Schism: Part One of Triad (Saga of the Skolian Empire) Page 4

  Shannon sat in a trance. He felt the minds of his siblings and parents questing for him, puzzled by his absence. Several times someone came into the stable seeking him, his scholarly brother Denric once, his mother later, then Vyrl’s wife Lily. He didn’t answer when they called and they didn’t intrude, though they knew he sat in Moonglaze’s stall. Eventually they returned to the house.

  Moods swirled throughout the night, the joy of his parents in Althor’s visit and the excitement of his family. Other moods stirred below the surface like eel-streamers in a lake. Tension, uncertainty, sadness. A sudden spike of shock from Althor. Shannon absorbed it all like a sponge soaking in water. He just took it all in. The causes would become clear later, or not.

  So he sat.

  Finally he sensed what he had waited for the entire day. Althor was alone. Shannon could tell by the change in his brother’s mood.

  He left the stable then.

  Soz paced through the outskirts of Dalvador, following a cobbled alley that meandered behind a row of shops with all sorts of goods: glasswood place settings, furniture, and tools; delicacies sold by merchants who traveled to Dalvador from Rillia across the mountains; finely worked metal goods from the blacksmith; glitter to grow bubble crops. To her right, the fields of her father’s farm spread out under the night sky, the reeds heavy with bagger bubbles. The crescent of the Blue Moon hung above the horizon and the gibbous Lavender Moon shone higher in the sky.

  Tahota had shaken the foundations of her life. Surely Soz could make her parents understand. She just needed to present it right, in a manner that would convince them she couldn’t pass up such an incredible opportunity. Realistically, they would be upset no matter how great she considered this news. But if she talked to them enough, stayed calm and enthusiastic, surely she could soften their resistance. Her mother would be easier, so Soz would approach her first. If Roca came around, she might ease her husband’s opposition.

  “I thought you were a ghost,” a voice said. “A ghost haunting Merchant’s Lane.”

  Soz whirled around, her back to the wall of a bedding shop behind her. A youth stood lounging against a glasswood pole that held up the roof of a bubble-sculptor’s shop. The moonlight made his eyes look black and silvered his burgundy hair. He smiled, slow and languorous. “You going to knock me over and carry me off, Soz?”

  Soz put her fists on her hips. “Not a chance.”

  “Too bad. It might be fun.”

  “What are you doing, sneaking up on me, Ariquil?” She deliberately used his full name instead of Ari, the nickname she had called him when they went swimming in Blue Potter’s Lake a few octets ago.

  He ambled over to her. “How come you’re wandering down here?”

  Soz crossed her arms. She had liked him last year, then she hadn’t, and then she had again. By the time she had untangled her confusion, he had gone off with some other girl. Soz hadn’t known whether to be angry at him or at herself.

  “I asked my question first,” she said.

  “I was bored. I went for a walk.” His voice had deepened recently, with that vibrato that adult men among the Lyshrioli possessed. He was taller now, his eyes level with hers. He touched a lock of her hair where it curled on her shoulder. “You look good, Soshoni.”

  She pulled her hair away from him. “Don’t call me Soshoni.” She should have never told him the affectionate nickname her parents had given her. “And where’s your girlfriend?”

  He was all innocence. “What girlfriend?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe that girl you were all over a few octets ago.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t see her anymore.”

  “Why not?”

  “She’s not you.” He hinged his hand around her cheek, cupping her face. “Remember that time we went swimming and lay on the shore afterward?”

  Soz remembered every detail. He had kissed her that day, which had scared her off, only for a few days, but he had grown tired of waiting. Or maybe he just didn’t believe in fidelity.

  She nudged away his hand. “I’m trying to forget.”

  “Why?” He smirked. “You’re jealous.”

  “Go away, Ari.”

  “You want me to stay.”

  She glared. “Not a chance.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “Pah.”

  “You love me, Soz.” Laughing, he grabbed her hand and pulled her toward him. “Come on, Soshoni.”

