The UnFolding Collection Three
Page 84
Rethdun stood at the second story window of Raveler’s Inn. Tic Calag, his first urban experience, fascinated him. So many people always in a hurry took his breath away. Men in suits and women in brightly colored dresses rode and walked along the street at all hours of the turning. Children, garbed as miniature grownups, were always accompanied by adult companions.
He smoothed his new clothes. Mylos and Floree had taken him to a store. He leaned his forehead against the window. Stores are almost as interesting as all the people—each one, a paradise of merchandise. Floree had picked out four outfits for herself and three for him. Mylos had let Rethdun give the clerk silver pecêns in exchange.
The coins had fascinated him. SaHal’s memories informed him of their importance. How much money one had marked one’s station in life. The less one had, the more difficult life could be.
The smell of sweet soap and perfume wafted across the room. Floree, looking almost unrecognizable, joined him by the window. She wore a stylish blue dress instead of the baggy pants and big shirts she had always worn. Her shiny blonde hair peeked from beneath a bonnet bedecked with ribbons and flowers. He smiled. She had been as giggly as Rayn on a happy day when Mylos purchased it.
“You look pretty, Aunt Floree.”
“Thank you, Rethdun. You look quite handsome yourself.”
He touched the fine fabric of his jacket. “My new clothes are nice, but they make me feel I must be so-o-o careful.”
She rested her hands on his shoulders, her eyes level with his. “Rethdun, I have something important to ask. You and I can no longer be Floree and Rethdun. Do you think you could call me Momee?”
His heart gave a small stab of sorrow. He swallowed. “I can. What will you call me, M-momee?”
“What do you think of the name Charid Darine for you?”
“Charid.” I like it. Do you have another name besides Momee?”
“I am Esta Mae Darine. We are from the town of Port Saticch.”
Rethdun searched SaHal’s memories. “Port Saticch isn’t far from here. It’s a seaside town a bit smaller than Tic Calag.”
Floree laughed. “You know too much, young Charid.”
Rethdun didn’t smile. “Not for much longer, Momee.”
They spent most of the turning packing the small trunk they had purchased for the trip and preparing for an early departure the next morning. Mylos arrived late in the afternoon and provided identification papers, tickets, and medical forms. After dispatching their luggage to the transport center, he escorted them to a small eatery. Following a tasty meal, they strolled to a waterside park.
Rethdun left Mylos and Floree holding hands and talking in quiet, serious voices. Wandering along a bayside walkway, he stared at night’s beginning reflected in the water. Soon, my memories will fade like the dusk into night. Will I know I’m forgetting my whole life? He glanced at Floree and Mylos. Will I remember Momee?
A small, smooth pebble glistened at his feet. Picking it up, he turned it one way and then the other. Heaving a sigh, he tossed it into the sea. How can one small stone hold everything I’ve ever known?
The whisper of silk petticoats brought his attention from the pebble’s rippling entry point to the face of a girl about sixteen sun cycles. Candid interest gleamed in sapphire blue eyes as she introduced herself. “Hello, I’m Fianna Gwynn Palmira. My friends call me Gwynn. What’s your name?”
“Ch-charid D-darine.”
“I won’t bite you, Charid.” She took his hand and led him to a park bench. “You dreamt of me, too, didn’t you?”
He summoned an affirming nod.
“I know you have something for me to guard and pass on.” She held up a small blue velvet pouch on a matching ribbon. “My grandmaman made this for me. She told me you would give me a stone, The Remembering Stone. She said I would be guarding your memories.”
Rethdun inhaled. Trepidation cleared, and words formed. “I did have a dream about you. You are on your way to the Inner Universe on the Meti Chalan II also. I won’t remember you, will I?”
She shook her head. “No, but I’ll introduce myself when it is safe.” Her lovely eyes reflected her concern. “Are you scared.”
The hand he placed on his heart trembled. “I’m afraid I will forget Momee and even who I am. I wonder if I’ll have a history, a story to call my own. I understand there are things I must forget, but—” He shivered. “I wonder if it will hurt or—” A shudder quaked through his body.
