Preta finishes the rest of her meal and leans back in her chair. She rubs her belly as her head sways. Eyes drowsy, Preta, light-headed and tired, she’s drunk on food.
“No sleep yet, Preta,” Deet says, “go out back, and wash up then to the barn and bed.” Deet strokes Preta’s hair and stares at Agna. “Can you deal with this?”
“No problem,” Agna says.
Preta gives Edna and Rufus a kind smile. “It was great meeting you both, and the food was delicious, thank you.”
Edna smiles back. “You’re a sweet girl; it was very nice to meet you as well.”
Rufus raises his pipe and doesn’t turn away from the fireplace. “Get some sleep, and have a good night, all.”
Preta picks up her pack and follows Agna out the front door.
In the privy, Preta relaxes, releasing three days of burden, then she goes to the washhouse.
“Not yet, Preta, follow me,” Agna says.
Without thinking, Preta follows Agna to a lantern hanging from a metal post.
Agna twirls her finger in front of her. “Turn around.”
“Why?” Preta furrows her brow, unsure of what Agna want’s from her.
“Please, don’t give me a hard time; it’s late, and I’m tired, just do as I ask.”
“Fine, fine.” Preta turns, and Agna grabs a fistful of Preta’s hair at the base of her skull. She cuts through the tangled mess with scissors, jerking Preta’s head back and forth. “Ouch, hey, stop doing that, what are you doing?”
Agna lets out a faint chuckle. “What’s it feel like I’m doing? Now hold still, it’s got to be done.”
Preta’s face twists from the pain.
Done with her butchery, Agna pets Preta’s head. “All done.”
Preta strokes her head, hair cut down to a few inches long. “Done, or gone?”
Agna smiles. “Done. Now you can go to the washhouse.”
Preta pouts and mumbles swear words under her breath. Inside the washhouse, she tosses her clean clothes into the corner then prepares the buckets and sets them next to the trench. Preta peels off her dirty clothes and washes her grimy body. With her old clothes held out at arm’s length, she turns up her nose and exits the washhouse. “I think I need to burn these.”
Agna points at a dead tree, and next to it, a large wooden barrel labeled: Wash. “Scrub and rinse your clothes and hang them outside to dry.”
Agna goes into the washhouse and comes out as Preta finishes cleaning her clothes.
“Are you done and ready for bed?” Agna says.
“Am I ever.” She hangs her clothes over a whitewashed wooden fence and then goes inside the barn.
Agna points to a hay pile in the corner, and Preta lies on the straw bed.
She settles into her blanket, curls into a ball, and falls asleep.
REMINDERS OF HOME
“Time to get up,” Yaz says, shaking Preta’s arm.
Preta wakes, brushes the hay off her body, grabs her pack, and steps out of the barn. She yanks the semi-clean clothes off the fence and smells them. She twists her face from the rank odor. Preta takes another whiff and sneers back and forth between her clothes and her bag, trying to decide if it’s worth keeping them.
Yaz smacks Preta hard on her butt as he passes by. “Ha, they’re not gonna smell any better the second time, Sis. Put them in your pack and let’s go.”
Preta contorts her face, packs them, and heads to the cottage.
Inside, Deet is in deep conversation with Rufus about politics, and it appears one side convinced the other about something. Though who convinced whom, Preta can’t discern. She sits next to Yaz at the oak table and feels more human than any time in the past few days.
Edna carries a pot of porridge and blueberries and scoops it into a bowl in front of Preta. “How’d you sleep last night? Looks like your hair got attacked.”
“Well, other than that…” Preta sneers at Agna. “I slept very well, thank you.”
“It’s nice having kids in the house again—been a while since the two boys left.”
“Edna,” Deet says, “you’ll make these two never want to leave if you keep feeding them like this.”
At the same time, with mouths full of porridge, both Preta and Yaz suck air in and out, trying to cool the oats before swallowing.
Yaz mumbles, “Don-temp-me-rother.”
Preta swallows and brings her next spoonful up to her mouth and blows, cooling it off.
