Second Don: Ardulum, Book 2 Page 20

  “The Keft never even mentioned them as deities,” Emn returned. A smile was playing at the corners of her mouth, which Atalant found both enticing and exasperating. Emn had endless fucking patience, it seemed. Had their roles been reversed, Atalant wasn’t certain she’d have been able to be so calm. “They just called them explorers. Traders.”

  Atalant nodded and, without meaning to, slid her hand to the inside of Emn’s knee. A grin threatened to break across Emn’s face, but instead of calling attention to it, Atalant left her hand there and continued speaking. “So Ardulum came. Traded our land and andal for technology that advanced our civilization. Two years go by, the andal starts to crash, and they leave. The Neek…maybe they don’t know what to do without someone prodding them. Someone in power gets an idea about how to keep things moving forward. History gets changed. The Ardulans become gods. Gods we could meet again, if we get our act together.”

  “Atalant,” Emn said slowly, enunciating each syllable. “Is this really what you want to talk about?”

  “No, of course not, but…well…” The once chilled room had become humid and overly warm, the sunlight now streaking through the window and hitting her black flight suit at least partly to blame. Atalant wanted to touch Emn, and be touched—her skin was on fire, but touching, kissing, or even something as simple as hugging seemed…abrupt. Not quite right somehow, like Atalant hadn’t earned that privilege just yet, however stupid that sounded.

  “I’m…I’m still working on this, the idea of us,” Atalant said. She moved her hand to the top of Emn’s thigh and pursed her lips. It’s not because of the markings, and it’s not because I don’t…have feelings for you. It’s more that, well, we’re on a planet that shouldn’t exist, and you’re sitting on my bed in a dress that—

  A loud, single knock came from the door.

  “Go away!” Atalant yelled.

  Another rap hit the door. “You said early morning, Neek. Atalant. Sorry. I went through the bother of getting up, only to find you not at breakfast. This is payback.”

  Emn sighed and put her hand on top of Atalant’s. “We did promise we wouldn’t be late. Maybe breakfast will give you some time to collect your thoughts?” She stood, smoothed her dress down, and offered Atalant a tight smile. “Maybe we could talk again, even if it’s about something mundane? I really enjoyed this time with you, Atalant. It doesn’t have to lead to something else.”

  “Yeah, but I want it to,” Atalant grumbled unintelligibly to herself as she got up from the bed and straightened her flight suit. She was upset with herself over the intimacy issue—she’d never had a problem with women before, or men, or any other gender, for that matter. This was just so, so—she didn’t know what. Dogmatic? That wasn’t the right word, but she couldn’t think of a better one. She clearly still had some mental hang-ups to get over if she really wanted a relationship with Emn.

  She stretched, the flight suit far too snug for her liking, which brought her mind to how much she missed the comfort of weaponry against her skin. She briefly mused on what knives she might be able to pick up from an Ardulan retailer, and what she could probably flip them for back on Neek if she didn’t grow too attached. The only weapon she’d managed to keep with her through the past several months was the funny knife she’d purchased from Chen—the one with the andal hilt and the curved tip. The one sitting, secure, just inside her boot and that she kept forgetting about but stubbornly refused to throw away. It wasn’t a very effective weapon, but it was better than none at all.

  “We’re dressed,” Atalant announced as she opened the door. Emn, looking much brighter in her gray dress, came up behind her. The image of Emn from moments before—her skirt riding up her legs, the intensity of her eyes—flashed across Atalant’s mind. She pushed the image away and tried to rein in her own thoughts.

  “All set,” Emn said. She looked from Nicholas to Atalant and smiled. She was getting as good at hiding emotions as Atalant was. “I suppose here of all places I shouldn’t have to worry about getting any andal to eat.”

  Nicholas nodded, looking anywhere but at the two women. “I saw steamed branches downstairs. Also—” He chanced a peek at Emn, but then turned away. “Kidding aside, do you two have this business figured out?”

  Emn’s smile faltered, but Atalant wasn’t about to let their small amount of progress go unnoticed. She slipped her hand into Emn’s, and the younger woman responded by smiling sweetly and leading Atalant out the door.

