Khari'na Made (Muse Book 1)

by Jean Winter

  She shook her head. “We don't yet know if it's permanent. We don't even know exactly what I did.”

  “Well, it could have been any number o' things: a chronic inflammation, blood clot, some dysfunctional synapses. Who knows? And whether or no' this change is permanent is no' so important to me. Just having this one day with her—getting to see her as a normal girl, if only for a short while, it means the world to me.” He was almost getting emotional again.

  Lyra took his hand. “All the more reason, then, for me to keep working today, don't you think? So you can capitalize on this precious time in case it doesn't last?”

  “Oh, I will,” he assured, bringing her hand up for a kiss, “by working with Jos' in the kitchen to prepare some food.” Lyra laughed. Then his expression grew serious. “Lyra, I have been thinking. You should start meeting with Dr. Wyk—in secret, o' course—but this ability o' yours should be explored. Think o' all the good you could do. Think o' what you might be capable if you learned about this magic and honed your ability.”

  “But what about me paying off my debt to you?” she asked, surprised. “What about all the work you need done around here? Visits like that to the university would be a sunup to sundown affair. And then I would be spending time away with Nim—”

  “Screw your debt, Sugarpip. You do no' owe me anything anymore. What is it that you want to do?”

  Dumbfounded first by his release of her servitude, and secondly, by the point blank question, Lyra didn't know what to say.

  Her thoughts began to whirl. She could not deny her growing curiosity over her “talent.” Why did she get so tired when she used it? What were those notes she was hearing? Could she learn to mend the wounds more completely? How had she healed J'Kor from across the room? A suspicion had begun to form that this ability may not be so much magic as a special gift—like how some people could read pages and pages of a book then recite the words perfectly from memory afterward. Nobody called that sorcery or evil.

  Promise me you will keep singing. The parting words of Maehan, the old Keeper of the Women, whispered into her mind. Oh my! Had Maehan known? And had she—Lyra—helped her and not even known it?

  “Mama Lyra, do you want to play with us after midmeal?” Jos'lie broke in, craning her neck over her father's shoulder.

  “Eventually,” she told Jos'lie with a smile, “but first I need to finish mucking out Whinnee's stall.”

  J'Kor looked at her. “That is no' one o' my regular morning chores. No wonder you have taken so long out there.”

  “Well, I could tell it really needed to be done, and I was just trying to be helpful and let you three have some private family time.”

  “Except, now we have a fourth member,” he asserted softly.

  “Aye, Mama Lyra! You are part o' us,” Jos'lie agreed, skipping forward to give Lyra a hug.

  Whoa. These new, mind-boggling concepts were being thrown out just a little too quickly for Lyra's comfort, and as she hugged Jos'lie back, one more rather terrifying thought struck her.

  Traveling to the city for sessions with Dr. Wyk would make for very convenient opportunities to meet with that mysterious gentleman and his coalition.

  Whoa.

  Anticipation over the radical idea filled Lyra as she followed J'Kor and his daughter to the kitchen. She should at least try one meeting to determine the group's authenticity.

  But stepping to the ice box, Lyra had to pause a moment to take quick stock of where everything stood.

  One: J'Kor just forgave her of any obligation to him, effectively endearing himself to her even further so that she hardly trusted herself around him anymore.

  Two: She was contemplating letting a professor essentially experiment on her so she could learn magic, or whatever one should call it, and begin driving with Nim around the county healing people on the sly.

  And three: She wanted to call a secret number to set up a secret meeting with a secret society whose real intentions were, well, still a secret, but should the supposed freedom become available, it would allow her to escape her slavery from the Caldreen'n government. However, it would also necessitate making the choice to leave this family into which she had just been inducted and come to feel an attachment, as well as the man whom she had adored snuggling with so much so last night that the better part of her mucking time today was spent in a daydream, looking forward to tonight when he would undress and she could climb into bed with him again! Aaaaaaack!

