“You don’t know him!”
“You’re right. But I’ve had a lifetime of experience living in this kingdom, and none of it has given me reason to trust you people.” He stood. “Thanks for the juice.”
He took off at a jog, not glancing back.
7
The school only had a few textbooks. Before The Day, most books had gone digital. Scavengers were happy to sell us ancient, paper books, but they were very expensive.
Our teachers read their few books to us, and we repeated the words as a class, one phrase at a time. Every once in a while, I got to hold a book and caress its pages with my hands and eyes. Those were some of my favorite days.
-The First Generation: A Memoir by Liri Abrios
After dropping off the mugs in the kitchen, Nora returned to the main palace building and took the stairs to the second floor. “You can go in,” her father’s receptionist said.
Nora knocked, then opened the door. “It’s me, Dad.”
“Hey, sweetie, come on in.”
She entered. Her father’s office extended half the width of the building and included a large conference table and several windows overlooking the grounds. He had a desk, but he wasn’t behind it. Instead, he was seated in his favorite overstuffed chair, feet on an ottoman, reading from a thick sheaf of papers.
Nora sat in the chair next to his. He put the papers on a small table, took off his reading glasses, and ran a hand through his gray-streaked hair. “The Prime Minister of Cruine is already planning her spring visit, and she wants to renegotiate our entire trade agreement. But you didn’t come here to talk about that. Please, distract me from politics!”
Nora grinned. “Gladly. I just had a conversation with Krey West. He needs our help.”
Her father lifted his feet off the ottoman, then leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees. “Tell me more.”
As Nora related Krey’s story, her father’s gaze never left hers. At several points, his eyes widened, but he didn’t interrupt once. “I think this Zeisha girl is probably just an apprentice who’s enjoying being away from home,” Nora said, “but we should do something about the guards who threatened Krey. And I think it would be nice if we could get him some information about his girlfriend.”
Her father nodded thoughtfully, then stood. “I’ll be right back.” A moment later, Nora heard him speaking to his receptionist. He returned and sat in his chair.
“Krey West is an impressive young man,” the king said, “and if he’s distracted by these concerns, we should try to help him.”
“I knew you’d say that. Where do we start?”
Her father held out both hands in a familiar gesture of caution. “I didn’t choose my words wisely. When I said we, I didn’t mean you’d be involved.”
“Dad, I want to help him! I have a lot more time to devote to this than you do.”
“That’s true. But you just told me he was attacked today. I’m not letting you get involved in that. And while I don’t have time to look into this personally, I know who does.” His gaze shifted, focusing behind Nora. “Dani, come in.”
Nora turned to see her Aunt Dani entering the room. Her long, black, wavy hair was pulled into a low bun, and her full lips were smiling. She sat next to Nora.
“Nora just told me about a young man who needs our help,” Nora’s father said. “I’d like you to take the lead on this. She can give you all the details.”
“Of course.”
Nora returned her aunt’s smile. “Thank you.” It was just like Aunt Dani to commit without knowing what she was agreeing to. When Nora’s mom had died ten years earlier, Dani had moved to the palace. In the early months after the tragedy, Nora had cried in her aunt’s arms every day. Dani was grieving her own loss—the queen had been her only sister—but she’d always had time to comfort her niece. Dani had a bedroom near Nora’s and an office near Ulmin’s. The one thing she didn’t have was a title. It would’ve been difficult to fit Household Administrator, Advisor to the King, and Emotional Supporter to the Princess on a nameplate.
The king cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I need to prepare for my trip. Tomorrow I leave for more negotiations with the New Therroans.”
Nora stood and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks for your help, Dad.” She turned to her aunt. “Can we go to your office so I can give you all the details?”
Krey ran from Cellerin City back toward the palace. That morning, Ovrun had offered to loan him a push scooter, but Krey preferred running.
His first apprenticeship class hadn’t gone well. The teacher, an old feather eater, had droned on and on about various catalysis hypotheses. Then he’d asked his few pupils to give their own input.
Krey hated such pointless discussions. Even supposed experts had no idea how magic worked. If Krey ate a meal of feathers and bread, both things landed in his stomach. How did his body turn his fuel into magic and his food into physical energy? Nobody could answer that question or any of the countless others he liked to ask. Why did magic eaters first display their talents around five years old? Why did they crave their fuel for years before that?
All the uncertainty tortured Krey. The technology needed to answer such questions had once existed. But the same stone that gave Krey magic had killed most of the world’s scientists and returned Anyari to a pre-technological era. The universe could be maddeningly ironic sometimes.
As soon as Krey had discovered his talents, he’d started attending a weekly magical training course in Tirra, like all young magic eaters did. Within three years, he got fed up with the lack of answers to his questions. He convinced his parents to let him quit the course, promising to read books on magic instead. He usually chose practical tomes over theoretical ones. If he couldn’t discover how his body turned feathers and ice into magic, at least he could learn to use his talents more efficiently.