  Atalant shot an apologetic smile at Nicholas as she was pulled down the hall.

  “This is not what I signed up for,” Nicholas muttered as he trailed them down the stairs.

  ATALANT HAD TO shade her eyes from the morning sun that streaked through an open window as she sat down at a long wood slab table with the rest of the crew. It was still early, she reasoned, since there were only a few other patrons, and it seemed as if the bar could seat several dozen. A seasoned vegetable smell hung heavily in the air, which wasn’t entirely unpleasant, but did not kickstart her appetite.

  Disinterested in Nicholas’s oration about some Terran sports team, Atalant traced the summerwood lines on the table. A surprising number were discontinuous, which, judging from what she assumed of the traveling planet, seemed both logical and concerning. If the planet moving interrupted the growth of the andal, why would the Ardulans do it? Andal was fragile enough—it certainly didn’t need changing atmospheric conditions added to its list of triggers.

  “Welcome, travelers!” A short, rotund Ardulan arrived at their table. Atalant searched for any visible markings or gaps in their clothing to indicate where markings might be, but failed to find any. The server noticed her bobbing head, laughed, and then continued in Common.

  “Apologies, friend. I can see why you would be confused. My name is Kallum, and I’m first don. No Talent yet, but my parents, who own the bar, are both Hearths. I’ll probably go that direction too. I’m also gatoi. We have a tri-gender system here on Ardulum. Different from the quad systems found on most Alliance worlds.” Kallum opened zir arms wide and smiled. “Would you all like to try our standard Ardulan breakfast? It is very popular with tourists.”

  “Is it…wood?” Nicholas asked hesitantly.

  Kallum laughed again. “Yes, but young shoots. Digestible even by off-worlders. Trust me and try it. You’ll love it.”

  Emn, who was wedged at the far end of the bench behind Atalant, leaned forward so she would be heard. “Ardulans eat the young shoots often? Not the cooked branches?”

  Kallum put zir hands behind zir back. “Well now, that is an unusual question. It’s actually more of a regional preference…” zie trailed off, and Atalant watched zir eyes scan Emn, lingering on her uncovered arms littered with dark markings. “Sorry, but did you get discharged? Are you better?”

  It took Atalant far too long to realize what the server was talking about. Trying to act as smoothly as she could, she smiled. “Yes, she’s much better now. Thank you for asking, Kallum.” Atalant wrapped an arm around Emn and pulled her back behind herself, out of view of the server. “Times have been hard, of course, but that’s all behind us now. We are on vacation, but thought we should maybe hop to the local clinic, just for a checkup. Could you recommend one nearby?”

  Kallum perked up. “Actually, yes! There is a great one about two blocks away. My older sisters went flare, too, when they manifested. It was really hard on my parents, especially since we’re not allowed to talk about it. They’re at the local treatment center.” Zie leaned onto the table and tried to crane zir head around to see Emn. “You haven’t heard anything about them, have you? Their names are Ukie and Kallik.”

  Emn scooted forward again. “No, I’m sorry, but I haven’t.”

  Crestfallen, Kallum stood back up. “Well, it doesn’t hurt to ask. I don’t know how many flares there are. Guess too many for you to all know each other.”

  Atalant raised both hands. “Sorry, it’s been a long time since we were last here. Refresh my
memory on what causes someone to flare?”

  “Don’t know. I don’t know if anyone does. Just happens sometimes. You go to see the Eld a few days after your metamorphosis. You get some synthetic mucus smeared on your forehead. You’re supposed to get just one Talent, but sometimes…sometimes things go wrong.” Zie lowered zir voice. “I’m scared about my metamorphosis. If it’s genetic…maybe I’ll end up with a bunch of Talents, too. It’d be really hard on my parents.”

  Nicholas reached over and patted Kallum on the shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. Besides, she’s okay, right?” He gestured at Emn, who waved.

  Kallum nodded. “You’re right, of course.” Enthusiasm came back into zir voice. “So, three Ardulan specials then?”

  “Uh, sure,” Atalant said. She had no desire to eat wood, but doubted ordering bacon would be well received. “Add something to drink, too. Whatever you recommend is fine.”

