by Brandon Barr
“It must be urgent if they wish to speak with me at this hour. But I don’t understand how they found me. The Hold gave no announcement of my coming.”
“I do not think they are sent from the King, for they are a strange-looking group.” The Mayor turned and said in a low voice, “They say they have a Tongue with them. I counted only five in their party. Three men, a young woman, and a child.”
A Tongue?
The news sent chills running over Meluscia’s skin.
Was it possible?
Had the Makers returned to aid men again? There hadn’t been a true prophet in fifty years.
And if it was true, why did they want to see her?
Anxiousness began to quicken her heart. Tongues were prophets who spoke good and bad. But, taken as a whole, the histories were far more ripe with words of doom than of hope.
_____
Meluscia descended the stairs into the Mayor’s hall and spotted the five travelers. The band from the Verdlands stood huddled together upon the stone floor. By the look of their clothing and demeanor, they certainly were not sent from King Feaor. Each of the five wore poor farmers’ cloaks stained and frayed at the edges. And each had rough leather pants, even the girl. In truth, they looked like a band of outcasts or vagabonds. Not a party she might imagine having a Tongue.
The girl the Mayor had mentioned looked to be only fifteen, or so. Of the three men, only one was not bent and ragged. The two older men had long gray beards, and one’s face was withered like dried fruit with a long, thin nose. The younger man looked close to Meluscia’s age. He held the hand of the small boy, who peered at her from behind his leg.
It dawned on Meluscia that this was her first official dealing as Luminess Imminent. The atmosphere felt thick with meaning. All eyes turned to her as her foot touched the floor of the hall.
“Welcome, travelers,” said Meluscia. “I am told you were looking for me. Is there something I or the power of the Hold can do for you?”
The young man spoke from where he stood, “Thank you for seeing us so quickly. I am Wiluit. A hunter from a region north of the Verdlands. The others with me are from far and wide. We would tell you more, but there is urgency behind our meeting you. We would have waited to talk with you when you woke in the morning, but there is one in our number who bears the Tongue of the gods. If you are the daughter of the Luminar, he has a message for you.”
“I am the Luminar’s daughter,” said Meluscia, as calmly as she could manage. “What is the message?”
The boy tugged at Wiluit’s shirt from where he hid behind the hunter’s leg. Wiluit took a knee and the boy whispered in his ear.
Meluscia steadied herself.
Wiluit frowned, and whispered something back to the boy. Finally, Wiluit rose to his feet. “This boy is the gods’ Tongue. He says you are not the daughter he is looking for. Is there another?”
Meluscia teetered on the edge of relief and insult. The Tongue had not come for her? But…what in the heavens could the gods want with Savarah?
“I have a sister, but she is not the blood daughter of the Luminar. She is his mercy child.”
Wiluit nodded. “May we speak with her? I believe it is urgent.”
Meluscia looked to Mayor Brucite. “Is Savarah still gone?”
“She never arrived,” said the Mayor.
Meluscia tried to recall the last words Savarah spoke to her. She had gone to talk to someone about the quickest path through the Verdlands. Who they were, or where they lived, Savarah had not said.
Meluscia noticed something strange about the young girl who was with the band of travelers. Her face had gone pale, and she was staring at Meluscia’s dress. Suddenly, the girl took hold of the old bearded man’s hand and he bent down. She whispered in his ear.
Wiluit was about to speak when the old man stopped him with a throaty growl. “We need to have council,” he said.
Immediately, the five huddled together and began speaking quietly amongst themselves. It wasn’t long before they stood, and Wiluit rushed up to Meluscia, stopping just before her with a dire look.
“Gather together men and weapons,” he said fiercely. “Your sister is in grave danger.”
Terror gripped Meluscia. Wiluit’s eerie confidence in his own words was unnerving. The fear on his face was palpable. Savarah was in terrible danger.
“Lord Mayor,” called out Meluscia, “Give me your best fighting men, and quickly!”
The mayor turned to the handful of guards who were standing along the walls. “Rouse the others. Tell them to come now—they don’t have time to dress.”
