Between Starfalls

by S Kaeth

  She hesitated, looking at the box. “I have never heard of any Kamalti treasuring something old and broken over something new and pristine.”

  “Your obsession with the new—is that why you keep badgering your father to buy those steam-belching machines with gears?”

  Answer frowned. “It is not an obsession. It is progress.”

  She started to hand the package back to him, then recoiled. Blood spattered his hands and far up his arms, even sprinkling over his chest. She’d been too worried about herself to notice it before. “Were you injured?”

  He laughed. “No, this blood isn’t mine.”

  Her hands flew to her mouth. Taunos had nearly killed someone right in front of her, and now he was acting as if nothing had happened. How was he so calm? What kind of animal had she brought into her home? Except he wasn’t an animal. He knew exactly what he was doing.

  That was even more dangerous.

  She shuddered. Composure. She must keep her composure. Her mother would be very disappointed in her if she made a public scene. She turned, walking carefully toward home, with Taunos following her just as his position dictated. She’d been saved by an ebr. Taunos had saved her when she was vulnerable.

  And yet, his life was in her hands. His frightening, violent life. What was she to make of that? How could she repay such a debt? Indebted to an ebr, indeed—her mother would be appalled at such a thought!

  She kept a firm hold of herself, even ignoring the vagrants she had begun to see more and more often near her home, until she shut her front door behind them. She paused there a moment, eyes closed, leaning against the door.

  “Shall I send up a cup of tea?” Taunos asked.

  Answer blinked at him. Bile rose in her, and before she could dash to the washroom, she vomited all over Taunos.

  ~

  Answer smiled at her guests to cover the stiffening of her shoulders as Taunos entered the dining room. Around the table sat her fellow Scouts, all dressed in their finery as befitted a dinner party. Everything was going smoothly. So far, Taunos had maintained his manners, leaving her waiting for the inevitable disrespect. Since the incident in the market, she hadn’t decided what to make of him. He frightened her, and yet…

  Oracle was ranting. “Did you truly hear the Justices this morning? I believe they think they are better than us simply because they interpret the Law. But who upholds the Law?”

  “The Justices have their function, just as we have ours,” said mild-mannered Rubric.

  Taunos ladled the soup into bowls and served them, the saucers clattering as he set them down.

  Answer winced, but no one took any mind, so she let it go for now. What a shame that the same herbs that blocked him from accessing his magic made him so very bumbling as well. She needed him to impress her guests—there was no way they could top the distinction of having civilized an ebr from the Outside.

  “They should give us more credit, that is all,” Oracle said.

  “How much more credit do you want, Oracle? Truly, I think you wish the Scouts to lead the Kamalti people!” Epiphany waved Taunos away as he paused to fill her goblet with wine.

  Taunos shuffled to the staging table on the far wall, where Tegil was arranging bread on a tray. He picked up a teapot, and Answer stifled a wince as Tegil rebuked Taunos loudly enough to hear across the room.

  “Not that one, the red tea. The black tea comes after the meal, you imbecile. And don’t forget the bread,” Tegil scolded. “You do not have much for brains, have you?”

  Answer plastered her smile in place, though she wished she could hide in her humiliation. Taunos hadn’t forgotten. This was another of his small rebellions. She would have to talk with Ketrik afterward. Her guests didn’t seem to mind, but both Tegil and Taunos needed further lessons in etiquette.

  “And why not? It is we, after all, who protect the entire Kamalti civilization,” Oracle replied.

  Answer spoke up, hoping to distract her guests from the mess her ebrs were making. “There is a balance to maintain. Yes, in some things we should be consulted first, I agree on that count, Oracle. But the Justices are better suited to some tasks than we, and the Philosophers in others.”

  Tea kettle and bread in hand, Taunos returned to the table just as Victor spoke, eyeing her ebr sidelong. “Are you not afraid, having it here?”

  “And does the smell not bother you?” Rubric asked.

