In the chaos that followed, the ambaka ridding their world of the enemy soldiers, they did not see Hero collapse to the ground. Only Ankh rushed to her aid, holding her in her last moments, willing her to stay though he knew she could not. Once the battle was over, they mourned the loss of dear Hero, who, in sacrificing her life, had paved the way for their future, reminding the ambaka of their ancestors and their roots.
From that day on, those born without the power to freeze were no longer cast out but brought into the fold as revered members of society. And, at the end of every year, for ten days and ten nights, the old ways of the ambaka were celebrated, and stories were told around campfires and hearths, reminding and retelling, so the tales and truths that made up the nation of the ambaka were never forgotten again.
“I s’pose this is me way of keepin’ that tradition alive,” Stone said sadly, coming to the end of his story and setting the recording device in front of the gap where he’d removed the fables book. “It’d be grand if a person could hear it one o’ these days an’ pass the tale on, like we used to do.”
“If they don’t, we will,” I promised.
With the book of fables safely in our grasp, we headed out of the dusty Lost and Found, moving down the hallway toward the Judgment Compounds. Another corridor led back toward the docking port, but I figured Namjoo would be waiting for her son in the Compounds, just as she’d said she would. Perhaps the Voice had given her directions as to where she might find her lost boy. In a way, I supposed this whole place was a giant Lost and Found, with everyone looking for something.
The noise from the Compounds hit us first, as we stepped out onto a wide metal walkway that overlooked what could only be described as a giant shantytown. The babble of thousands bombarded my ears, crowds forcing their way down narrow streets and across packed squares that had been fashioned out of junk and scrap. Houses had been built from any materials the inhabitants could get their hands on, and the smog rising to the domed glass roof was thick and hazy, the overpowering, sour scent of cramped bodies stinging my nostrils.
A large screen hung above the farthest wall of the tent city, with what looked like names flashing up every so often. There was an enormous clock beside it, too, so the poor folks awaiting their answers might know just how much time had passed. From the looks of the city below, many of them had been waiting a very long time, their clothes threadbare, their faces gaunt, their demeanor screaming despair. I couldn’t help wondering what they’d asked for, and why it was taking so long to receive word of their request. Maybe, the truth was, they simply had nowhere else to go. Xiphio had said this place was for the lost and desolate travelers of the universe, so perhaps this was their answer—a place to call home with a roof over their heads.
“How are we supposed to find Namjoo in all of this?” I muttered, turning to Navan. He held Nova in his arms, but she was starting to fuss.
“See if we can spot that scarlet cloak of hers. It was pretty unique.”
I nodded, narrowing my eyes as I scoured the throngs of people below. It was like a giant game of Where’s Waldo, only Namjoo wasn’t nearly so easy to pick out. We’d spent a long time in the Hall of the Voice of Judgment, but I figured she couldn’t have gone too far. Letting my gaze drift across the endless mixture of different species, I happened upon a figure standing to one side of a crowded square below, catching a glimpse of that unusual, shimmering red.
“There she is,” I said, pointing to her. “Stone, can you freeze her there for a few minutes, so she doesn’t run off? I mean, without freezing everyone else?”
The ambaka nodded. “No problemo, Ri, though I’ll have to be discreet, else I might bring some unwanted attention. Folks ain’t used to seein’ my sort no more.” He lifted the edge of his bandana, revealing just enough of his third eye. Namjoo didn’t seem to be moving much anyway, but, in that moment, she stilled completely, her cloaked face dipped as though in prayer.
“You’re going to have to stay here, aren’t you?” I realized the error in my plan.
“Aye, else I’ll have to let her go.”
“How about Navan and I go and meet with this woman while the rest of you stay up here and make it look like Stone isn’t doing anything weird?” I suggested. “You can unfreeze her once we reach her, and we’ll meet you back here once we’ve finished chatting with her. It might give you a chance to look at the book of fables, in case we end up needing to ask for something else.”
