, patting her on the shoulder. The guard let out a breath before she saluted again and turned to order her guards around.
"Bit, what's the word? Confrontational, don't you think?" Bethe muttered.
"I'll see the vai on duty tonight compensated," Nabs said. "In the morning, if they get us the water."
"Commander?" Makeela said as they watched the guards rush about to their duties. "Is that still your position? Should we have been saluting you all this time?"
"Who knows anymore?" Nabooru admitted. "I don't think I ever formally gave up my command when Ganondorf took me to the peace summit. But my army is gone, so that doesn't make me much of a commander."
"Enough of one to get that done," Bethe said, nodding toward the guards still running to their positions, fetching buckets and rushing to the barracks to get their rooms available.
The guards did their work quick, within moments they were ushered into a set of rooms in the barracks that still had heat and smell of the soldiers that must have been sleeping there moments before. But when the king's own honor guard need a place to stay, the common soldiers would have to double up their rooms. And it was not like each of them got too much preferential treatment. They'd all share bunks for the night.
But it was a room.
Not a tent, desperately trying to keep out the heat of the sun when it was too hot to walk across a desert. Or just as desperately trying to keep the heat in during the coldest hours of the night. There were beds. Even if they had to sleep two or three to a cushion, Naboore wanted nothing more than to drop in on one and sleep for days.
Well almost nothing more. Just as soon as she had visions of plopping herself into a bed, the doors opened and a few of the city guards rushed in carrying buckets of water. She and her sisters cheered. Just the thought of getting all the caked-up filth off her was bliss.
A good commander would let her sisters wipe themselves down first. And Nabooru would have let them if she had the time. "Move aside," she said as she took off her foul smelling, sweat and sand covered clothes, stepped into the basin at the center of the room with the bucket in the middle. She plunged her hands into the bucket and splashed the water across her face and then her arms.
Glorious. She almost cried as the ice-cold water dribbled down her face onto her neck. No, this was definitely better than the bed. She rubbed and scrubbed at the sand and dirt, ecstatic at the feeling of becoming clean. If she could do one thing, she'd lay down in the basin and just pour the bucket of water over her again and again until she turned into a prune.
But, once more her duties made demands of her. She needed to go fast. And from the sound of it, the Oasis couldn't spare that much water. Calling the Matrons for a nightly meeting was one thing. But calling them and then making them wait for her was something even Commander Nabooru, Advisor of the King, honored hero of the war wouldn't dare do.
All too quick she made herself finish her rinse, making certain to leave most of the water in the bucket for whoever came next. Then she dressed in some of the clean clothes the guards brought for them, and oh the feeling of clean linen and cloth on her skin. How she missed it. She let out a content sigh as she covered herself.
"Well," she said to her sisters. "Wish me luck then. When I get back, I expect each of you to be either sleeping or drinking." She smiled at them. "We made it."
They cheered for her, Makeeli clapped her on her back.
"Don't do that," Desqueza pulled Makeeli's hand away. "You'll just make her a mess again."
"Right," Makeeli blushed. "Sorry, Nabs."
The Hall of the Matrons stood tall as the grandest works in all the Gerudo Desert. The first time she visited the Oasis as a child she marveled at its size. But now that she'd seen the scale of a Hylian city and the grandeur of a keep, it was hard to hold the Hall with the same awe she once had. The walls and gatehouses may compare to those of a castle. But all their efforts focused on defense and had little left for vanity.
That was what the castles in Hyrule were all about, as far as she was concerned. Vanity and opulent displays of wealth. The splendor of Hyrule Castle served little purpose beyond amazing the dimwits that entered on bent knee to grovel before kings and lords. But this was a land of Gerudo warriors and raiders, not peasants and serfs.
The Hall of the Matrons wasn't much of a hall at all. It had a hallway, but it led to a more rounded room. Where the leaders of all the great Gerudo tribes met to discuss policy and negotiate disputes. Though over the last hundred years most their work centered on the planning of the war.
Around the edge of the room sat numerous chairs, all identical besides the ware of ages upon them. All except one, that stood empty at the front, so that anyone who entered would see it first. The largest and highest raised of them all, Ganondorf's chair, or throne, as it were. Though much like the hall itself, the throne of the Gerudo King did not much compare to the gold and jewel encrusted seat the King of Hyrule sat his oversized rear in. But for the Gerudo it worked fine.
Gan's seat wasn't the only one that was empty. Most of them held nothing on them but air. Most of the time, the Matrons remained with their people, scattered across the desert making the hundreds of decisions necessary for the clan to survive. Usually only a handful of the Matrons participated in the councils, those few that visited the Oasis at any given time.