Yaz swallows and immediately replaces it with another steaming spoonful, disregarding the heat. He sucks in air in short snorts. Yaz gulps down a glass of milk to push down the hot oats.
Agna joins them at the table.
Preta scowls at the hair thief who violated her.
Agna winks at Preta and sticks out her tongue.
While putting another spoonful of oats in her mouth, Preta stares at Deet.
Deet raises his eyebrows and shrugs.
With empty bowl, and Preta not getting any sympathy for her loss, she gets up and goes outside for some fresh air.
Yaz follows her and belches while holding his stomach. He stretches his arms out high above his head and belches again. His eyes widen as something deep within his soul shakes him. “Hmm—I think I loosened something.” Yaz’s face twists, and he curls his lip as the sensation is realized. “Yup, definitely loosened, I’m going around back.” He scoots off in a funny, stiff-legged speed walk toward the privy.
Preta rolls her eyes as she sits on the stone cottage stoop leading away from the covered porch. Preta gazes into the field of wheat swaying in the gentle autumn morning breeze.
Agna steps out and sits next to her. “Sorry about your hair, but you need to be ready for what’s next.”
“Yeah, I know,” Preta says.
“Reminds me of home,” Agna says.
Preta flinches and shakes her head, lost in her thoughts and the scenery. “What did you say?”
“The field, it reminds me of home.”
“I was thinking the same thing. I almost forgot where we were.”
Agna places her hand on Preta’s knee. “I know you did, and I almost have to apologize for waking you.”
“Will you help us get through this?” Preta says.
“Of course I will. We’re in this together now, for better or worse.”
“I have to admit, it seems since you started helping me, only the worse finds us.”
“We all go through unexpected struggles, Preta. It’s easy to blame them on others instead of dealing with what’s placed in front of us. How we react and deal with the adversity is how we define ourselves and grow. It’s easy to give up and blame others for our troubles; and hard to look past the obvious and accept the situation for what it is and learn from it.”
Preta tilts her head trying to understand. “And I’ll be better without my family or home?”
“Of course you won’t. But you can’t bring them back and turn back time. All you can do is remember and honor their memory by dealing with the here and now. Go forward with your life. It’ll be hard; either you let these tragedies and hardships define you and allow them to take over, or you reflect, accept, remember the happy times, and persevere. That’s what Nala and Lurrus and your grandfather would’ve wanted for you.”
Preta blinks from the sun striking her eyes. “Will you teach me how to control and use the light?”
Agna smiles and pats Preta’s knee. “When the time’s right, you’ll learn all you need to know.”
“You say I have six brothers or sisters?”
“Maybe,” Agna says.
“So where are they now?”
“I only vaguely know. They’re scattered throughout Vetlinue. Though I do know that one lives north of Ardinia, and if you’re lucky you’ll meet him soon.”
“Him?” Preta says.
“Yes, your brother.”
“Why do you call him that? What is a seeros brother or sister?”
“Throughout Vetlinue, in some year
s during the seeros eclipse cycle occurring during the first month of each year, a magical cycle ends and begins. A cycle of six or more seeros children may be born in a year. Starting with two within the first four months of the year. No one knows who these children are until their thirteenth birthday. The seeros develop a mark like you have on your back. The mark is slightly different for all of your brothers and sisters and is determined by who’s born first in the cycle. Two seeros children are born every four months in that year. So all the children born in your year and who also have the same color aspect of light are your brothers and sisters.”
Preta nods as it sinks in. “Do they all have the same abilities as me?”
“Yes and no,” Agna says, rocking her head side to side. “All seeros have the basic ability. Though how each of you develop those abilities and who you come across over time to teach you is up to you and luck.”
“Where are your brothers and sisters?” Preta says.
“We’re going to Ardinia to meet one.”
“So he’s your seeros brother?”
Agna grins. “You can say that.”
Deet and Rufus exit the front door and pass by Preta and Agna.
“What are you girls conspiring about?” Deet says with hands on hips.
