Mink delighted in the fact that he now got to share the journey with his best friend. The comraderie and levity made for a much improved state than sprinting on his own in a boost bar induced fervor. Mink traveled this route to the Capitol very regularly, but rarely without his family. It gave him reason to feel grown up and mometarily forget that he still had a couple of classes with five and six-year olds.
Around four-thirty of the second clock, just before midday, they crossed the border of Floth into the Rhocke Prefecture, Mink’s favorite leg of the journey. None of the Flothian architecture back home related to Water, despite Floth being the God of Water. The road maps of Floth resembled rivers and streams from an arial view, but the buildings were traditional octagonal shapes. The more interesting ones looked like eight-sided crystal clusters, jaunting angles radiating from a common base, and panels polished to glint in the sun.
The typical Flothian shades of green dividing sprawls of suburbia transitioned to the vibrant Rhockeine hills of the spice farms. Each ranch went to great lengths to impress passersby, or rather potential customers, by painting landscapes with brightly colored leaves and flowers that danced in the breeze. Every season became a new work of art, particularly during the blooming season of Roysive.
They decided to stop for a late lunch and mud application in Albus, the principle city of Rhocke. Nyam almost never stopped until she reached the Protallus Prefecture town where she grew up, so an authentic Rhockeine meal was a rare treat. Dreh pulled into a Wood Spa and got a recommendation for a local favorite eatery. They walked out their leg cramps, musing over the anti-corner architecture of the city. Every building, including the city’s towers, had been rounded to avoid any flat surfaces or edges. As such, this area paid greater homage to Water with flowing lines and wave-like entrances. Yet, Mink couldn’t decide if it was the look he yearned for in Floth.
“You sure you got this?” Dreh checked once they reached the restaurant.
“Absolutely. It’s what my dad would want.”
“Ah. Nice to know I’m getting some of my tax dollars back.”
The lunch was exquisite. Mink could never find anything so richly fragrant and deliciously sour back home. Heavy with portions of reptilian meat and steamed vegetable stalks, neither of them could finish their portions, but they kept trying. Once the waitress offered dessert, they gladly exchanged their plates for a crispy, warm cake made with sautéed fruit peelings and topped with cultured heavy cream. They left with full bellies for about the price of a drink in Floth.
Conversely, Mink underestimated how expensive the superior quality mud would be, and it more than made up for the cheap food. Natural Water was hard to come by on Georra and became more costly closer to farmland. As they headed back onto the main road, Mink hoped his dad would understand about financing this trip. Mink was supposed to be on his own with no need for mud. There wasn’t much he could do about that now.
Mink was slightly disappointed that the mud application they got in Albus lasted all the way through the Atriarb Prefecture. All of the Atriarban cities had been built away from national roads. From a distance they looked like pale forests. It had been nearly eight years since Mink had seen them up close. Most of the buildings were made to look like fat trees. All they really got to see up close of Atriarb were the backs of the industrial districts. Mink daydreamed about living in an Atriarban house where he got to crawl through a branch to go to his room, and look out through a matrix of leaf-shaped shade panels.
Dinner was obviously going to be somewhere in the Protallus Prefecture. Mink hoped that it wasn’t the same place he always ate with his mom. If the mud would just hold out a few extra hours, they could dine on herb and cheese laden root vegetables and braised meats while looking out at ancient castle cities, deep in the heart of the country.
THROUGHOUT THE night, Mink and Dreh became increasingly goofy. Their stops grew longer and they fought off sleep with kwona, a caffeinated drink made from roasted and ground seeds. This also made their stops more frequent. The light of the moons and castle cities outshone most of the stars, but the dense banding of the rest of the galaxy couldn’t be dampened.
The light of dawn on the citadels and castle cities only lasted for about an hour, but long enough to give Mink a sense of the ancient times when Octernal was still several divided countries. Times when most of Georra was under water and cities were islands. The last time a Tear of God sat in the Cradle.