Only once in all her life had Nabooru seen all the Matrons come together, and that had been when Ganondorf turned sixteen and first took his throne. All the Matron's swore fealty to him, but since then they were lucky to have a third in place.
On this night, there sat only four.
But among them some of the most feared and respected names in all the desert. Bartel the Swimmer the first Gerudo to lead an assault on the Zora in sixty years. Rijya of the Molduga-Skinners, a slender woman with a face as wrinkled as cracked boiled leather who once held off an invasion of Hylian knights with only her lies. And chief among them Konoru the Sandstorm, who ruled as regent of the Gerudo before Gan came of age. No one besides Ganondorf himself demanded more respect.
In truth, Nabooru never cared for Konoru. She'd been losing the war before Gan took command, and never seemed to give him the devotion he deserved. Still, a Matron was a Matron. And if Nabs had one task, it was to convince her.
Get Konoru in line, the rest will follow.
But as she silently rehearsed her lines before the council, she saw one more who sat on a Matron's chair. A Matron entirely new to her. Well, not precisely, she'd know the woman all her life. But Nabooru never expected to see her here. "Ma?"
"Daughter," Bulira gave the slightest wave. She looked positively ridiculous sitting among the other matrons. Each of them had strong names, hard names. Names that made Hylians quiver in fear and young Gerudo dreaming of joining their ranks. Warriors shaped by lifetimes of battles.
Bulira had hands dried and cracked from scrubbing pots. No muscle at all on her bones, she looked frail and sickly even wrapped in her blankets. Her body withered from age and the mistreatment of the Twinrova. But joy and friendliness remained behind her eyes. They held wisdom and patience unlike any other present.
"When did you get raised to a Matron?"
"Not long ago," Bulira said, adjusting a thin blanket over her thin legs.
"How? We were never even part of any of the great tribes."
"I was invited," Bulira said, a little smile twisting the side of her mouth. "Matron Kalani of the Boar-Heads went to the sands last year, and the rest of the tribe came to me." She gave a little titter. "Apparently, they thought a woman who helped raise the two greatest warriors of the generation was someone worth listening to. Imagine their surprise when I arrived instead of some great weaponmaster."
"Why didn't you tell me? I would have come to see you take your seat."
"Oh, you were busy in the West. I didn't want to be a bother."
"Be a bother? A bother," Nabooru couldn't help but chuckle. Her mother received the greatest honor a Gerudo could hope for, and she thought it a bother.
A harsh voice cut the rest of their conversation off. "Not that I want to ruin this touching reunion," Bartel said. "But it is late, and we were called for a meeting."
"Right," Rijya said in a slow emotionless monotone. "We need our beauty sleep. Else we might start looking old."
"Of course," Nabooru said and drew herself up to her full height with a breath. "I come with a message from Ganondorf. By decree of our King, he asks that each of the tribes call up two-hundred warriors. There is war raging through Hyrule against an invasion of monsters. King Liotidos wishes all of his allies to aid in driving the monsters off."
Bartel's lips pursed, and her nose scrunched up her wrinkled face. As if she smelled something she did not quite like. "Don't see much point sending our daughters out to defend Hylian land."
Konoru closed her eyes as if calculating some vast sums in her head, then nodded in agreement. "Less than a year as allies and already they call upon us to fight for them? In land we likely won't be allowed to raid as we fight. There is no profit to be had there."
"Just bad time management by the Hylians," Rijya said. "Fighting a second war in as many years."
"Nevertheless, your king commands it."
"A king leads," Konoru said. "A king commands only when necessary. Even Ganondorf needs support of the Matrons before he starts a war."
Bulira gave a quiet cough. "If I may," she squeaked.
"For the last time," Bartel the Swimmer muttered. "You can just talk, you don't need to ask permission."
Nabooru's mother just gave the other Matrons a shy little smile. "Sorry, Matron Bartel."
"You don't need to apologize either," Bartel sighed.
"Manners have no place in governance," Rijya muttered.
"Go on, Matron Bulira," Konoru said.
"When I was born, the first water I was given was from the well at Koshri. It has gone dry. When I was awoken for this meeting, I was told wild stories that my daughter almost died because another of our wells has gone dry. Even the waters of the Oasis have sank lower."
"To the point," Bartel muttered.
Bulira gave Bartel a sweet smile. "Sorry. You have to understand I'm used to teaching children, they sometimes need your reasoning explained to them."