Lauren nodded. “Good idea. We’ll keep Stone company; you go and get your girl’s sweetblood.”
“Yeah, you know what I’m like with crowds,” Angie added, shuddering. “I’ll end up punching someone in the face for touching me, then we’ll really be in trouble.”
“Unless you want to come with us, Xiphio?” I asked, catching his mournful expression.
The merevin shook his head. “No, I shall remain here and see if I may be of any use in the reading of this fable book. I should like to help where I may.”
“Okay, then we’ll see you back here in a bit.” With that, I took Navan’s hand and headed across the walkway, moving quickly down a broad set of iron stairs that clanged as we walked. It led down to the ground floor of the ramshackle city. The crowds were overwhelming, the heat of so many bodies almost unbearable.
Struggling to breathe in the muggy, uncomfortable mass, I kept my eyes on the square where I’d seen Namjoo, letting Navan push through the throngs with his muscular bulk. He was holding Nova in his wing-sling, keeping her out of harm’s way against his chest as we pressed on. Had she been in my arms, I knew we’d have been jostled every which way, since nobody seemed to have any idea about spatial awareness.
Ten minutes of pushing later, we reached the corner of the square where I’d spied Namjoo. She was still standing there, her chin to her chest, frozen like a statue. Turning up to look at the walkway, I saw Stone surrounded by the others, his third eye fixed on the golden-skinned woman. Raising a hand, I gave him the signal to release her, which he did a split second later. Namjoo didn’t seem startled by the sudden release, or our unexpected appearance beside her. She was too distracted by her own grief, lifting her head to reveal crystalline tears streaming down her face, her chest heaving with wretched sobs, her hands clasped together in desperation.
“You poor thing,” I murmured. “What’s the matter, Namjoo? Has something happened? Did the Voice not answer your request?”
“Oh, sweetling, I did not see you there,” the woman replied, hiccupping through her tears. “You are kind… to ask. I received my answer, but… it was not the answer I longed for. My son is here… as I suspected he might be… but he is no longer with us. He took ill some weeks ago… of a plague that has been spreading through… this compound. They took him to the… infirmary, where all the sick… and injured are taken. He died… just last night.”
“I’m so sorry, Namjoo.”
“Had I managed to meet with the… Voice earlier, I might have seen… my Jimin in his final moments. Now, he is… lost to me. And there is only… me to perform the Saccharine ritual that shall send… him to his ancestors. It is not enough. He deserves more. I have failed my boy.”
I reached forward and brought Namjoo to me, holding her tight as she sobbed into my shoulder. The hood of her red cloak fell back to reveal elfin ears and shimmering skin that sparkled as though she were encrusted in a million jewels, those golden eyes squeezed shut in misery as she clung to me. Long, silver hair cascaded down her back, a twisted crown of gold and rubies interwoven amongst the silken locks. Had I heard her right? Had she said the word “Saccharine?”
Now, I understood why the Voice had sent me to find Namjoo—she had sweetblood running through her veins.
I cast a nervous look at Navan, who seemed to be thinking the same thing. How the hell could we ask this poor, grieving woman to give us the sweetblood from her veins, or the veins of her dead son? Another trick from the Voice of Judgment, no doubt, but there was nothing I wouldn’t do for my da
ughter. I just hoped that, mother-to-mother, she would understand.
“I know this is a terrible thing to ask you, when you’re suffering like this, but our daughter has a reliance on sweetblood,” I began quietly. “She’ll die without it, and there seems to be a shortage in the universe. Do you think there might be any way that you could donate some blood to us? I’m so sorry to ask. I wouldn’t if we weren’t totally desperate.”
Namjoo burst into tears all over again, clinging tighter to me.
