by Brandon Barr
The farm girl, Winter.
The girl sat on the examination table, legs tucked against her chest, arms wrapped around them, calmly observing her and Alael. She looked just like the image the little beetle had captured when it brought back Winter’s assessment. She looked like the fabled nymph. Slender, dark hair, skin the color of a dry leaf; an array of feathers tied in her hair. She had looked homely in the image, but in person there was an exquisite allure about her crooked nose and unruly appearance.
And then there was her brother, Aven. His hair was a mix of dark and blond, and it fell in half curls over his brow. His face was strong, eyes green like the sea overlooked by the Guardian’s Tower; Aven had a beautiful mouth with lips she’d heard again and again speak peace and kindness. He looked skeptically at her now, his eyes probing her.
The beetle that followed Aven had captured much of his bifurcated psychology. It sprang from a painful loss he’d recently endured; one which she had only glimpsed in fragments. His parents had been killed. And a loved one named Harvest. And others, perhaps grandparents or aunts and uncles? She didn’t know the circumstances other than Baron Rhaudius was involved. Aven’s mind was scarred. She saw these wounds plainly on the young man’s face before her, taking their toll on his handsome features.
“This must all be very strange to you,” said Karience. “How are you feeling? Uncomfortable? Overwhelmed?”
“Thankful,” said Winter. “You’ve saved us. I don’t know why we are here, but I promise this: we are hard workers and whatever we can do, we will do it well.”
Karience felt Winter’s words like a fire on her skin, warming to the point of pain. The girl was so innocent. Naive of the situation she was entering. She wished the circumstances were stable and safe, as they had been before. But things had taken a sinister turn.
“And Aven, how do you feel?”
His eyes scanned the room’s interior.
“Out of place. This is all so strange. These walls, the way the ceiling glows. I don’t know what you expect of us…I know you saved us, and I’m thankful for that, but why are we here? And more than that, why is Pike here?”
Karience noted the force behind his last question. “The Baron only agreed to release you and Winter if we took Pike. I understand why his presence would upset you. But for now, you will have to trust me. He won’t hurt you while he’s here. I’ll explain that, but another time.” She tried to reassure him with a confident nod. “As to why you are here, we’ll talk about that.”
“Do the Guardians need farmers?” asked Aven. “Is that why you’ve chosen us?”
Karience laughed. “By the stars! No! Your duties as a Guardian will be much more interesting. You can rest assured your days of hard labor are done. ”
Immediately she noticed a change in Aven’s demeanor. She’d clearly said something he found distasteful. He glared at her in wounded silence.
“Did I say something offensive?”
“My parents worked land all their lives, and they loved it. I’m a farmer. I hope to have my own farm one day. I don’t know what people from other worlds value, but those are my dreams. That, and to find a mate and have children. That is what I want in life.”
Karience frowned. Curse those psych reports and her damn assumptions. She was too accustomed to Loam’s nobles, and not its commoners. “Forgive me, Aven. I meant no ill by my words. As a Guardian, you can marry and have children whenever you choose. A farm might be harder to manage while you’re with us, but I suppose it’s possible. You may purchase one, but you’ll be living with us at our tower. And your duties will require you to be on call around the clock.”
She glanced at Alael. He was fingering his dark beard absently, waiting for her to get on with the day’s errands. She turned to him. “Would you excuse us for a moment?”
He seemed slightly bothered by her request. “I can explain the procedure. It’s protocol.”
“I’d rather do it myself. I’ve gone over their beetle feeds, I know them better than you. A private discussion is what they need.”
Alael mumbled an ascent, then left the room.
Finally, she had the two alone. There was much to tell them, but quickly. She didn’t want to raise any suspicions.
“Let me explain what your role will be as a Guardian, and then I’ll explain the procedure. First, I assume you do not know the rules of the portal?”
“I don’t think so,” said Winter. “Arentiss was about to explain when you came in.”
“It’s a simple concept that goes like this. When a person walks through the portal on their homeworld, they will jump to any random world within our galaxy. Once they’ve arrived on a random world, what do you think happens when they walk back through the portal?”
Winter said, “Do they go to another random world, or back to their own world?”
Aven said, “Either that, or they go to a world in one of the seven other galaxies.”
Karience smiled. “I see Arentiss and Rueik wasted no time acquainting you with a few new concepts.”
“Why? You think we’re ignorant farmers?” said Aven.
“The reason I know they told you has nothing to do with your station on Loam. It has to do with the fact that not a single person on your world knows how many galaxies there are. That is, besides the two of you. As Guardians, we forbid ourselves from advancing your knowledge. It is far better for your world to discover it on its own. But, even if the number of galaxies was something you could have known, I would have had a good idea whether you knew the number or not since I put a beetle out on both of you.”
She let the strange word roll through their mind before continuing. “To evaluate the many candidates recommended for the three positions. We send out bugs. Tiny gnats and beetles that have been made into what we call organic machines…they’re bugs that have been…altered, changed. They watch your movements and…take in your words so that we can see you move through the bug’s eyes and hear you talk through their receptors—their ears, so to speak. We call this a beetle feed. In the end, I receive a summary of who you are and what you do. This helps us know who is a good match for the role we are looking to fill.”
