by TJ Muir
“I suppose so,” he agreed.
“Do you believe in that?” she asked, suddenly turning her curiosity to her new companion. The question threw Jedda off balance. And he was especially confused because he knew Diya had had several lovers or at least romantic admirers; he wasn’t sure where that fit against her notion of life-mates. He was further thrown off balance, for his complete lack of any experience with relationships. He had spent all of his life- that he could remember- solo. Trust and reliance were fledgling concepts, and he never forgot how easily it could all be taken away. So, the idea of a life-mate that would never leave him? That was as far away from his world, as the stars in the sky.
The way she thought, helped him to make sense of people in a way he never had before. Diya knew so much about things like ducks and birds, that Jedda had never considered. And somehow, each insight seemed to be a commentary on the world or people. He admired Diya. She was so very different than all of his friends. Growing up as isolated as he did, people were a curiosity to him, but foreign and a little scary. Talking with Diya was different and it felt safer. She wondered about things like ducks, and fish and birds.
They discussed the traits of different animals, from the strength of bears- which neither of them had ever seen, to fish, that lived together in groups, to tropical birds with brightly colored feathers.
“The male birds are always brightly colored and the females are plain in comparison.”
“The opposite of people,” Jedda said.
“Oh, I think men can be very vain,” Diya countered. “Look at the great lengths they take to get a girl's attention. Just like the birds.”
Jedda wasn't convinced. He thought about the habits of both the men and women he had watched for hours, and they argued about whether men or women were vainer.
Diya looked up at the sky. Jedda followed her gaze toward where the horizon was shifting into the soft mauve of evening.
“By the red god,” Diya exclaimed. “I had no idea so much time had passed. We’ve been chatting all day.” She began to collect herself as she spoke, rubbing her knee to make sure if was okay now. “I really must be going. I am expected at Matra’s. Or rather, my parents are, and therefore I am expected as well. Time to be trotted out like the show pony I am,” she said, grimacing. “They will be wretched if I do not make an appearance.”
Jedda jumped to his feet, determined to demonstrate his good manners, half helping and half pulling Diya to her feet. “Yes. me too,” he said. “I mean. Not your event. but I must be going also. I’m likely to be quite late myself.”
“Oh, dear. How terrible of me.”
“Oh, it’s okay. Here, would you like me to escort you?” he said, taking hold of her arm again- more like a wrestler than an escort.
“Thank you. You’re very noble. But I assure you I will manage fine now. And look, I think I see my cousin across the quad.” She waved her arm at the silhouette in the distance.
Jedda was crushed.
“I had a lovely afternoon, though. and I’m sure we will cross paths again.” She smiled and took her leave. Jedda just stared after her until he could no longer see her against the dim light of evening. Once she was gone, he plunked back down on the bench, scuffing the dirt with a stick.
Their conversation stretched out over the days, as they ran into each other several times in the following moon-span. It was easier now that he wasn't going to great lengths to avoid Diya. In fact, he found himself diverting his path on several occasions so that he might bump into her.
Jedda ran into her and her friends one day while he was “loitering” in front of the archives. “Ooooh,” she squealed, brightening up when she saw him. Then she threw her hand across her mouth, blushing and laughing at herself. “Oh, what luck! My favorite study companion!” She turned to her companions. “You can amuse yourselves in more entertaining ways, as I am sure you would rather do! I know you only agreed to come with me because I begged.”
The gaggle of girls tittered and vanished into the wind with such speed it was almost magic.
Once they were gone, she grabbed Jedda by the arm, turning up the stairs. “You must think I have terrible manners,” she laughed as they climbed upwards.
They rifled through books, Jedda showing off his newfound skills at reading whenever possible, and exclaimed over bizarre models and drawings and relics. They looked at sketches of the canal system as it looked hundreds of years ago and a much smaller version of Tatak Rhe without the northern harbors. He saw close-up images of the manned fliers that glided through the skies.
From that point on, the two were inseparable, exploring all sorts of artifacts, and delving into thoughts and ideas about the world. Something kindred was growing between them- a way of thinking about the world, that transcended all of the outside world, the social gossip, and chatter.
He and Diya were crossing one of the galleries on their way to the Natural studies area. He was eager to show off what he had learned about mountain lions. He went through his conversation points while they walked. A painting on the wall caught his attention, and he tripped, bumping into Diya.
She caught him by the arm to keep him from falling.
“Are you okay?” she asked, looking worried.
“Sorry,” he said, straightening up. “Oh, I just saw that painting, of that woman. Do you know who she is? Or Was?”
Diya turned to look where Jedda indicated. A woman was sitting in a lavish garden. Jedda had learned just enough about art to tell that the artist had taken great pains to highlight her blue-grey eyes. But it wasn’t the woman’s eyes that had caught his attention. He stopped, staring at the portrait.
“Just some woman,” Diya said, leading him away.