  “He only smells of the Outside. I have made him wash many times, but it does not come off. It must be their natural smell.” Answer waved her hand.

  “Well, I could not stand it. I do not know how you do.” Rubric eyed Taunos as he placed the bread before her and filled her cup with tea.

  Their criticisms irritated her like an ill-fitting shoe. They were meant to be impressed, even jealous. If she were to be honest, she would confide that Taunos was an assault on her senses. He smelled of the Outside, and his movements were too big and too fast. They lacked the careful, focused precision she was used to, although every once in a while, she caught him attempting to attain those attributes. His voice was too loud and without nuance. She occasionally heard him singing dreary mourning songs full of melancholy, and his voice had none of the refinements of the fine Kamalti opera singers she was accustomed to. Still, she did not forbid him his singing. Indeed, she’d been surprised to learn the savages had music.

  “You know their history. It could snap at any time,” Victor said.

  “I do not think so,” Answer said, watching Taunos critically as he placed the other plate of bread on the center of the table, filling the rest of the teacups as he went.

  Ever the perfectionist, Epiphany gawked at him. “Look at all the scars. What savages, to deal out such punishment!”

  Numerous scars scattered across his torso, arms, and legs. His old, crude clothing had hidden most of them. Kamalti clothes were more proper, but they revealed all those imperfections. Taunos had told her most warriors Outside, including the two who had come with him, had many scars from battle, mostly on the left side of the body. Her fellow Scouts—those who were trained for patrolling, anyway—were better than the savages, weren’t they? Or did they have scars as well?

  “You know, they are not proper people. They will not rejoin Kamalti society after their ebr term is up,” Victor said.

  Answer nodded as Taunos left the room. “I only hope to civilize him a little before he leaves, even though he fights me every chance he gets.”

  “Why are you so soft on it?”

  “He saved my life twice. No civilized person has ever done that. I think that earns him some favor.”

  Her friends scoffed.

  “Anyway, he has some fantastic stories and strange ideas. He is quite entertaining,” Answer said, finding herself compelled to stand up for him. “Just the other day—”

  “Oh, Answer,” interrupted Bluff. “Are you a Scout or a Philosopher? You are talking like your father. Your mother would know better than to say such things!”

  “Be careful that your fun does not keep you from Opportunities,” agreed Specter, who had been fairly quiet. “Were you to cease to be a Scout, you would also cease to be Answer.”

  Bluff raised a finger, assuming the same pose he took when lecturing on the Guild floor. “You have your Future to think about, remember? What a shame if some savage should be the cause for you to miss out on Advancement—or a good marriage!”

  “What was your name before you joined the Scouts? Do you want to give up all you have earned, including your Scouting name?”

  Answer scowled, fury rising in her. Her guests were the closest thing she had to friends, but they were not friends the way she’d learned Taunos thought of the term. His life sounded so simple, without civilization’s constant pressures to outperform one’s peers. None of her guests would worry about her beyond jostling for position and reputation, nor did she concern herself with them. “Let me worry about keeping my name.”

  “Anyway,” whispered Victor, his tone ea
ger, “Is it true he has magic?”

  “Victor! This is not polite conversation for a dinner table,” said Bluff.

  “Yes. I witnessed it myself. It was horrible,” Answer replied, relieved at the change of topic. Maybe now they would be duly impressed.

  “Tell us about it!” urged Oracle, waving away the protests of Bluff, who was now glaring his disapproval.

  Answer leaned forward. Here, she could demonstrate her greater knowledge. “They can move faster than any being should. They can move things without touching them.”

  “How terrifying!” breathed Epiphany.

  “How do you keep it from killing you in your sleep?” Victor asked, only to be sternly rebuked by Bluff.

  “Victor!”

  Victor gave an apologetic shrug.

  Answer waved him off. “No, it is alright. It is something I thought of. After all, they are barbarians. I could think they might be okay with something like that. So, I have been putting a little of that sleep medicine in his food and drink.”