They arrived within the borders of Protallus City very much a couple of youth on a road trip. Dreh showed the wear and tear of pulling an all-nighter at top speed. They had made seven mud stops, now finally arriving at the Main Cameral building. Mink thought it boded well that their destination should be the eighth stop, the Elementalists’ holy number.
“I can’t believe we made it,” he said, delirious from lack of sleep.
“Thanks, champ. I feel the love.”
They both laughed as Mink stretched his way off of the sled. “Oh,” he exhaled and arched his back. “I do not want to be here.”
“Duty calls, young man,” Dreh mocked.
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. You gonna be all right for a few hours?”
“Champion, I’ll be snoring in a mud bath at the spa.”
“What am I supposed to do after I’m done?”
Dreh pulled a smooth, flat piece of Wood out of his pocket. “When you’re ready for me, break this. I’ll meet you right here.”
Mink took the piece of Wood hesitantly. “How is this supposed to work? Some kind of an effect?”
“Fine. Don’t use it and just wait here until I get back.”
Mink put the Wood in his arm pocket. “Have a good nap.”
“Good luck with your secret mission.”
Dreh sped off, leaving Mink to complete the most nerve-wracking leg of his journey alone. He felt increasingly dirty and worn with each polished stone step he climbed. Would security recognize him as nephew to one of the most powerful men in the country? Or would they assume he was a homeless vagrant in search of a boiler room to sleep in? The whole concept of delivering the news of a Tear of God and protecting the future of his country felt so much larger than he could manage. His simple task of passing off the message crystal would be easier if he could just put all the grown-up stuff out of his mind.
Mink was humbled by the marble colonnade and gilded reliefs that loomed over the crystal doors leading into the Main Cameral building. There was no way on Georra a person such as himself, devoid of an Element, had the right to step through these doors which his parents had held open for him dozens of times. He decided that if security turned him away, he would find a secure place to leave the crystal at Uncle Durren’s house.
No alarm sounded when he entered. Mink stood in line without being escorted out, or asked to step aside. The stone and glasswork of the interior recalled the craftmanship of Elementalists thirty-six thousand years ago, when the Capitol was relocated to Protallus City from the ancient island of Stonecliff. They certainly didn’t make them like this anymore. What would the ancestors say about a descendant without an Element? Would he even have been allowed to live, let alone roam their royal halls?
Mink knew he had seen the guard at the gate several times before but could not recall his name. He simply gave Mink a big smile and handed him a visitor badge with blue clearance. Mink half expected it to be yanked back, meant for someone else.
“Good morning, Mink,” the guard spoke with a warm familiarity. “Would you like me to find your uncle for you?”
Surprised and relieved, Mink wished he could return the simple courtesy of calling him by his name. “No thanks, man. I’ll just see if he’s in his office and wait for him there.”
“If that’s what you want.” The guard leaned close, whispering, “You belong here, Mink. Don’t let this place get to you.” So he was a Spirit user. Useful for a guard, Mink supposed. It was kind of him to attempt to placate insecurities he had gleaned from Mink’s mind. With that, he straig
htened and waved the next person up.
Mink slid the pass over his jacket’s outer chest pocket and heard behind him, as he walked toward the hall to the left, “It’s Gumy, by the way. Don’t worry, I’ve never told you.” He wondered how Gumy managed to achieve Eavesdropping without being heard. Looking back at the clear crystal front door, Mink figured he chanted it while visitors climbed the steps outside.
The hall was a hub of activity. People garbed in clothes made from a variety of silks and skins of vibrant colors walked and talked with purpose. It was frowned upon to wear anything that bespoke of the wearer’s Elemental affinity, which suited Mink fine considering he wouldn’t have anything to wear. However, he felt that dressing according to status could be even more discriminatory. He couldn’t help but assume he knew all about these Octernalians from their overpriced suits and robes. He checked himself, lest another Spirit user Eavesdrop on his thoughts and mistake them for dissent. Instead, he focused on navigating the halls to Uncle Durren’s office, preparing to explain the purpose of his visit.