Jedda continued to look over his shoulder as they walked off. his eyes were glued to the necklace she was wearing. A pendant hung down just below the hollow in her neck. It was his pendant! That truth crashed down on him with a million questions. Did that mean his shell-pendant was common? Or was that HIS shell? Perhaps he was connected to that woman somehow? Maybe this woman was related to him! Or, were there more than one of his precious shell? And this secret information was too precious, too fragile, to share, even with Diya. Besides, it led to a whole series of questions and truths that he couldn’t answer. Truths that would reveal who he was. Or rather, who he wasn’t. That scared him- losing the tiny sliver of safety and security in the world around him.
When they weren’t immersed in the archives, they were often camped outside in one of the nearby gardens- discussing the things in the archives.
“This is so much better than terrace picnics or family dinner,'” Diya said.
“You don't like the parties and dressing up?” Jedda asked.
Diya shrugged. “Not really. I mean, sometimes it's okay, to talk with friends. But no one seems to want to do anything but talk,” she said. “And the family events are the worst!”
This surprised Jedda. He figured that every one of his new friends loved their world and that it was fun and exciting to them.
“Boring adults talking about land, and marriages and gossip and scandal. Or worse, showing me off like a prize cow, waiting for the highest bidder,” she said.
“What would you like to do?” he asked.
Diya sat up straighter, looking thoughtful. “I'd like to climb that mountain,” she said nodding to the eastern horizon. “I'd like to learn how to sail a boat. I want to build something, with my hands rather than So'har money. I want to not be burdened with the obligations I never asked for.” She sighed, “Sorry. I guess I'm a bit tired, is all.”
Jedda realized their friendship was a welcome escape for Diya. It never occurred to him that people like Diya were born into it and that perhaps not all of them loved it equally.
He didn't know if she really liked him and their time together, or if it was simply an escape from worse fates. They sat and talked about their latest obsession in the archives, fliers. Jedda found fliers fascinating. The idea that a pe
rson could sail through the air. Thin wings made of silk and canvas and a too-thin metal frame could carry a man. He never imagined it might be possible to see the world as it actually was, not just on maps. Diya had seen flyers throughout her life, at festivals, and on her family’s estate.
“Oh yes, they are fun to watch at festivals. The very best fliers will compete against each other. Sometimes it becomes a contest between Houses, a matter of honor and all,” she shrugged as she explained it. “I don't pay too much attention to that. But the fliers fly in teams or groups and perform the most beautiful patterns.”
“How does someone perform a pattern?” he asked.
She shrugged, and laughed. “Probably not the best description. It's hard to explain. They circle around each other and fly in perfect circles themselves, and loop in and out of each other. And sometimes I think they must also use magic because their colors will change. And then sometimes they have streamers trailing out behind them in some kind of game where they try to steal another flier's tail or something.”
Jedda listened intently. He liked the idea of flying but was a little disappointed to hear about games in the sky. While it all sounded like good fun, part of him liked the idea of the sky being a sacred place, not a place where the same kinds of human-made rules might apply.
“I never thought too much about them, which seems odd now. The family keeps the services of fliers but I've never bothered. They're just messengers, always someone available at any time of the day to deliver a message for Father-- to wherever or whomever.” Fliers often took service with one of the Houses. They were far more reliable for messages and information that was deemed private and confidential.
He was mostly familiar with the public messenger service, sending messages wherever. That was also a mysterious and secret system. It was also a sort of guild-- mostly veterans and soldiers, who were guaranteed employment for earning their service token. Messages sent through the magical light system between message stations, and messengers that delivered notices on foot to their destinations. The public message system, while serviceable, was never known for discretion. It was, after all, a public service, with emphasis placed on the public part of the term.
As they spoke, Jedda drew out his knife and began carving a small chunk of wood he had picked up. It was automatic, like plucking blades of grass. He had lost the habit, temporarily, all his attention diverted to this new friendship. But now he found himself relaxed and comfortable and his hands returned to their familiar activity.
“I don’t know precisely how they work. But the wings, are a bit like two giant bird wings. And there is a frame, with a harness, I suppose,” she explained. “I never paid much attention to them. They were just always… there. I never thought about them,” she explained, “much the way you never thought about fish.” She smiled at him over that. Jedda thought that just maybe they were more alike than he thought, at least in some ways. At least that is what he hoped that Diya was trying to say with that smile.
“What’s that, in your hands?” she asked, looking down as he was carving.
“It’s just something I do sometimes. I like to keep my hands busy. I suppose. It just kind of happens,” he tried to explain. He dusted off his nearly finished piece and held it up for examination. It was a very elegant swan, wings ever so slightly rising above its large curved back, and an elegant neck. The bird looked like it was gliding across an invisible pond, over which it reigned supreme.
“Exquisite!” Diya exclaimed.
Jedda held it out to her. “It’s yours,” he said. “I’ve never gifted anyone any of my things, but this one belongs to you. The Swan for the Swan.” It wasn’t entirely true, he knew and blushed as he said it. He had given handfuls of his early carvings out to the children in the canals. But that felt different; there was nothing personal in those. Diya saw him blush and read its meaning very differently. She leaned in, and ever so softly, she kissed him.
Diya had kissed him. Jedda. Then he realized the truth. Diya had not kissed him. She had kissed Jay. In that moment, he knew he wanted to be the person DIya would kiss.