This morning, he hadn’t even tried to hide his lack of enthusiasm for his master’s theoretical ponderings. The man hadn’t appreciated his new pupil’s attitude. Krey would have to behave better. If he got kicked out of the apprenticeship program, he couldn’t stay in Cellerin City. And he had to stay if he wanted information on Zeisha.
After grabbing two sandwiches from the dorm’s kitchen and eating them in his room, Krey walked down the hall to the bathroom. A hot shower washed away the last bits of frustration the run hadn’t taken care of.
This was the first place Krey had ever lived that had hot, running water. According to Ovrun, ash eaters (or fire lysters, as people around here called them) worked in the basement under the palace, heating water in boilers. The water was used not only for showers and sinks, but also in pipes that warmed every room in the offices and residence. Krey wished heated air could be pumped into his dorm too, but with hot water available at a twist of the tap, it was hard to complain.
When he was done, he walked to the palace’s rear entrance, where a guard waited. Krey greeted him and held out the medallion he’d been given. It was stamped with numbers that indicated where he could go on the palace grounds. The guard opened the door, and Krey walked down a set of stairs that led straight into the basement library.
The room was huge; Krey guessed it took up a quarter of the space underneath the palace’s main building. He stepped past the empty reception area and stood between two rows of tall shelves, savoring the scent of paper and leather. Working afternoons in this place just might make up for his pointless morning classes.
A librarian approached and set him to work shelving books. The task gave Krey time to think about Aunt Min and Aunt Evie. He’d written a letter to them, but they wouldn’t have received it yet. What if one of them got hurt or sick? It would be weeks before he got word of it.
Krey knew it was pointless to worry about such things, but after what had happened to his parents, dread colored all his relationships. When everything seemed to be going well, life tended to change for the worse. Zeisha’s disappearance had confirmed that.
He pic
ked up another stack of books. As he shelved them, he yawned. He’d had multiple nightmares last night, all centering on his attack in the city. Even now, his heart raced as he recalled that strong hand covering his mouth and nose.
Shaking his head, he distracted himself by remembering his conversation with Nora. He chuckled under his breath at her odd combination of brash action—trying to kiss a guy she barely knew who, let’s face it, hadn’t treated her that well—and innocence. Did she really not understand that flirting with the palace staff would cause more trouble than it was worth?
Krey was convinced that her impulsive kiss was motivated by more than her strange combination of privilege and naiveté. Nora spent almost all her time on the palace grounds, around adults she had little in common with. She must be terribly lonely. In her shoes, he’d probably be making out with fence posts.
By the stone, do I actually feel sorry for her?
“Krey?”
Hearing the low voice, he turned from the shelf he was facing. His pace had slowed as he ruminated, and he figured the librarian had arrived to remind him to stay on task.
Instead, he saw Nora. His eyebrows leapt up.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
He matched her tone. “It’s fine, I was just—it’s fine.” He couldn’t exactly tell her she’d caught him thinking about her.
She looked down at the cart and picked up a thin volume. “Of Streets and Stars! I’ve been waiting for this book to be returned! One of the staff had it for at least a month.”
“You let staff check out books?”
“Of course. You can too. All the preday books have to stay in the library though.” She gestured to one of the library’s far corners, and he yearned to go check out the ancient books there. “We even have the original, handwritten version of Liri’s memoir,” she said.
“The First Generation? You have the original?”
Nora grinned. “Of course. Liri’s my direct ancestor. Eleven generations back.”
He shook his head. “I’d love to see that book.”
“I’ll show you sometime, when you’re off duty.” She lifted the book she’d picked up. “Have you read this one yet?”
“I haven’t even heard of it.”
“Really? It’s very popular.”
“I tend to read the classics.”
“Oh—you’ll have to tell me your favorites sometime.”
He offered her a noncommittal nod. Yep. Lonely.
Nora tucked the book under her arm. “I came to give you an update. My father asked my Aunt Dani to find information on Zeisha.” She grinned, like she expected him to bow in humble gratitude.
“I know; she sent me a note last night requesting Zeisha’s full name and the address I visited.”
“Oh—right. She’s very detail oriented, so she’s the perfect person to help. In fact, she already sent two guards to that address. Nobody was home.”
“Okay.” He doubted Nora’s aunt had sent anyone; she probably just wanted to get her gullible niece off her back.
“They’ll try again in a day or two. Plus, Dani found out we do have a small, elite apprenticeship program that sends recruiters around the country. But we know you want to be sure that’s where Zeisha is, so Dani put in a records request to confirm it.”
“How long will that take?”
“Anywhere from ten days to three weeks.”
“Three weeks?”
Nora held a finger to her lips.
Krey brought his voice down to a harsh whisper. “Your aunt’s part of the royal family; can’t she get information faster?”
“I asked her the same thing. But we have to go through the queue like everybody else. How would it look if we took advantage of the system?”
“Just like I said,” he murmured. “Bureaucracy.” He picked up another stack of books and turned back to the shelf.
“Uh . . . I’ll keep you posted.”
Nora stood there for at least a minute. He ignored her, then heard her walk away.
He shook his head. Three weeks. Like I’m gonna stand for that.
