thirty-eight #2
Maybe, if he went blind, he would no longer have to see the damage his soulmate had done to the universe.
“The last time I spoke to him was the first time he performed vashta. He wanted me to join him on his crusade to save the Void, but I refused. I don’t think he thought it was possible I could refuse him, but I have never agreed with his method. Your father is brash; your mother was too kind.
They were the perfect balance of one another. Yet without her around now… there is only brash. Your father abdicated because he knew what must be done, and none of the Premiers agreed with him. For good reason. Even High Priest Rimmen understood your father’s motives, but could not agree. Thus,
the schism. Your father knew he was powerful enough as a sorcerer to do what he thinks must be done.”
“But why Cerilyn? How do you know?”
“I’ve tracked his movements. This most recent planet was near Cerilyn. Knowing that he’s perfecting his method and honing in on his first sentient target… I don’t like it, Mira. The fact you’re there doesn’t mean anything to him. He’ll probably either warn you or get me to warn you. Well, here I am.
Warning you. Normally, I’d tell you to flee while I do what I can to prevent him from committing literal genocide, but maybe… there’s a reason you’re there, after all.”
“Maybe…”
“But if I were you, I’d get the hell out as soon as I could. Take whoever means most to you. Be careful.”
“Uncle Ram…” She stood directly in front of him, blocking the sunlight from his aging face. “You must come to Cerilyn with me. We will stop him. I’m sure of it.”
“Mira…”
“Ma pushed me into this world for a reason! I can’t believe it was pure convenience! Or because I had already found my soulmate here! Please!”
“I believe you, it’s just—”
“What?”
Ramaron pushed himself up. He was only a couple of inches taller than her, and she looked him right in the blue-gray eyes that her father had fallen for thousands of years ago.
Now he looks into my eyes. Mira had her mother’s eyes.
Did Ramaron see Joiya inside of her? Did he experience the ecstasy—the fear—of the Void through her?
“I need to speak with someone before I commit to anything,” he said. “Someone I trust to keep quiet about what crazy shit comes out of my mouth.”
“Do you mean Master Obello?” He was their mutual instructor at the Academy.
So while the man had been like a surrogate father to Ramaron, he had been a surrogate grandfather to Mira.
It was a bit strange having him as my advisor after he had just sent my parents into the real world.
Yet she never once felt amiss under his protection.
Because that was what Master Obello had offered a young and lost Mira Dunsman, in both lives.
But particularly in this one, where she was the mysterious miracle child of Joiya Lerenan, High Priestess of the Void.
“He’s wiser than I’ll ever be. If he thinks what you say is possible, I’ll listen.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Ramaron offered her a wan smile… the first one she had seen in a long while. “Be careful, Mira. If we really are chazah pawns in this world, then… well, I suppose my other self would say the same thing, wouldn’t he? We would very much like to live.”
“That’s what we’re trying to accomplish.” Mira didn’t know who she meant by we. Rahara? The High Priestess? Sulim, and all the other humans attached to her?
God, Sulim…
“I should go,” Mira suddenly said, already pivoting. “Someone’s waiting for me.”
His smile held. “It’s always nice when someone is waiting for you to come home.”
While she didn’t disagree, she was intrigued by the melancholy in his voice.
Sulim didn’t find Mira in the Temple that afternoon. Instead, she found two strangers unlocking the doors and making themselves at home.
“Uh, who are you?” The first thing she noticed was that one of them was a dead ringer for Mira.
Well, if Mira were a softer brand of feminine who floated over the floor with her lily-like steps.
Or who looked demurely over her shoulder whenever someone was around.
Or who dressed like she expected to be at a genial cocktail party at any moment. A priestess, she was not.
“Sulim…” The julah woman before her said that name with curiosity, as if she weren’t sure. “It must be you. Do you not remember me? I am Kema.”
“Ah… no. I don’t believe we’ve met before.” She must have been one of Mira’s relations, and Sulim would have remembered that. “Where’s Mira?”
“She had to step out for a moment.” When Kema realized that Sulim was looking at a pile of bags in the middle of a pew, she said, “We will be staying here for a while. Here in town, I mean. Do you recommend which inn is good? I think I only saw two, and one is much bigger…”
“Uh, yeah. Stay at the one across the street. It’s more expensive, but cleaner. And the owner’s wife is a Temple advocate, so if she knows you’re part of Mira’s world, they’ll make room for you.”
“Oh, excellent! Hannu!” Kema called to the other julah, who wore Temple whites unlike her companion. “Our instincts are right. We should stay across the street. Let’s take our bags over there after this.”
Hannu brushed her brown hair away from her face and caught sight of Sulim. The way she paled was a dour omen of what she did next.
“Sulim!” She flung herself at Sulim as if they were old, separated friends.
Yet it wasn’t relief in her body language as she prostrated herself at Sulim’s feet and grabbed her legs, something that caught the usually observant mercenary off guard.
“Thank the Void you are here! I thought this was a new, divine punishment from Her Holiness!”
Her voice was muffled against Sulim’s pantleg as she attempted to shake off the sorceress.
“But she is merciful! I still have a chance to right my wrongs! Oh!”
Hannu finally detached herself the moment Sulim was about to physically pull her off.
“Your clothes…” Hannu gasped. “You are a mercenary here!”
“I’m sorry, have we met?”
Kema curtly shook her head at Hannu. “She doesn’t remember you. Act normal.”
Yet Hannu, whoever she was, did not immediately comply with Kema’s authoritative request.
For when she spoke again, she was hardly normal.
Her eyes, wide and sparkling with reverent fear, were exactly what raised red flags when Sulim was on a mission and attempting to socially engineer the people around her to get the job done.
These types are either incredibly easy, or they do not budge, and I must abort.
She was one of the best in the Federation—even Federation soldiers had told her—but apparently she wasn’t that good.
“Ms. Sulim, I am Hannu Adelah.” That bow was quick and informal, as if Hannu wanted to keep both contracted pupils on Sulim’s figure.
God, please, don’t make me kill a julah in self-defense today.
Sulim did not wish to be the first in Second Tribe history to accomplish that.
“I am a priestess from the Temple, and a distant relation to Lady Mira through her grandmother, who is from my House.”
“And I am Kema Lerenan.” The other woman garnered Sulim’s attention, spiting Hannu. “A much closer relation to Lady Mira, since we share the same family. We were sent here by a… higher authority. To assist her with something.”
Both continued looking at Sulim as if she should know them, but it was only Kema who was willing to let it go. Hannu took her hand again, almost earning her a reflexive punch to the face, but Sulim held herself back. Hopefully, Hannu would notice the tension in her body.
Naturally, she did not. “It’s an honor to meet you, Ms. Sulim. Let me know if there is anything I can do for you.”
“Uh… you can let me go. You really shouldn’t go grabbing a mercenary without warning or permission. We are trained to use deadly force in self-defense.”
Hannu quickly released her, squeaking an apology before retreating to the other side of the room.
Sighing, Sulim looked at Kema. “Do you know when Mira will be back?”
“No, unfortunately. But I’m sure she will be happy to know that you called.”
“Oh?”
“Ah, forgive me.” Kema slightly blushed. “I am aware of your relationship.”