by T B Phillips
“Braston.” Something in the shopkeeper’s voice had changed. It softened.
“Yes?” The captain turned to see an outstretched hand and reached out his own to grasp it.
“The name’s Ralphe Station.” With their forearms clasped in the northern custom the businessman added, “Good luck with your endeavor. It’s monumental.”
Braen nodded, then picked up his broom and walked up the hill to the palace. We’ll change this world. One person at a time, if necessary, but we will change it.
Hours later Braston had washed up and dressed in his finest. The christening would be a formal event, symbolic of rebuilding efforts. As he buttoned his coat, he murmured his complaint to Samani Kernigan. “Does this uniform have to be so stiff in the collar? How in the name of Cinder am I supposed to fight in this thing?”
“You don’t.” Samani laughed at the Northman’s lack of refinement. “Rulers let others do their fighting.” The man from Astia had made himself comfortable in a soft chair and helped himself to a bottle of wine.
“I’m not a legitimate ruler, yet.”
“You will be.”
“I don’t know.” Braen paused to form the words that had been troubling him. “Adamas Creech has been campaigning hard against us. He appears to have the merchant and tavern guilds in his pocket.”
Kernigan let out a long sigh before drinking from his glass. “I told you to let me handle the elections. Don’t stress yourself over the details.”
“What you’re planning feels wrong, Sam. I want the people to own this decision.” A previous conversation troubled him. “Besides, I promised Eusari that she would be elected by the will of the people. That we wouldn’t interfere with the process.”
“Speaking of Eusari, She Wolf arrived an hour ago. That’s the reason I called on you.”
“I thought you made yourself comfortable for my wine.” Braen felt excitement fill his heart. He had not seen his lover in several weeks and yearned to wrap her in his arms.
“Well, that was the reason I came in person. I wanted to see if you had any more bottles of the 754 red.”
The bearded captain paused in buttoning his jacket and raised an eyebrow. “If I did, then you can bet that they’re hidden from the likes of your bottomless gullet.” He looked at his friend questioningly in the mirror. “Who told you I had that vintage?”
“Amash bragged to me that he once cracked open a case with you and Sippen.” He sighed again. “Alas, we were not friends, then, and you still doubted my loyalties.”
Braen chuckled and straightened up his jacket. “How do you know that I don’t?”
“Because you still have questions for which I, alone, have answers.” Samani rose from the chair and made for the door, pausing only long enough to pick up the bottle of wine. “Let’s go. Sippen told me not to allow you to lag behind. He said that you’ll talk to everyone in town between the palace and the docks if I don’t escort you.”
“I swear, sometimes he’s more of a nursemaid than a confidant.” But Braen knew that his little friend was right and allowed Samani to lead him to the docks. Along the way his thoughts turned back to Eusari.
There was a time when Braen agonized with yearning for a different woman. He had dreamt nightly of Hester, his childhood friend and once betrothed. His brother, Skander, had forced her into marriage as a statement to an exiled Braen. She was an unwitting pawn in a trap to lure the legitimate ruler out of hiding and into death.
Eusari Thorinson had completely replaced thoughts of Hester over the past months. She was a beautiful and delightfully complex woman, although deeply troubled. At first, she had confused Braen for Skander and focused her revenge on the wrong Braston. Artema Horn had used her to deliver the prince, beaten and drugged, to the usurper from Fjorik. But she had realized her mistake at the last moment and they escaped. Since that night in Estowen’s Landing the pair had become friends and eventually lovers.
Their walk took the two men past the storefront Braen had cleaned earlier that morning. The sight of a little girl playing on the porch made the captain pause. Little Charleigh had bright round eyes that matched her chestnut hair. When she recognized the bearded man, her eyes filled with shock and Braston’s heart sank as he imagined her drowning in the mud. She fears me. He felt his feet freeze on the street, unable to move another step. What am I doing, he thought, Am I going to try and apologize to her? Why am I stopping?
The door to the shop opened and Ralphe Station emerged with his wife. The bald shopkeeper wore a reassuring smile that contrasted the woman’s apprehension. Braen felt his feet take over as they led him toward the shop. Samani let out an irritated sigh which was ignored.
“Captain Braston, I want you to meet my wife, Sofie, and our daughter, Charleigh.”
Braen nodded a greeting to Sofie who eyed him nervously. “Pleased to meet you, Ma’am.” The child stared up with confusion on her face. He knelt before her with a tender smile. “Hello, Charleigh.”
She looked up at her parents questioningly and they both nodded that it was okay to speak with the stranger. When she answered it was with confidence, “Hello.”
“Do you know who I am, Charleigh?”
“Yes. You are the man who made the wave come.” He had been wrong in his earlier assumption. The child was not afraid.
“I’m sorry that you were hurt when that happened. I understand that you were trapped and afraid.”
She nodded, looking down at her doll. “I was, but then the woman found me.”
“What woman was that, Charleigh?”
“The lady with black gloves.”
“Captain Eusari?”
She shrugged. “I guess. Her doggy found me, and she dug me out. I never got to thank her.”