“Oh God, please forgive me… I shouldn’t have asked. That was cruel of me. I should have known better than to—”
“You must not offer apology, sweetling, for I cry tears of joy!” Namjoo proclaimed. “I should be delighted to bring another being life, borne from the death of my son. It is part of our tradition in the Seoltang tribe of Saccharines, that our lifeblood be returned to the natural order of our universe. It is why my soul wept, knowing I would have to perform the ritual out here, where nothing is natural, and his light would not be passed back to the energy stream of the universe. You have given me hope, sweetling—you and your remarkable child.” She peered at Nova with her golden eyes. “Even her wings are scarlet, the color of my family’s name. It is a sure sign that she is supposed to receive this final gift of my son’s energy.”
I felt relief wash over me. “Are you sure?”
“I am certain, sweetling. It would be my honor to offer you this gift of life, and I know my Jimin would have felt the same. He was a generous boy with the purest heart; he would want this unique child to live.” She pulled away, lifting the hood of her cloak and placing it back over her silken hair. “Now, would you be so kind as to follow me? I shall lead us to the infirmary, where we may honor my son with his last rites. It shall be a blessing to say goodbye to him.”
Navan smiled. “Lead the way, Namjoo. We can’t thank you enough for what you are doing.”
“It is I who must give thanks. For, once his blood runs in your daughter’s veins, it shall feel as though he is living somewhere still, safe and well, though far from my arms. On sad nights, I shall be able to picture her breathing and running and laughing, and I shall know my boy’s spirit lives on.”
Tears pricked my eyes at the sentiment. There really was nothing more powerful than a mother’s unyielding love for her child. It could endure anything, even death and decay, lasting beyond any hardship and into eternity.
Chapter Eleven
After detouring via Stone and the others, to let them know where we were going, we set off across the swarming mass of Compound inhabitants toward a separate staircase that lay beneath the large screen, flashing names every couple of minutes. The others were going to explore the Compound awhile, meeting us back on top of the walkway once we’d returned from the infirmary.
Namjoo flashed a pass at the guards standing in front of the infirmary doors, and the bored-looking individuals gestured down the hallway to the right. There were two more hallways, one leading straight up and one leading off to the left, but the guards seemed insistent that we keep to the right. I couldn’t read what the sign said above the arched entrance, but the corridor veered away from the main flow of people. There was only a trickle going our way. As we walked, the temperature dropped, making it more and more obvious that we were getting close to a mortuary.
I shuddered. You’re doing this for Nova. This is all for Nova.
“What happened to your son?” I asked, eager to distract myself from the oncoming scent of chemicals and death. “How did he end up all the way out here—is it far from your home planet?”
Namjoo smiled sadly. “This Tower is rather far from our home world, yes. I have traveled a long way to be reunited with him.” She paused, casting her golden gaze downward. “My Jimin was traveling the universe as a trader of exported sweetblood when pirates hijacked his vessel and left him floating in the darkness with nothing but a spacesuit and several days’ worth of air. The Voice revealed it all to me.”
“So, how did he end up here?”
“A passing ship plucked him from space and delivered him here, as they were already on their way to the Tower in search of necessary parts. He remained here, awaiting someone who might grant him justice for the sweetblood that was stolen, before returning him home to the Seoltang tribe. Every drop of sweetblood must be accounted for—he could not return without recovering it. Of course, the Voice can only deal in viable requests… Jimin’s wish took longer to materialize. He remained here, waiting for his name to appear on the board, so he might go to the Hall of Guidance—the place where, I recently learned, those with more complex issues must go, after enough time has passed for the problem to discover a solution. Not everything here can be immediate, and there are many things that are entirely impossible.”
Navan nodded. “We’ve already discovered as much. The Voice was helpful with two of our requests, but there was one it couldn’t do anything about.”
“That is the way of this universe.” Namjoo sighed, the entrance to the mortuary getting closer. Those who walked ahead and behind us were sobbing quietly, their faces twisted with grief. My chest tightened as I wondered what had happened to the loved ones of these people. Had they waited a long time to be reunited? I wasn’t sure how it worked.
“Did his name ever get called?” I asked.
