Polandra eyed the few people who’d gathered along the perimeter of the square. If any of those watching bother you or Mia, let me know.
They are merely curious, though not as much as days gone by.
Even so.
Ikan chirped and lay down next to Mia. As you wish.
“Alright, back to our original destination.” Polandra took Liara’s hand and headed for the north archway leading inside.
As they left the heat of the square, she said. “The boy was nice.”
Liara nodded, but added nothing further.
There were fewer and fewer people in the hallways as Polandra led them to some lesser-traveled areas. Her destination was high on the east end of the sprawling structure, inside the hills and tall rocky formation that formed part of the walls of that side of Bataan-Mok.
At the doorway before the stairwell, she nodded in passing to the two guards, who glanced at her uniform, then at the pin on her collar, and saluted.
“I used to come up here every now and again,” Polandra said as they climbed the stairs. “I think you’ll like it.”
A sconce on the wall at each landing lit their way, but when they reached the top, she gave Liara’s hand a gentle squeeze and led her out of the stairwell into darkness.
It was very quiet, and aside from the light spilling out from the stairwell, an inky gloom surrounded them. Even so, the sense of a large space was strong. Whether that was because she knew what yet remained hidden or not, Polandra wasn’t sure.
She reached to the left, found the small metal plate mounted near the doorway, and pressed the top stud.
Light shields slid open on sconces along the walls to the left and right. The released light revealed an immense space. Ten feet before them, a fence of sorts enchanted from the stone floor ran across the entire room. On the right, beyond that barrier, twelve more sconces glowed along the side wall. Their light reflected from the surface of an enormous pool.
“Is that . . . water?”
Polandra smiled and nodded. “It is. This cistern provides the water for Bataan-Mok.” She pointed to a large pipe that extended out from the back wall and opened over the pool. “Once or twice a day, pumps pull water from a deep well. It exits there like a big waterfall.”
She headed to the right. “The place I’m thinking of is over this way.”
Just past the fence, a ladder led to a catwalk. She and Liara hopped over the fence and walked to it.
Liara looked up at the walkway above. “What’s that for?”
“All the sconces need to have their lightglobes replaced periodically. As a crusan, I was part of that work detail more than once.” She pointed. “The catwalk allows access to those globes over the cistern.”
With a smile, she grabbed onto the ladder. “It also lets you see more of the water. Come.”
The catwalk, a small ledge enchanted from the stone of the wall, was sturdy, though narrow. Liara kept one hand on the wall as she followed behind.
Polandra stopped about halfway down the right wall of the large cistern room, in front of a ragged opening. Through it, a rough, narrow passage led eventually to the outside. Though, it did so by way of a very tall, chimney-like shaft at the end of the passage.
Turning to face the water, Polandra sat, legs dangling over the edge of the catwalk. Liara sat to her left.
“While I was in the manisi,” Polandra said quietly, “learning as much about them as I could before meeting with Ikan and Itzel, there were many times I became troubled or angry with the things I discovered the Order was doing. I remembered working in this place years prior, the calm and almost serene atmosphere it has, and took refuge here a few times.”
She stared down at the large expanse of water. It reflected the room like a dark mirror. “Watching the water, its stillness, always relaxes me.”
“It’s pretty.”
They sat there for a while in quiet contemplation. Eventually, however, Polandra’s curiosity about Liara’s earlier reaction made her speak up.
“So.” She looked at Liara. “Benji.”
Liara’s jaws worked a moment. Still staring out at the water, she said, “I have a brother. He’s a year younger than me.” She let out a short laugh. “He is such an enormous pain in the ass, but I love him dearly.” She glanced at Polandra, a shimmer in her eyes, then glanced back at the water. “Benji looks so much like him when he was that age.”
Polandra raised her brows. Did her brother die? No, she’d not used the past tense when talking about him.
