When it was obvious that Janyn wasn’t going to speak no matter how much time they gave him, Anou raised his voice in farakaoina again. It was a call for silence, just a nudge of one rather than a true command and more ritual than necessity. Anou could have hushed them all without it. His voice would have been enough. His words would have been enough. But Anou-minnoi was following protocol and his farakaoina ensured that the allegations against Janyn cut through the muttering that had started up again. Soon only Anou’s voice could be heard. Kerisaoina never broke a promise. Kerisaoina rarely promised at all.
Arèn did wish he could see properly then, but he’d have to lift Eiryn along with him and she was far too heavy. Keilan had told him the decision had been to exile the boy from the city and to strip his father of his seat among the faslaeraoina. Anou would be explaining why soon. Arèn could hear some of the people in the crowd begin to grumble as the shock wore off. Not everyone would agree with the decision. No one ever did. Eiryn stirred beside him and pressed herself closer against him. “Shh.” He started to stroke her hair again. At some point he’d stopped; he hadn’t noticed.
“— will never be able to ascertain the truth of events,” he heard Anou say. “It is a danger we cannot allow in our midst, a risk we cannot agree to, but Janyn is only a boy.” And boys, even Arèn agreed, could make mistakes and grow up into different people. Myrtan would never be able to return, but his son might one day. Keilan hadn’t mentioned it, but there had been no need to. Arèn had already known. He didn’t know how to feel about having it confirmed.
When Arèn hugged his niece more tightly, Eiryn squirmed a little in protest. He loosened his grip. It didn’t stop Eiryn from wriggling until she’d turned herself around and wrapped her arms around his neck. For perhaps a minute, Arèn rested his face against her head and hugged Eiryn back like she was the only person in the whole world.
Looking up at the proceedings again, his gaze crossed Myrtan’s. Or he thought it did. Arèn couldn’t be sure. The other man was standing in middle of the hall, shoulders straight and a haughty sneer on his face, one hand on his son’s shoulder. The boy looked so miserable that Arèn felt a true pang of sympathy for him.
He watched as Myrtan and his son walked out of the hall and then sought for Mystá among the gathered crowd. She had been disallowed from the discussions regarding her brother and nephew as much as Arèn had been, but he couldn’t find her. Perhaps she wasn’t there. Perhaps she’d made plans to come with them and he wouldn’t have to worry about the advances everyone assured him she was making. Not wanting to upset his niece, Arèn suppressed a sigh. Perhaps Eiryn needed a mother more than he needed to be alone. Arèn didn’t know. Perhaps he should leave Eiryn with Keilan for the day and talk to Mystá. How she’d feel about him now, he couldn’t begin to say. And Eiryn was shivering against him again, scrunching his shirt with her fists. No, he certainly couldn’t leave her with anyone else today.
The crowd had begun to rise. It took Arèn a few minutes to realise that the faslaeranoina had already left the hall without him noticing. Quite a number of spectators remained seated in the aisles of the gallery and discussion buzzed around him like a swarm of mosquitoes. Arèn should have been paying attention, but his niece had sniffled a few times and he hadn’t known what to do. The only thing he could think of was to stay seated until she stopped clinging to him.
“You shouldn’t hold her so tightly. You’ll hurt her.”
Arèn almost jumped. “Zannan-minnoi.” The other man towered over them before sitting down on the bench beside Arèn. “I am grateful you have not let your own feelings cloud the Balance,” he said, careful to keep his tone almost neutral.
“Never. I look forward to being on opposite sides once more.” Zannan stretched out his legs and rested his head against the wall. “Don’t look like that, Arèn,” he said.
It took a few moments for Arèn to realise that he’d been scowling at the other faslaeraoina.
“You and Keilan keep me on my toes.” Eiryn shifted against him and he looked down. If not for the way she was clenching and unclenching her fist, she’d seem to be asleep.
With a sigh, Arèn asked, “What do you want?” Perhaps it would be a good idea to get away from the city for a while. He could use the distance himself and it would give rumours a chance to run their course. The other man moved again, to sit straighter and turn to look at Arèn properly.
A heartbeat long, Arèn thought Zannan wasn’t going to answer, but then the man said, “I wanted to talk to your niece myself. I haven’t yet.”
Unsure how to respond, Arèn stared at the bronze hand touching his niece’s shoulder. Eiryn had stopped shivering at least, but that offered him little comfort when she looked up at Zannan and said, “You don’t like me.”
Arèn wondered how she knew. When Zannan withdrew his hand and looked to Arèn, he could only shrug.
Finally, the man said, “I don’t know you, Eiryn-minnai. I can neither like nor dislike you. I dislike what you are, but since I don’t know you I can’t dislike who you are. Do you understand the difference?”
