Deviants of Giftborn (The Etherya Series Book 1)

by Amarcya, Zuri

  Nemma glided over to the wall on her platform. She reached out towards the books, trying to keep her mind clear of any thought, and as her hand reached them, the books parted. She could not touch any of them. She kept leaning further in until she reached the wall. She turned and pulled a face at Terris.

  He laughed and called to her, “Now pick a book you want and try again.”

  Nemma looked at the books in front of her and fixed upon one with a shiny blue cloth cover in the third row. As she reached towards it, the books in the first and second row parted but the book she aimed for stayed still, allowing her to pluck it from its place. She turned on her platform and headed back to Terris.

  As she arrived, he said, “Now, hold the book before you, and let it go.”

  Nemma held the book up and glanced down at the ground far below. She let the book go, but instead of dropping to the floor, it flew back towards its original place on the wall. Nemma watched it, rotating around on her platform. The other books parted again to let it in.

  She turned to Terris. “Have they always done that?”

  “Yes,” Terris replied. “Watch.” He released his hold on the books in front of him, and they all flew back to their positions on different walls in one swoop.

  “Amazing. How do they do that? How is that code?”

  “Code is a way of setting the Gift to carry out an action or sequence on its own,” Terris recited, obviously trying to remember the words from the book. “So in this room, there is a code that makes the Gift keep all books in their positions on the wall. There is also a code that prevents students from selecting a book unless they are focused on a specific one. And—”

  “There is a code that returns all books to their places if they’re dropped,” Nemma finished.

  “Yes. If they are placed down on a surface, that doesn’t count. If they are in the grip of someone’s Gift, that doesn’t count. But if they are dropped, the code protects them,” Terris said.

  “And how do you do that?” Nemma asked. ”How do you create code?”

  “Govenyth Sheyin didn’t explain,” Terris said. “I asked her but she said it required careful application and I would only learn it with further study.”

  They were both silent for a moment. Terris lay down on his platform on his back. Nemma followed suit.

  “Do you think we are going to learn this in standard lessons?” Nemma asked.

  “Yes, but probably not in much depth,” Terris answered. He sounded tired.

  Nemma turned to face him, propping herself up onto her elbow. “But can you still feel the Gift if you have created a code with it?” she asked. “And what if you want to cancel the code?”

  Terris put his hands behind his head, turning to grin at her. “Interesting, isn’t it?”

  Nemma laughed. “Yes, but I still don’t want to be a Thaide.”

  Terris was silent for a moment, staring at her. “You laugh so infrequently. And yet it’s so…”

  She held his gaze for a moment. He had grown since they had first started. The hair growing around his mouth made him look much older and she had begun to notice other things about him, like the green flecks in his light brown eyes and the slight dimple in his cheek. Her stomach fluttered as he smiled at her and she rolled onto her back, letting the silence lengthen.

  ***

  Innogen pulled the covers from Nemma’s head. “Isa, it’s nearly sun-arc. Why have you slept so long?”

  Nemma sat up and pulled the covers back over her head, mumbling.

  Innogen pulled the covers from the bottom of the bed and rolled them up in her arms. “What?”

  “I said, it’s rest day,” Nemma grumbled. “I don’t need to get up.”

  “Yes you do,” Innogen replied, matter-of-factly. “You need to make good use of your rest days so your training can be effective.”

  “I am,” insisted Nemma, pulling herself up to sitting position. “Sleeping is a good use of time.”

  “So you’re not spending any time with Terris today?” Innogen asked, an innocent smile on her painted pink lips.

  Nemma whimpered and fell back onto the bed. Innogen was positively delighted that Nemma was seeing more of Terris. She asked about him at every possible moment and quizzed Nemma on her thoughts about him. It was annoying but she was so good-natured, Nemma brushed it off. Besides, she wasn’t sure how she truly felt about Terris.

  “No,” she replied, arms around her head to block the light coming in as Innogen uncovered the windows. “He has some medical training or something today.”