Liara stared at the water. “How can people be that way? Benji is such a beautiful, precious boy. Did you see the way he—” Liara’s voice cracked and she paused, closing her eyes. After taking a deep breath, she let it out. “How could anyone have threatened, even contemplated, killing him?”
She shook her head. “And that jackass Egg was proud—proud!—that he killed one of the marble shipment drivers. How can people have so little concern for the lives of others, so little concern about snuffing something out that can never, ever, exist again.”
A tear ran down her cheek. “I just . . . don’t understand.”
Polandra took Liara in her arms. “You beautiful, beautiful girl.” She felt arms wrap around her.
Mia has tried to help her, but she is too sad.
I think I know what’s wrong.
Polandra hugged Liara. “Sweetheart, there are many things about this world we may never understand. People, especially. Just remember that we saved Benji, and we’ll continue to do all we can to help those in need.”
She felt Liara nod.
“You have an enormous, beautiful heart.” She released Liara and lifted her face by her chin. “Please don’t lose that.”
Liara, eyes red and lashes wet, said, “I’m not a ‘girl,’ you know. I’m a woman.”
Polandra chuckled. “True enough, but I’ll always think of you as my beautiful girl.”
Liara blinked. “Well . . .” She wiped her cheeks and sniffled. “T–That’s okay then, I guess.”
Thank you! She feels better, now.
You’re welcome, Mia. We both have to take care of our girl, right?
Right!
They stared out at the still water for a few minutes, before Polandra turned to her again. “Speaking of that Egg fellow, were you able to learn anything from him?”
Liara made a rude noise. “We did learn that he was taking orders from Fala, but not much else.”
Polandra grunted. “Fala is involved?”
“Yes. And sadly, we couldn’t learn her whereabouts. Egg first met her in a small village after one of those speeches she used to give in them, but they never saw each other again. He only ever received instructions via messages delivered to him by different people.”
“What was the plan for the quarry?”
“To slow or stop the marble shipments. He was working alone, fortunately, so we shouldn’t have any more accidents there. Unfortunately, he apparently knows nothing about Fala’s other plans.”
Polandra raised her brows. “She has other plans?”
“Egg’s thoughts were filled with the idea of other plans in motion, though there were no specifics, and the way he worded things, too, implied more things in play.”
Polandra turned to the water and frowned. “Should we talk with Yiska? Fala used to work with him. Perhaps he has some ideas about what she might be up to.”
“I already spoke with him. He was sad to learn that she was behind the events at the quarry. She wasn’t ever one to take charge like this, he said, so there’s no telling what she might be doing. He’s trying to find out what he can through his own contacts. Isandath is helping, too. He has the Observers looking out for her and keeping an ear open, so to speak, to see what they can learn of her whereabouts.”
Polandra frowned. After that day in Daelon’s Plaza, Fala never showed her face inside Bataan-Mok again. They’d heard about the woman occasionally giving anti-dragon speeches in the villages and even outsi
de the gates of Bataan-Mok, but to go this far? To kill people? What was she thinking? What was she planning next? Were others working with her, besides Egg? And as she was no longer part of the Order, was no longer part of the transition organization, how was she getting funds for supplies, food, water, and such?
She glanced at Liara. “Make sure you keep me briefed on your progress. I don’t like that she has other plans.”
Liara nodded. “I will. I was going to tell you all about it at lunch. And speaking of which,” Liara put an arm around her and hugged, “how about you introduce me to another strange, tasty dish today.”
Despite her apprehension about Fala, Polandra smiled. She put an arm around Liara and hugged back. “Have you ever had rattlesnake?”
+ + + + +
“Hurry it up, Terry.”
Chanté looked at Korrie, who was staring down into the sump where the boy crouched, digging up something.
The four of them, including Quillan, had drain cleaning duty this morning—clearing the storm drain sump in the courtyards of dragonlinked suites. Four people, four courtyards. The recent heavy rain had apparently been cause for the change in chores. They decided to share out the shoveling, so each would only have to do it once. Terry was first to work in the gravel and still wet mud.