  “How do you manage it?” Victor wondered.

  “Well, I had to bring my head ebr into the arrangement. He thinks Taunos knows.”

  “Excuse me, I am sorry, Answer, forgive me for interrupting you,” broke in the man who had been cautioning them all about etiquette. “But… Taunos?”

  “That is his name.”

  “You use its name?” exclaimed Oracle incredulously.

  “This is exactly what I mean, Answer,” said Bluff. “I think you are too close to this ebr. It is an Outsider, after all. Be watchful lest your fondness for it be misconstrued.”

  “Honestly, Bluff, perhaps you care overmuch about my image,” Answer snapped.

  The man shut his mouth, set his jaw, and sat back, drawing proper manners and etiquette around himself like a robe of dignity.

  Answer sniffed and lifted her chin. “Anyway, Ketrik forces him to drink and eat every day, to make sure he has enough of the medicine.”

  “It is a boon to have a faithful ebr like Ketrik,” Bluff said stiffly. “We must hope he can save you from your folly.”

  ÌTAL-EHREI

  Chapter Fifteen

  Courtship is a boring thing, but I will include notes on Rinaryn courtship only because you plague me so, Lenatis! The one initiating courtship will carve a wooden bowl, sometimes offering it to their partner at the beginning of formal courtship, sometimes not until the end. This seems to depend on the solidity of the relationship and on how complex the engraving is, for some get quite intricate with scenery carved into the outside of the bowl. The courtship proceeds with the initiator giving gifts and doing tasks for their partner which they’re very much capable of doing on their own, and the parents of the couple consult with the heads of their villages on the match.

  -journal excerpt

  Kaemada stared out the window. Everything was wrong here. Dread sat in her stomach like a stone from the moment she awoke until she finally drifted off to a restless sleep, cradling her son close as if she could spare him from the terrors that entrapped them.

  But there was no way to save him from the cruelty of the palace. She strove against the horrors, even knowing she would lose, because she couldn’t bear to surrender. Grateful tears sprang to her eyes every time the servants brought their meals to their rooms; her heart struggled to beat for fear each time they came with dresses for her and suits for Eian. The dinners were the hub of the palace’s torture, the life spring of Eian’s nightmares.

  The past ten meals had featured the king: decreeing a section of homes to be burned, leaving their inhabitants to choose between fire or Angels; accusing one of his guards as a traitor and forcing each of the others to take a turn flaying him during the meal; and beheading his head chef for overcooking the meat, serving his head the following morning at breakfast on a platter.

  The worst part was having to remain expressionless. Those women who ruined the king’s mirth by sobbing or vomiting were singled out for additional cruelty. There was a vast difference among the women. Captive women and children all lived in the same wing. Others like Aleis, those who joined in with the king’s carefree laughter, apparently had rooms elsewhere in the palace and tended to be seated closer to the king, a fact that suited Kaemada just fine. The farther she was from those awful eyes, the better.

  Kaemada sighed, brushing a lock of Eian’s unruly hair back from his face. He had finally fallen asleep after being up all night with nightmares. She needed to find a way out of here, but every plan she’d thought of was too risky. If they caught her, they’d hurt Eian—or kill him. Where were Ra’ael and Takiyah and Taunos? They should be here by now if the Kamalti took everyone they captured to the City. But how could she contact them? She had tried to think like them, to see the solutions they would see, but such heroics evaded her. As always, she needed them. She leaned her head against the invisible barrier that covered the window, wincing at its cold hardness.

  Homesickness gripped her like a plague. She longed to walk through the forest and feel the ground beneath her feet, to let the bird song and fresh air renew her. She missed the ancient stories and songs that steadied her spirit and the easy medicine the forest provided so generously. Worst of all was the lack of wind. Without it, she couldn’t breathe. She’d never realized before how much she depended on even the brief presence of a breeze, but here, locked away from the wind, the spirits seemed dead.