Gywnne clasped his hand. “Grandmaman says the anticipation of something is harder than the actual event. Maybe you should give me the stone.”
Rethdun studied the sea and the moon’s path to the shore and thought about how moonlight changed the darkness to light. He slipped a hand in his pocket and curled his fingers around the stone. “Did your grandmaman tell you anything else?”
“She said your memories seeping into the stone will be painless. For a short time, you will feel lost. Then your life—your now moments—will become your story.” Her beautiful face grew thoughtful. “Oh yes, she said to tell you SaHal will be with you always. Do you want me to get your maman?”
He shook his head and removed the stone from his pocket, clutched it for an instant longer, and dropped it onto her palm. “What now?”
“We’ll hold it together. Put your hand on the stone.”
Cool hardness pressed against his palm. Gywnne interlaced her fingers through his. Side by side, their hands resting on a park bench in Tic Calag, the forgetting began. SaHal’s wisdom and knowledge slipped into hiding, leaving Rethdun immersed in his personal recollections. Much too fast, these memories melted like snowflakes caught on the tip of his tongue. At first, the loss of each remembrance—person, place, or event—left a tangible tear in his psyche. He cried out in dismay, wishing for one more moment to savor their significance. Panic crept into lack of awareness; lack of awareness morphed into emptiness. He fought back tears, caught his breath, and smiled. Contentment overtook the sense of loss. He felt happy…even lighthearted.
A hand squeezed his. A strange voice whispered, “I promise to guard the stone with my life.”
The tantalizing words evaporated. He frowned and glanced up. The bayside park, the ocean, the moon seemed familiar. The elderly woman sitting next to him did not. He searched the park. “Where’s Momee?”
“I believe we should find her, don’t you? My name is Gwynnith Torin. You may call me Tori. What’s your name, boy?”
He bit his lip. “Momee told me not to speak to strangers.”
She smiled. “You maman is a wise woman, but I’m not a stranger. I knew your grandsire.”
Thinking hard, he frowned. “Do I know him?”
“He died before you were born. But I knew him well.” She took his hand. “Come along, Charid , your maman will worry if we don’t find her soon.”
Holding tight to her hand, he skipped along beside her.
A harried woman hurried along the walkway. “Charid, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
“Momee!” He pulled his hand free and ran to hug her. “I got lost.”
She held him away from her. “Are you alright?”
“Yes, Momee. Tori found me.” He looked over her shoulder, wiggled from her grasp, and held up his arms. “Uncle My!”
Mylos snatched him up. “You scared us, Charid. Who’s your friend?”
Gwynnith gave him an appraising look. “I am Gwynnith Torin. Please call me Tori.”
Mylos bowed. “Thank you for returning Charid to us.”
“You are most welcome.” She inclined her head and smiled. “Would you mind if I have a private word with Floree?”
Charid squirmed. “Uncle My, I want to see the ocean.”
Mylos put him down. “Promise to stay by me?”
“If you can catch me.” Giggling, Charid raced down the walkway.
Floree assessed the elderly woman whose candid gaze reminded her of someone she couldn’t quite place. “Do I know you?”
Floree clasped it and gasped. A surge of heat ran up her arm. “You were in my dream.” She glanced after Mylos and his young charge. “Is it done?”
“It is my dear. Now, we must do a bit of work on you. Your memories contain information harmful to those who serve our people.”
Floree rubbed her hand. “You will rearrange my memories, correct?”
“I will. Don’t worry. Once you have reached your destination, they will resurface. You understand why this must be done?”
“I do. What about Mylos?”
“He will not remember that you and Charid left El Stroma. The rest of his memories must be kept intact for his work as the Vasrosi leader.”
Tori clasped her hand. Floree sucked in a breath, blinked, and grew still. Momentary confusion left her dazed. She inclined her head to observe the woman sitting next to her. “Do I know you?”
