Zora turned with an exaggerated swish of her train and growled at the giant. Her eyes flashed. “If Leptor shows his face here again, kill him.” Her expression was ugly when she glanced at me. “I thought your eyes would make you valuable, but I was wrong. Tomorrow we will take you to an oculist. A lens will disguise that eye.” Zora flicked her fingers dismissively. “I’m certain I can find another buyer willing to pay a good price.”
5
The Second Diary
“Brynna,” Trill shrieked when I entered the holding room. She rushed forward and clasped me in a long hug. “What happened?”
The giant slammed the door shut. I waited for the lock to click before answering.
“Zora tried to sell me to one of her clients. He took one look at my eyes and ran. He called me a devil-woman.” I grinned and described the odd stranger in colorful detail.
Trill laughed and lifted her finger. “Score one for the devil-woman.”
I nodded, relieved I’d been rejected, but I recalled the prophecy in the first diary. Was I a devil-woman? Was I the one destined to destroy the Femin sisterhood?
“I don't understand why the man didn’t buy you. In Nuvega, variety is usually valued. But I’m glad he didn’t.” She gave me another hug and perched on the side of her bed.
I ripped off the silver gown, crumpled it into a ball and threw it into a corner. I searched for the pile of dirty garments where I’d hidden the diary. “Where are our clothes?” I took an unsteady breath and faced Trill.
“They’ve taken them to be washed. Don’t look so worried. I hid your book under your bed when it fell out of your boot.” She pointed to the location. “What is it anyway? I couldn’t understand a word, and the drawings are strange.”
Relieved that the diary was still hidden, I decided to share what I knew, especially since she’d already examined it. “It belonged to an old Genetrix who lived on our island. I’m hoping it will give me some answers about being Femin. There’s still a lot I don’t know.” I shivered and looked around for something to wear.
“They brought another disgusting juba.” Trill pointed to a red garment draped over a chair then rubbed her hands together. “It’s getting colder.” She grabbed the blanket from her bed and wrapped it around her.
“It’s going to be an uncomfortable night.” I pulled the thicker juba over my head and wrapped myself in the other blanket. Sitting side by side on the bed, we huddled to keep warm.
“What do you think is going to happen now?” Trill's voice quivered but I knew it wasn’t only due to the cold.
Despite the solar light, the room’s atmosphere still felt menacing.
I shivered from both cold and dread. “I think Zora will try to sell me again. She mentioned taking me to an oculist to get a lens to cover my amber eye. I’ll be glad of that at least.”
“Why? It will make it easier for her to find a buyer, which isn’t good for you.”
“But it will hide my eye.”
“I don’t understand.” She looked bewildered. “Why do you need to hide it?”
I had to tell her what I knew about the prophecy. She had a right to know why the Genetrix might be chasing me; as long as Trill was with me, she’d also be a target. “My mismatched eyes aren’t from an injury. They’re an inherited trait among Femin women from my mother’s village. If someone sees me, they might know about the trait and tell the Genetrix.”
“I get it. So even without singing, it’s another way the Genetrix could find you.”
“Yes, but that’s not the whole reason the Genetrix might want to catch me.”
Trill’s mouth dropped open. “This story just gets weirder and weirder. What else?”
“There’s a Femin prophecy. It predicts that someone with strange eyes will destroy the sisterhood.”
Trill gave a long whistle. “You’re worried the Genetrix will suspect that someone is you.”
I shrugged. “What would you think in her situation?”
She grimaced. “What will she do if she catches you?”
“I don’t want to think about it.” I pulled the diary from under my bed and stroked the worn material. “Perhaps I’ll get some clearer information from this.”
“I hope you have more luck than I did,” she said, waiting for me to examine the book.
I fingered the cover, feeling the raised outline of the oracle stone, then gently opened the book. Unlike the first diary, there was very little text. Line drawings filled the pages. I flipped through the book, trying to decipher the sketches.
I stopped at one that was familiar. In it, a woman stood with her arms outstretched overhead. A second woman sat restrained in a chair, her head hanging. Wavy lines radiated from the first woman, connecting her to the second. It was a distressing scene I’d envisioned many times.
I squeezed my eyes closed, remembering the horrifying nightmares Mother and I had experienced. Always during a full moon. Always painful and terrifying. Always this same image.
“You see what I mean? That’s just bizarre, isn’t it?” Trill pointed to the line of text below the image. “Can you read what it says?”
I resisted the urge to turn the page. I took a deep breath and focused on the short caption. I attempted a translation but the lump in my throat made speaking difficult. “It says something about eternal life.”
“That doesn’t make sense. No one lives forever.” Trill pointed to the seated woman. “Look at her face. It’s as if she’s being tortured. And what’s that strange thing around the neck of the other woman?”
I knew what it was. I’d seen it before. It matched the image on the cover of the diary. “It’s called an oracle stone. The Genetrix has one. I saw it.”
“What’s it for?”
“I think it enhances the power of the Genetrix.” I felt panicked and quickly turned the page.
Trill leaned forward for a better view. “Look at the next picture. It’s bizarre too.”
