No sooner had Soman looked away from the man than a young woman dressed in rags ran breathlessly up to him, resting her palms on Soman’s forearms.
“Give me a portion of meat and I am yours,” she said, revealing brown, chipped teeth. “I will do anything you want.”
“Feed this woman,” Soman said to a Terrene worker who walked behind him. “Take her back to the camp and let her eat her fill.”
“If you feed her, you will never rid yourself of her,” Keeper Fregman said from in front of Soman.
“Why is she so hungry?” Soman asked, appalled.
“There simply is no food,” Keeper Fregman replied. “Did you not notice the empty fields through the Great Wide Valley? No one has grown food since the time of Queen Helen. There are no seeds, no tools, no means of any kind. Our stores ran out months ago.”
“And yet, you appear fed well enough, Keeper,” Archigadh said.
“The Keepers have kept their own food and we have rationed ourselves since the day Queen Helen died,” Keeper Fregman replied. “I assure you, I would be happy with more, but I am grateful for what we have.”
Archigadh sighed and looked at Soman. “This all began well before the fall of Aerie,” he said. “I do not understand why we were not summoned. Why did The Ancestor not tell us of the circumstances throughout Todor? We have more than enough of everything in Zoban.”
“Aerie was in isolation after Queen Helen’s death,” Soman reminded his father. “Perhaps he did not know.”
Archigadh simply shook his head. “There was nothing Progon did not know.”
“We can help them now,” Soman said reassuringly. “If Numa’s vision becomes a reality, everyone in Todor will once again be fed and Joyous.”
“Aye,” Archigadh agreed and resumed walking over the remnants of Tolnick.
“Just up ahead, there is a section of city wall that fell in such a way that it now makes the perfect dais for the council to meet,” Keeper Fregman said, pointing in front of them. “The others have already arrived and are there now.”
Soman turned again to another worker behind him. “Please find Keeper Sam and let him know that it is time for him to join us for the start of the council,” he said. “And also that it is nearly time for my tea.”
Soman felt his heartbeat quicken as they approached the makeshift dais. Keeper Fregman said the others had already arrived, which meant that Numa and Gemynd were both there. He had not seen them together since the night Gemynd brought him back from the dead, but he hardly remembered that night. It was hazy and fractured. The last time he clearly remembered being together with them was the night Aerie was destroyed.
Soman closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to still his heart. As he put his focus there, he realized that his heart did not pound out of nervousness nor anxiety, but out of excitement. He was eager to reunite with his lifelong friends; to put the past behind them and build a future together the way it was always meant to be.
The barely-discernible path they were taking suddenly narrowed to the width of a single man as it went between two enormous piles of stone. Within these piles, Soman could see large sections of wall that were still intact. He imagined that the castle had been beautiful and wished again that he had had the chance to see it. “No more destruction,” he said to no one in particular.
As they came through the narrowed path, the view opened up some and there was a semblance of a city square before them, outlined in a uniform ridge of rubble.
“We hastily fashioned a place for the spectators to gather,” Keeper Fregman explained. “I’m glad we did. There are already a few thousand Iturtians here and now with your lot, we need all the space we can get. It will be a crowded square.”
“Aye,” Archigadh agreed.
Soman looked at the people already in the square. They all wore the same dark tunic and breeches of Iturtia, but instead of being the menacing enemy he’d imagined facing on the battlefield, these people all appeared frightened and tired. The looked like they had already been through war. “Where are the Terrenes?” Soman asked, realizing that all he saw there were Iturtians.
“There were only about twenty of us left in Tolnick after the quake,” Keeper Fregman said. “And six of us are Keepers.”
“Twenty?!” Soman and Archigadh said in unison.
“Oh yes,” Keeper Fregman answered. “Terrenes have become a rare breed indeed. It seems the vast majority of surviving Terrenes now live in Zoban with you.”
Soman was shocked into silence for the remainder of their walk to the dais. He had not realized how much the Terrenes had lost. The peace council was now more important to Soman than ever.
