Fourteen #4
“We look for signs of his coming,” the third jair’oa said. “In the skies, in the sand, in the desert around us, we watch,
and wait. We remember what the creator king told our ancestors—to look for hints of his return. Until recently, there has
been nothing. No signs. Until you.”
“Strangers from across the desert,” said the white jair’oa, jumping into the conversation once more. “Human creatures that
have not walked these sands in many cycles. Hunted by a creature from the days of the old kings, risen to stalk the dunes
once more. And a word, a word whispered in the fevered star grub dreams that show us the future—Fateless.”
A chill slid up my back as those blank red eyes turned on me. “We do not understand this word,” the old jair’oa whispered.
“We know only that you are a sign. You, and the undead soul that hunts you. The great Winged Ones vanished when the kingdoms
fell, and only the creator kings have the power to bring them back to life. Does this mean the creator kings are coming back?
Has one already made his return to the world?”
There was so much veiled hope in her voice that my stomach knotted uncontrollably. “One has come back,” I whispered, making
all three jair’oa sit up sharply. “But not through any natural means. He was raised through the dark ritual of the ma’jhet
and is starting his conquest of the other kingdoms.”
“Ma’jhet.” The white jair’oa wrinkled her nose. “We know this word. They were human creatures that lived in the days of the creator king. They died with the rest of the humans when the city fell.”
“Your king’s ma’jhet might’ve perished,” Raithe broke in, “but not all of them did. One group survived, and now they’ve raised
their Deathless to life again. If this king catches the Fateless, he will rain destruction down upon all the kingdoms, including
yours, and no one will be able to stop him.”
“But a creator king has returned.” One of the gray jair’oa raised his paws into the air. “Praise to the creator king! Soon
the promise will be fulfilled, and all will be as it was before.”
“No,” I whispered, causing the three of them to blink at me. “If this Deathless comes here, if he finds this place, all that
will happen is that you’ll either be enslaved or killed.”
They blinked at me as if I was the one who didn’t understand. “I’m sorry,” I went on, shaking my head. “I’m not a sign that your creator king is coming
back. That abomination outside was sent by the Deathless King to find me. If it catches up, it won’t spare any of you. That’s
why I have to leave—as long as I’m here, your entire colony is in danger.”
For several heartbeats, the jair’oa were silent. Finally, the white jair’oa raised her chin. “Why have you come to our desert,
Fateless?” she wondered. “No one walks these sands without cause. What are you searching for?”
I swallowed, looking at Raithe. He nodded solemnly, and I turned back to the jair’oa.
“We’re traveling to the World Scar,” I told the Rememberers.
“It was there that a piece of Maederyss’s loom fell to the earth.
If I can reach it, if I can claim it, I might stand a chance against the Deathless King. ”
“You search for the loom of the goddess of Fate.” The white jair’oa blinked. For a few heartbeats, she and the other two jair’oa
looked at each other and chittered softly. I waited, stomach turning uneasily, until the two gray jair’oa drew back. The white
Rememberer stood on her hind legs and regarded me in a solemn manner.
“We will help you, human Fateless,” she went on, startling me. “The World Scar is very far from here, at the farthest reaches
of the desert. You will not be able to walk there, but we can use our magic to send you closer to your destination.”
“You’ll help us?” I whispered, sensing Raithe’s and Halek’s surprise as well. “Why?”
“We remember the king’s promise,” the white jair’oa said, as if emphasizing the only important thing. “We wait for him, but
we know that if another Deathless rises to power, our creator king’s return will be in danger. By helping, we will be removing
the one who could challenge our king when he comes back. We ask only that, once you claim the goddess’s loom, you remember
the jair’oa when you face the Deathless.”
“I will,” I said, amazement and surprise still clawing at me. “But you don’t have to do this. We can leave, and the abomination
will follow. If you help us now, your nest could be in danger.”