  “Well you can’t mope about all day,” Innogen ordered, hands on her hips. “Find something to do that will help with your studies.”

  Nemma thought for a moment, as Innogen pulled out a white undertunic and gray robe from her wardrobe. “Is there a craft workroom or gallery in the Academy? Or somewhere to learn?”

  “Are you interested in art?” Innogen asked, surprised. She collected Nemma’s worn robes and piled them into a basket.

  Nemma shrugged. “It might be nice to see some.”

  “There is a small alcove gallery next to the research room. I’ll take you there if you want to wash up,” Innogen said, gesturing to the washroom. “Quickly.”

  They strolled through the corridors, Innogen’s wrist nestling in Nemma’s elbow as she talked about her day so far. She reminded Nemma of Mother in a lot of ways, or what Mother may have been like when she was younger. She was always happy, ready to laugh and not offended by Nemma’s lack of response sometimes. Even though Nemma no longer required targeted care, they had become close friends. Innogen visited daily and spent all her free time with her, and Nemma enjoyed her company. They talked about everything; foods they liked, clothes, the differences in their hair and their families. Innogen seemed fascinated by the idea of Aunt Gabby and asked numerous questions about her.

  Innogen led her through the Academy pointing out the changes in the new season that Nemma had not had time to notice, new flowers budding, the withering of old leaves, the color changes in the light of the buildings seen beyond the wall of the Grounds.

  They curved into a corridor with shiny peach walls at the far side of the Grounds and stopped at a wide, deep alcove.

  “This is the alcove gallery,” Innogen said. “Enjoy.”

  “Aren’t you staying? It’s rest day.”

  Innogen shook her head. “I have some scholars I need to tend to before I can actually use today to rest,” she replied, ruefully. “But let’s meet in the aide’s dining room later. Have fun.”

  On the peach walls, lumni triangular cones shed pale light upon the paintings and artifacts fixed to the walls. In the center stood larger sculptures made from a variety of materials, some of which Nemma had never seen before. Each piece boasted excellent craftsmanship and high quality materials but as a whole the gallery dragged down her mood. Her craft training had been personal time with Father and she had not been able to share that with anyone, even Innogen. She wandered around the space taking time to absorb the unusual art and reveling in memories she had of Father teaching some of the techniques she noticed in each piece. As the sunlight began to fade, Nemma turned away and headed back to her rooms. She hadn’t yet seen a piece that rivaled Father’s lumni swan.

  Back in her rooms she searched for her old carrysack and took out the seven poa stones. She arranged them in their usual circular pattern but did not slot them together. They had relied on these stones for as long as she could remember. When slotted together they generated an amazing amount of heat that filled the hut with warmth. When their stove finally broke, the stones kept them alive. They used them to heat water, cook, melt metals, mold lumni… everything. She picked one up and pressed it to her nose, breathing in the burnt scent that filled the hut when they were activated. She’d rarely had much time to think about home recently. The nightmares had stopped but the stones helped her to remember the good times. She only wished she had picked up Father’s swan. Broken or not, she longed to see i
t again.

  The next day in Sovereign Law, Terris sat next to Nemma, filling her in on his healing training.

  “Today we will be looking at crime,” announced Govenyth Col. The training group fell silent and Terris sat up straighter. “Sovereign Law is very clear about respecting others and the society we live in. What is the Sovereign’s position on crime?”

  Terris answered. “The Sovereign doesn’t tolerate crime of any kind.”

  “Good,” Col said. “Why does the Sovereign insist on a lifestyle without crime?”

  A few moments silence. Haleyna spoke up. “To make sure the people of Torak can enjoy their lives.”

  “Yes, but not just Torak. Sovereign Law exists throughout the Realms. All live by it.”

  “Everyone in the Realms lives by Sovereign Law?” Deron asked.

  Col nodded. “Of course. The Sovereign created all of the Realms and everyone in them. So they all love him as much as we do. They have rest days just like us and live by the same principles and traditions.”

