by Forthright
Touching Eri’s arm—in part to see if they were real—Caleb asked, “Why didn’t Hesper know about you?”
“I am a very great secret. And a good one.” Eri’s hand settled over Caleb’s. “Few know that there is truth in the old stories of the clans of sky and stone and wood.”
“You’re a myth?”
“I am the truth behind the ancient tales.” Pressing the flask into Caleb’s palm, they added, “I am a foretaste of an unfolding future. Share it with me.”
Caleb took one mouthful and then another. The liquor was mellowing his mood and sharpening his senses. The stars were braver and brighter, and their songs rang clearer than ever. “I told Josheb. Maybe I shouldn’t have. Maybe it won’t matter.”
Nobody took Josheb’s wild speculations seriously.
More to the point, nobody would hear them.
“Do you want to know why star wine is superlative to all others?”
Caleb smiled bitterly. He already knew too much. What was one more secret? “It’s unlike anything I’ve ever tasted. Not that I’m any kind of aficionado.”
“In long ago days, when the stars were young and the mountains were unclimbed and whole forests stood empty, a curious star found a cleft in a rock and dipped in a finger.”
Eri waited expectantly, so Caleb asked, “Was anything there?”
“The contented purring of celestia bumbers, fat upon the rarest of pollens, and the sweetest of delicacies, for the star’s curiosity was rewarded by a taste of their nectar.”
Caleb stole a glance at Andor. “Is that important?”
“For one curious star, a defining moment.” Eri touched their chest. “Have you reasoned out the purpose I found?”
“You said you’re a vintner. And Hesper mentioned honey mead.” Caleb drew the obvious conclusion. “Was the honey you found an ingredient?”
“Merryvale’s mead takes its sweetness from the sun—golden bees and golden honey. Star wine is another matter, and Andor knows the secret.”
“Because you shared it with him?”
Eri plucked the flask from Caleb’s hand and drained it. “Celestia bumbers and their silvery nectar are precious to the heart of the one whose wine defies comparison.”
Caleb’s heart was sinking. “Are they rare, these bumbers?”
“Increasingly so.”
With another sidelong look, he asked, “Do they look like fuzzy white bees with blue eyes?”
Eri placed a hand over Andor’s heart. “He was dismayed over their loss.”
Hesper had said something about angering the First of Bears.
“They swarmed me.” Caleb bit back all the excuses he could have hidden behind. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to deprive you.”
Andor huffed and spoke to Eri, who broke into a hopeful smile.
“Will the curious man who found a cleft in a rock call home the flock he scattered?”
Caleb hesitated. “He needs my help?”
“Reluctant as Andor is to admit it.” Eri’s tone turned wry. “You are their only hope.”
Missing Pieces
Caleb couldn’t exactly remember how he found his way back to bed, but nothing seemed amiss. Judging by the height of the candle glowing in the corner, it was morning. Was he actually getting used to measuring time in candle wax? That was an unhappy thought, so Caleb pushed it aside. Because he felt good. Better than he should have, given how much star wine he’d consumed the night before.
What was this lingering sensation?
He felt … elation? Was it hope? Maybe it was a little more like anticipation. But what did cave-dwelling captives have to look forward to?
Eri’s words rang in his memory. The songs are culminating, and their resolution may surprise you.
With a sudden and desperate need to not think, Caleb pushed that aside, too. Instead, he tackled the slapdash bundle of gear Andor had harvested from their campsite. Unpacking everything, he set about organizing and inventorying, from Nessie’s flea and tick ointment to Josheb’s remaining stash of canned ravioli.
Almost by accident, he realized something was missing. His driver’s license.
Heart hammering, he located his brother’s wallet and thumbed through its contents. Josheb’s ID was gone, too. Which brought up a bunch of questions.
Could these people be running some kind of background check?
Was somebody reporting them missing or found … or found dead?
Oaken must have them. Since when? And who had summoned Oaken? Because if he’d left with their driver’s licenses in hand, then he’d probably been called in about them. Which begged a whole bunch of other questions.