Agna stands up, placing her palm on the back of Preta’s head. “Just girl talk. Are we ready to go?”
“When Rufus is ready,” Deet says, looking around the property. “Where’s Yaz?”
“He’s around back,” Preta says. “I think in the privy.”
“Then maybe we’ll be a while.”
“Take your time,” Rufus says. “I’ll need a few minutes to get the carriage and horse ready anyway.” Rufus limps toward the barn in a slow stroll.
Preta places her hands on hips and stretches, rotating her waist and then her neck. She swings her arms back and forth then reaches up to the sky and yawns. “Thirty or so minutes to Bielston, he said?”
“There about,” Deet says.
“What are we going to do about coin and Lomasie?”
“Honestly, I’m more worried about the coin right now. Bielston is a city of at least fifty thousand souls; we should be able to blend in with the people. I imagine Lomasie’s men will be camped out at the docks, so we’ll avoid those as long as possible. Not sure about the coin though.” He glances at Agna. “Any chance your daughter can loan us what we need?”
Agna shrugs. “We can try. At this point, it’s the only option we’ve got.”
Yaz rounds the corner, a giant stupid grin on his face. He strides with wide legs. “Ah—much better now.” He thrusts his arms straight up to the sky. “Glorious, I’m a new man.”
Deet mockingly shakes his head and turns toward the barn. “Good to hear, new man, it took you long enough. Let’s get moving; Rufus is waiting.”
Yaz rests his forearm on Preta’s shoulder. He gives her a goofy smile and lightly taps her cheek.
Preta smiles back, then it fades. “Yaz?”
“Yes, what is it,” Yaz says, his brow raised.
“Did you wash your hands?”
Yaz giggles. “Hmm—uh—maybe.” He taps Preta on her cheek twice. “Maybe not!” Yaz leaps forward and skips toward the barn.
“Ew—gross.”
NOT WHO THEY SEEM
Rufus’s black covered carriage rattles over the rocky road to Bielston.
“I never thought I’d be so grateful to be riding in a carriage,” Preta says. She peeks through the back window. “I won’t take it for granted again, that’s for sure.”
The overcast sky hangs heavy with soot, making the sky black and purple in patches. Through the burning coal, Preta can make out the familiar scent of the sea.
Rufus lets out a single puff of air. “I just don’t know if he’s the best man for the job, Deet.”
“The other two guys sure in heck won’t get it done,” Deet says, “especially for lowering our taxes, and of course the conscription requirement, you know how it goes.”
“You don’t know that,” Rufus says with a skeptical head tilt, not convinced by Deet’s argument.
Yaz leans forward, brushing his chin on Deet’s shoulder. “I should run for office. I’d set them all straight. The people would love Yaz.”
Deet taps Yaz on the forehead. “Yeah, they’d run straight for your head.”
“Come on, I’d make a great rep, admit it. I would listen to the people and give them exactly what they want.”
“And how would you know what they want? You don’t even know where your own head is half the time, let alone anyone else's.”
Rufus sighs. “If it were only that simple, Yaz, my boy.”
Yaz leans back, placing his hands behind his head. “Well, I was just saying.”
Along the road, city and farm folk head toward Bielston. The traffic congests, and the carriage slows, making a sharp left.
Preta’s gaze shifts to the right.
A stone wall runs along a steep drop down to the sea.
All manner of steam and sailboats of varying sizes and shapes float in the port, some fishing and others carrying cargo. Wooden boats mixed with metal boats. Dotted between the sails, the sporadic billows of steam rise in linear columns, and giant ship paddle wheels churn through the sea.
“Dee, look at that one,” Preta says, pointing to a large black steamboat with a light-blue hull.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” Deet says, not looking or really caring, his mind still on politics.
Rufus laughs. “Never seen a steamboat? They’re becoming more prevalent. We get at least a few a week here in Bielston, exciting times we live in. Wait until you see the steam engine for the rail we’re building. Soon we’ll have tracks to all the cities and towns on Brenton. The world’s getting smaller fast.”