At long last, Keeper Fregman ascended the remnants of a spiral stairway that led up to the dais. Soman could smell his friends before he saw them. He heard Numa’s musical voice becoming more distinct as he rounded another turn in the staircase.
And then he heard Gemynd’s quiet laugh. It was nearly soundless and really more of a breathy, punctuated moan than a laugh, but Soman would recognize it anywhere. As he rounded the final curve and stepped out onto the dais behind his father, Soman had to consciously tell his legs to be still, for the urge to run and embrace his friends had become overwhelming.
The dais was, indeed, a section of city wall that had fallen to the ground during the earthquake. The stone walkway and crenellations that had once overlooked Tolnick from three hundred hands above, were now a mere twenty hands off the ground. A long table covered with a golden cloth had been set up in the center of the walkway. The beauty and opulence of the tablecloth seemed at such odds with the rest of Tolnick that Soman felt his head begin to spin. But then he saw Numa standing at the opposite end of the table speaking with two men.
When Soman saw her, he gasped. Her wine-colored hair was fashioned into layers of braids. Tiny braids looping around larger braids, which hung in the midst of luscious curls. She wore an exquisite gown, like none he’d seen her wear before. The sleeves were so thin he could see right through them. They appeared as veils of rainbows hovering above Numa’s skin the way oil looked floating on water. The gown itself was black with silver laces cinching it tight up the bodice, accentuating her every curve. And the neckline plunged so low that the tops of her breasts rounded above it like hilltops poking through low clouds. She looked so grown up. She was every bit a woman now.
“Presenting Archigadh, Chief of the Ancestor Clan of the great and powerful Zobanites,” Keeper Fregman announced loudly from behind Soman.
Numa turned then and looked directly at Soman, an enormous smile spreading across her face. “You’re here!” she exclaimed and ran around the table, hurling herself into his arms.
“You look amazing,” Soman said as he squeezed her tight.
“So do you,” she replied, looking up at him. “I like you without hair.”
Soman rubbed his stubbled head self-consciously and grinned. “If you like it, then I just might keep it this way.”
Numa smiled again then turned to greet Archigadh. “It is wonderful to see you again, Chief,” she said and embraced him as well.
“Aye,” he replied and squeezed her back. “How wonderful it is to see you, too, lass. This council would not be a possibility without you.”
Soman smiled at his father’s kind words and let his gaze drift down to the two men at the opposite end of the table. One was Gemynd and the other was also Gemynd. They were identical in nearly every way: their coloring, their features, even their posture. The only differences were that one man appeared slightly older than the other, and the younger man bore a fresh-looking scar across his right eye that was absent on the other man’s face. The one with the new scar met Soman’s gaze and held it expectantly.
Soman would know those black eyes anywhere. Those were the eyes he’d seen looking back at him through every important moment in his life. “Gemynd,” Soman said with a nod, then suddenly felt the greeting was entirely too formal. He quickly moved around the table with his ar
ms outstretched before him. “Come here, brother!”
A look of relief washed over Gemynd’s face as he fell into Soman’s embrace. Soman pounded lightly on Gemynd’s back as he held him, but the gesture did nothing to prevent tears from welling up in his eyes.
Soman pulled back and looked into Gemynd’s face. “I do believe you’re the only man in Todor who could get a scar like that and be all the more handsome for it,” Soman said and smiled.
Gemynd smiled back. “And you’d be the only man in Todor who could still be pretty even after losing all his hair,” he said and laughed. “We have some catching up to do, my friend.”
Soman nodded. “Looking forward to it, brother,” he said. “I’ve missed you.”
Gemynd swallowed and shifted his weight. “Soman, you have not met my father,” he said. “This is Golath, Director of Iturtia.”
Soman shook Golath’s hand and bowed his head politely. “An honor to meet you, Director,” he said, though he wasn’t sure he meant the words. This was the man he had come to think of as the enemy of the Zobanites. His enemy. And he felt sure that Golath was not a man to be trusted.