“Caleb?”
He jumped and turned to find Hesper standing in the entrance. “Umm. Yeah?”
“Andor’s asking for you.”
“Is it about the bees?”
Hesper’s eyebrows rose. “That’s right. He needs your help getting them back to their nest.”
“Be right there,” he said distractedly. Should he change into his own clothes? Or keep borrowing Eri’s?
“Caleb?”
He hadn’t realized she was still there. “Yeah?”
“How did you know about the bumbers?”
Oh. Right.
I am a very great secret. And a good one.
Without a word, Caleb crossed to the bed, pulled his field journal from under the pillow, and opened it and added a quick sketch of a bumber. “Pictures and gestures can go a long way toward understanding.”
Hesper hummed. It was a skeptical hum, but she didn’t challenge him further.
“You’re up?”
Josheb was out of bed and in a chair at the table in what passed for the kitchen. Patting a rustic crutch leaning at his side, he quipped, “You can’t keep a Dare down!”
Caleb thought he was missing the point. “Should you be up?”
“Yes, I should.” His brother’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Don’t go off having adventures without me. Better together, right?”
Which meant Caleb didn’t have to do this alone. He claimed a chair, and relief must have shown on his face, because Josheb’s smile widened.
He asked, “So what are we doing?”
Caleb toyed with his spoon. “I’m supposed to bring back those figments that chased us. It seems Andor is a little like a beekeeper, and he’s pretty upset that I scattered his flock.”
“Big Bo Peep has lost his sheep?” asked Josheb.
Hesper snorted into her cup. “They’re Ephemera. Rare and irreplaceable celestia bumbers.”
“Leave them alone and they will come home …?” suggested Josheb.
“But they haven’t,” countered Hesper. “And that’s been troubling him.”
“So how’s Caleb supposed to bring them back?”
Caleb could only shrug. Nobody’d covered that part.
Hesper leaned forward. “I’ll tell you a little secret, scruff-bucket. Your brother’s the attractive one.”
Josheb pulled bemusedly at his beard. “We look alike. And when it comes to personality ….”
Caleb jumped in to confirm, “He’s the popular one. Always has been. Always will be.”
“Not where I come from. Not here and now.” Hesper turned a look on Caleb that was decidedly flattering. “No contest.”
With a put-upon whine in his tone, Josheb extended a hand. “Nessie, you still love me? Dontcha, girl?”
She immediately went to him, delighted as ever to have his attention. But Caleb could tell it was small consolation. With a sudden shifting of paradigms, he saw Josheb from Hesper’s point of view. He wasn’t plagued by figments, and he didn’t hear the songs of stars. That didn’t make Josheb reassuringly normal. For someone like her, it meant that he was missing something.
A missing piece that had always belonged to Caleb.
Making him attractive to a potentially dangerous set.
Popularity Contest
Andor picked up Caleb. Not exactly unexpected, given
the events of last night. But when Hesper plucked Josheb off his feet, his brother yelped. “Whoa! Hey, now! What’re you …?”
“Stop flailing!” snapped Hesper. She had him in a cradle hold, and he was helpless to resist.
But that didn’t stop him from protesting. “I call this undignified.”
“It’s a long walk, gimpy. Calm your ego and enjoy the ride.”
He did quiet down. Briefly. “You’re not even straining.”
“Would you prefer I was inconvenienced?”
“How strong are you?” Josheb asked.
“Stronger than a dainty fellow like you.”
Oh, Josheb wouldn’t like that. He’d always been above average in height, strength, and athleticism. And he’d gone straight from sports to survival training to thrill seeking. All physically demanding. All a point of pride.
But Josheb didn’t bristle. “Give me numbers. How much can you bench press?”
“No idea.”
“How can you not know?”
Hesper laughed. “Why would I go drawing attention to myself by showing off at a gym.”
“Because you can?”
Andor lengthened his stride. Caleb suspected that Mister Big wasn’t used to the noise and was distancing himself. He could sympathize. Maybe Hesper could, too. She was letting him get away.
