The Proem: Book 0.5 of The Nome Chronicles

by F. F. John

  “Well, it isn’t my fault. Father’s never satisfied with anything simple or small.”

  “And neither are you.” There’s a twinkle to her eyes. “What’s that old saying my Mistress Ifan likes to use at times like these? The one about apples and trees?”

  I roll my eyes. Mistress Dorothea Ifan is Bel’s version of my nome’s Master Portan, except, she always shows up when you don’t want her to and she’s mean. Just the mention of her name causes my lips to tighten.

  I mutter, “I don’t remember it exactly but I know what you’re talking about.”

  “Okay then,” Bel nods with enthusiasm. “You and I know you love the fact that nobody else has received a birthday gift this elaborate. Don’t try to put this all on uncle.” She smiles. “Like father like daughter.”

  “I certainly hope not.” Father can be cold. It’s what has made him a great Titan and assured our nome’s continued business success over the years. While I want to someday be even more successful than he’s been, I don’t want to be as cold as he is to achieve it.

  Not wanting to sour, I veer our conversation away from Mistress Ifan and my father. “You could have gotten your own brand new living quarters if you hadn’t refused the offer from your parents.”

  She lets out a dismissive sigh. “That’s not me, Neith. I don’t need my own place. Think about it, I spend more time here than anywhere else. Having my own fancy mansion wouldn’t make sense as it would be empty most of the time.”

  “Ah, there you girls are,” Portan says, tapping his walking stick on the cobblestone pathway. He moves perfectly well without the accessory, but for some reason, he likes the look. Today’s walking stick is bedazzled in diamonds. They catch the bright moonlight shining brightly enough to send refractions onto the pathway. He chose a diamond-covered stick to match the diamond-accented spoons I’m providing with dessert tonight.

  “We’ve been looking for you both. The Titan is waiting and you ladies know full well that it is impolite to keep a Titan waiting.” He lectures and we snicker. He’s always been this way - using every opportunity to give us nuggets of etiquette and wisdom. “You laugh now, ladies, but these are things you need to know.”

  Father is talking to Titan Singer when he sees me. Barely acknowledging me, he spins, leading the guests to the front steps of my new abode. After a few words of gratitude, I walk in with a gaggle of girls. Most of them “ooh” and “ahh” but not all of them. It’s always been this way for me and that’s why the only girls I trust are Mezans. In my head, I countdown till someone will say something surly. I don’t have to wait long before someone fails to sufficiently whisper, saying, “only the best for her, as always.”

  I turn to face her with a wide smirk. “Of course.” Bel snickers at my side.

  The blond blinks rapidly, embarrassed to have been heard. It’s Xana Sirou and I make a mental note to think up something dreadful for her in the near future.

  During the tour, I see Invier walking behind his mother and sister. Later, he’s looking out a window on his own. I wish I was taking this inaugural tour of my new home with my hand entwined with his. I wish we would be moving in here together.

  Someone asks a question about my closet and I explain the choice of accents. I’m asked why I opted for a body-free AI system for the entire house versus having a humanoid like other modern homes. A lot of worthless talking ensues and by the time things calm, Invier and his family are nowhere to be seen.

  Leaving Bel with her sisters in my bedroom, I make my way to the front steps, where Uncle Eustace stands with his hands in his pocket. He gives me a warm grin. “I didn’t have anything this grand when I was your age. You’re quite lucky.”

  “I know, Uncle Eustace and I greatly appreciate father’s kindness.”

  He pats my cheek. “I know you do, dear.”

  Looking up at the building, he shakes his head, slightly amused. “Well, the good thing is that unless you end up with a Cyra, you won’t have to move out of your palace when you marry.” Certainly his thoughts are on Olia, who will move to Hogan’s home once they’re married.

  That sour taste I fought to prevent earlier, reappears. The thought of a union with Nome Cyra’s scion makes me nauseous.

  Noting the change in my demeanor, Uncle Eustace says, “Was it the Cyra reference? I’m just joking, dear. Don’t take me seriously.”

  I plant a well-practiced smile on my face.

  Apart from the unpleasant thought of the Cyras, Uncle Eustace’s comment also highlights another issue with Invier’s lower ranking. After a pairing, the individuals remain on their parent’s estate until the wedding, for however long that takes. When that happens, the lower-ranked person moves to the house of their higher-ranked partner. When a male has to move, he is mercilessly teased by his peers and the rest of the nomes. The stigma has brought pairings to an end because of the pressure such a situation can create. Would Invier be one of those who would fold under the social pressure to move to his bride’s home? Hopefully, being with me will be worth the sacrifice to his pride.

  Love will be worth the price.

  Chapter Eight

  The sun warms my shoulders as I fling fresh peas to the little geese waddling around my feet. Portan gave me seventeen geesling on my last birthday two months ago. They were so tiny then, but now, they’ve put on plenty of weight and have beautiful plumage. They range in beak and feather color and I know each of them by name. If not for Invier’s love letter, the geese would have been my favorite birthday gift. Mr. Truffles waits patiently by my left foot, unwilling to go running for a pea. I dutifully drop three in front of him and he scoops them up.