Arèn squeezed his niece’s hand lightly, just enough to remind her that he was there. “She’s five, Zannan. Don’t tell me you’re about to take Myrtan’s place.” He truly needed to take Eiryn away from the city for a while.
“I’m not. Arèn, I just wanted to meet your niece. We’re not all like Myrtan.”
Arèn had no idea how to interpret that and, at the moment, he had absolutely no desire to. Keilan returning into the hall gave him an excuse to ignore the subject as he called for her. When she was near them, his niece slid off his lap. Keilan held out a hand for her to take and Arèn heart ached, just a little, to see Eiryn seek comfort with someone else.
Zannan rose. “Keilan-minnai. Arèn-minnoi. Eiryn-minnai.” The man bowed lightly and left.
After he was gone, Keilan asked, “What was that all about?”
“He doesn’t like me.”
Keilan looked down at Eiryn while Arèn got up and walked over. He placed a hand on his niece’s shoulder. “It’s all right, safai.” He really should stop her from pulling on her hair all the time. She’d hurt herself. He wasn’t going to ask Keilan’s advice at the moment, though. Not with Eiryn right there to get upset at them for the discussion. At least it still looked like she’d stopped shivering. When Arèn pressed a hand to her forehead, she didn’t seem to have a fever either.
Straightening from his crouch, he found Keilan looking at him. “What?” he asked with a frown.
“Nothing. I came to fetch Eiryn.”
“What for?” He hadn’t meant for it to sound as defensive as he felt, but Keilan only raised her eyebrows at him. “Keilan?” He drew the name out, long enough that it almost settled into the beginning of a farakaoina. “What are you up to?”
“A trip to the beach. The weather’s good and I thought Eiryn would like it.”
“If she wants to go, certainly.” Arèn smiled, then surprised himself when he asked to come along too. He didn’t trust Myrtan and he didn’t want to leave his niece alone. Besides, it’d been ages since he’d last gone to the beach. He never had the time. It would do him good and he rarely spent time with Eiryn. He was always too busy working. It would make a change.
“Can Radèn-minnoi come too, Arèn-minnoi? Can he? Can he? Can he?”
Arèn hesitated. “If we can find him and he wants to…” He’d hoped to spend some time alone with his niece. Keilan hardly counted. Radèn would undoubtedly pull Eiryn’s attention away from him.
Keilan rapped him on the head. “You’re thinking too much. When is the last time you’ve made a sand sculpture?”
Arèn batted Keilan’s arm away when she moved to hit him again and Eiryn even giggled, presumably at his reaction. “I have never made sand sculptures.”
“I’ll teach you, Arèn-minnoi!”
Arèn looked
down. His niece was bouncing on her feet. Keilan, when he looked up, was grinning. I think I walked right into that one, he thought to himself before giving into the moment. With an exaggerated sigh, he said, “I shall never learn how to make sand sculptures, asafai. I’m far too old.”
Keilan nudged him in the ribs hard enough to make him wince. “Nonsense. Eiryn and Radèn are great teachers. You’ll get the hang of it in no time at all.” When he looked at her, she was glaring at him. Yes, he definitely needed to get away from the city for a while soon. He’d never hear the end of this otherwise.
He smiled and took Eiryn’s hand. “Well, that’s all right then. Let’s go find ourselves the last member of our party and raid the kitchens for some provisions.”
Keilan only laughed as Eiryn pulled the both of them towards the door. Arèn would have to find a way to warn Mayry-minnoi and the staff. This idea was bound to create a horrible mess, but it would be nice to let go of his duties for a while after that. Perhaps he’d have fun. Eiryn certainly would. He’d make sure of that.
Ao, aos, aon — Pronoun. Loosely equivalent to the use of genderneutral pronouns in English, indicating that a person identifies as neither male nor female in kerisaoina society. [See: tarènaoi]
Asafai, asafoi, asafaoi — A stronger endearment than safai. [See: safai]
Balance — Along with fasaoi the pillar of kerisaoina belief. They believe that the world is precariously balanced between existence and destruction. Quite what keeps the Balance tipped away from destruction is almost constantly up for debate. Nothing matters more to kerisaoina society than maintaining the Balance and keeping the universe from being destroyed.
-dai, -doi, -daoi — Honorific that indicates an intimate relationship either between parents and children, lovers or very good friends. It has no English equivalent, but it can be interpreted as ‘dear’ if necessary. It is most commonly used to address loved ones.
Enkeina — A magical stone at the highest point of Lir. It is believed that natural disaster doesn’t strike the island-city thanks to the magic inherent in the stone. The rysharaoina is in charge of ensuring that the Enkeina works as it’s supposed to.
Farakaoina — Can loosely be translated as ‘songs’ and interpreted more accurately as ‘spells’. Kerisaoina magic relies on melodic lines to work, so farakaoina most commonly refers to those ‘songs’ that can be used to perform magic. There is a wide-spread belief among kerisaoina society that even the slightest fault in a farakaoina can destroy the world, though in recent years scholars have begun to question the truth of this. The term is rarely used to refer to gaodansaoina music, though when it is the intent is usually mocking and derisive.