When Chanté had first arrived at the guild, the chores had felt like a kind of necessary evil. Lately, though, he was finding that he didn’t mind them so much.
“Hang on,” Terry said. “There’s something buried in here.” He dug some more. “Hey, this looks like—it is!” The item in his hand, he stood suddenly and slipped. “Aargh!”
“Are you okay?” Korrie jumped down into the drainage chamber—she landed on an area with less mud and better footing—and looked him over.
He stood up, pants damp and muddy, with something dangling from his hand. “I’m fine, but why . . .” Terry stared at the limp and thoroughly filthy item. “Why is there a stuffed toy dragon down here? And how in Yrdra’s deepest hells did it fit through the grate in the first place?”
Each drain had a large grate comprised of two-inch-thick steel bars spaced one inch apart. The grates were lifted open on an enormous hinge in order to gain access to the storm drains below and, in particular, the sump chamber that caught the larger debris before it could enter the drainage system.
You found him! Citlali ran out from her and Xoc’s den. She quickly padded over to the open drain, stared down at Terry, and bounced on her forelegs. You found him, you found him, you found him!
Unable to help himself, Chanté smiled. She was so excited!
Terry, looking up at her and laughing, said, “Who is ‘him?’”
Citlali stopped, glanced around, then lowered herself so her head hung over the edge of the open drain. Do not tell Xoc, but that is Little Xoc.
“Oh.” Terry glanced at ‘Little Xoc,’ then reached up to hand him to Citlali. “We won’t say a word.”
Citlali took the toy dragon in her mouth. Thank you! She then padded happily back to her den, one of four just off the courtyard.
“Okay,” Quillan said, still staring after the young dragon. “That was just . . .”
Korrie chuckled as she used the short ladder to climb out of the drain. “Adorable? I do wonder where Sharrah got the stuffed dragon from, though. I haven’t seen one like that before.”
“Looking to add one to your collection?” Terry had returned to shoveling damp mud, gravel, and similar debris from the sump into a large bucket, so his face couldn’t be seen, but his tone definitely had . . . something to it.
“Maybe.” Korrie glared down at him. “Just be quick about the shoveling. We’ve got three more drains to clean.”
Terry chuckled.
Korrie seemed angry, but . . . not truly? Chanté wasn’t sure what to make of it.
They like each other.
Chanté raised his brows and turned to Nantli, who was lying in the sun at the side of the courtyard to give them room to work. Like each other?
The boy feels strongly about the girl, and she feels for him as well.
He looked at the two of them. So, they felt strongly for each other. The only thing he’d noticed was that they seemed to get along well, at least from what he’d seen of them the last week or so.
Quillan walked over and stood next to Chanté at the end of the large refuse cart. He leaned over and whispered, “They really like each other, huh?”
He knew? Chanté turned to him and whispered, “Nantli says they do, which makes sense, dragons can read people’s feelings, but how did you know?”
Gaze still on the two, Quillan’s eyes widened.
“Quillan?”
“I–I, ah, I can tell from watching them.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, the way he looks at her, sometimes, for instance. He’s definitely smitten with her.”
“Smitten? What does that mean?”
“You know, the beginnings of”—Quillan glanced briefly at Nantli, for some reason, before looking back at the two—“of being in love.”
Chanté had heard the word before. Alas, while he recalled that humans had poems and songs and the like devoted to love, as with so many other things, Ulthis had not paid much attention to them.
He frowned. “What is being in love?”
“That,” Quillan said, “is a bit of a tricky question to answer because, except for bond-mates, feelings can’t be shared directly. With physical things, you can show someone what it is. ‘Hey look, that’s a dewberry.’ But feelings?” He shook his head. “Those can only be described to another, and the descriptions will be clouded by the describer’s interpretations.”
“So how do humans describe being in love?” The moment the words were out of his mouth, Chanté’s eyes grew large. Damn it all! He needed to be more careful about how he worded things!