8
From my bedroom, I could see the little chapel that held the stone. Sometimes my friends asked, “Isn’t it scary living so close to that thing?” I pretended it wasn’t a big deal.
But when the chapel was closed to the public, I often stood before the broken stone, in awe of its power. Sometimes I even talked to it. I don’t remember my words, but they were always variations on two questions: How? Why?
-The First Generation: A Memoir by Liri Abrios
After dinner in the dorm with a few other residents, Krey walked to the chapel.
The back door was painted black, and a silver Rimstar hung on it. Krey ran his fingers along the shape, tracing its eight points and the teardrop-shaped loops at the end of each one. It was the primary symbol of the Rimorian faith. Krey and his Aunt Evie attended a service at the chapel in Tirra every Sunday, and touching the cold, metal star made Krey feel a little more at home.
He knocked lightly. The woman who answered the door wore emissary vestments: tunic, slacks, and a long scarf, all in gray. Narrow bands of blue and black, Cellerin’s royal colors, ran along the scarf’s long edges. “May I help you?” she asked with a smile.
“I work at the palace, and I was told I could worship in the chapel.”
“Of course. Come in.”
He followed her into a hallway, brightly lit with several electric bulbs. She opened a door near the end of the hall. Krey’s eyes took in the little chapel that attracted hundreds of visitors a week. The door opened onto a tiny stage, in front of which sat twenty chairs. In the middle of the stage was a large, stone pedestal. Atop it, enclosed in a thick, glass case, sat the stone itself. The cause of Anyari’s apocalypse.
“I’m sure I don’t need to tell you this,” the emissary said, “but please don’t touch the case. If it moves even a little, an alarm will sound. We can’t risk anyone touching the stone. I know of two people who’ve handled it without gloves, and both died within a day.”
“Of course.”
“I’ll lock up for the night at eight. And you’re welcome to join us for a service every Sunday morning at ten.”
“How do you decide who gets seats?”
“Sunday services are only for those who live on the palace grounds. The attendance is quite small.”
A religious service only for the elite? Krey tried to keep the scowl off his face.
The emissary left, and Krey slowly approached the stone. It was broken into several irregularly shaped pieces. They were shiny and black, like highly polished obsidian.
The pieces were arranged to show how they’d originally fit together, with several simmets of space in between each one. A layer of iridescent, orange material covered every broken face. The stone had cracked along those shimmering veins.
Much of the stone’s history was unknown. Then again, the same could be said for humanity’s history. Historians did, however, agree on the basic facts: over six thousand years ago, colonists had traveled to Anyari from Earth, humanity’s home world.
Hundreds of people had landed on Anyari, but surely thousands had begun the journey. Apparently something had killed most of them along the way, also destroying the technology and records they’d brought with them. The only supplies the survivors salvaged were seeds from Earth.
The small group of colonists established a home on Anyari. Before leaving Earth, their DNA had been modified so they could eat Anyarian plants and animals. And genetic enhancement wasn’t their only asset. They also benefited from the guidance of seers, mysterious individuals whose prophecies helped their growing population. Over millennia, Anyarians developed advanced technology. They lessened or eradicated war, hunger, and many diseases.
Then, two hundred years ago, preday archeologists had pulled a mysterious stone out of a cave. It broke apart, spreading orange light over all of Anyari, killing billions
of humans and bringing magic into the world.
Everyone knew that story, but knowing what happened was different than knowing how it happened. Supposedly the stone had emitted some sort of radiation, but no one understood how radiation could cover an entire planet, much less create magic. Krey wondered if they’d ever have answers.
Some people claimed this very black-and-orange stone had also caused the tragedy on the colonists’ ship, when it penetrated through the vessel’s shields and hull. Nora’s ancestors, who were some of The Day’s well-known survivors, had defended that hypothesis. As Krey gazed at the deep, black pieces, with their orange edges that matched the sky, he could see why people believed the old story. It made sense that the otherworldly stone which had killed most of Anyari’s humans two centuries ago had also decimated the colonists six millennia before.
Krey pulled his gaze away from the stone. As fascinating as it was, he had bigger problems than the unknowable history of a magical artifact. He sat in a chair in the front row, rested his elbows on his knees, and buried his face in his hands.
His prayer was silent and simple. God, bring me to Zeisha, or bring her to me. May it be.
“Fancy meeting you here.” Krey grinned at Ovrun, who stood in a corridor in front of the records hall door.
“Any problems getting in?” Ovrun whispered.
“I told the guard at the back door I couldn’t sleep and wanted to read in the library. Once I was in, I didn’t have any trouble getting to the second floor.”
“Good. Be quick and quiet in there, okay? I’d like to keep my job.”
“I owe you.”
“Big time.” Ovrun looked both directions down the deserted hall, pulled a key out of his pocket, and opened the door. “Someone’s coming to give me a break at two, and before I leave, he’ll walk through the records hall. It’s policy. So make sure you’re out by quarter ‘til, in case he’s early.”
The Frost Eater (The Magic Eaters Trilogy Book 1) Page 6
