by London, Lia
Dag bowed his head.
My father tucked our luggage under the last low-backed bench. “Are we ready to head for camp?”
Dag’s mouth dropped open. “Camp?”
“Where are we going tonight?” I asked cheerfully, squeezing Dag’s hand to reassure him.
“We’ve got a spot in the forest near Lamond,” said my father. “If it ends up being too hard on Dag, there’s a town less than a kilometer away.”
“Lamond?” Dag swallowed. “The reformatory for violent offending youth?”
My father chuckled. “We’ll be at the far side of the woods. Not to worry. They rarely allow the inmates anywhere near the forest. I think they view it as punishment.”
Dag blinked. “We’re going to be sleeping where the inmates at a reformatory think is further punishment?”
“You’re scaring him.” I tugged Dag after me, and we climbed aboard the transport, sitting on the second row where we’d have more protection from the sun.
My father gave me a sheepish grin. “There are tower guards in the area. It’s actually a very secure location.”
Beside me, Dag groaned.
“Close your eyes and rest,” I said, pressing his head to my shoulder. I didn’t want him getting worked up about possible dangers.
As we rolled out of the village, I noted red markings on a fence by the electrical plant. GN will rise to power!
I hugged Dag tighter, making sure my arms would block his view if he opened his eyes. One thing at a time. Let him try sleeping on the ground before dealing with abnormal gypsy hostilities.
OOO
“Is it me, or is it getting colder?” Dag sniffed. “And darker.”
We’d been walking since we left the transport in the village of Finca, and he’d kept pace well, even laden with the backpack.
“Well, we’re under tree cover now,” I said. “You can take the sunglasses off.”
“Ah, yes. That helps!” He held the glasses between his fingers. “Funny, that changes the colors. I can see more details now.” He sniffed again and cast me a worried glance. “Do you think the vaccines failed? Am I getting sick?”
“Of course not. Exertion and changing temperatures often make your nose run. That’s totally normal, though don’t ask me to explain it. You’re the doctor.”
“It is colder, then?”
“Of course. We’re out of the direct sunlight. Shade is always cooler than sunlight.” Spaceys really never studied about the basics of life on the planet, did they? How could a human not know such things, especially such an otherwise brilliant one?
“Do you need a cloak?” asked my mother.
“Cloak?”
“It’s like a blanket you wear.” I struggled not to roll my eyes. “Haven’t you ever watched holovids of Surface life?”
“I guess I wasn’t paying attention to what everything was called.”
“You’ll catch on,” said my father with another back slap.
I could tell this gesture of comradery confused Dag a little, but my father’s smile radiated kindness.
“Are we almost there?” asked Dag.
My parents and I burst out laughing, startling a rabbit from under a fern and sending it darting across our path.
“What? What did I say?” Dag looked half annoyed and half amused.
“You sound like every child on the planet who ever got tired of a long walk or transport ride,” said my father good-naturedly. “But fortunately for you, the answer is yes. We’re just over that rise.”
“Rise?”
An exasperated grunt escaped my throat. “I didn’t know you were going to need an interpreter for everything.” I meant it as a joke, but I could see the hurt in his eyes. Clasping his hand, I leaned into him. “I’m sorry. This is all new, and you’re doing amazingly well. I’ve never seen a spacey walk this well on their first day.” I pointed. “A rise is when then land goes up.”
“A mountain?”
I grinned. “Yes. A tiny little mountain.” We reached the top. “And there’s our tiny little village in the tiny little valley.”
Winded, Dag stopped and stared at the bowl-shaped clearing with the remains of a campfire in the middle and four thermal-vented tents standing guard. Each could comfortably sleep two people with room for storage.
“Four?” I asked. “Who’s with us?”
“We’ve upgraded our tents in your absence,” said my father. “I hope you won’t mind sleeping on air mattresses with temperature controls. They take up more space, so we each get our own tent.”
“Yes!” I cheered. “It’s about time you gave in to comfort!” I gave my mother a side hug. “I know you negotiated this, and I thank you. Which ones are ours?”
My mother pointed to the two tents on the right, and I hurried to open the magnetically sealed door and pull open the flap.
“This is an upgrade?” Dag’s incredulous tone and the weariness in his eyes worried me.
“Come on. I’ll show you.” I ducked inside, and he followed, walking with a slight stoop to keep from brushing his head against the ceiling. Tapping the mattress controls with my toe, I brought the hidden motor to life. As it whirred and filled the giant cushion, I showed Dag how to unpack for efficiency. Little pockets lined the inside walls, each designed to hold vital supplies handy. He didn’t look as impressed as I was, but as I considered it through the eyes of one who lived in pristine, uniform comfort all his life, I could see why this all would be very primitive to him.
He observed everything I showed him and tested the mattress with his knee. “And for washrooms, lavatories, dining?”
I sank onto his mattress, afraid to tell him all the unsavory details of living in the woods away from stationary plumbing or cooking. “Oh Dag, this is all going to be very different for you. I hope it’s worth it for what you learn.”
He sat beside me, his hand on my knee. “If I learn about you, it’ll be enough.”
I stilled. “I thought you were here to learn about gypsy remedies.”