Nabooru held back her scoff. Even as a child Ganondorf never needed much explanation for anything. He learned quick. And, if Bulira tried explaining things to Nabs she wouldn't have listened. If Bulira used that calm steady voice filling out slow details to make her point on anyone, it was the witches. Trying to make them understand which of their abuses or demands went too far and why. As ever, the adults who think they know everything already required to be led down the path of an argument.
"We are running out of water, and running out of time," Bulira said. "But over the last few months we have received architects, masons, and builders. All sent from Hyrule, all to help build that aqueduct they say will save us. We need to keep them happy. If that means sending our warriors, that's the price we'll have to pay."
"The aqueduct is the price of ending our war," Bartel said. "That's how our king sold us this blasted peace. And I still think it foolhardy. But I was outvoted then. And now with only the words of these- Hylians," she said that last word as if it was the most vile curse she could speak, "that their stonecraft will even work, they expect us to send more out to die for them? No, that is too much to ask of us."
Konoru nodded her agreement. Rijya, as always, had no expression at all, but that she didn't say anything to oppose her fellow Matron was not a good sign. It was time for Nabooru to step in.
"Regardless, this is a decision for all the tribes. I have given you our king's orders. To move forward, we will need to send messages to the other Matrons."
"Agreed," Konoru said. "There are not enough of us present. If there is nothing else, I will call this meeting closed. Messages will be written and sent at first light. Agreed?"
The other Matrons murmured their yeses. Bartel already stood up and headed out the hall shaking her head. And that would be the end of it. With most of them not following the plan at all. Sands take them, and Gan too while they're at it. He knew she hated having to put on this performance.
"Matron Konoru, mother," Nabooru stepped up to the two women, "if I may have a word."
"Of course," Bulira said, gathering up her blankets.
Konoru nodded as she rose to her feet. "If it can be quick. At my age my mind wanders more than I like this late."
"Always a pleasure, Commander," Rijya said as she passed Nabooru and left the room, though she sounded more like she had never experienced pleasure before.
"What is it?" her mother said when the three of them were alone.
Nabooru nodded, trying to think what needed to be said. Finding no other clear alternative, she decided on the truth. "I have, a confession, I suppose."
"Those are normally reserved for the ancestors," Konoru said. "But go on."
"The alliance, this whole situation with the Hylians has been a lie. Ganondorf has no desire to keep to the alliance any more than he has to."
"Nabooru," Bulira said, shock and disapproval in her voice.
But Konoru only nodded. "That does answer some questions I had."
"He's making a play. A big one, something, well, I can't even really explain it. But when the time is right, he wants the Gerudo army at his side within Hylian territory."
"He understands of course," Konoru said, "that he lied to the Matrons, and has broken oaths made to the Golden Three. We supported his plan of peace, and now you're telling me that was a lie."
"I am."
"By law, he should have his tongue taken out for speaking falsehoods before the Matrons."
"Oh, stop Konoru," Bulira said. "You're not going to have his tongue. We all know it." But her voice carried a hint of worry. The laws were put in place so no tribe would dare lie to gain advantage over the others in the highest court. Many Matrons and warriors held those laws as sacred. And Konoru had not stayed in power for so long by being soft upholding the ancient traditions.
Thankfully she had also not stayed in power for so long by being a fool. "He- we could not let everyone know. If he had spoken his plan before the entire Hall of Matrons by the next day everyone in the desert would know. And eventually words of betrayal would reach even the deaf ears of that fool king in Hyrule."
Konoru nodded. "I understand the strategy of it. But that does not make it right."
"But it does make it prudent. Matron Konoru, our king needs our aid. Before us is the opportunity to rule the world, or at least, all of it that matters. But we need your support. We need the warriors from every tribe to maintain peace during the transition. We need to be able to strike them hard and fast when they're not looking. And we need you, to get all the other Matrons in line."
"I fear the time where I could sway the minds of all my sisters is a ways behind me. Back before my hair had all gone white and our king took his throne."
"You won't get all of them. The Swimmer might drag her feet and curse about going to help our enemy. The Storm-Watchers will make excuses to not send the full amount asked. And who knows what that mad woman Ashdin will end up doing. But the others still respect you. Still listen to you."
"Hmm," Konoru said. "The king will still need to make some answer for his deception."