  Kallum nodded. “Will you be taking the afternoon tour as well? It’s the last one before the move. It’s your best bet to see the palace. We have another one that runs to our main historic site, too. It’s an old fishing village not far from here, a town called Thannon. They partially overlap, unfortunately, so you’ll have to pick one or the other.”

  “How would one go about booking it?” Nicholas asked. “We’re short on funds, so price matters.”

  Kallum brightened. “Well, the palace tour is free, per the dictate of the Eld. The historic site isn’t too pricey—fourteen andal chits a head, two sapphires, or one diamond round. All galactic currencies are accepted. You can book with the tourist headquarters—their kiosk is just up the road from here. Should be open now.”

  Atalant held up a hand. “Wait, can we backtrack a minute. How exactly does Ardulum move?”

  Kallum looked up at the ceiling and furrowed zir brow. “Don’t know, really. That’s Eld stuff. The planet travels on its own, but it’s the Eld who steer the ship, if you follow. But that business is theirs, not mine.” Zie looked back at Atalant, and zir eyebrows shot up. “Oh! You could ask during the palace tour! That’d be a good question!”

  “Thank you very much. We’ll discuss it.” Nicholas started to salute, paused, and then waved instead. The server left, chuckling to zirself as zie went. “Any interest?” Nicholas asked, turning to Emn. “Your choice.”

  Atalant felt Emn’s emotions flicker. She tried to chase the feeling, but Emn tucked it away as quickly as it arose. “Emn?” she asked. “You all right?”

  Emn stood from the bench, straightened her dress, and then sat back down, tucking one leg underneath herself as she did so. “I’m going to the village,” she said. Her voice was low, shadowy, and sent an odd shiver down Atalant’s spine. “I also—” She paused and looked pointedly at Atalant, her expression softening. “I want to go alone.”

  Atalant smacked her palm into the table. “That is not safe!” she exclaimed, alarmed. Also, completely unreasonable. You expect me to just play tourist while you wander?!

  “Atalant.” Nicholas’s voice was grating.

  Her first reaction was to yell at the Journey youth, but she held back. Instead, she grumbled and tried to settle her emotions. “It isn’t a good idea,” she muttered.

  “Not our decision,” Nicholas cautioned. “We can take the palace tour and all compare notes this evening. Wouldn’t that work?”

  “No,” Atalant retorted. “Think about the reactions we’ve been getting. Separation is a terrible idea.” She nudged the periphery of Emn’s mind, trying to make her concerns clear. “At least let me come with you.”

  “Atalant, I don’t need a chaperone.” The response was warm but curt.

  When no mental clarification followed, Atalant scowled and turned to Nicholas. “A little backup here?”

  Nicholas sniffed and reached out to grab the long, narrow dish of steaming andal shoots offered to him by Kallum, who had walked up with a tray. The other dishes were passed around, including wooden mugs of something cool and sweet-smelling and a round, segmented dish of colored powders Atalant assumed were seasonings. When a stack of wooden discs was placed in front of her, she took one, grabbed a handful of hot twigs and the spice dish, stood, and brought the ensemble over to the corner of the table.

  Atalant knelt down next to Emn and set the dishes down in front of her. “Could we please discuss this?” she asked, her voice low. Emn popped three shoot ends into her mouth, chewed quickly, and swallowed.

  You could have asked to come, instead of demanding it, Emn returned.

  Says the woman who cornered me in a cockpit, Atalant shot back. What’s this about?

  Atalant felt Emn’s hesitation as the young woman munched on a shoot. Trying to be patient, Atalant took an exploratory sip from a cup and grimaced at the syrupy sweetness of the beverage. She placed the cup back down and scooted it as far away as her reach would allow.

  I spoke to a flare from there, Emn responded finally. I want to meet him, but… She grew quiet, her eyes scanning Atalant’s face. She pursed her lips and sighed.

  “Yeah, I get it,” she mumbled. Atalant got to one knee and clasped Emn’s hand before standing and moving back to her own seat. “Guess I’m taking the palace tour too,” she said loudly as she reached for the main dish of andal. “Someone pass the seasoning.”