“Only in passing, my dear.” She stood. “I believe your friend is ready to escort you to the inn.” Nodding to Mylos, she joined a young girl waiting by the walkway and, taking her arm, continued her stroll beside the sea.
No Space
At the inn, Mylos accompanied them to their suite. Floree tucked Charid in bed and rejoined him in the small parlor. Wondering at her slight feeling of discomfort, she remained standing and folded her arms. “Thank you for all you did tonight, Mylos.” She paused. “I feel somewhat confused. I’m not sure…”
“It’s alright, Esta .” He tugged a curl in his beard and rose. “I understand. Get some sleep. We must be up before dawn. I’ll see you then.” A quick kiss on the cheek and he was gone.
She touched her face. Her brow furrowed. What was that about? It’s alright, Esta. I understand… Shaking herself, she prepared for bed.
Esta woke to a persistent but soft pounding on the door. After a quick peek through the peep hole, she flipped the latch and opened it. Mylos, anxiety buzzing around him, marched into the room.
“Get dressed. We have to go.”
She made a hasty retreat to her room, dressed, and stuffed a few last-minute things in her bag. Shaking Charid awake, she helped him into his clothes, ran a brush through his hair, and hurried him into the main room.
Mylos knelt in front of him. “I need you to do exactly what I ask and no noise.”
Charid, eyes as big as the full moon, nodded.
Moving to the door, Mylos stepped into the hall. “Stay here. I’ll be back.”
Charid clutched a fist full of skirt. “Are we in trouble?”
Esta touched a finger to her lips. “No, but we must be as quiet as kittens.”
Mylos stuck his head in the room. “Hurry! We don’t have much time.”
His urgent undertone sent them scurrying after him into the hall and down the back stairs. A door at the bottom exited onto the street. Mylos urged them faster.
Behind the inn, a dark motored carriage purred. Mylos lifted Charid into the back, assisted her, and climbed aboard. The motor hummed. The carriage rolled along the narrow lane.
Running feet rounded the building. “Stop in the name of the Rompeerial Guard.”
Esta gripped Charid’s hand. Mylos rapped on the wall behind the driver. The carriage lights flared. It leapt forward. A peek out the small, back window provided a glimpse of a Rompeerial motor wagon pulling onto the street and stopping to pick up the soldier. Engine roaring, it raced after them.
With little time to spare, their carriage rolled through the open gates of the Transport Center. The guard waved them on. They turned one corner, then another, and came to a stop beside a one-story building. Mylos jumped to the ground, spoke to the driver, and hurried her and Charid inside.
A uniformed man greeted them with no questions and an impersonal smile. He escorted them to a small, windowless office. A ruckus in the reception area, changed the smile to a look of grim determination. “Please take a seat. I’ll be back when I can.” He hurried into the hall, closing the door behind him.
Mylos waited a heartbeat, then opened it a crack. Angry voices drifted along the corridor. A calm response received a barrage of demands. Mylos eased the door shut, whipped out his kerchief, and wiped the sweat from his face and neck.
Esta tried to remain calm. “What’s happening? Are we safe here?”
“The Transport Center is owned by the planetary government of Metchalia.” Mylos stuffed the kerchief in his pocket. “In accordance with intergalactic law, the center is considered to be Metchalian territory. It is, therefore, governed by Metchalian law. The RomPeer and his soldiers have no authority here, nor do the Transport Center officials have to hand over El Stroman citizens unless they choose to do so.”
Mylos eased the door ajar. Metchalian soldiers filed past. Angry protests followed by shuffling feet and the muffled roar of an engine fading into the distance suggested the RomPeer’s men had lost the battle.
The uniformed man returned and sat at his desk. Mylos handed him their papers. After a cursory glance, he stamped them and handed them back.
“A carriage is here to take you to the ship. You will be shown to your quarters. I suggest you remain there until well after take-off.”
He ushered them to the back door. Esta paused. “Thank you, sir.”
The man executed a stylish bow. “Welcome to Metchalia, Esta Mae Darine. May your journey be a safe one.” He disappeared into the building.