“Presenting Keeper Sam, the resilient and knowledgeable, the last Keeper of Aerie,” Keeper Fregman announced and Soman turned to see Keeper Sam emerge onto the dais, hoisting up the hem of his robe to keep from tripping on it as he ascended the final step.
Soman watched his small friend walk towards Golath, his hand outstretched in greeting, when a look of surprise crossed Golath’s face and he cocked his head to one side.
“Samyga?” Golath asked and hesitated for a single moment before erupting in laughter.
“You know the tiny man?” Archigadh asked and Soman felt a knot tighten in his stomach.
“Yes, I know him well,” Golath answered, still laughing. “He was one of my top instructors for a time. How utterly amusing it is that the Terrenes would choose an Iturtian to represent them on the council!”
A pall of silence seemed to fall over all of Todor. Soman felt his heart sink into his guts and he took a step backward.
“It’s not true,” he muttered to himself and looked across the dais at Keeper Sam.
“It is not what it seems,” Keeper Sam said and hastily crossed over to Soman.
“Are you Iturtian?” Soman asked.
Keeper Sam turned to Golath. “Director, please, you must tell them all of the story. Soman is my dear friend and I cannot have him believing I’ve lied to him all this time.”
“Which story, Sam?” Golath replied. “Shall I tell the story of how you tried to pass yourself off as an eight when you first arrived to training in hopes of having easier lessons? Or perhaps you’d like me to share the tale of when you carelessly ended the life of a young student? If I had to guess, I’d say you want me to tell them all about how you ceaselessly orated on the Book of Life, spreading its falsities like a disease throughout Iturtia until I was forced to throw you out and send you back to Aerie.”
“Yes! Yes, that’s the one!” Keeper Sam shouted, undeterred by Golath’s obvious attempts to humiliate him. “You see, Soman, he sent me back to Aerie. I was always from Aerie. I was always a Keeper. I didn’t tell you about all that Iturtian business because I don’t consider myself Iturtian. I truly don’t. I believe with all my heart that I am a Keeper of Aerie and that is all.”
“Well, we simply cannot have two Iturtians on the council,” Archigadh bellowed. “Either your second will have to serve in your stead or we will need to reconvene after the Terrenes find a suitable replacement.”
“Golath? Numa? Do you agree with Archigadh’s proposal?” Keeper Fregman asked.
“Proposal?” Archigadh scoffed. “It wasn’t a proposal, I assure you, fancy Keeper. This is supposed to be a council of equals. Seems to me, if it has two Iturtians, that makes it a wee bit imbalanced. I won’t sit on such a council.”
“Forgive me, Chief, but it is not up to you nor the council who represents each race,” Keeper Fregman said. “The Terrenes chose Keeper Sam as their representative and it is up to them if they wish to keep him on the council.”
“That may be, but it is up to me if I choose to stay or go,” Archigadh replied.
“Please, Chief, do not go,” Numa said. “We will find a solution, but if you go, I don’t know what it would mean.”
“Aye, if I go, it means war,” Archigadh said, and Soman watched as Golath turned quickly to face them. Golath’s hand was on the shortknife at his belt and his eyes were on Archigadh’s sword.
Soman’s heart pounded and his breaths came short and fast. All of the training he had done with his soldiers had not prepared him for a moment such as this. He could not protect the Chief, nor could he protect himself. If Golath took over their minds, they would both be dead by their own swords in an instant.
Soman clenched his jaw tight as he realized that he was entirely at Golath’s mercy. And that his father had been right: there is nothing more dangerous than a Zobanite under Iturtian control.
The moment drew out, tension building, as Golath and Archigadh stared at one another. One single movement is all it would take. One blink, one turn of the head, one twitch of a finger, to ignite a reaction in either man.
“Please, everyone, let us sit at the table and discuss this!” Numa said forcefully, stepping between Golath and Archigadh.
Keeper Sam stepped over to Soman and took hold of his hand. “My friendship to you has always been true,” he said. “In my heart, I have never deceived you. I am a Keeper of Aerie. When I took my vows, I gave up everything that was not part of the life of a Keeper and for me that included being Iturtian. Truthfully, it did not feel as though I had given up anything because I had only considered myself to be an Aerite since I was a seven. I was not the only Keeper of Aerie who had once been Iturtian, but when we took our vows, we ceased being anything other than Keepers of Aerie. Despite what I may have once been, no, Soman, I am not Iturtian.”
