GRAEBER: We can't do anything about Natre now, but this changes our long-term plans. I'll do what I can with my project, and then join up with you after.
We can discuss further then. It may be time for plan B.
BAULEEL: Plan B isn't an option.
GRAEBER: Considering the circumstances, we may not have a choice.
#END TRANSMISSION#
EPILOGUE
Terem waited in the shadows of the forest hills while the sun slowly rose and cast its light into the valley. He watched the farm come to life. First, the roosters welcomed the day, and then the farmhands, roused from their beds at this early hour, began their chores.
He liked the look of the place. A peaceful place, surrounded by green fields and acres of cultivated crops. The people here were happy, at least from a distance.
"Jonquin Sept, farmers of cotton and yellow-wort. Yellow-wort roots are prized for the brilliant orange, yellow and brown fabric dyes they produce," the whispers shared, unasked.
"Shut UP!" Terem yelled aloud. Why wouldn't they go away! Only silence and the calls of an aggravated bird answered.
Terem continued to wait until a large, burly brown-haired man emerged from the main Sept hall.
"Treus, eldest son of Chieftess Ozzat Jonquin," offered the whispers. "He oversees all of the hired help."
Terem walked down the road leading to the Jonquin farmland. It took only a few minutes along the pleasant path lined with wildflowers to reach the main complex, surrounded by a high fence. A man feeding the goats took note of his arrival and brought it to Treus' attention, pointing up at Terem on the road.
When Terem reached the complex and knocked at the gate, Treus opened it.
"What's your business on this fine day, son?"
"May I please speak to Treus Jonquin?" Terem asked.
"That'd be me. How can I help you?" he asked, raising a curious eyebrow.
"The work placement office at Raven's Call Temple said you were looking to bring on some help. Said you might be looking to expand a bit." At least, that's what they'd said, and they'd better be right.
"You came all the way out here on your own?" Treus asked, looking back up the road.
"No sir," Terem replied. "I hitched a ride with a supply wagon to the Guardian's outpost to the south. I walked here this morning after the sun rose."
"Mighty brave of you, kid, coming out here without an escort. What's your name?"
"Thad. Do you still need help, sir?"
"We sure do. Have you ever worked on a farm before?"
"No, I've lived in the city my whole life, crafting pottery. When the last Sept I worked for had to cut back on their hired hands I figured why not see another part of the world for a change?" Terem replied. You've practiced that line so often these past few days, it almost sounds like you believe it.
"Well, we can't offer you the safety you might be used to back in the city, Thad, but you will get your chance to see our fields and the beautiful countryside around here. My terms are simple, you work an honest day's work, every day, and we feed, clothe, and give you your own room and bed to sleep in. Once your work is done, you'll have your afternoons and evenings to yourself. When our harvests are quite good, everyone gets a bonus stipend. Does that sound good to you?" Treus asked.
"Sure does!" Terem replied, both to Treus and to the voices.
"Now, you've got to understand one other thing: if you're not safely within the main house by nightfall, you're on your own for the night. The entire night. I'm not given to searching around in the dark for stragglers."
"I can handle myself," Terem replied, bristling inwardly at his tone. Who does he think he is? He'd be dead in seconds if we just ... "You won't have to worry about me at all," Terem continued over the hateful internal dialog he'd been becoming used to, forcing an agreeable smile for Treus' benefit.
Treus nodded down at him, oblivious to the voices Terem heard constantly. "Somehow, I believe you, kid." He extended a hand, which a smiling Terem accepted, and they shook on it.
"Welcome to Jonquin Sept's farms, Thad. Come on in and I'll introduce you around." He stepped aside, motioning Terem into the compound.
"Thanks, Treus. I'm indebted to you for your kindness." Terem walked in through the open gate. He embraced his new identity as Thad, and imagined the nightmares from the past slipping away into the dark where they belonged.
"Sure, you're safe enough for now; but they won't stop coming, will they?" asked the whispers. "What then?"
"Then I'll kill them. All of them."
Terem decided to start ignoring the whispers. After all this beautiful place promised a fresh start.
END OF PART ONE
Acknowledgments
No book happens in a vacuum. I've been blessed with fabulous support by loving, smart, and talented people, and this made all the difference in completing my journey. I want to take a moment to mention these wonderful people, and I hope you'll take the time to appreciate them with me.
To Jen, Steven, Ket, Amber, Alan, Kiersten, and Keri for your advice, kind words, and kicks in the rear as needed. I'm much obliged and will continue to return the favor.
A special thanks to my writing posse, who thrive in a pool of support and instigation. Y'all rock.
Thanks to Zippy Wizard Redaction for their editing and proofreading services.
Thanks to Christopher Stewart of Red Aces Media for his work on the Depths of Memory covers.
And lastly to my friends and family who've been a source of unending strength, laughter, and wine over the years: thank you for the inspiration.
About the Author
Candice lives in the suburbs of metro Denver, Colorado with her son and pathetically stupid but therefore very sweet cat Maia. Candice makes wine and mead and is a professional hedonist, rabble-rouser, and goat-herder. She adores archeology and all things Greek/Roman, so if you send her fan mail, please send it on cuneiform tablets, papyrus, or traditional vellum.
We encourage you to check out future installments of the Depths of Memory series as well as her Liminals series. Please visit the author's website at candicebundy.com for more information on current works and upcoming releases.
The Dream Sifter (The Depths of Memory Book 1) Page 39