  Caught by surprise, Soz reacted on instinct, as she would do when training in the hand-to-hand combat she wasn’t supposed to learn, but that she had practiced for years with her brothers. She yanked him forward, rolled him over her body, and swung him down on a pile of pillow-sacks stacked by the wall. He landed with a thud, his breath going out in a whoosh.

  With an explosion of breath, Ari sat up. “What the hammer-hell was that for?”

  Soz’s face flamed as she dropped next to him. By Rillia’s Arrow, she hadn’t meant to do that. It had been a reflex, prodded by her tension today and her anger over that other girl. “I’m sorry, Ari. You surprised me.”

  He scowled at her. “You know, Soz, your approach with men leaves a lot to be desired.”

  Maybe that was true, but she was still mad at him. “You approached me.”

  “At peril of my life.”

  She glowered. “But of course it was all right for you to run off with whatever her name was after you kissed me.”

  He rubbed his side where he had hit the sacks. “You disappeared. I thought you were trying to get rid of me.”

  “No I wasn’t.” Her face heated as they stood up together. “I was confused.”

  He smiled ruefully. “I thought you were going to slap me silly that day I kissed you.”

  His kiss had inspired far different thoughts. Embarrassing thoughts. To cover her flush, she said, “If I recall, we were having an argument about who could swim faster.” For good measure, she glared at him.

  “You’ve never seen yourself mad.” His lashes lowered halfway over his eyes, sensually sleepy. “It makes you look like a goddess on fire.”

  She wished he would quit looking at her like that. He made it hard to think straight. “Listen, Ari, I can’t—I mean, it’s not that I don’t want to be with you. But I may be going away soon.”

  His expression cooled. “Right.”

  Soz knew she was bumbling this. If she hadn’t been so uncertain about the rest of her life, she would have liked to go back with him to Blue Potter’s Lake. They could swim in the secluded hollows formed by blue glasswood trunks in the water and lie together where no one would find them. Then they could explore this kissing business more.

  She had to explain, make it clear she hadn’t meant to reject him. Conversations about emotions had never been her strong point, though. She didn’t have the words. She couldn’t tell Ari about going to the academy yet, not when she hadn’t told her parents. It wouldn’t be right to let him know first, besides which, he had never been any good at keeping secrets.

  Instead of trying to talk, she took his hand. He regarded her warily, but he didn’t pull away. She tugged him until they were nose to nose. Then she kissed him, once, uncertain and awkward.

  “Ah, Soz.” He put his arms around her waist and pulled her forward. “That knocks me out, too.” Then he kissed her more deeply, making tingles start in her stomach.

  “See,” he murmured against her lips. “It’s not so bad.”

  Their first kiss had been nice, but these second and third ones were even better. “Not bad at all.”

  He kissed her again. “We could go swimming.”

  Soz wanted to say yes, but she couldn’t. Besides, if her father caught her swimming at night with a boy, he would throw Ari in the dungeon and lock Soz up in her room for fifty years. Not that the castle had a real dungeon anymore, just storerooms underground, but she had no doubt the Dalvador Bard would make one in honor of any boy who snuck off with his daughter to Blue Potter’s Lake.

  “I c
an’t, Ari. Not tonight. I have to talk to my parents.”

  “You can talk to your parents anytime.”

  “It’s important.”

  His face stiffened and he let her go. “Sure, Soz. Fine. Go talk to your parents.”

  “Ari, don’t.”

  “Go on. Go away.”

  “This is important.”

  He shrugged and made a show of not looking at her.

  Soz regarded him with exasperation. He always acted like this when he didn’t get his way. It reminded her of why she had been uncertain about their friendship. “You really want me to go away?”

  “You’re the one who said you had to go.”

  “Let’s not argue.”

  Finally he looked at her. “I think you should go away. I can’t take all this, ‘I don’t know what I want’ from you.”

  “You know, a little patience never hurt anyone.”

  “Go on. Go home.”

  “Fine. I’ll go home.” She stayed put, though.