Chapter Seven
He was raised to a new level of happiness and excitement mixed with self-doubt. He had no idea what the kiss meant, or if it meant anything at all. He knew Diya well enough to know she often indulged in ‘moments,’ that had no significance. Part of him always wondered if she were toying with him, interested only in the novelty of him, and he worried that it would soon wear off.
He didn’t see her again that week. It was a painful week for him, each day crawling by. There was some official social function, and she had ‘obligations.’ She winced when telling him that, and he believed her. At least he believed her when she said it. Once she was gone, self-doubt began creeping in.
Most of his circle of friends were attending the same event. He wasn’t sure precisely what the event was. He only knew that he, as an outsider, was not accorded the invitations that the others all received. Invitations went through the Houses. And he did not have a “House.”
Hak’kar would never claim him in any official capacity. He knew that in his blood and his bones. He was a servant and a tool for the So’Har, no more, no less. But some days, he allowed himself to dream. Occasionally, one of his group of friends would draw him into their events as a personal guest. Many of them had enough status, that an unexplained outsider went unquestioned, even if it did raise a few eyebrows.
He generally found that formal events mimicked their social group. The dozen or so of them tended to band together in their own private club. And whatever went on outside their private circle, passed mostly unnoticed- except by Jay, who had learned how to keep one eye or one ear on the surrounding events.
Through it all, he never lost track of his patron. He rarely saw Hak’kar anymore; information passed through Kirrin now. Kirrin was clearly highly trusted among Hak’kar’s household. When Jay did cross paths with Hak’kar socially, there was not even a flicker of recognition.
There seemed to be a lot of social events, and Jay felt left out. By the time of the Harvest Fest, he had become skilled at conniving his way in by bumping into someone who was already going. All he needed to do was know where the event was and cross paths with one of the others.
This time it was Diya’s cousin Jomar. No one looked twice at him as they walked into the estate just across the river. They headed straight for the wine, and then outside to get away from any gossipy adults. They found a nice spot where they had a good view. The two of them sat on the edge of a fountain that flickered through the colors of the rainbow. Jay found the fountain interesting.
“How does it work?” he asked.
“What?” Jomar said, turning to see what Jay was staring at.
“The fountain. How does it work?”
Jomar shrugged. “No idea,” he said, sounding uninterested. “It's a fountain. And it's built with some kind of magic. Maybe Chanmyr. Maybe Faenyr. It's water and pretty lights.”
Jay sensed that Jomar had no further desire to talk about fountains. The two of them sat for a while, Jomar pointing out this person or that, dropping what he considered juicy gossip. Jay drank it all in, letting someone else do his legwork for him, knowing Hak'kar would be interested in some of it.
People passed, the occasional greeting, or a cool nod. That was when Hak'kar appeared. The man appeared so suddenly that he might have sprung out of the fountain. Jay blinked, a tiny intake of breath.
“What?” Jomar asked. “Did you see someone? A girl you're avoiding, perhaps?” A sly grin accompanied the question, as did a nudge to Jay's ribs.
“No, nothing like that,” Jay said, as Hak'kar approached, with another man that Jay didn't recognize. That man coughed politely as the pair stopped directly in front of them.
“Father,” Jomar said, turning around and standing up in a hurry, becoming very formal.
His father nodded and looked expectantly at Jay.
“Oh, this is Jay, father. He has been
visiting here in the city. His parents are--” Jomar trailed off.
Jay stepped in. “Fish merchants, from the western provinces.” he said, fairly certain that this would be of no interest to Jomar's father. He wondered why Hak'kar had chosen to cross paths in public. Maybe his patron wanted a first-hand impression of how Jay was handling himself. Jay couldn't read the man. He was forever light and charming, but with a dark air around him, like storm clouds that were beyond the horizon. And he was no better informed now, as Hak'kar said nothing while father and son spoke.
“Mind the wine,” was the warning from Jomar’s father.
The advice was followed by a cool nod and slight dip of the chin by Hak'kar, dismissed. The two men disappeared into the throng. Jay turned his attention back to the fest but wondered if there was a hidden reason for that meeting.
With their usual flourish, the twins descended out of nowhere, full of their scandalous updates. Diya was with them as well, although she seemed more of a spectator in their sport of gossip. She hugged Jomar, and smiled at Jay, dipping her chin politely.
The twins dove into their chatter fest, laughing and poking fun at almost everyone. Jay didn’t think there was anyone in all of Tatak Rhe, that those two couldn’t cut down. Diya managed to pull Jay aside, and the twins barely noticed, since they had Jomar trapped between the two of them. Jay looked at her cousin, who didn’t seem to be complaining about his situation. He turned back to Diya, who just shrugged.
“I was at the archives the other day, with Leanna. We were looking at some of the old sculptures. Did you know I studied art, at school?”
Jay looked up at her, surprised and impressed. Of course Diya would have been sent away to school to be educated. She must know a lot about things he never imagined.
The twins chimed in, hearing that. “The only reason she studied art, was because she said it would take the very least amount of effort,” Twin-two said, laughing gleefully.
Jay looked at Diya, her eyes narrowed as she glared at the twins. Then she looked back at Jay, smiling.