"And he will. But he also felt he needed someone to oversee the construction of that aqueduct. It will be a huge task, getting the water all the way from Lake Hylia to our land. And it will be vulnerable, out there in Hylian territory. We had long discussed which tribe would be tasked with protecting it. They'd have to leave the desert, live out in the fresh green country all their own. Whatever tribe gets the position will by necessity need to receive a yearly fund to maintain the aqueduct and establish themselves in this strange new land. And when we were talking about who would deserve such a position I said, 'Gan, the only woman in the desert who could be suited for such a task is the Sandstorm herself.'"
"Did you now?" The old woman's mouth closed shut and pressed together into a thin line as she mulled over the offer. Nabooru felt a bit sick in her stomach, she hated these back deals and half-truths. But Gan had given her an order, to see the army gathered by any means necessary. And while she may not always follow her king's orders, she always made certain he was satisfied with the result.
"Do we have your support?"
"You do," Konoru said. "I'll make certain the Matrons vote the way we want as best I can."
"Thank you." Nabooru tapped above her heart in respect, all the while holding back a grin. And Gan wouldn't take her to see the king and his advisors. More fool him.
"With that done, I do think it is well past time I get my sleep. Have a good night, commander, Matron Bulira." Konoru the Sandstorm, most respected vai of the desert exited form the hall, leaving Nabooru alone with her mother.
"Well," a grin she could no longer contain spread over Nabooru's face as she turned to her mother. "Looks like I didn't need your help after all. And by the Goddesses, Matron!" she said, and reached out to hug her mother. But Bulira did not return the smile, even as she accepted her daughter's arms. If anything, she looked rather disappointed.
"Nabooru," she said in a hushed tone. "What have you and Gan been up to?"
Breaking the embrace, Nabs looked puzzled down to her mother. "We're saving the Gerudo. We're keeping us strong."
"You already have," Bulira said. "The war is ended. You and Gan brought peace. And you even managed to get the Hylians to help us with this aqueduct. That is keeping us safe."
"That's not the same," Nabooru said. "I mean keeping us safe from everyone, for the rest of our lives. Even if the treaty holds, which I doubt it would for very long. There will always be other wars, other problems. We can't trust the Hylians to uphold their treaties."
"So, we just break them first, now?" She shook her head. "I knew I shouldn't have raised you with those witches. If I had half of your strength and courage, I would have stolen you and Ganondorf away from them."
"Ma, what are you talking about? The Twinrova have nothing to do with this. This was Gan's plan, and now I suppose also mine."
"Betrayals? Stabbing allies in the back? Making false oaths? Look me in the eyes and tell me, that doesn't sound like something the Kotake and Koume would tell you to do?"
"It's not the same," Nabooru said. "They were vicious for no reason, with no sense behind it. We're just- we're being practical is all."
"When you must beat an enemy, kill them fast and hard when they're not looking." Bulira said, as if she was reciting some ancient text and not just paraphrasing what Nabooru had said moments before.
"Right, something like that. The Gerudo Way. We can't face the knights head on, they'll beat us. I learned that a Satori Pass."
"Koume said that," Bulira shook her head. "When she made Ganondorf execute that captured knight when he was seven. And as for the Gerudo Way, you forget your father was a Hylian. So was mine, so was all of ours. We all just get so caught up in hating them, that we don't realize we're the same."
"That's not-" she already said that was not the same. Twice in fact. Repeating it didn't seem like it would convince her mother of anything.
"Why did you tell me that along with Konoru?"
"In case I needed help convincing her," she said. "If I could rely on anyone, it's you." But the more she thought, the less sense it made. Her mother had always been the one piece of kindness to be found in the world. The one person she trusted to always do the good thing, even if it wasn't always the smart one. Why had she told her about the plots and betrayals? "I suppose, I just wanted your approval."
Bulira shook her head. "You have my support. You and Gan will always have that. But my approval? No. Not for this." She stood on her tiptoes and kissed Nabooru on her forehead. "I'm sorry, Nabooru. I truly am. I should have stolen you both away." And she tightened her blanket around her shoulders and left Nabooru alone in the hall. Alone with her thoughts. Alone with all she had done, and all she still planned to do. Thinking of Sir Jora and how she would give anything to be with him tonight. How his smile kept her going during the trek through the desert. Thinking of the woman she killed on accident, and the baby she had left to die.
And a question formed in the back of her mind. One that she supposed had always been there. Crawling about, scratching just below the surface trying to get out. It revealed itself in a hundred little ways. When she playfully called Gan mad. When she questioned his conviction in prophecy and magic, she now knew were real. How she befriended Hylians and just tried her best not to think what might happen to them. She did all of it, because deep down that question consumed her. And she didn't know how to answer it.
Was all this worth it?