  “Aren’t you going?” He hadn’t moved either.

  “Ari—”

  “Yes?”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He regarded her warily. “You want?”

  “Yes. I do.” Tomorrow, after she had told her parents, she could explain more. Maybe she and Ari weren’t all that compatible, but he was the first boy who had ever kissed her and she had known him for years. That counted for a lot.

  He grinned, wicked now instead of sulking. “I’ll be around.”

  “Me, too.” She could think of nothing clever to say, so she just added, “I better go.”

  “Sure.” He touched her cheek, and his finger lingered. “See you.” Then he sauntered off as if nothing ever bothered him. Part of that was a cover, she knew, so she wouldn’t see how he felt. But she had known him long enough to realize he really did see life in those terms. You worked in the fields in the day, spent time with friends in the evening, had fun, and avoided anything that made you worry.

  Soz wished her life were that simple.

  It was dark in the entrance foyer to Althor’s suite. Shannon walked through shadows up to the gold glasswood door. He laid his palm against its surface and closed his eyes while he searched for his brother. Althor’s mind glowed like a star. And he was alone. Reassured, Shannon opened the door.

  Althor was standing with his back to the door, pulling off one of his boots. He dropped it on the ground, then sat on the bed and tugged at the other boot. Shannon watched, uncertain. For so long he and Althor had shared kinship, so close in their youth. Althor had been a hero to him, the older brother he idolized. He had let his mind blend with his brother and never realized it. But in the days before his brother left home, Althor had become distant, withdrawing as he focused on the upcoming changes in his life. It had bewildered Shannon, who could never imagine leaving this world.

  Then Althor had gone away.

  Shannon had been three years younger when Althor rejected them. Yes, he had known his brother was going to school, not discarding his family. But Shannon had felt ripped in two as if he had lost half of himself.

  “Can I come in?” Shannon asked.

  Althor jerked, looking up. Seeing Shannon, he inhaled sharply as recognition flooded his mind. Astonishment. Joy. The emotions burst from him, overwhelming in their intensity.

  “Chad?” Althor stood up, a brilliant smile on his face. “Good gods, Chad, how did you—”

  Then he stopped, his surge of pleasure fading into confusion and no sign of recognition at all.

  Suddenly a different smile warmed Althor’s face, this one relaxed and familiar. “Shani, is that you?”

  Relief washed through Shannon. He came inside and closed the door. “Didn’t you recognize me?” He heard how musical his voice sounded next to Althor’s rumble. He was a tenor: Althor was a bass. Shannon knew many people wondered if he felt lacking next to his powerful brothers. With Althor, the opposite was true. Shannon felt safe with him. Protected.

  “You’ve grown,” Althor said. “A lot.”

  “Some.” Shannon went over to him. Althor had to be more than a head taller and at least twice his weight. “You have, too.”

  Althor grimaced good-naturedly. “Sometimes I feel my legs getting longer at night.” He hesitated. “Shani, I’m not sure you should be here.”

  Of all the responses Shannon had thought possible, this was the one he had feared. He understood; Althor was angry because Shannon had never answered his letters, either by holo or the web. “It never bothered you before.”

  “Father is troubled because you didn’t come to dinner. You should go talk to him.”

  “Do you hate me now?”

  “Good gods, no.” Althor seemed bewildered. “Why would you say such a thing?”

  “I should have written you.”

  His brother’s posture eased, though he still seemed as tight as a wire. “It’s all right. I know reading and writing don’t come easily for you. Mother and Father keep me in touch.”

  Shannon didn’t know what to make of that. Did Althor really believe him illiterate or only offer it as an excuse? Although some of their siblings struggled to write, it had never bothered Shannon. Althor knew that. And he felt his brother’s strain now. Something had jolted Althor when Shannon first entered the room.