“Humans?” Quillan turned to him, then glanced at Nantli. “Oh, right.” He turned back to watching Terry shovel. “It’s similar to love for a relative, or a good friend. You feel so strongly for someone that you’d risk your life for them. You’d do anything to keep them safe, to make them happy. But being in love is also . . . different. You don’t always ache for a friend if they’ve been away for a while. You miss them, certainly, but you don’t feel like part of you is missing. Your lips don’t pull into a smile of their own accord every time you think of them. Your heart doesn’t start beating faster when you spy him walking down a hallway.”
Quillan chuckled. “It sounds a little crazy, doesn’t it?”
Chanté stared at Quillan a moment before turning to Terry and Korrie. Being in love sounded more than a little crazy. It sounded frightening. Someone having that much of an effect on you?
I love you, and I am not concerned.
He glanced at Nantli. Based on his description, I think I love you, too. But it sounds like being in love with someone is somewhat distinct from that.
“Please don’t take me for any kind of expert on the subject,” Quillan said. “Even knowing all that, I’m not completely sure that I’ve ever been in love, that I’ve ever felt it. I mean, I think I have . . .” He glanced at Chanté, then looked back at Terry.
Quillan had once mentioned a girlfriend. From the context of that conversation it seemed as if the girl had been special to him.
Perhaps your sister is right.
My sister?
You are something of an idiot sometimes.
Chanté turned to Nantli and scowled. What did she mean by—
“My mother once gave me a knowing wink and told me that I’ll know it when I feel it.” Quillan sighed. “As if that was helpful advice.”
“Quillan.” Terry leaned on the shovel and stretched his back.
“Hmm?”
“You couldn’t see the nahual-ton the other night could you?”
Quillan blinked. “Oh. Ah, before it was dead? Not really. Well, not until it started raining. And even then, it was the rain splashing off it, running
down the beast, that I saw.”
“So then you were able to at least see it at the end.”
“In a manner of speaking, yeah.”
“Wasn’t the fight amazing?” Terry started acting it out. “The way Jessip slid under the thing, one foot farther back to support him leaning like that, then, wham! He slashed it, finished the slide, and spun over, a hand on the ground. And in an instant, he was back on the beast for the finishing slice.”
Terry breathed in and let out a sigh. “I can’t wait to be able to fight like that.”
Chanté had been impressed, as well. And disturbed. He’d seen nahual before, as Ulthis, but they’d never affected him like that one did. For some reason, now that he was human, every little thing about them repulsed him, and if he were completely honest, made him afraid.
He drew his brows together. Had Yrdra intentionally designed them that way? To inspire fear almost instinctively? He wouldn’t put it past—
“As long as you keep practicing and learning,” Sharrah said as she walked out from the den, “you all should have no problems getting to Jessip’s skill level.”
“You’re here?” Korrie looked surprised. “We came in from an empty suite, so we didn’t know anyone else was around. I thought you’d be off on your own chores.”
“I’m about to head off for them, but I wanted to be sure Citlali actually went to sleep. Flying practice takes a lot out of her and Xoc, and they need rest to recover and to grow. While the food they eat after usually does the trick, the two of them sometimes don’t want to go to sleep. She and Xoc are too much alike in that regard. And speaking of which,” Sharrah looked down at Terry, “she tells me you found Little Xoc?”
Terry smiled up at her. “He was buried in the mud and gravel in here.”
“She was upset at not being able to find him. I’m always after her to put her toys away when she’s done with them. He must have got washed down there in that heavy rain.”
“That was another thing,” Terry said. “It’s was good that Jessip finished the nahual-ton when he did. The rain could have made that fight really dangerous.”
Chanté glanced down at the mud Terry had slipped in. The battle could indeed have gone very differently, yet Jessip hadn’t hesitated at all. None of them ever seemed to.
Of Gods, Trees, and a Sapling: Dragonlinked Chronicles Volume 4 Page 20
