by R. C. Lewis
“Aelo, we brought him, as requested.”
I don’t know that voice, don’t know what it means, but Jahmari ignores it. “You shouldn’t need this anymore,” the doctor concludes, removing the device from my temple.
The returning sharpness of the world jars me like being dunked in ice water. Not entirely pleasant, except the pain’s down to a dull ache. That’s good. I can also see clearly enough to notice Tiav has disappeared from my side.
“What were you thinking, you—!”
There he is, or his voice at least. Not that I’ve ever heard anything like that tone coming from him before, not even when he was angry with me. And if I’m not mistaken, the last word was in Agnacki. I push myself up to see what’s happening.
What’s happening is Tiav standing nose-to-nose with Kalkig, who has a pair of keepers flanking him.
“You know what I was thinking,” the Agnac counters. “She’s dangerous, and you’ve become a fool.”
That’s the same old argument, but Tiav doesn’t have the same old response.
He punches his best friend.
What follows is so interspersed with Agnacki words on both sides, I can’t make sense of either of them. I don’t really have to. Kalkig obviously wants to strike back at Tiav but doesn’t dare with the keepers on him, and Tiav obviously wants his taunting shoves to goad the Agnac into tangling anyway.
The room is a bomb, and the little parts are clicking into place for a massive explosion.
I don’t like explosions—they’re Ciro’s territory. I grab a piece of equipment from a bedside table, hope it’s as sturdy as it looks, and drop it. The resulting thud does its job, silencing the boys and drawing attention to me, but I can’t say anything. It seems unlikely Tiav will be able to guess what I’m thinking when I’m not sure what I’m thinking in the first place.
Then behind the boys, Shiin steps into the doorway.
“Liddi’s right,” she says. “That’s quite enough.”
Sure, that’s probably what I was thinking. It gets Tiav to back off a few steps from Kalkig, but his temper hasn’t cooled much.
“I don’t think it’s anywhere near enough,” he says.
“Kalkig defied my instructions, betraying my confidence,” Shiin says. Kalkig ducks his head like he did before, clearly more comfortable defying Tiav than the primary Aelo herself. “He will face consequences for that.”
Tiav’s jaw is so tense, it’s a wonder he can form words. “He did more than defy an Aelo, Mother. Liddi could’ve been killed.”
Shiin puts both hands on her son’s shoulders. “I know, Tiav,” she says softly. “Please.”
It’s such a maternal gesture, a tone I haven’t heard in her voice before, not calling him by his whole name…like they should be alone, just family. The empty spaces next to me pull with an ache for my own parents like I haven’t felt in years.
The words work. Tiav returns to my side, and the keepers take Kalkig away again.
“I’m sorry,” Tiav says, touching my arm. “How are you feeling?”
I point and flex my toes, testing the formerly broken leg. It feels like someone fastened the bone together with rivets, but several days ago. Not perfect, but not terrible.
“She’ll be fine,” Jahmari supplies, picking up the instrument I dropped. “Sore for a few days, certainly, but fine.”
“I’m glad to hear that, but I’m afraid Kalkig’s actions have had a deeper impact than just Liddi’s well-being, Shiin says.”
I don’t like the sound of that, and neither does Tiav, judging by the sharpness in his eyes. “The council?” he asks.
“Yes, the council. The senior councillors have kept Liddi’s origin secret, but now that it’s widely known, they feel they must address the issue officially. Liddi’s been summoned to the capital.”
By the time Liddi was thirteen, she’d visited all the Seven Points except one. Concerts on Yishu, mountain climbing on Erkir, the beach house on Pramadam…she’d even been to Tarix and Banak. The former had been a day trip with Fabin to hear a lecture on ethics versus necessity in the modern age, and the latter a week to help Vic install a new set of training simulators at one of the military academies.
But she never went to Neta. The boys did sometimes when new laws that would impact the company were being considered, but that was rare. As Durant said, there was nothing to see on Neta except people arguing in circles and skillfully dodging questions by weaving minimal truths into their answers.