“It sure is,” Preta says, and she smiles, forgetting the last few days of madness and now enthralled with the newness of the moment.
Ahead, expansive city walls with ancient pockmarked turrets grow ever closer. A few large stone buildings rise one hundred-feet or more into the sky. Newer brick factories with tall red brick smokestacks intermingle with the buildings of old. Black clouds hover low as white clouds pass above.
Preta gazes with mouth open and eyes wide. “Whoa—those are big buildings.”
“I take it you’ve never been to Bielston, Preta?” Rufus says.
“No, sir.”
“Well, you haven’t seen anything yet then, exciting times ahead for you.” Rufus gazes up to the sky and sighs. “Oh, to be young again.”
“Where are the rails at?” Preta says, cranking her head around Deet sitting in the front seat. She scans the landscape through the window as she looks for any sign of tracks.
Rufus points to the left. “You can’t see them from here, they come out on the other side of the city. If what I’m being told is correct, the first connection should be complete within the month.”
The carriage comes to a halt forty feet from the entrance into the city. Ahead, carts, bicycles, and rickshaws stop in line.
“What now?” Deet says, uneasy from the hold-up.
“Checkpoint,” Rufus says.
“Is this normal?”
Rufus smiles and pats Deet’s shoulder. “No need for worry, friend, you’ll soon be on your way back home. This is just a routine stop.”
After ten minutes, the carriage reaches the ornately sculpted, twisted brass gate leading through the city walls and into Bielston.
Two guards stand on either side of the carriage.
The guards frown at Deet, then they focus on Rufus. “Sir, how are you today, vacation went well?”
“Good, good, men,” Rufus says, “fine day today. How’s the wife and kids?”
“Well as can be, but you know how that goes,” the boyish-faced guard says. “Thanks for asking.” He suspiciously eyes Deet again. “Is there any trouble?”
“No, no,” Rufus says, “just bringing my friends to the city, they’re from out of town—here
for the elections.”
“I see, well have a good day, sir, and you can count on my vote.”
“Keep up the good work, Senders, and I’ll take that vote. According to my friend here, I may need all I can get.”
The carriage passes through the city walls and travels on the main road past market shops and carts of merchants selling their wares. The eclectic mix of buildings, some sandstone while others cobblestone or brick, some new and others old and pitted, rise twenty to thirty feet high. After a few minutes, they come to a stop in a small square in front of a large grey stone building with white and black marble columns, silver leafing engraved into the bronze front door.
“This is beautiful,” Preta says, “I love it.” She fixates on the detailed sculptures surrounding the building. Stone men and women hold books and scrolls as they stand posed in stoic, scholarly positions. In the square’s center, a large water fountain. Formal men and women, musicians, sculpted in full regalia play instruments as water pours out the end of the horns to a pool below. Underneath the water’s surface, a mirror reflects the sky in a warped, wavy, altered state. “Wow.”
“This is our stop,” Rufus says. “I’ve got a meeting inside, so I say goodbye and good luck to you all. Enjoy your stay, Preta, it’s rare to experience things for the first time; savor it while it lasts.”
Deet tilts his head as he scans the building. “The magistrate’s office of Bielston.” His brow arches as he faces Rufus. “Rufus, Rufus Sotonus?”
“Yes, Deet Penter, it’s nice to make your acquaintance.”
“How come you didn’t tell me earlier?”
“You didn’t ask me earlier. Besides, I find I rarely get the truth of a man or his views when they know who I am.”
“Well, this is embarrassing,” Deet says, looking away from Rufus.
Rufus smiles. “Don’t be, it was good conversation and a pleasure to hear your opinions. I’ll take what you said to heart, though I have to go now, please excuse me.” Rufus climbs off the carriage, and a guard descends the stone stairs, meeting Rufus halfway. He pats the guard on the back. “Good morning, Zach,” then he climbs the stairs.
The guard Zach stops next to the carriage, and he grips the reins lying on the seat. He eyes Deet. “Good morning, sir.”
Wintermore (Aeon of Light Book 1) Page 23