  I’d always wanted pets as a child but Father forbade it. He said they could pose a vulnerability that someone would take advantage of. I was six at the time.

  Some of the geese abandon the remaining peas to splash in the pond. Droplets of water cling onto their feathers, sparkling in the sunlight. I snap closed the peas container and set it on the bench. Lowering myself onto the seat, I change my mind and sit on the cushiony green grass instead.

  This has become my morning routine: a trip to greet and feed the geese before breakfast with Father. If I can’t make it back before nightfall, I send a drone with more food for them. I like to think they are happier to see me than they are for the drone, even though we both come bearing treats.

  I watch a cloud drift across the sky, momentarily blocking the sun’s rays. Everything about this very moment is serene. I wish my entire day could be this calm but I have to go work at one of our industrial plants in Tangor. It’s a smog-covered manufacturing complex that spreads out for hundreds of miles. However, it’s one of Nome Reffour’s most important assets from which the prototypes for so many of our manufacturing creations come from. Unfortunately, the high productivity of that site has turned much of the surrounding area into a brown wasteland where very little grows. Still, we house our hundreds of thousands of workers in clean communities nearby. Their homes sit under a dome where fresh air circulates, clean water flows and there is education for the children of employees.

  Arriving at Tangor is always a shock to the system, no matter how many times I’ve done it before. The short twenty-step walk from the airship to the executive entrance requires a full envirosuit to keep the air’s toxins from seeping into the skin. My hair is always a mess once I disrobe from the suit and I’m not looking forward to any of it.

  Giggling permeates the air from somewhere beyond the tall bushes that cocoon the secret garden.

  Ms. Candy quacks at me and I reach for the peas container, releasing a few for her. She tells me thank you and focuses on her meal. Her friends come to join her, bringing their joyous noise with them.

  Just then, a beeping cuts into the quacking sounds and I glance upwards. It’s one of Father’s drones, sent out to find me wherever I might be on the property. Why is it that he never contacts me like a normal person? Everyone else comms me when they need to speak with me. It’s a simple t
hing to do. Say who to call, and the comm device connects you.

  But, Father can’t do anything like others. His life is a series of bends and curves. And as the child living under the specter of Titan Nabo Reffour, so is mine.

  The drone’s beeping gets louder and quicker. A shrill tone that makes my teeth rattle with its quickening approach. Startled, the geese scatter back to the safety of the water.

  Once it gets close enough, it’s pitched whine stinging my ears, I snatch the metallic silver device. Tapping its green button in quick succession it utters, “Your presence is required by Titan Reffour. He awaits you in his -”

  One tap to its red button and the soulless voice ceases. I lift slowly and fling the drone. It hurtles in the air until it balances itself on an invisible wire and then, takes off.

  Whoever giggled earlier, now laughs nervously. Then there’s a sudden intake of air. A delighted squeal follows as I walk through a tunnel of multicolored bougainvillea and ylang ylang. The grass swallows my footsteps and I wind up at a leaf-strewn wall. It camouflages the entrance to my garden, where I like to get away from the likes of whoever stands not far away. This person, who in their excitement, has no idea that they are about to be come upon by me.

  “Will you ... marry me?”

  The words drip in uncertainty from a man who understands that the question could be the most important one he ever asks.

  Despite my distress on receiving Father’s summons, my heart melts. Two lovers declaring their commitment to each other. This happens from time to time on our estate as Father has opened the grounds to the visiting public once a week. Individuals from the Sixty like to come walk the gardens, visit the museum on the first floor of the main mansion where Father’s offices are and oftentimes, a proposal takes place. Father believes that the appearance of being accessible serves our nome’s best interest. This is my first time being this close to a proposal, however and I don’t want to interrupt them but I’ll have to out from behind this leaved-wall to make my way to the main mansion.

  I’ll wait a little longer, maybe his beloved will answer sooner than later.

  “Did you ask my father?” A female voice.

  “Of course, but I want your answer.” The anxiety I heard earlier is almost gone in the male’s voice. “So? What will it be? Or am I just going to stay down here forever?” There’s laughter in his voice and I imagine he’s smiling up into the face of his soon to be fiancee.

  This tender moment does little to erase how I feel about the grounds being open to visitors from the Sixty. I find it to be a nuisance. The estate should be a place where we can be safe from prying eyes. Rather, we invite the public to scrutinize us. Still, there’s some truth to Father’s logic. At least the monthly polls on the net suggest so. While my Nome is the second ranked in the Group of Twenty, it is the most popular on the net with its companies, products and “personalities” - that being Father and I - being the most widely discussed, researched and purchased of the other Nomes.

  “Yes, yes. I’ll marry you, yes!”

  In my head, the two beloveds are in an embrace. Low mutterings of “I love you” only furthers my imagination.