  Chapter 21: Thannon, Ardulum

  The Neek asked the Ardulan child, “What is Ardulum?”

  The child responded by pointing at a small tree. “Ardulum is of the andal. Without it, we cannot live. Without it, we would not want to live. Without it, we would not know how to live.”

  —Excerpt from The Book of the Uplifting, original version

  “…ROOT SYSTEM. NOTE the wide canopy and ample liana colonization, even over the buttress formation. Here, the sentinels have been trimmed back, but you can tell the age even without them.” The tour guide, a tall woman early into her third don, gestured to the towering andal tree growing directly from the center of the village square in Thannon.

  Emn nudged her way to the front of the crowd, keeping the sleeves of the flight suit she’d swapped with Atalant down over her hands. Her hair was loose and cascaded over her face, hiding, she hoped, most of her markings. Emn had suggested they swap the passport films, too, but Atalant had been firmly against it under some misguided heroic notion that if someone were to come for Emn, Atalant would be better prepared to defend herself. Emn hadn’t bothered to argue.

  A throaty sound wisped across her mind.

  Hello? she asked. Guessing at its source, she added, I speak Common.

  There was a momentary pause, and then a distinctly male voice addressed her. Touch it. That old tree is sacred. It’s said the roots of that one run to all four spires of the Eld Palace.

  No one will get mad? she asked.

  Nope. We cherish our andal. Funny, because we clearly don’t cherish all Ardulans.

  Unable to resist, Emn ran her fingertips over the curly bark of the ancient andal, reveling in the texture. The bark unfurled with the pressure and then sprang back into place when she pulled her fingers away, resulting in a soft, wispy sound.

  Hello.

  Who…had that been the tree? Emn blinked several times, but then shook her head at the crazy notion of talking trees.

  Not so crazy, the voice said. The andal speaks to the Eld. Perhaps one day, it will speak to us, too.

  Emn tried to imagine what a tree might say, and if it would converse in words or in images, like the Risalian Ardulans. Do you really think the andal would speak to those the Eld shun? she asked, curious. Especially if the Eld are the mouthpieces of the andal?

  A sort of mental shrug went through Emn’s mind. Even if it doesn’t, we can speak to each other. Our telepathy is a lot stronger than a standard Ardulan’s. The flares will always have that.

  Emn was surprised at the sudden warmth that brought to her chest. Telepathy was something even the Risalians had not managed to take away.

  Are you going to meet us? This time, the v
oice was feminine.

  I’d like to very much, Emn responded. It was hard to keep the excitement from her own voice. Where are you?

  The female responded. There is a small gazebo in a forested ravine north of town. We left a path that only you should be able to see. An image filled Emn’s mind of a stream of glittering cellulose that led into an old-growth andal forest. It is a fifteen-minute walk from where you are now. The tours are highly regimented. It won’t leave for three and one quarter hours more. Slip away, and we promise to have you back in time to return.

  Emn realized she was still touching the tree. She hastily shoved her hands back in her pockets. If she was radiating nervousness, none of the other tourists seemed to be aware of it. The two quadrupeds next to her barely glanced in her direction as they edged past, following the guide towards the pier. She was more excited to meet the flares than she had been to land on Ardulum, and although it would’ve been nice to have company, forcing Nicholas, or even Atalant, to sit through several hours of…whatever she was about to do seemed unnecessary.

  I’ll be there soon.

  Weaving back through the crowd, Emn looked to the sky to get her bearings and then began to head north through narrow footpaths. Short, cylindrical houses with andal bark thatched roofs sat in haphazard rows, a beaten dirt path winding between them. It was still midmorning, but the tour guide had told them that the fishers had left much earlier and wouldn’t be back until dusk. That left the streets empty and quiet save for a few older Ardulans tending to small gardens.

  Another few minutes of walking brought her to the north side of town. The buildings cut off quickly, the houses built directly up to the edge of the ravine precipice. Emn jogged to the edge and peered down, hoping to find a cut staircase or some other means of descending. When none was readily apparent, she began to pick her way along the ledge, scanning for anything that would get her to her destination.