That didn’t surprise me. Weast had seemed interested but resigned during the time we spent together.
“The lumani,” Larta said, “figured out a way to hear through clearstone. The way Jonton described it was that clearstone held the instant memory of everything said in front of it. The lumani learned to extract the memory. They showed her how it worked. Once the lumani were gone, she took it over for herself.”
“So any room with a window was open to Jonton’s listening,” I said.
Larta nodded. “We kler doumanas love our windows. Every structure has as many as we can fit in.”
I gave my admiration grudgingly, but it was an amazing thing the lumani had done — to make clearstone repeat back anything it heard.
We turned onto Bright Blue Circle — the street named for the color of excitement — and walked a while without talking, each with her own thoughts.
“Do you want to know my secret?” I asked Larta, unsure why it felt important to say it out loud at this moment, but knowing that it was. Larta seemed the perfect person to tell. Not Nez. Not Azlii. I supposed it was because though Larta was a sister, I would leave her here in Chimbalay when Kelroosh left, and that made her safer to tell, somehow.
“You have secrets?” She sent me a grin.
“Since that night,” I said, “the night we destroyed the lumani, I’ve lived in fear of what I was becoming — would become — this creature that was not doumana and not lumani — something in between. Or worse — I would become all lumani.”
Larta tilted her head and looked at me. “But you’re not afraid any more. Not now. That’s good.”
“I don’t understand why,” I said, and hesitated to go on. A doumana should have her reasons clear and ready if she decides to make a confession. I was unprepared. “Maybe I’m resigned. Maybe I’m curious to see how I’ll wind up.” I thought it over. “I have time now. Before, everything was crashing down. I was changing, Commemoration Day was coming.” I glanced at my wrist and the thirteen blue dots there. “Now, it’s more like being a hatchling on Emergence Day — nervous, leaving one state behind, moving to another, but excited too. Whatever I am to be, I’ll do my best with it.”
Larta sniffed. “Our whole world is changing.” She sent me a smile. “Whatever you become, whoever, I’m pleased to call you sister. You’ll always have a welcome in Chimbalay so long as I am here.”
We’d arrived at Presentation House. Nez was waiting by the wide steps. Her neck was wreathed in the orange-red of anticipation and the black-blue of determination. She wanted to do this for her sisters, for all the soumyo. My neck warmed and I wished Nez could see the color of my pride in her.
We started up the steps, climbing to a new life, a new world.
The night was warm, the sky clear. I sat alone in the garden behind Justice House, on the ground near the same tree where I’d met with Pradat. My cloak lay loose over my shoulders. My bare feet dug a finger’s length into the loose soil.
Birds yammered nearby. No, not nearby — in my earholes, in my mind.
Are you there, Khe? the planet sent.
I wriggled my toes deeper into the soil. I’m here. And I have questions for you.
The soil around my feet loosened — the planet giving me welcome.
Do you have a name? I asked.
I do, but it’s long and likely hard for you to say. Ah-sen-tha is the start of it, and you may call me that.
“Ah-sen-tha,” I said aloud, liking the feel of the word in my mouth and in my mind.
I scraped at the dirt with the ball of my foot, until the hole was ankle deep. The soil was warm and comforting on my skin. Why did you save me?
Birds chattered in my head again, but a different tone now, lower.
Jonton was right about some things, Khe. You are changed. But she was wrong to say you were becoming lumani. You may put that fear aside. You are nothing but doumana.
No, I thought. I am changed. I see and hear better than my sisters are able to. I see emotion colors not just on a doumana’s neck, but swirling throughout her body, the way the lumani saw.
The bird chatter sounded again, and then, You are no part lumani, Khe. You are merely the future — what all soumyo could be, will be. Not just improved vision and hearing, not just the ability to see another’s true emotions, not even to go long periods without food or sleep, but to live in better harmony with your sisters and brothers, the plants and beasts, the structures — and with me.
My breath caught in my throat. To not be lumani — to be what?
How could that happen? I sent.
The sound like a single raindrop beating over and over against wood rang in my head. I looked up quickly, expecting to see rain, but the sky was clear. The voice echoed inside my earholes.