In the second drawing, three women stood together, each holding an oracle stone aloft. They were encircled by seven vertical towers. This time, wavy lines linked all the images. I couldn’t translate any of the text in the caption below.
“There’s some strange stuff going on at Prima Feminary.” Trill’s words mirrored my own thoughts.
The second diary was much thinner than the first one Weyland had found in the cave. I thumbed quickly through the remaining pages. None of the images made much sense. Perhaps Mother would be able to understand the drawings, if I ever saw her again.
When I see her again, I reminded myself.
“Wait a minute.” Trill grabbed the book from my hands. She turned the book on its end then examined the front and back cover, squeezing each in turn between her finger and thumb. “There’s something odd here.”
“You mean other than the strange drawings and the weird language?” I tried to joke, but her face remained serious.
“It’s the cover. The back one is thicker than the front.” She ran her fingernail down the spine, cutting a groove near the spine edge of the thicker cover.
“You’ll damage it. What are you doing?”
“Don’t you see? Something must be hidden in the back binding.” She peeled away the loosened material revealing a thin, square, two-inch, plate. Small threads protruded from under its perimeter. “Pull it out.”
Trill held back the cloth. I used the threads to lift the square from its nest. We both gasped at the dazzling circular stone beneath. Smaller but similar to the one I’d seen in the Genetrix’s necklace my first day in Hypor City, it continuously flashed the colors of the rainbow.
“It looks like the one in the first drawing,” said Trill. “What did you call it?”
“An oracle stone. It must have belonged to the old Genetrix.” I wondered why she’d hidden it in the diary.
Trill continued to stare at the stone. “What should we do with it? We can’t leave it in the book. Zora might find it.”
“I doubt she could use it.” I
suspected only Femin could.
“Maybe not, but she could sell it. Something this unusual would fetch a high price in Nuvega.”
I lifted the flashing stone from its hiding place. It was as thin as a leaf. I expected a razor’s edge, but when I ran my finger over the perimeter, it was dull rather than sharp.
“Your aura just went mega!” Trills eyes were popping.
I laughed. “What does that mean?”
She wafted her hand as if batting away my question. “Did you feel something when you picked up the stone?”
I nodded. “It’s getting warmer.
“I think it responded to your touch and set your aura glowing. You should take it. Can you attach it to your necklace?”
“Yes.” I pulled my falcon necklace from its hiding place under my juba. The stone had a small fastening ring that slid along my chain. I dropped the necklace back under my clothes and pressed my hand to my chest. At first, the stone buzzed hot against my skin, then cooled to a comforting warmth.
Trill slipped a thin bangle off her wrist.
“What are you doing now?”
She picked up the diary. “I’m going to replace the stone with my bangle, just in case someone finds the hiding place and expects something inside.”
“That’s a good idea.” I was happy I’d trusted Trill. She was smart and resourceful.
With the bangle in the recess, she repositioned the threads and the stone plate, then smoothed the falcon imprinted material back into place. “Did you see that? The material adhered automatically.” She examined the spine. “Spooky.”
“Very.” There was a curious power at work that I didn’t fully understand.
The room suddenly went black.
“Useless lamp.” I pushed the diary far under the bed.
“Just as well.” Trill yawned. “We need sleep to sharpen our brains so we can devise another escape plan tomorrow.”
I admired her optimism and hoped there was another option—one that didn’t include having to use my voice.
The giant entered the room early the following morning. Trill looked pleased when he announced that we’d both be going to the oculist.
“Why do I get to go this time?”
“It’s Mistress Zora’s decision and none of your business,” bellowed the giant. “Now get going.”
It was a relief to leave the brothel even though the outside environment was dismal. The air was rank with decay. Shady figures huddled in corners, or scurried into doorways. Shackled at the wrist, Trill and I were steered through the market by the giant and two extra guards.
Once out of Utopia, our path skirted the central market. We entered a new tunnel. It was busy, but people nearby looked away when we passed. Intent on their errands, they disappeared into the various entrances cut into the walls.
Beside each doorway, a worn sign indicated the service offered. The giant stopped and rapped sharply on door displaying a painted eye. The door clicked open. He pushed us inside while instructing the guards to stay and keep watch.
We climbed two flights of stairs and entered an office dominated by an enormous desk. A woman rose from her seat behind it. Her gaze was as pointed as her chin. Close-set black eyes exaggerated her splayed nose.
The giant released our shackles and pushed me forward. “Mistress wants a blue lens for this one.”
The woman stood and pulled out tiny calipers and strange glass devices. She laid them on the desk and motioned for me to sit.
The giant growled. “Mistress wants it quick.”
The woman sniffed dismissively at the threatening tone. “You'll have it this afternoon.”
Slipping a conical device over her left eye, she positioned herself in front of me. Lifting her hand, she swiped back my hair. Her eyes widened when she noted my mismatched eyes, but she remained silent. Her tiny fingers worked quickly, carefully measuring my amber iris with her instruments. Within a few minutes, she stood and returned to her desk.
“All done. I'll send my bill along with the lens.”
The giant moved around the desk until almost nose-to-nose with the oculist. “Mistress Zora says to keep your mouth shut about this—or else.”