“What kind of danger is she in?” Meluscia asked Wiluit.
Wiluit’s eyes held her own. He reached out and took her right hand in both of his. The bold move startled Meluscia. “A man and a woman are close to killing her. She is tied down in their house. I am sorry to have to tell you this.” Wiluit released Meluscia’s hand and went to a window and looked out. “The girl and the boy will join us,” he said loudly. “They will lead us to where she is. What is your sister’s name?”
“It is Savarah,” said Meluscia, and turned to look again at the young girl in Wiluit’s group. She found the girl’s eyes were on her. Fear was written on her face, but beyond that, there was something else. Something akin to disgust.
And for some reason, Meluscia was certain it was directed at herself.
More men rushed into the room with swords, looking disheveled and wearing dingy clothes that looked slept in.
“Meet us out front on your horses,” called Wiluit, moving to the door. “We ride immediately.”
LOAM
Chapter Twenty-Seven
WINTER
Laughter spilled through the recreation room. The entire scene felt surreal with all the Guardians there, including Karience and Nephitus. The entire group sat on a long, cushioned sofa curved into a semi-circle. Zoecara had tried to entice everyone into sharing a story about their first kiss and their first time. Winter had had no idea what that last phrase meant until the VOKK sorted out the innuendo for her, at which point she immediately felt uncomfortable.
Hark’s first kiss story didn’t come with many details, only that he was ten, and that the girl had surprised him with the kiss—which he promptly wiped from his lips. His story made Winter think back to when she was five or six and was pretending she was courting a boy from Plot Two. He was by himself, looking for bugs or something when she told him to stand up. The moment he did, she kissed him quickly on the lips. She didn’t remember his name, but she remembered the way he wrinkled his nose and glared at her as if she’d poked him with a sewing needle. Not so dissimilar from Hark’s first kiss.
Zoecara then prodded Hark to tell his first time story, but he had rolled his eyes and said, “I’ll pass.”
“You go, Daeymara!” said Zoecara with enthusiasm. “Yours is hilarious!”
Daeymara had a very serious look on her face. “Not tonight.”
“What?” exclaimed Zoecara. “Why not? You’ve told worse stories before.”
Winter noticed Daeymara’s eyes flash briefly to Aven.
“I’ll pass this time,” she said, sweeping her hair behind her ear.
Zoecara jumped in and told her story next. She was from an upworld, and unlike the farm people who had families, on Zoecara’s world one simply mated at will with anyone, and with no expectation to stay together longer than the night. She said she couldn’t remember her first kiss, but her first time story was uncomfortably detailed. She had no qualms saying exactly what her lover’s mouth was doing, and which part of her his hands were touching. Winter wanted to shrink from the room.
Fortunately, the lurid descriptions ended at a point when Zoecara’s lover got angry at a barking dog outside the window of the abandoned building they were in. He tried to throw a half-empty bottle of ale at the animal but, being intoxicated, his throw went high. Shards of glass had rained down over Zoecara’s bosom, along with half a pint of ale. Winter coul
dn’t understand why Zoecara would ever share such an experience out loud. It was so filthy and cheap.
When Zoecara finished, Winter found herself off-balance as she tried to understand the culture of an upworld. On the farm, Zoecara would have belonged in the Baron’s harem.
“Now, come on,” said Zoecara, baring her teeth. “I dare someone to try and top that!”
Winter furrowed her eyebrows. If Zoecara really suspected her and Aven of being Shadowmen, then she was very good at not showing it. She was so spirited, as if she had no concerns at all.
Winter recalled Zoecara’s words about Pike when she and Aven first arrived. She had promised not to forget who Pike really was, his history. Had that been an act?
Suddenly, Zoecara’s eyes were on her. Winter looked away. She felt her face burning and hoped the dim lights hid the flush of red on her cheeks.
The laughter had died down. Hark’s mate entered the rec room, holding their youngest child. The woman came up behind him, caressed the side of his face, then whispered something in his ear.