Definitely nothing to interest Liddi. She got enough of all that from the media-casts.
MOST EVERYONE INVOLVED in the riot has been rounded up and taken to the detention facility, and the hospital has an underground parking area so we don’t have to go outside. That doesn’t stop a team of six keepers from escorting us to the streamer we’ll take to the capital. I’m not sure whether they’re more concerned with someone attacking me or Tiav. As long as they’re shielding both of us, I’ll take it.
Shiin can’t come with us. There has to be at least one Aelo in Podra at all times, so it’s either her or Tiav. I’d be a lot more anxious without him with me, so maybe that’s half the point.
Tiav tells me Podra is the center of all things Aelo- and Khua-related, and the capital—Chalu—is where the actual government sets up shop. Seems sensible enough. After all, Neta is where the Seven Points government is located, but no one bothers with them unless we have to. Sampati’s year is the standard for all the Points. Government power versus cultural power.
Jahmari, however, does come along, ostensibly to make sure he didn’t miss anything in patching me up. Shiin tries to tell him it isn’t necessary, but he insists.
It’s the second time someone’s said Jahmari doesn’t need to bother with something. Just like when Luo said the cuts on my arm were beneath his concern. Jahmari’s more important than just a doctor, but no one’s ever said why.
And he knew about me from the beginning. When Tiav said the Agnac found out where I came from, Jahmari knew Shiin had made it confidential. It wasn’t news to him.
Thoughts about Jahmari aren’t enough to keep me distracted during the lengthy streamer ride to Chalu. The gut-churning contradiction of what I see and what I feel is even worse with the lingering echoes of being trampled. Tiav stays close, stroking my hair.
It’s something my family would do, but Tiav definitely isn’t family. The mix of familiar and new burns through me, but it still isn’t distracting enough.
I haven’t seen my brothers in days, I haven’t made real progress in helping them, and now I have to worry about government officials and being attacked in the street. It isn’t good. That’s the real distraction from the streamer ride, as the anxiety tightens on my lungs.
We reach Chalu, and I learn something new. The vehicle can move at a normal speed. Jahmari slows it down as we enter the city.
And it really is a city.
Buildings stretch like fingers reaching for the clouds, lights and signs and symbols decorating them like jewelry. Streamers dance along the streets, far too many to safely zip along as usual, even with the computers managing traffic. And people—all Ferinne’s different types of people everywhere.
Except Izim. I’ve heard the alien race mentioned but still haven’t met any, and everyone I see still fits the races I have met. I take Tiav’s com-tablet and put in my earpiece.
“Eye-zimm?”
“No, there aren’t any here. We communicate with them, but they mostly keep to themselves.”
We wind through the streets, arriving at a particular building, but Tiav puts a hand on my arm to keep me in place. Only Jahmari gets out.
“Good luck, my friends,” he says. “Tiav, keep me informed, yes? I’ll see you soon.”
The door closes, and Tiav taps a command for the streamer’s next destination. I take his hand so he’ll look at me, and he guesses the question.
“The council wants to see you at the Nyum right away. No delays.”
I want to ask
what to expect there, but I don’t think he knows. The ride to the center of the city isn’t long enough for me to form the question anyway. We arrive, and the door opens.
I can’t get out.
People crisscross along the walkways, a sea tangled in conflicting currents. I can’t go out into it, can’t get pulled under, kicked and crushed and buried alive. Again.
“Liddi, what’s wrong? Slow down and breathe.”
My panic’s grip is too tight to do as Tiav says; it constricts my lungs so the more I try to breathe, the less air I get.
He takes my face in his hands, forcing me to turn away from the potential nightmare outside and look at him instead. His eyes are steady and strong as they lock on mine, and the warmth of his hands battles the cold terror inside me.
“I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have to do this so soon, and I wish we could’ve said no. But I promise, no one will hurt you again.”
Something in his words eases the vise on my lungs. I tap one finger against his chest.