Even Nessie hung back, dogging Hesper’s steps, keeping Josheb in sight.
For a while, Caleb searched for landmarks. Maybe if he could plot their position on his internal map, he could … what? Escape? His chances were slim if not none, and time was getting away from them. If they were still here when snow struck, they’d be stranded until spring.
“I don’t know what you expect me to do,” Caleb said softly.
Andor eyed him briefly, grunted, and … patted his back.
“You should know, I don’t like bugs.” This was pointless, but he needed to be heard. “Most figments scare me on some level. And you’re the biggest one of all.”
A baffled gaze. A worried frown.
Caleb knew the words weren’t getting through, so he tried for the right tone, the right expression. Could he get the gist across?
“Some are cute. I’ll grant you that. I don’t mind them so much. Or the ones who leave me alone. But your bees, your bumbers, they came after me, and they clung to me. I’m not hurt, but it felt like an attack. I don’t want to go through that again.”
Andor grumbled, adjusted his hold, and gave Caleb his hand.
More specifically, he was giving Caleb access to his ring.
Whether it was just to get him to shut up or because he thought this was what Caleb was trying to ask for, he was glad for the chance to study the stone in daylight.
A roughhewn crystal had been set into a wide metal band etched with dozens of tiny symbols. While they didn’t shine, the stone gave that impression. Was it actually glowing? No, it had to be a trick of the light, which seemed to collect within. The stone was clear. Or nearly so. Angling his head to one side, Caleb located a blush of pink near its center, like a frozen flower petal.
He touched it. Or it touched him. It was difficult to say which.
And the veil was swept aside. He could hear the stars. Not singing per se, but chattering and laughing, as if they were swapping tales somewhere in the wings. No one voice stood out, and Caleb couldn’t understand a word of it. But the tones were pleasant, and eavesdropping gave him something to do while Andor covered several more miles.
“Put me with him,” ordered Josheb. “There’s room.”
Caleb perched atop the bumber nest, with its riddling of holes. Silent now, and somehow colder.
“Barely,” protested Hesper.
“It’s a rock,” pointed out Josheb. “We’re not going to break it.”
She said something to Andor, who grunted and waved. Caleb wondered if he’d need to learn Andor’s language. Oaken might be patient enough to teach him, once he returned. Or maybe Eri? Was there any point, though, if Andor stuck to nonverbals?
Josheb crowded close. “Make room.”
“If I move over any further, I’ll fall off,” said Caleb.
“I’m your counterweight.” Josheb wrapped an arm around his waist and leaned away, as if daring gravity to take either of them. “So this is a hive?”
“Nest,” Hesper corrected. “And Caleb is going to be a little like a homing signal. As they say, a lure that works once can work twice.”
“Who exactly says that?” Josheb asked.
Hesper smirked and sidestepped the question by addressing Andor. Again, Caleb paid more attention to the tone than the foreign syllables. She was so much more polite than she was with him or Josheb. Respectful.
Andor’s answer barely counted as an explanation. His words were few, but his actions were plain. From the bag at his hip, he withdrew another stone. Much larger than the crystal in his ring, this one was as big as his fist and winking with pale green facets.
“Looks like some kind of beryl, maybe,” murmured Josheb. “Is it just a mineral? Precious? Semi-precious?”
“It’s a remnant, and it’s rare enough,” said Hesper. “Treat it with care. Crack it at your peril.”
Josheb was blatantly delighted. “How menacing.”
Andor offered the crystal to Caleb, who needed both hands. It was heavy, and it was humming. “Hello,” he muttered.
“Are you talking to a rock?” Josheb leaned closer. “You’ve never mentioned that before.”
“I never noticed before this trip. And I don’t know what it means.”
“Interesting.” Josheb turned to Hesper. “What’s the deal? You called it a remnant. As in a leftover scrap? Or one of the last of its kind?”
Hesper rolled her eyes. “We’ll save such stories for when the work is over. Caleb needs to call the flock.”