Gently, he tucked my hair behind my ear. “If that was all I wanted, I could have asked you to bring me some on your next trip.”
“You came to the Surface to be with me.” I closed my eyes and tried to comprehend his sacrifice.
Dag placed a soft kiss on my forehead and lay down, curled in a ball beside me. Without a word, I unfolded the thermal blanket from one of the pouches and draped it over him. He fell asleep before I removed his shoes.
OOO
I found my mother huddled in a wooly blanket staring into the fiery embers.
“Hi, Mom.”
She smiled up at me and opened her arms to allow me into the blanket’s embrace. Though too old to snuggle in this way, we hadn’t seen each other in such a long time that it felt good.
“I thought I’d give you a new name,” I teased. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all. It’s what I called my own mother even when everyone else called her Queen Levia.”
I contemplated the crumbling, ashy wood glowing red before us for a while before resting my head on her shoulder. The peacefulness and the aromatic night air muted the frustrations of the past, so when I spoke, my tone no longer challenged her. “Why do you think she was able to unite Caren, but you and Rora couldn’t continue the work? Was it just fear of enemies?”
Her body didn’t stiffen with her usual defensiveness. Instead, she sighed. “Of course, we were scared. She’d been killed in a freak air-lock accident that couldn’t have been an accident, but it was more.”
“What?”
“Mom—Levia had a special connection that strengthened her.”
“Her rapport with the gypsies?” My heart lifted to think of that harmony of cultures being a strength.
“Yes, there was that.” She hesitated. “And she had something inside her.”
“Courage?”
“A pearl.”
My brows dropped with confusion. “What does that even mean?”
“Did y
ou happen to see any faneps when you were on Tye?”
An involuntary shiver traversed my arms and shoulders. “Yes.”
“In her youth, before I was ever born, one of the faneps attacked Mom and cut her leg open with its claws. It put a pearl—the kind the gypsies use in their remedies—into her body.”
“Ew!”
“Yes, ew. Except…” Her voice trailed off, and she studied the dying campfire with a hazy expression. “Mom swore it did something to her. She even kept that creature around her when she decided to tour the System’s planets. She was about your age when she did that, and everyone who knew her said she came back stronger and wiser than ever before.”
“Travel does that to you.”
My mother shrugged. “Maybe, but she claimed it was the pearl. Her newfound strength and confidence turned her into a natural leader, and… Well, you know the history. She brought Caren together, and was making headway with the colonies on Tye. She’d even approached the ICS system.”
I marveled at Levia’s boldness and tenacity. She’d accomplished so much so quickly.
And in months, it had been undone by angry factions who hated her relations with gypsies.
“She was with that stupid fanep when she died,” said my mother dismally. “And when the riots began over who would rule in her stead, they trampled my father to death in our own residence while Rora and I hid in closets…” Her voice trailed off into the distance along with her gaze.
Whether the pearl thing was true or not didn’t matter. The more I imagined my mother’s past, the less I blamed her for not taking up the cause of Granbo System unity. It was a terrifying and daunting prospect.
But if not a bloodline heir, a moral heir could succeed her. Saloma? I wasn’t sure. But it couldn’t be me, could it?
OOO
Waking to the dawn air of the Rik Peninsula felt so different from the Arxon or Ikekane. Arxon temps never varied, and Ikekane was warmer and more humid. This air was crisp and chafed a little at the throat until warm Rik tea soothed it.
I glanced at my father over my mug of steaming liquid. “Should we wake him?” I asked, jerking my chin towards Dag’s tent.
He folded seasonings into the scrambled eggs over the fire. “Dag’s already up. I believe he’s using the facilities.” He said this with a twinkle in his eye.
“Did you show him where to… how?”
“Yes, but I don’t think he’s going to bathe in the stream.”
I gave him a withering look. “You’re scaring him. The water’s so cold in the mornings.”
Sloppy footsteps alerted us to Dag’s arrival, and he stumbled up, wrapped in his blanket. For a moment, he stared at me with a vacant expression, then dropped heavily onto the log that served as my chair.
“I honestly don’t know how you do this every day.” His voice sounded hoarse and more than a little grumpy.
“We don’t do it every day,” said my father. “When we have ample funds, we’ll rent rooms. It’s been a little tight lately.”
Dag’s face registered surprise. “Will the stuff you found on Tye help, Brita?”
“I hope so!” My mother’s head emerged from her tent, her hair braided though she did not have the gypsy curl to contend with. “What do you think? Do we have enough for a respite from living off the land?”
“Absolutely. If you have buyers lined up, we can house ourselves for a whole year.”
Three pairs of eyes turned on me.
“Why didn’t you say something before?” demanded Dag.
I chuckled and nudged him with my shoulder. “And have you miss out on this initiation?”
Dag glowered at me before giving in to a grin. “But now I’m sick,” he croaked.
“You’ve got morning voice. Totally normal.”
“I don’t know if I care for your idea of normal,” he said.
“I’m with Dag,” called my mother, disappearing back into her tent. “What are our prospects of packing up camp and moving to an inn?”
“After breakfast,” said my father with a pleasant sigh. “Here, Dag. Taste these and see if they don’t make up for some of your present discomforts.”