  “But they don’t have the Torak Tower or the Arc,” Syra said.

  “No,” Col said. “But many of the top-rank magiens and Thaide that are trained here go to the various countries to uphold the Sovereign Order. Some of you may think about going different countries to live and work.”

  “But not everyone lives a life free of crime, do they?” Nemma asked, thinking about Ryim life.

  “Most do.” Col answered. “Those that choose to go against Sovereign Law are always caught.” He paused. “Does anyone know what happens to people who break Sovereign Law?”

  This time the silence lengthened. Nemma glanced around and noticed that a few scholars’ eyes were downcast and a few people shifted in their seats.

  “Come now,” Govnyth Col said. “Everyone knows of the Sovereign’s Justice surely?”

  When no one answered he continued. “The Sovereign’s Justice is the only form of punishment for any crime across the Realm. All who break Sovereign Law suffer it, regardless of whether they are magien, citizen, serf, sailor…”

  Belis’ hand edged up. “I have always heard about it at home… I mean, back in Yatrnaer… but never attended one. There are stories…”

  Col held up his hand. “In the ceremony the condemned are tried for their guilt. Witnesses come forward to testify for them and the Thaide gather evidence. If they are found to be innocent, which is rare, they are investigated.”

  “Why are they investigated?” asked Dhelon.

  “There will have been a reason why they were accused,” Col explained. “So the Thaide will investigate, to discover why.”

  “What about if they are guilty?” Belis asked.

  “If they are found guilty, they suffer Justice. Which means their heads are removed from their bodies during the ceremony.”

  Abranya, a Hanwyan girl sitting on the other side of the room, gasped and covered her mouth with her hand.

  “However, their minds remain fully functional,” he continued. “They can hear, see, understand, and feel pain. But they cannot speak.”

  “That’s horrible,” whispered Palyon.

  “Indeed,” Col said. “Their bodies are usually sent to the Element sect for research, or sometimes destroyed, but their heads are placed in law courts throughout the Realms so they can see Sovereign Law taking place.”

  “How long do they stay for?” Belis asked.

  The Govenyth shrugged. “I have never heard of any head being destroyed or removed. The Realms are large after all.” He moved through the tables to the back of the room. “If any of the Priests want to witness a court room somewhere else in the Realm, they attach their mind to one of the condemned and see through their eyes. It causes the condemned an enormous amount of pain, but such is their suffering.”

  “That’s cruel,” Belis muttered.

  “Cruel?” Col said, strolling back to the front. “Hardly cruel compared to the crimes committed. You must remember that Sovereign Law is very clear. Those that break it know they are doing so and still choose to proceed. We don’t want those kinds of people in our society.”

  “And what if someone broke Sovereign Law to feed their family,” Abranya said, a harshness in her tone. Her eyes shone. “What if Sovereign Law forces serf families to live off the land they also have to use to make a living?”

  “You know as well as I that serf families should only grow to the size of their ward so that they can sustain themselves and provide enough produce for their ward owner,” Col said.

  “That’s not always possible with new pairings being given existing wards where families already live.” Abranya raised her voice. “Ward owners aren’t always monitored.”

  “Calm down,” the Govenyth warned.

  “My brother suffered Sovereign’s Justice for stealing an apple from a neighboring ward,” the girl shouted, standing. “An apple!”

  Nemma accessed the Gift and felt the Govenyth accessing his also.

  “I thought he died. But he is… alive somewhere feeling pain and seeing endless days in some court in the Realms? It’s uncivilized!”

  The group was silent. Col stepped towards her. “I don’t know the details of your brother’s case, Abranya, but stealing is stealing.”

  “It’s not as simple as that out in the real world,” Abranya spat. “Suffering happens in many forms and Sovereign Law doesn’t protect everyone.”

  “The neighboring ward would be the ones suffering a significant loss in their profits if that theft continued,” Govenyth Col said. “You cannot justify it.”

  Abranya clenched her fists. “You can’t justify such a horrifying punishment for a simple crime.”