Hark nodded. “The Dolphin Moon is four days away. Akexi is wondering what wine to buy for this year’s swim.”
“The sape wine from Kyrnae’s vineyards,” said Rueik. “The princess may be opposed to our presence, but her winepress makes a fine glass of chardonnay!”
Karience stood. “I’m retiring for the evening. Thank you all for your stories and entertainment tonight.” She walked a few paces, then turned to face everyone. “As to the Dolphin Moon festivity, the only thing I request is the presence of soldiers this year.”
“Are you going?” asked Nephitus.
“Not after losing three Emissaries,” said Karience. “I think after what has happened so far this year, we should be more cautious. I think it prudent that not all of us are in the same place unless it is within the confines of this building or the portal overlook, inside the protected zone.”
Nephitus came and stood beside Karience. “I’d advise the same. A contingent of soldiers should be present.”
Karience nodded to Hark. “See that the guards are informed.”
“I will, Empyrean.”
“As for tonight, I have duties. I bid you goodnight.”
Karience and Nephitus left the room, leaving an uncomfortable silence.
Winter was surprised to hear her brother speak first. “Do Missionaries always have so much free time?” asked Aven. “The Warden and the Empyrean always seem busy, but…what kind of schedule do you have?”
“We do have a lot of time on our hands,” said Hark. “That’s because we’re in training for twenty months here on Loam, and our training has mostly ended. Except for Arentiss—she’s the newest. Been here ten months. But she’s so damn smart, she’s nearly completed the training phase.”
Winter noticed Arentiss' normally expressionless face give way to a small glint of pride.
“The Guardians have this tradition,” said Rueik. “They allow their Missionaries several months of freedom before they are sent on their mission. A good tradition, if I may say so.”
“What is the Dolphin Moon?” asked Winter.
Zoecara spoke first. “It is the night when the moon’s orbit comes closest to Loam. The Missionaries go down to the beach at midnight, when the moon is directly overhead. It’s become tradition here at the enclave. We swim with the dolphin pods that gather beyond the breakers. It’s quite thrilling to see them in the moonlight. There are thousands of them that gather here.”
“If you are lucky,” said Daeymara, “you may even get to ride one of the creatures.”
“What does a dolphin look like?” asked Winter.
“You don’t know?” said Hark.
Winter looked at Aven, who shrugged and shook his head.
“Do you know, Pike?” asked Zoecara.
A toothy grin spread across his face. “I’m hoping its some kind of…friendly fish?”
The Missionaries looked about ready to explode with laughter. All but one.
“They do look a lot like fish, but they aren’t. Dolphins breathe air. They are mammals, having lungs and no gills,” said Arentiss, breaking her silence. “They’re also big. Almost twice the size of Hark.”
“Leave it to you, Arentiss,” said Rueik. “We could have told them it was a furry octopus or something.”
“We shouldn’t tease them too much,” said Arentiss. “They could probably embarrass all of us over our lack of farming knowledge.”
“I heard a rumor,” said Zoecara, “that one of our Emissaries bought a farm.”
Zoecara’s head turned toward Winter and her brother. A curious smile edged her lips.
“The rumor is true,” said Aven.
Winter could hear the pride in his voice.
“Where we come from,” continued Aven, “owning your own farm is the greatest achievement one could attain, beyond raising a family. Our farm on Baron Rhaudius’s land was not ours. We were little more than slaves, and none of us had any chance of escaping our fates. But tomorrow evening I will receive a certificate of ownership. I will have my own farm.”
“I can only imagine how it must feel, buying your own land,” said Hark.
“Where is it?” asked Rueik.
“North of here,” said Aven, “about an hour’s walk. Where the rolling hills start to form below the mountains.”
“The Green Dune Territory,” said Arentiss. “It is an aesthetically pleasant property.”
“Beautiful, you mean,” said Rueik, and winked at Arentiss.
“We will all have to visit you, Aven,” said Daeymara. “On my home world, it would be customary for your friends to throw you a party.”
“That’s an excellent idea,” said Zoecara.
