Chapter 10
Comfort from Home
The lesson of the day was droll. Instructor Garcien had made us memorize all the various parts of an Arc, and all the different names that could be used for them.
She’d tested us on our short term recall, making us move to different doors of the outpost based on its shared shape with an Arc.
I’d discovered that the glowing moss did in fact jitter when I’d bumped too closely into a wall.
It was a fun exercise, but I’d successfully chosen the wrong area every time. I needed more practice.
I snuck back to the barracks before lunch to check for missives from my family.
As soon as I opened the drawer of my nightstand, the telltale glow around the edges of my mirror’s runes revealed that someone had tried to contact me.
Additional intricate runes carved along its edges knitted themselves together into a handle.
Communicating by missive mirror was a luxury we hadn’t been permitted in the Reformatory.
I picked the mirror up, tapping the gleaming surface twice to activate it.
“Hey. Happy belated birthday, bitch.” Nessa’s face appeared on the silvered surface, face plastered with bits of dirt, evidence of her Cultivation work.
“Way to keep in touch. ‘Grats on making the cut, by the way. What?” She turned, calling over her shoulder to someone I couldn’t see.
“I’m leaving her a message right now!” she turned back to face the mirror.
“Mama says don’t forget to stay hydrated,” she rolled her eyes.
“But enough about that. We want to hear everything! What’s it like being in Voyager training?
What do they have you doing for training?
Don’t leave anything out, I need to pass all the details to Darric so he’s prepared when he enters next year.
But don’t tell me any state secrets,” she added as an afterthought.
“Just the important bits. Like how to sneak in and out of the outpost.”
She’s wrapped around his finger.
“Mama wants to know if they’re feeding you properly.
You’ll be happy to hear she’s still fighting with Papa about the whole Jessarian thing.
Great job tearing the family apart.” Now it was my turn to roll my eyes.
Mama and Papa fought all the time. It was hardly news, and certainly not my fault.
“I’ll keep reminding them that your heart belongs to you and no one else.
” She let out a wistful noise. “Don’t you forget it either. ”
Warmth slipped out in a smile.
“Hmm, what else? In other news, I learned a cheery new tune on my lyre. You’ll like it. I’ll play it for you the next time we’re together.”
Nessa’s lyre was a beat-up hand me down from our grandfather, more splinters than instrument at this point. It was permanently out of tune with scratches tracked onto its neck like battle wounds. Nessa adored it, and played it any chance she got.
“Work has been rough lately. The Ascendancy has got us planting nearly three times as much food as last year. Not sure why, it’s not like the population is going to change anytime, ever.
” Bitterness sharpened her voice. “No diseases or infestations in the yield so far though, which is great but it’s still early.
Hmm. You probably didn’t hear about this since you were locked up.
Cultivation had problems last year. First there was some sort of outbreak that got on the bush’s leaves, it made the fruit wither before it could ripen.
It wiped out a good third of our berry crops.
Then the blight mites and hopper beetles showed up and ate their way through a fifth of the rice fields.
We petitioned for more Starshells to replant them, but it was denied. ”
Cultivation supplied food to the entirety of Mesmoria, and rice was one of the biggest staple crops.
Every year at least one crop was affected by something that diminished its harvest output, but losing a third of all the berries and a fifth of the rice was unheard of.
I hadn’t paid much attention to the rations last year in the Reformatory, but it did seem like we’d had less rice than normal.
And we hadn’t been given any berries, only tree fruits.
“Us Cultivators are working overtime to get it all done. I haven’t had time to visit Darric all week.
Some of my colleagues are petitioning for service reassignment.
” She paused, chewing on her words before saying them.
“I’m sticking with Cultivation for at least another year, even if this year’s going to be tough.
They can’t expect us to keep working this hard long term. ”
What she hadn’t said was clear: if things kept up this way it would lead to another revolt.
Every generation or so, the Ascendancy made an unpopular law or demanded too much from a service.
When that happened, the citizens revolted, demanding change.
It was rarely violent, but usually resulted in the Ascendancy reforming the law to pacify the rioters.
The worst revolt had happened nearly five hundred years ago in response to the Ascendancy’s population control laws. Unlike every other revolt, the Ascendancy had not budged or offered reforms to their austere population limit law. The results had been catastrophic.
A devastatingly bloody civil war erupted. It had nearly become an extinction event, decimating the island’s population down to less than a thousand.
The result had been grudging acceptance of the widely despised population laws, and the creation of new holidays and celebrations like Blessing Day and the Baby Lottery.
Betrothals had become commonplace, both to ensure consistent population growth and to avoid inbreeding.
Over time, the common loathing toward the population laws had shifted to an uneasy compliance. The strict population limits remained.
There was only so much space on the island, after all.
“Anyway,” Nessa’s mirror-missive said, dragging me out of my musings.
“Send me a message back! We want to hear everything. Is it colder there, are you using the scarf? What’s this year’s stock of trainees like?
What now?” Nessa’s face turned to look over her shoulder again.
“Okay, well I have to go, Mama needs help with dinner. But send me something back!”
The mirror faded back to a gleaming glass, Nessa’s grin evaporating into the glossy surface of my own reflected face.
I thought about Nessa, tapping the surface of the mirror twice again to begin recording a return message. One of the runes began to hum and glow with aquamarine light.
“Hey, you. I’m alive. I can’t talk for long, got lunch in ten. Things are good, but the food isn’t anything compared to Mama’s.”
I told her about the Mistrun, my fellow Apostates who had made the cut, the barracks layout, and the other trainees.
“My roommate’s named Sarina. She’s lively, you’d get along.
Everyone here really wants to be a Voyager, it’s almost inspiring.
The training is harsh, but that’s the ship we all sailed in on, so…
The instructors are,” I grappled for a way to adequately capture everything.
My mind flashed to Zevrial of its own accord.
Insufferable. Handsome. Dangerous.
“Competent,” I settled on. “They’re teaching us some survival skills for when we’re on the Arcs, and having us lift a thousand pounds of rocks. It’s a lot like the mining work we did at the Reformatory.”
It wasn’t at all the same. Mining rocks for the barriers in the bowels of Mount Kael was ugly, unsafe work.
Almost no sunlight reached the area of the mines attached to the Reformatory.
The air was thin and stale with rock dust. Breaks only came when you collapsed from injury or exhaustion.
And the next day, you’d do it all again.
Wearing a weighted belt, anklet, and wristlet while doing push-ups under the infinite sky felt almost pleasant by comparison.
Sure, I had to lift substantially more weight than a single rock at a time with each push up, but the breeze was tart with salt, and the sun warmed you while you trained.
Anyone who collapsed was allowed to rest and provided water.
And of course, there was the attractive view of a certain obnoxious instructor.
“I haven’t seen any ways to sneak in or out yet, but I’ll let you know if I find anything.
It’s incredible on the inside though, I bet you’d enjoy exploring it.
I’d love to hear you play your new sour licks sometime.
It’s not cold here, but that might be because it’s still summer.
Do me a favor and keep backing me on the Jessarian thing.
I’m still planning on breaking off that mess, no matter what Papa says.
You know how he gets. I’ll try to remember what you said, too.
” The clamor outside from the lunch rush moving back into the courtyard carried through the door.
“I’ve gotta get going or I’ll miss the food. Love ya, bitch.”
Tapping the mirror twice, I set it down on my nightstand.
Tucking my notes under my arm I headed out, hoping to multitask a round of studying with my meal.
The remainder of the day went by in a blur of studying, training, and more studying. It didn’t occur to me until days later that I’d left the mirror out on my nightstand.