Soman looked down and felt a pang of pity for Sam. He had been Soman’s devoted friend, his constant companion since the night Aerie fell. In all that time, Soman had only seen him behave exactly as a true Keeper of Aerie. While it had been Gemynd and Numa who had saved Soman’s life, it was Keeper Sam who kept him alive. “If you say you are not Iturtian, then I believe you,” Soman said to him with a nod, though he wondered if he meant the words or was merely unwilling to accept another betrayal.
Keeper Fregman stepped to the edge of the dais and shouted down to the messengers stationed below. “Ask the Terrenes if they wish to choose another representative in light of this new information.”
Murmuring and chatter coursed through the people below as the messengers ran this way and that, collecting information the way a sweetfly collects nectar from flowers. Finally the messengers converged together, then one of them approached the dais.
“The Terrenes wish to continue with Keeper Sam as their representative,” the messenger said breathlessly.
“And so it is,” Keeper Fregman said, gesturing with a sweep of his arm towards Keeper Sam.
Soman glanced at Archigadh as he walked back to his position behind the Chief and was not surprised to see his father’s eyes narrowed in displeasure.
“Are you still for the peace council, Father?” Soman leaned in and asked in a whisper as he passed by.
Archigadh reached out and grabbed Soman’s wrist. “We now have a council with two Iturtians and an Empyrean who just happens to be the Director’s daughter-in-law,” he growled softly.
“Really, Chief, nothing has changed. This is the council just as you wanted it,” Soman whispered to him. “You trusted Numa and Sam before.”
“Now I have misgivings,” Archigadh replied.
“Then let us leave now before this thing has even gotten underway,” Soman said.
Archigadh’s gaze shifted around the dais and he flared his nostrils. “We’ll stay,” he said. “If it works, it will be worth it. If it doesn’t, we’ll be ready.”
; “Aye,” Soman agreed and waited until his father took a seat at the table before he sat in a chair behind him.
Soman looked around the dais. Archigadh and Golath sat on one side of the table while Keeper Sam and Numa sat across from them. Numa was different than when he’d seen her only days before. There was a new confidence about her and a rose upon her cheeks.
Soman glanced at Gemynd, who sat next to him, behind Golath, and saw his black eyes keenly watching Numa’s every move. They were eyes unquestionably filled with love. The two were clearly reunited in wedded bliss.
Soman sighed inwardly as he watched them. There was no question they belonged together; they were like two halves of a single whole. And Soman was pleased that both of his beloved friends found such Joy within each other. Still, a part of him would always remember holding Numa in his arms, coming dangerously close to taking her, and giving himself to her. Not just in body, but wholly, completely giving himself to her. There was an instant that it had felt right.
“Before we begin, let us introduce our seconds so there will be no confusion if they are needed,” Keeper Sam suggested.
“My second is Soman, my eldest son and leader of the Zobanite forces,” Archigadh said without invitation or preamble.
“Welcome, Soman,” Keeper Fregman said. “On behalf of the surviving Tolnickians and all of Todor, we are honored by your willingness to sit on this council in the event that Chief Archigadh is no longer able.”
“Thank you,” Soman replied, finding it amusing that his true willingness had come only a short time ago.
“My son, Gemynd, is my second,” Golath said in an annoyed tone, as though the formality of having to introduce Gemynd to a group of people who already knew him was a monumental waste of time.
“Welcome, Gemynd,” Keeper Fregman said.
“My second is my mother, Gracewyn,” Numa said from her seat across the table. “Although it may appear to you that she is not here, I give my word that she is aware of all that goes on here.”
“Then, welcome Gracewyn, wherever you might be,” Keeper Fregman said and chuckled as though he’d said something funny. “Keeper Sam, where is your second?”
Disintegration: The Todor Trilogy, Book Two Page 21