“It is already decided,” the white jair’oa countered. “The ritual to send the human Fateless and her companions across the
desert will take place on Star Grub Island, the place where the king sank his soul into the waters of the lake.”
“It will take time to prepare the ritual,” one of the gray jair’oa said.
“We will need to consume many star grubs to gather the magic to blink so many across such a long distance. Be patient while we prepare.” He glanced at Meeka, sitting forgotten on the stones nearby, and twitched his whiskers.
“Youngling,” he snapped, and Meeka looked up, large black eyes blinking.
The gray jair’oa waved a paw at us. “The Fateless will need a place to stay and rest. Will you be able to house the human creatures until it is time for the ritual?”
The jair’oa looked at me, cocking his head. “Meeka’s home is small,” he said dubiously. “And Meeka has many siblings. But
humans are welcome to stay there if they wish.” He shrugged, a strangely human gesture, and wrinkled his nose. “Siblings will
be bothersome, though. Ask many questions.”
“Good.” The white jair’oa nodded, leaning heavily on her crystal staff. “Go with the youngling, Fateless,” she said, looking
up at me, “and do not worry. We will call for you when it is time.”
Meeka hopped up to us, looking resigned. “This way, human creatures,” he said. “Follow Meeka.”
We trailed the jair’oa back through the temple and met Kysa and the rock beetles outside, then followed Meeka between the
eccentric buildings to a small hut on a corner. Through the curtained doorway, the interior was small and cluttered, with
a bed covered in rags, a strangely chewed sofa, and what looked like a workbench against the wall. Bits of metal, wood, and
strange components were scattered across the surface, a rickety stool sitting before it. I wondered if this was Meeka’s bench,
and what the jair’oa worked on beneath the sands of the desert.
“Brother! Brother is home!”
Tiny voices filled the hut, as nearly a dozen jair’oa scurried out of the shadows and between the clutter to swarm around
us. Many of them were half the size of Meeka or smaller, ears and tails twitching as they hopped and chittered and scampered
at our feet, peering up at us with shiny black eyes. Little paws tugged at my sleeves, and small, furry bodies scurried around
my boots, a couple even springing up to land on my shoulders or cling to my belt. I plucked one jair’oa kit off my neck and
held it before my face, and the tiny sand-colored creature pricked enormous ears and cocked its head at me, bright gaze completely
without fear.
Meeka leaped onto one of the bedposts to avoid the swarm of jair’oa kits, giving them the exasperated look of a tired older
brother. “Human creatures can stay here, if they want,” he said, raising his voice to be heard over the constant squeaking.
“Can sleep on bed.” He swung his tail out of the grasping paws of a jair’oa kit that leaped for it, taking the tuft and the
lantern still attached to it out of reach. “If can sleep.” He actually rolled his eyes, before shaking himself and looking at us. “Ritual happen soon. Should rest now.”
I glanced at Halek, who was sitting on the floor, grinning, as jair’oa kits scrambled all over him, then at Raithe. The kahjai
had a striped jair’oa perched on his arm, tugging at his gloves; he met my gaze with a wry smile and nodded.
“We should be safe here for a while, Sparrow,” he said, as the jair’oa continued to paw at him. “Why don’t you try to sleep?
You haven’t gotten a lot since Damassi.”
“Yes,” Kysa agreed. The insect rider was still standing in the doorway, her expression caught between amusement and patient stoicism as she watched the squirming kits.
“That is a good idea. I, however, believe I will wait outside. I don’t want the rock beetles accidentally smashing houses because of unwanted passengers. ”
A yelp came from Halek, as one of the jair’oa kits suddenly leaped away from him, clutching something round and shiny in its
paws. “Hey!” he called, as the rest of the kits gave excited chitters and scampered after the thief. “That was my last glowstone—ah,
forget it.” He grinned and leaned back, giving me a resigned look. “It seems that my fate is to be surrounded by thieves,”
he said. “If I ever make it back to troblin lands, remind me to grab a few dozen glowstones. I could get rich from how much
everyone seems to want them.”