Dag received the tin plate of food between uncertain fingers, but as soon as he spooned some into his mouth, his eyes glowed with contentment. “Mr… Claus. I’ve never tasted anything so wonderful in all my life! Please tell me there’s more.”
My father chuckled and scraped the rest of the contents from his frying pan onto Dag’s plate. “Here. Eat as much as you want. If there are leftovers, Dulcea and Brita can fight over them.”
Dag’s mouth formed a tight O. “I don’t want to take food from the ladies.”
“Eat!” called my mother. “The sooner you finish, the sooner we pack, the sooner we go sit inside a nice, clean inn.”
Dag questioned me with his eyes.
“Eat!” I commanded with a laugh.
He wasted no time emptying his plate.
16 ~ Identity
Our plan was to use the currency I’d brought to rent a suite of rooms in one of the village inns for a week and use the time to make some sales. My mother counseled, and I agreed, we should save two of the vials of gypsy powder for personal and emergency situations. I offered to go into town alone to make the arrangements. There was no point in dragging all our gear with us until we knew there was a room available.
As I pulled on a thicker cloak against the morning chill, my mother grimaced. “Hair up, dear. And maybe a jacket instead?”
I hesitated. “Why?”
My father cleared his throat and stepped close enough to whisper. “I don’t know if it will be any safer, Dulcea.”
“Safer?” My voice pitched high enough to draw Dag’s attention. I hunched. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
My father sighed and dragged his fingers through his hair. “There’s been some… unrest in this area.”
My eyes flew to Dulcea. “Is someone after you?”
Her laugh held no humor.
Dag saw all this and joined us. We stood in a ring of silence while I waited for someone to speak.
“Is this about the gypsies attacking colonists?” asked Dag without accusation.
“No,” said my mother.
“Yes,” said my father.
My mother grunted and hugged herself. “It’s hard to know, sometimes.” She shrugged. “In some places, it’s safer to be a colonist, but in others, we have to hide Claus. Around here, we’re too close to the heart of the old Empire. I’m always afraid someone will recognize me.” She wore several bright, gauzy scarves twisted together and slung over her shoulder in a rope. This could either be a stationary fashion statement or a method of disguise if she pulled them free and wore them over her head as some gypsies did.
“So, should I be going into Finca as a stationary, or a gypsy?”
My mother’s eyes dropped, her indecision evident. My father tossed his hands in the air. “You’ve been all the way around the Granbo System and back. I guess we should trust your judgment.”
I stood contemplating my unique identity and appearance as my gaze traveled from face to face. “Here we are, representatives of the three primary groups in the system. Spacey, colonist, and gypsy.”
“And you as a hybrid,” added Dag.
“Right. And we all get along. Why can’t everyone?”
“Maybe we disagree too much on how we should live,” offered Dag.
I nodded at the insight but then dismissed it. “We may house ourselves or feed ourselves differently, but aren’t we the same at the core? Don’t we love our families? Don’t we want a measure of safety and security? The chance to find purpose and make a difference in our sphere of influence?”
My mother turned away from our group and lowered herself to one of the logs. “I think it’s about power.”
I scoffed. “What do you know about power? You threw it away.”
She nodded meekly. “You say I threw it away, but someone would have stolen
it from me eventually, along with my life.” Her eyes filled with fiery tears, and she looked at me squarely. “You never knew Levia. You don’t know how strong she was, how loved. But even she became a target once her power grew. Spaceys couldn’t abide her. She threatened their view of governance. That’s why they killed her.”
I swallowed, shocked. My mother had never before directly charged anyone for the murder of Levia. It had ever been implied, hinted.
My father’s hand traced a circle on my back. “Brita, she has a point. Some of the gypsies have grown tired of the treatment we receive and are fighting now for equal representation in the colonies, equal standing as citizens.”
“But we move around too much to—”
“To have needs? To have rights?”
I frowned. The concept of unity, a heritage of Levia, appealed to me, but I didn’t understand how violence could be the way to achieve it.
Frustrated, I snatched up my mother’s braid of scarves, tossing it over my own shoulder. I needed to walk out my thoughts alone. “I’ll be back within two hours,” I said.
“How are you going?” asked Dag. “Gypsy or—”
“I’m going as me,” I snapped. “Brita. The comet.”
I stormed off through the trees, wringing the braided scarves in my hands as I went. Feeling my unruly curls bounce at my shoulders, I stopped and wove my hair and the scarf rope into a wide knot on the top of my head. Perhaps I looked ridiculous, but I knew instinctively it suited my mood and my identity, lost between cultures, trying to tie them together.
The trees thinned, and eventually the line ended at the edge of a large pasture. Beyond the green, a fence marked where the transport road wound its way into the village a few hundred meters beyond.
As I approached the town, I saw an oval sign of carved wood welcoming travelers to Finca. Scrawled in blackened marks below were the letters GN. Upon closer examination, I saw they’d been burned into the wood.
Shuddering at the thought, I crossed the street to the inn. It stood between a public house for dining and drinking on one side and a general supply store on the other. A little further down, I could see the place from which we’d rented our transport.