Fasaoi — Magic. Kerisaoina believe that magic is all around them, like air, and believe that it is different from the magic that gaodansaoina use. Fasaoi also has a religious aspect as kerisaoina will treat it as a living thing in its own right. It matters as much to them as the Balance. Kerisaoina see fasaoi both as all magic in the world as they see it as a specific kind of magic that only a kerisaoina can use.
Faslaeraoina — Those kerisaoina in charge of discussing matters of morality as well as those of the state. Faslaeraoina are the arbiters of kerisaoina society. There are twenty faslaeraoina in total. Their gatherings are usually led by the eldest of their number. Faslaeraoina are not elected for life, though this tends to be what happens in practice. Most will choose to remain a part of the faslaeraoina council until they are too old to hear fasaoi guide their actions.
Gaodansaoina — One of the two races in Teiaru. They are the most widely spread race and cannot use farakaoina.
Kerisaoina — One of the two races in Teiaru. They are a small group, mostly concentrated in the island-city of Lir. They have a deep mistrust of music as entertainment and are often highly intolerant of gaosandaoina merry-making.
-minnai, -minnoi, -minnaoi — Honorific that indicates a formal relationship. The closest English equivalent would be ‘mister’ or ‘madam’. It is most commonly used to address one’s elders or strangers.
Palmbound — One of the kerisaoina ways of getting married. Palmbinding is an unbreakable marriage vow that lasts even after one partner has passed away. It is extremely rare.
Rysharai, rysharoi, rysharaoi — The kerisaoina in charge or foreign affairs and seen as the figurehead of their society. Also in charge of ensuring that the Enkeina will continue to protect the island-city of Lir from natural disaster.
Safai, safoi, safaoi — An endearment, such as ‘sweetheart’ or ‘darling’. It is usually used to address children. An adult using it to address another adult carries a similar tone to using ‘baby’ to address someone in English.
Sifanou — Imbalance. Sifanou is only ever used as an insult and is the worst slur within the kerisaoina language. To call someone sifanou is to imply that someone’s very existence is enough to tear the universe apart and they should die, preferably by committing suicide, to restore the Balance of the universe. As a result, it is the worst insult kerisaoina society has.
Tarènaoi — The kerisaoina third gender. Unlike many Western countries in our world, kerisaoina view gender as ternary rather than binary, though the term tarènaoi covers a spectrum of gender rather than a fixed point.
Content notes are notes that help readers decide whether a book contains material that they need to be in a specific mindset for or avoid altogether. Sometimes they're known as trigger warnings, which are intended to help trauma survivors avoid being surprised by content that will trigger them.
Common in fandom, these notes are controversial in original written fiction yet a staple of other forms of media such as films and games.
This book contains warnings for:
racism
bullying
depression
suicide ideation
family death
Thanks for this story in particular go to my parents. Thanks, mum! Without you to encourage my love or reading and words when I was little, I might have become a very different person. (She was instrumental in my childhood poking at bad limericks and atrocious rhymes.) Thanks, dad! I already loved fairy tales, but you reading The Hobbit to me when I was little cemented my love of the fantasy genre. (Reading is hard for him. His reading Tolkien to me is one of my favourite anecdotes because it means so much to me.)
Thanks also go to my writerly friends, of course, for all their encouragement and friendship over the years. Thank you Alyssa, Brandi, Elizabeth, for all your generous cheerleading and friendship. Thank you, Amy, for always putting up with my rambling. Thank you, Panth, for your cheerleading and invaluable betareading help as I posted this as a WIP online. Thank you, Becca, for your snarky betareading. Without you this story would have been a mess and editing a chore. Instead, I had to be careful I didn't spend my time doubling up with laughter. Thank you so much for that. Especial thanks go to C.A. Webster, who is one of the most generous people I know, and to Ashlyn Nafina for putting up with my questions.
Lastly I’d like to thank my readers for their support and generosity, whether they’ve lurked at the webserial version I released throughout 2014, read the finished and polished draft you’re holding in your hands, reviewed one of my other books… Thank you. It means the world.
Lynn O’Connacht has an MA in English literature and creative writing, but wouldn’t call herself an authority on either. She currently resides on the European continent and her idiom and spelling are, despite her best efforts, geographically confused, poor things. Her tastes are equally eclectic, though fantasy will always be her first love. She has been chasing stories one way or another since she was old enough to follow a narrative.
Connect with Lynn online:
http://www.leoconnacht.com
http://twitter.com/lynnoconnacht
More Books by Lynn:
Courage Is the Price
Feather by Feather and Other Stories
Sea Foam and Silence
Thank you for reading!
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