His expression relaxes. “No, they won’t hurt me, either. Come on, it’s not that far to the door. You can do it.”
Kalkig isn’t here. He’s miles and miles away in a detention facility. With that realization, my fear dissipates and I finally breathe. We get out of the streamer, and nothing terrible happens. No tidal wave of people trying to crush me. I feel silly for letting panic paralyze me like that, but as Tiav takes my hand and squeezes it, he doesn’t seem to think so.
He’s worried, and not just about my emotional state. He doesn’t want me to see it, but I can read his face almost as well as he can mine—and much better than I can read Ferinne writing. In just the short walk from the streamer to the Nyum, I feel another difference. Not from Tiav—from everyone else on the street.
They’re watching me. They know who I am. Word has already spread.
It’s like being home, but there’s no comfort in the feeling, even with these onlookers seeming distinctly more apprehensive than violent. I spend the last few steps mourning my anonymity. It was nice being just another face, one people might look at because they liked my eyes, or look away from because they thought my nose was ugly, but nothing more. For a while, I knew what it was like to be a person others could take time to get to know. Not that it stopped Kalkig from forming an instant opinion of me, but Tiav has kept a pretty open mind all along.
Now it’s different. Now I’m a very particular face, but one without a voice.
The Nyum in the capital is much different from the one in Podra. Tiav explains it softly as we walk in. There’s a senior council with one representative from each species, then a larger council with more delegates. Each of the five species—even the ever-absent Izim—has its own chamber for meetings surrounding the much larger hall where they can all meet together. We go to the main hall, and while it’s not full, it’s also nowhere near empty. At least, the sections for the Ferinnes, Agnac, Haleians, and Crimna aren’t. Each holds a handful of very different people.
And those people are already arguing. Even if some of the aliens weren’t going at it in their native languages, I wouldn’t be able to understand. Too many voices, too much emotion.
Tiav won’t let go of my hand. Good thing, because I don’t want him to. Unless it’s to let me run back the way we came. Rooms of powerful people aren’t my strong suit.
What is your strong suit, Liddi?
The members of the senior council sit on the stand at the front of the hall. They’re not arguing. They’re not saying anything. The Ferinne lifts his hand to signal someone, and a chime sounds from all around us. Immediate silence follows.
“Tiav’elo, thank you for bringing our guest,” the Ferinne says. A few Agnacki grunts follow his use of the word guest, but the man ignores them. “I’m sure you have things to attend to, so you may go.”
“No, thank you, Voand,” Tiav says. “My mother has assigned me the duty of watching after Liddi, and I won’t leave her here alone. She can’t speak for herself.”
“Ah, Shiin’alo didn’t mention that. Why can’t she?”
His hand tightens on mine as he glances at me. “I don’t know.” A limited truth, since he knows what keeps me from speaking, but not why it’s there.
“We can arrange a computer for her to write her thoughts.”
The Crimna chairwoman cuts in. She’s a lot like Jahmari—old and young, graceful and sharp all at the same time. “Your Lost Points forewent written language many years ago, did they not?”
“She’s been working on learning it,” Tiav says. “But it’s not easy, and it takes a long time for the computer to read off the sounds until she finds the ones she wants. Time I’m sure the council doesn’t have.”
Voand sighs. “Very well. Both of you have a seat over here. Questions will be difficult.”
“Questions are unnecessary.” The voice comes from the gallery, one of the Agnac. “We know the truth, that she comes from the heathen worlds. She has been told too much, and she endangers the Khua.”
“And I do not like the course of action you suggest,” Voand says. “Ymana?”
“Nor do we,” the Crimna confirms. “Berk?”
The Haleian heaves his shoulders in a shrug. “I’m not sure we know enough yet to like or dislike anything.”
Tiav doesn’t ask what the Agnac have suggested. He probably knows already. After what happened in Podra today, it’s not hard to guess.
