by May, K. C.
“I go now hunt.” Sundancer swam away without saying goodbye.
“Good hunt, Sun Dancer,” she played. “See you tomorrow.”
She hurried to her room to translate the note sequences Sundancer had given her. The first one, the dolphin’s answer to her expressed fear, was akin to “I am sorry.” The second was the word for calling. “I teach calling.” What did Sundancer mean by that? Could she possibly use the Mindstream to communicate? She looked up a few more words and realized that the word calling meant less a vocal shout and more of a beckon. She jotted a note to herself as a reminder of how to ask Sundancer to clarify. That evening, she would go back to the shoal, in case her friend was nearby.
She broke her fast with Tearna and Briana, her sullenness not unnoticed by her friends, but she wasn’t in the mood to talk about Boden’s note or the impending visit by the Truth Sayers and what it might mean. Gunnar stopped her on the way to the leather shop to ask if everything was all right.
She wanted to tell him what had happened, but she was already testing Nuri’s patience. Arriving late to work would earn her some unpleasant chores. She walked backward toward the shop. “I received a warning from Boden. We’re not in danger, but I’ll tell you about it later.”
He watched her go, nodding. There was a sadness in his eyes that made her wonder whether her father had shared their conversation with Gunnar already. She wouldn’t have minded if he had. It would save her having to repeat it.
Nuri greeted her with a sympathetic smile when Jora walked in. “I heard about what happened. I’m really sorry, girl.”
Already? Nuri truly did have her ear to the ground in this town.
“What happened?” Shiri asked. She and Palti stopped what they were doing to listen.
“Maybe nothing at all,” Jora said. “There’s no use worrying about something that might never come to pass.”
Shiri clicked her tongue. “Oh, you had one of your so-called visions again?”
Jora scowled at her. “I’ve never had visions. What are you talking about?”
“You know. Your dreams that everyone thinks are sooooo important. As if you were some great seer or something, rather than just a boring old freak.”
“Shiri, that’s enough,” Nuri said. “Shut your mouth and keep it shut or you’ll find yourself plucking chickens the rest of the day.”
There were times Jora appreciated Nuri’s firmness. “How did you find out?” she asked quietly.
“The councilwomen spoke about it this morning before breakfast. They thought I should know, seeing as how I’m going to be losing my best apprentice.”
Palti gasped. “Are you dying?”
“No,” Jora answered, shocked. “Look, I don’t know what it means. It could be nothing at all.” The Truth Sayers might simply want to talk to her, to invite her into their ranks. There was no reason to think she would be arrested and hauled off to prison.
Nuri came over and picked up Jora’s hands. “We’ll do what we can to keep you, but the council thinks that’s unlikely. If you want to spend your last days here visiting with friends and family instead of cutting and stitching leather, you have my leave and my blessing to go.”
Jora squeezed Nuri’s hands before releasing them. “Thank you. I do.” She looked at the tools hanging on hooks over her workbench. “What should I do with my—this stuff?”
“Leave it. On the off chance you get to stay with us, I’ll expect you to get back to work with minimal fuss.”
Jora bid her mentor so long for now and hurried to her room. Everyone had work to do. The town couldn’t come to a halt because she might be leaving, and so she took the time to transfer as much of the most useful information in the Book of Azarian to her journal as possible, shaking out her hand whenever a cramp settled in. She made a point to turn every page one by one. If she had to leave, it was unlikely the librarian would let her take the book with her, nor would she want to risk damaging or losing it on her journey. Having opened the book to every page would enable her to look something up when she needed to by Mindstreaming back to this day.
Her mother, Kayla, came knocking late in the morning, her eyes rimmed in red. “Sweetheart, your papa told me about Boden’s warning. Are you all right?” She pulled the stool up close to the bed and sat, reaching for Jora’s hands.
“I’m worried, Mama. I don’t want to leave.” Her mother’s hands felt bony, the skin thin. She was only fifty-four, but she’d aged more in the ten years since Tosh died than most people did in the same span of time.