Esta stared after him. “We’re not in El Stroma anymore.”
27
Jaradee’s Legacy
Part 2 - Escape
E sta, Charid, and Mylos waited in a room, where floor to ceiling windows provided a spectacular view of the space port. Unlike Charid’s obvious excitement, the sight of the Meti Chala II’s shuttle gleaming in the moonlight stimulated a flood of doubts for Esta, doubts about leaving El Stroma, doubts defined by emotions she could not identify.
Mylos handed her a boarding packet. “You’ve made the right choice, Esta. Time away is exactly what you need. The death of Charid’s father has taken its toll on both of you.”
His words, spoken in a loud tone, increased her unease and triggered a deluge of unwanted memories. She pulled a hanky from her crocheted purse and dabbed her eyes. “I know, Mylos. It’s just that—”
Charid came bounding up. “Uncle My, look at the shuttle! Momee and I are riding on it to the ship. Aren’t we lucky?”
Mylos knelt. “You’re a lucky boy, Charid. Be good, have grand adventures, and take care of your maman.”
“I’ll take good care of Momee. I promise. When do we go?”
“You’ll board soon.”
Charid clapped his hands. “And how long before it takes off?”
“The shuttle lifts off in two time-circles. Meta Chala II leaves orbit tomorrow mid-morning.” Mylos’ answer held a note of wistfulness. He gave Charid a quick hug and stood. “I’ll see you when you get back.”
Esta brushed an invisible speck of dust from her dress and lifted a gaze filled with unasked questions. “Take care of yourself, Mylos.”
“You, too, Esta Mae. Have a good time. Don’t forget m—” He pressed his lips together and walked away.
Sadness and an overwhelming sense of loss gripped her. Bewildered, she turned to stare at the reflection of his retreating figure in the window. With each step he took, her heart seemed to grow smaller. Glancing at Charid, she frowned. You are my son. Your father is dead. She searched the shimmering glass. Only their future remained.
Esta sensed trouble, even before the tall, slender woman striding across the waiting area stopped in front of her.
“Esta Mae Darine?” The brusque question matched the woman’s stern demeanor.
“I am Esta. May I help you?”
She cast a hard look Charid’s direction. “Please bring your son and follow me.”
Est
a remained unmoving. “And you are?”
“Liaison Officer Tademori. I arbitrate disputes between Metchalian and El Stroman officials.” Her tone softened. “We must go now.”
Esta beckoned Charid to join them.
He ran to her side. “Do we get to go on the ship now?”
Tademori didn’t answer, but turned on her heels and marched to the door. She guided them to a small office, gave them clipped but clear instructions to stay put, and left.
A man in a suit entered and took a seat at the desk. A second man followed and remained standing behind a black box. After appearing to adjust settings, he pressed a small round pad to his temple, and nodded.
The first man gazed at a folder. “It says here…” His finger traced an invisible line. “You are Esta Mae Darine, and the boy is your son, Charid Wilhan Darine. Your husband died a sun cycle ago in a boating accident off the Port Saticch coast.” He glanced up. “I have reason to believe this may not be true.”
Esta drew in a startled breath. “I’m sorry? Are you suggesting that Wil is alive?”
“No, Madame Darine, I am suggesting you are not who you say you are.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Charid squirmed to look at her. “You look like Momee. You talk like Momee.” He scooched off the chair and threw his arms around her. “You are Momee!”
Grateful for a moment to organize her scattered thoughts, she helped him onto her lap. “I don’t know who you think I am, but my papers are in order. Wil’s death certificate is among them.” She smoothed Charid’s hair. “Our son was born in the Port Saticch birthing center. You have seen his papers. I don’t know who you’re looking for, but I do know this office and the Transport Center are not El Stroman but Metchalian. Therefore, I am asking for the protection of Metchalia.”
Liaison Officer Tademori marched into the room and presented a document to the man in the suit. “I have been ordered to assist Madame Darine and her son through the boarding process. If you have further concerns, please discuss them with my superior.” She held the door open.