A flame of anger kicks through my chest. I don’t like all these people talking about me without being able to answer. Don’t like their words bouncing back and forth between them as though I’m not here. Tiav’s going to have to speak for me, and I don’t like that any better than when my brothers did it. But there’s no better alternative. So I sit with Tiav, the center of attention yet virtually sidelined. He still has my hand, and I am glad for that. Being alone in this would be too much.
“We’ve managed to contain some of the specifics of Liddi’s arrival and activities since,” Voand says, “but we have to think about what will happen when others find out. They will eventually.”
“By ‘activities,’ you mean her violation of the Khua?”
Tiav’s voice startles me, so strong and clear, more than before when he was simply stating why he would stay. Even if I could speak for myself, my voice would probably shake in front of these people.
Voand looks down, consulting notes on a com-tablet, maybe. “Yes, she remained with a Khua for several hours before she could be retrieved, correct?”
“She didn’t know what she was doing. She’s from Sampati. We all know that the Lost Points don’t understand the Khua as we do—that’s the whole point of them being lost. But just because they don’t believe doesn’t mean they can’t learn. Since we told her the law, she’s respected it. As this regards the Khua, the situation should remain in the purview of the Aelo, not this council.”
The Agnac senior councillor leans onto the table in front of him with his long arms. “We are not satisfied with Shiin’alo’s handling of ‘the situation’ thus far and cannot leave it to her any longer.” Tiav flinches, so slightly I doubt anyone else sees it, but otherwise doesn’t falter. “She has given us no information on the only questions that matter—how the heathen got here, and why she has come.”
All evidence of flinching is gone as Tiav finally releases my hand so he can stand, but he doesn’t stop there. He strides across the space separating us from the council, staring down the Agnac.
“We will not answer any questions so long as you keep calling her that. Just hours ago, she was nearly killed in an unprovoked attack instigated by your people, Oxurg. That’s exactly the type of action we’ve been taught to expect from the so-called heathens, not our own friends, so I will not stand for the use of that word anymore.”
That quickly, my anger at my own silence cools. Tiav knows these people and their cultures, and young as he is, he has authority I don’t grasp. He can advocate for me in ways I couldn’t for myself.
<
br /> A familiar gesture answers Tiav’s outburst—a slight ducking of Oxurg’s head, though he certainly doesn’t look happy. “My apologies, Aelo.”
Ymana raises a finger to call for the floor. “I can’t help but notice, Tiav’elo, that you hardly seem objective.”
No, he’s not objective. And I’m glad he’s not.
“It isn’t my duty to be objective. It’s my duty to observe and to use both my head and my heart. And it’s been my duty to get to know Liddi despite the fact she can’t speak. I don’t know everything, but I do know she is not the evil the Lost Points are meant to be.”
“Naturally, we respect your insight on her character,” Voand says. “The questions raised, however, are good ones. Why is she here?”
Tiav returns to my side, and I see the tiniest cracks in his confidence. Not doubts. But maybe anxiety. He knows I haven’t told him all I could, and while he accepts my reasons—for now—it’s another matter when it comes to world leaders.
“She’s in danger on Sampati. I don’t know what kind, except that other people are also threatened. And I’m confident that anything she’s done—or not done—has been her best effort to keep people safe.”
“And we are to be satisfied with such vague reasons?” Oxurg counters.
I read the question in Tiav’s eyes—can I explain now, suffering through the effort of writing it out? The answer is no way. Not after what happened in Podra, not here with the Agnac already certain I’m the embodiment of evil, not when they know more about the Khua than I do. Not even when it’s putting Tiav in such an awful position. I can’t risk them taking some kind of action to hurt my brothers, and I don’t know that Tiav could stop them.
“For now, it’s the best she can offer,” Tiav says. “And if lives are in the balance, I won’t question it. The Khua haven’t been clear, but they point toward trusting her, too.”
I didn’t know that. Neither did anyone else, judging by the murmurs that rumble through the hall.
The senior council members turn to confer with each other, and the various delegations continue their own deliberations. It seems to take forever. Long enough that Tiav takes my hand again. Finally, Voand waves the others off.