“I am too, dove.” Kayla’s eyes welled with tears that spilled down her cheeks. “A mother accepts that she might lose her sons, but she never dreams that she could lose a daughter.”
Jora stiffened. “They wouldn’t... kill me, would they?”
Kayla’s eyes flew wide. “No! No, no. I didn’t mean that. But if you join the Justice Bureau, it’s unlikely we’ll ever see you again. The last time a Truth Sayer graced our little town was, gosh, forty years ago. I wasn’t even old enough to submit yet.”
“Though I bet you had your eye on that handsome Kyear fellow,” Jora said, hoping to lighten the mood.
Kayla snuffled a short laugh through her tears. “I did. All the girls did, but I was lucky enough to be his First Wife. We’ve had five wonderful children together. Loel will be leaving for war in another couple of months, and only Cacie will be left. It’s hard to imagine Kaild without you.”
“You’ve four grandchildren already, and once Loel marries, you’ll have another next year. You’ll be so busy, you might not realize I’m gone.”
“Don’t say that, dove. Nothing could be further from the truth.”
Outside, the bell rang for the midday meal. “We should go eat. Sit with me, sweetheart. Bring Tearna and Briana if you want, but I need you at my table as long as possible.”
Jora spent the midday meal with her family and friends, first reminiscing about the happier times spent together and then exchanging stories about encounters with Truth Sayers. From what she gathered, they weren’t terrible or frightening, just stern and distant, perhaps to keep up their reputation for objectivity.
But soon the children had to return to the classroom and the adults to their duties, leaving Jora free once more to continue writing notes from the Book of Azarian into her journal. She felt the exhaustion of the sleepless night and worry pressing down on her eyelids and shoulders. Soon she would have to say goodbye to everyone she knew. Her vision glazed and the words ran together into fuzzy black blobs on the page. Briefly, she considered running away. If they couldn’t find her, they couldn’t take her, and then they would give up and leave. But no. They would simply observe her, find out where she was, and hunt her down like a fugitive.
Jora was startled by heavy pounding on her door. “Jora. Jora, open the door.”
She stumbled to the door and unhooked the latch. Her father stood in the hallway wearing an expression of concern and fear. “What is it, Papa?”
“They’re here, dove. They want to see you.”
Under the dimming light of the approaching dusk, two bald men, one in a green robe and the other in yellow-gold, stood on the main street within the circles of light cast by newly lit cressets. The five councilwomen who governed the town stood by with arms crossed and stern expressions on their faces. A few dozen townsfolk surrounded them, watching with wary anticipation. Still barefoot, Jora followed Dyre into the center of the crowd, her heart thundering with fear. She hadn’t expected them to arrive so quickly.
“You’re Jora Lanseri?” the golden-robed one asked. His voice was softer than she expected it to be. Pleasant. He looked old, like her grandfather’s age.
“Yes,” she said. Her own voice failed her, and her reply came out as a mere whisper.
“I’m Elder Gastone, and my companion is Adept Uster. We’re told you possess the Talent for Witnessing. Is this true?”
She swallowed hard. “I-I think so, yes,” she said, this time a little louder.
“I call it Mindstreaming.”
“How quaint,” Adept Uster said.
“Demonstrate this for us please. Observe this woman.” Elder Gastone indicated Councilwoman Omondi.
Jora did as she was told, and as in the lecture hall a couple of weeks earlier, the two Truth Sayers saw her in the Mindstream.
“Very well,” Elder Gastone said.
Jora closed the Mindstream and looked at them in wary anticipation.
He blinked slowly in acknowledgment. “Your service is requested by His Majesty the King.”
“The king? How would the king know about me?”
Adept Uster chuckled, but Gastone smiled kindly. “His Majesty hasn’t specifically requested your service, but he has empowered me to request it on his behalf.”
Her face warmed. “What kind of service?” she asked.
“Service as a Truth Sayer in the Order of Justice Officials. Unlike in the Legion, this is a lifelong service.”