This time, the woman cringed slightly. Perhaps she'd crossed Zora before.
“Do you understand?” He held his snarl until the woman finally nodded.
With a grim twist to his lips, he approached us. “Let’s go.”
I stood and followed Trill down the stairs. The heavy footsteps pounded in our wake. Outside, the guards took up their positions on either side us. The giant shackled Trill and me together once more, then took the lead back to the brothel.
“Something's not right,” whispered Trill. “Look to the left.”
People hurried along the passage, darting into the nearest doorway. Then I spotted a cluster of women gathered by a stack of crates. They were dressed in purple jubas. My heart raced as the women separated and formed a line. They faced us, blocking our path.
“They’re the Genetrix's assassins.” I pulled Trill's arm, positioning her behind the giant's wide form. “We're in trouble.”
Zora's guards moved closer to their leader and formed a blockade.
“Get out of our way,” roared the giant. “We're on business for Mistress Zora.”
“We are on Genetrix business.” The tallest of the hooded females stepped forward. “Give us the women.”
“You have no rights here. Get out of the way and be gone.” The giant and his men pulled weapons from their holsters and aimed them at the women. A moment later, one of the guards crumbled to his knees. Dropping his blaster, he lifted his hand to his neck. He stared at the dart he’d removed then fell to the ground. Within seconds, he went limp.
Surprised by the assault, the giant was slow to react. The second guard, however, pushed Trill and me behind a wall of metal containers. He knelt beside us, peering around the corner as he fired his blaster. The giant flattened to the ground and rolled toward our position. The sound of blaster fire lasted a few seconds then all went silent.
The guard scanned the area. “They've gone.”
I was relieved but also curious as to why the women had left so quickly. Perhaps they wanted to avoid attention, or maybe they were under orders not to linger if there was resistance.
People emerged from their hiding places and ran from the tunnel.
Scrambling to his feet, the giant approached his fallen comrade and checked for a pulse. “He’s dead. Get his blaster,” he called to the remaining guard before returning to us. He grabbed the shackle that held us and pulled us behind him. “Mistress Zora needs to know what’s happened.”
We returned to the brothel at a quick pace. Both men continually scanned for purple jubas. The giant was gasping when we entered the slave market.
Zora was pacing impatiently in her restored red salon. “There was a report of blaster fire. What's happened?” she demanded of the wheezing giant. “Speak up.”
“We were attacked.” He panted. “Clag was killed.”
Not registering, nor caring about the dead guard, she continued questioning. “Who attacked you?”
The giant wiped his sweaty brow with the back of his hand. “Women in purple jubas. They said they were on Genetrix business.”
Zora's brows rose, then her eyes narrowed. “Why would the Genetrix's assassins attack you?” Her eyes darted from side to side. She wandered across the room, tapping one finger against her chin. “There must be a good reason.”
“They said they wanted the women.” There was hope in the giant’s voice, as if his explanation would appease his mistress.
She curled her lip and snarled at him. “Why didn’t you tell me that first?” She gestured angrily then glared at us. “It must have something to do with one of you. You both sing,” she pointed to me. “But you have mismatched eyes. That characteristic makes you unique. Why would that be important to the Genetrix?”
She hurried to a velvet curtain. Pulling it back, she opened a
compartment embedded in the wall and removed a thick book.
I tensed when I spotted a familiar design on its cover—the gold outline of an oracle stone.
Mistress Zora motioned to the giant. “Notify the kitchen to prepare them something special then take them back to their room.” She ignored us and walked to her chair where she began frantically flipping over pages.
The giant grabbed one of the servants still in the salon. “Tell cook to do as the Genetrix says.” Then he approached us and released our tethered wrists. “You heard her, let's go.”
Reluctantly, we traipsed the familiar hallway back to our room. Each time we returned to our prison, it felt more permanent.
Two servants exited as we stepped inside.
“Yippee.” Trill broke into a run as we entered. “Food!” She ripped apart a small loaf of bread.
“Enjoy your dinner.” The giant snickered as he slammed the door and locked it.
“I didn't like that laugh.” In fact, it was the first time I'd heard him laugh and it wasn’t a pleasant sound.
“Who cares,” said Trill, biting into what looked like a tiny chicken leg. “Come and eat,” she mumbled with her mouth full.
My stomach started to rumble as I joined her at the table. Half an hour later, only bones and crumbs remained.
“I feel really sleepy. Must be all the food.” Trill ambled to her bed and lay down. Within seconds, I heard soft snores.
I wasn't tired, so I decided to re-examine the diary. As I bent over to retrieve it, my head spun. The walls around me twisted, heaved and shimmered. I grabbed the edge of the bed frame with both hands to steady myself. My head started to ache. Off-balance and disorientated I collapsed onto the floor.
I closed my eyes trying to block out the distortions around me. Bizarre images swam across my mental screen. Unlike my nightmarish dreams, brash colors pulsed and danced, blinding in their vividness. Desperate for something to focus on I pressed my hand against my chest, feeling for my necklace. I felt the bulge of my falcon pendant and remembered the oracle stone when it started to heat.
The Lost Prophecy Page 4