  Yup, that about summed it up. Boy did she need to do some more praying. Somewhat dizzily, Lyra opened the door and let the chilled air waft soothingly over her pounding forehead.

  There was a lot of talking during the meal: Jos'lie rattling off all kinds of things she wanted to read and learn and do, Breht quizzing her in a brotherly fashion to see what math problems she could perform in her head, and Lyra engaging herself with them as much as possible so she could ignore the quiet J'Kor who, it seemed, had decided Lyra was, once again, the most interesting person to watch. By meal's end, she was ready for some alone time. She needed time to think and breathe—away from that suffocating gaze that made her want to strangle him and make desperate love to him all at the same time.

  It wasn't surprising that J'Kor tried to stop her from returning to the churung stall.

  “I will finish that later,” he told her.

  “No. Let me muck.” Lyra managed a coy smile. “Whinnee and I have begun to bond and she will be sorely disappointed if I don't return and finish like I promised.”

  Her face got stroked in that special way that made Lyra tingle all over. “All right, but hurry back. We have 'bonding' to do in here, as well.”

  It was just a tease, but out on the porch a moment later, Lyra was holding onto the railing as she worked through a giddy near-swoon. You will not succumb. You will maintain your resolve. Heavenly Father, are you sure you are not tempting me above what I am able?

  The time back with Whinnee was well-spent. The hard labor cleared Lyra's head, and once that job was finished, several more minutes were taken to kneel in fervent prayer next to the warm, scaly animal contentedly chewing her hay.

  Lyra eventually returned much calmer and put together. She was swiftly dealt in to the continuing game and spent the next few hours laughing and arguing gaily over plays made and attempted cheating. Later, everyone helped with dinner. Even Breht didn't seem too grumpy over it. They met eyes over chopping vegetables, and he gave her an accepting half-smile—the first one he had ever offered.

  Laundry was barely remembered and Jos'lie chattered up another sleepover event with Mama Lyra as they folded together. They would braid each other's hair and paint nails and practice writing their names in very fancy ways. Surprisingly, J'Kor took the plans in stride. It was a special day after all. How could he say no? Lyra was quite relieved, in all honesty. As the sun sank lower in the sky, she had begun a reminder list about what was and was not acceptable behavior with him—the list actually being more for her than him. J'Kor was being oh, so patient with her, and that, darn it all, only made him more attractive!

  The six-string was brought out after laundry duty and Jos'lie delighted herself in trying her hand at strumming. After her fingers tired, however, she let her father take over while Lyra helped her sing along. Jos'lie eventually requested the silly song from last week that had helped her go back to sleep after the nightmare. This time, Lyra was much happier to oblige. She directed the chord changes for J'Kor.

  Oh, (C chord) what do you get when it's (F major) very, very wet

  on a (C again) stone all alone in (G major) spring?

  When a— (C major again) long comes the song of a (F major) sleepy mockaree.

  It's a (G dominant 7th) very funny (C major) thing.

  Ko-ko! (Yawn)

  Ko-ko! (Yawn)

  Koko, koko, (Yawn).

  Jos'lie giggled uncontrollably every time she made the yawning sound. The next verses were the same as the first with the addition of a new animal introduced each t
ime. An angry blue capry. A crying starkeling. And lastly, a stinky hobagghee. It added further insensibility to the chorus sections as the song progressed. The last time through sounded utterly ridiculous.

  Honk, honk—pee yew!

  Whoodle aye whoodle aye—wah!

  Mee yowp yowp—grrrr.

  Koko koko, (Yawn).

  Lyra was in tears by the end from Jos'lie's animated expressions as she tried to get in all the words and sounds. J'Kor's cracking up was getting the better of him, as well, and he had to stop playing. Meanwhile, Breht kept trying his best to ignore the corny, inane nonsense as he practiced magic tricks off to the side. He was failing.

  Eventually things calmed down. Jos'lie started yawning in earnest and bedtime routines began, but when Lyra got to Jos'lie's room, the girl was waiting with hairbrush and ribbons in hand. She was determined to try some braiding before calling it quits for the night.