Winter was about to send Aven a finger message, but he spoke first.
“If anyone wants to join me tomorrow evening, you’re welcome to come. And you can behold the certificate for yourself.”
Winter squeezed his hand. Her brother’s voice had never sounded so full of joy and confidence. It reminded her of their father, how he spoke when he purchased a new tool from the blacksmith. But this was far grander.
“Let’s all go tomorrow,” said Hark. “We can pack food from the kitchen.”
“Yes,” said Rueik. “I’ll get a few bottles of wine and a pie from the bakery. Who is coming?”
Winter stuffed down her annoyance as every person chimed in that they wanted to go. It appeared everyone would be joining them. She had pictured tomorrow evening much differently. Just her and Aven.
As long as Aven was happy, though, she could allow for company. She gave one last look at Zoecara and found the girl’s dusty brown eyes waiting for her. Winter held her gaze.
Zoecara smiled sweetly.
Winter didn’t know what else to do but return the smile, then look away. Was Rueik being irrational? Was he overreacting somehow? Or was Zoecara hiding her suspicions behind an incredibly composed mask?
_____
PIKE
Pike followed behind Aven, Winter, and Arentiss. His palms were sweating. He’d been waiting for the right opportunity to get Aven alone, to talk with him, but there were always others around, and the last thing he wanted to do was come across as awkward.
He pictured cutting into a conversation and saying, “Hey, Aven,” with a prepubescent squeal. “Can we talk?”
No, that would not do.
He waited, walking close behind them, as if trying to be part of their group.
Winter suddenly turned her head toward him. “Why are you following us? Your room’s back that way,” she said, gesturing with her eyes.
“I was hoping to talk to Aven,” said Pike, and was relieved to find no awkward timbre in his words.
“Sure,” said Aven. “Let’s talk. Goodnight, girls.”
Winter’s eyes narrowed, and she stared at her brother.
“Goodnight,” Aven said again.
Winter held a concerned look, then turned abruptly and went with Arentiss
down the hall.
What was that about? wondered Pike.
“So, what’s going on?” asked Aven.
Pike was relieved to find no trace of disdain in Aven’s voice.
“I just wanted to apologize,” began Pike. “For making that joke back at your hovel. It sounded funny in my head. But once I said it, I saw the look in your eyes, and knew I should have kept it in.”
Aven’s jaw tightened, then he shook his head. “It’s alright. I should have responded better. I’ve been on edge lately. All of this is so strange.” He looked up at the ceiling. “I feel out of place here, and it’s affecting my mood.”
“I feel out of place, as well,” said Pike, “and that’s another reason I wanted to talk. We grew up together. I mean, we were friends as kids, and I feel—in a way—like our being here together is…” He paused to gather his thoughts. “I guess I’m trying to say I feel like I need a friend here. Like you said, you feel out of place too. But you and Winter have each other, and I’m just feeling alone, I guess.”
Pike felt something wet roll down his cheek. Great! Crying like a newborn in front of him.
“I understand,” said Aven. There was a reticence in his tone, but he smiled. “I remember us as kids. With Red and Riverstone and Toes. Remember Toes?”
“Of course I remember Toes,” said Pike excitedly, his memories coming alive. “Always at the top of a tree, and we would shout up at him that he should have been named Squirrel.”
Aven nodded, but his expression had grown serious again. He stuck out his hand, and Pike reached out and took it. The look in Aven’s eyes was like a storm. Pike suddenly realized there was more to Aven’s past than he knew, and that Aven must be going through something difficult, something beyond what he himself was dealing with.
“Those are good stories and good times,” said Aven. “We’ll have to make time to share them more often. Perhaps we can rekindle that old friendship.”
“I’d like that very much,” said Pike as Aven let go of his hand. “You might even help me remember some things I’ve forgotten. I haven’t told this to anyone, but my head hasn’t felt…right lately. I can’t remember things. Not unless they were from my childhood. A lot of my recent memories are fuzzy, up until I came here, to the Guardians.”