Once Mink located the proper wing, he knew exactly which door was his uncle’s. He entered the office and was greeted immediately by Huosh, Durren’s frazzled assistant. After a string of apologies and many beverage choices, Mink finally determined from him that his uncle hadn’t come in yet.
“That’s fine, really, Huosh. I’ll just wait for him here.”
“Are you sure? If I had known, I would have added it to his schedule yesterday and then he would have been here by now. I really should get you something while you wait. A Gleem? Are you drinking kwona yet?”
Mink figured that taking something would be the end of it. “A Gleem would be fine. Thanks.”
Huosh wasted no time producing a cold bottle of Gleem from the small fridge under a stack of binders. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have any clean glasses.”
“Bottle’s fine. I prefer it from the bottle.”
“That’s a relief. It’s a shame your parents couldn’t be here. Are they well?”
Mink just realized he had no idea how is parents were. He had last seen them almost two days ago. “They’re awesome,” he covered. “Busy. As usual.”
“Oh,” the assistant cooed, scuttling about with daily tasks.
Mink opened the bottle, thanked Huosh again, and drew a big swig of the flat, syrupy drink that his dad swore would ruin his teeth. It tasted vaguely of berries and spices, but the acidic aftertaste required a fresh application of drink to the tongue.
The heavy front door swung open and his Uncle Durren hurried in, bedecked in dark purple silks. He did a double-take halfway across the room. “Mink?”
“My father sent me.” Mink stood and took another nervous pull from the bottle.
“Great! Let’s talk in my office.” Durren stretched out an arm and led Mink through a private door.
DURREN’S JET black hair smoothed around his head and face in a very stately manner. Mink envied his uncle’s naturally brown skin and coal eyes, very masculine features which hadn’t failed to attract voters nine times running. Now those coal eyes peered at Mink with a twinkle that complimented his sparkling teeth.
“So, tell me,” his uncle said, sitting behind his massive Wood and crystal desk. “How did the tests go? What Element is it? Water? I’ve always said you were a Water user.”
Mink sank in his chair and relived the failure. “We still don’t know.”
Durren sat back with a furrowed brow. “Is this a joke? Those methods your parents developed proved flawless.”
“To be fair, we were interrupted on the second day.”
“Interrupted? How?”
Mink took out the pouch containting the crystal into which Juré recorded his report, and handed it to Durren. “For your hands only.”
Durren opened the pouch and dropped the crystal into his palm. He propped his feet up on his desk as he held the crystal firmly, absorbing the resonance of Juré’s report. Mink sat quietly, taking regular sips of his Gleem. The office was wallpapered with maps marked in ways that Mink couldn’t decipher. He recognized a few of the areas as his own city and prefecture. If there was any order to the binders, books, and crystals filling the shelves, Mink gave up trying to figure it out. After a while, Durren set the crystal on his desk and thoughtfully ran a finger along one of its facets.
At last, he addressed Mink. “We must present this to the Main Cameral’s High Council by way of proxy. Thurbst is the best choice. You have to make like he was the intended recipient of the report. He’s one of the good guys. You’ll like him.”
Mink was a little perturbed that his delivery was getting more complicated, but he knew never to second guess his uncle. “Sure. Okay.”
“We need to talk about this, but let’s do it in Thurbst’s office.”
Durren’s mood turned sullen in a way that brought dread to Mink. They both rose and Mink waited at the door. Durren opened it, cupping the back of Mink’s head with his hand.
“I’m very proud of you, Mink.”
“Thanks, Uncle Durren.” Mink wasn’t sure what his uncle was talking about, but he didn’t ask for clarification, because he wasn’t ready for it. On the way out to the hall, Mink saluted Housh with the nearly empty bottle.
Thurbt’s office ended up being in another wing of the building. From what little Mink knew, that indicated he represtented a distant area of the country, perhaps one Mink had yet to visit. When he and Durren arrived, Mink was surprised to see that the reception area looked exactly like his uncle’s, save for the assistant.