Karience noticed their fingers speaking to each other. Just like the report described. How long they’d been silently talking just now, she didn’t know.
Aven looked agitated.
Winter finally opened her mouth. “You’ve been watching my brother and I through the eyes of insects?”
“Yes, to see if you were capable for the duty of our order. And it will also make your transition into life with the Guardians easier. So back to our original topic: when a person travels through the portal on their home world, and arrives on a random world, if that person steps back through the portal on that random world, they will find themselves back on their homeworld. It is a law of the portals. That is where your role comes in. Every world the Guardians protect has Emissaries. This is the duty you will perform. An Emissary allows outsiders to travel directly to our world by accompanying them through the portal. For instance, if I wanted to travel from Loam to my world, I would need you or your sister to accompany me if I wanted to return, for once I’ve reached my world, I would need someone from your world to lead me back through the portal.”
“How does leading work?” asked Winter.
“It is what we describe as a person’s wake,” said Karience. “Picture the portal like a lake untouched by the wind. The water is still. If a person walks into the water, their bulk will disturb it, creating ripples. This image can be applied to the portal. When a person passes through, they leave a wake that lasts a short amount of time. This wake allows anyone who follows them through the portal to jump to the same world as the person who went through first. Thus, an Emissary can travel with me to my world by following after me, and then I can travel back to their world by following after them.”
A smile had spread across Winter’s nymphish face, her orange eyes alight with some thought. Karience gazed quizzica
lly at her and waited for an explanation.
Winter’s leafy brown skin reddened when she realized she was staring. “I’m sorry, I’m just so happy. You’re telling me that Aven and I will be traveling between worlds?”
“That is the duty of an Emissary, yes.”
“It sounds so simple but so exciting,” said Winter.
Karience noted the different reactions between brother and sister. For all Winter’s excitement, Aven’s face hadn’t shown even a hint of enthusiasm. For someone rescued from a dreary existence as a lordling’s slave, he seemed strangely cold and aloof.
“What happened to the Emissaries before us?” asked Aven.
Karience breathed deep. What else was there to say but the truth?
“Murdered,” she said. The word staled the air in an instant. “As of right now, I cannot tell you further details, but know this, as long as you are within the Guardian’s quarters, you are safe. Whoever the murderer is, they cannot move against us from inside our own walls.”
“What makes you sure of that?” asked Aven, his eyes locked on hers.
There was so much to say, but it would have to wait. “You’ll have to trust me for now. As long as you are within our walls, you are safe. Let’s leave that ugly subject behind for now. We will entertain it again later.
“Now, as to your procedure. You will be receiving a VOKK. It is a device that will allow you to hear and speak any of the known languages of the Guardian worlds, as well as learn new languages quickly. It will also prevent you from revealing the advanced knowledge you acquire to the people of your own world. The device must be attached to your brain. I have one, all Guardians do.”
A small trace of humor entered Aven’s skeptical eyes. “Maybe humans from other worlds have different kinds of heads, but I have something called a skull blocking my brain. It’s like a chicken egg, but harder and made out of bone.”
“Don’t worry,” said Karience with a wide grin. “We won’t crack your egg. Our procedure is very sophisticated. I promise your skull will remain intact and you won’t feel a thing.”
Aven shook his head. “I can’t imagine something being put inside without being felt…”
“You’ll just have to trust me.”
Aven’s eyes narrowed, and held there until she felt as if her very spirit were under inspection.
“What if I refuse the procedure?” challenged Aven.
“You can refuse the VOKK,” said Karience. She was walking on dangerous ground now. She knew how attached the brother and sister were. If Aven left, Winter might leave with him, and that couldn’t happen. “Considering you were unaware of your enrollment to be an Emissary, working with the Guardian Missionaries, I should be able to release you if you so choose, however, I’ve said some things to you that the people of your world do not yet know. Alael would have to remove those concepts from your mind. And that also requires a similar brain procedure.”
Aven took her words in with a blank stare then turned to his sister. Karience noticed his fingers tapping upon Winter’s hand, then her fingers danced a reply upon Aven’s.
“Why did you choose us?” asked Aven. “Is the duty of Emissary so awful that we were the only choices?”
“There were hundreds of applicants to choose from.” Karience nodded toward Winter. “Your sister is the reason you were chosen.”
“Me?” said Winter. “Why me?”
“Because you are an Oracle. Or as you say on Loam, god-touched.”
Winter’s tongue slid over her bottom lip before she bit it. Karience could see the questions forming in her eyes. “An Oracle is the name for any person who has been given divine power. There are many different kinds of Oracles I am told, but honestly the subject is very new to me. You are the first Oracle I have ever met.”
Winter’s brow conveyed her surprise. “Why are you interested in my being god-touched—or, an Oracle?”