Lifelong. So basically it was a death sentence for the crime of being a freak.
“You’ll go through training and live in the dormitory behind the Justice Bureau. Once you’ve achieved the rank of Adept, you’ll serve three years with the Legion.”
She barely heard him. The words lifelong service kept echoing in her mind. “How did you find me?” she asked.
The two Truth Sayers glanced at each other. “Others of our order witnessed you... Mindstreaming, as you called it,” Gastone said.
Her heart was beating furiously. Would she be punished for questioning them? “But they didn’t know who I was. Did Boden tell you?”
“It is unimportant how we obtained your identity,” Uster said, his voice less kindly than the elder’s.
“It wasn’t your friend Boden Sayeg,” Gastone said. “He merely mentioned you to his friend, Rasmus Bokk, and we observed the conversation.”
They were spying on him, though she didn’t say so aloud. “Is Boden in trouble?”
“No,” Gastone said, cocking his head. “Why would you think he’d be in trouble?”
Gunnar joined them in the street. “What’s going on here?” he asked. Loel and a few of the older boys joined them, too, as did several more women.
Gastone bowed. “Sergeant Sayeg. A pleasure to see you again.”
“Adept Gastone,” Gunnar said with an acknowledging nod. “Though I see by your robe that it’s Elder Gastone now. Congratulations.”
“Thank you kindly,” the elder said.
“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Gunnar asked.
“We’ve been told that Jora Lanseri has the Talent for Witnessing. King Yaphet requests her service in the Justice Bureau.”
“Respectfully, I must decline,” Jora said.
“Is it truly a request?” Gunnar asked.
“I’m afraid not. Her service is compulsory. Have you married, Novice Jora?” Gastone asked. “Have you a family?”
Novice Jora? “No, but...” She looked at Gunnar pleadingly. He hadn’t proposed yet; her twenty-third birthday wasn’t for another few days. Wasn’t there a way they could skip forward or perform a hasty ceremony to keep her from having to go?
“I’ve declared my intentions to take her as my Fifth Wife,” Gunnar said. “We’ll be married within a week.”
“I’m afraid it wouldn’t matter, Sergeant.” Gastone inclined his head in a regretful but respectful manner. “Her service would still be compulsory. Had she already begun a family, her husband, if he wasn’t serving the Legion, and their children would have the option of relocating to Jolver, where they could visit two days of each week. Since that’s not the case, the issue is moot.”
“Elder Gastone,” Councilwoman Omandi said, drawing everyone’s attention, “is there not another option? Jora is a valued and beloved member of Kaild.”
Jora looked on dejectedly, her last vestiges of hope fading.
“We can appreciate your hesitance to let go of a fine woman who would no doubt contribute greatly to the smooth operation of your community, but this isn’t a debatable matter. Novice Jora can petition King Yaphet for a release from her duty once she arrives in Jolver. Such releases are granted under the most extenuating circumstances, as determined by His Majesty.”
“Could she perhaps do her training here?” Omandi asked.
“I’m sorry,” the elder said, shaking his head. “That isn’t possible. All training is conducted in Jolver, but once she achieves the rank of Disciple, she can request a transfer to Halder, if she would like.”
Halder wasn’t any nearer to Kaild than Jolver was. Jora hung her head. She had no choice but to go with them. If there was a bright side to this, it was that they weren’t putting her in prison.
Not exactly.
Chapter 10
The visitors had arrived by boat, a sixty-foot merchant ship with a mast in the center, manned by eight unshaven and sweaty crewmen on each side and one extra fellow, presumably the merchant captain. The boat had been anchored in the shallow water for the night, and the seventeen crew members and two Truth Sayers joined the people of Kaild for the evening meal. Their presence inspired lots of staring and quiet speculation whispered behind hands, though a couple of the crewmen exchanged handshakes with Gunnar and a few of the other returned soldiers. Still, the sailors gathered at a pair of tables and kept to themselves as they ate while the Truth Sayers socialized with the town council members. The merchant sat with Nuri and several of the other craftswomen, no doubt negotiating a purchase of goods.