  The sun shone on the barrier as she watched, and her prayers flowed like futile tears. Eloí, please help us. They had to get out of here. Somehow, everything would be ok. It had to be. The alternative was too terrible to bear thinking about.

  The door loomed at her across the room. Somehow, the palace psions hadn’t discovered her yet. Nightmares of her time in the throne room, of what the king might do to Eian, stole her sleep. She shivered. The comforts around them mocked them, also mocking the suffering of those outside the palace. She avoided them, instead curling up at night in the center of the room in a tight ball with Eian, as if they could shrink together and disappear.

  She shivered again, the window’s cold biting at her. She was always shivering, growing thin from sleeplessness, fear, and the fact that supper was bird more often than not. Kaemada still couldn’t choke down such sacrilege, though her stomach grumbled. Her son shifted in her arms and she brushed his smooth cheek with the back of her fingers. Her fingernails were ragged and bloody. She didn’t remember chewing them.

  Desperately, Kaemada wracked her mind for any way to escape. She’d tried the window but couldn’t break through the barrier, even after she’d smashed furniture on it and filled her hands with splinters while trying to poke holes in it or pry it away. She’d tried the fireplace, but Eian had slipped before they’d gotten halfway up the chimney, and her left arm and leg had nearly given out at the same time. She’d tried wandering off from her guards, but when they found her they ripped Eian from her arms and pinned him to the wall by his throat, while two others beat her, and then crushed her into the stone blocks until she passed out from lack of air.

  She hadn’t made another attempt after that. No matter how hard she fought to protect her son, the guards were stronger. Her left side was still weak and tended to droop when she tired. How could she risk Eian in another escape? Or was it riskier to wait and try to find another way, braving the king all the while? Closing her eyes, Kaemada forced herself to take a breath, shuddering with the panic clawing its way up her throat.

  To distract herself, she turned her thoughts to the peril of the other captives. She hated the sight of the women’s carefully expressionless faces, and the children were more like statues than children, their eyes always filled with dread of the next coming horror. She couldn’t bear to consider the possible reasons there were no boys old enough to go on their yah, while girls ranged in all ages. It was worse to know that she and Eian were well on their way to looking the same way. How could she help them when she couldn’t even save herself and her son?

  A sharp knoc
k sounded at the door. Eian jerked awake, clawing at her in panic, and she clung to him in return, her heart racing. She kissed his cheek, eyes fixed on the door. Another rap echoed and she trembled. The servants always just came in. Why would someone be knocking?

  Gently untangling Eian’s arms from around her neck, she motioned for him to stay put. As if approaching a wild animal, Kaemada crept to the door. Her hand shook as she hauled it open.

  A guard stood in the doorway. Her eyes flickered over his face, some small relief whispering through her. He was not one of the guards who mimicked the king. Instead, she had marked him as one who at least did not go out of his way to cause misery. It seemed he caused harm only to keep up appearances, to save his own skin. But why was he at her door?

  The guard raised his eyebrows at her scrutiny and walked past her, breaking her grip on the handle with casual ease. He stopped in the center of the room as she quickly shut the door and watched him, frozen with fear at the unwelcome change. His eyes flickered over everything, but when he stared too long at Eian, crouching by the wall, Kaemada placed herself between them.

  “Why are you here?” Fire laced her voice. Guards had never entered her rooms, not since the first day.

  He stared down at her, and she frantically donned her mask of expressionlessness, her only flimsy armor against the nightmares of the palace. He tucked his hands behind his back. “Are you comfortable?”

  Kaemada stared, frozen into that blank mask.

  His mouth twisted. “I know you heard me.”

  “I’m a prisoner here.” Her tone was flat. “My life and the life of my son are in danger.”

  He smiled. “My name’s Theron. If there’s anything I can do for making you more comfortable, let me know.”

  She shook her head slowly. “You… want to make us more comfortable… while we’re prisoners.”

  “There’s no reason you can’t live in comfort. Why think of yourselves as prisoners?”