  It was his fault. After Althor had left home, Shannon had grieved. He couldn’t accept that his brother wanted to go. Wrestling with that rejection, he had estranged himself from Althor while he came to terms with the knowledge that the brother he loved didn’t want to stay, that for some inexplicable reason Althor wanted to fly Jag fighters. Shannon would never understand but he didn’t want to be estranged anymore. If Althor hated him, better to find out now than to agonize for three more years. Or longer. Since he never intended to leave Lyshriol, he would rarely see Althor. He intended to stay here, tonight, until he put right the strain between them or Althor convinced him it was impossible.

  He sat on the bed. “What did I do to make you angry?”

  “Angry?” Althor looked down at him. “What do you mean?”

  “You left Lyshriol.” He wished Althor didn’t tower over him so much.

  Althor sat on the bed, bringing his eyes closer to Shannon’s level. “Is that why you didn’t write? You thought I was angry?”

  “Weren’t you?”

  “Only that you didn’t write.”

  Shannon tried to read his mood, but Althor was shielding his mind. “When I first came in here tonight, you were different.”

  Althor answered awkwardly. “You looked like someone I know. It startled me. That’s all. You’ve changed. Grown up.”

  Shannon remembered his brother’s surge of recognition. Althor had responded to him in a way Shannon had never known, even imagined. He didn’t mind that Althor had thought he was someone else. It intrigued him. He wanted to explore it, understand this new reaction, swirl it into the sea of his emotions.

  He touched Althor’s cheek. “Yes. I have grown up.”

  Althor gently pushed his hand away from his face. “Don’t.”

  “Why?”

  “Shani, I’m an empath. I feel what you want.”

  Wryly he said, “Then perhaps you will tell me.” He wasn’t certain himself.

  Althor thought for a moment. “Maybe it has to do with the Blue Dale Archers. You are so much like them, and they are so unlike other humans.” He spoke as if he were still working it through. “I wish I knew more about that part of our heredity. I think you have no barriers in your emotional responses to people.”

  Shannon wasn’t certain what he meant. When you loved someone, you loved them in all ways. It permeated your life. If you hated them, you cut them out of your life. “Why would I want barriers?”

  “Most humans make them between different types of loving.”

  Shannon set his hand on Althor’s arm, feeling the muscles beneath his black pullover. “Tell me about Chad.”

  “Shani,
don’t.” Strain crackled in Althor’s voice. He pulled his arm away.

  Shannon felt cold. Bereft. “You act as if I am your enemy.”

  “You don’t understand—”

  “I can’t, not here, not in Dalvador.” Shannon struggled to express what he barely knew himself. “It is about loving, somehow, but I never understand. It blends into confusion. I think only of Blue Dale girls, silver and ethereal, but here all the girls are—too much. I don’t know if I will ever find someone like me.” Loneliness poured into him, but it filled nothing. “I feel empty.”

  “Do you mean empty with girls?”

  “I wouldn’t feel safe with the daughter of a farmer.”

  Althor spoke carefully. “Tell me something. How many children would you like to have?”

  “Children?” The question perplexed Shannon. “I don’t know. It will depend on my wife.”

  “In Dalvador, most boys your age have begun to consider marriage and a family.”

  “Girls here aren’t like me.” Althor was searching for an answer, but Shannon couldn’t figure out the question and Althor was guarding his mind too well. It didn’t bother Shannon. Emotions were better absorbed than studied. It would become clear in time. “Someday I will search for the Blue Dales and find a wife there.”

  Althor rubbed the back of his neck. “Then the reason you hesitate is because you haven’t met a girl you like.”

  “Yes.” Shannon waited.

  “You seem lonely,” Althor said.

  “I probably repulse Dalvador girls.” He couldn’t keep the hurt out of his words.

  “Shani, no.” Althor touched Shannon’s hair as if he were brushing a treasure. “You are incredibly beautiful.”

  Shannon exhaled, then moved closer and put his arms around Althor’s waist. When Althor hugged him back, he felt as he had in Moonglaze’s stall, content to absorb affection. It permeated his empath’s mind. Remorse filled him at his coldness these past years. His brother had rejected Lyshriol, but not him, Shannon, after all.