by S.J. Drew
the city. After about an hour, they joined with a crowd of over three thousand people out in the open desert area just east of the city. A few clerics had taken the high ground and the sun was starting to set. The Head Priestess called for attention, and soon the ceremony started.
Eliora said the words, but was not playing attention. She knew the words by heart, having attending such ceremonies since she was old enough to remember. It was the same every year. The clerics called for praise to the Light One and for blessings as the sunlight started to grow again. Not for the first time, she found herself wondering what the clerics of the Dark One did on this day. It was the longest night of the year, so she was sure they must have some sort of ceremony. She thought they must be up to no good, and turned her mind to the strange daydream she had earlier that day. The ceremony ended with the ritual lighting of candles. It was now fully dark, there was no moon, and it was bitter cold.
When the family returned home, the twins were immediately put to bed while the daughters started to clean up the kitchen. Lior tidied up the sitting area. The winter solstice was considered a day of quiet contemplation, so the older family members stayed up and recounted their blessings, mourned the ones who had been lost, and discussed goals for the coming year. Meorah and Oriel soon went to bed, leaving Eliora and her parents.
"You've been quiet tonight, my daughter," commented Lior.
"You've hardly said a thing about your day, and you weren't paying attention at the ceremony," added Adiva.
"What's wrong? Normally you're so cheerful," he said.
"I'm sorry." She sighed. "I almost got written up today."
"What? Why?" responded Lior immediately.
"I wasn't paying enough attention to the minutes, and I knocked over my ink bottle," she answered.
Adiva's brow furrowed slightly.
"My daughter," her father sighed. "You must stop being so absent-minded. You enjoy the work, and you work so hard when you set your mind to it."
"I'm sorry, Father. Izak scolded me thoroughly. I won't do it again."
"That's good." He yawned.
"You should go to bed, beloved," offered Adiva affectionately. "You've had a long day."
"I have indeed." He kissed his wife gently, and then went upstairs.
"I should go to bed, too, Mother," said Eliora, starting to stand up.
"We talk first," she replied sternly.
Eliora sat back down on the pillows.
"You never could lie to me. What really happened today that's gotten you so upset?"
"Well, I did nearly get written up. And I wasn't paying attention."
The older woman waited patiently.
"I started to daydream. But it was strange. I've never experienced anything like it. It was so intense, so real."
"Tell me."
"I was out in the open desert by myself, but still in my work clothes. I called out, but no one was around. It was so real, Mother. I even sat down and started to think about where I could find water. Then the dune started to shake, and I tried to get away, but as I got to the bottom, I felt the dune slip. The whole mountain of sand just poured down on top of me. I felt like I was suffocating. I cried out. Then I woke up and realized all the Councilors were staring at me."
"Goodness," she replied. "That does sound very odd. I know you have active imagination, but that doesn't sound like a normal dream at all."
"I know. I wish I hadn't reacted to it so badly."
Adiva looked disturbed. "That's what you were thinking about during the ceremony?"
She nodded.
Adiva lowered her voice. "I know I'm not a priestess, but I think you may have received some sort of vision."
"A vision of what?" Eliora asked, keeping her voice low as well.
She shook her head. "I don't know. But having such an intense experience on the solstice, even if it was the winter solstice seems significant. Perhaps you should pray for guidance from the Light One."
"I'm not sure the clerics would take this too well," Eliora replied.
"I don't mean to go the clerics. You are right in that you probably shouldn't mention it to them. In fact, don't even mention this to anyone else. I'll tell your father. But I think going to a temple and praying on your own can't hurt."
"Yes, Mother. But even if the Light One answers, what will that answer mean to me? Its guidance is not always clear."
"Then you talk to me," she answered firmly. "Go to the temple tomorrow after work."
"Tomorrow? You really think this is that significant?"
"Well, my daughter, it never hurts to be sure. Remember to stop by the message office. I'm expecting a letter from your grandparents. Also remember to stop at the bazaar for some more lamp oil."
"I'm going out with Ofira tomorrow night. Can't it wait?"