“How?” asked Caleb, looking to Andor.
When he spoke, it was with slow words and many gestures.
Hesper nodded and translated. “Tune your heart to the stone, and it will amplify your hopes.”
Caleb was incredulous. “Still waiting for the how.”
Josheb, who’d never been good about the ‘no touching’ rule, traced a fingertip over the stone’s winking facets. He quietly asked, “Am I imagining the hum?”
They were touching.
They were doing the thing.
“No,” replied Caleb. “It’s almost like the stone’s alive.”
“More like there’s a little bit of life hidden in the stone,” Hesper corrected in reverent tones. “A memory. A prophecy. The remnant of a song.”
Josheb considered that for a moment. “So you’re asking Caleb to sing with it?”
“I don’t sing,” Caleb protested.
“We’re not putting you on the spot for a solo.” Hesper reached out and tapped his chest. “Think happy thoughts, and include the bumbers, if you can.”
Happy thoughts and figments didn’t often go together. “I’m not sure ….”
Andor suggested something, and Hesper translated. “To call them home, think of home.”
“That’s a long way from here.”
“But home has a feeling, doesn’t it?” countered Hesper.
Josheb tightened his hold. “Can’t hurt to try.”
Which was true. So Caleb focused on the big crystal in his hands, rubbing his thumb along rough edges as he listened. It was a little like hearing stars. In fact, he thought he could hear their voices, though they were muffled. Caleb wasn’t touching Andor’s ring, but he knew right where it was, and when he focused on it, everything came clearer.
“That’s the way,” murmured Hesper. “You’ve got the right idea.”
Andor grunted, then offered a remark.
Josheb whispered, “What did he say?”
“You don’t want to know, scruff-bucket.” Hesper’s voice was huskier than usual. “Only make you jealous.”
Come Home
Why was it working? Caleb hadn’t even given a thoug
ht to home yet.
He cradled the stone to his heart and tuned out Josheb and Hesper. What was it, now? He’d been listening to the stone and thinking of stars. But they weren’t part of his home. Home was his orderly loft, high above the city. Where he kept a window cracked, even on frigid nights, so he wouldn’t miss the distant melodies of the stars.
Stars like Eri.
The hum in the crystal became a clear note as Caleb’s thoughts dwelt on a second moon and a shining face, the taste of star wine and the sharing of secrets.
“Oooh, yes. Hesper hummed appreciatively. “Settle into that groove. Andor’s banishing the barrier.”
Josheb wriggled and shifted, and then his jacked dropped over Caleb. “Keep your head down. And keep up the good work.”
Humming wings came closer, and Caleb was grateful for his brother’s forethought. He didn’t want to be plastered with homesick bugs, clinging and crawling in their eagerness to touch him. Turning his face into Josheb’s shoulder, he wished for peace and wine and songs with everything he had.
“Help me keep them off,” snapped Josheb. “He doesn’t like bugs, all right?”
Hesper spoke.
Andor growled.
Nessie whined.
Suddenly, Caleb could smell something sweet on the air, and another weight dropped over him—thick and stifling, heavy with spice and musk. He struggled to push it off.
“Leave it,” Josheb ordered. “It’s Andor’s coat, and it’s shielding you pretty well. Only a few stragglers, now. Hang in there, bro.”
More words.
A husky chuckle.
Josheb exclaimed, “They purr? Dang, that’s almost cute.”
But Caleb kept his head down and his eyes clamped shut. Because one voice was carrying more clearly than all the rest. And he was sure it was Eri’s, because the song was in English. Were they singing for Caleb’s sake?
It seemed important. He wanted to know.
Caleb focused harder, reaching for Eri.
A voice reached back. “Sing with me.”
Caleb shook his head.
Eri said, “Accompany me.”
As if Caleb had an instrument. Again, he balked.
“Not with harp or lute or pipes.” There was a gentleness to Eri’s merriment. “Accompany me in the manner of friends. Hear my song and learn of me. Let my song become part of you.”