  “I don’t need to,” Col said. “It is Law. There’s no need for me to seek anyone’s opinion about whether it is just.”

  Abranya accessed the Gift and Nemma stood up.

  “I warn you, Abranya,” Govenyth Col said. “Calm down.”

  Abranya looked around among the training group in disgust. “You’re all content with this Law, are you?”

  No one spoke or moved and Abranya returned her gaze to Col who stood closer to her. He sent out a pulse of energy.

  Abranya grabbed for her chair but was yanked into the air and suspended there, a look of surprise on her face. Nemma gasped, anger, fear and shock flooding her body. The rest of the group were still, some dropped their heads.

  “Don’t fret, scholars,” Col soothed. “Nurses are coming to see to Abranya. She’s not well. Isa sit down, please.”

  He moved back to the front of the room as Nemma examined the energy that held Abranya. It pressed close to her body, holding her in position, stiff and unyielding. Abranya stopped struggling immediately and Nemma could only imagine the pain she felt. Terris tugged on Nemma’s sleeve but she pulled her arm away as she stepped towards Abranya. Focusing on the energy holding her, she sent out her reach and took command of it.

  “What do you think you are doing?” Govenyth Col called to her, bewildered. “Stop!”

  Nemma willed the energy apart and released it. Abranya dropped to the floor as the door opened and a handful of nurses entered with a male Puryth. They helped Abranya up and led her out of the class.

  The Puryth nodded at Col and turned to leave.

  “Wait,” Col called. He pointed at Nemma. “Take her too.”

  Seventeen

  After cooking and enjoying a traditional Hanwyan meal of beef fillet, crusty spearheads and slippery potatoes, Clisantha changed into a green, black and white patterned tunic-set and put on her jewelery. Some of the city’s best jewelery makers had sent her gifts, hoping she would wear them in the Arc, but she was only heading to the Glass Hearth. Telmar’s divorce had been finalized and she needed a drink and mindless company to think through the plan she discussed with Riyen. She had a meeting arranged with Telmar for the following morning. The plan was to agree to marry him, then persuade him to go the Journey Grounds to visit Orna’s grave at sun-arc. Hopefully he would feel that her re
quest was justified. Riyen would do the rest from there.

  She laced up her black merchant boots. A cordwainer in the city had designed a slimmer, more feminine style boot, and since she started wearing them, they had become a favorite with the women in Torak. She stood up, taking a deep breath. Although she had been wishing Telmar dead for years, the thought of it happening caused an uncomfortable squeeze in her chest. His death would be welcome but the aftermath could be devastating. Telmar was the only lord of his status in Torak. He had the influence to make suggestions to the High Priest and create and destroy city contracts. If he died unexpectedly, who knew what state Torak would descend to? Many of the merchants whose businesses he owned would hope to be released from existing contracts, his estate would go to his young sons and probably remain dormant and, without someone to advise and guide their conduct, the merchant and lord sectors could collapse. And she had to think about her own business. What if the High Priest decided to close her venture, without Telmar around to oversee it? What if everything changed for the worst?

  She locked her front door, turned and saw Della a few feet away, her stomach large and round, struggling with about four large roped clothing bundles. Two slipped from her hands onto the ground.

  Clisantha rushed to pick them up.

  “Thank you, Clisantha, dear,” Della said. “They’re so heavy.”

  Clisantha smiled. “Della, put them down. You shouldn’t be struggling with these in your condition.”

  Della placed down the bundles and breathed out a sigh.

  “You look well,” Clisantha said, lifting as many bundles as she could leaving one for Della. “When are you due?”

  Della grinned and placed a hand on her stomach. She did indeed look well. Her ash brown hair had thickened and grown past her shoulders, her skin was smooth and glowing and her dark green eyes shone. “Next month. I have a feeling this one’s a girl.” She picked up the remaining bundle.

  “Wonderful,” Clisantha said, walking with her to the door. “Are you looking forward to the sleepless nights and breastfeeding?”