Braen addressed the girl’s parents. “We are on our way to the christening of the new ship and Eusari will be there. Why don’t you come along as my guests so that Charleigh can meet her?”
Ralphe let out a chuckle. “Guests of the Kraken King, himself. You don’t get an invitation like that every day.” After a nod from his wife he added, “We’ll be there.”
Braen turned to Samani who anxiously glanced at the sun. It had risen to midday and they were holding up the ceremony. Kernigan waited until they were out of earshot when he whispered, “Next time we’re taking a carriage, Braston.”
Chapter Six
Fatwana watched from the doorway as the initiates loaded her single bag. She eyed the car with lonesome dread, afraid to leave her coven. She never liked traveling, especially for the kind of business that the council demanded. Worse, whenever she journeyed on the government’s purse, it made her feel ostentatious. Such waste, she thought, embarrassed that the rest of the coven would see her step into such a luxurious coach.
It was sleek and shiny, one of the new models that could run on electricity. That technology had been lost to the people of Astia for so long, much of their power grid still affected by the instability in the atmosphere. She marveled to see such an advancement so far from the capital and wondered briefly if it was new to the Oslot constabulary. Shrugging she guessed that she would know soon enough.
Rain drizzled down, soaking the ground and dampening her mood. It added to her disdain for travel. Thankfully the trip would not take long. After boarding the train in Oslot, the ride would only take a few hours to the capital city of Bergin. She drew a deep breath and then stepped out into the rain.
Subba held a parasol and somehow managed to keep her partially dry as one of the initiates opened the door. He then rushed around to the other side, sliding in next to the driver. “I hope that you’re not too soaked, lead sister.”
“I’m fine, thank you for asking.” Fatwana liked the oracle with whom she had chosen to travel, although it should have been Adelina’s duty. She had disappeared and no one had seen her since Fatwana ordered confinement. It wasn’t ofte
n that anyone left the coven, although some occasionally did. The grief over Kalani must have been too much for the girl to bear.
But her replacement was trustworthy and would be a pleasant companion if boredom struck. Thinking of the girl brought a thought to her mind “Subba, has there been any word from Adelina?”
“No, sister. Nothing.”
“And no one saw her leave?”
“No one. Kareshi brought food to her cell after dinner, but she wasn’t there.”
The wind picked up and a downburst of cold rain pummeled the windshield. She shivered at the thought of the girl wandering alone down the mountain. “Strange that she didn’t swap out her robes for heavy wool.”
“Yes, sister. Several of us searched outside but found no sign of her. Though it’s possible that she made it down, I fear...”
Fatwana turned and looked at the man, always sweet and kind to his peers. “You fear what?”
His eyes pointed to the floor and his expression dimmed. “I fear that she is still inside the coven and that we will find her, eventually.”
Fatwana nodded. “Sometimes grief makes us act foolishly.”
“Surely she wouldn’t.” Confusion covered his face. “Not if it meant losing her chance to join him in transcendence.”
Fatwana’s voice turned motherly. “Why did you join the Oracle, Subba?”
“Because I yearn to transcend. When I was young and first heard the priests talk about afterlife, I set my life on that journey. After they tested me and I learned that my soul showed promise, I left immediately for a coven.”
“Does it worry you that there is no afterlife for the family you left behind?”
“Of course. That’s why I said my goodbyes before leaving.” His eyes betrayed distant homesickness.
“Then you won’t miss them after you transcend?”
“Well, yes. I suppose that I will.” He seemed thoughtful, speaking from his heart.
Most oracles would have lied, she observed. Honesty was another trait that she liked about the man and wondered about herself. How would you have answered? After clearing her throat, she gave him truth of her own. “I lost my sister, Ashima, recently.
“Yes, lead sister. I remember.”
“But before that I lost my brother.” Her kind smile dropped when she spoke of Samani.
“Did he transcend, as well?”
“No. He chose to leave the Oracle.” Fatwana paused to let the words sink in. Subba looked astonished. “But I have learned that he finally found a new home.”
“Another oracle?”
“No. He joined the Humanitarian Freedom Society. You see, sometimes people will give up everything they have for something they suddenly believe they need.”
All color left the man’s face. “What would someone choose over transcending?”
Fatwana fell silent, staring at the raindrops on the window. She felt his staring eyes, large with disbelief and waiting. Unable to speak honestly, she chose to watch scenery.
After a while the terrain flattened. Forest turned into cultivated farmland and soon rows of tiny buildings dotted the landscape. One large building stood in the center of smaller houses and each of the communes were identical, save the numbers painted on the side of the central building. Normally Fatwana would have observed a flourish of activity in the compounds, but the rain had driven the workers inside.
Subba finally broke the silence. “Compounds thirty-two and thirty-three are without power.”
Fatwana looked out the passenger window and saw that he spoke true. “I have heard that’s happening more frequently as the cities draw more.”
“It seems strange, since the electricity is farmed here.”
She looked up at the tall windmills spinning in the storm. “It’s collected here, but the distribution center is in Oslot. The cities get priority and so they randomly roll blackouts in the rural areas.”