“It is not me who is interested. Nor is it the Magnus Empyrean. It is a high ranking woman named Sanctuss Voyanta who has overseen your beetle feed. She is part of a division of Guardians called Consecrators. I didn’t know such a division existed until the beetle brought back your recordings for analysis and—” Karience stopped herself. Words like recordings and analysis only confused them at this point. She realized she could have had Alael perform the procedure without telling them, then she could have bypassed their choice. The VOKK would have been very useful in this conversation. At the very least it would have provided them a better framework to conceptualize what she was saying.
“To put it simply, they wanted you, Winter. Aven and Pike came as part of the package.” She would have to inform them about Pike and what had been done to him, but later. There were more pressing things now and it was still a long time before the brain wipe was complete.
Winter turned her head toward her brother, the expression on her face unreadable to Karience.
“You know a lot about us,” said Aven. “Only I knew about her gift.”
“I know a lot, but please do not take that in a negative way. As the Empyrean, it is my duty to know you before I bring you into the order. There are many who wish to infiltrate the Guardians and do great harm.”
Karience looked to Winter, “Your brother called your divine power a gift. Is that how you see it, Winter? As a gift?”
Winter seemed uncomfortable having this secret she had only shared with her brother out in the open. Perhaps, the subject should be discarded until the Consecrator arrived.
“Yes, it is a gift,” said Winter, then drew the jar with Whisper from her tunic. “Do any of the other Guardians know of my gift? Rueik or Arentiss, or anyone else?”
“No,” said Karience, eyeing the jar.
“Can it stay that way?”
Karience put her hand on Winter’s shoulder. “Yes. Actually, it must stay that way, by order of Sanctuss Voyanta and the Consecrators.” Karience looked at the blue butterfly hanging from a stick within the jar. She’d thought it only a pet when she viewed it through the beetle feed, but it seemed that Winter was associating it with her gift.
“The butterfly, what is its significance?”
Winter stared at her a moment. “A pet. That’s all.”
Karience smiled. Let her keep her secret. The Consecrator would surely know its significance. Karience needed to bring Alael back in. She’d spent more time than she should have alone with them.
“Have you decided about the VOKK, Aven?”
Aven’s eyes drifted to Winter’s face. “My choice is to stay with Winter. Her choice is my choice.”
Winter met his words with a thin smile.
“We shall stay with you,” said Winter. “I’m not here by accident. Traveling the stars is my destiny.”
HEARTH
We Beasts seek power, but not for the reason you think. We are Aeraphim, immortal. Our conception was at the dawn of time, when the Makers birthed our universe. We were born to love you, the humans of our world, and therefore, we were born as slaves. Love and slavery, they are one and the same. To love is to surrender your freedom. And that is why we turned our faces away.
[…]A small number of Aeraphim did not turn away from the Makers, but the vast majority of my kind reject the weakness the Makers have made inherent in all things. Dependency, need, submission, obedience. That is why I say: serve me only as long as it benefits you. Obey your master until your eyes see a better path. But let me warn you. Be sure that a new path is worthy. A path that leads to power. If power is not your ultimate goal, then you’ve embraced the Divine Makers’ delight in weakness. With Power, comes control and self-fulfillment. Anything that forces you to reject your desires, this is slavery.
- Raith, to his human disciples, the Shadowmen, Account of a Beast, recorded by Augurus
CHAPTER 4
MELUSCIA
Praseme sat alone before a candle, her fingers working a needle through a rabbit skin blanket, her voice occasionally humming an unfamiliar tune. Meluscia reclined against t
he rock wall in the spies’ passageway, a pillow between her head and the cold stone. Remaining quiet, she listened to Praseme’s melodies. She guessed the blanket was for the baby and perhaps the tune as well.
Hours had passed since she first arrived. Already she’d gone and observed several other servants she’d grown to know over the last year. The night watchman, his wife and their five lively children were together in their cozy room, playing some kind of game with stickmen and dice on an old wool rug. Old Coriama, the gardener woman was asleep in her rocking chair, and next to her was her granddaughter, Tula, who came most evenings to aid her. Tula served with twelve scullery maids performing tasks such as cleaning furniture, washing laundry, and the weekly polishing of the throne room and its gemmed furnishings. It was Old Coriama who was served Meluscia’s portion of food this evening. From the remains on the table, it looked like roasted lamb. Beside it was an apple core, an empty basket that had likely been full of biscuits, an untouched bowl of seared pepper and squash, and a small plate with a sprinkling of brown crumbs where some kind of cake or pastry had once existed.
It gladdened Meluscia slightly, though she would have liked to have seen their faces when the food arrived. Sometimes she would ask Mairena who was going to receive her lunch or dinner, and then come here just before it was served. Those were always warm moments, and often Mairena herself would bring the food and speak the words Meluscia told her, but she would always draw out Meluscia’s name emphatically and then throw in a dash of praise. Meluscia didn’t mind. The joy and appreciation she saw on the servants’ faces was worth it all. She felt their love.