"Eliora, this is the third time this week I've reminded you to do that. No, it can't wait. Now, off to bed with both of us. It's late, and the last thing you need is to be sleepy tomorrow."
"Yes, Mother," Eliora replied contritely. She went upstairs to her tiny room while her mother locked down the house. She stared up at the ceiling for a long time before she fell asleep.
On the other side of the world, it was a hot summer afternoon in Renfrew. The city-state of fifty thousand was located not too far from the Snowcap Mountains, but it was still stiflingly warm and too humid. A young man in his early twenties emerged from the steamy kitchen of a shabby tavern called the Boar's Head. He had straw blond hair tied back in a ponytail, ice blue eyes, and a light complexion. He was quickly joined by another young man who was a few years older but unmistakably related. His hair was a darker blond, his eyes were a darker blue, he was a bit taller, not quite as wiry, and better looking.
"Are you feelin' alright, little brother?" asked the larger man affectionately. His voice had a lazy drawl.
He was pulling his long-sleeved button-up shirt back and forth in an effort to fan himself. "Sorry, Alain, but I had to get out of that damned kitchen. Days like this I think I'm goin' to die in there. Too much heat and too much steam," answered the younger man, sitting down on one of the empty crates. His voice carried the same accent.
"I know what you mean. It is awful damn hot today. Maybe it'll rain soon. But we've got to finish up the lunch dishes or we're goin' to get in trouble. You know that."
The younger one sighed. "I know that. I hate this job, you know."
"I know, Donnan, I know. But it's the best we can do right now. Come on. It's only a few more, and then we can get lunch."
"We're eatin' out here. It's cooler than in there."
"I guess so." He gently dragged his younger brother inside. When they finished the pile of dishes, Alain got a hunk of bread and some cheese for their lunch. They ate on the crates out back, deliberately hidden from the view of the customers or the street passerby. Then they went back to work.
"It's so hot. Why don't we start with cleanin' the tables out front?" suggested Alain. "We can stay out of the kitchen longer."
The younger man nodded. They got some cleaning rags and went outside to the front of the tavern, where there were a few tables set up for the warm months. They were wiping these off and chatting amiably when Donnan suddenly went silent. Five women of various ages, carrying books in their arms and leather bags over their shoulders, were walking by having an animated conversation. He was staring at a woman in a short-sleeved, ankle-length, simple lavender dress. Her hair was strawberry blond, waist-length and curly, bound in a ponytail. She was about his age, and very pretty. He watched her until she turned a corner and was out of sight.
Alain chuckled softly. "You know you've got no chance with Aolani."
"What?" he replied, startled. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"
"You've got no chance with her. She's got everythin'. She's beautiful. She's educated. She's the mayor's daughter and a teacher. You've got no chance."
"I do
n't know what you're talkin' about."
"You're not foolin' me. Every time she walks by you just stare, like a puppy. It's so cute."
"Oh, shut up," Donnan replied crossly. "I'll be she's as stuck up and snotty as the rest of those rich people. I'll bet she doesn't even know taverns have dishwashers, much less ever talk to them."
"Oh, absolutely," agreed Alain amiably. "Which is why you keep starin'."
He glared at his older brother. "How come you're always makin' fun of me?"
"'Cause I can. Now come on. We've got work to do."
"We've always got work to do," Donnan muttered darkly. "Why bother?" They finished outside and started work on the empty common room. He scrubbed down tables while Alain swept the floor.
"We've got to eat."
"Right. That." Donnan looked around and lowered his voice. "Darris doesn't pay us half of what we're worth."
"I know. I'm goin' try to join the guard again in a month."
"Well, that means you can quit this lousy job. And I won't have to help you with sword practice any more."
"Practice is good for you, little brother. Gets you outside. Gets you to work out. Gets you away from those books."
"I like books," Donnan protested.
"If I get into the guard, you can try to get a job workin' at a better place. Maybe you can try to get a job at the school or somethin'."
"That'd be great, but it won't happen. We aren't the right kind of people."
Alain sighed. "The guard can't keep turnin' me down if I can beat their own people."
At that moment a customer entered the tavern, so they ended their conversation. The dinner crowd came