Pradat started it with the procedure that let you first feel Resonance. The lumani made you more of what you already were. You are the most a soumyo can be, but you are only soumyo, nothing else.
I rubbed my fingers lightly on the dirt. I wanted to believe all that the planet said. Wanted to, but —
If I am still only soumyo, why don’t my emotion spots light?
They are no longer needed, not when you can see much deeper into your sisters’ hearts.
My sisters don’t see what I see, I sent. They can’t know what I feel. I think it bothers them.
The silence that set in went on so long I thought the conversation was ended — the planet had finished talking to me and turned to other concerns.
I am sorry, Khe, the voice came finally. It is never easy to be the first.
I blew out a breath. That was true enough.
Thank you, though, I thought. For caring for us. For giving me back my life.
The low chittering of all the birds in the world rang in my mind.
It was selfish of me to save you. The corentans are close to harmony with me, but they don’t know me the way you do. They don’t hear me. They don’t feel my heartbeat. The weather-prophets heard me, but couldn’t believe it was their planet whispering softly to them about what was to come. They made up the idea of tasting the weather in explanation. I have been alone and lonely for a very long time. I need a sister, Khe. A unitmate. You could be that for me.
I slipped my fingers under the dirt. I would be honored.
A thought itched in my mind. Why do you call saving me selfish?
Because I so wanted you for a sister, I saved you while knowing that not all that has changed in you will be pleasant. I have given you back your life, but I may also have brought you grief.
May have brought?
No future is certain, Khe. I hope yours is only bright. Now you should rest.
Rest. I wanted that. Needed it.
The soil beneath me loosened and shifted, making a soft, curved impression to lie in. Stars shone through the tree leaves, so many that they could never be counted.
This is what I had learned: just because a thing is done, it doesn’t mean all things are finished. Corentas would be arriving soon with the soumyo — doumana and male — who would make up the new council. Now that the rain had stopped, farming communes would begin planting. Commune leaders everywhere would have to begin making their own decisions. Some would be wise and some not. Commemoration Day would come and I would rise the morning after with more years to live.
I closed my eyes and, for the first time since the lumani, slept deep and long.
Dear Reader,
When I finished writing Khe, I thought I’d told her story and it was done. I followed Khe with Shadowline Drift, a completely different sort of tale, set on Earth, with (mostly) human characters. But Khe kept nagging at me, whispering in my ear that there was more, that things had happened after that final scene. I was curious — what had happened after? Tell me, I said to Khe. This book is the result.
As always, the writer only does half the job of creating a story. The other half is done by you, the reader, and I thank you for making this story live. If you would be so kind as to le
ave a short review on Amazon and/or Goodreads, I would appreciate it.
There are more stories to come. Next up is a tale of life on Khe’s world before the lumani. If you’d like to receive the occasional email with new release information, please sign up for my mailing list here: http://eepurl.com/08229.
Thank you.
Alexes Razevich
Acknowledgments
Many thanks to Chip Downs, Dan McNeil, Don Machen, Meg Xuemei, Randy Jackson, Richard Casey, Robin Mattocks, Sue Marschner, and Wendy Scott — with special thanks to Jay Howard and Christina Frey, the best editors a writer could hope for — for their friendship and help in shaping Khe and her world.
Much love to Chris, Larkin, and Colin Razevich, who I adore beyond anything words can convey.
Cover art by Tony Honkawa, Tony Honkawa Design
About the Author
Alexes Razevich lives in Southern California with her husband. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys playing ice and roller hockey, and travel.
Alexes is always happy to hear from readers and welcomes new friends on Facebook and Twitter.
Email: [email protected]
Twitter: https://twitter.com/lxsraz
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AlexesRazevichAuthor
New Release Mailing List: http://eepurl.com/08229
Also by Alexes Razevich
Khe
Shadowline Drift: A Metaphysical Thriller
Copyright © 2015 Alexes Razevich
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, including photography, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system without permission in writing from the author. Requests for permission should be sent to [email protected].
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Ashes and Rain: Sequel to Khe (The Ahsenthe Cycle Book 2) Page 19