  Without warning, a cold spell washes over me. This moment should spur happiness for the couple, but it slices at my insides. I wish I had the luxury to say yes to that simple, yet excruciating request. It must be nice to choose that one person to spend a lifetime with.

  As my father’s only child, love and romance will play little part in how I end up with my mate. Unless, I manage a miracle.

  “You two weren’t supposed to leave the main mansion!”

  Now is my chance to step out.

  Stepping around the wall, a short man approaches the two lovebirds ahead of me. He’s in black, the color worn by the estate’s grounds personnel and my family’s insignia is plastered on his back.

  The newly engaged lady glances past him and sees me. She wrenches her palm from her betrothed and hustles past both him and the grounds man, whose broad shoulders heave up and down.

  “Scioness, I just knew I would see you today!” She grabs hold of my forearm. “Didn’t I tell you, baby?”

  I do my best not to fling her hands off me. Strangers stepping into my personal space is a big pet peeve, but I especially detest when they touch me without my permission.

  Her newly-minted fiance strides up to us. With hands on her shoulders, he steers her a few steps away from me. He blushes, embarrassed by her enthusiasm. “One should never appear too eager as it smacks of desperation and desperation is a weakness reserved to fools.” That is a lesson from Portan that has always served me well. Many of the Lower Houses families don’t have guides like my Master Portan. Sadly, this lady would have benefited from such sound instruction.

  “Can we take a photograph with you?” She’s straining to get past her fiance’s grasp.

  Whisking away the words I truly want to say, I beckon them over with an insincere smile. She drags her soon-to-be husband with her.

  The grounds man snaps away as she regales me on my dress. My hair. My skin. Her fiance says, “she’s your biggest fan.” The words sound more like an apology than something I’m to be proud of.

  “I want to change my eye color to your hazel-gray shade, but,” she places a hand on her fiance and lovingly glances at him, “he prefers mine the way they are even though they remind me of ruddy water, personally.”

  “Yours are stunning.” I fib. “I like the hints of cocoa that hide in there.”

  Her smile is bound to split her face. “See, baby? I told you she’s the sweetest person in the world. This has been the best day of my life! First, he proposes and now, I get to meet you!”

  I dip my head in feigned gratitude for the compliment and back away. The grounds man takes them away. The fiance, who puts an arm around her shoulder, says, “let’s go tell our families the good news.”

  Glad to be rid of them, I head in the opposite direction to Father.

  Chapter Nine

  Stepping into the shaded entrance of the main mansion has become a weird experience for me. My gaze sweeps all the way to the ceiling and from side to side. I take in the thatched ceiling and its mirrored sections reflect everything below including my face. The mirrors intersect with wood and metal to form repeated patterns of my nome’s insignia.

  This was once my home until recently and these hallways, garnished in framed pieces of wall art and furniture, were my playground. The visitor’s center is to my right and double doors on my left lead to a stairwell and a cluster rooms I never frequent.

  Stopping short to avoid a cleanbot that zips by, an AI chirps, “Apologies, Scioness” as he chases behind the unit. The cleanbot must be malfunctioning. I’ll be sure to mention it to the house manager, Ms. Potts.

  I focus on the main structural feature of the lobby. The staircase. It’s heavy with finely detailed mahogany. I was 12 when I twisted an ankle racing up to the library with Bel on my heels. Portan had been furious with me that day, reminding me that I mustn't take stupid risks as my nome’s future depends on me. “What if you’d twisted your neck, scioness? What would happen to the nome?” Since then, I’ve never charged up or down any stairs. It must be a figment of my imagination, but, I feel my ankle pulse at the memory of the accident.

  I’m just anxious about being summoned. Yes, that has to be it. A summons from Father is never a good thing. Titan Nabo Reffour is an intimidating figure. Even to me, his own daughter. My neck stiffens as I consider what criticism I have coming.

  Walking down the second floor hallway, I wring out my hands, trying to relax. I pass framed pictures of my ancestors but it’s the sight of my late mother’s interactive photograph that calms me down. Our eyes meet and her stationary image transforms with her beaming down at me. We have the same hazel-gray eyes and hers crinkle at the corner. She looks as if nothing could possibly go wrong in the world. I smile back, instinctively, drawing strength from her.

  Two steps later and the black mahog
any doors to the office suites recognize my presence. They slide aside for me to enter a dimly lit room - the narthex. Directly across from the entrance are two additional black doors that bear the family’s symbol. Infused with the highest quality osmite, those doors would keep back any violence leveled at it. Father’s personal secretaries, sit at wall-length desks on either side of the room. Their faces, lit by screens, are intent on their jobs.

  “Scioness.” Aina says that one word and it rattles my teeth.

  While I prefer my AI to be incorporeal, Father’s office AI stands proudly in a metallic body. Designed to appear female, Aina protects my father from all unwanted guests. The humanoid stands at just about my height. Her artificial hair is jet black as is her suit. A strip of lights runs down her sides from her armpits down to her feet. They flicker as she processes information. I find them particularly unattractive and distracting.

  “Are you here to see your daddy?”