Thurbst leaned out of his private office and waved Mink and Durren in, shaking their hands as they passed him. Thurbst also wore his hair in the smooth way of a statesman. However, his plump features and marble-pattern suit made him less appealing in Mink’s opinion. Once he noticed that Thurbst also used powder to darken and dry his oily complexion, he lumped him in with all the politicians who tried too hard and did too little.
“Thurbst, I’d appreciate the honor of introducing you to my sister-nephew, Mink.” From the way Durren spoke, referencing the matriarchal title, Mink figured Thurbst was from somewhere up in the plainslands’ prefectures of the north.
“Mink, be my friend and call me ‘Thurbst.’” His thick accent, heavy on consonants, confirmed he was from the far north. Mink glanced at the maps on the wall. Millshur Prefecture. Yikes. Conservative to the point of fundamentalism.
Hoping he remembered his manners correctly, Mink extended his hand and said, “Thurbst, my friend, the honor is mine.”
Thurbst bowed and shook Mink’s hand warmly with both of his own. Mink patted the handshake with his free hand, as was the custom. He started to think that Thurbst should just take the rotten crystal, but stopped for fear that he might be a Spirit user.
“So, Durren. What’s eating at you to prompt such an early visit?”
“My sister-nephew brought a report from his father, who is an Intelligence Operative, and I think you should be the recipient and presenter of this information.”
“Why me?” Thurbst asked, intrigued.
Durren handed over the crystal. Thurbst held it and leaned his forehead in, indicating to the other two that he was concentrating on the frequency embedded in the crystal. He occassionally cocked his head from one side to the other. Eventually, Thurbst started to cry. Now Mink did want to know what his father said in the report. Thurbst wiped his eyes and stared at Mink quizzically. Mink returned his gaze for a couple seconds, but it became too uncomfortable and he had to look away. Finally, Thurbst tucked the crystal into his own leather pouch.
“Mink, my friend, you have honored your country more than it can repay you.”
Durren clapped Mink on the shoulder. “I take great pride in my sister-nephew. Will you be the presenter, Thurbst, my friend?”
“Yes, sir. It will be my great honor.”
“What do you think the split will be when it comes to the vote?” Durren asked.
“There aren’t enough isolati
onists to prevent a three-fourths in favor of taking some form of action. The struggle I see is keeping emotions in check so the majority action won’t be an all-out war.”
“I know what you mean. Please do the honor of making my sister-nephew available for questioning after you present. It could help our cause for maintaining the peace.”
Mink straightened nervously. He was prepared to answer a few questions from his uncle, but not in front of the High Council. Maybe he wouldn’t have to go to that party with Dreh after all.
“Certainly, my friend. It’ll take more to ensure peaceful action when a Tear of God is at stake. We must make a few bargains and trump up the scenario of war being brought to our borders. A war on Rift Ridge would be too costly on all levels. Priority one is to get the Tear of God across our borders and away from the Machinists. Then we can be fortified here and impervious to their attacks, as we were in the early years of our country.”
“Please excuse the interruption, huthph Thurbst,” Mink stammered, using the Smranksth word for friend to emphasize his respect. “Won’t all of that bargaining take too much time? Wouldn’t the Advocates see to do the right thing?”
Thurbst laughed longer and louder than Mink felt was necessary. He leaned close to Mink and whispered conspiratorially, “This is politics, my huthph boy. Right and wrong don’t have anything to do with it.”
THURBST AND Durren prattled on about their chamber strategy as Mink did his best to keep up. He found that Advocates’ offices held little to no lasting interest for regular people. When visiting with his family, Mink had always thought to bring along something to do. Without, he became painfully aware of how tedious and frustrating dealing with the politics of his country could be.
At last, the two statesmen left the private office, ushering him along. In the hall, they engaged in small talk about their families while Mink people-watched from a couple of paces behind. A courier zoomed by with the characteristic cracking sound of Flash Feet and Mink remembered Blin with a shudder.
Elements (Tear of God Book 1) Page 9