Namjoo shook her head. “He was still waiting when the sickness took him. With so many people, of so many species, crammed into one space, disease and infection are inevitable. My Jimin contracted a complaint of the lungs. We do not have particularly hardy respiratory systems, as a species, and it appears he succumbed to an otherwise ordinary bacterial infection that he did not have the antibodies to fight off. It might have troubled a creature like you with a cough and a few days’ bedrest, but it killed my poor boy.”
“I really am very sorry, Namjoo. I’m sorry you didn’t reach him in time.”
“I believe that is why I was given a pass by the stranger in the line, so I might have the chance to give him proper burial rites before I must say the final farewell. The Voice works in mysterious ways, but it cannot always give us what we want. In this case, it gave me just enough.”
Navan readjusted Nova, who was fussing more loudly. “Do you happen to know why there’s a shortage of sweetblood at the moment? We tried picking some up from the usual avenues, but everything was sold out or priced so high it would’ve bankrupted us, just to buy two vials.”
Namjoo nodded. “A new director has taken charge of Universal Export and put a clampdown on the export of organic fluids such as sweetblood, regardless of it being voluntarily produced as our primary saleable product. We are not like the Sonorans, who are stolen and trafficked against their will. Our blood is given and bottled freely, to bring wealth into our nations.” Her tone was bitter, as though she resented the decision. “Officers have come to the main planets where Saccharines reside, such as my planet, Beoljib, and the planets where the Satang, Satou, Halu, and Alsukar tribes reside, all across the universe. They have closed down the factories and prohibited the export of our blood on a commercial level. As such, considering how popular our product is, it sold out quickly and was not replenished, leading to a spike in prices and rapidly diminishing stock. I doubt the factories shall ever reopen, as the fines for disobeying this director are exceedingly high. Nobody dares to risk it.”
“And you don’t mind giving your blood like that, for others to use as a commodity?” Navan replied.
“Not at all. The way we retrieve it causes no harm, and there is no death involved. It is a perfectly viable means of ensuring the future wealth of our nations, but this director has said no more. I could understand if we were being forced into it, but we aren’t. Indeed, I wonder how we shall all fare, now that we have to find another means of bringing credits into our planets.”
I wanted to ask more, but the entrance to the mortuary came into view. Stepping through two guarded double doors, we entered an oddly pleasant space. The ceiling had a video playin
g across it, giving the false impression of a cerulean sky with clouds drifting past. The sound of chirping birds and running water could be heard, coming from speakers hidden in the walkway. Unlike the Compound, this vast chamber was scattered with lush green trees and endless bright flowers, though the scent of strong chemicals gave it away as a mortuary. It was too powerful for the perfumed blooms to overcome.
Lined up neatly at the sides of the main walkways were glass sarcophagi with seats around them, the deceased lying within. There was enough space between each one to ensure the relatives had some privacy, with a curious conveyor belt leading up to closed irises in the sides of the walls. I figured these closed holes either led out to space, or to some kind of incinerator. Perhaps that was what kept this space station turning. The thought wasn’t a pleasant one, but it was an efficient solution.
Namjoo followed a guide that had sprung up in front of her, leading us to the glass sarcophagus of her son, Jimin. He lay at the very back of the enormous chamber, looking infinitely peaceful, his shimmering skin still gleaming in the fake sunshine of the space. His eyes were closed, his long silver hair arranged neatly around a handsome face, a small smile playing upon his still lips, as though he had died without pain. A crown of gold and rubies rested atop his head, matching that of his mother, and his body was shrouded in a silky cloak of scarlet.
“My boy,” Namjoo whispered, taking a seat beside him. To my horror, the glass lid slid back, allowing Namjoo to grasp at the frozen hand of her son. Whatever mechanism was keeping all these dead bodies looking fresh, it seemed to work without the sarcophagus being closed. The engineer in me was curious; regardless of the use, this was an impressive feat of technology.
“What do you need us to do?” I asked, resting a hand on Namjoo’s shoulder.
Hotbloods 8: Stargazers Page 10