Subba nodded. “I wish there was a way we could harness more energy by means other than wind and water, perhaps from the sun?”
She shook her head. “I read that there was a time that was possible in ancient times. Unfortunately, that technology and many others were lost during the dark age. Some say that the ancients could fly across the sky and even to the moon, but I doubt that was true.” The look on the oracle’s face reflected amazement. “Subba, do you know what the oracle beads are?”
“Yes, lead sister. Every initiate knows. They are the essence of foresight and seeing. They allow us to know and anticipate the world’s problems while watching over the Andalonians. To prevent the birth of the Destroyer who will kill us all and tear down our cities.”
“And who can use the beads?”
Subba looked troubled, as if she tested him. “Only the worthy.”
“And who are the worthy?”
“Astian people with a soul capable of transcending planes.”
“To where, Subba.”
“To the Collective Soul, lead sister.” He pointed toward compound fifty as they drove by. “Just as the people of Astia work as a collective, so do the oracles lucky enough to transcend.”
Fatwana nodded and smiled with motherly praise. At this Subba lit up and beamed, assuming he had passed her exam. Haven’t you ever wondered where they come from, Subba? But she couldn’t ask that question, not with a government driver at the wheel. She watched the young man with his idealistic dream of transcending. He’s too brainwashed like the others, she thought, just like I have been. But that was the way with the Oracles. We’re promised a heavenly paradise for our ultimate sacrifice. Although lately, she doubted that martyrdom was worth the price.
They rode in silence the rest of the way and her mind mulled a conversation with Samani from their youth. His voice resonated in her head, deepening the lines in her face. “The people in Andalon are human like us, Fatwana!”
“No, Sam. They’re monsters with powers to destroy instead of build.” Her younger self had argued. “That is why our ancestors keep them across the water.”
“But how did they get the powers in the first place?”
“I don’t want to get into that.”
“Because you don’t want to admit that our ancestors made them when they first experimented with foresight.”
“That’s preposterous. You can’t ‘make’ someone.”
“So, you admit that they are someone and I win the argument. They are people, simple as that.”
“You twisted my words!” Her younger self had often been frustrated with his ability to turn debates to his favor. Her little brother was a master manipulator.
But then Ashima had spoken up and the older siblings quieted to hear their baby sister, intelligent and wise for her years, “I read that our ancestors did create them. That’s why the practice of life science is forbidden by anyone working outside of the government and without permits.”
“How?”
“Something to do with traits. Like the color of eyes or hair. Sometimes a redheaded mother will have a baby with raven hair. The same thing with foresight. If you are born with the ability to see, even a little bit, and mate with another with that same trait, then their child could be strong.” The other siblings laughed at the thought of people making babies in the name of science.
“That sounds like a fun experiment I’d like to participate in.” The teenage Samani was thinking about the sexual act, of course.
Fatwana still had her doubts, “Why did they move them across the water, then?”
Samani answered, “That’s what I’ve been trying to say. The experiment backfired, and, in addition to foresight, they created other abilities. People emerged with powers over living things and even the wind and water, as well.”
“Then why didn’t they just kill them?”
Ashima spoke, again. “Because you can’t just kill someone out of fe
ar.”
“Well then they should have sterilized them and let them die out.” Her attention returned to the present as they approached the outskirts of Oslot. She and her sister had never figured out the answer to that question, never speaking further of why the Andalonian people were kept alive. It was enough for them that they were controlled by measures taken by the council and closely monitored by the oracles.
She thought about the black bead she had left on the oracle room floor the day before. We need them alive to farm the essence of the bead. But you figured that out, didn’t you, Samani? That’s why you left and joined The Society. You wanted to prove that you were right.
The city of Oslot starkly contrasted both the Winter Oracle and the communes they passed on the drive. Tall buildings flanked the road and everywhere people scurried to their assignments. Seems we arrived at shift change, she observed. The driver had to stop and wait as a mass of people crossed the road from the apartments, hurrying to the factories and bakeries.
Fatwana watched them closely as they passed, engaged in friendly conversation and occasionally smiling. Before he left, Samani had told her that the Astian people were not free. That they were slaves without collars working for the collective. At the time she had argued back that the collective ensured equality, providing for all so that none lived in poverty. But how is wealth measured? I own nothing but these robes and the hope of transcending. Would owning more make me happy?
These people possessed little more than she. Their clothing was simple, made from materials farmed in the communes. Their homes were just as sparse, with furniture enough for necessity, but nothing more. Her thoughts wandered to the ring that Adaline had given to Kalani. A simple token, but one that had most likely been hidden and passed through her family for generations. She wondered what the priests had done with the bauble when they disposed of the husk.
The crowd finally parted, and they again moved through the city, leaving behind the third ward and the industrial quarter. As they drove, they briefly passed the second ward where the educated classes lived. If one was lucky enough, they were chosen from the schools to receive higher education and assigned this ward. Ashima could have easily been promoted, but she happily took assignment to the same oracle as her siblings and shared their eagerness to transcend.