  Dutifully, Lyra sat on the side of the bed and as Jos'lie started work on a strand, she began to whistle—at least she tried. Jos'lie soon discovered that whistling was one ability that would require a little more practice to perfect.

  The braiding session continued and good nights were spoken as J'Kor came to see them. “Papa,” Jos'lie told him during their hug, “I think I am going to give poor Ms. Naith'm a heart attack when I go back to school tomorrow and start reading for her.”

  Lyra heard the concern in his voice behind her as he said, “Princess, I think it would be best if you revealed your new abilities slowly, over time. I do no' want a stir over Mama Lyra.” Apparently Jos'lie looked confused because he explained, “You see, it is possible that if too many people found out what she can do, she might get taken away.”

  “How could she get taken away? She is part o' our family.”

  “Well … you remember Mama Lyra's bump on the back o' her neck?”

  “Uh, huh.”

  “That bump means she belongs to Caldreen. She gets to live here with us, but if the government wants to, er, move her to another home, it can.”

  Jos'lie thought on that a moment, “But Papa,” she said, brightening, “if you married Mama Lyra, then she would belong to you and no one could take her away!”

  “I would like to,” he answered, and the significance he attached to the words carved a laceration into Lyra's palpitating heart which somehow only sang stronger with the bleeding, “but I am no' allowed—no' to a khari'na. So, it would be best to make everyone believe she had nothing to do with your improvement. Do you understand?”

  “Aye, Papa.”

  “So, do you think you could hold back some o' your new smarts,” he gave a playful poke to her forehead, “for a week or so and pretend that you are just beginning to understand? … Like a natural growth spurt?”

  “Oh, aye! I can do that. I will make it into a game—just a little bit at a time.”

  “That is my good girl.” J'Kor gave his daughter a kiss. “I love you. Do no' stay up too late, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Jos'lie went back to braid number five and J'Kor turned to Lyra who was insanely trying to appear oblivious to the conversation that had just transpired behind her.

  “Good moonrise.”

  The message was simple, but his light touch of her jaw spoke much more, plunging Lyra into deep, tumultuous, agonizing, lovesick thought as he left.

  “Mama Lyra,” Jos'lie said, interrupting the divine torture, “where did you live before you came to us?”

  “I used to live in the northern mountains, Sweetness. You already knew that.”

  “Oh, did you already tell me?”

  Lyra answered wryly, “As a matter of fact, you told me. Don't you remember the first time we met?”

  Jos'lie paused. “I remember seeing you. And Grandmother was here, too—and Mr. Shapler.”

  “You said you had been dreaming about me.”

  “I did?”

  Oh dear. Could it be?

  “Jos', do you remember why you were going through my closet last night?”

  She shrugged. “I was just looking around.”

  “You don't remember talking about a … a book?”

  The braided lock got tied off at the end and Jos'lie picked up her comb to sort out the next section of Lyra's hair. “What book?”

  CHAPTER 21

  It was a fitful night's sleep. Lyra tossed and turned, unable to stop her mind racing through all the new possibilities of her life—especially the ones associated with the man in the other room. Did he really want to marry her? Was he that sincere? That sure? But more importantly, if it were possible, did she want to marry him?

  Lyra wondered what might have happened if they had met under normal circumstances. If she had been home—

  Ugh. She couldn't even imagine this Caldreen'n lord among her people. He was the enemy! A Stranger! If she were free and home, Lord J'Kor would never have been a consideration.

  But you are not home.

  She was living with and, out of necessity, sharing a bed with a good man of principle and honor, perhaps long-term, and this pretending she was just a live-in maid was failing miserably. It would only be a matter of time before she slipped up. She liked being with him too much. She loved—

  Lyra flopped over again, perturbed. Why was she even spending time worrying about whether or not she would marry him? It was impossible! Right?

  And you don't love him. Not like that.

  … Right?

  “Good morrow, Mama Lyra!” Jos'lie exclaimed the next morning, her head popping over an exhausted Lyra on the trundle below. One thing had certainly not changed. The girl was still pure sunshine.