The two Truth Sayers and the merchant were offered beds in the guest chamber of the civic building, a small room with four narrow beds to accommodate the occasional traveler. Kaild wasn’t large enough to attract tourists or dignitaries, and it was out of the way for parties traveling by land to Halder, and so there was no inn. The crewmen slept on the beach on their own bedrolls.
Jora spent the evening with her family and friends before climbing into her bed for the night. She wept silently, wishing with all her might that this was but a terrible dream from which she would awaken in the morning.
She rose before dawn, dressed hastily, and tied her hair back into an uncharacteristically sloppy knot. She took a minute to look up the words she wanted to say to Sundancer and wrote notes in her journal, now quite thick with some of the more useful information she’d gleaned from the Book of Azarian. Feeling anxious to reach Sundancer before the Truth Sayers arose, she hurried through town, flute and journal in hand. Though the men sleeping on the beach lifted their heads momentarily to regard her, they said nothing before resuming their sleep.
She picked her way across the rocky shoal to her favorite spot, then dropped the journal on the rocks behind her and sat with her feet dangling over the edge. She played the greeting that had drawn Sundancer to her so many times before, unconcerned about whether the sailors would be bothered by the sound.
For a long moment, nothing happened. She played the greeting again and waited, listening to the rushing waves and watching the black waters for the sleek gray figure to break the surface. “Come on, Sundancer. Please.” Then a horrible thought occurred to her. What if Sundancer thought yesterday was their last goodbye? “No, no, no,” she whispered, and played the greeting again and again a few seconds later.
At last, the familiar dorsal fin broke the water and sailed toward her. The relief she felt bubbled out of her chest in a sob. “Oh, Sundancer,” she said. “Thank goodness you came. I couldn’t bear to leave without seeing you one last time.”
“Good morning, Autumn Rain.”
“Good morning, Sun Dancer,” she played, so filled with emotion that her lips could barely tighten enough to get the notes out. “Happy see you.”
Sundancer twittered. “Happy see you. You not go?”
“I go today. Men take me on boat to big city on shore.”
“I know big city. You and I talk more.”
“Yes,” Jora said. “That was what I’m hoping.” She lifted the flute to her lips. “I not know when.�
�
“I wait. You come. I teach calling.”
“What is calling, Sun Dancer?”
“Calling is power. Calling is...” More of Sundancer’s foreign whistles followed, and Jora wrote them down as quickly as she could, making use of the flute to play back what she heard to be sure she’d gotten it right. With Sundancer’s acknowledging whistles, she took a few minutes to look up the words.
“Calling brings ally from another helix.”
An ally? From another helix? The words made no sense to her. What—or where—was a helix? She looked again at the radicals, the notes she heard, and tried to find another way the notes could be grouped to form different words. The alternative made less sense.
“Bring ally from what?”
“From other helix.”
Jora took a moment to look up her next word, then played, “I not understand.”
Sundancer twittered as if she were chuckling. She responded with another new word that Jora needed to look up. “I not surprised.”
“What is helix?” she asked.
What Sundancer said next took some time to translate. “Realm of existence has twin helixes connected by gates. We live in one helix, ally lives in other.”
“What is ally?” she asked.
The response used more words she didn’t know, but after a few minutes, she translated it as “Ally lives in helix. You see ally in spirit flow?”
Could Sundancer have meant the menacing forms whose shadows had always terrified her? She hoped not. There was nothing about those forms that made her want to engage them any further than she had to when she opened the Mindstream.
“I not know,” she replied.
“When you use spirit flow, you see ally.”
A cold dread crept up Jora’s spine, along with the disturbing feeling of being watched. “Yes,” she whispered. “I see...” She looked up the words she needed. “...something I fear.”
With the help of her journal, she deciphered Sundancer’s next phrase. “Not need fear ally when you do calling. Calling ally controls ally. You do calling, you see.”