  There was an extra excitement in getting the children ready to head back to school. J'Kor spent a few minutes speaking to both of them about the need for discretion regarding Jos'lie's change and what they might or might not say about their father's mistress. Breht and Jos'lie nodded obedient heads and went on their way.

  “How about you finish cleaning up breakfast, I get the morning chores done, and then we both sit down together for some further examination o' your 'dangerous weapon'?” J'Kor suggested to Lyra with that twinkle.

  His lopsided grin was far too sexy, but Lyra couldn't deny the idea's appeal. What could be more safe and wholesome than reading the scriptures together? Besides, she had made a bargain with him. And it was also the Sabbath.

  Forty-five minutes later, Lyra was in her closet removing the wrapped plates from their box, slightly surprised by the artifact's temperature in her hands.

  “Hmm, it's still warm,” she told J'Kor as she sat next to him waiting on the sofa. She curled her legs up underneath her and the Tohmu'vah went on her lap.

  “What?”

  J'Kor casually draped an arm across the sofa back behind her as Lyra lay her palm over the metal. “It's warm. When I put it away the other night, I noticed that the metal felt slightly warm to the touch. I figured it was the heat from that lamp you brought in.”

  J'Kor felt the book's cover himself. “The morning sun through the window must have been hitting the box,” he concluded.

  “I didn't think the sun was reaching where it was hidden.”

  With a dismissive shrug he let his arm fall across her shoulders. “Shall we start at the beginning?”

  For the next hour in the ambient morning light of his cozy living room, Lyra translated out loud to J'Kor the Believer's text. He heard about the creation of Geniven, and D'mahl and Aveyah—the first of God's children to be given bodies and placed on it. She read to him about their initial existence in a state of innocence, dwelling in a garden paradise until they encountered Satan—the fallen angel—and chose a life of knowledge and mortality together to allow more of God's children from the spirit world to come and partake of the Plan of Salvation, thereby launching God's ultimate design for the exaltation of mankind.

  There was also other doctrine describing necessary ordinances needed for salvation revealed to D'mahl and Aveyah and their subsequent posterit
y, and every once in a while Lyra would glance over, trying to decipher J'Kor's impression of it all. She mostly found him watching her intently, relaxed, at total ease, occasionally twiddling a lock of her hair that found its way between his fingers. This did not make concentrating on translating easier. At the end of another chapter of the first chronicle, Lyra finally asked if he had had enough yet.

  “Oh, are you getting tired?”

  “Well, I just thought you might be. You don't seem to be paying much attention.”

  “I am paying attention.”

  A wry grin tugged at Lyra's mouth. “I meant to what I'm reading. Not me.”

  “'It is no' good for man to be alone.' 'Therefore, thou shalt cleave to her and none else.' 'The man is no' without the woman, neither the woman without the man,'” he quoted, “Aye, I have been listening.” At Lyra's surprise, he chuckled and brought a wavy tress of hair to his face for a playful, felicitous sniff.

  “So what do you think of it?” she asked warily.

  “'Go forth and multiply?'” J'Kor grinned. “Honestly, I kind o' like what I have heard so far. It sounds like a love story.”

  Lyra had to laugh at the interesting interpretation. “I guess so, though I have never looked at it quite that way.”

  His twiddling stopped. “So how does it end for them?”

  “Well, they end up having many, many children, growing to a ripe old age until their mortal probation is finished, and their spirits return to Heaven—together forever.”

  The humor in his eyes turned thoughtful. “That sounds good to me.”

  Then, tucking the loose tendril behind her ear, and searching Lyra's expression carefully, slowly, he brought her head close for a tender kiss.

  Oh, blessed angels! This cannot happen!

  At the last second, Lyra took command of herself and dropped her head. “I'm sorry,” she whispered in regret, “that can't be on the list.”

  Her thudding heart petered out, dying in bottomless depths, while J'Kor watched her, curious.